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megseungmin · 13 days ago

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go save the world – choi seungcheol x gn!reader

blurb !!! You hate superheroes. You understand that they’re important for keeping the peace against villains trying to take over your city but from the insurance premiums to constantly being on the lookout for flying trashcans, your sanity, and bank account – you need a break. It doesn’t help when your boss puts you in charge of a new unit for writing articles on superheroes.

info !!! no afab/fem mention, mainly gender neutral, no reader body shape mention, use of y/n, swearing, non-idol au, superhero au, reporter!reader, reporter!seungcheol, superman!seungcheol (obvi), reader has bad eyesight/wears glasses, reader is snarky, get ready to cringe because i don’t know that much about superman’s lore or dc, based off superman 1978, ii donner cut, & superman 2025 ft. svt soonyoung, bts namjoon, & txt taehyun

WARNINGS !!! SFW but MDNI 18+ blog, kinda suggestive but nothing explicit in this, swearing, mentions of almost dying, not proofread just pure free flowing thought

wc 2.2k

author’s note !!! this is FICTION!!!!! everything is made up or inspired by the superman movies. the stuff written out is not meant to be a representation of the people, places, or ideas mentioned. also, prob not accurate to real life counterparts.

“you got a busy day today / go save the world, i'll be around” superman taylor swift

You loved your job.

If you didn’t hear the news your boss just told you – you would still love your job.

“Huh?” You repeat as your right eye begins to twitch.

“I’m promoting you to be supervisor for the new unit focusing on superheroes!”

Oh.

Clutching your cup of iced coffee tighter to your chest, you let a simple “Oh.”

“This will be such a great opportunity for you to showcase your skills being in charge of a team! Maybe in the future –”

You didn’t want to hear your boss out about this opportunity that will make you want to rip your eyeballs from your eye sockets as he continues excitedly gesticulating. “Mr. Kim, respectfully, I decline.”

He pauses mid-word to pout at you, unleashing his saddest puppy eyes. “I told you not to call me that.”

Clenching your teeth as you relax your hands from strangling your cup, “Mr. Namjoon.”

“Nuh-uh, Joon.”

“Mr. Joon, I say with the upmost respect for you as my wonderful boss, I decline. I like my job position just the way it is.”

He blinks a couple of times before straightening his back to reach his full height, “I will add an entire month’s worth of vacation days, your birthday PTO, and increase your salary an extra figure.”

With that you drop your cup to shake his hands vigorously as you spit out word vomit, “How did you know I love superheroes! Can’t get enough of them! I’ll start the unit right away as I have the perfect team in mind.”

“I’ll sign your promotion and send it to Yoongi.”

You skip off to your office as Namjoon lets out a relieved sigh.

After allowing yourself to splurge on a few dream items once your new paperwork was submitted with your new comfy salary going into effect, you called your first victims to your office.

“Mr. Kwon and Mr. Choi, I have called you into my office today to recruit you for a new unit I’m supervising regarding Superheroes.” Your eyes peek over your glasses as your gaze flicks between them – Seungcheol looking nervous and Soonyoung smirking. “I think the two of you would be perfect candidates.”

Looking back down at your desktop to finish typing out your outline for the first article on Nightwing as he just stopped a bank robbery downtown. “So, did the two of you hear anything crime related last night?”

“Uh, yeah.” Soonyoung says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Superman stopped a train from derailing this morning.”

You stop typing and let out a big sigh. “Superman this, Superman that.”

Seungcheol says surprised, “It sounds like you don’t like Superman?”

“Yeah, well I’m not a fan of the guy. He appears out of nowhere 3 months ago – claiming that he was sent to Earth to “help out humankind”. The only helping he’s doing is raising my car insurance! At least the other heroes keep it contained to the other city. Last week, my favorite coffee shop was obliterated from that robot attack. Thanks a lot, Superman.”

The two men stand awkwardly as you begin furiously clacking on your keyboard. “Um, Supervisor L/n.”

“Yes, Mr. Choi.”

“Why are you in charge of this unit if you dislike superheroes.”

“Because, Mr. Choi, Mr. Kim Namjoon is a playing a sick prank on me.” You say loud enough for the devil himself to hear it outside your office and shoot you a dazzling grin through the window.

“Dick.” Mumbling under your breath but force a grin while looking at them. “Anyway, I aim to have our first article published in a week, so please email me by Friday for revisions.”

They both nod and leave you alone in your office to stuff a handful of your favorite candy to cope.

Monday night was calm, except for the bus bench almost hitting your window when you look out of your apartment. A flash of red and blue saved you from spending the rest of the night on hold with your insurance company and flipping to any news channel that isn’t covering the current event.

Tuesday night was almost better, except for the blaring of sirens next to your building that kept you up from 2 AM to 5 AM.

Wednesday night was when you still had hope, except for the water shortage due to Superman using the city’s supply to defeat a fire villain.

Thursday night was when you gave up, especially when your building was evacuated for toxic gas released by Poison Ivy.

Friday morning, you stumble to your desk with a shitty iced coffee in hand and a massive migraine. Your coat is soaked through due to the heavy rainstorm raging outside and a dark cloud follows you to your desk.

Keeping your desktop silent helped keep your anxiety from spiking to ridiculous heights whenever the bell sound alerted of you to another message from Soonyoung about what thoughts he had in the past 10 minutes. Your inbox had a slew of emails that were junk and the articles you asked for. Soonyoung had written a wonderful piece on Bronze Tiger’s current mission of helping community gardens in lower income neighborhoods but not publishably as it was riddled with tiger puns every other sentence. Seungcheol however had centered his article on how misunderstood Superman is and even dared to include a mini-interview with the man himself.

It pissed you off.

A knock on your door turned your attention to Namjoon pointing to his phone as you picked up yours, accepting his call.

“Cheol’s is getting published.”

“Personally, Mr. Kim, I think Mr. Kwon’s piece could be the needed freshness that readers need in the morning.”

“He ended the piece by explaining that Tiger man’s costume in extensive detail.”

“Appealing to fashion lovers.”

“He used “horanghae” multiple times, which isn’t a real word.”

“Fine. I’ll sign off on Mr. Choi’s article.”

“Don’t have to! I already printed it.”

“Excuse me?”

Namjoon has the audacity to grin at you as he disconnects the call and walk away. You slam your fists on your desk as multiple frazzled interns run past your window, carrying stacks of newspapers.

THE MAKINGS OF OUR NEWEST SUPERHERO

by Choi Seungcheol

The city has been introduced to its newest superhero who has been spotted saving cats from trees and putting out fires. The blur of blue and red you may spot from your window – Superman. Photo spready by Jeon Wonwoo continued on page 2.

You bite your tongue as you spot Seungcheol’s article is plastered to the front page of the newspaper. The rows and rows of the Daily Planet covering every corner newspaper stand in the city mocking you on your way to work. Usually, you would drive or take the train but during last night’s events a giant alien-like creature crushed the station entrance nearest to you and blocked off the street.

Setting your sights forward and turning the volume on your noise cancelling headphones louder as you book it to work. The brisk morning air is very much appreciated to calm the rage you felt brewing inside.

As you were about to cross the street, you feel your feet lift off the ground as a strong set of arms are wrapped around your abdomen and a presence pressing into your back.

Immediately, pausing your music as you look around, confused to see people crowding below you some even holding their phones in your direction and at a moving truck on its side in the alleyway.

“What the fuck?”

The presence gently sets you back down on the ground as you turn around to see the same man you were cursing earlier. The red and yellow “S” staring back at you as people talk over each other, trying to get Superman’s attention.

“Apologies, but you were distracted, and a truck was going to hit you.” His deep voice is aggravatingly soothing as dimples surround his blindingly white teeth.

“Uh, thanks.”

“Anytime. Maybe only wear headphones covering one ear.” And with that he flies up and away.

“Oh my god. He’s so handsome!”

“I wish he would save me.”

“Superman has dimples? I’m even more attracted to him.”

The comments by the people around you solidify that you did not make up the interaction.

By the time you show up to work, everyone in the office has already heard of your little interaction. One of the interns in the photography department, Taehyun you think, bounces up to you with his phone in hand. Staring up at you in awe, he asks “Did you really get saved by Superman?”

“Yes.” You grit out. You want to continue by saying “unfortunately”, but the way Taehyun’s eyes are shinning you decide against it and nod as you walk to the kitchen.

Grabbing a can of the only energy drink you can stand, you lean against the sink as you rub your temple. If Taehyun was a taste of what you’ll run into later, you’ll need the extra energy. The silence is broken by a quiet “ow” and creaking of the door.

Opening your eyes, you see the familiar outline of Seungcheol, “Morning, Mr. Choi.”

The tall man bows as he walks around you to the fridge, grabbing the same drink. You watch him quietly as he tries not to bump into you.

“Congratulations, by the way… for getting the front page. Your article was well written.”

He doesn’t respond to you right away, but you see his ears turn bright red as his mouth opens and closes. “T-thank you. That compliment means a lot coming from you.”

You hum in response as your eyes over your glasses skim over his figure – the white button up is rolled up to his elbows, his black slacks are wrinkled, and his shoes are scoffed from wear and tear. His hair is messy, like he’s been constantly brushing it out of his eyes, and the glasses frames are perched at the tip of nose.

Tilting your head to the side, you realize that you haven’t taken an actual look at Seungcheol. He is attractive, just like the rest of the employees on your floor. You have a bad habit of not making eye contact with people or even looking at their face. You tend to look next or above their head. It also doesn’t help that your glasses are old, and your prescription has gotten worse, but you couldn’t afford new ones.

Maybe you’ll put your bonus towards that.

“I’m sure you heard, but I had a little run in with your friend.”

“My friend?”

“The new hero.”

“Superman?”

“Yes.”

“He’s not really my friend. I just got to interview him.”

“Well, can you see if he’s free for another interview. With me.” Seungcheol shocked – hits his head on a shelf – turns towards you, but you walk out, saying over your shoulder. “I need it for my next article.”

masterlist

author's note i saw superman on sunday & i’ve been annoying ever since. this was originally a vernon fic because he’s my bias, but during the movie i kept thinking “oh my god that’s cheol”. this is very much self-indulgent.

probably won't write a part two, just wanted to post this. also, look at me! i can't stick to my word or schedule! hopefully, i'll be able to get out my previously promised wips.

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megseungmin · 17 days ago

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"gifts, a notebook and an admirer."

choi seungcheol x you. you have a secret admirer (seungcheol) who always leaves little gifts on your table/desk since he comes to school earlier than you do and when seungkwan wants to confess, he does it in his usual 'gift giving' way and this time gives reader a notebook and when reader looks through the blank pages there's one page that reveals it all. wc - 722 a/n: shoutout to a special someone who told me not to mention them for the banner! its cute and i love it so much, i love you too.

it started in early spring. you'd dragged yourself into school late one morning, head still foggy from too little sleep and too much stress. there, sitting on your desk like a quiet miracle, was a candy bar and a sticky note that simply read: "for a long day." no name. no explanation. just candy and a note. you thought it was a one-time thing. some classmate with extra sweets and a charitable impulse. but the next day, when you had returned from the toilet, there was a small flower laying upon your math notebook which you had left on your desk, wide open. after that, a tea bag labeled "calming blend." and another note - "hope it helps." little gifts that were never too bold, never to much. a pen in your favourite colour. a folded drawing of your favourite show character. an origami heart. sometimes the offerings were silly, sometimes surprisingly thoughtful. but always anonymous. you'd ask around. casually at first, then half-joking. "okay who's my little gift giver?" but no one confessed. if anything they teased you more about having a 'gift giver'. some guessed names. you laughed along but deep down it started to gnaw at you. because you started to look forward to it. to the gifts. to them. whoever they were. it became a kind of ritual, you could say. walk into the classroom, find the gift, smile to yourself, tuck it away, and wonder. "do they watch me when i see the gift?" "have i talked to them before?" "do i smile at them in the hallway?" weeks passed. spring gave way to early summer, and still, no answers. you thought that this person would just never tell you. maybe this was it. just a quiet affection. a story that ends before it begins. and that hurt in a way you didn't want to admit. you told yourself not to be disappointed. that this was already more than anyone owed you. but still, the hope remained, soft and damn stubborn in your chest. then came today. you walked into the classroom like you always did, bracing for the morning chatter, the usual notes, the soft thumps on chairs being dragged across the floor. and there it was. not a snack, not a flower. but a small, black notebook sitting perfectly centered on your desk. no note this time, no doodle. just a notebook with a red ribbon tied around it. your hands trembled slightly as you reached for it. and for some reason it felt final. somehow. you untied the ribbon, set it aside and opened the cover. the pages were blank. smooth, untouched. dozens of pages. except for the front page. a single sentence stared up at you in careful handwriting, slightly messy, but full of intention. "secret admirer reveal? haha. its me. seungcheol." your breath caught. seungcheol. the name repeated in your head like a heartbeat. choi seungcheol. the very boy who always offered his umbrella, even if it meant walking home in the rain. the boy who sat two rows behind you and never interrupted. the boy who noticed. the boy with kind eyes and quiet smiles and-... oh. it was him. this whole time. it's been him. and suddenly things made sense. the times you caught him glancing your way. the shared silences in group projects where he looked like he had something to say but never said it because you were speaking. the time he lent you his pencil and your fingers brushed and he looked away so fast with a red tint on his cheeks. he hadnt signed it, "from seungcheol." he hadnt even added a heart. just "its me." like he hoped, somewhere deep down, that it was enough. you wrote something on the same page, just below his message. you looked behind you, he was there sitting down casually but fidgeting, eyes flickering your way for only a second before looking back down at his hands. you stood up, held the notebook with one hand, walked right to him and placed it gently against his chest. "check." you smirked. he blinked, confused, but he couldnt say anything as you already heading back to your seat. he opened the cover and saw the front page. and there was your handwriting, right beneath his confession. "i was hoping it was you."

check out my other works? <33

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megseungmin · 17 days ago

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Guys please help me find this fic about yandere erasermic × y/n. So, what happened is they tied her outside while it was snowing(?) then she escapes, but barely makes it. They found her almost dead in the snow then they brought her back, and decided to 'punish' her by f*cking. Plss do tag me! I cant find it anymore I've been gone for too long😭

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megseungmin · 18 days ago

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𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

PAIRING: F. Reader x Seungcheol x Jeonghan x Soonyoung x Seokmin x Vernon x Chan

SUMMARY: When the Divine’s cult conquers your home, they don't expect you to survive, let alone fight back. Captured but not broken, you and the unlikeliest of allies are ready to burn it all down.

TOTAL WC: TBD

AU: Romantic Fantasy, Werewolves, Omegaverse Dynamics, Polyamourous

GENRE: Smut, Heavy Angst, Fluff, Romance

SERIES WARNINGS: This series includes themes of war, capture, fantasy violence, sexual content, explicit language, and the risks that come with organized power structures. Readers should expect depictions of blood, mild torture, imprisonment, and life under the rule of a harsh dictator. While graphic violence is not extreme, there are battles, action scenes, and moments that show the main character’s experience in captivity. Each chapter will have specific warnings. This is not a dark romance and the darker scenes do not have to do with the reader and the multiple love interests featured in this story or the reader’s relationship with any of the love interests. THIS FIC IS POLYAMOROUS WITH ALL CHARACTERS MEANING BOYS KISS BOYS SOMETIMES. IF YOU DON'T LIKE THAT, THIS ISN'T FOR YOU :)

SCHEDULE: This fic updates on full moons and new moons.

A/N: This has been an insane hyperfixation for me the last few weeks. It was originally an idea I kicked around with @daechwitatamic who simply wanted a werewolves/omegaverse PWP and then I said what if I introduce the dangerous of cult activity and made it angsty. I hope you enjoy this as much as I have writing it. It also occurred to me while writing this author's note that this fic is reader x my bias line but you know what I'm not apologizing :)

A/N 2: Each chapter will preface which members are included/are the main focus of the chapter. Each chapter also has alt. banners because I thought it would be fun.

MAIN M. LIST | PLAYLIST | SERIES TAG LIST | ASK

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰

𝔱𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢𝔯

𝔬𝔫𝔢… 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔫𝔢𝔵𝔱 𝔫𝔢𝔴 𝔪𝔬𝔬𝔫

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megseungmin · 19 days ago

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Scars Leave a Beautiful Trace | c.sc (teaser)

synopsis ➳ ❝an arranged marriage with the man the entire land is afraid of. the man with a crimson eye. they call him the grim reaper. cold, ruthless, unforgiving. yet you are drawn to him, curious to see the man hiding behind the cold hard exterior. and the man behind is hauntingly beautiful but your forever with him is not promised.❞

pairing ➳ husband general!seungcheol/ x wife noblewoman!reader

genre ➳ historical romance (joeson era), angst, pining, smut.

wc ➳ 25k (apx, i'm still writing)

a/n: yes ik, a very original title (🤡) but what can I say, I love this ost and it goes really well with the fic!

“Daughter, this is General Choi Seungcheol, your betrothed. Greet him properly,” your father commands softly, his eyes trained on you.

Your breath stutters in your chest.

Whether from the loaded tension in the air, the silence of the room or your future husband’s penetrating eyes on you, you are unsure.

His eyes…

You saw them once, a long, long time ago, and you remember them in explicit detail because they are heterochromatic. His right iris is red, a shade of fiery crimson that is scary but also hypnotizing— a stark contrast to his left iris, which is pure black.

You wish it were only his eyes that were lethal. Unfortunately for you, it is his presence itself. It is the way he silently sits there, poised and alert, holding his sword in his right hand and softly drumming his left index finger on his knee, as if telling you to hurry up. It is the way his face remains unreadable, a porcelain white canvas containing a pair of eyes fiercer than a mountain lion's, a sharp nose that is slightly crooked on the left, and pink lips that are pressed in a thin line. The most daunting of it all, the scar on the right side of his face, just below his eye and on top of his cheekbone. It is no more than a couple of inches long, but the gash looks deep, even after it has healed and imagining the pain behind that curse rakes shivers down your spine.

Finally, you snap out of your reverie.

With a shaky exhale, you bow down and speak as humbly as possible. “Please accept my greetings, my lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

RELEASE DATE: August 1, 2025

(take the release date with a grain of salt, there's still a lot of writing and editing left)

[also no taglist folks, this app starts acting up whenever I do it. sorry!]

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megseungmin · 19 days ago

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Honeymoon Avenue

Jeon Wonwoo x reader | @highvern birth special

word count: 8.7k

contains: newlyweds!reader and wonwoo, minor injuries, lots of fluff, multiple smut scenes (MINORS DNI), they're sick and in love its gross

synopsis: You and Wonwoo have said your I dos in front of the entire world, and now it's time to uphold them when it's just you and him.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY ONE AND ONLY MY GUIDING STAR MY WIFE AND PARTNER IN CRIME CAMOTHY @highvern I love you so much this fic is purely to torture you and only you and no one else. you asked for honeymoon wonu and you are receiving honeymoon wonu. I hope you enjoy it ily ily ily

thank you so much to @starlightkyeom for betaing and listening to me yap about this, I love u to the moon and back, and thank you to @shadowkoo for all the help on the banner, ly raven <333

ps: heads up that is isn't very plot heavy I tried something new this time and attempted to let it flow as it came out. hope it holds up!! if you aren't cam then u must pay taxes in A) going to her blog and wishing her a happy birthday, and B) tell me ur thots about the fic in da reblogs heh!!! :3

masterlist

You let out the deepest exhale of your life.

Haphazardly strewn chairs, and you find the nearest one and plop yourself and your skewed reception dress on the padding. Your numb feet don’t have a chance to thank you immediately, but the tingly feeling means they aren’t entirely a lost cause.

Slouching as far as your shoulders would go, you pan the nearly empty venue, one that now looks like you accidentally slipped a tornado an invitation. Your eyes land on where Wonwoo is saying goodbye to the last few guests who definitely did not pay heed to your request for temperance at the bar. The uncle grips his bicep like a vice, blubbering congratulations you could hear all the way where you sat.

Wonwoo’s suit jacket and waistcoat are gone with the wind, hair tousled and spiking every which way—near inverse of the gelled, waxed and styled they sat earlier in the day; the first time you laid eyes on him standing at the altar with the sun in his eyes. The crisp of his shirt is now wrinkled from the dancing and the hugging and every other excessive movement he had to subject himself to today. The final stragglers are your family, your sister already moving over to push you out of your chair.

“I just sat down!” you whine, not caring for decorum with the absolute day you’ve had.

“Go on with him, you have a flight to catch!” she stresses. “We’ll handle everything here.”

Wonwoo catches the last bit as he returns, hands in his pockets, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Blatantly, you stare. “Handle what?”

“You guys should go ahead first,” she says.

“We have some time till we need to start rushing,” he responds, twisting his arm to look at the watch on his wrist. The lights are back on, so you can see him significantly clearer without the disco lights and low spotlights. His forearm is practically in your face, and if you weren’t so exhausted you would’ve taken a dive at the divot, teeth first.

But you don’t, because what stares you both in the face right now is a month long getaway of blue sky, green waters and lots and lots and lots of completely alone time. Since your sister is already so keen to get rid of you both, Wonwoo decides for you as he excuses himself to grab his strewn clothes.

She turns to you in his absence, and you immediately know there’s a grenade smoking behind her goading grin. “Well…?”

Brows raised, you’re defiant in your decision to remain nonchalant. “Well what?”

“Are you excited?”

“Of course I am, I just got married.”

“I mean the honeymoon.”

“Who isn’t dying to go Seychelles?”

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “You’re no fun.”

You shoot her an equally infuriating smile, “You can’t be mean to me today.”

“I already have,” she responds.

You don’t have a chance to be annoyed because Wonwoo is back, clothes draped over his arm as you are suddenly ushered into saying your last goodbyes. Flats on and heels in hand, ready to peacefully stroll out of the building you got married in.

You hook your arm around his as you cross the threshold out, the wind pleasant in the pitch black night. Walking to the car, the one you bought together, you feel like the threat of your dangerously full heart might finally erupt.

All day has been a rushing incline of adrenaline, from the moment you woke up, sticky eyed with bridesmaids over your head, to getting into your dress, to standing behind the giant oak doors that led you to the altar of your future. To the moment you heard the love of your life say I do for everyone who mattered to hear.

It’s late, and your flats crunch under gravel, pressuring every sore point in your foot. But you don’t care. One of Wonwoo’s arms is draped by his coat, and the other by you, a pressing silence falling over your pair. At peace.

“I’m glad we didn’t have a grand exit,” Wonwoo speaks your thoughts.

“Mhm,” you reply. “I like this better.” You look up at him as he halts his steps for a minute, and he leans down to kiss you for the nth time that night. All smiles.

The finality of an Exit felt like a staggering halt to your special day. You already knew you’d never want it to end, opting to let the night trickle out, ending it with just you left on the floor.

Something told you this would be more memorable anyway.

Everything’s packed and ready when you get home, a service to present you from past you. You turn to Wonwoo, who’s toeing his shoes off, who also was a horrendous sport when it came to packing early.

“Aren’t you glad we did this beforehand?” you taunt, waving your hands at the packed bags near the door. He only smirks, leaning in to grab your face and kiss you again.

“Of course, wife’s always right,” he mumbles against your lips, and the giddy feeling that’s been simmering all day gushes once again.

Wife.

“Welcome to the rest of your life.”

The dim bathroom light seeps into the bedroom, where you scratch your skin with makeup wipes to get the first layer off your tired face. It’s easy to slouch, wanting nothing more than to lay back against the pillows and fall asleep, fully dressed. You’re aware of all the outside germs you’re transferring onto your pristine sheets, but also cannot find the strength to care.

The water shuts off, and you take it as your cue to slug off the bed and take off your dress. Reaching over, your fingers grapple for the hook with no avail, arms already showing the first inklings of a very sore weekend. The zipper isn’t even within your vicinity, fingers aiming for nothing but skin and fabric.

You smell Wonwoo before you can register he’s out of the shower, the humidity carrying the scent of his body wash to where you stood on the other side of the room. It takes no time for you to feel both his hands on your waist, pulling you towards him before you can open your mouth to ask.

Cold fingers brush the skin above the hook of your dress, and it takes an effort to not melt into the carpet entirely. The dress is unhooked, the zipper pulled down as you feel the fabric release you into the bedroom air. He helps you push it over your hips, letting it pool onto the floor.

The sigh you release lingers in the air, prompting him to put his hands on your shoulders, squeezing your shoulders, thumbs digging into the back of your neck to release all the pent up tension. Then your upper arms, where he pulls you even closer, bare back hitting his damp chest.

“Tired?” he mumbles, arms circling around you and squeezing you tight.

Leaning back is the easiest thing you’ve ever done, only humming in response as you close your eyes, head against his shoulder. Droplets hit your skin in a cold cascade, his hair still wet. His hands roam around any expanse of skin he can find without releasing his pressure on your form, squeezing and massaging. The weight is welcomed, nearly falling asleep by the time he’s mouthing at your shoulder, breathing in the sweat of your skin.

“Are you gonna need help in the shower?” he asks. You know he’s not being cheeky, and you consider saying yes seeing as you’re five seconds from falling asleep standing up.

“I think I’ll be fine,” you mumble. “I’ll keep the door open in case I crack my skull on the tile.”

“Can’t have you dying on our wedding night,” he says.

“Enjoy the life insurance payout,” you crack one eye open, staring up at him.

“How many hours have we been married?” he muses.

You want to kiss him, suddenly slammed with a tsunami’s force of affection for the man that holds your leaning body against him like an ever-present pillar. Married.

He lets you go, but not before helping you pick out every last bobby pin in your hair, during which he remains in nothing but the damp towel around his waist. At one point you face him, forehead on his chest as he unravels your hair from the crown.

“Your towel’s inside, I’ll grab your clothes,” he says when he releases you, letting you walk into the bathroom to wash off the day.

Simply raising your arms to shampoo your hair is turning out to be a conquest despite the fumes of the scorching water invading your vision. The door is half open, and you can hear Wonwoo shuffling about in the bedroom, no doubt fixing the last bits before you have to leave for the airport.

Immediately, you sigh, the thought of loading and unloading the uber, going through security, checking your bags and then the god-knows-how-many hours of flight time settling in your bones like an additional phantom ache. By the time you’re done, towel wrapped around your chest and droplets of water still cooling your skin after a half hearted attempt at drying yourself, you’re spent.

Wonwoo is zipping up a bag when you emerge, unfortunately wearing clothes now.

“You wanna sit in the towel while I dry your hair,” he asks, already pulling out the hair dryer from the drawer.

“Are you done packing?” you ask, frowning.

“Just your toothbrush left.” He plugs it into the outlet. “I’ll grab it while you change.”

Forehead leaning on his tummy, he tousles the wet mop of your hair as the dryer fills the room with its white noise. That, paired with the bed where you sit, once again, is turning out to be a seductor of a lifetime.

When he’s done, and brushing out the tangles in your hair, you find the strength to ask him. “Why aren’t you as tired as I am?”

He chuckles, eyes focused on a knot that’s giving him a hard time. “For starters I slept for five extra hours. You know, considering my side of the party didn’t need to cake their faces.”

“You didn’t like my makeup?” you jab in jest.

“I loved it,” he responds, leaning down to kiss you on the forehead. “We’ll talk about it on the plane, considering you don’t fall asleep before we can even take off.”

“Or in the car. Or in the lounge.” You yawn openly. “Or right now.”

When you stand up, you wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to touch him for a little bit before attempting to put on clothes. His lips find the crook of your neck immediately, hands gripping you through your towel.

“I love you,” you mumble against his skin.

“I love you more,” he responds. “I know I already said it a thousand times, but this is still the happiest I’ve ever been.”

You have to bite back a snarky reply, but you feel the pool in your eyes anyway. Inexplicably, you hold on to him tighter. Worried if you opened your mouth you’d begin to sob—again.

He does let go of you, but only when his eyes land on the time. You’re dressed by the time he’s called the Uber and grabbed your toothbrush, shoving it into the front pocket of one of the bags. You’re quite useless the entire time, but Wonwoo doesn’t mind as he loads your limited bags into the trunk.

You manage to keep your eyes open on the ride to the airport, manage to not be a nuisance as you check in, and make it to the lounge with limited hassle.

“We only need to wait like twenty minutes, we were pretty on time,” he mentions, handing you a to-go cup of coffee the approximate size of your face. “We get to board first anyway.”

Months ago, while you were thick in the trenches of wedding planning, you went back and forth for a very long time about flight tickets. Not your destination, but the decision between business and economy was a conversation that stretched over weeks.

Today, with your jelly arms and mushy mind, you thank your heavenly stars through bites of fancy lounge sushi for making the collective decision to splurge. Wonwoo is taking it upon himself to let your friends and family know you’d checked in, while you lean wholly against his arm, dreaming about the flat, comforter clad surface of your plane seat, and the joy you’re going to have for the hours to come.

Inhaling the amount of coffee that you did in the lounge meant the prior sleep in your eyes had decided to evacuate for the time being, getting tucked into your seat soon after take off.

To be clear, you were more than happy with your decision on the seat, but you realise quickly that you and Wonwoo are blocked out by a divider between you, closing you off. You assume you were pouting at the realization, because you hear him ask.

“Don’t like the seat?”

“No, I do,” you say. “But you’re so far away.”

He smiles, close mouthed, the one where it looks like he might be smirking. An arm snakes over the console, elbow towards you as his forearm rests against it. Immediately, like this was nothing but a usual drive in your car, you lean your head against his arm, your own two arms wrapping around his.

There’s nothing in the air except the whirring of the plane's engine, the quiet chatter of the cabin as the crew prepares for turndown service.

A realisation befalls you, that this is the first time you’ve been able to sit down with Wonwoo today, without the constant buzzing in your brain about everything that has gone wrong and what could go wrong. It might be your defeated conscious talking, but it may have even been months.

Shifting your head so you can look up at him, you speak, “We have to stay married. ‘Cause I don’t think I can plan an entire wedding again.”

“So no vow renewals?”

You raise your brows, surprised this was something he’d be interested in. “Maybe when we’re sixty.”

“Oh,” he frowns. “I was thinking more like every five years.”

“God.”

“I’m glad we decided to do this,” he says.

“The seats?” you ask.

He looks at you, and you raise your head from his arm.

“Getting married.”

“That sounds like an afterthought.”

“I was nervy,” he says. “It’s like coming out the other side of a roller coaster. Took guts but you’re glad you did it.”

“Glad our special day was a vomit inducing experience for you.”

“Didn’t you cry five times while getting ready?” he jabs.

Scowling, you turn away. “Who told you that?”

“So you can throttle them in their sleep?”

It was no use, since you were both crying at the altar, but you have a bone to pick with your sister once you’re back home.

“Go to sleep,” you grumble, removing yourself from his arm. He only laughs, grabbing your arm with a force that pulls you back in.

He leans into your ear, familiar press of his lips against the skin. “You looked beautiful today.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Similar to this, with his lips pressed against your ear, hours ago on the dancefloor, he said the same thing. Over and over and over.

“I’m gonna confess something,” he whispers. For a wild moment, your heart is in your throat.

“What?” you ask sharply.

“When I went home after our first date—”

“You noted my drink order?”

He nods against your head, “That. And I dreamt of you.”

“Was I pretty?”

“Prettiest. Big smile like it was the happiest day of your life. In a white dress.”

It’s silent for a moment as neither of you move. The lump in your throat is ever present, breath quickening as you brace for the waterworks.

“Dang,” is all you say in a watery voice, one that earns you a laugh from him. The absurdity is not lost on you. “What other secrets do you possess?”

“Just that,” he responds. “Didn’t wanna tell you before. Thought you’d freak out and run away.”

“Idiot,” you mumble against his hoodie, tears wetting your lashes.

You don’t get to continue, because a flight attendant hovers over your joint seats, asking if you’d like to turn down for the night.

Wonwoo answers for both you and your aching bones. Fatigue would make you gloss over many things about the aftermath of your wedding night for years to come, but you’ll always remember the first night asleep next to your husband over rocky terrain in the sky, with so much changed, yet nothing at all.

Your first night in Seychelles was a blur, mostly because you both ate room service in expensive robes and watched The Pitt before falling asleep again.

Eyes closed, you know it’s sunny with the exceeding warmth in the room and the light against your eyelids. Opening them takes a minute, no desire to move in the morning light. At least you think it’s morning.

Shifting around, you realise you fell asleep in your robe, the tie unravelled, turning it into a loose shrug over your naked form. Through bleary eyes, your eyes meet the linen curtains and how they blow in the wind that pours through the open sliding doors. Blue skies and hanging branches of deep green trees are all you see, and your husband, standing over the railing overlooking your private pool.

Maybe it was the haze of being half asleep, but for a second it feels like a dream. He’s in a white T-shirt, messy hair indicating he didn’t wake too long before you did, basking in the sunlit glow of the morning. His back is to you, but it’s enough.

He hardly notices you get up and walk to the bathroom, the rustling of the trees masking most of your movements. When you’re done washing up, robe tightened around your waist, you emerge onto the makeshift porch of your hotel suite.

Arms immediately make their way around his waist, alerting him of your presence. “Morning,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Morning, baby,” he shifts so he can hold you too, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. “Sleep well.”

“As well as I could.” It was a frivolous question, considering he was well aware you could sleep well on pavement if he was next to you, presence inches away.

“It’s so pretty in the day,” you comment. The private pool was one thing, but the way the trees and plants hovered over the open area, swaying in the breeze left the impression they’d situated the room in the middle of a jungle.

“Mhm,” he responds, having had his fill of the view of the hotel, currently more interested in the bare expanse of your neck. His lips trail over the skin, leaving kisses and gentle nips, now caging you between him and the railing. “Pretty.”

Of course, the obvious connotations of a honeymoon hadn’t escaped you—in the weeks leading up to your wedding, there wasn’t a loved one who would let you. But it feels like a delayed reaction after the hectic 48 hours you’ve had, finally at peace in what feels like the most beautiful place in the world.

You let him grope you over the fabric, let his mouth run over every sliver of skin he can find. Facing him, your hands find the back of his neck to pull him down towards you, mouth to mouth properly.

You melt, sighing into his mouth as he moves impossibly closer, pressing you against the railing as your head moves further back. Mouthing at your jaw, he lets you push him back in through the open door.

He understands when you’re being pushed right back into your unmade bed. Pulling at the mountain of comforters, he lets them drop to the floor. “God it’s been torture,” he groans, hands moving up your thighs, through the irregular folds of your robe, cool palms against your hot skin.

“You wanted to leave right after the reception,” you tease. The robe remains tied, and you make no move to undo it yourself.

“Didn’t realise I’d have to hold back for this long,” he says, hands reaching the knot. His mouth is back on yours as he undoes it, pulling agonizingly slow.

Tucking his hands into the undone robe, he runs them over your naked body underneath, pulling the fabric away from your body. Migrating down your neck, his hot breath mixes with the wind coming through the outside, casting shivers down your spine.

Mouth over your breast, his teeth graze over your skin as he sucks. His free hand gropes your other breast, fingers pinching and flicking over the erect nipple. Head thrown back, you can’t stop the way your hips gyrate on nothing, moving to feel friction of any sort.

He only lets go when your hands grapple at his shirt, noises of frustration for every passing moment you couldn’t feel his skin on yours. Shirt thrown somewhere behind him, his shorts follow, before ripping the robe off you entirely, leaving you completely bare.

Moving higher up against the bed, Wonwoo situates himself like he’s about to live there, hands pushing your thighs apart as wide as they could go. In the morning light, he stares his fill of the glistening swells of your core. Fingers grazing over the back of your thighs, he massages the skin closer and closer to where you need him most.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbles, moving back up to kiss you one more time, deep and long.

Distracted, his thumb pressing a stripe down your clit catches you by surprise, gasping into his mouth at the feeling. His thumb reaches your hole, catching the wetness at the entrance, dipping shallowly. Travelling back up, he presses into the centre of your clit beginning with tight circles around the area.

Whining into his mouth, your hands travel to his shoulder, down his arms to grip the muscle. Your other hand grips the sheet as he presses harder into your clit, localising his torture to one tiny area, occasionally rubbing all over.

“Wonwoo,” you moan into his mouth, hardly kissing anymore as you pant into his mouth.

Two fingers push into your hole, the pads pushing up against your walls as his knuckles graze over them. He begins to pump in and out, scissoring his fingers to open you wider. The feeling has you throwing your head back, breathless.

When he removes his fingers you nearly scream, but his hand is at the waistband of his boxers, just as desperate as you feel. The tent is obvious even as he pulls the fabric down, watching his painfully erect member slap against his stomach. Your hands wrap around his own that lay at the base, caressing past to pump him as he positions himself between you.

It’s hypnotising, the redness of his tip, the way it leaks onto your fingers after just a few strokes. Wonwoo’s face is pained, and you realise he may have been serious about feeling tortured.

Not that you were any less desperate, but the agony of needing to remain celibate for the weeks leading up to your wedding weren’t planned—you could hardly find time to eat and sleep. It flew over you, that it might've been a little tougher on him than it was on you, but when you pull him in closer, you make sure that changes.

Knees bent, he pushes your thighs apart as he settles in. He sinks in slowly, “Oh this is gonna be quick.”

You don’t mind, because you’ve remained untouched long enough to not last very long either. “Right there with you,” you groan out, engulfed by the stretch.

He’s slack jawed, hair falling over his eyes as he struggles to keep his eyes open. His fingers dig into the plump your thighs, gripping them like they were the only things keeping him tied down to earth.

It’s bliss, even as he remains stationary for a moment, buried into you till the hilt. Slowly, he pulls out, rocking back in. He picks up the pace, folding your legs over as he watches the way he disappears into your wet pussy, milky white beginning to rim at the base of his cock, a mix of your slick wetness and his precum. He nearly cums at the sight.

Your fingers play with your stiff nipples, head thrown back as you moan without a care of your volume or coherence, Wonwoo’s name on your lips like a mantra. His fingers find your clit, rubbing it in circles as you whine loudly at the feeling.

“You feel so good,” he moans, hips snapping up to slap against the back of your thighs. “So good, you’re so good.”

Eyes blown open as he slams a hard one into you, his groaning and moaning ensuing another warm gush out of you.

Wonwoo pauses for a moment, ducking closer to lay his forehead on yours, his spread legs keeping yours apart, hands coming up to cup the top of your head to protect you from the hard headboard.

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear with effort. “I love you so much.”

“Fuck, I love you too,” half sobbing.

“You’re amazing,” he blabs, words hardly coherent. “All mine. Mine forever. All of you.”

His words, paired with the hand that grazes over your tits, down to your swollen clit to rub it harsher than before, is enough to send you careening over the edge.

“Won—oh my god, Wonwoo I’m cumming,” you moan so loud you’re sure it’s carrying over. But you don’t care, because you wonder how you went so long without clenching around his dick like this, gushing over him as he pounded into you like it was his last day on earth.

He holds you steady as he rides you through it, the contracting of your walls pushing him into his own orgasm, shuddering in your hold as his thrusts become increasingly sloppy yet running with force.

It’s euphoric, hot spurts of his cum painting your walls, leaving his traces where no one else could ever touch you. The thought sends him into overdrive, thrusting into you long past his release dripping out of you, pooling onto the pristine sheets, glazed over your gorgeous skin.

Resting his head against your collarbone, he breathes in the salt of your sweat, mixed with the scent he calls home.

It feels like an eternity, both of you silent as the wind blows into the room over your sweaty forms, laying there in each other’s arms. Wonwoo continues to keep his mouth on you, your shoulders, tummy, waist, worshipping every last inch of your being as you catch your breath intertwined in his heat. He’s at your knees where your legs fold, hand wrapped around your ankle as he caresses it with his thumb, leaving kisses above your knee.

For a moment, he rests his head against your thigh, and the world becomes clearer. His silhouette against the light, the nature beyond your crystal windows. The weight of him now, the traces of his touch that persist, to lay here bare for your lover for life—a glimpse into the rest of time.

The moment is ruined when you feel your stomach growl, and Wonwoo is close enough to hear the rumble. He shifts so he can look at you, “Shower time? I think I saw a restaurant downstairs.”

The shower went from quick to an extra thirty minutes, considering you’d hardly washed the shampoo off before he pushes you against the tiled wall to kiss you breathless, water going cold over you as he works you with his fingers again, the thudding of water hitting the shower floor paired with the squelching of his fingers dipping in and out of your already spent hole, and the pants and moans that fill your ears.

He needs to help you into your clothes after that, which he chuckles through before pulling you to the hotel restaurant. Housing down everything in sight, Wonwoo remembers to keep your glass full in an attempt to keep you from choking on croissants of all things.

“Do you wanna hit the beach after this?” you ask.

“I was thinking about a nap before that,” he says, belting out a burp that earns him a kick under the table. It shakes, earning you looks from the rest of the vacationers. He only laughs, “But I could nap on the beach.”

Wonwoo does not, in fact, nap on the beach and instead follows your example as you pack a book in your beach bag, realising very quickly he brought none of his own, choosing to snipe one of the many you brought for yourself.

It’s you needing to turn your brain on this time, because the random book he’s grabbed has him so enraptured at the synopsis you have to pull him away from slamming directly into people and poles alike. There’s posters and notices as you walk through the connection that leads to the beach; cocktail classes, trivia nights, and tutorials on Seychellois cuisine.

“Isn’t this that movie you watched on the plane?” he asks, reading the Crazy Rich Asians on the front cover.

“Mhm, didn’t mean to pack that, I’m reading the sequel right now,” you hum as you look for the path that leads to the beach, hand in his.

It’s a gamble as the view of the white sands and water come into view, visibly smiling as you see the near empty sands. It was the off season, which you expected to mean less of a crowd.

Finding a double beach chair is easy, dumping your things as you make yourself comfortable. “Water’s nice.” Wonwoo comments, and you wonder if you did wrong with keeping your bathing suit away for today.

Squeezing a generous amount of sunscreen onto your hands, you agree with him as you dot his face with sunblock. He lets you rub it in as he looks over the water, perfectly aware that he’d never willingly put sunscreen on his face if it were up to him. He’s done, and he settles in while you protect yourself.

Leaning against Wonwoo’s arm, you’ve both grabbed your books under the giant parasol. The sun is out and warm just right, deep sounds of crashing waves, and the smell of salt—-you feel giddy.

The beachside bar is seconds away from bringing you your cocktails when his hand finds your thigh, tracing his fingers over the skin, while his other holds open the book he’s reading, twisting the cover back like a heathen.

It’s perfect.

“These are good,” Wonwoo pauses to comment, brows furrowing at the flavour of your espresso martini and his cosmopolitan.

“I think I saw something about a cocktail class at the hotel. We could try it later.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, sipping his drink again.

You don’t know how long it’s been, but both your glasses are now empty and Wonwoo seems to be growing distracted after a few hours. It’s still late afternoon upon you as he announces he’s going to dip his feet in the water.

You think about it, and walk to the shallow end behind him, leaving your flip flops near the chairs. The sand is plush beneath your feet, cool between your toes despite the warm afternoon. Walking closer, the water is almost blinding with the way the sun dances on its crystal surface, waves breaking and sending pleasant sprays as you walk closer.

You gasp audibly as the water touches you, turning to look at Wonwoo wide eyed and giddy. Colder than you’d expected, washing over your ankles and shins as you walk further into the water, pulling up the hems of your skirt to keep it from getting wet.

Wonwoo leans down to touch the water, fingers dipping into the clear, coming up to splash you with a handful. It earns him a yelp from you as he laughs, but you soon recover and send another one right back. You don’t panic till you see both of his hands cup enough water to practically drown you.

“Wonwoo, I didn’t bring extra clothes!” you yell, already running away.

The irony doesn’t escape you, considering sprinting through the water has wet your clothes more than his splashes. But you're laughing harder than your breath can catch, and even more so when his wet hands grab you by the torso and pull you back in a lurch, suspended in the air for a moment.

“Wonwoo!”

It’s funny for a few minutes, still encased in a fit of giggles as you kick at the water. Until it isn’t.

Wonwoo separates from you for a moment, venturing a little deeper into the water, swearing he saw a ring of colourful fish swim past the shallow end. You’re in the middle of convincing yourself to follow him when you hear him suddenly splash at the water with shocking force.

Stunned, you hardly register what’s just happened, thinking you’ve just heard him yell. He’s out of the water before you, hunched over and grabbing at his calf. By the time you reach him, you can see it.

An ugly red slash across his calf, long and thin. It looks like a chemical burn.

“What—”

“Shit,” he curses. An anomaly, considering you’ve only heard Wonwoo curse about five times in the years you’ve known him.

“What is that?” you ask, immediately on your knees to get a closer look. It’s growing redder by the second, the swelling clear.

Wonwoo stretches over to try to see, “That might’ve been a jellyfish.”

“You weren’t even in that deep!”

“Deep enough I guess,” he winces.

Bringing him to the shallow end, you try to pour more seawater on his reddened skin, hoping your memory is serving you right and you aren’t just making it worse.

A few minutes later, a life guard is applying a topical cream on the area and giving you instructions to let the wound soak in warm water, assuring him he can get back in the pool in a couple days.

Once the shock wears off, it’s almost a little funny. “That’s a story we’re gonna be telling forever,” you mumble as he gets up from the table in the tiny lifeguard tent.

The man turns to you, “It happens sometimes, people usually just sleep on it and have a great rest of their vacation. Don’t worry about it too much.”

You thank him as you mutually decide to call it a day, moving back towards the hotel. Wonwoo seems alright, walking fine as he holds your hand talking about dinner plans. You suggest room service by the pool so he can keep off his leg, but insists he wants to try the traditional spot just outside the hotel.

Heeding, you let him pull you back into the hotel room to clean up and rest. Except this time he’s serious about the nap.

Wonwoo doesn’t fight you when you suggest staying off the beach today, choosing to occupy yourselves with the cocktail class instead.

It’s in the hotel so you don’t have to leave the premises, the venue moderately full when you enter the room. The instructor introduces himself as Marcus, taking the time to make small talk with you both as you wait for everyone else to file in. His face lights up when Wonwoo tells him this was your honeymoon, very outwardly enthusiastic about having a couple in the class.

So much so, that when the class eventually does begin, you hear a loud call for congratulations from the room for the only newlyweds (you). Mortified a little, you both fluster in your thank yous, attempting to move the attention back to the front where Marcus remains jovial as ever.

“I think that’s too much ice,” you comment, attempting to compare the pile in your glass to Marcus’ up front.

“No, it’s one scoop. It’s what he said,” Wonwoo says, but he’s beginning to look a little lost.

“Doesn’t that look like a lot?” you ask, not convinced. But there isn’t much you can do about it, because you’re suddenly being asked to find one of the syrups on the counter, still rummaging while Marcus is already two steps ahead of you.

It’s hard not to giggle, the energy from your station overwrought. But as you finally make your first drink after 20 whole minutes, you stand with straight shoulders.

It’s another two hours of this, spilling precious spirits on the counter, floor and yourself, hands stained with syrups and fingers numb from picking up the giant spill of ice courtesy of your husband. You have to duck under the table for a moment, knowing your chortles would disrupt the class even more than you’ve done unintentionally already.

Making cocktails meant drinking cocktails as you made even more cocktails. Marcus only seems to encourage the class to get day drunk, but that only resulted in added chaos.

But even when you’re back in your hotel room, tipsy and giggly, you’re glad you did it.

Wonwoo is spread eagle on the bed, still laughing about tripping over air in the hotel lobby. You join him, tucking yourself into his arm. Head lolling over to look at you, he dips his head down to kiss you, lips over your own in a close mouth peck. He doesn’t stop, lingering with every press to your mouth, still slightly smiling against your lips.

“It’s been a day and this is already the best trip of my life,” he mutters against your lips. You’re very aware of it this time, a habit he’s had forever.

You flashback for a moment, and suddenly you’re both a lot younger, alot less wise with constantly flushed cheeks in each other’s presence. It’s at the door of your old apartment, the same one where he would take you in more ways than one in the following months and years.

But for now, it was your third date, and you were shifting your weight between your feet, trying not to feel disappointed as he bid you a goodnight with nothing but a smile and a wave. Mustering a smile of your own, you unlock the door and begin to walk in.

Except instead of descending steps, there’s a pause. And Wonwoo was back before you could even cross the threshold. He didn’t ask when he cupped your face and planted one on you, mouth to mouth for the very first time, one hand over your door handle and the other on his wrist.

“Sorry that took so long,” he mumbled against your mouth, the first time of many, sheepish smile on his face.

But your heart felt like it was about to burst, so you went in for another one, opening your mouth to kiss him properly. And then the door had shut behind you both, and you’d dragged him inside.

Tipsy haze and a little love drunk in your hotel room, on your honeymoon, you laugh against his mouth. “What,” he asks, laughing with you over nothing.

“I’m glad you didn’t chicken out that night. After the drive in.”

Wonwoo doesn’t need any more information, because the events of the day were ingrained into his mind like a brand. Not your first date, but your third, where he almost didn’t kiss you, where he almost never took the steps back up the stairs, where you almost slammed the door in his face.

“I don’t think I would’ve wanted a fourth if you didn’t do it,” you say, eyes locked in on him.

The thought scares him, that tiny mistake that never happened, how it would have altered the trajectory of his life. It’s terrifying, dread settling into his stomach. To this day he’s unsure why he’d hesitated as much as he did, especially considering he dreamt of your wedding the first night after he’d laid eyes on you.

“You looked sad,” he says. “Disappointed. Just, not happy. I thought that meant you didn’t enjoy yourself, but…I was on the staircase when I realised I felt sad too.”

He leans into you, lips planting kisses on the apples of your cheeks, to your fluttering eyelids, “Didn’t think much after that. Glad I didn’t, because I probably would have chickened out in the end.”

“We’re married,” you whisper like it’s a secret. “Can you believe that?”

“I can’t. Sometimes I still wake up and think I dreamt you up.”

“Are you calling me unreal?”

“Because you are,” he says. “I’m not sure how you exist.”

That sticky feeling engulfs you again, and you know it’s because you’re a little drunk, but you’ve been teary enough to last you a lifetime just these past few days. Before you turn into a blubbering mess, you push yourself up.

“Well,” you clear your throat. “I’m gonna go ahead and be unreal and not exist in the pool we are yet to use.”

He stares as you get up, walking to your open suitcase to rummage around for your stack of bathing suits. He remains on the bed, head propped up with his arm as he watches, content.

You don’t bother with going to the bathroom, stripping off your shirt and shorts in the room. You fish out a green piece, only to hear a refute.

“Where’s the yellow?” he asks, and you fish around to come out with the butter yellow two piece you didn’t realise he even knew you had.

“Actually,” he slips off the bed, walking over to open the sliding doors that lead to the outside, glancing around. “Do you really need it?”

You only give him a look, proceeding to go to the bathroom to change out of your underwear anyway. He makes a noise of disapproval, but you respond with the loud sound of the door locking shut.

When you emerge Wonwoo has soothed himself by taking a dip into the pool himself. You have to laugh, watching him paddle through the water with his swim goggles on.

“Does it hurt? The sting?” you call out as you sit by the edge of the pool, dipping your feet in the water to start yourself off.

He breaks the surface, hair flat over his head like a bowl. He spits out a mouthful of water before calling out, “No! I put the topical on this morning, I think it’s working.”

If that were you, you’d probably be out of commission for the rest of the holiday, but as he dives back in to check how long he can hold his breath for, you want to applaud him. You jump in after a few minutes, finally getting yourself wet.

Wonwoo comes over to you, letting you wrap your legs around him as you float as one. You do, however, rip the goggles right off his face. He doesn’t refute, letting them sink to the bottom of the pool.

“Don’t you think I’m so strong?” he asks.

“I’d say the water’s doing most of the work,” you note.

“I meant my fatal injury.”

“Hardly fatal if you’re making jokes about it,” you snort. “Do you feel like a man?”

“Yeah.” He’s smiling a dumb smile, and you know he can hardly see a thing without his glasses. “Are you impressed?”

“So impressed,” you sigh, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose.

You let him go for a little bit, wanting to float by yourself for a while. As the sky breaks through branches of low hanging trees and giant green flats of leaves, you realise your not-soberness is probably contributing to how psychedelic the view looks.

But you aren’t complaining, content with the weightless feeling.

Wonwoo can’t help himself from meddling for too long, because suddenly you're being lifted off the surface just to be dunked under the water, flailing for a moment before breaking the surface.

“Wonwoo!” you screech, but he’s already on the opposite end of the pool, laughing maniacally. You’re rethinking your stance on drunk Wonwoo, because you aren’t liking him too much.

He’s unfortunately a faster swimmer, but you have him cornered in the pool. He makes to go below, escaping your wrath of you and your dripping wet hair, but instead you hear him yell.

Through the water, you watch him grab his calf, face contorted like he banged the sting wound on the wall of the pool. Immediately, you move forward to check on him.

“Does it hurt?” you ask sharply, mind already racing to where the topical was inside the room.

But you should’ve known, because as soon as you’re close enough for him to grab, you’re being snatched off guard and caged between him and the pool wall.

You want to stay mad at him, but it’s difficult when you note how his shoulders are blocking the entire sun from view, casting you in a shadow shaped like your husband.

“What was that for?”

He only shrugs, hands roaming the expanse of your skin in the water. “I missed you.”

Rolling your eyes, you attempt to break free. He blocks you, whining as he buries his face into your neck. “I said I missed you.”

Another thing about drunk Wonwoo—his sex drive shoots for the clouds.

Even now as he’s mouthing the side of your neck, you can feel him through his swim trunks, pressing you against the pool wall, water spilling over the edge. His input on your choice of swimwear should’ve been your sign, but as he fiddles with the straps of your bottoms, you decide to resign into him.

Water is Wonwoo’s biggest enemy as he finds out how difficult it is to create friction like this, the tent in his bottoms pressing against your stomach. You decide you’re going to be nice, palming him through his trunks. Your other hand is around his middle, roaming to his front as you let them wander over his skin.

He groans contently into your neck, coming up to take your mouth. His tongue pushes in, and you let him lick and suck on your tongue, pulling away only to go right back in. It seems your hands aren’t enough, because he’s suddenly gripping you by the sides and pulling you out of the water, finding yourself sitting by the poolside.

There’s water everywhere as you get a headstart, but he’s enthusiastic even while tipsy, lifting you off the ground at the steps. To your surprise, he doesn’t head for the bedroom, and instead places you on one of the beach chairs on the porch.

“Wonwoo,” you begin, slightly scandalised.

“It’s just us,” he says, nipping at the shell of your ear.

It was sheltered enough, canopied but exposed enough to have you giggling through it. Wonwoo is an efficient man, not a second wasted as he rids you of your bottoms, his own swimming trunks coming off, landing somewhere on the floor with a wet thwack.

He’s sinking into you within seconds, hovering over you as he mouths your cleavage spilling out of your bikini top, licking and dragging his tongue over your skin. You move to take it off, but he stops you.

“No,” he says sharply, pinning your hands in front of you. “Stays on.”

So maybe you underestimated how much he liked it, but you can’t bother to think about it when he picks up his pace, slamming into you so hard the chair rattles and shakes beneath you. Your wrists remained tied with his hand, reaching out as far as you can to touch his stomach, needing to feel him somehow.

The noises you're making are only fueling him, hand coming up to squeeze your breast through the wet fabric, slipping his fingers underneath to play with your nipple, erect from the cold. His knees are in place steadfast on either side of the beach chair, and you have to ask.

“Isn’t that–humph–burning?” you ask through pants.

“Don’t,” he thrusts up hard, “care.”

Taking a moment, you look up at him, and he’s enamoured with the sight of your wet body in front of him, but all you can see is how he manages to encase you with his body alone, the flop his hair over his beautiful eyes, How pretty he looks in the partial shade. How in love he looks with you.

His thrusts are getting sloppier, and you’re moaning so loud it’s beginning to hurt your throat. “Wonwoo, I think—”

“Me too, me too, me too,” he babbles as he feels the familiar clamp of your walls around him, the mesmerizing arch of your back, the way you rip your hands from his hold, only to seize his arms to ground yourself as you ride out your high. He doesn’t fail to abuse your clit, fingers pressing and rubbing just hard enough to send you to a place so far away from here.

“Oh…Wonwoo, fuck, that’s so–so good.” It sounds like a sob, and maybe you are crying a little bit.

He follows you on your descent, hips harried and face contorted like he’s forgotten how to hold himself back. He cums inside you, and you can’t help moaning at the feeling.

He’s hardly brought himself down to Earth when you’re being yanked towards the side of the beach chair, legs over the edge. There’s a loud groan from the chair as it's yanked to the side so Wonwoo can sit on the floor in front of you.

Legs thrown over his shoulder, he watches as the white of his cum leaks out of your raw hole, the sight nearly giving him another erection before he can even dry off. His mouth meets your cunt, lapping at the mix of his cum and your release off your thighs, your hole, spilled over your clit.

You’re overstimulated, but you only prop yourself on your forearms to watch him suck on your clit like he was starved, tongue flat on the muscle as he rubs against your folds. His finger pushes through your entrance, the sound downright sinful as he pumps his cum in and out of your hole. The second orgasm hits you like a truck, shaking like you’d lost yourself on the chair as you finish hard. Seeing stars in daylight, painting the blue sky.

When Wonwoo emerges, eyes dazed and a slight smirk on his face, he’s panting, leaning against your thighs. He places one last open mouthed kiss against your thigh before dealing with your jellied form, slumping against the chair as you attempt to relearn how to breathe.

“You–” you pant. “We need to get drunk more often.”

He only grins at your suggestion to turn into alcoholics for the sake of mind blowing sex.

“I love you,” he says as he scoops you up into his arms, and you want to ask what ounce of superhuman strength he even had left to pull you into a sitting position, seeing as your own muscles are of no help whatsoever.

Your legs are swung across his thighs as you sit on his lap till you can recover. His mouth is covered in your bodily fluids, but you’re reminded what love feels like when you let him kiss you all over regardless.

“I love you too,” you say. “And I’ll keep loving you if you keep eating me out like that.”

“What happened to unconditional love?” he laughs.

You push back the wet mop of his hair, letting his face come into full view.

“Still unconditional,” you respond. “Always unconditional.”

He leans in to kiss you, and you immediately taste the salt on his tongue, but all you want is to move deeper.

“Unconditional,” he mumbles into your mouth, and you're immediately smiling.

He pulls away for a moment, staring at you for a moment. “I think you’ve recovered.”

“Hm?” you question.

You know the answer when you’re suddenly being yanked by the hand back inside. “Wonwoo,” you scream as he gives you no room to prepare, pulling you indoors while the sliding door slams shut behind you.

Yeah. You like how forever is turning out.

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megseungmin · 21 days ago

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A Sock, a Spoon, and Three Feathers

FEATURING Keigo 'Hawks' Takami x Reader

SUMMARY apparently his idea of “providing for you” is pre-cooked poultry and stealing all the spoons in your apartment.

CONTENT WARNINGS hawks is a bird I fear, fluff, slight angst at the end, but it ends in comfort, a dearly treasured spoon and a store bought rotisserie chicken, new relationship, nesting behavior, heat instincts, mild confusion, gift-giving, affectionate weirdness

AUTHORS NOTE god, someone get me a feral bird man. I fear I am desperate.

You’re not really sure when your apartment stopped looking like your apartment.

Maybe it was the third day in a row you found one of Keigo’s feathers tucked under your pillow. Or the moment you opened your silverware drawer and found it missing every spoon—except for one, singular, bent one—because, apparently, that was the “shiny one” he liked best.

You blink at the spoon now, lying sideways on your desk like it belongs there. You didn’t put it there.

There’s also a sock. Not yours.

“…Keigo?”

Your voice echoes down the hallway. You don’t get an answer right away, but you do hear a rustle from your bedroom, then the faint sound of a box being moved. When you poke your head in, you find him kneeling on the floor, surrounded by what might be your throw blankets, a hoodie you haven’t seen since March, and at least two of your favorite plushies.

And right in the middle of that chaotic pile: Hawks. Smiling. Nestled like a smug bird in a cloud of fleece.

“You’re home early,” he chirps, clearly pleased with himself. “Don’t worry—I cleaned off the table so we can still eat dinner like civilized people.”

You blink.

Then blink again.

“…What are you doing?”

Keigo looks around like the answer should be obvious. “Building a nest.”

There’s no irony in his voice. No teasing smirk. Just that bright-eyed, sunlit warmth that always makes your brain short-circuit a little.

You open your mouth. Then close it. “A… nest.”

“Yep.” He plucks something from beside him—a keychain you thought you lost—and holds it up. “Look! I even added your stuff, so it smells like you. That way I can feel safe.”

You’re silent for a long beat, staring at him.

Keigo tilts his head. “You okay, dove?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah, just… trying to figure out if this is, like, a bird thing or a Keigo thing.”

He laughs, but it’s a little too sharp, a little too strained. You watch his wings fluff up behind him, fidgeting with little shivers of motion.

That’s when it hits you—he’s been acting weird for days now. Clingy, but not in a bad way. Just… hovering. Twitchy. Bringing you little trinkets—some feathers, a shiny ring pop, a cool rock. He even gave you a piece of tinfoil once that was folded into a perfect triangle.

“Is this like… instinct?” you ask gently, stepping closer. “You’ve been doing this since Saturday.”

He hesitates. Then shifts, like he’s bracing for judgment.

“…I think I might be going into heat,” he mutters, voice muffled by the hoodie he pulls over his face. “It’s early this season. Thought I had another week.”

“Oh,” you say.

You’re not sure what the correct response is to my bird boyfriend is nesting in my bedroom because his instincts are telling him I’d be a good mate, but you settle for sitting down next to him in the pile of blankets. One of his feathers sticks to your shirt. You don’t brush it off.

“So, uh,” you say, “does the spoon have special meaning, or was that just your favorite?”

“Shiniest one you had,” Keigo says immediately.

You nod thoughtfully. “Fair.”

He peers at you from the corner of his eye. “You’re not freaked out?”

“I’m confused,” you say honestly. “But not, like, bad confused. Just… bird confused.”

He makes a helpless sound, flopping back dramatically into the pile. “God, you’re perfect.”

You reach over and pluck the feather off your sleeve. It’s a brilliant red and soft at the edges. You hold it up.

“This one’s mine now,” you say, tucking it into your hair like a headband.

Keigo freezes. His eyes go wide.

“…You’re killing me,” he whispers.

You grin. “Better make room in your nest then.”

He beams.

You wake up to the sound of wings flapping.

Not like—outside, bird-in-a-tree flapping. No. You’re talking full-blown helicopter-grade flapping right in your living room, paired with the unmistakable sound of your front door clicking shut.

You groggily sit up, blinking against the sunlight. Your nest—sorry, bed—still smells like Keigo. Not surprising, considering he’d spent the night wrapped around you like a living space heater. The blanket pile he started building last night has only grown, and you’re 90% sure he rearranged your throw pillows in the shape of a heart before you fell asleep.

There’s another rustle.

Then a thud.

Then—

“Babe!” Keigo’s voice, muffled. “Do you like rotisserie chicken?!”

You squint and shuffle out into the hallway. “…What?”

Keigo rounds the corner with three grocery bags, feathers ruffled and windswept like he flew full-speed across the city and dive-bombed the store. His hair is a mess, shirt slightly askew, one glove missing, and his expression so absurdly proud that your heart does a traitorous little flip.

“I brought food,” he says, holding out a warm, fragrant box with both hands like an offering to a queen. “Protein. Omega-3s. Bird-safe. Mate-safe.”

“Mate-safe?” you echo, because you cannot let that one slide.

Keigo hesitates. “…I said that out loud, huh.”

He does this thing where he laughs and coughs at the same time, like maybe he can distract you from the fact that his eyes are laser-focused on your face for any trace of disapproval.

You take the chicken.

You also take a moment to process that this man—this pro hero—is trying to prove his suitability as a mate with grocery store poultry.

“…You’re doing the bird thing again,” you murmur, trying not to smile.

“I know,” he says, completely unashamed now. “My heat’s in full swing. I’m lucky I can still think straight.”

You raise a brow. “Can you?”

Keigo shrugs. “Define straight.”

You throw a piece of bread at him. He dodges it effortlessly, like the bastard bird he is.

Usually, Keigo’s presence is… everywhere. Not in an overbearing way, just—felt. Like a breeze under your skin. Like laughter waiting in your throat.

But today?

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

The kind of quiet that makes your spine prick.

You pause mid-bite of your sandwich and glance down the hallway. The nest—the mess of blankets, stolen socks, and whatever he’s dragged in this week—is undisturbed. There’s no feather trail on the floor. No spoon migration. No commentary from the windowsill about pigeons “loitering” on the fire escape.

Just silence.

“…Keigo?” you call softly.

No answer.

You set your food down and move toward the bedroom, heart ticking up just a notch. The air feels heavy—like a storm waiting to break.

You find him in the corner, half-curled into the nest. His wings are drawn tight against his back, shivering faintly. His head’s tucked into the crook of his elbow like he’s trying to hide from something.

Your chest aches instantly.

“Hey,” you whisper, crouching beside him. “There you are.”

He doesn’t look up. His voice is quiet. Muffled.

“I’m sorry.”

You blink. “For what?”

He exhales shakily. “For being weird. For… hoarding your socks. For the chicken. For making your house smell like me. I just—my instincts are screaming and I can’t shut them up today and everything’s too loud—”

“Keigo.”

You reach out and gently touch his wing.

He stiffens for just a second—but then melts.

Collapses, really. Feathers slumping, breath hitching. He leans into your touch like it’s the first thing that’s made sense all day.

“I just wanted to be good,” he whispers. “Like—like a good mate. Someone who deserves to have you around. But now it just feels like I’m being too much. I’m not thinking clearly and it’s all heat and feathers and I—”

You shift closer, hands running slowly through the soft curve of his wings. “Hey. Breathe.”

He does. Because he listens to you. Always has.

“I like your feathers,” you murmur. “And your ridiculous spoon. And the stupid sparkly rock you left on my pillow.”

Keigo groans quietly. “That was a gift. From the heart.”

“I know. That’s why I kept it.”

He lifts his head just enough to glance at you, eyes glassy and golden, pupils blown wide with exhaustion and heat and instinct. You brush a bit of hair from his face.

“You don’t need to impress me, Keigo,” you say gently. “You already have me. Nest and all.”

He blinks.

Then suddenly, he’s curling into you. All warmth and feathers and barely-restrained shivers. He tucks his face into your shoulder and lets out a noise halfway between a sigh and a sob.

“I love you,” he mumbles, voice cracking, “like—a lot.”

You smile and kiss the top of his head. “I know.”

You settle there for a while—him buried in your side, wings twitching with aftershocks, your hand stroking gently through his hair. You hum something soft and tuneless, the way you do when he’s too deep in his own head.

Eventually, his breathing slows. His wings loosen. He starts mumbling nonsense again.

“…gonna build you a bigger nest,” he mumbles into your shirt.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, amused.

“Mmhm. For our future chicks.”

You pause.

“Keigo, we’re not even a month into dating.”

“I’m planning ahead,” he huffs, voice thick with sleep.

You laugh, long and soft. “You’re out of your mind.”

“I’m in heat,” he mumbles, pressing closer. “Let me bird in peace.”

You let him. Because the truth is, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than right here—with your weird, soft, instinct-driven bird of a boyfriend curled up like the world only makes sense when you’re touching.

And honestly?

Maybe it does.

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megseungmin · 21 days ago

Text

𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑜 𝒶𝒸𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓂𝒾𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉𖤓

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 <--

nsfw =♡

fluff = ☁︎

angst = ☾

fem! reader = ✮

multi! reader = ꩜

nb! reader = ❀

takami keigo

-dry humping♡ ✮ (drabble)

shouta aizawa

-ex!teacher aizawa jerking off to ur interview♡ ✮(hero!reader)(nsfw)

-lil kitty(coming soon)

denki kaminari

-denki luvs ur tits♡ ✮ (drabble)

-denki's got the hots for the new student, maybe too bad..♡✮(drabble)

bakugo katsuki

-katsuki takin all his anger out on u♡✮(nsfw)

-boss needs assistance!(coming soon)

kai chisaki

-soft spot(coming soon)

tamaki amajiki

-let me teach you(coming soon)

hitoshi shinso

-nothing here yet!

hizashi yamada

-nothing here yet!

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megseungmin · 21 days ago

Text

𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊𝖗

PAIRING: F. Reader x Seungcheol x Jeonghan x Soonyoung x Seokmin x Vernon x Chan

SUMMARY: When the Divine’s cult conquers your home, they don't expect you to survive, let alone fight back. Captured but not broken, you and the unlikeliest of allies are ready to burn it all down.

TEASER WC: 947

AU: Romantic Fantasy, Werewolves, Omegaverse Dynamics, Polyamourous

GENRE: Smut, Heavy Angst, Fluff, Romance

TEASER WARNINGS: Fantasy violence featuring sword dighting, stabbing/slashing, axe wounds and death, named characters (side characters) deaths, themes of war, themes of sudden grief amid battle, depiction of combat injuries/blood, mild depictions of killing during battle, depictions of reader in states of fear and anxiety, implied threats of violence (it's a battle scene)

SCHEDULE: This fic updates on full moons and new moons.

A/N: Happy Teaser Day! Here is a sneak peak at what I've been working on. I hope you enjoy my spiral into this fantasy world as much as I do.

SERIES M. LIST | MAIN M. LIST | PLAYLIST | SERIES TAG LIST | ASK

𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔫𝔢𝔵𝔱 𝔫𝔢𝔴 𝔪𝔬𝔬𝔫

Air punches in and out of your lungs. You tear through the garden, sliding on loose gravel and tripping over curated rosebuds. You don’t stop to think that you’ll never see your mother and the gardener, Iliana, trimming hedges together again. You don’t stop to think about how during full moon festivals, the gardens would be full of life and costume and party. You don’t stop to think how moments ago, Yordan took an arrow for you.

You launch over a fountain, feet crashing into the rocks, spraying them as you continue on your escape. On the other side of the gardens, it’s silent. War echoes behind you, but it grows quieter. You don’t know if it’s because you’re getting further from the battle or because your people are dying, no longer able to put up a fight.

The tunnel entrance is hidden underneath a massive mausoleum that is made of old stone and weeping ivy in monument to Sirya. It stands near the southeast side of the palace, just beyond the final hedge of the gardens.

You skid as you near the break in the hedge, jaw working. You smell them before you see them - Bloodhaven soldiers leaning against the crumbling mausoleum. Their swords are wet with blood, scarlet armor half-burned. Somehow, they’ve circled around from the southern gate. Somehow, they knew.

There’s no time to think. The first lunges. You roar, throat raw, as your sword buries in his shoulder. Another lunges low but Hikari intercepts him, small and furious, knives flashing like lightning. Liora drives her blade into a throat, but a red wolf’s axe catches her from behind, splitting bone and spine.

“Liora!” you scream, but she’s already gone, eyes wide with shock before she hits the dirt.

Jian grabs your shoulder, forces you forward even as Hikari screams behind you, her voice cuts off in a wet choke as a blade finds her ribs. Jian drags you on, teeth bared, blood splashing your boots as you stumble toward the tomb.

Then an arrow finds Jian, a clean shot between her shoulders. She shudders, sagging into you. You try to hold her up, but she pushes you hard toward the stone door. Her eyes, bright, steady, fierce even now, pin you in place for one last heartbeat.

“Go,” she rasps.

She falls.

And it’s just you.

Your shoulder is screaming and you’re breathing too fast, but you’re still standing. An arrow whizzes and you duck while snapping your dagger at it, knocking it off target. You strike forward with your sword, catching the archer through the chin.

Another Bloodhaven wolf swings her axe at you, baring her teeth. You roll out of her way, the axe sinking into the wet earth, getting stuck. She grunts, trying to pull the axe out of the ground but you’re already striking, cutting the back of her hamstrings to make her crumple to her knees before driving your dagger through the back of her head with a dull crunch.

No one is left to challenge you. Heaving, you stumble toward the mausoleum. You just need to open the door and get inside where the empty tomb is. If you push the lid -

A new scent cuts through the haze, sharp and clean and unlike the other scents of the wolves you’ve just killed. You spin toward the sound of heavy footfalls, baring your teeth at the slowed approach of a new soldier.

An alpha steps toward you, slow and sure, his gaze sweeping over the fallen bodies scattered around you before landing on your blood-soaked figure. He’s dressed in black armor, battered and worn, though a single red scarf is tied at his belt like a brand. No sigil. No crest. But you know without question he belongs to the Divine.

His skin is tan, streaked with sweat and blood. His eyes are twin embers, glowing amber and catching the light like fire behind smoke. Beneath the iron and sweat, his scent curls toward you, bergamot and cedarwood. Comforting, if he weren’t staring at you with a blade in hand.

He’s handsome. It’s an afterthought, but an observation nonetheless. Dark black hair that hangs in his eyes, pressed against his sweaty forehead. Broad shoulders with thick arms, honed from being a practiced fighter. He has a sharp jaw and his plush lips are downturned in a frown, thick brows pinched together as he tries to puzzle you out.

He doesn’t move. He just stares at you, something on his face akin to horror lurking beneath the surface. You’re not sure what he sees that leaves him stricken, but his game eventually flicks to the mausoleum entrance behind you. Then back to you.

“Alright then,” he murmurs, voice soft and deep. “Go ahead.”

Your heart begins to pound. He isn’t attacking and he hasn’t moved. He’s seemingly letting you go.

It doesn’t make sense. The wolves of Bloodhaven are brutal and loyal, borderline fanatics. They kill on command and conquer without mercy. This is the kind of alpha who should strike you down immediately, who should already have you on your knees. He’s the kind who razes cities because his Divine tells him to.

You step toward him, fury tightening your limbs.

“You’re going to die today,” you murmur, voice raw.

He takes a step back from you. “I’m offering you a chance to live. Whatever tunnel that is, I suggest you use it.” You take another step toward him and his eyes dip to the necklace at your throat, the crest of Valen. His eyes dilate. “Princess.”

You grip your sword tighter, a warning pulsing through you - do not submit. You bare your teeth. “One that bites.”

SERIES M. LIST | MAIN M. LIST | PLAYLIST | SERIES TAG LIST | ASK

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megseungmin · 21 days ago

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White Blank Page (Teaser)

pairing; choi seungcheol (s.coups) x f reader

genre; smut (minor dni), angst, royalty AU, fairy tale spinoff

summary; You had met Prince Seungcheol of Tsornoia twice in your life and now you were going to be his wife. You would be queen and share in everything his life meant—the good and the bad.

content warnings; fairy tale au (snow white), royalty au, prince!seungcheol, princess!reader, prince!joshua, duke!jeonghan, butler!seungkwan, evil queen, evil stepmother, arranged marriage, dark themes, blackmail, attempted murder, poisoning, horses, falling off a horse, pregnancy, miscarriage, eating/drinking, alcohol, crying, fighting—this one reminds us that fairy tales aren't always happy.

smut warnings; unprotected sex, loss of virginity, fingering, oral, breeding kink (sue me its a cheol fic), crying from pleasure -- if there is something i missed let me know.

w/c; 1.5k (teaser) -- full fic with Patreon bonus 26.6k

song inspiration; white blank page - mumford and sons

a/n; thank you to @junkissed for proofreading. this fic kicked my ass i won't even lie. i love it but i am also happy to finally get it out to you. i enjoyed writing the beauty and the beast spin off for fatal trouble and this snow white spin off was just as interesting to write! thank you all for reading and being patient.

A white blank page and a swelling rage, rage You did not think when you sent me to the brink, to the brink You desired my attention But denied my affections, my affections

this fic will be released. 7/31 to read the full fic with the bonus now, subscribe to my patreon and click here

The paper felt like it weighed a ton in Seungcheol’s hands. It wasn’t that he didn’t wish or want to marry you, but this wedding seemed rushed. Neither the bride nor the groom had much say in how anything would take place, and Seungcheol had been giving very little opportunity to speak with you leading up to the day. In truth, he had only spoken to you a handful of times, and now, by the end of the day, you’d be his wife—his future queen.

The first time he had met you, neither of you were old enough to realize what your future would be. You were a cute girl dressed far too regal for your age. Despite being just two years younger than Seungcheol, you seemed so young and fragile in his eyes. Seungcheol had been raised to be strong of will and body; you had been raised to match the beauty that had been evident from the time you had been born.

“Be gentle with her. She isn’t your friend, Seungcheol. She is their princess. She may be your future bride.”

Seungcheol could remember turning his nose up at the idea. He had been far too young to care about a wife. He had wanted to play with you like he would with any of his other friends. It wasn’t until the two of you were running around the palace garden and you tripped, cutting your knee. That was when Seungcheol realized playing with a girl, especially a pretty princess like you, was different than playing with one of the rugged sons of a duke.

“Stop crying…”

Your eyes were wide as blood began to run down your leg towards your ankle. Big tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping onto the front of your dress. Seungcheol was beginning to panic. He had been told to be careful, and he had done the exact opposite.

“Please… You’re gonna get me in trouble, Princess. ‘M sorry!”

You attempted to suck back your tears, but the more you tried and the more that Seungcheol begged you to stop crying, the harder they fell. Moving to his knees, Seungcheol pouted before taking out his small handkerchief and tediously began cleaning the blood from your leg.

“Th–thank you.”

You had spoken through your tears. The sound of your shaky voice had almost broken Seungcheol’s heart. You really were as fragile and gentle as you seemed.

“Y/N!”

You and Seungcheol had looked towards the frantic voice. A boy of his same age had all but pushed Seungcheol out of his way and settled at your side. He was clearly upset, his fingers carefully checking your skin around the angry cut.

“What happened? What did you do to her?”

Seungcheol had started to speak and to defend himself when he found himself staring at you in surprise.

“Shua! No. I fell down. Prince Seungcheol didn’t do anything bad.” You had always had your big brother wrapped around your pinky. You were his only sibling and his pride and joy. “Don’t be mad, ‘kay? See, I’m not crying anymore.”

It was difficult for Seungcheol or Joshua to hide their smiles as you wiped your wet cheeks and smiled so sweetly to prove your point.

“I—you gotta be more careful, Y/N. You got blood on your dress…” Joshua’s brows had furrowed, concern deeply written in his eyes as he helped you stand. “My—Prince Seungcheol, look, I’m sorry. It’s my job to watch her, and then I heard her crying. Our dad would literally kill me if somethin—”

“I get it. You don’t have to apologize to me. I—” Meeting your pretty eyes, Seungcheol cleared his throat and sighed into his words. “I wouldn’t ever hurt her on purpose…”

Seungcheol had meant those words, and he had kept that promise into the second meeting with you. He had just turned 19, and you were truly the belle of the ball. He had moved past childish notions of how he felt about girls, and you—you had taken his breath away.

“Good evening, Princess.”

Your smile was the same, just like your eyes. You were kind. Your kingdom loved and cherished you. Many other kingdoms had begun showing interest, and once again Seungcheol’s parents reminded him that you might be his queen one day. It all seemed so silly at the time. He wasn’t anywhere close to being ready to marry, and yet as he looked at you in a grand ballroom, he considered it.

“Prince Seungcheol. It’s an honor to see you again.” You weren’t lying. You had thought about Choi Seungcheol many times over the years, and as you grew up, his face had stayed with you. “Though you are much bigger than the last time we met.”

Just like your smile, your laugh was sweet and melodic. It was the type of sound that made Seungcheol’s heart tighten. He found himself wanting to hear it again, as often as possible. Laughing quietly into his own words, Seungcheol offered you his arm, allowing him to guide you towards the dance floor. “I—well, yes. I’ve grown, as have you.” He knew it was bold, but a sense of pride was flowing through him like waves of light as bright as your smile. “I mean, you’ve grown in beauty, though surely you know.”

You felt eyes on you and Seungcheol as you let him lead you to the middle of the floor. His attention was like standing next to an open flame. No matter where you looked, you always found yourself drawn back to his dark brown eyes. “Oh… I—thank you. I’m not sure I would say that about myself. I’m merely comm—”

“There is nothing common about you, Y/N.”

It was the first time he had called you by your name. The sound of it on his lips was enough to leave you breathless. You weren’t a fool. You knew what you meant to the princes of the surrounding kingdoms, but this was Choi Seungcheol of Tsornoria. You were common compared to him—everyone was. “You are too kind, your highness. You flatter me.”

Seungcheol found himself that day wondering if your cheeks would be hot to the touch after receiving his compliments. You were so endearingly shy. It was obvious how innocent you still were, and yet Seungcheol dared to test his limits with you. He had lifted his hand and brushed away the hair on your cheek; to his pleasant surprise, your skin was as warm as it would be if you had been sitting by a fire.

“Perhaps, but it’s not a lie. Are you not aware of how many other princes here are plotting my demise at this moment?” Amused with your reaction, how you scanned the room looking for danger, Seungcheol laughed softly and carefully grasped your waist, leading you with the music. “I mean that every man in this room wishes they were in my place. They wish they were the one dancing with you.”

You weren’t so naive that you didn’t know what this ball was for. You were coming of age in a few short years, and soon negotiations would begin. You would be marrying someone in this room, the thought of which terrified you—until you met Seungcheol’s eyes again. “Perhaps. But I chose to dance with you.”

Since that day, Seungcheol had known that this might eventually happen, but things were different. It had been close to ten years since that ball, and suddenly overnight it was real. Seungcheol wanted to be happy, perhaps even excited about this marriage, but something was nagging him in the back of his head.

For the past few years, different arrangements had been in the works. He had lost any hope that you would end up his bride, but each one of the arrangements had failed. It had all started after his father passed away and he became the crown prince. His mother—his stepmother, the queen—had taken over for his father, and Seungcheol’s life was turned on its head.

“I want this entire hall prepared for the Hong family. It’s of utmost importance!”

Seungcheol could feel the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes, and the sound of his stepmother’s voice only made it worse. She had fought so many of the previous arrangements to just suddenly change her mind when your family had finally accepted.

It wasn’t exactly hidden how much money she had spent since her husband’s death. The kingdom was suffering for her indulgence, and its only saving grace was that Seungcheol was going to take his place at the throne. Once he took his birthright, he would have access to the money that was left to him by his father—money that his stepmother would never have the right to while he was breathing.

Now the fact that Seungcheol was standing around with his head in his hands only fueled his stepmother’s annoyance. He had a job to do. There may not have been much, in her not-so-humble opinion, that Seungcheol was good at, but at least he had his father’s looks.

“Choi Seungcheol!”

READ THE ENTIRE FIC NOW

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megseungmin · 21 days ago

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Blue jeans, white shirt, walked into the room you know you made my eyes burn.

Or your boyfriend's got the nicest cock.

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megseungmin · 24 days ago

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just thought i’d let u know when i saw ur stepdad cheol poll my body took a screenshot and ive never pressed anything so quick .

Relief, the Right Way

pairing: stepdad cheol x female reader

synopsis: You bring your date home without expecting your new stepdad seungcheol to be home. You say it was just for stress relief so seungcheol proves how much better he is for you than your date after kicking him out.

WC: 3.7k

cw: smut, fingering, unprotected sex, degrading, slight overstimulation, big cock!seungcheol, obviously stepdad stuff mentioned, dirty talk, possessive cheol, slight choking??

note: this took me agessss sorry anon i was busy. (id be lying if i said cheols recent insta posts didn’t motivate me to finally finish this) also i have not proofread this so may be mistakes, my bad!!

Your mum had recently remarried, unfortunately for you, she decided to marry a man that any girl would find impossible to not fall for, Choi Seungcheol. How your mum managed to get him to marry her in such a short period of time was beyond you, especially since he was closer in age to you than her.

After you broke up with your long-term boyfriend, you had moved back into the house where your mum and Seungcheol lived. However, today you had decided to go out and see your current situationship. Bearing in mind that Seungcheol ordinarily worked late hours, you thought nothing of taking your date back the house.

Laughter filled the doorway as you and your date entered the living room, still reminiscing over the day you had. Seungcheol glanced up from his documents as you came in, raising one of his defined eyebrows upon seeing you in that little black dress which adorned your body, hugging your curves in a seductive manner that was impossible for him to deny. He raised his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose as he gulped, his adams apple visibly moving as his eyes flick to the man by your side, taking in his appearance.

Without thought, your body freezes up from the unexpected meeting between your situationship and Seungcheol, enraptured within the awkward silence. You look towards your side to see your date mirroring the same expression that you wore, only his noticeably containing more fear.

"Who's this then? And why is he in my house?" Seungcheol says with his jaw clenched, successfully attempting to retain a cold front yet not directly making eye contact as his eyes remain busy putting away his documents which decorated the coffee table before him.

Searching for an excuse, the only suitable words you could think of slip out your mouth, "A friend. He's just my friend."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Seungcheol questions as he lowers his glasses before discarding them to the side. The heavy weight of his gaze rendering you speechless before you gather your thoughts.

"Well, we are going to go upstairs and.. hang out." You were a grown woman, but something about this man made you feel guilty for having relationships, even though you knew it was justifiable. But was it? The guilt consumed you, it was as if only one look from that man's wide eyes had you under his control, like he could read every thought going through your head and it made your whole body want to surrender to it. It was stupid. But it was undeniable.

You swiftly grab your date's hand and make your way up to your room to escape the tense atmosphere that had unintentionally been created. You were unsure what the room had become tense with, unease from an awkward encounter— it was possible. Yet something about it made your skin hot, a different type of tension which was hard to name but so easy to feel.

In the living room, Seungcheol lets out an exasperated sigh. He can't just allow you to bring boys to his house in the middle of the night. He could feel his irritation growing as the sound of your bedroom door closing could be heard. Without thought, he begins pacing around the living room, debating whether to intervene or not. The thought of each possibility that could be taking place behind that door playing hrough his mind, making his blood boil further with every step.

Clearly, Seungcheol and your date's encounter hadn't affected your date as much as it did Seungcheol. As soon as you enter your bedroom, you are turned against the door in a hurried manner, your back pinned against the cold material. He smirks before his lips make contact with your neck, his rushed kisses travel down your neck from your jaw, gently sucking onto any available skin, leaving marks as a souvenir of his actions. He lightly lets his teeth graze over your delicate skin as you let the inevitable whimper escape your throat.

Despite the thick walls which seperate you, this sound you create is made inarguable to Seungcheol. The protective instincts deep within him surging to the forefront of his mind, blurring any radical thoughts.

Your date's hands slide down from your waist to the hem of your dress, bunching up the fabric as his eyes remain locked onto yours. His hand then travels to your clothed core, teasing your sensitive spot through the fabric, coaxing out subtle, high-pitch moans to leave you.

Cheol clenches his fists, his knuckles turning white. He can't take it anymore. Without proper consideration, he marches up to your room, each step of his becoming a testament to his vigilance. He loosens his tie in frustration before knocking on your bedroom door twice, rage fueling every movement.

"I'm busy..!" You choke out a weak reply, unable to fabricate a reasonable excuse.

"Busy or not, you're going to open this door, sweetheart." Seungcheol says firmly, his voice laced with authority.

Your eyes meet the man in front of you again, filled with confliction from the dilemma you had been placed in. His actions don't halt. His slender fingers continue their journey, outlining the hem of your panties, becoming closer to your heat.

Seungcheol can feel the waves of his impatience growing with every second of silence he is left with, banging on the door with more force. "Countdown, young lady," he says, his voice stern, "5... 4... 3..."

You hurriedly push the man off you as you attempt to fix yourself, tugging down your dress and moving your hair to cover the pattern of hickeys that now accessorised your neck. You watch the doorknob turn at an agonizingly slow pace.

Seungcheol's presence then fills the room, his scent already finding its way to your nose. Seungcheol surveys the state of your appearance— your dress appearing to be slightly wrinkled, your cheeks flushed a rosy-shade and your clear aim to hide something on the side of your neck. His jaw clenches at the sight before he redirects his vision to your date, beside you.

“You.” his voice was low and threatening.

“You have exactly 30 seconds to tell me why you thought it was appropriate to come into my house under the guise of being her ‘friend’ and do who knows what with her in the middle of the night.”

Grabbing your situationship by the arm, you pull him aside from Seungcheol. “We are just hanging out, Cheol.” you ask defensively as you try to avoid his line of vision.

"And what part of 'hanging out' involves leaving marks on your neck, may I ask?" His vision finds you and your eyes lock. His heavy gaze fills you with that same guilt, for no apparent reason.

You are left with no rebuttal, the only words that can fight to leave you are, "Why do you care? I'm an adult."

"Because you are under my care. And because I don't appreciate some boy thinking he can touch you like you're some plaything" His eyes were sharp, encased in authority, his thick, defined eybrows were furrowed and his hand was subconsciously pointing towards you, further highlighting the power he holds in every action of his.

You are left speechless. One reason being your urge to comply with his demands, the command he has over you becoming almost degrading. The other reason being the fact that it was your first time seeing this side of him. You never knew he cared about you to this extent. However, the most alarming concern was the fact that his simple care had managed heighten you arousal in ways you had never experienced before, causing your mind to blank.

Your eyes followed his as they flicked back to your date, his anger visibly flaring up further. "If I see you anywhere near this house again, or even hear your name in connection to my stepdaughter, you'll regret the day you were born."

You accept defeat as you look up apologetically at your date, who you can see is still conflicted. After seconds of contemplation paired with an unwavering stare from Seungcheol, he ultimately has no choice but to say goodbye before Seungcheol hurries him out the door.

"Get over here." He says sternly, gesturing for you to come towards him. His eyes are hard, his body tense with anger and disappointment. His gaze locks on you as you approach him, his eyes narrowing at the sight of your head slightly bowed down.

He reaches out and gently lifts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. "Look at me." He commands you firmly. "What am I going to do with you, sweetheart?"

You leave him with no reply, letting the evident look of shame being worn on your face do the talking.

He tilts his head to the side as his jaw clenches, "Do you have an explanation for me? I think that's the least I deserve."

You still actively tried to avoid his overpowering gaze, however that just led your eyesight upon his arms which were sculpted with such effortless strength. The way they flexed with each subtle movement wasn't just a display of that strength, but a silent promise of safety, of warmth. This forced your eyes back up to his face as you constructed a reply. "I just needed to relieve some stress.."

Unlike you, Seungcheol instantly replied, "So you think that is the best way?"

Every word that left his mouth was dripping in power. It was clear that his intentions stemmed from care but something in his delivery felt demeaning. He took a step closer to you, slowly closing the gap which seperated your bodies.

"There are plenty of other ways to relieve stress and sexual frustration, young lady. You need to start making better decisions, especially when it comes to men." His voice drops a tone deeper, the connotations of his words becoming more apparent as his hand begins to trail up your arm, his touch being light, serving as a harsh contrast to his tone.

"L-Like what?" Your eyes open wide as the question left your lips. You knew what he was referring to, yet your mind wouldn't let you properly comprehend his words, leaving you in denial.

He grits his teeth again, trying to keep his frustration in check. "You really want me to spell it out for you?" He asks, his voice a little rougher. Seungcheol leans in further, his lips now nearly brushing against your ear. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Sweetheart." He whispers, the heat from his breath sending a shiver through you.

Seungcheol chuckles at your feigned innonence as he gently brushes a strand of your hair away from your face, his fingers barely skimming your skin. His voice drops even lower, his lips now barely an inch from yours. "You really want me to walk you through it, darling?"

You nod as Seungcheol smirks, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he looks at you. "Let me show you then," You then feel his firm, determined hands handle your hips as he spins you to have your back facing him. He whispers, his hand gently grabbing her wrist and guiding it to the hem of her dress. "Close your eyes, Sweetheart."

Your eyes close and he continues to guide your hand, slowly easing it under your dress, his own hand still lightly gripping your wrist. "Feel how soft your skin is." He whispers, his low and sultry voice going straight to your core.

He smiles slightly, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he murmurs "Good girl. Now, keep your eyes closed and focus on how it feels." His hand slowly moves yours higher, over your thigh. He takes his time guiding it higher, the heat radiating off your skin as he moves. "That's it, darling." He whispers, his voice low and thick with desire.

Your mouth shyly hangs open at the overwhelmingly tense atmosphere that had been created as seungcheol gently pushes your fingers towards the edge of your panties. "Now, feel how warm you are underneath there." The new command leaves his mouth, his voice a mixture of husk and authority.

Seungcheol's hand is still wrapped around your wrist as he guides you to gently push against your most sensitive area. "Do you feel that?" his words sound expressionless yet you can tell his is refraining himself with every word.

"It's wet." You speak out, your words barely forming.

His breath catches in his throat at your words, a low moan escaping his lips as he feels the heat from your body. He's trying to keep his composure but the way your voice quivers and your reaction to his actions makes it nearly impossible.

"Does it feel better than when you do it on your own, darling?" He asks, his voice a low rumble as you nod eagerly, completely lost in his touch.

Seungcheol smirks as his grip on you slightly tightens. "That's right, darling. And do you know whos relieving that stress for you?"

"You.. You are." He begins to leave a trail of slow kisses on your neck as you speak, your body still pressed against his as he controls your movements.

"Good girl." He says with a large exhale, "And do you want me to keep helping you with that stress, darling?" His words a followed by your head nodding again, growing with desperation.

At your signal of consent, you feel him move your fingers lower, until he pushes them into your core, the sudden pleasure forcing a moan from your body as you melt into his grasp. He keeps you up steady, one of his hands snaked around your waist, the other on your wrist and his head in the crook of your neck from behind.

The deep warmth from his breath slowly fanned across the side of your neck with every exhale he took and sent shivers down to your core. His scent filtered through the air of your bedroom and reached your nose filling it with his prominant, primal smell.

The feeling of you slowly losing every one of your senses and completely unravelling in his touch, was one that Seungcheol found hard to contain. Every slight jerk of your wrist by him had you arching against him and convulsing eagerly around yourself.

His eyes remained half-lidded shaded by lust as they found yours in the mirror opposite you. You hadn't noticed the view that was displayed in front of you yet but god had Seungcheol noticed it. It showed you with your head rolled back onto Seungcheol's broad, steady shoulders which led down to his thick biceps decorated in veins, which were the only thing keeping you upright as it led to his hand grasping your wrist— much smaller in comparison, and that wrist led to your lips spread apart with the dim light catching the moisture.

You could view Seungcheol's gaze, his eyes which were now focused on your body as his pace increased. That gaze which consumed you. You needed this man. You needed your stepdad. That confession made you submit fully as you let out trails of whimpers.

Seungcheol's breath hitches as he feels you moving your hips, grinding down onto your own fingers that were penetrating you, his own body reacting to your actions as he feels his trousers tighten somehow further.

You feel it— you feel all of it. The added sensation of the feeling of his dick against your ass only through the barrier of clothing sending you close to the edge.

"You're getting close, aren't you? I'm getting you there, just a little more." Seungcheol winces at the thought of his own fingers being the ones you were clenching around but promptly redirects his attention back to guiding your fingers to make you finish.

Your eyes close but Seungcheol's stay firmly in the mirror, watching your chest rise rapidly as your body vibrates back onto him and his bulge. Overcome by pleasure, you melt into Cheol's grasp. He feels a warm liquid trail down from your wrist to his hand.

"Don't worry about that, darling. I'll take care of it." He gently guides your hand to his plump lips and slowly licks your fingers clean, his tongue licking a line from your wrist before sucking it off your fingertips. He lets out a series of low moans as he tastes her on his tongue, the action making him shiver. "You taste so sweet, baby."

He can tell you are taking your time to process what just happened, the switch from your distant stepfather always working when you see him to him now licking your cum as his eyes never leave yours in your bedroom mirror. Reassuring you, he states, "I know what my little girl needs, and I'm more than happy to provide."

"More-" Is the only word which can escape your throat. Your voice is shaky, your lips parted and your thighs still shaking. It's a command yet in this circumstance, that word couldn't sound less pathetic— it was more of a plea. A desperate plea which was the only word your mind could think as you felt Seungcheols tip rubbing the curve of your ass through his sexy work trousers.

"More?" His determined arms spin you around to face him as he begins walking forward, forcing you to walk back. “After I just watched you fall apart for me without even touching you?” His words are laced with a layer of almost disgust, putting you in your place. "My greedy little girl." With his final words, he stops moving. You now stood with your ass perched against the side of your desk, arms leaning behind you for support as Cheol towered down over you. Your arms shook with a flash of hesitation from the act you were about to comit.

"Don't get shy now~" His words sound like they are spitting down at you. "You brought a boy to my house." "Now you are going to learn what a man feels like, understood?"

You gulp and reply, your voice barely a whisper "Understood, teach me.." Your request was immediately followed by a growl from Sengcheol by your neck, "Oh i plan to."

His actions don’t give you a moment to second-guess. Your desk jerks under you as he turns you around again, the tent in his trousers grazing against your behind. His other hand slides up your inner thigh from behind, to carress your ass bent over in front of him this time with purpose, not guidance.

“I’m going to fuck every trace of him out of you.” He says it like a promise. Like a threat. Like something he’s enjoying too much.

You nod, too breathless to speak. You can hear the sound of his belt unbuckling and all you can do is pray your mum doesn't come home.

His fingers pull your underwear to the side like they were never meant to be there. The next second, he’s inside you in one slow, cruel thrust.

Your head tips back with a gasp. You thought this was going to be a normal fuck but god were you so undoubtedly wrong. His slow thrust leaves you feeling lightheaded as you become accustomed to the harsh pain. The feeling of him splitting you apart raw was one that only in this moment could you realise that you had been craving so deeply.

“That’s it,” he groans, his hands gripping your ass, with a sudden smack. “Now take it. Take all of it. Like my good little girl.”

You can feel the assuring weight of him on your back as he leans down to angle his thrusts even harder, already reaching your most sensitive spots with ease just from his size and precision. Fuck, your mum was lucky but you couldn't even think about that in this moment as you were so consumed by the pleasure he was delivering you.

The sounds of your bedroom were becoming more lewd with every thrust. The combination of the wet slapping skin, your cries of pleasure and Cheol's gravelly moans would make what you are currently doing completely apparent if anyone were to enter the house, or even walk past the street at this point.

"You shouldn’t want this." Seungcheol punctautes each word with a thrust, "But you do. Just like I do."

His hand reaches round to grab your neck, with the feeling of his cold wedding ring slightly scratching at your skin.

"You’re gonna let me ruin you while wearing this ring?" Your moans become a trail of incoherent whimpers as he speaks, "Go ahead. Feel it. Doesn’t change a fucking thing."

You look around to meet his harsh gaze as his eyes lock onto yours and he lets you feel seen through a deep sudden thrust which knocks you further onto the desk, the furniture creaking making a sound which he seems to enjoy by the smirk on his lips.

"Do you think she ever gets me like this? Hm?" His thrusts become harder yet begin to falter. "No. Only you."

From his confession, you clench, feeling yourself become overwhlemed with pleasure. His cock seems to somehow hit even deeper in his determined pace.

Seungcheol can feel you clench tight around him and it's better than he could've ever imagined, his cock is pulsating as he pistons it into you without control, building to his release. He holds your hips steady, smacking your ass before gripping the skin of your hips and bringing you back onto him as he thrusts, the impact driving higher pitched screams from you.

You become completely immobile as he guides you as if he owns you—as if he was actually yours. You feel the rough, brutal pace build as you can no longer handle the pressure. Your eyes roll back as the feeling consumes you and you make a mess all over his dick.

He doesn't pull out. He fucks you harder. He somehow fucks you further. Fully focused on his release until he gives you one final thrust into overstimulation before filling you. His warm liquid spreads throughout your insides and you are left fully fucked out. He crashes into your back, resting his weight upon you as he breathes heavily onto the back of your neck.

Seungcheol pulls out slowly as he whispers into your ear, "Next time you bring someone here, make sure it’s me."

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megseungmin · 24 days ago

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champagne papi | c.sc

everyone thinks you married your husband fo the money, but you really bagged him for his perfectly plump ass

pairing: seungcheol x f. reader genre: smut wordcount: 3k a/n: hi, this has been siting in my drafts for literally so long. scoups is hot, so here ya go. as always, ty to @hannieween for putting up with hearing about this fic for like, at least a year. uwu ily x (also this isn't proofread, if you see anhy typos/grammar mistakes no you didn'ttttt)

You love when rich people throw charity balls.

You're not a fan of the crowd in the upper echelon. Nor are you a fan of feigning interest in their elitest small talk.

No, what you're a massive fan of is how your husabnd Seungcheol's ass looks in his perfectly tailored black pants. His reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator is something you can't take your eyes off of. The way his pants hug the curvature of his—

"Baby, are you staring at my butt?"

Your eyes tear away from his reflection and up into his eyes. Dark brown, like an intoxicating whiskey. A knowing smile plays on his lips.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, raising an eyebrow.

Seungcheol responds by leaning in to leave a soft kiss on your lips, chuckling when you whine, eyes closed, chasing after his lips for more. "We're almost there baby." He snakes an arm around your waist and rubs up and down your side, hands skating of the soft silk of your dress. A dress he bought for you, just so he could have the satisfaction of ripping it off of you later tonight.

The elevator dings, doors sliding open to the penthouse suite. After every gala, every ball, any event in the city, Seungcheol always books the same room for the two of you to stay the night.

"See, come on baby," Seungcheol smacks a wet kiss on your cheek then bends down to slip his arm under your legs, picking you up bridal style.

You shriek, throwing your arms around his neck, "Seungcheol!" Laughter rumbles through his chest as you snuggle into him, a feeling of content, and home, settling in your chest. He carries you to the bed with ease, tossing you gently into the piles of rose petals he has the staff lay out while you two were at the gala.

Your hands smooth over the soft red petals and you turn on your side to admire your husband as he opened up a bottle of champagne. Forearms flex as he twists the cork out, a gold watch glinting on his wrist. Somewhere between tossing you into bed and the champagne, he'd lost his suit jacket, clad now in just his form fitting, pressed black shirt. His sleeves are rolled up, top few buttons undone, and an untied bowtie hangs around his collar. Your eyes rake down the expanse of his back, pausing once you get to his tight, round, ass.

"Baby," sang Seungcheol. Without even turning around, he asks, "Are you staring at my butt again?"

Even though he couldn't see you, you lift your chin at him in defience, whining, "It's my ass, I'll stare if I want to."

Seungcheol swivels around, gripping the bottle neck tightly, and eyebrow raised. "Oh, it's yours is it?" He takes a swig straight from the bottle, wiping at his lips with the back of his hand, leaving a wet streak across his cheek. His eyes travel up and down your body, drinking in the sight of you.

Your tightly twisted bun had slowly unraveled through the night, ringlets of curls now framing your face. The faded pink of your lips. The delicate gold chain around your neck. The strap of your silk dress slipping off your shoulder. And lastly, your big, wide eyes, looking up at him like you were ready for him to eat your up in one big bite, and by god did he want to.

If you thought Seungcheol looked good, Seungcheol thought you look ethereal.

He sets the champagne down on a table and makes his way to you. When he's at the foot of your bed, you prop yourself up on your elbows, biting your bottom lip, and staring up at him through your lashes.

It takes everything in Seungcheol not to groan. He knows the look you give him all too well.

It’s the “have-your-way-with-me” look. The “i’ll-let-you-do-absolutely-anything to-me” look. The “if-i-can-walk-tomorrow-you-didn’t-fuck-me-hard-enough” look.

You were gonna be the death of him.

Seungcheol kneels by the edge of the bed, and you swallow in anticipation as he takes your feet in his hands, one by one removing your heels and setting them on the floor. He pads his thumb over the soles of your feet, applying pressue where he feels you'll need it most. You nearly throw your head back in moan from the relief.

"That feel good baby?” Seungcheol'd hands don't stop massaging.

"Yeah," your voice is breathier than before. You think you can become undone from this alone.

Seungcheol's hands pause, "Do you want to feel even better?"

You feel your breath hitch, and your voice comes out barely as a whisper, "Yes."

Seungcheol stands up, dragging his hands up your legs and gently pushing them apart so he can get on the bed, nestling himself between your thighs while on his knees.

“Lean back baby,” he says, and you let yourself fall back onto the fluffed pillows.

What Seungcheol doesn't expect is for you to grab at his belt, pulling him down with you. He falls into your chest with an oof, your heads almost knocking against each other.

"Baby," Seungcheol lets out a deep whine, from the back of his throat, as he sits back up. You make grabby hands at his waist. "Baby wait," he laughs, grabbing you by the wrists and pinning your arms down on either side of you, "what's gotten into you today?"

You're looking anywhere but into his eyes as you mumble something incoherent.

Seungcheol's still trying to catch your eyes though, "Hm? What was that hun?" You don't have to be looking at him to know he's probably got that stupid grin on his face. Seungcheol finds this side of you cute.

You grumble something again and Seungcheol can't help but let out a laugh, "Baby, you gotta speak up."

"I've been waiting all night!" You finally snap, eyes doing the same to look at him, only to the shrink back from the intent way he's gazing back at you.

"Well, you'll have to wait just a little bit longer," Seungcheol moves your arms above your head as you try to squirm out of his hold. He tuts at you, shifting to hold both your wrists with one hand, taking your face in his other. Heat radiates off his hand as he cups your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb, "Can you do that? For me?"

Your voice catches in your throat, and you nod dumbly in response.

Seungcheol leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, his hot breath fanning across your face as you close your eyes. “You look beauitful tonight baby,” he says softly, placing a feathery kiss on one cheek. Then your nose. Then the corner of your mouth. “Let me show you, yeah?”

You nod, eyes closed, still unable to speak, holding your breath in anticipation. Despite being married for years, your husband still made you feel like the shy, blushing bride you used to be.

You feel Seungcheol’s lips against yours, warm and plush. You sigh into the kiss, body melting into the mattress as you relax. You were putty under Seungcheol. He grips tighter at your jaw, tilting your head up so he can deepen the kiss, nipping at your lower lip as he does so. Your lips part, giving entry to Seungcheol’s tongue, and he licks into your mouth, swallowing the moans coming out of you.

Heat pools in your gut and you can feel yourself needing more of Seungcheol than just his lips.

As if on cue, Seungcheol gives your wrists a soft squeeze before releasing them. His lips leave yours for just a moment as he shifts, now straddling one of your legs.

Both his hands are then back on your face, gripping your cheeks firmly as he kisses you again, sucking on your lower lip. He places a wet kiss on your chin, then moves down your neck, placing kisses as he goes.

Seungcheol sucks softly on the sensitive hollow of your neck at the same time that your feel his thigh brush against your clothed cunt. Your hand fly to his hair, fingers tangling in his soft strands, “Seungcheol.” You let out a breathy gasp as he moves his thigh against your soaked panties, eyes rolling back as Seungcheol continues to pepper kisses down your neck, back to your jawline, to the tops of your shoulders.

“You—” kiss, “—drive me—” kiss, “—-absolutely crazy.”

Kiss.

Seungcheol's teeth graze where your neck meets your shoulder and your breath hitches, letting out another choked gasp. He bites down, sucking harshly at the spot and your fingers tug at his hair, making him groan into your skin. Your hips involuntarily buck against his thigh again, and he clenches his thigh muscles, a light whimper leaving your mouth.

You slip your hands down to clutch his shoulders as you start to roll your hips against his thigh, chasing the pleasure from the friction.

Seungcheol is relentless though as he attacks your neck and chest with his mouth, placing kisses and sucking bruises into every expanse of skin he can.

"Seung-seungcheol, Cheol, please, I need mor—ohh,” you cry out. By now, you were rutting against his thigh, your arousal undeniably having soaked through your thin lace panties, leaving a wet spot on his pants.

Seungcheol keeps his thigh firmly against your cunt, letting you grind, knowing it'd never be enough to fully satisfy you anyhow. Besides, he loves the feeling of your wetness seeping through his pants, loves the way your own thighs wind tighter around his as you chase your high, and absolutely adores the way your hips jolt every time he sucks an extra sensitive part of your skin.

Seungcheol pulls the straps of yiur dress off your shoulder, pulling the dress further down, trying to get access to your breasts, but getting increasingly more frusterated at the excess cloth now bunching up around your waist. Grabbing the silky fabric with both his hands, he tears it in two like it's tissue, tossing it over the side of the bed.

"Been wanting to do that all night," Seungcheol growls before grappling with the next beast, your bra hooks. "Arch your back for me baby," and you're quick to do as he says, arching your back so he can unclasp your bra, taking it off and tossing it away like the dress, leaving you in just your panties.

Seungcheol pauses, taking you in. Wanting to commit every bit of you in this moment to his memory. How swollen your lips are. The crazy mane of hair haloed around your head, splayed against the pillows. The red lovebites scattered all over your neck and chest that are blooming into a deep purple. He watches as your chest rises with the little huffs of your breath, nipples perked in excitement, when your blissed out face slowly morphs into a frown.

Seungcheol tilts his head in concern, "What is it, baby? What's wrong?"

“You're still wearing your clothes,” you pout and Seungcheol lets out a laugh. He brings his hands up to your jaw, holding your head in place as you try to shy away, capturing your lips in a languid kiss.

Seungcheol replaces his lips with his thumb, gently prodding, "Open up sweetheart."

You obey almost instantaneously. You always do.

Seungcheol, presses his thumb into your mouth, tilting your head up by your chin. “Suck,” and you do without hesitation, hungrily sucking at his thumb before he pulls it out with a pop.

He brings his hand down to one of your breasts, brushing his wet thumb tentatively over your nipple.

You let out a shuddering gasp, turned moan, as Seungcheol moves his other hand down as well, fondling your breasts and rubbing circles over your areolas. You can't help but pant as he dips down to capture one of your tits in his mouth, swirling his tongune around your nipple, pinching and twisting the other nub with his fingers.

“Oh god, Cheol,” your voice quivers as you arch your back from the sensations, hands flying up to clutch at his shoulders, moving up them to pull at the little hairs on the nap of his neck.

You wanted more though; you wanted feel more. You wanted to feel him.

First things first though, Seungcheol is far too clothed. As Seungcheol comes up from your breasts, you claw at his belt. He straightens out, leaning so you can reach better. Hands fumbling, you unclip his belt, pulling it out and throwing it aside. Metal clinks aagainst wood as it hits a table leg, but you pay it no mind. Yanking his shirt out from underneath his waistband, Seungcheol silently watches as your fingers finish unbuttoning it. He unrolls his sleeves and undoes his cuffs so he can take it off.

It's slow. It's all to slow. You want it off him now. A whine slips out of you and Seungcheol's eyes crinkle as he smiles, undoing the last cuff. "You're so impatient today, baby." He pulls his shirt off.

You don't even bother responding, instead too busy drooling over the sight of your husband. Broad chest, big shoulders, strong laterals.

Seungcheol starts to unclasp the gold watch on his wrist when you stutter out a “W-wait, don’t.” He pauses, hand still on his watch, and lifts an eyebrow.

“You don’t want me to take it off?” You nod shyly and it takes everything in him not to coo at you. He bites down on his lip, nodding and trying not to smile as he reclips the watch, making sure it’s snug and doesn’t jostle.

Seungcheol climbs off the bed, unbuttoning his suit pants and bending over to pull them down and off. You turn on your side, propping yourself up on one elbow to watch him, eyes roaming down the smooth expanse of his back, all the way down to his phat dump truck of an ass. Tight black boxer briefs stretch across cheeks so round you could bounce a coin off them.

Not that you’d ever admit it, but, if you’re being honest, that ass is half the reason you married Seungcheol.

“Baby, if you keep staring at my ass like that, I'm gonna come before I even make back to bed,” he sends you a cheeky grin before coming to pounce on you, attacking your lips with a hungry kiss. Gone is your soft, patient, cheeky husband from before. This one was insatiable. He kisses you like a man in a drought and you’re the only source of water left on the planet.

You let your hands ghost across Seungcheol's chest as he kisses you. He shivers at the touch of your fingers mapping out every muscle of his abdominals.

He settles back between your legs and you feel the bulge of his cock against your soaked panties, moaning against his mouth as he bucks his hips into yours.

You can't wait any longer. Already, this night has gone on longer than you wanted.

"Seungcheol," you gasp as his bulge grazes deliciously across your clit. You pull at the waistband of his underwear and it snaps against his skin, making him yelp, nipping at your jaw.

"What, baby?" Seungcheol voice is haggard. He's panting just as hard as you, and his pupils are blown full of lust, and love.

You let your hand trail under his waistband, fingers circling around his fully erect cock.

You give him the firmest of strokes.

Seungcheol almost keels over. "Baby," he hisses, "what do you want?"

"You."

There was nothing else you wanted tonight, except to feel him. All of him.

Seungcheol closes his eyes as you thumb over his slit, entire body jerking forward.

"Baby, you always have me, every part of me," Seungcheol grits through his teeth, "But if you keep going like that, I don't think I'm gonna last much longer.

You slip your hand back out, holding them up to Seungcheol, as if to show, look, I'm being a good girl. Now fuck me already. Seungcheol swallows hard.

Next thing you know, he’s tearing your panties off. “Seungcheol!” you squawk. You liked that pair, they’d matched your favourite black bra.

“Baby,” Seungcheol croons as he gently pries your legs further apart. He pulls his cock out, rubbing it against your entrance, letting it coat in all your juices. “I'll buy you a hundred more of those if you want." He pushes just the tip in, "Is that what your want?"

"More," you keened, "Cheol I need more." You drag your lower lip up with your teeth, the stretch of Seungcheol feeling so good.

"More?" Seungcheol pushes further in, slowly letting you adjust to his size, "I'll buy you a thousand more. A million more. Just say the word, baby." You gasp as Seungcheol pushes all the way in to the hilt. He swoops down to kiss you as you tear up a little from the stretch. The sting of his cock fades into a different feeling, one that has pleasure coursing through your veins.

"Can I move, baby?" Seungcheol's voice is sounding a little breathless.

"Please," you beg. Seungcheol begins to move, thrusting at a laborious pace. He has his hands braced on either side of your head and he watches your face, every scrunch of your eyebrows, every bite of your lips, the little gasps that leave your mouth as he picks up the pace.

"Oh, Cheol, right there—"

"God, you feel so good baby—"

"Faster Cheol, please, that feels so good."

Seungcheol brings a hand down to rubs circles on your clit and he almost sees white when you clench around him in reaction. Sounds of your moans laced over Seungcheol's fill the air, mixed with the sound of skin slapping skin.

"Cheol, I'm gonna—"

"Let go for me, baby, come on." And as always, you obey.

You let out a cry as your orgasm ripples through you. Seungcheol does the same as he feels you clench around him, grunting as he thrusts and fills you up with his cum.

Seungcheol waits for you to come down from your high before rolling over and collapsing next to you on the bed. You can feel his cum trickle out of you and down your thigh.

He brings an arm around your waist and pulls you into his chest, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck. "I'll clean you up in a bit baby. Lets just lay like this for a little while."

You hum, too tired to respond.

"I love you baby."

"I love you too Cheol."

2K notes · View notes

megseungmin · 25 days ago

Note

Hey, you know, the young justice show, right? I was wondering if you can make one with like hot bombshell batmom and she visits dick at young justice league's base and like Wally and all the rest of the guys, start flirting on her.

YOUR MOM IS SUCH A MIL- ( batmom )

Summary: You didn't want to attract attention, you just wanted to spend a few minutes with your oldest son.

pairing: Dick grayson x batmom!reader

open request - dick grayson masterlist

There weren't many occasions when you went to visit Dick, the boy still lived in the mansion but perhaps spent a few weeks away busy, since the young Justice was created, and Bruce decided that his protégé was ready to work as a team, the weeks began to feel longer.

So once or twice, when your schedule wasn't jam packed with charity events, Wayne Enterprises meetings, or nights spent patrolling with Bruce, you'd indulged yourself in a quick trip to Mount Justice. Sometimes just to see him for five minutes, to leave him a gift, or other times, like today, with a small, foilwrapped box filled with those coconut cookies Alfred taught you how to make.

What you didn't expect was to cause a little chaos in the group of teenagers as soon as you set foot inside the place.

"Isn't that Mrs. Wayne? Look at her shoes, Z!" you heard someone whisper.

"It can't be his mother, she's not old enough," said another.

"Maybe the league sent her to show us something, I'd like it to be her locker room."

You turned with a friendly smile, letting your dark glasses slide down the end of your nose. "Hey girls, how are you? I'm looking for Robin."

M'gann's eyes widened, dropping the rag she'd been wiping the table with. She'd seen you several times in the magazines she'd bought about the world of entertainment, or on television when there were galas and all the cameras were waiting for Mr. and Mrs. Wayne to arrive. You were definitely more imposing in person. Zatanna giggled nervously. Her friend's mom? She was truly dazzling, and Artemis simply crossed her arms, sizing you up and down with a raised eyebrow, trying to hide her surprise at your arrival.

"I knew it was you!" Zatanna exclaimed, delighted. "Wow... Mrs. Wayne, it's a pleasure."

“And a sight,” Artemis muttered under her breath.

Behind you, a burst of speed announced the arrival of Wally, his hair tousled and his expression ecstatic. "I knew it was your perfume" he said breathlessly, stopping right in front of you. "How are you, Mrs. Wayne?"

You smiled at him with the same warmth you used years ago to serve him hot chocolate in the mansion's kitchen. "Oh, Wally boy, I'm doing great. Thanks for asking. How have you been?"

Wally smiled like he'd won the lottery. "Better now, definitely better now that I see her."

Dick arrived just in time to stop the conversation before it escalated, as always. His gaze flicked from you to Wally and back to you, visibly irritated… and blushing. "Flirting with my mom again? Go away."

Wally threw up his hands as if he were innocent of it all. "Hey! I'm not flirting, I'm being cordial, polite, im appreciating your mom, bro"

"Take your words back, she doesn't want you to like her," Dick muttered, crossing his arms. "Do you realize she's my mom? You son of a b-"

"Boys..." you interrupted, your voice soft, but enough to silence both of them immediately. You walked over to Dick and gently smoothed back a strand of his unruly hair. "Don't fight with your friend over me. I came to visit you, and it's too early for a jealous scene."

"I'm not jealous!" he said, almost indignantly.

"Okay, enough with the drama," Wally came up from the side, his expression pleading. "Can I get a pity cookie?"

"I don't know... Are you going to keep staring and saying things to my mother?" Dick snapped.

"Only the truth."

"Then no."

M'gann appeared at the side of the table, smiling curiously. "What are the cookies made of?"

"It only have coconut and love," you replied, opening the box and showing the perfectly arranged cookies.

Zatanna came over too, intrigued. “Wow. Did you make these?”

"Some of them are mine. Others… Alfred, obviously the best ones are Alfred's."

Wally sniffed from a distance. “Is that… coconut with white chocolate chips?”

Dick squeezed the lid of the box tightly. "Don't even think about it.

"You're cruel," Wally replied, turning to you with an expression that sought mercy. "Could I at least touch the box?"

"Do you want to have both hands?

Wally paused for a second, assessing the threat and still, he reached out. "It's worth the risk."

Dick growled. "Don't touch the box."

But it was too late. You had taken a cookie and offered it to him yourself.

Wally grabbed it like it was an Olympic trophy. "I promise that... well, I don't really promise anything," he said, and brought it to his mouth before Dick could swat it away.

Dick sank into the armchair with a dramatic sigh. "Can we go back to the part where my mom came to visit me and not steal the show?"

"What's your mom's fault she's pretty?" Conner asked before popping a cookie into his mouth, completely ignoring Dick's glare.

That was the last time you visited Mount Justice at Dick's request. He truly loved you, but he preferred you not to go there. From then on, you'd see him at the mansion. Or he'd come looking for you after a mission, but you never returned to the Mount.

But never say never, even though it wasn't common for you to visit the new facilities. In fact, you hadn't done so since your son asked you to years ago.

But this time it was different. It was necessary for you to go there since your husband had asked you to carry classified information and couldn't leave the computer, so you were the only person trustworthy enough available to carry the sensitive file.

Although your clothes were more sober than before, you were still yourself. You liked comfortable clothes that didn't look like you were at home, something elegant that allowed you to feel confident. But even though you made a great effort with your appearance, the common room fell silent as soon as you entered.

"Who... is that?" Bart whispered, stopping mid-comment about video games.

"Oh, Nightwing and Robin's mom"M'gann approached to look at the situation."Hello Mrs. Wayne!"

"Wow, is that their mom?" Jaime asked, his eyes wide.

You just smiled, politely and distantly. Greeting the team was quick, efficient, maternal, yet professional. You handed the sealed envelope to Kaldur, and when you saw Dick appear in the hallway, you gave him the same gentle smile as always.

"I didn't know you were coming," he said to you in a low voice as he approached.

"Bruce didn't have many options available to him," you replied. "So here I am."

"Yes, it shows, Mom."

You spent a few minutes talking with him. Not much. Just enough to catch up. You asked him if he was eating well, if he was sleeping at least five hours, if he was talking to Alfred more often. He pretended to be bothered by the questions, but he didn't take his eyes off you; he had a pending visit at the mansion.

When it was time to leave, you walked back toward the Zeta Tube without rushing. Dick accompanied you for a few meters.

"Thanks for coming," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "I know you don't like being in the middle of all this."

"I don't mind," you said. "I just don't want to inconvenience you."

Dick smiled faintly. "You don't. At least the rest didn't show up."

You stroked his face with your fingers, just like when he was ten. "You have a good team, and you're doing a good job."

Dick blushed, as if he hadn't expected to hear that from you. He looked down and nodded. "I'll call you tomorrow" he promised.

"I hope so." And you were gone, the sound of the Zeta Tube filling the room for a second, and then, nothing. Silence.

Just at that moment, the side door opened.

Wally and Conner entered, carrying bags of food and chatting animatedly. They both stopped when they saw the blue light trail from the portal dissipate.

"Who left?" Conner asked, putting the food on the table.

"Was it... a visitor?" Wally raised his eyebrows, turning to face the group. "Don't tell me your mother finally came!"

Jaime nodded, trying not to laugh. "Three seconds ago. He was here."

Conner turned to Dick. “Was that your mom? She looks… prettier than last time.”

Dick glared at him. “Conner…”

But it was too late.

"Yeah, dude. Your mom's such a milf" Wally said cheerfully, as if he'd just made the most harmless comment in the world.

Dick froze for a second, until he exploded. "WHAT DID YOU SAY!?"

"THAT'S A COMPLIMENT!" Wally shouted, backing away.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" Dick launched himself after him without a second thought.

Wally was already running, but he was laughing. "Say it with pride, bro!"

The shouting moved away through the corridors at an absurd speed.

Conner looked at the rest of the group. "I just said she looked pretty."

Tim sighed. “Can we just agree that no one else talks about our Mother? Thanks.”

“Still… your mom is gorgeous,” Cassie murmured with a smile.

And from the hallway, an angry voice shouted, “DON’T CALL MY MOTHER A MILF!”

3K notes · View notes

megseungmin · 25 days ago

Note

Okay but have you ever thought about jake asking hee for help bc he can't make his gf squirt (like just for the plot okay, we all know he a freak in bed 🤺) and hee agrees to help jake so one day like mid fuck jake and hee just ambush you and hee teaches jake how to do it and idk this is way too specific I need to be institutionalized 😭

🙂‍↕️

warnings. dubcon, jacuzzi jets, Jake not being the best boyfie, Heeseung being nausty, fingering, squirting, etc

—————————

“What about you? Ever squirted?”

“What the fuck Heeseung, who asks that?”

“No, she hasn’t.” Jake quickly intercepts, shooting your eyes wide open.

“Didn’t think so.” His friend smirks, shrugging. “What? We always talk about shit like this.”

No. They always talk about shit like this, even around you despite how uncomfortable it makes you feel. Maybe you’re too much of a pushover for never mentioning it, but you like Jake too much and you’ve only been official for a few months now. His friends are just such creeps, especially Heeseung.

Today was supposed to be a nice hang out for you and your boyfriend only. Of course his best friend had to tag along, disappointing you as you opened the door cheerfully all ready to hop into the jacuzzi alone with him. It’s not every weekend your parents decide to take a little trip and leave you all alone at home. Why did he have to come too?

Jake smiled apologetically, pinching your waist. “Forgot I had made plans with Hee this weekend, don’t be upset.” He whispered while brushing past you. “We brought snacks and drinks.”

Heeseung made zero effort to hide his hungry gaze from roaming over your body, making you wish you’d had some type of warning of his presence before choosing to wear this bathing suit.

The thing is, Jake and Heeseung hadn’t made any actual plans to hang out. Once you mentioned your parents would be out of town, he immediately hit up his best friend with an idea.

After the last time you had hooked up he drove home silently beating himself up. It’s not that he couldn’t fuck you right, but you like foreplay, a lot. To the point of frustration as he tried to feel you up, touch you slowly and draw out your pleasure. He couldn’t make you orgasm without his cock though, not even once.

He thought about telling the guys, asking for advice, but they’d probably just roast him in the group chat. The only one he could possibly trust with this is Heeseung, everyone knows his reputation, he’s never been shy about it.

‘I want to give her the best fucking orgasm of her life, like she cannot forget that I’m the guy that did that.’ Jake whined to him on the phone.

‘Ah, that’s why you came to me.’ His friend had boasted and laughed.

‘Yeah yeah, just fucking help me dude. I get it, porn isn’t realistic but I need her gushing like porn star.’

‘I got you man, but there’s really only one way I can teach you.’

Was it a good solid plan? Absolutely not. But Jake wouldn’t assume his best friend could have any ulterior motives. Why would he worry about any of his friends wanting to fuck his girlfriend? It’s not as if they don’t mention it in their group chat nearly every week.

“I bet you have a lot of fun in this hot tub.” Heeseung says snarkily, massaging his sore back muscles against a couple of jets. “It’s strong as fuck.”

Ignoring him, you scoot closer to your boyfriend and grab onto his thigh. “What movie do you want to watch later?” Jake eyes Heeseung wearily, nervously tucking in his bottom lip and shrugging.

“I have an idea.”

Gritting your teeth, you glare at Heeseung sitting across from you. Forcing a small smile with raised eyebrows. “What is it?”

Heeseung pushes off the jacuzzi wall and floats closer until he’s sat before you and Jake. Sinking the lower half of his face under the bubbles filling up the tub, he arches an eyebrow at you. “Which one of these jets do you put your pussy on?”

“Excuse me?!”

“Hee, man.” Jake laughs nervously, shoving his friend's shoulder.

“What dude? We don’t have time for this shit. My dicks already hard.”

“What are you even talking about?!” You shriek, shoving a foot at his stomach. Heeseung grabs a hold of your ankle before you can successfully kick him, moving to dig his thumbs into the sole of your foot.

“You know what the fuck I’m talking about.” Sitting up in the tub, his chest drips, turning pink from the hot water. “Is it this one?” He reaches behind you, lowering himself much too close to your chest. “How do you do it?”

“I-I don’t.”

Jake lets out a stiff laugh, wrapping a hand around your thigh to pull your floating body closer to his side. “Babe, don’t lie. You told me..”

“Jake!”

Heeseung shoves two digits inside of the jet behind you, letting out a low groan. “Fuck I bet that feels so good on your pussy. Probably begged your parents to get stronger jets installed just so you could rub your little cunt all over it.”

“She did.” Jake adds, biting down on his tongue and slapping your thigh. “Come on, tell him all about how you made up that shit about your swim coach recommending it.”

Overwhelmed by the both of them crowding you, you push back against the tub. Inadvertently allowing for Heeseung to trap you right in front of three jets. “Come on, I’m trying to help my boy Jake out here. Do you even know how bad you made him feel the other night?”

“W-what?”

“No no it’s not like that babe.” Jake sits up, running wet hands through his hair with eyes full of concern. “I just wanna satisfy you..”

“That’s why I’m here.” Heeseung laughs, grabbing a hold on your hips. “Now rub your cunt all cute on those jets, I wanna see if you can cum from that.”

The nerve of him to speak to you so brazenly, you’d put up a fight if not for the pathetic pleading look on your boyfriend's face. He can’t seriously expect you to be okay with this? “Come on baby, do it for us.” Pointing from himself to you almost crushes you, settling back with your chest bent forward. You nod and look away from him, positioning yourself as you have in the past while alone.

“She listens real good.” Heeseung says cockily, grabbing a hold on your chin. “Don’t mind me, fuck yourself exactly how you like.”

Already humiliated enough, you peer up at Heeseung and Jake standing in the tub watching you. Both full of thirst and intrigue as you the water around you begins to splash and you grab onto the sides of the hot tub for better leverage. The hot pressure against your covered core sets off tingles through your limbs, building up a sweat on your upper lip.

It’s different when you’re alone, less focused on the fact that two pairs of eyes are on you. The same thoughtless experience begins to take over nonetheless, rolling your lower half back against the jets. Clenching down on your teeth to keep in your pleasured cries.

“Hot.” Heeseung’s voice rumbles above you, nudging against Jake’s side. “This is already getting her worked up, she likes it. She likes being degraded like this, I can tell.”

Jake nods without adding extra commentary, reaching under the water to wrap the soaked material of his swim trunks around his hardening length. His mouth hangs open when you toss back your head, bathing suit riding up your ass.

“C’mere.” Heeseung sinks into the water, circling your waist. Using minimal strength to lift your body out of the jacuzzi, he perches you on the ledge. Snatching you away from the jets on the brink of your release. “She’s close.” He mutters to his friend looking on, quickly gathering your bottoms and pulling them to one side. “Fuck, does she always get this wet?”

Jake gulps, moving close to your side for a better view. He hates to admit you don’t always.

“Didn’t think so,” Heeseung grins without getting an answer other than the apprehensive look on his friend’s face. “Lay back, I’m about to show your boyfriend how it’s done.”

Shoving you to lay flat on the ground surrounding the hot tub, he gets into position between your thighs. Keeping one of your legs straight and pushing your other up high with his hand cupped behind your knee. “Pay attention Jakey.”

Heeseung’s palm smooths down your core, spreading out the wet slick caught between your folds. Gritting his jaw, he stretches his fingers between your slit. Pushing out loud wet noises as he glides them up and down, slapping your clit lightly. “She’s all warmed up.”

The way he talks about you really makes heat churn through your stomach. Clenching your fists at your sides and shutting your eyes. Jake’s calming touch finds you right as you’re ready to curse him out, soothing his rolling thumb along your hip. “You’re doing so good baby, you look so fucking good too..”

Heeseung’s fingers begin to stroke your clit with more purpose. Pressing down harder until your bundle of nerves ache, throbbing under his menacing touch. “She’s so fucking wet.” He mumbles, lowering them down to your entrance. “Dripping.”

“Yeah.” Jake says exasperatedly, licking at his lips to the point of burning from sucking up all of their natural moisture. “This is driving me crazy.”

A quiet moan passes from your lips, a tiny little uhhn, barely audible. But Heeseung catches it, greedily applying pressure against your hole until it reacts and sucks around the tips of his digits. Screaming at him to enter, to finger you open, to fill your cunt with something, anything.

“So needy for it.” He says throatily, holding back his excitement at your body's reactions. “Don’t hold back, alright?”

Hold back wha—oh fuck!

His digits pass your opening, not bothering to slowly enter your cunt. He strokes through your pulsing walls at a fast pace. Building up your initial release all the same with his teasing leading up to this, he scissors between your clenched tight pussy, continuing to jackhammer his digits in past your resistance.

“God dammit Jake, grab her.” Heeseung grunts. Clapping his free hand down on your inner thigh roughly. Hard enough to echo the sound of skin against skin throughout your backyard.

Rushing out of the hot tub, your boyfriend siddles up behind you. Scooping under your arms to pull your back to his chest.

“N-no!” You squeal as Heeseung starts rolling his fingertips flat against your swollen clit once more. “G-gonna pee!”

“It’s not pee.” Heeseung says huskily, jerking his arm with extra force to jab his fingers in even deeper. “Let go!”

“Come on baby,” Jake kisses along the side of your face. Squeezing you to his chest with his gaze laser focused on his best friend’s fingers pumping in and out of you. The wet squelch emitting out signifying how close you are. “Relax, let it go.”

“N-no!” Your hips jump up against the weight of Heeseung’s upper body attempting to keep you pressed down to the ground. Curling his fingers up to a spot deep inside of you and pressing in hard.

“Oh, that’s it! That’s it isn’t it.” He practically drools. Dark eyes meeting yours and lapping at his lips hungrily. “It’s coming, can feel you gripped around me so fucking hot.”

“You can do it baby.” Jake huffs, biting down on your earlobe. The two of them driving you crazy, out of breath, dizzy with pleasure. It peaks and breaks the loudest whine from your chest, only held down by the both of them keeping you stable. A rush of stream bursts out around Heeseung’s fingers, lifting your butt up from the ground.

“Fuck fuck,” ripping his fingers free, he pushes against your lower stomach. Slapping his wet digits against your dripping core to encourage more of your release. Greedily lapping at the shots of slick that jump up high enough for his tongue to catch. “Knew you could do it.” He hums proudly, sinking down into the jacuzzi to shove your thighs open and watch your hole pulse rapidly. “Jake, get down here before I lick her clean.”

The jump your hips give at that makes Heeseung chuckle. Laying a firm kiss to your inner thigh. “We have all weekend for that.”

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