#I had two days of BLISS and opportunity

[dayz-ina-daze]

My computer might be fucked. Entirely.

Awesome.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #61] Jinxing It

warnings: (1) mention of toe socks, chess talk, showers, a lil bit of titty luvin, lots of kisses, oral (f&m), fingering, ass play (m), whimpery koo <3, a lil cum swapping, the starluvrs are v cute!!! lots of lil clues and hints about upcoming chapters!!

a/n: there's an authors note over on a03 so I'll you spare you my nonsense! but hi, welcome back!! sorry for the wait on this one <33 if you're only just discovering bd, hello---this is part of an on-going story and includes an established relationship, to be read in context with the rest of the story, it's not a oneshot ^^. for kofi subs, there'll be a BD 62 teaser in a few hours!

wc: 13.7K

bd total wc: 560k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Life dissolves with Jeongguk. Days merge into one. 

Like a tablet in water, or stardust into the atmosphere, time melts.

So does Jeongguk, though. He sinks into the bliss with you. Crumbles. Collapses. You’d go as far to say he turns into a supernova, like stars often do when they collapse. 

He lets himself merge into a shared identity that he’s certain isn’t normal of such a fledgling relationship.

Two weeks from the auction, and days have rolled on by without much fuss. Deals have been finalised on winning bids, and Jeongguk’s had meetings with realtors, Yoongi by his side every step of the way. Everything has happened without much thought. Life has just been accepted; new plans and opportunities integrated into the trajectory you’re on. No meteors to throw you off course nor cosmic calamities to falter your future.

Your name is on the interview list for Shinwon’s position, and Jeongguk’s due to be accepting the keys for the building tomorrow. Everything is as it should be.

It’s terrifying, in a way. 

You spent so long fearing the rug being swept from beneath your feet, but with Jeongguk’s help, carpets have been laid. They’re not budging.

And nor is he as he sits across from you, legs crossed, his chessboard keeping you apart. It’s a rarity to be on his bed not wrapped up in one another—but he’s almost as serious about chess as he is about you. Almost .

“You know what to do,” he grins, adamant that his crash course in the game was easy to follow. In reality, he’d moved a few pieces, said a few words, and promised with a smile that you’d be able to beat him. 

His belief in you is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You’ve not made a single move without his gentle encouragement, most times resulting in you giving the match up on a silver platter. 

The correct terminology evades you, and so do the rules. An app sits on your phone unused, a subscription running up a small fortune from a membership never used. It was set up back in the early days of knowing Jeongguk. You swore one day you’d be able to beat him—but life got busy, and quite frankly, chess is not your chosen way to unwind.

But spending time with Jeongguk is, and so you’ll take him in any capacity you can have him.

“Which one should I move?” You pout, utterly transfixed on the chess pieces. There’s a bewildered panic to your expression, brows furrowed over your glittery eyes, hand hovering to and fro over your side of the board.

You single in on the bishop. Look his way with hopeful, wide eyes. He shakes his head.

“Diagonals only,” he reminds you of how bishops move, at which point you realise it’s blocked in by pawns. Your hand moves to one of them, and he shrugs. “I mean… you can .”

“But should I?”

“You wanna capture the king,” he says, reaching across to dictate your movements. He secures your grip on the pawn, and gently pushes it up a single square to free the bishop’s pathway. “Shift this one up, just one space. Clear the diagonal if you want to move the bishop.”

You do as he says, putting the pawn back in its original position so that you can be the one to place it. Slowly, you repeat his instructions, pushing the pawn up the board while Jeongguk nods. 

And then he grins in such a way that you just know you're about to curse him out.

He lifts his strategically placed knight. Knocks your freshly moved pawn. Claims the tile as his own.

“Rule number one,” He smirks, lip ring flipping in the corner of his pretty little mouth. “Never trust your opponent.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” you whine, looking at him with a faux sense of hurt and a very believable pout. “You’re my boyfriend . You’re supposed to help .”

“No moaning,” he dismisses your stropping, knowing he’s lost brownie points for his deception. He also knows he’ll earn your favour back soon enough, so whatever. “Now, what's your next move, baby? Go on.”

You study the board, and assess how different the opposing sides look. 

This time, he’s going easy on you. Kind of. You’ve almost exclusively been guided by him for the last half an hour, over a string of short games, all of which have ended with your very quick and immediate defeat. 

Jeongguk is too competitive for his own good. Jimin never wants to play against him, ‘cause he knows he’ll lose, too.

This is an indulgence for Jeongguk. He ought not to waste the opportunity—or worse yet, convince you never to play against him again.

He likes the idea of chess being an heirloom; the kind of skill he’ll teach his kids in the future. It’s integral to the very depths of his brain—how he works, and how his logical mind can jump and switch sometimes at the flick of a button—yet he rarely shares it with anyone else.

It’s only apt that you’d get an all-access pass.

Hovering over your now-free bishop, you narrow your eyes as you glance towards him. 

He nods. 

And so you move a pawn instead.

“I don’t trust you,” you tell him, because he told you not to. In a way, you are trusting him—just trusting that he’s a bullshitter. 

What you don’t realise is that you’ve just moved the very pawn that’s been protecting your King, and preventing Jeongguk from getting an easy win.

“B,” he sighs, looking helplessly at the move you just made. 

He couldn’t love you any more if he tried, but— fuck —he’ll never understand your brain.

“What?!”

He picks up his queen. Places it diagonally across from your exposed King. There’s nowhere for your King to go, other than in the direct line of his queen. He’s gone and fuckin’ done it again.

Check. 

Mate .

Groaning, you realise what's happening and flop down onto your back. Your brain is fried. There's no way Jeongguk actually enjoys this. 

"Not again," you whine, pretending to sob a little as you look up at Jeongguk's ceiling. It's without birds these days, but there are a few rogue strips of tape that remind you of your history within these four walls.

"B," Jeongguk laughs, clambering around the board to flop down with you. His arm rests over your tummy as his face aligns with yours. Might not have any birds above you, but the way you melt into his touch is just as deadly as it was the first time. You'll scorch a hole through his sheets with even the most innocent of encounters. His lips are a little pouty, smirk prevailing as he teases, "What did I tell you, huh? Protect your king."

"I tried!" You insist, your over-dramatic, distressed expression far too cute for him to care about playing anymore. He enjoys chess, but he enjoys you more.

"You left him wide open for me to take!"

"You could have gone easy on me!"

"I was!" He defends with a laugh, adamant that he could have taken you out in, like, two moves if he really wanted. "I swear you didn't listen to a single thing I told you—"

"I did! Listening to you is how you got that stupid pawn in the first place," you huff, putting your hand against the bottom of his throat to stop him from getting any closer. He doesn't deserve niceties in times like this.

He'd argue that the feeling of your sharp nails against his throat is incredibly nice.

He ignores your moaning. "I'll make you a deal."

"Go on."

"Strip chess."

"Pervert."

"For every move you make, I'll take an item of clothing off," he suggests with a glint in those starry eyes of his, ignoring your remark.

You assess the situation. Mentally make a checklist of his clothes. Sweats, a shirt, a (toe)sock on either foot, and underwear — that's only five moves, but then again, Jeongguk normally has your king trapped by that point.

"I think you're just trying to get me naked."

"I'm always trying to get you naked, B," he shrugs into his sheets, before tearing himself away and getting back into position on the opposite side of the board. "So are you gonna make it a challenge or not?"

"What happens if I take out one of your pieces?"

"If you do that," he hums, as if he's contemplating it. "I'll let you do that goddamn paper plane you wanna try out so bad."

Instantly, you sit up, like a puppy with a treat being teased in front of its snout. Your eyes are wide, smile incredulous. 

It's been a while since Jeongguk made those paper planes in your bedroom. Only one has ever been done, and quite frankly, you think it might have been the catalyst to your friendship's demise, because how you could ever go back to 'just friends' afterwards was beyond you. 

It's not like you didn't try to remain totally neutral about cock warming with him, but the way your heart swells whenever you do it now just goes to show how your bodies were made for one another. Like a turning of tides, or the cyclical rising and falling of the sun to make way for the moon, it's just as nature intended. He was made for you, and you him.

With a glint in your eye, you lean over to the chess board and swipe up one of his pawns at random. With a gasp, and a smile twitching at your lips, you exclaim, "Oh look! I won!"

"B," he laughs, but your expression remains entirely serious despite the light nature of it all.

"Lemme fuck your ass," You grin now, pleading ever so softly. "A deal is a deal."

"You didn't win."

"Says who?"

"Anyone who has ever played chess?"

"I've played, and I think I won. C'mon," you grin, positioning yourself on his lap. The chess piece is still in your hands as you lean down to nudge your nose up against his. "Face down, ass up for me, baby."

"You're in my way," he says.

"You could throw me across the room if you wanted to. I'm not stopping you."

"And I'm not throwing you across the room."

"Please," you pathetically beg.

"You really it want it, don't you?" He grins against your lips. "Huh?"

"Just wanna make you feel good."

"You always make me feel good," Jeongguk whispers, quietly deflecting the real reason why he hasn't let you do it yet. 

Truth be told, Jeongguk is a little scared. 

While yes, he's always been curious about pegging, he's never taken it that far before. Has never had the tools, shall we say, to explore by himself, and none of his exes or flings ever seemed too interested in it.

He wants it. Wants it with you. Just doesn't know how he'll react. Doesn't know what his body will do. Worries that things will take a turn for the worse and that you'll be so repulsed by him that you'll never want to have sex with him again, or that maybe he'll like it too much and that it'll be all he ever wants and it'd ruin just how good things are at the moment. 

His thoughts distract him as your lips press feathery kisses against the thick column of his neck. Something about you, and how delicate you can be, just makes him melt into your touch. His hands come to clutch your hair, a pretty little smile forming on his lips. 

"You don't have to do this," he quietly says, nails lightly scratching at your scalp. Your lips graze against his skin, before he gently pulls you back by the root of your hair. The sensation makes you want him even more than you already do. There's a love-drunk look of lust to your darling eyes, all glittery like they so often are as you look at him. 

Reaching to cup his jaw, you marvel at how a man who looks like him can be as tender as he is. The world would give him permission to break hearts, if he wanted it, but he doesn't. All he seems to want is to adore, and be adored in return—and how lucky you are to be on the receiving end of it.

A slight guilt settles in your stomach. You know he'd give you the world if you asked for it, but he isn't giving you this. 

"I'm only teasing," you tell him, which isn't strictly true. You do wanna do it, but your incessant begging is what you're joking about. It's not like you'll die if you can't fuck his ass (maybe). "I'll respectfully stay out of your ass unless requested otherwise."

He shakes his head. Laughs. Kisses you, 'cause he just can't help himself, then pulls you down into the sheets with him. "I give it a day until you're asking again."

Secretly, he wants you to ask again. It doesn't feel like pressure. Feels like validation; as if you want this even more than he does.

The thing is, you can't say no to a challenge. "Wanna bet?"

No. 

But he can't resist either. "You're on."

Yoongi stands with his shoulders pressed to glass front door, keys looped on his fingers. The streets in this area are always quiet until the evening, minor hustle and bustle from delivery drivers dropping off stock to businesses down the alley disturbing the peace. 

A small hotteok stall sits lopsided, supported by the building's exterior wall, red tarpaulin covering it from the weather and any inquisitive eyes. An elderly man runs it during the weekends, but for the rest of the week, it sits derelict. It's an eyesore, to say the least. Not the kind of thing that screams 'hot new restaurant' to anyone walking by.

It's as Yoongi's contemplating how to solve this problem, figuring the stallhand probably had an agreement with the previous owners, when Jeongguk comes into his line of vision. He tweaks a brow in Jeongguk's direction, almost as if to ask: what time do you call this?

Jeongguk's right on time. It's not a minute past twelve, which is exactly the time Yoongi told him to arrive. 

Sale finalised, paperwork complete, Yoongi got given the keys this morning. It's a done deal. The building is his, and in turn, the restaurant is Jeongguk’s. 

Despite his nonchalance, when Yoongi sees Jeongguk grin, he can't help but smile too.

"Shut up," Yoongi tells him. "We're serious businessmen. Don't get giggly with me."

"I'm not!" Jeongguk laughs, hands up in defence, until Yoongi puts his own hand out for Jeongguk to shake. Naturally, Jeongguk uses Yoongi's hand to pull him in for a hug instead. Patting his back, Jeongguk is almost fighting the urge to cry. He's waited so long for this. Worked so hard. Doesn't think any of it would be possible without Yoongi, but Yoongi would disagree.

"You better make the best fuckin' samgyeopsal this city has ever seen," Yoongi threatens with all the love in the world, breaking from the hug. Passing over the keys, he nods towards the doors. "Do us the honours."

Yoongi is fatherly in the way he never takes the glory for himself. Will be the kind of dad to build a lego castle and let his kid put the flag in place at the end of his labour. 

Jeongguk doesn't mention it, but he's noticed the way Seoyeon has been the designated driver for the past few weeks; how she didn't drink at auction, and how Yoongi's been even more attentive than he usually is. 

Could be nothing at all. Could just be a change in the weather.

But it could mean everything, and Jeongguk knows better than to intrude before being welcomed in on the news. 

Pushing the key into the lock, Jeongguk is quietly enamoured with the fact the premises has a lock and key instead of the typical keypad locks that are usually in place. The metal grates against itself as he twists the lock open, and pushes the door open. 

There's a separate side entrance for access to the upper floors. 

The floors Jeongguk intends to be the restaurant already have a connecting staircase towards the back of the room, which will make it infinitely easier for staying out of Yoongi's hair whenever he's in the workshop.

In the light of day, the furniture from the previous owners now removed, it's so much easier for Jeongguk to envisage how everything will look; where the signage will hang, where the bar will go, and, most importantly, where the disco balls will hang.

"It's really happening," he exhales, as if he hadn't realised it at any earlier stage in the process.

Yoongi doesn't berate him. Instead, he takes a deep breath, too. Nods. "It's really happening."

Though he smiles, Jeongguk wishes he had a hand to hold as tightly as his lips press together. Wishes you were here. Knows you're busy with work, making up hours to account for the fact you'll have some time off at the end of the week for your interview at the Ryu.

Why you need an interview is beyond him. He thinks they're being ridiculous. Thinks that even entertaining the idea of hiring someone else is an insult. Got so wound up about it, ranting to Jimin while he was making dinner, that he burned his sauce a couple of nights ago. Is now on a talking while cooking ban. Jimin says Jeongguk can't be trusted to multitask. Jeongguk says Jimin is a little prick.

The day is lost to making plans; sketches drawn up on Jeongguk's ipad, discussions with Yoongi about how to go about getting liscences for the premises, and back and forth over what should be done with the top two floors.

The idea of Taehyung using the fourth floor as a studio is considered, but both of them know how much he adores his current place. 

"Think he'd live there, if he could," Yoongi muses picking up a slice of napjak mandu with his chopsticks, dipping it into the tteokbokki sauce. They'd ordered from the place near his current workshop, and it makes him lament the idea of leaving it behind. 

Perhaps he can keep them both. Use the smaller space as his own little sanctuary, and the third floor here as his public-facing premises. Might be a bit of a waste, but if he can afford the rent, then why not?

"Tell you what," Yoongi hums as he swallows down his food. "If you don't add something like this to the menu, I'm kicking you out."

"I'll put it on the secret menu," Jeongguk offers, knowing that it definitely won't be what he offers to punters. He makes a mean tteokbokki, but it doesn't fit the vision of what he wants for this place. "Well, what about Jimin? He could start up his own interior place, if he wants. He's got the money for it, and I know the office he's in at the moment has been stifling him. Lost out on, like, three big commissions in the last quarter because the boss went with some other prick's ideas. Jimin's wasted there."

Yoongi hums in agreement as he swallows down his food. "We could always get him to help out with the design of this place. I reckon he knows all the tricks for good energy."

Nodding, Jeongguk laughs. Picks up another rice cake and chows down on it as he adds, "Should have seen him when we moved into our current place. Man had a compass out to align a sofa with the right energy."

"Sounds about right," Yoongi grins, resting his chopsticks back down against the edge of the bowl. "Well, what about your missus, then? Would she want gallery space? Somewhere for curation?"

Jeongguk chokes on his rice cake, and it's not because of the spice. 

"She's not my missus—" he corrects, but then decides he doesn't want to "—at least, not yet. And she's got a big interview with The Ryu this week. I'm not sure opening her own gallery is on her agenda, but I can put the feelers out—and like… I don't know. Wouldn't it be a bit much? We spend so much time together, already. She'd get sick of me if I was working two floors below."

"Would you get sick of her?"

"Don't be stupid. No."

"Exactly," Yoongi says as if it's obvious—which, in all fairness, he thinks it is. "The pair of you are in a perpetual honeymoon phase."

Jeongguk shakes his head, as if he isn't beaming. "Shut up. Just got a good thing going—and hey, you're hardly one to talk. How's Seoyeon?"

"Good, yeah," Yoongi nods, but doesn't divulge any further. As much as Jeongguk is dying to ask, he holds back. "She wants you all round for dinner soon, so expect an invite in the group chat."

"For any reason?" Jeongguk baits Yoongi, cause he just can't help himself.

Unlucky for him, Yoongi is as stoic as can be. "You know Seo. She loves any excuse for a dinner party. Has started making her own pasta and I think she wants tasters."

"B makes a mean pasta," Jeongguk says, because his thoughts so often wind back to you, and he just can't help himself. "I'm sure she'll be buzzing to try Seoyeons."

A sense of pride washes over Yoongi's features. "Gah, when did you grow up, Jeongguk? Practically married, aren't you?"

Dismissive in how he shakes his head, Jeongguk can't help but let a bashful smile grow on his face. The soft lights overhead glimmer down him, putting those stars Jeongguk adores so much right back in his eyes. He'll never get rid of you. Will eternally carry the evidence of how utterly smitten he is.

Should you ever leave him, Jeongguk thinks he'd simply die of a broken heart. Wouldn't know how to walk if it weren't in the direction of you. Would stumble and fall until he inevitably wound up back at your door like a wounded puppy.

So perahps Yoongi is right. Maybe it would make sense to offer you the space—but you've got your own agenda. Your own dreams. Jeongguk can't just entrap you in his.

The thing is, once your shift is up, and you're heading to the restaurant premises to see Jeongguk, you can't help but feel like this is a dream come true for you. 

His ambition and drive have rubbed off on you; encouraged you up a career path you once thought was overgrown with thorns and rubble. Has shown you that all you need is a little bit of elbow grease and a pair of secateurs to go after what you want. 

It's dark by the time you arrive. Lights from the other establishments flood the streets, but the blinds are closed on the restaurant for a little privacy. A handwritten 'under new management' sign is taped to the front door in Jeongguk's signature penstroke. A little smiley face accents it; a show of how he feels, you presume. 

Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you dial through to him, 'cause you've no idea how to get in, nor if he's even actually there. The building is just on the way home from the art cafe, and you'd left Jeongguk's place that morning to a very smiley boyfriend instead of his usual 'don't go' pout, so you figure he's spent all day busy with exciting plans.

"Sorry, not interested," Jeongguk's voice purrs through the speaker, as if you're some kind of cold-calling saleswoman with nothing half-decent to offer him. 

"What if I told you I'm outside the restaurant and that I'm naked under my clothes?"

"Aren't we all naked under our clothes?"

"Just open the door," you grin down the phone as he comes into view through the glass doors. 

He's got the kind of look on his face that you'd expect: pouty lips with heavy-lidded eyes. Softening ever so slightly when he notices the bunch of wildflowers poking out from the tote bag you've got hooked over your shoulder, his eyes are incapable of ever hiding his true feelings. 

Mild confusion ( did someone get you flowers?) dismissed with easy understanding—they're from the stall he always buys you flowers from, so he knows you got them yourself.

It's very conflicting to adore you and to also want to fuck you into next Tuesday, but it garners you a gaze nobody else is ever lucky enough to receive from him. You cherish it. Think about it near-constantly whenever he's not by your side.

"You're a terrible saleswoman," he scolds so softly it feels like praise.

"And yet here you are, answering the door for me," you shrug with a knowing smile, sure that'd he take whatever you sold him. Would buy sand, water, air from you. Would let you swindle him. 

"And yet here I am."

Hanging up, you mouth 'open it' through the door, and he does as he's told—kind of.

Blocking the now half-open door, he childishly asks, "What's the password?"

"I love you?"

"Ew. Gross. Get a room. No."

"Fuck you.”

"Not the password either, but I'm more than willing."

"Ew. Gross," you imitate him, gagging a little for an extra immaturity. "Hmm… Byeol is the best?"

"Ddaeng."

"Jimin sucks?"

"Ddaeng… but I approve. Good guess."

"Gimme a hint."

"It's the name of the restaurant."

The confidence that comes with the restaurant being his now is nothing short of a miracle. He's so certain of everything these days, in a way he never was before—but why shouldn't he? He got the girl. Got the dream. There's nothing he can't do. Statistically, he's two for two. A winner by all counts. A gold medalist in his very own Olympics.

"You've never told me what you want to name it!" You protest with a whine, thinking he's being entirely unfair.

It's not like you haven't asked a million times over. He's just been keeping it underwraps. Was scared that speaking it into existence would jinx it. Would refuse with a coy grin, and assurance that he'd reveal it soon enough.

Truth be told, Jeongguk's gone back and forth over names. It's probably changed ten times since he's known you, but then you said something at the fundraising auction, and everything sort of clicked into place. 

A name was coined and it wouldn't stop embossing itself into Jeongguk's dreams; the branding, the signage, everything. A new vision of what he wanted spawned like lava onto a mountainside. You sparked a volcano he didn't even realise existed, and it's solidified into molten rock. 

"I'll cut you a deal," you offer, knowing that you'll never get it and he'll never ease. Shrugging your shoulder to gesture towards the bag, you begin your enticement. "I've got cold beer and hot burgers from that place you like down the road. They're all yours in you let me in—if not, I'm going home and Danbi will—"

"Say no more," Jeongguk pushes the door open and grabs your hand, pulling you into the vacant restaurant with him. The door clicks close behind you, and Jeongguk spins you around so that you're stood infront of him, facing the large room. Arms wrapping around your waist, Jeongguk rests his chin on your shoulder, gently pressing a kiss to your neck. "Welcome in."

It's a lot to take in all at once. The room stands empty, save for the camping chairs and table Yoongi and Jeongguk had coversed around earlier, Jeongguk's ipad resting on the table with a low battery warning on the dimly lit screen. There's paperwork scattered on the surface—old utilities letters that they were using to sort out the new bills—and a bag of trash tied up on the floor from their lunch.

"I don't smell burgers," Jeongguk mumbles against your neck.

"I was lying."

"You've no shame."

Turning your head, you let him raise his nose to yours, a feathery kiss greeting your lips. 

Whenever your doe-eyed boy greets you like this, you always feel a bit like snow white; as if a dozen tiny creatures will flock to you and bestow their love upon you.

It'd be fruitless, mind you, for none of them could even come close to how deeply Jeongguk adores you. He'd sit in the corner, jealous and bratty as they fawned over you. Would hate not being the object of your affection. Would strop until your focus was back on him.

"I'll order some," you promise, but Jeongguk shakes his head. 

"Won't be here much longer. We can pick some up on the way home."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, baby," he tenderly whispers, punctuating himself with a slightly firmer kiss, before pulling away from you. Walking into the middle of the room, he holds out his arms. Grins. "Welcome."

"It's a pleasure," you grin, freely stepping into the space now, looking around with awestruck eyes knowing that this is his . "Holy shit, Gguk."

"Yeah," he agrees with your sentiment. "Mad, innit?"

"Just a little."

When you think back to the Jeongguk you first met—the one who spent hours upon hours studying for his exams, all the while working at the bar of an admittedly shitty club—you can't help but feel overwhelmed with pride. He worked himself to the bone for his dreams. 

The space is large enough for Jeongguk to go wild with it. There's no end to his possibilities. He's got an arsenal of weapons in his back pocket in the form of his friends—Yoongi can fit the place out, Jimin can help with the design work, Taehyung can make a central art piece, and Namjoon can get it featured in the paper. Of course, he won't take advantage of his access to them, but knowing how willing his friends always are to help out, it's kind of like a no-brainer. He's got all the tools needed for success.

"And right here," he points up, standing in the middle of a square marked out with tape on the floor. It's large and in the centre of the room—the intended space for a central bar and banchan preparation spot, flipping the conventions of traditional barbecue places on their heads. Wants the food to quite literally be at the heart of the restaurant. "Is where the disco balls will be."

For a second, you think you miss-hear him, but the way his smiles grows when confronted with your confusion only proves you heard perfectly fine.

Sitting on one of the camping chairs Yoongi and Jeongguk had set up earlier, you've been watching him talk you through his vision for the place. It sounds incredible—just like him, but in restaurant version. 

"Is that not a health and safety hazard?" You giggle, desperate to get up and stand with him, but feeling the need to maintain distance. He's having his moment. He doesn't need a shared stage—and yet here he is, announcing that the very embodiment of you will be centre stage for the foreseeable. 

Jeongguk shrugs. "Haven't thought that far ahead. There's gonna be disco balls here whether they like it or not, though."

Realistically, if the health and safety inspectors tell him no disco balls, there'll be no disco balls—but he won't be happy about it. Will be pouty. You both know he's just being facetious, and that he'll comply with whatever is asked of him. 

"It's my restaurant, baby," he reminds you, holding out his hands, cause he wants you closer. Naturally, you do ass requested, and join him in his square. His arm slips around your waist, a kiss firmly being pressed to your forehead before your chin leans on his chest. Looking up at him, it's a wonder that you're able to have conversations that last more than a single back and forth. A miracle, even. "I can do what I want."

There's something so incredibly sexy about this cocksure arrogance. He's not the same guy you met back in the confines of Dionysus, and while you adored him back then, you adore him even more now.

"You're sexy when you talk business," you hum, as his hand dip a little further south to squeeze your ass. "Home?"

He nods, a pretty smile hanging off his lips. "Mine or yours?"

"Yours is closer," you tell him, pulling away, linking your fingers with his as you do so, dragging him with you. Hooking your bag up over your shoulder, you're reminded of the flowers. "Oh—these are for you, by the way."

Passing them over, you're not surprised by his confusion.

"For me?"

The bunch of wildflowers looked pretty big in your hands, but remarkably small in his. You have to make a considered effort to not groan. 

"Mhmm," you nod with a sweet smile. "A congratulations."

Jeongguk's head pushes back a little into his neck, shoulders broadening as his smile forms. He quickly tilts his head to the side and then back again in the way he often does whenever his brain is processing something new. 

"Never had flowers before."

"Nice, isn't it?" You grin, knowing that nothing beats fresh flowers when it comes to small pockets of expressed admiration. 

With a bashful nod, Jeongguk feels like he should feel emasculated, but can't quite work out the way he actually does feel. All he knows is that he likes it. And that he wants to get home. And that he wants you in his bed. Naked, preferably. 

His thoughts dart back and forth to the last time you were in his room. Gets him hot. Blushing. 

Thankfully, you don't seem to notice—or if you do, you don't mention it. Why would you? It's cute. 

"What time is your interview tomorrow?" Jeongguk asks as he makes sure the door is locked behind you both. 

"One in the afternoon," you reply with a certain nonchalance, as if you're unphased, which Jeongguk knows is absolute bullshit. "Hobes said he'll work my shift if I buy him a month's supply of Sprite, so I've got, like, 48 cans arriving tomorrow."

He would have done it for free, but he's a tough bargainer and you're just an easy sell when it comes to making the people you care about happy.

"His blood will turn into sprite," Jeongguk laughs, linking his hand with yours once more as you head down the road to the nearest subway entrance. "How are you feeling about it? We can practise interview questions later, if you like."

Shaking your head, you smile. "It'll just make me nervous, and at the moment, I'm pretty calm about things. Thank you, though."

"Well, if you change your mind," Jeongguk reinforces the offer, before you redirect the conversation and get him babbling about the restaurant—projected timelines, contractors, suppliers. There's so much to do, and yet it doesn't feel overwhelming in the slightest. Not yet, at least.

With a pit stop at the burger place as promised, the journey home is effortless. Intrinsic by this point. 

Shoes off by the door, Jimin is out for a company dinner, so it's just the pair of you.

"Has he spoken with you about Nabi, yet?" You ask as you grab some condiments from the kitchen, while Jeongguk fills a vase with water.

"God, no," Jeongguk laughs. "He used to tease me all the time about you, but now he can't even look me in the eyes 'cause he's worried I'll ask about it. Idiot."

"He used to tease you? About me?" You hum, a little smug at this little snippet of information. 

"You know what he's like," Jeongguk reminds you, 'cause it's not like you've ever been spared from Jimin's teasing. "Doesn't know how to not be irritating. Character flaw. Think he was born that way."

Despite his annoying tendencies, Jimin is adored by pretty much everyone he meets. Jeongguk doesn't say such things to be mean, but rather because he views him like a sibling. 

"If anyone knows how to handle him, it's Nabi," you muse, thinking back to Pohang. "He'd have driven me insane organising the Jilympics."

"Don't call it that," Jeongguk smiles at how ridiculous his best friend is. Delicately arranging the flowers, Jeongguk's sense of perfectionism comes out once more. "He's a little narcissist. He'll sense his ego being inflated from miles away, and then his head won't be able to fit through doors." Tweaking a yellow flower to move it more centrally, Jeongguk shakes his head. "And to think the first time you were in this apartment—"

"Shut up," you groan, not wanting to be reminded of it. "Everybody makes mistakes."

"Alright, Hannah Montana," Jeongguk teases you. "It's just kinda wild, isn't it? How everything has just worked itself out?"

"Don't," you say with a glint in your eye. "You'll jinx it."

Perhaps it's foolish—naive, even—but he doesn't think it's possible. Thinks that this is all set in stone. That your names have been etched on a cliffside somewhere, and that's where you'll remain forever more. 

He forgets that cliffs erode. That the weather is unpredictable, and life even more so. 

He's always been cautious. Reluctant of counting eggs.

But he’s hungry. Ravenous. The first at the dinner table, and the last to leave. Bites off more than he can chew. Chokes and splutters in the wake of it all, every single damn time.

It’s a flaw he’ll admit to having, but why can’t vices be virtues? Why can’t he be optimistic? Why shouldn’t he hope for the best? He spent so long living in a perpetual state of fear, and it never did him any good. Wasn’t until he started opening himself to the idea of things working out okay that they actually started heading in that direction.

“I’ll do no such thing,” he assures you, reaching for a pan to start with his second course. Again, he’s hungry in all aspects of the word. Hasn’t even had his burgers yet, but he’s a growing boy, or so he’d have you believe. Better to just get it cooked first, and save him the hassle of getting up again later. “You want some?”

He nods towards the empty saucepan, but doesn’t need to explain what he’s making. You know it’ll be instant bibimyeon.

“A little,” you nod, knowing that this relationship is gonna be terrible for your waistline. Opening up his fridge, you pull a can of soda from the fridge. Jeongguk doesn’t really ever buy soda, unlike you and your minor peach soda addiction, but take-out places always chuck a complimentary can of something in with your orders, so he’s got quite a stockpile now.

“You want a beer or something instead?” He asks, as he begins to prepare the instant noodles in the most embellished way he possibly can. Spices, sauces, you name it, he’s always adding something—and it’s always delicious. 

Cracking the can open, you set it down and swipe the camera of your phone up to snap a picture of him; to document him in his element. “Nah, it’s okay. Want a clear head for tomorrow.”

Jeongguk smiles, hearing the synthetic shutter of your phone clicking. “Obsessed.”

“So?” You grin, immediately swiping across to open up Instagram and preserve the moment on your story. “You love it.”

Though he doesn’t reply, he does look in your direction with a smile that would only confirm your words.

Together, you fall into a casual rhythm, you perched up on a barstool while he cooks. Conversation darts from A to B, Y to Z. There’s no topic of conversation too obscure nor taboo for you to realm into the depths of, but there’s also something comforting about how you can just natter about the weather, how he should get his hair cut, what’s on at the cinema. 

By the time he’s eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, you’re already in the shower. It’ll be an early night. You’ve both been working today, and both have important things to get done the next day. 

There’s no objection from you as he taps on the door and asks to come in. You hadn’t locked it deliberately. Jimin’s out, and even if he’d have come home, he’d have heard the shower going—or Jeongguk would have told him. There’s no real worry there.

“Been looking forward to this all day,” Jeongguk admits as he grabs his shirt by the nape of his neck, pulling it over his head in that boyish way he so often does. Neither of you really care about being naked—it’s a daily occurrence at this point—but seeing him get undressed makes your heart feel all jelly-like and void of structure. The chambers melt, and so do you. 

It’s not just attraction, but affection. Acknowledgement that he doesn’t mind being vulnerable with you. That the things humans do to renew themselves — eat, shower, sleep — are things he wants to do with you. He doesn’t want to be full if you’re hungry, sleep while you’re starved of rest, nor wash away the traces of you. Renewal without you just doesn’t make sense to him. 

“Me too,” you quietly say as he joins you. The water pitter-patters down on you both, his hair wetting before laying flat against his forehead. When his deft hands push it away, it always falls back. 

Instinctively, your arms wrap around his waist, his around your shoulders, the embrace akin to coming home. 

“We should both just quit our jobs and do this forever,” Jeongguk muses, almost sleepy in how he mumbles his words against the top of your head. 

“Someone’s gotta pay the water bill,” you smile against his bare chest.

“That’s why I live with Jimin,” Jeongguk replies, tone cheeky and warm. 

The smile on your face sweetly settles into something a little more neutral as you outwardly consider your own living situation. “Lease is up soon, yanno. Mine and Dans.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, wet hair tangling over itself against his skin. He holds you just as tightly. “Haven’t started looking for new places, yet.”

“I’ve still got a few months left on mine,” Jeongguk says, pulling back to reposition the shower head. Just wants to hear you a little more clearly. “My bed is basically yours anyways.”

It doesn’t take a genius to work out what he’s insinuating—but it also doesn’t take a genius to know that it wouldn’t be the right thing for you both, yet. 

Your eyes are soft as you shake your head. “I’ve a whole apartment's worth of stuff, Gguk. I can’t just move into your room. Need my own space.”

He frowns, reaching for the shampoo. “You can. And I’ll even move my statues.”

“You mean your action figures?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, and then you’re giggling, and any negative thoughts Jeongguk could have about you saying ‘no’ dissolve into nothingness, like water running down the drain. He passes you over the shampoo once he’s gotten himself some, and adds, “People pay good money for a collection like mine.”

“You mean you spent a fuck ton of money on them?”

“We’ve all got our weaknesses,” he protests. “You’ve got so many clothes. I don’t think I’ve ever been into your room when there hasn’t been an avalanche of clothes on the chair, wardrobe and dressers bursting at seams—”

“Exactly,” You laugh. “Now imagine all of that in your room.”

He takes a second. Visualises it as he lathers up the foamy shampoo in his hair and almost hisses. “Yeah. You’re right. I take it back. Get your own place.”

Rolling your eyes, you flick a little water in his direction, as if it makes a difference. 

He grins, teeth on show, lip ring doing the thing that just makes you melt. 

“See,” you grin right back. “I’m always right.”

The rest of your shower is littered with dumb conversations and stolen kisses between shampoo rinses. In fact, it’s how the rest of the evening continues. Some dumb action film plays on the tv, and then Jeongguk finds a dumb youtube quiz, and you giggle into the early hours over some other dumb shit. Dumb, dumb, dumb and oh so totally in love. 

The apartment issue lingers in the back of Jeongguk’s mind, though, and questions dance on the tip of his tongue. He tries to brush them away, but the mint of his toothpaste isn’t enough to erase them. They taste sour, and he knows the only way to rid the sensation is to speak them into existence.

Gone midnight, the city is still alive. His curtains are open, because you’ve started to get used to the way he likes to sleep, and find it far easier to wake up early when the sun is giving you a warm welcome to the day. Funny, how things change. How willing he was to change his habits for you, and how seamlessly yours have changed to fit him. You’re better for knowing one another, or so it feels. 

The light pollution gives his bedroom a soft glow, and with every change of advertisement on the billboards across the street, the hue changes. Like his own personal mood lamp, it’s become a staple of his home. It’s blue, now, and so is he when he considers the fact that you haven’t yet reached the stage of sharing a home.

Your arm is looped over his waist, ‘cause he’d decided that the role of the little spoon would be going to him. Fingers interlocked with yours, he has no interest in ever letting go. 

“B?”

“Mhmm?”

“Is Dan definitely moving in with Tae?”

“Think so.”

Jeongguk doesn’t immediately reply, but you leave space open for him. A question like that didn’t come out of the blue. It’s something he’s been ruminating on, no doubt.

When he finally does speak, the weight of his soft, if not somewhat pouty, words crush down on your chest in a way that you can’t quite explain. Hell, in a way you don’t want to explain, because it would mean admitting that a man has such power over you (even if said man is Jeon Jeongguk).

“They’ve always been one step ahead of us,” he laments.

And then he leaves silence for you. Knows that you always have a response of some kind that will settle his woes. Feels guilty that you’re always cleaning up the messes of his loose lips, but would be a liar if he said he didn’t crave the sweet nothings you soothe him with.

“They’re on an entirely different path, baby,” you gently press a kiss into his shoulder. He’s so warm and powder-fresh from his shower that you can’t help but want to cling to him like a koala bear. Most importantly, though, you don’t want him to move away. Space to talk is fine, but physical space? God, no. “There's no use comparing.”

But Jeongguk is a glutton for punishment. Will continue making himself feel small for the sake of his perceived flaws.

“Loved you before Taehyung even knew who Danbi was,” Jeongguk pouts, ‘cause he’s in his head again, going round in circles when he really needn’t be. You know he does this, though. It doesn’t surprise nor concern you. If anything, it reassures you, because his willingness to share these thoughts just signposts how far you’ve both come. He used to stew and sour over things like this. Now, he shares his burdens “But they’re doing all these big milestones first. They were a couple, went on vacation, and now moving in together. All before us.”

“It’s not a competition,” you sweetly laugh. “Their relationship couldn’t be more different to ours. Plus I hardly consider a weekend in Jeju a big vacation—we can literally do that this weekend, if you want.”

You’re not sure why you’ve never been away together. Busan is always lovely, but it’s a short drive, and is somewhere Jeongguk still considers to be home. It’s not a holiday. Perhaps you should rectify that. It's better spoken about during the daylight hours, but always a little nicer to dream at night. Make silly, fantastical plans that you could always turn into reality, if you really wanted. 

“Gguk,” you softly continue. “As much as I love them both, we’re literally so different from them. Our relationship was never gonna be like theirs.”

“You think?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, lips brushing against the bare skin of his shoulder. “Well, I mean, he lets her peg him for starters—”

Jeongguk turns so quickly it’s a miracle he doesn’t fall out of bed. Even in the darkness of his room at night, the open curtains mean his shock is easy to make out. “Does he actually?!”

Giggling, you roll onto your back, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. Truth is, you’ve no idea. Just said it to be a dick. 

“Probably,” you say, admitting that you don’t know. You just knew it would cause a reaction. Ease the tension, somewhat. “He’s like, obsessed with her. Would let her do anything she wants.”

Sinking back down into the sheets with you, Jeongguk wraps his arm over your body now. Pulls you close. Presses a kiss to your neck, and says, “You lost the bet, y’know? Can’t even go 24 hours without thinking about fucking my ass, can you?”

It sounds like a complaint, but the way his lips seem unable to stop pressing wet kisses against your throat would prove otherwise. Your hand tangles in his hair, scratching his scalp in approval. 

“Cute that you think I haven’t been thinking about it all day,” you tease, biting back the small murmur of a moan that’s just begging to escape from his touch. 

You often have thoughts about him throughout the day, both pure and impure. It’s not like you mean to—it’s just that there’s something about Jeongguk that is impossible to forget. Like a class-A drug, you linger from high to high, using thoughts about him to sustain your comedown until you can see him again. 

He is your boyfriend, though. Would be weirder if you weren’t a little obsessed.

“Liar,” he scolds. “I picked your clothes up after our shower. Your underwear were dry.”

“You were inspecting my underwear? Freak,” you tease, because quite honestly the idea of him studying your underwear in the hopes of finding arousal is kinda hot, even if a little perverted. “And maybe it’s because you don’t get me excited.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk ignores your insult. Instead, his hand creeps down the mound of your pussy, pausing before he sinks his fingers between your thighs. “So you’ll be dry right now, then?”

“I’ll be just like the Gobi,” you assure him with that tone of defiance he's grown to adore. “Try me.”

You don’t know why you’re offering yourself up like this, ‘cause you know it’s only gonna end up one way.

“You’re such a fuckin’ liar,” he smirks—and then is proven correct as his fingers slide between your slick folds with ease. A gasp escapes from your lips as he casually brushes past your clit, paying it no attention whatsoever. “And even if you weren’t, there’s like, five bigger deserts than the Gobi. Sounds like it’s a pretty easy drought to rectify—but fuckin’ hell, B. My pretty girl and her filthy mouth. Full of lies, isn’t it? You’re fuckin’ soaked.”

“No,” you purr, hips languidly rolling to intensify the sensation he’s facilitating. After all, he’s right. There’s nothing dry about the situation between your legs. “Never told a lie in my life.”

His teeth nip at your neck as his body presses up against your side, the thick ridge of his cock letting you know that you most certainly get him excited. 

“You’re so full of shit, B,” he quietly says, lips from a pretty little kiss against the edge of your jaw. “Told so many lies, haven’t you, hm? Like when you used to tell people we were just friends?”

The desperate sigh that escapes your mouth only fuels him on even more.

“You remember the first time I touched you like this, huh?” He husks against your ear. “Those pretty eyes of yours watching us in the mirror. You can see us now, can’t you?”

Nudging his head against yours, he encourages you to look in the direction of his mirror. You always sleep on the side of the bed closest to it, but you rarely pay it any attention these days. The pair of you are obscured—bed sheets and shadows hiding what he’s doing to you—but the eroticism is just as potent as it always was.

“Gguk,” you rasp, back arching when he strokes against your clit just right.

Restraint is something that you wish you had been gifted with, but alas—you are just a girl, and he is just the sexiest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing a bed with. Of course you melt with every little thing he does.

“What is it, baby?” His index finger pushes into the seeping entrance of your cunt, just once, twice, to really get you moaning. “You like it when your boyfriend touches you?”

Something about Jeongguk referring to himself like that always gets you hot, but it’s partially because of the way he almost growls when he does it. You know it’s a turn-on for him. Know that his cock is throbbing. Know he loves calling himself yours.

Tugging on his arm, you encourage him to move on top of you. It’s late, and you should both be getting a good night's rest, but whatever. In half an hour, you’ll both be away with the fairies. If anything, this will help you fall asleep quicker.

“Thought you wanted an early night?” he husks against your lips, finishing his question with a kiss that lasts far longer than any words spoken. His firm lips part yours as your legs wrap around his hips as they grind up against yours.

“And I thought you said whoever speaks about fucking your ass next loses?” You smile against his lips, knowing that he definitely must have a twisted idea of what punishment is. “How is this losing?”

“We never set out terms,” he reminds you, unable to stop himself from kissing you between sentences. “But maybe it's not about losing. Maybe it’s about winning.”

“Okay?” You entertain his flirt, giggling between those kisses he just can’t seem to stop giving you. “So what are you winning?”

He pretends to give it thoughtful consideration. Squints his eyes and looks away as if contemplating one of life's great questions. Why are we here? What is the point of life? How do I want my girlfriend to make me cum tonight?

Jeongguk presses a kiss to your neck, nose nudging against your skin. He’s feline-like. Purry. Pathetic. Just how you like him.

“You haven’t sucked me off in a while,” he whispers, teeth nipping at your earlobe. Your hand laces in his hair, a soft moan humming from your lips. There’s a softness to the slow movements of your bodies. A comfort. A desperation. Unadulterated devotion. “So maybe that?”

You laugh at his shamelessness. Press a kiss to his temple, still scratching at his scalp. “I gave you a blowjob, like, two days ago, baby.”

“I know,” he whines like a wounded puppy, all docile and dejected. “It’s been so long I might die.”

“Hmm?” You hum in response, pushing on his waist ever so slightly until he gets the message to roll onto his back. He does as he's told, because he really is just a puppy dog beneath it all. Well-trained and desperate for a treat.

Following the movements of his body, you naturally ease into position on top of him. Legs straddled either side of his waist, you raise yourself up into a seated position, earning you a grunt of approval from Jeongguk. 

The way his hands immediately reach up to play with your chest is curious, considering he still plays himself off as an ass guy. Strong with his movements, he grips the softness of your tits, his hips gently pulsing up against you.

“These might help prolong my life expectancy,” he says. “Best stress balls known to man.”

He seems quite content like this. Eyes closed, a smile hangs off his lips like he’s in a serene state of bliss. You cock your brow, unable to fight a smile, too. 

“Did you just call my tits… balls?”

One of his eyes cracks open. “No?”

“You definitely did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did—”

“Byeol,” he reprimands your diversion of the topic. “C’mon. Business, baby.”

“Is that all I am to you, huh?” You say, reaching for his wrist so that you can pull your hairband from it. He lets you do so and looks on with salacious curiosity as you begin to tie your hair up in a ponytail. “Just a transaction?”

“Mhmm,” he nods, his own hair tangling against his pillow as he does so. “A bird for a bird, remember?”

“Are we not past the point of the birds?”

“Well, yeah,” he says as if it’s totally obvious. “Thought we were gonna do a plane?”

Jeongguk’s reference back to the paper planes that he crafted in your bedroom makes your heart seize. You know what he means by that. Knows that it’s permission, in a way. That he wants what you want, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it.

“Are we?”

“Well we’re not gonna do anything if you keep up with the small talk,” he fondly teases you, pulling you back down so your chest is against his. One of his hands wraps itself in your ponytail and tugs ever so gently. A soft moan escapes your lips, much to his enjoyment. “I like your hair like this.”

In all honesty, he just likes being able to pull on it. Loves your hair no matter how it’s done. 

“You’ll like it even more in a few minutes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw before you embark on your journey south. 

It’s intrinsic, how you work his body. A routine so well learned it’s not even given a second thought anymore. You know how to make him tick. The way he groans when you press pretty kisses down his collarbones and the way his hips roll when you drag the pink of your tongue over his pebbled nipples.

His hand clutches in your hair, keeping you in that position, encouraging you to pay a little extra attention to his nipples for a change. It’s not often that he wants too much focus on his chest, but he’s so turned on that even the slightest touch is making him go feral. 

“Shit,” he hisses when your teeth gently press down around his nipple before you suck it ever so gently. “You’re so fuckin’ good at that.”

He’s never cared for it before. In all honestly, he actively didn’t like it when previous partners did it. There’s something about you that subverts all his desires. You’ve changed him. Altered his understanding of his body. Opened him up to so much more than he’d ever considered before.

Still, you’ve got an agenda, and unfortunately for him, it doesn’t involve his chest. He lets you move down, one hand lazily hanging by your head, the other resting over his chest. His thumb strokes over his pebbled nipple, still wet from your tongue, the pleasure of your touch sending him into a state of ecstasy.

Your body shuffles down, and you both reposition yourselves. No longer are you straddling, but rather you’re between his legs. His thighs are dappled in kisses from you, before your palms rest flat to his inner thighs, spreading him just right.

Alternating between slow kisses and languid drags of your tongue, you teeter ever so close to his thick, solid cock, but never quite touch it. Every time you get close, he whines, cock twitching.

There’s a satisfaction to be found in the way his body responds to your touch. His desperation is painful. Visceral. All he wants is you. 

And because you can’t bear to see him in pain (whether or not because he’s so turned on he might just die), you concede. Give him what he wants. 

Hands on his thighs, you let a little spit pool on your tongue before slowly dragging the tip of your tongue up his shaft.

“Fucking hell,” he curses, writhing from the contact.

You smile, and the lightness of your breath against the wet streak of your tongue makes him shiver. 

The tip of his cock is already leaky with precum, his eagerness to be inside you so pathetically obvious. You avoid it, instead opting to repeat your previous moves. Slowly, you lick up his fat length, tongue flat as can be. You want him to feel as much of you as he can. Want him whining— begging —for your pussy.

If the precum seeping from his tip is a sign of desperation, then heaven only knows what the fuckin’ mess between your legs is. Every stroke of your tongue against him only serves to make you want him just as badly as he wants you.

Your hand reaches to wrap around his shaft, gently stroking his foreskin. Your tongue flicks against the base of his tip, right where you know he’s the most sensitive. 

It’s no surprise when his grip on your ponytail tightens. 

But it is a surprise when he lets go. 

“Hm?” You chirp, looking up, just to make sure he’s all good.

He is—he just isn’t looking at you to confirm it. Instead, his upper body twists ever so slightly as he reaches for his bedside drawer. 

You know it’s got a host of indecent artifacts—his sex toys, condoms, polaroids of you that are for his eyes only—but don’t give it much thought. Figure maybe he’s after a condom to make himself last longer, until you feel him tapping at your shoulder with the side of a small plastic bottle. 

He doesn’t say anything. 

Not immediately, at least. 

What he wants is something he can’t really bring himself to ask for. Hopes that you’ll work it out for yourself. 

As you take the bottle from him, a small chirp echoes from your throat, as if you’re asking for clarification. Again, Jeongguk hopes you’ll work it out. That he won’t have to shamelessly tell you what he desperately wants, cock twitching and leaking precum on his stomach.

The way you pause as you study the bottle, trying to read the text in the dim light of Jeongguk’s room, only adds to his apprehension—until he hears a soft smile exhaling from your lips when you realise exactly what it is: lube .

Never usually required, thanks to the fact Jeongguk makes you resemble a waterfall from just a look in your direction, you know the lube isn’t for you. It’s for him. 

And given the state of conversations around sex over the past week or so, you know what he’s asking for.

After all, he’s the one who wrote that damn airplane in the first place. Told you straight up that he liked ass play way back in the days of the sticky notes (some of which remain on his wall, yet to be conquered).

His drawer only really has his things in it, though. You’ve not got any of your toys at his place. This is a preliminary. A follow-up, almost, to the night spent in the Min’s garden, doing things that probably scared a few dozen nocturnal animals.

“Yeah?” You encourage, lips pressing to his upper thigh. His body adjusts ever so slightly, as if he’s shy. Your hand wraps around his shaft, slowly rolling his foreskin up and down his length in just the right way to get his hands gripping his sheets. 

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he rasps through the pleasure of having you touch him. “Just want you to do it.”

“Talk about what?” You tease, ‘cause there’s no way he’ll actually enjoy what he’s asking for if he keeps being this uptight about it all. Relaxation is key.

“B,” he groans, this time out of frustration—and so you know you need to be the one to take the lead.

It just doesn’t feel right to take the lead, knowing he’s a little bit tense. You’ve always been so clear and consistent with each other when it comes to consent, and while you know what he wants, you wanna hear him say it first. 

So you leave the bottle of lube next to his thigh and clamber up his body. Legs straddling his waist, you’re pleased that his hands come to stroke your thighs without a second thought. Conversely, your hands softly hold his cheeks, bringing him in for half a dozen pretty little kisses.

“Words are important. I’m not gonna be crude about it,” you tell him, ‘cause it makes a change to the way you joke around with one another. “I just love you, and I want to make you feel good.”

Jeongguks nose nudges back up against yours, as if to plead for more kisses (of which you give him, willingly).

“I love you more,” he argues into your lips, earning a giggle from you that somehow melts all of his worries away. 

“Chess is always an option,” you remind him, but he shakes his head.

“Just… Fucking hell,” he groans as if it’s some sort of laborious task he really can’t be bothered to see through, which couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s just embarrassed. It’s all rather cute. Or at least it is until he continues. “Just finger my ass.” 

He bashfully half whimpers, half laughs, and then adds a pouty, “Please.”

A smile sinks into your lips, and the way he seems almost shy makes your tummy feel all funny. He’s disastrously cute like this. 

“I’ll make you feel so good,” you promise, lips brushing against his ear.

He nods. Knows you will. Lets his hands stroke up and down your back, bringing them around to cup your boobs. Squeezes. Smiles. Can’t resist himself when he questions, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” You nod, pulling back to sit upright just for his viewing pleasure. His hands are still holding your tits, gently caressing. He’ll never not love the sight of this. Of you. Of the way you respond to his touch. 

“C’mere,” he grunts, pulling you back down, ‘cause he can’t let you go just yet. Your hands grip onto his bedframe as his lips eagerly latch onto one of your nipples. One of your hands drops to tangle in his smooth hair, a pretty little moan escaping your lips.

He takes it as a sign he’s doing something right. Switches up his sucking motion to flick his tongue against your hardened bud. Get you moaning all over again, the position of your legs spread over his waist, letting him know just how pleased you are to have him like this.

And while Jeongguk might have been asking you for favours, all he can think about is returning them.

Tapping on your ass, he’s a little breathless as he lets go of his latch on your nipple, and husks, “Up, baby. On my face. You before me.”

“Hm?” you languidly hum—not because you don’t know what he means, but because it goes against what he was asking for just minutes earlier.

Still, Jeongguk doesn’t care to explain his thought process (mainly because he doesn’t have one (he just likes having you in his mouth in any and all capacities)). Instead, he just continues tapping your ass until you get the message.

“You’re so impatient,” you lightly scold him while you do as he requests, but barely have time to position yourself before his arms are hooking over your legs, pulling your pussy to his mouth. “Oh fuck.”

He wastes no time suctioning his lips around your clit. He doesn’t care to be quiet about it. Eats you like it’s his last fuckin’ supper. Laps up against you. 

It’s not just his tongue, though. It’s like he wants his whole fuckin’ face in your cunt. His nose rubs up against your clit, while his tongue greedily licks your entrance. There’s no such thing as perfect, but the way he’s proportioned is as close as it gets, you think. Your hips grind, a hand tangled in his hair, the way you both move entirely primal. 

Hands squeezing at your ass, he encourages your movements. Wants you all over his face. Loves nothing more than being coated in you. 

His tongue begins to focus now, though. He positions himself just right. Flicks against your clit at such a speed it’s hard to comprehend—and then he’s moaning. Vibrating against you. Delivering a sensation that could never be replicated.

“I’m close,” you rasp. Whine. Moan. “Don’t wanna cum. Not yet.”

And while he wants you to, Jeongguk knows why. Knows you wanna fuck him. Knows you wanna cum around his cock instead of on his face. Multiple orgasms have never been an issue, but it is late. You do need a somewhat early night. 

He nods, easing up his tongue, slowly sucking on your clit. The movements of his head as he sucks only serve to make you feel like you might cum regardless, so you shakily (and regretfully) pull away. 

When you reposition yourself, he pulls you against his lips for the messiest, most obscene kiss possible. It’s all tongue, and little else. The taste of your cunt. The sweetness of his whines. The filth of how much he loves sinning with you. 

There's nobody else he could be like this with. Only you. Only ever you.

Straddled over his hips, you grind gently, his thick cock perfectly snug between your lips. Wet and swollen, they feel like silk against him. Jeongguk knows, given the chance, that he’d be able to cum like this. Easy.

That’s not what he wants, though, so you retrace your steps. Sink back down. Don’t fuck around this time. Instead, you take him in your mouth without hesitation. Return the favour he’s just bestowed upon you.

Head bobbing up and down his fat length, your hand wraps around the base of his cock. Pulling back, you spit against him, using your hand to spread it, gaining momentum. Loose with your grip, you focus on the tip of his sensitive cock, jerking him until he’s whining. Whimpering.

And then, you let your tongue stroke against his balls. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whines, his hips pulsing beneath you.

It’s all the approval you need for your hand to get a little tighter, and for your lips to take one of his balls in your mouth. It’s a sensation Jeongguk fuckin’ loves, if done right—and of course, you know how to do it perfectly for him. 

You take his ecstasy as a chance to move things along. Know he’s feeling good. Know he wants more. 

Pulling back, you sit on your heels. Neither of you speak, but Jeongguk does slowly nod when he sees you reaching for the bottle of lube next to his body. Trepidation hangs in the air. This territory is uncharted, and it’s been a little while since you last ventured so far south—but you’ve got a roadmap. Know the way. Even if you didn’t, you like to think intuition would guide you, regardless.

Warming it a little bit in your hands, you’re slow. Cautious. Careful, knowing that he’s probably feeling a little more vulnerable than usual.

Hands slick with the gel, you wrap a palm around his shaft. Ease him into the feeling. It’s not like it’s a new sensation, but the pair of you rarely ever use lube. You’re always wet enough. He nods. Lets his eyes close as your other hand gently massages against his balls.

A little further south, you venture. He’s not a stranger to your tongue against his taint, but your fingers are less frequent. He's not as well acquainted with the sensation, but he likes it. Legs spreading a little further, Jeongguk makes himself available for you. 

Smiling at just how cute he looks, you’re a curious mix of enamoured and outrageously turned on. Just like nobody could ever make him feel the way you do, nobody could ever make you feel the way he does. 

“You’re so hot,” you tell him, gently wanking his cock as two of your fingers stroke up and down his taint. You apply a little more pressure. Replace his bashful smile with a wanting gasp.

Slick with lube, you let your middle finger go lower. Slowly, you press against his rim. Watch him closely as his brows furrow. There’s that look of desperation once more, and the assurance that yes, he wants this. Wants you. 

You count in your head. 1, 2, 3… make sure he doesn’t stop moving his hips. If anything, he’s edging himself down. Encouraging you to apply more pressure. 

And so you do. Slowly, eyes trained on his pretty, pathetic face, you push your middle finger against his tight hole, until the muscle eases.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, the penetration of a single finger overwhelmingly pleasurable for him. His eyes flicker open, landing on yours as your finger begins to curl ever so gently. Just a little. Just enough.

Chest heaving, Jeongguk looks beautiful in a way that’s hard to put into words—and when you slowly pull out, he looks ruined in a way that’s also hard to comprehend.

His lips hang slack, chest heaving as his eyes burn into you like the heat of a thousand stars. Face dewy with sweat, hair sticks to his forehead, the storminess of his gaze quickly triggers a whirlpool within your stomach. There’s a neediness to him as he swallows back a breath, lips coming together so that he can lick them, before his pout forms that pretty little o-shape once more.

Breathless as he speaks, Jeongguk rasps, “Again.”

The corner of your lips twitch into a smirk. “Yeah, babe?”

“Yeah,” he pathetically nods, fucked out but somehow still painfully desperate for more. Of course he is, though. It’s you. No one gets him like this. No one ever will. His brows furrow together, his tongue flicking against the silver hoops in the corner of his mouth, as his eyes drop to his pathetically weeping cock. He’s so hard. So keen. So needy—and what he needs right now is you. “Please, B. More.”

You tease against his entrance, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp. It’s like a reward, to hear him like this. As if you’ve done something truly remarkable.

Your other hand wraps around the base of his cock, adding to the electricity surging through him. He reaches down. Wraps his hand around yours. Encourages you. Wants more. Needs more. And so you give him more.

Finger pushing into his tight entrance, you’re slow. Painfully so, though you aren’t causing any actual pain. Jeongguk just wants you to hit that spot. 

“Yeah?” You check in.

Breathless, nodding his head even though his eyes are closed, he says, “Yeah.”

Your finger curls. Strokes. Searches. Finds.

And Jeongguk moans in a way you don’t think you’ve ever heard before. It’s a whimper, almost. A plea. Or rather, a confession, maybe.

Your hands work in tandem, your finger stroking right against the spot that makes him whine, while your other hand strokes him in tempo. He’s stimulated in a way he isn’t used to. In a way he never really thought was possible. 

There’s a vulnerability that comes with penetration. Far easier to fuck someone than it is to get fucked.

When he looks down towards you, it's like looking through a telescope; galaxies in his big brown eyes. Wide and wanting, he'll give you all the stars in his eyes, no questions asked, no fee charged.

It’s when your head dips to press wet kisses against his taint that his whines really begin to get desperate. Has always loved your mouth. Loves it when it does things it shouldn’t. 

A girl like you shouldn’t have your nose pressed to a ballsack or her tongue mere millimetres away from an asshole, but the way you focus on delivering him pleasure would suggest otherwise. You’re made for this. Made for him. 

It’s when you whine, though, obsessed with his body's response to you, that he really begins to get twitchy. His hips pulse ever so gently, encouraging the movements of both hands.

“Yeah?” you breathlessly whisper, smirking at how a man so strong is just absolute putty in your hands. “You fucking yourself with my hands, huh?”

Jeongguk is beyond the point of pride. Has no need for dignity. Just wants to feel good.

“Yeah,” he admits between desperate breaths. “Gonna make me cum so fuckin’ hard.” 

Everything is moving in the same chaotic rhythm: his chest, his beating heart, his pulsing hips. Jeongguk’s cock is twitching, the sensation of you massaging his prostate taking him closer and closer to the point of release. He isn’t gonna last, and you don't want him to. 

Your hand grips even tighter around the base of his cock, the stimulation impossible to fight against. There’s only so much he can take.

“B,” he whines. “Oh, fuck.”

“Cum for me,” you tell him, not even caring for your lost orgasm from earlier. He can make it up to you later. You keep the pace of your finger consistent, but wank him off faster. He whimpers and he writhes, but he doesn’t ease up. “C’mon, baby. Show me how good I make you feel, yeah?”

If there’s one thing that drives him wild, it’s when you call him sweet little names. 

“Please, baby,” you beg, because you know just the right buttons to press. His hands grip his bed sheets, eyes struggling to stay open. He’s seconds away from death, or so it feels. A little death, at least. His legs begin to twitch. The onslaught of what is about to happen is unmistakable. “That’s it, baby,” you coo. “Show me how good it feels.”

“B,” he tries to speak, but can’t. All he can do it succumb to the pleasure. Whine. Mewl. Moan.

And then it’s happening; the evidence of how fucking good you are for him painting his abdomen. His cock is pathetic as it spurts ropes of thick, hot cum onto his belly. White and wet, it’s never-ending. He cums and he cums; gasps and gasps. 

It’s not until he begins to twitch, chest heaving, cock spent, that you withdraw from him. Immediately, you gently begin to trail your tongue across his hard abs, cleaning up the evidence of how much he likes having you in his ass. You're keeping his secrets. Promising you'll never tell a soul.

“Shit,” he curses, all breathless and fucked out, one arm over his chest, while his other hand reaches down to stroke the side of your head. “Fuck.”

Giggling now, you clamber up to join him, and Jeongguk cares not for the fact your cum is still on your tongue. In fact, he deliberately stokes his against yours, swapping the evidence of his pleasure between you both. Moaning into your lips, he’s spent in a way he never has been before. 

“God, I love you,” he whines into your mouth. Gets needy all over again. “You know that, huh? You know how much I love you?”

With a bashful nod, you find yourself giggling. “You know I know.”

“Good,” he nods, pulling away to face the ceiling, eyes closed, trying to get a little breath back. You snuggle into him, all rather sweetly considering what you’ve just done. “‘Cause I do. And I mean it. You’re literally, like, the love of my life.”

“Who knew all it would take was a little ass play to get your saying such soppy shit,” you tease him, pressing a kiss against his chest. “Should have done this months ago.”

He laughs now, too. “Just cause I didn’t say it back then doesn’t mean I didn’t think it.”

The pair of you descend into a comfortable warmth, giggling and joking, until you get up to wash yourself up a little. Jeongguk protests. Says he needs to return the favour—but ultimately agrees to wait until the morning. 

“Need to sleep at some point, babe,” you tell him as you both meander to the bathroom. Jeongguk makes a mental note to get a place with an en-suite when he moves out. In a pair of boxers, he watches you fondly as you wash your hands in the bathroom sink, all love drunk and bleary-eyed.

You’re in one of his shirts, and it drapes over your body in a way that it would never drape over him. He likes it better on you. In fact, he likes most things in his life better with the addition of you.  Thinks life would be impossible, if he were ever to lose you. 

“I think I’d die, yanno,” he mindlessly says, watching you plait your hair to stop it from tangling in the night. “If we ever broke up or weren’t together, I’d think I’d just die.”

You laugh, because it’s absurd. Both the concept of dying of a broken heart, and the idea that you would ever break up. 

“Don’t speak it into existence, then,” you tease. “It’s a full moon, Gguk. Can’t be manifesting things like that on a night like this.”

“I’m not,” he assures you, because if anything, he’s trying to do the opposite. Not once does he think to tell you that the full moon has nothing to do with it, or some other belittling remark about believing in the stars, like you know most guys would. Why would he though? A star is the closest thing he knows to religion, and he’s looking at it right now.

“Well, good,” you hum, turning to face him, hair now secure. “Let's just agree to not break up, and that way you won’t die.”

“Sounds good,” he sleepily smiles, tugging on your hand, guiding you back to his bedroom. 

It’s a ridiculous conversation for a ridiculous concept. 

Or at least, in the warmth of lust-drunk night, it is.

In the cold light of day, stark and sterile, everything has the potential to change. 

After all, bad decisions are your forte, are they not?

[avocado-writing]

The idea of Wade as a used car salesman found a love of his life during his midlife crisis before he met Logan. They don’t have a clue that he’s Deadpool. They just fall in love with Wade the used car salesman Wade Wilson, even see him as a funny, harmless person till one day his partner showing a picture of Deadpool and goes “He looks hot, could we find some costume to wear next time we fuck, dear?”

Wade totally forgot that he’s retired from Deadpool cause he’s in his suit, ready to fuck the love of his life for eternity. 👀

Wade Wilson knew he was in love the first time you cried laughing over one of his stupid jokes.

You’re probably too good for him with your easy smile and kind heart, and he knows he’s punching above his weight when he asks you out - but somehow you end up saying yes. 

At the bar that night he keeps you laughing until there are tears in your eyes and then continues the show in bed. It’s so lovely to have you all giggly under him, pressed into the mattress as he makes you cum so hard all you can do is moan. 

You lie there, walking your fingers up and down his chest, molasses-slow as the streetlights outside your apartment silhouette you both in fluorescence. 

“I like you, Wade. You’re nice,” you sigh, in a way which suggests you don’t often meet nice people. Ah man, he fucking melts. He’s never letting you go. 

Your relationship is pretty easy. He never feels like he has to work to impress you or keep you onside, you like him for him. It’s a… refreshing feeling, from a world where Wade Wilson constantly feels like he’s too much. 

He catches the Deadpool keyring on your house keys one night after the two of you have grabbed pizza on the way home; spotting the telltale red and black while trying to keep a pile of boxes in place between his hands and his chin. 

“Oh, Deadpool fan?” he asks, trying to affect nonchalance. He sees you get a little flustered. 

“I mean… yeah? Back in his heyday I thought he was cute, kind’ve a shame he disappeared. Merc with a mouth, what’s not to love?” you pause for a second. “He reminds me of you actually.”

Wade laughs at that way too loud and way too hard.

“What? No. That’s crazy!”

You throw him a side-eye but don’t comment further. 

He lets it rest for a couple of days so as not to draw suspicion, but when you make yourself a cup of coffee and his own mask is staring back at him from the ceramic, he can’t hide his wandering eyes. 

“What’s up?” you ask. 

“Nothing. Just didn’t realise they made those.” He didn’t get a cut. Should he have gotten a cut? Would have been nice if whoever had merchandised his face had asked him if he was cool with it.  

“Oh, look, everyone has a crush on at least one superhero, okay? It’s impossible not to. They’re everywhere and they’re hot!”

He lets himself digest this. You think Deadpool is a superhero? He didn’t get that much. Mostly he was referred to as “god’s curse to crimefighting”. But also you have a crush on him? Both of these facts are… interesting. 

“I… think Deadpool is hot, too,” Wade blurts out when he realises he’s been silent for ten uninterrupted seconds. 

“Oh,” you reply, settling down a little when it turns out he’s in agreement with you. “Well, cool! Glad we can agree.”

Phew. Got outta that one, then. 

He really doesn’t think any more of it, or tries not to, until a couple of weeks later when you bring it up in bed. 

“Wade, can I ask something kinda kinky?”

Cuddled in post-coital bliss, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin, he pauses. 

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely, sweet cheeks. I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

“How do you feel about roleplay?”

He turns to you with a grin which threatens to split his face in half.

“Oh, you’ve been keeping that under your hat!” he laughs, “But, in answer to the question, very positive. What were you thinking? Cop and criminal? Nurse and patient? I’m down to play any of those roles by the way, I believe in equal gender opportunities in the bedroom.”

You chuckle, but when you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and try to work out how to phrase the next part of the question, he cottons on. 

“Oh my god. You want me to roleplay Deadpool, don’t you?”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to! It’s just, you said you thought he was sexy… so I wondered…”

He puts a finger on your lips, stoppering the spill of panic from your lips. 

“Baby, I am so down to clown that you might as well call me Pennywise. Let me sort the details and I’ll give you the best night of in-character boning that’s ever been known to man.”

You look giddy at that promise. Truth be told, he’s kinda excited himself. 

Wade retrieves the suit the next day and feels a little weird putting it back on, covering his body again with red and black. When he’s done this in the past it’s in order to go and kill like, a lot of people, not to fulfil a fantasy. But hey - there’s a first time for everything. And it’ll make you so happy, too.

You scream when he taps on your window from his perch on your fire escape. Admittedly he should have told you he was coming, but he thought it could be a fun and sexy surprise. He was wrong. 

“WHAT THE FUCK—!”

Wade whips off the mask as you lunge for your kitchen knife set, hands up in a gesture of peace. 

“Baby! Babe, it’s just me!”

You go limp with relief, leaning against the counter to support yourself. 

“Holy shit! Wade, what the fuck do you think you’re…”

You trail off as you take in the picture of your boyfriend crawling in through the tiny window decked out in his suit. An eyebrow raises. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah! See, I told you I’d sort it.”

Anger and fear now completely ablated, you walk a slow circle around where he stands in your kitchen, appraising his look. 

“This is a high quality suit. Where did you get it?”

“Peter,” he says quickly. This isn’t a lie. He did get it from Peter… Peter’s locker anyway. You look confused. 

“Our coworker Peter?” When Wade nods you furrow your brow. “He… he hasn’t fucked in this suit, has he?”

“No!” says Wade with far too much force. Actually he can’t prove that. Now it’s an image he can’t shake from his mind. Not super conducive to the mood. 

He takes a knife from his belt, and your eyes go wide in a mixture of panic and arousal. 

“Oh my god…”

“It’s blunt! Well. It’s sharp enough for me to cut your underwear off, which I’ve been rocking a semi all day from imagining…”

From the smile which takes up your face, he knows he’s done right. 

Any way you ask him to fuck you, he does. Over your dresser. Against your wall. While running the dulled point of baby knife over the curve of your ass as he pistons his hips inside you, getting the mess of your cum all over the front of his suit. It’s filthy. It’s fantastic. 

But when you lay there cuddled up to his chest that night, Wade feels… conflicted. It isn’t that he’s lying to you, exactly, but it feels like he’s keeping a pretty fucking big secret. 

If you knew, would you still like him? Still want to be with him? Having a crush on a superhero is one thing, but being with one is entirely different. Ask any of the assorted Spider-Man and their various fucked up partners. It isn’t always pretty.

As if determined to take his mind away from this thought you nuzzle into his side, blissfully fucked out. He buries his lips into your hair. 

It never needs to be an issue. Deadpool is retired. He’s never gonna be used for non-kinky reasons again. 

…right?

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk @starfleetteddybear

[goldsbitch]

can I request a Lando x reader where the reader’s weakness is when people stroke her hair? Her mind goes completely blank and she falls silent immediately when people stroke her hair and Lando uses it at his advantage.

Fluffy pls and ty🫶🏻

omg, i love this prompt so much - thank you and hope you like it!!

This is one is dripping with sweetness a little too much, don't say I did not warn you. No other warning.

Lando was born a tease, oscillating between clueless and shy, to unapologetic and bordeline dickish. It all depended on the setting, his relationship to the person and how much sleep he got the night before. Sometimes your boyfriend was the sweetest little thing, giggling shyly about everything instead of coming up with an actual response, and the other times he was a walking menace actively seeking every opportunity how to get you into a flustered state.

You and Lando were full on deep in the beginning of your relationship, the sweetest part of the honeymoon phase. To put it bluntly - fucking almost non stop. And the desire was never-ending. Blinding sunshine kissed good morning to every day you two got to wake up next to each other. Problems seem to be non existent. Bliss.

It was the way his hair curled when he got a little bit sweaty, his toned body what you were desperate to explore from every angle and the need to know every little secret trick that worked on him. It became some sort of a game, who would get better at knowing the other. Which one of you found all the buttons to push.

Lando rose up that morning and chose violence. Metaphorical one, of course. Snuggling up to you in order to wake you up as well for some morning work out, as he like to call it. Whispering sweet nothings to your ear and touching you all over your body. But you were just incredibly sore from the past few days, physically unable to keep up.

"Why don't you love me anymore," he pleaded jokingly as you murmured another weak appeal for your sleep.

"Lando, you know I love you more than anything," you replied, still half asleep. But it was hard to distinguish as reality resembled a sweet dream everyday lately.

"I remember when you used to want me, physically," he kept going.

"We literally had sex few hours ago, stop whining," you kissed him between your words. He looked at you with his incredible eyes, little devil dancing in each one of them.

"Exactly, too long ago. Wish I could go back in time when you were not sore and get inside you all over again."

You simply laughed, absolutely smitten with this lovey dovey side of him. His words made you melt like butter sitting under direct sun. You brushed your noses together and then he kissed you.

The best part of romantic relationships is the one that you cannot absolutely share with other people, the almost embarrassing pleas, desire and gross goofiness, simping at each other all the time.

"Fine, if you play by these rules, I'll come back with my own revenge," he said finally as you inevitably had to start getting ready to go to the paddock with him.

Today was the big day. You'd been spotted in public countless of times, the "girlfriend" title officially sitting on your head for weeks now. But this was the first time you were to join him in the paddock as a wag. You were trying to hide your nervousness, but he saw right through you. Before you exited the apartment, he made you stop and took your face in his hands. "I'm happy I get to do this with you. I love parading you around, for everyone to see that we're a team." You smiled, his words hitting like first snowflakes of the year. "Poor Oscar, I can't wait to finally trauma dump the shared misery you bring to our lives," you jokes and locked lips with him once again. "God, it's terrifying how much I like you," you said automatically, without having to think about it.

//

It actually wasn't as bad as you'd expected. It was definitely weird and strange, but not necessarily bad. Having Lando by your side as you passed the gates definitely helped. The photographers were lined up as people at a shooting range would and it did feel like that at first. But as quickly as you were initially overwhelmed, fatigue took over you and you blocked their ever-presence out. Trying to chat up those Lando introduce you to and memorizing the names. You knew how much some of these people meant to Lando, so you were trying to be at your best behavior. The thought that his friends would hate you in the same way as some of his fans haunted you.

In the middle of all the rush, you parted for a moment. To be honest, little peace of quiet and chill was something you appreciated. But remember, Lando woke up and chose violence this morning. And his plan was quite simple, yet bulletproof.

"Y/N! There you are, my love," you heard from coming from behind you. "I have someone to introduce to you! I'm very much sure you'll appreciate meeting him." As you turned, you saw Daniel Ricciardo walking your way with your Lando. You were a little perplexed as to why Lando was so cheerful about that. You clearly remembered him getting very upset when you admitted to him that at some point in the past, when formula 1 was a world far away from you, that you had a minor crush on Daniel. Which obviously went out of the window once you met Lando. That did not mean that Lando was 100% ok with it.

"Y/N, as I'm sure you know, this is Daniel, hell of a driver and good friend of mine," Lando continued and you knew him well enough to know he had ulterior motives. Not sure what to do, you smiles shyly and shook Daniel's hand.

"Hi, Daniel," you said, eyes flinching between him and Lando. You were full on preparing for anything. Lando's smirk almost had a life of his own at that point.

"Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I've heard quite a lot things about you!" Daniel opened, life of the party as per usual.

You chuckled. "All good things, I hope!" And with that, Lando stepped behind you and put his arm around you.

"Only the best," he said, leaned closed and inconspicuously started to stroke you hair gently. Oh, he did not just go this low.

It was slow, yet like tidal wave. You stopped breathing for a moment. Your body relaxing, as if you'd just taken the world's best sedatives. The way his hands made you feel was etherial. It was the same sensation the luckier ones experienced when listening to ASMR and the less fortunate ones sometimes called an orgasm. Shivers slowly traveling around your whole body, every part becoming sensitive out of nowhere. You weren't able to look at Daniel, let alone continue speaking. Lando was more than aware of what touching your hair did to you. He'd discovered this trick quite early on. And it was his favorite one.

"So, where are you from?" Daniel attempted at small talk. But how could you possibly give a fuck at that moment. Not that your body would even allowed you to respond. The only thing you were able to take in from the outside world were the soft slow movements Lando's fingers were doing, blocking everything out instanteniously.

Daniel stared at you, waiting. From his perspective, this was a very awkward meeting.

Lando answered for you, with a smirk you did not see, but could feel from the tone of his voice. "You have to excuse her, she is bit shy in front of new people."

You could not give less of a fuck at that moment of what these two were saying. Your lips were starting to shiver from getting so sensitive. You took a short breath and someone who would be standing close and knew you well would know, that what escaped your mouth was not a nervous laugh, but something very close to a moan.

Lando and Daniel were saying words, but none of that was important, while Lando's fingers were working his magic. He would only leave your hair alone once he saw Daniel leaving.

You wanted to be mad at him. But you were still sort of high from all the sensation bomb Lando dropped on you. You slowly turned around to face him, coming down from your own personal nirvana.

You took a deep breath while he watched you without a blink and biting hims smile away.

"You promised," you let out air that got stuck in your lungs somewhere along the way. "You promised you would not do this in public." Your brain was slowly wiring up to normal again.

"I told you I'd punish you for the morning," he said as if it was the most amusing thing ever. "Also, if Daniel is my competition, I'm going to use all the advantage I have."

Lando had a way of looking at you that made you unravel instantaneously and there was no way of stopping it. There was just something about his smile that did it for you. As anyone who is properly in love, you could not imagine somebody being able tor resist that. In your love soaked mind, he was irresistible. To a normal mind, he was probably just a regular guy, but that idea was unfathomable to you.

"I'm pretty sure that after what I just pulled, you will not have to worry about Daniel liking me," you chuckled, having to accept that Lando won this one.

"I would never let my guard down...But yeah, I think this one is pretty safe," he chuckled once more. You kissed his overly proud face and promised to yourself to get back at him later, in the privacy of his bedroom.

[hoshigray]

hmmmm, chosuki both "marking their territory" after one of reader's friends gets a little too touchy?

Love your work <3333333

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: when i tell you i was grinning once i saw this in my inbox, lol, finally chosuki yessss!! ty for loving my stuff ☆

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Choso + Yuki x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - threesome - oral (m! + f! receiving) - fingering (f! receiving) - anal (f! receiving) - anal fingering (f! receiving) - cowgirl 69 + missionary positions - breast fondling + nipple play + sucking - biting/marking - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, honey, sweetie, sweet pea) - mild possessive behavior.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k

“Damn, Y/n, you’re so lucky to have such eye-catchers fawning over you!”

“Pfffthaha, oh, stop it! You’re drunk; stop swinging around!”

There’s one thing in this world that both Yuki and Choso don’t play about — you.

You are the sweetest and most prized treasure they cherish with their very hands. Being in a poly relationship tends to be a hard thing to manage for Yuki and Choso. The two lovers were never in luck to find the right person who didn’t match their vibe or wanted to change the dynamic they were going for. But with every dark tunnel, there’s a light on the other side. And thanks to the blonde and dark brunette’s stars, you were their saving grace.

God, they adored you very much — the best partner they could ever have. The way you’d wake up to them and give them a kiss with a soft ‘good morning,’ how you make lunch for Choso before he goes on his way to work, or texting sweet messages to Yuki to check how she’s doing or telling her about this new place that opened around the area for all three of you to explore. Blind by your smile and caring charm, Yuki and Choso live in eternal bliss and happiness, knowing you have blessed them with your presence to return home to.

Their love for you is mutual and genuine, authentic in that they wish to spend their days — no, their entire lives! — being with you. They see you as their muse, as theirs. So, it’s predictable that they’d be secretly jealous when they’d have to share their piece of heaven with others.

Especially now when all three of you had been dragged by some of your old college buddies for a night out at the pub. Figuring this would be a perfect opportunity to introduce your friends to your lovers, Yuki and Choso were invited over to enjoy the merits of this occasion. What the two partners hadn’t expected was how close you all were — albeit a little too close for their liking. 

You all sat at one big round booth table, Yuki and Choso being separated from you as your friends wanted to have you by them for just the night. Again, it made the two lovers feel uneasy. Even when a girl friend grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers with hers enthusiastically, the blonde can’t fight the twitch of her ruby eyes. The friend goes on to say, “Nah, are you kidding? I think those two are the ones who are lucky to have Y/n! They’re such an angel; anyone would feel like they’ve won a million dollars if they got with someone like them.”

Then, a guy who was visibly buzzed joined the praise fest. “You’re so right! I’d do backflips every day if I scored someone so gracious and sweet as Y/n,” the drunk man brings a hand on your shoulder and nestles his cheek to your shoulder. Choso attempts to keep a neutral expression, but caramel eyes carry a tiny hostile aura. “I’d make sure to love on them every single day, kiss their feet when they walk, wash their hair when they ask—“

“Okay, lover boy,” you stop him before your drunken friend digs his foolish grave even further, and it’s hard to hide your giggles. “I think that’s enough Crowne and tequila for one night.”

You and your friends laugh and continue to strike up a conversation to catch up on material. However, you’re so engrossed in the others’ talk that you can’t sense the tension that’s brewing from the other side where your lovers sit. The two survey the scene with silent eyes, with Choso hitting his leg to stop the bounce of his knee and Yuki tapping her fingernails on the table surface.

All they could do was watch you, their treasured partner, share your attention with those who cherish you. Although, internally, they wanted you all to themselves. Yes, it was selfish; however, you can’t blame your lovers for being a little protective of you. Specifically when it seems your friends don’t appear to respect your boundaries when in their company.

So for that, it’s no surprise they instantly pull you into the bedroom once you three return home. Hungry kisses are exchanged between three pairs of lips, lustful hands stripping you of your clothes and throwing you onto the bed, where they meet in seconds to feast upon you.

“Hahhh, fuck…Hmmm, yeah, lick right there, honey.”

“Mmmm…Mmahh!! Choso, your tongue—Ohh! Feels so good…”

The brunette man is lying down on his back with you straddling above him, his face and mouth buried into our folds, licking around your labia and sucking your essence that seeps out from the pleasurable motions. His hands knead the flesh of your inner thighs as you hum along to the touch. Simultaneously, you use your tongue and mouth to give pleasure to Yuki’s slit, the blonde releasing shaky moans as she rides on Choso’s length with her ass.

The tall woman peers down to watch you orally please her. She strokes your head with a pleasant hand and sends praises. “There you go, cutie,” she bites her lip. “Lick it real good.”

Her commands egg you on to keep going, using the motion of her hips to your advantage to predict how far in you can keep lapping her chasm. Your hands crawl to her waist to massage, using the leverage to keep your lips on her at all times. And to your effort, she is sighing happily at the gratification you give her. It has her rock her hips ever harder, taking in Choso’s long shaft with hunger.

The man below you grunts at the motion, stuffing his face more into your cunt to suck harshly. And you can’t help but jolt, muffled squeals vibrating to Yuki’s core — and she relishes the feeling.

“Look at you, baby,” Choso slowly licks your chasm, sending shivers up to your shoulders. “You’re all wet and ready for us, huh? So good for us,” He kisses your clit and places lazy licks, and you fight to lose your balance.

“Hmmm, yeah, so good for us…Although—mmahh,” Yuki throws her head back at Choso’s dick scraping her insides at the right places. “Can’t say you were good when we were…Hohhh..at the pub.” You bat your eyes towards her in confusion, yet your tongue and lips remain busy. “Letting those people touch you in front of us; what were you thinking?”

You remove your mouth from Yuki to explain, her slick connected to your bottom lip. But before you could utter a word, your body jerked to the sharp instance of pain on your inner thigh. Choso had bit you, licking the place his teeth sank in before throwing in another nibble. You shriek, turning to plead to the man to be easy; however, the woman grabs your head and brings it back to where it’s supposed to be. “Don’t forget about me, sweet pea,” she chuckles at your feverish laps on her wet folds. “Give me my attention…”

She moans to your work, satisfying her with the flick of your tongue on her delicate clit. She rocks her hips even faster, prompting Choso to groan and buck his pelvis to her puckered hole, and his mouth remains glued to your chasm. He then sneaks a finger to toy around your asshole, and a sharp gasp erupts from your figure when he inserts the digit inside. 

“—Khhaaa, oooohmy fuckin’—Gaaahh!” Flicks to your clitoris tag along with the push of his finger inside your ass, playing with the texture by scraping the walls. And when his tongue goes inside your vagina, you clamp onto him with vigor. Fuck, I’m so close…! “Yukiiii, pleaseee, can I cumm?”

“Aww, why should I let you,” her sweet tone distracted you from the sneaking bit of the man’s teeth on your thigh once more. “Do you deserve to cum? After letting other people touch you like you forgot you had your lovers present?” 

“Hahhhnn, I’m sorry; I—shit… didn’t mean to upset you both…Ooof!” Choso switches his finger with his thumb, pushing it to and fro inside your tight entrance. Your eyes screw shut, “Please forgive me, you two are the only ones I love…”

“You swear on that, honey?” A glint shines in her magenta orbs. 

You nod hurriedly before placing kisses on Yuki’s thighs and trailing them back to her vagina, “Yessss, I love you both so much, no one knows how to love me as you do…” Your hips sway involuntarily — not a problem for Choso, who sticks to you no matter what. “Mmmm, only you two know my mind and body, and I wouldn’t want it any other way…”

Blonde brows eyebrows screw together; fuck, you knew what to say to make Yuki fall for you all over again. Her cunt clenching on nothing but the love your words carry. Jesus, you were too much. Without a word, she gently withdraws your body from her body so she can lift her body off of Choso. She then flips you over; now you’re the one lying on your back, with the tall woman stationed behind to snake her hands to your breasts.

Choso’s pigtails have long been drawn down for his hair to fall to his nape, and strands of his walnut-colored hair stick to his forehead. Maneuvering to his knees, he examines your anticipated expression, shaky wails coming out your puffy lips as Yuki places soft kisses on your neck. She also places bites wherever her mouth can reach, her hands busy cupping your mounds, groping the mounds, and tweezing your nipples. With how hard she was sucking your skin, you’re sure there’d be hickeys when you wake up in the morning. The man strokes his dick at the sight before him, inching closer to be between your legs.

“Choso…” The way you said his name made him feel warm; the mark across his nose exuded streaks of his blood that threatened to fall. His ears and shoulders get pinker, and your breath hitches when he slaps the tip onto your saliva-coated slit. 

“Who do you belong to, Y/n?” He says it low to your ear, and you chew on your lip when he licks your lobe. His mouth travels down, leaving harsh sucks on your neck and clavicle along with Yuki. Two mouths on your body have you whimpering like a fool, so sensitive to their touch that you could wither away. “Hmm? Who loves you most, sweetie?” He comes down to your chest that’s occupied by Yuki’s worshipping hands, popping a nipple into his mouth to suck with care.

“Hahhh, you, Choso, my darling…” you sigh into the sense of his mouth licking diligently around your bud. Your face turns in Yuki’s direction, smiling at the golden-haired woman before claiming her lips. “And Yuki, my love…”

The two of you kiss slowly yet maintain the same passion you have for each other, noses brushing against each other and tongues swirling before smacking lips together. The brunette lifts his head from your chest, straightening his posture to insert his cockhead inside your vagina. You mewl into Yuki at the insertion, and it doesn’t stop as the woman slithers a hand to your clit to swipe. You break the kiss in a huff, making the blonde snicker. 

“Mmmph…Jesus Christ,” Choso trembles at the warm snug of your cunt as it accepts his length, pushing in for every inch of him to be swallowed in. When his base meets your southern lips, you hiss at how full you feel from his size. “You know how much we love you, right, baby?”

You nod to him, Yuki placing another hickey-worth kiss on your shoulder. “Your love makes me full, honey…Ohooo…!”

“And don’t forget that…” Choso snaps his hips, drilling his long dick into you and making precise hits to the walls of your chasm. You squeak beneath him, the tip of his cock poking your sweet spots with ease, and you’re gripping the sheets to keep you steady along with Yuki’s hold on you.

The blonde woman flickers her ruby eyes to Choso and beams, “You know you’re hot as hell when you’re all possessive, right?”

“Shut up,” he shushes her with a kiss, humming to her lips that reciprocate his feelings as lovers. The only noise that fills the room is your whines and wails from the hands fondling your body and the shaft plunging so far inside you that you can’t contain the ecstatic screams originating from your inner being. Good God, this felt so fucking good; being wanted and loved by these two is a sensation incomparable to anything. You want to drown in it, be immersed within it, have your senses be robbed of their very being until you fall deep into sleep in their embrace. This feels so worth it, so satisfying…

…Until you look at yourself in the mirror and find so many fucking hickeys all over your body, all the way from your neck to the grave of your thighs. This was not a sight to see after waking up, especially on the morning your friends from last night invited you over for brunch. 

Needless to say, you pulled your lovers aside and gave them an earful. The two nodded to your words, saying “Sorry…” throughout your rant as you tried to find an adequate outfit to conceal their markings, feeling a little bad that they got carried away with you last night.

All is good, in any case. Because now they know that you are theirs both in mind and body.

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[lockefanfic]

Truth

The following can be considered an alternate ending to the Business Trip series - although it can just as easily be read on its own. :)

---

The first few weeks together as an official couple were wonderful. Honeymoon phase and all that. Moving in together, domestic bliss. Fucking like rabbits, of course. But problems arose - became noticeable, and then unavoidable. Two of them, actually.

Problem 1: Your job.

Problem 2: Her job.

---

Problem 1: You’d thought business trips were a thing of the past. They weren’t.

You were happy to put the little adventure you’d had in Seoul and Tokyo behind you. Since then you’d done your best to decline any opportunities to engage in similar trips - feigning illness, sending underlings in your place, handling as many meetings as you could remotely. These days your life consisted of long, sometimes draining days at the office - a far cry from the brushes with danger and law enforcement that characterized your most recent trip overseas. Your days at work were boring and mundane now, but you were at home, and that was what mattered.

Home, after all, was where she was.

Regardless, the allure of another trip still came calling every now and then, tempting you, enticing you into spending a couple of weeks or months overseas where anything could - and sometimes did - happen. 

Sometimes that allure took physical form. Sometimes it came waltzing into your office wearing a tight blouse and a pencil skirt. Sometimes it was named Shin Ryujin. Other days it was named Hwang Yeji, or Lee Chaeryeong. Today, as with most days, it was named Shin Yuna.

“Ryujin and Yeji are on-site in Busan, and Chaeryeong is in Seoul, waiting for her flight to join them. Lia sustained injuries in our last operation and isn’t medically cleared for this one, but she’s recovering well. Ryujin has begin surveillance on our competitors’ teams - codenamed New Jeans and Le Sserafim - and she is ready to proceed with next steps once you arrive,” Yuna says, eagerness evident in the tone of her moderately Korean-accented english. “Shall I make travel arrangements for us to join them?”

For the first time since she walked into your office you look up from the reports on your laptop. You don’t miss the small bite the young woman is giving her lower lip, nor the way she has crossed her legs and begun leaning her wide hips against your desk. It takes more restraint than you were willing to admit not to steal a glance at her long pantyhose-clad legs and the tight charcoal pencil skirt they led to. You find the self-control to keep eye contact with your eager young executive assistant, even if her body language and tone of voice made her intentions clear and easy to read.

“Give me a second to finish reviewing Ryujin’s report,” you answer, returning your full attention to the screen in front of you. “I’ll confirm whether I need to be on-site by end of day, and if so you can make the necessary arrangements then.” 

Despite her best efforts, Yuna can’t hide the small twinge of disappointment that makes its way across her soft features. She’d been looking forward to the thirteen hour flight with you and the opportunities it would present.

“Oh, and…” she begins, her tone a little less upbeat now that you’d at least temporarily dampened her excitement. “You have a visitor. It’s Detective-”

“Let her in,” you interrupt. Yuna frowns, offers a short bow - a lingering habit from her Korean upbringing - and steps back toward the door to your office. She swings it open, and you catch the look of disdain on her features when she waves in your visitor.

Im Nayeon pushes past Yuna and into the office. She gives Yuna a sharp look as she passes the younger woman, and even from your chair you can sense the venom in it. The detective sits down in the chair opposite your desk, legs and arms crossed. She is dressed plainly, in a short denim skirt and a leather jacket, the glimmer of her badge on a chain around her neck the only clue as to her profession. She drops a large paper bag onto your desk.

“Please let me know if you need anything else, sir-”

“That will be all, Yuna,” you answer. 

Before your executive assistant has a chance to close the door, Nayeon turns her head and squeezes in one last shot.

“Cancel his next hour, Miss-” 

“My name is Yuna,” the young woman at the door answers, crossing her arms, scowl painted on her lips.

“Whatever,” Nayeon retorts, flatly. “Clear his schedule for the next hour. Oh, and do be a dear and lock the door.”

Out of the corner of your eye you catch two things - the barely restrained scoff on Yuna’s lips, and the satisfied sneer on Nayeon’s. With one last look of scorn directed at the back of the detective’s head, the younger Korean woman closes the door with a little more force than was necessary. The click of the lock engaging follows shortly after, as does the heavier than usual click-clack of her heels as she stomps away in obvious irritation.

“You have a thing for executive assistants with hips,” Nayeon observes. “Although this one’s much more of a brat than the last one.”

“Be nice,” you say, although you can’t keep the smirk from appearing on your lips as you continue to scroll through the report on your laptop. “She grew up in Korea, so she’s useful whenever I’m in-country. And she’s not a bad person.”

“I know,” Nayeon relents. “But the more of a cunt I am to her, the more she gets off on being a little fucktoy for you. I bet she gets off on thinking that you’re fucking her without me knowing. I bet it makes her so wet.”

Your smirk turns into a slim smile, and it becomes difficult to keep your eyes on the report in front of you.

“Am I wrong?” she contests.

“No,” you admit, finally turning to give her your full attention. “In fact, I’m about to hop on a plane with her to Korea in a couple of days. I expect it will be an… eventful flight.”

“Good,” Nayeon states, satisfied. “I bet she’ll be a good little girl for you, now that she’s received another reminder of how much you need some time away from your queen bitch of a girlfriend.”

She smiles - this one warm, soft - the smile that caught you in its clutches all those years ago and never let go. She turns momentarily to face the door.

“Oh, yeah, baby, fuck, you’re so big in me, fuck me! Fuck, this is the best dick I’ve ever had!” she exclaims in faux-pleasure, ensuring she was loud enough for the exasperated executive assistant sitting just outside your door to hear. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“We can fuck at home later. I just wanted to piss her off,” Nayeon admits, a sly smile on her lips. “Anyway, pull up House of the Dragon?”

“Already on it,” you answer, swinging your laptop screen around so you can both watch. Nayeon pulls containers of take-out sushi from the paper bag.

She swaps your salmon for her tamago.

She leans over your desk as she passes you your chopsticks. She gives you a warm kiss, and the smile she leaves on your lips stays there for the rest of the day.

---

Even after all these years, she never tired of the collar and its leash.

It was showing signs of wear, of course - the bright fire engine red had faded into a softer, paler shade, the chain was no longer as shiny, and there was more than one set of her teeth marks on it from particularly frisky sessions - but she never missed a chance to put it on when the mood struck, and you never missed a chance to put it on her.

For now you are content to let the chain dangle freely in your left hand, watching the light streaming in from the open window as it plays on its metallic links. The chain glimmers in the morning light against her pale, creamy skin, swaying and occasionally bouncing along with her movements.

The chair you are sitting on protests with the weight and movement the both of you make atop it. Her soft sighs and gasps - a far cry from the loud shouts and moans you knew she was well capable of - happily cancel out the furniture’s squeaking protests as she rides you atop it. Soft, sensual, slow. The perfect fuck for a perfect morning.

You do your best to just sit there and savour the moment, letting Nayeon do all the work as she grinded back and forth on your lap. As much as you enjoyed watching her bounce up and down atop you, taking your full length in and out of her body - taking special delight in the delicious bounce it gave her breasts and thighs - there was something to be said for the intimacy of the way she was riding you now, slowly and softly. It gave her a chance to grind her slick, swollen clit against your crotch, and while it only let a third or so of your cock slip in and out of her hot, slippery cunt with each entry and exit, each movement nonetheless caused a warm spike of pleasure to course up your spine as your cock moves around inside her.

She was so beautiful, so utterly ethereal and intensely erotic all at the same time - clothed simultaneously in perfect golden sunlight and slick sweat, saliva, and other fluids. She was ethereal beauty and dirty sex. She wore both, was utterly enrapturing in both, was equally comfortable in both.

You watch each movement of her body - a body you knew well, knew every peak and curve and valley of - and you never tired of it. You watch as her round, full thighs flex and work, as her tight core drives her lower body back and forth, as her small, perfect breasts sway and bounce. Her face is immaculate, soft features twisted and wracked by pleasure. Sweat glistens over all of it. It makes her perfect skin glisten and glimmer in the sunlight.

You take a moment to look over her shoulder at the dressing mirror behind her, relishing the sight of her back - the beautiful curve of her spine and the sweat dripping down that delicious valley; the round cheeks of her ass and the muscles beneath them as they work to fuck herself on your cock; the short glimpses of your balls as she moves back and forth, takes you in and out of her body. Even her hair, having started the morning pulled into a messy bun, has become disheveled and loose - but in a way that is enticing and alluring, glued to the back of her neck and upper shoulders by perspiration.

Your right hand, resting on her thigh, snakes a path up her body - up her chiselled abs, cupping a soft breast and delighting in the tightness of her nipple as you capture it with your thumb and index finger and give it a pull, a twist, a pinch. Her pussy pulsates in response around you. She is sighing and moaning her pleasure when your hand continues its journey, sliding up a sweaty neck until you reach the side of her face.

Her eyes, shut, drift open at your touch. 

You give the chain a jerk forward.

Her entire upper body crashes against yours at the sudden pull at her neck. Your lips find and capture hers, and for a few moments you share a passionate, heavy kiss. As your tongues duel you give her a slight thrust upward with your hips, timed to meet the apex of her grind - and she sighs into your mouth at the movement, eyes shutting again, nails digging into your shoulders.

Spurred by her reaction, you continue to thrust upward as best you can given your sitting position. Her cunt, already so wet and slick and hot, clenches around you with each thrust, welcoming you, taking you.

“Oh god,” she sighs, the first full words either of you have spoken in a while. “Oh god, I’m close-“

Her sentence breaks into a moan, a soft, wordless cry of pleasure as you continue your thrusts upwards into her body. She wraps her arms around your shoulders, burying your face against her warm, moist chest. You lick the sweat from between her dangling breasts. You savour each moan that leaves her mouth, heavy and hot, directly into your ears.

The chain drops from your left hand, its end falling with a soft clink onto the hardwood floor of your apartment. Forgotten for now, because the faux, pretend-ownership it represented was no longer needed, was perhaps never necessary.

She orgasms around you - pussy clenching, lungs emptying of breath as she cries her pleasure into your bedroom. Your hands find themselves clutching at her moist, sweaty back, hugging her to you, bringing your bodies as close together as possible.

“Your cum, inside me,” she hisses, her voice soft and almost vulnerable in your ear, still at the height of her orgasm. “Please, I want, I need it, please.”

Im Nayeon knew you - knew every part of what made you tick. She knew what you wanted to hear, knew when you wanted to hear it.

You thrust upward into her clenching, creamy cunt one last time. Every part of her body surrounds you, wraps itself around you: she buries your head into her chest, fingers interwoven into your hair, cradling you with her arms and legs as her cunt clenches and tightens around your cock. 

Your shaft spurts warm, thick cum into her. She lets a sigh leave her breathless lips with each pulse of your cock inside her, knowing each one was another rope of cum that would bind your bodies even further together.

Your fluids mix inside her, eventually sliding out between the pussy lips stretched tight around the base of your cock. It drips down your shaft, your balls, and onto the chair. You are sticky everywhere - on your sweaty chests, your slick thighs, but especially where you are joined together, your shaft still embedded hilt deep inside her. You are glued together, made one.

You sigh into her chest, and the nails that had dug furrows into your scalp now stroke it softly. The exhaustion hits you both at once, and for a few wonderful moments the only sound either of you can hear is the sound of heavy breathing.

Her hands eventually slide from your scalp. Her turn now to cradle your face in her hands. Your faces hover in front of each other, noses barely touching, half-lidded, pleasure-ridden eyes locked on one another.

For a moment her left hand moves to her neck, where she undoes and releases the clasp of the red leather collar. It slips from her body and falls to the floor.

“I belong to you,” she says, breathless, not needing some scrap of leather around her neck to convince you of it - not that she ever needed such a thing to begin with. Her hands cradle your face, palms on each cheek, like you are the most delicate thing in the world. Your arms wrap themselves even tighter around her soft, trembling torso. Your foreheads touch, your eyes close.

“I know,” you answer. “I always have.”

Later that morning, when she is snoring peacefully, you slip out of the bed. Your flight to Korea wasn’t until later that afternoon, and so you had some time to spare before you had to leave the house, and her, for god knew how long. Every part of you wanted to lie there in bed with her and savour every moment of it, not knowing when you’d next be able to do so - but you had decided the night before that something needed to be done, and there was no better time to do it.

You fire up the coffee maker - you’d both settled into specific domestic roles since moving in together, and you were almost immediately appointed Minister of Caffeinated Beverages - and take a seat at the kitchen island with your laptop.

A few minutes later, and you’d begun an email to JYP informing him of your intention to resign your position following the end of your next business trip.

Distance had taken her from you once, and it wouldn’t do it again.

---

“Is she being a good girl?”

“Yes, Nayeon,” you say, your answer somewhere between a sigh and a hiss as you press your phone close to your ear, ensuring only you could hear the voice on the other side of the call. You made sure to use her name, as she’d previously suggested, knowing what hearing it would do to the young woman you were currently sharing a hotel room with. 

Between your legs, Yuna gives the tip of your cock a swirl with the end of her tongue. Those large doe eyes glance up at you, the mention of your girlfriend’s name giving the topless young woman a small spike of wicked delight. You watch with a measure of your own satisfaction as she pumps your cock with one hand, the other fondling her own small, round breast and the tight nipple atop it. After a moment her hand drifts down her body, between her legs - and soon after she begins to sigh and moan around a mouthful of your shaft as she begins to pleasure herself.

“Good,” Nayeon continues. “I told you she would be. Did you fuck her on the plane, too?”

“Yes, we’ve started the operation. And yeah, Korea’s hot this time of year,” you say, keeping up the false pretence you both agreed upon.

“Let me guess - she’s on her knees? Are you fucking that pretty little mouth of hers?”

“Not yet,” you answer, “I think I’ll let the team continue to observe before we move.” Your eyes drift closed as the pleasure begins to build. You lean your head back slightly as the young woman between your knees increases her pace. What Yuna lacked in experience and technique, she more than made up for with enthusiasm.

On the line, you hear a soft sigh. A moment later, the sigh turns into a barely audible moan.

“What about you?” you ask. “Are you busy? How’s work?”

“Fine. I’m… alone. In a squad car.”

“On a stakeout?”

“We prefer the term ‘distanced surveillance,’ but yes, a stakeout.”

“You miss me?”

“Fuck,” you hear, followed by a soft hum. “Yes, I miss you,” she admits.

A thousand miles away, you smirk. The image of Nayeon alone, in her car, in an alleyway, a hand down her pants, touching herself to the sound of her boyfriend getting head from another woman - it aroused you more than the young woman between your knees, truth be told.

“Do you… miss me?” she asks.

You reach out with your free hand, cradling the side of Yuna’s head, running your fingertips through the bright red strands. She redoubles her efforts at your touch - she quickens her pace, her hand squeezing tighter around your shaft as her head continues to bob up and down its length.

“Fuck, I want you right now, Nayeon,” you hiss, knowing what repeating her name would do to the younger woman filling her mouth with your shaft. “I wish you were here.”

Between your legs, the moan Yuna lets out around your cock sends a delicious pulse of pleasure up your spine. On the line, Nayeon lets a similar moan escape her lips. 

“Tell me what you would do to me,” Nayeon says, tone low and deep, the way it was when she was desperate, needy. “I bet she’d do it for you.”

You bite your lip for a second - listening to Nayeon’s increasingly breathless sighs and picturing her becoming a writhing, wet little mess in her car, watching Yuna try and fail to wrest your attention away - taking it all in, savouring every second of the two women, a thousand miles apart, each doing their best to pleasure you in their own way.

“I’d pull your mouth off my cock,” you say, gripping the base of Yuna’s ponytail and easing her off your shaft. She looks up with you with those large doe eyes of hers, momentarily confused, temporarily disappointed at the sudden emptiness in her mouth - until she quickly catches on to your intentions.

“Mmm, more,” Nayeon says, on the verge of a plea.

“I’d tell you to strip, and get your cunt on my cock like a good little girl.”

And just as she predicted, Yuna does exactly that - peels off ridiculously short denim shorts she wore, along with the flimsy scrap of string beneath it that passed for a thong. She climbs atop you, straddles your waist, reaches between your bodies, grasps your slick cock and spends just a second rubbing your head against her dripping, slick lips.

And then she takes you inside her. On the line, Nayeon hears that unmistakable gasp you made whenever you entered her own cunt, and it drives her crazy. Her fingers work quickly between her legs. 

A thousand miles away, you watch as Yuna bounces her young, tight little body on your cock - up and down, up and down, up and down. She is rough, fast, impatient, with little technique but plenty of need. 

Your free hand grips a thigh before snaking up her torso, gripping a soft, bouncing breast and pinching the taut nipple between two fingers and giving it a slight slap from the side that elicits a yelp of pleasure from the young woman. Your cock stretches her tight little cunt with each entry, filling her up, making her need more, want more, making her lose her control over her senses - not that she had much to begin with.

She is enthusiastic, needy - but she is clumsy in her movements, inexperienced, drunk on the idea of being used and fucked and not possessing the control to savour the moment, make it anything more memorable than a messy, quick fuck.

She sighs and moans. “Daddy,” she gasps, uncaring now of being heard on the line, forgetting that you were supposed to be fucking her on the down low, under your girlfriend’s nose. “Daddy please, I need… Daddy please, your cum, inside me, I want-”

You remind her of her place by closing your hand around her throat. Not enough to cause pain, but enough to remind her of what she was - a fucktoy. Something to warm your cock while you were apart from the woman you really wanted. A substitute for a woman a thousand miles away.

“Is she… is she good for you?” Nayeon asks, voice betraying the fact that she was bringing herself to the edge. She’s wet and squirming and sighing - but she’s alone, in her car, far away. 

Her fingers aren’t you.

Yuna continues to fuck herself on your cock, recklessly and wildly, her orgasm doing little to slow or stop her. You watch as she bites down hard on her lower lip, enough to draw blood, doing her best to keep herself from vocalizing the pleasure coursing through her body and only partially succeeding. You knew she’d be especially loud once you’d ended the call. You consider pretending to end it but leaving the line open, just to give Nayeon the satisfaction of hearing what Shin Yuna sounded like when she was being bent over the bed and having her tight little pussy pounded full of cum.

Your fingers tighten around Yuna’s neck as she bounces with an increasingly wild pace atop your cock. It forces her to slow down, forces her to submit to you and your needs. It reminds her of her place, reminds her who she was. It was necessary.

A makeshift leash. 

“She’s good, Nayeon,” you admit. “But she’s not you.”

---

“Alright, I have to admit - she’s pretty fucking perfect for you.”

“There’s something I never thought I’d hear you say,” you admit, looking up from your laptop and the report on it to give Shin Yuna a look. The young woman is lounging about on her stomach your hotel room bed, picking away at a plate of room service french fries. She’d taken a shower, but hadn’t bothered to put her clothes back on after you’d bent her over the bed and fucked a load into her.

“She’s a bitch, don’t get me wrong,” she continues, tone casual, as though she weren’t naked on her boss’ hotel room bed with his cum still warm inside her. “But she’s really fucking pretty, and she’s a cop? Man. That’s a dream girl for most guys, you have to admit.”

“I suppose,” you say, flatly. “Where are you going with this, Yuna?”

“Nowhere,” she answers, popping another fry into her mouth. “I was just curious, I guess.”

“About?”

“About why you’re not married yet. About why there aren’t little hellspawn baby versions of her running around in your life.”

The thought is finally enough to wrest your attention from the report for good. You give the young woman atop your bed a look.

“Listen, I think it’s hot as fuck to be some exec’s fucktoy,” Yuna continues. “I just want to make sure I’m not the thing that’s keeping him from marrying the love of his life or some shit.”

“You’re not stopping anything, Yuna,” you state, clearly, ensuring that she didn’t form any wrong impressions. You certainly didn’t want her to overestimate her role in your life. “Trust me,” you add.

“So then what is stopping you? You’re in love, aren’t you?” Yuna continues. “I’ve heard all about your past with her from the company grapevine, and Dahyun filled me in on the rest. College sweethearts finding each other again in a foreign land after so long apart - that’s cute as fuck. So why isn’t there a ring on her finger and a baby in her belly?”

You are struck temporarily wordless by your executive assistant’s forwardness, but the answer comes to you eventually.

“We’re not ready yet,” you state.

Yuna seems satisfied with your answer - or at least, isn’t curious enough to pursue it further. She gives you a shrug before she picks up her phone and begins to scroll on it. “Whatever you say, boss,” she says.

You return your attention to your laptop, and the resignation email to JYP that was sitting in your drafts. Sending it would mean leaving a career that, in many ways, had defined you. Yes, it had played a major role in bringing Nayeon back into your life, but were you really ready to give up the adventures in distant lands, not to mention all the romance and intrigue and excitement said adventures brought with them? 

Your cursor hovers over the send icon.

—

Problem 2: Her job.

As it turned out, JYP was more than happy to do whatever it took to keep you with the company - even if it meant giving you a tidy little promotion along with a promise to make any further business trips entirely optional. That was Problem 1 solved, then - leaving only Problem 2.

For the most part, Nayeon did a good job of keeping her work at work and not taking it home with her. Every now and then she’d vent about a particularly hard case she was on, or tell you about how something an actor did in a movie or tv show was wildly inaccurate compared to standard law enforcement procedures in the real world. By and large you could almost forget that she was a senior detective who regularly found herself in situations the average person might consider dangerous.

This was all to say that you only rarely gave Nayeon’s profession any thought, had you not noticed the breaking news report playing on the large TV screen in the JYP lobby on your way back from lunch one afternoon.

A reporter, apparently on scene, is speaking into the camera - but the TV is muted, and the captions are not turned on. Behind him civilians flee from a building under the guidance of two understandably anxious-looking uniformed police officers with their sidearms drawn. “Active hostage situation underway at downtown bank,” read the ticker. “Multiple hostages and casualties reported.” 

You were ready to give it no further thought aside from a passing sense of disappointment at the general state of crime in your country, had you not caught a fleeting glimpse of her on the screen.

In the background, behind the reporter, Nayeon steps into frame, her back to the camera - but it was unmistakably her. She flashes the badge around her neck to the two uniformed cops nervously holding the bank entrance door.

You watch as she draws her sidearm from the holster at her hip, racks the slide to chamber a round, and rushes into the building.

--

To say the next few hours were absolutely nerve wracking would be an understatement. 

Yes, you’d known that danger and the possibility of being hurt were part and parcel of being a member of active law enforcement. You were in the room when she was quite literally shot at close range in Seoul - a few layers of kevlar being the only thing that kept her from bleeding out on a dirty apartment floor.

You’d done your best to avoid having to deal with the reality that your girlfriend had a relatively dangerous profession. Maybe it was a subconscious thing - maybe your brain knew that living every day in fear of your girlfriend losing her life was not exactly conducive to a healthy relationship - or a healthy mental state.

Whatever the reason, it didn’t really hit home until that day. You’d never been so worried in your life, staying glued to the TV and your phone and news sites, pacing nervously alone in your apartment, grasping for any snippet of an update that would confirm she was okay, that she was safe. Needless to say she wasn’t picking up her phone, and a call to her precinct lieutenant went unanswered. 

You’d learn later that she was never in any actual danger - the gunfire she’d heard turned out to be warning shots fired into the ceiling to intimidate the bank staff. Nayeon, who’d been passing by the building randomly on her lunch break, had decided that civilians were in immediate danger and entered the bank on her own volition, cleared out the remaining customers from the bank lobby, and held down the hallway leading to the safety deposit boxes where the suspects were holed up until SWAT arrived. 

As the first responder to the scene, protocol demanded she remain on-site until it was resolved, explaining the length of her absence. She wasn’t actually in danger for very long, she’d later insist.

But she knew none of that when she rushed into the building, gun in hand. For all she’d known there could have easily been a suspect pointing an assault rifle down the hallway, finger on the trigger, just waiting for an eager young detective to stray into his sights. Moreover, her nine millimetre sidearm and lack of kevlar would’ve put her in a precarious position had they decided to make an escape using force.

Nonetheless, you were more relieved than you’d ever been in your life when she finally called to tell you she was on her way home - eight hours and forty-nine minutes since you’d made your first unanswered call to her cell phone (the first of thirty). 

Your heart let out the breath it had been holding for nine hours.

---

When she finally got home it was a lot, all at once. 

It was relief, mostly, and then reassurance, and comfort, followed shortly by an irresistible, intense lust. Danger never failed to get Im Nayeon going.

Within seconds of bursting through the door she was already on you, arms wrapped around your neck as yours wrapped around hers, lips searching for and quickly pulling yours into a deep, passionate kiss. Her leather jacket quickly leaves her body, her fingers immediately going to work on your button-up. While this hurried undressing was happening, when your lips parted long enough to draw in a breath, she’d tried, in broken sentences, to fill you in on what had happened.

You pieced enough together from her jumbled words to get an idea of how her day went, and how she wasn’t allowed to contact you until the incident was resolved. You wanted to ask her more, wanted to know more about what exactly happened, but she was in no mood for talking. Her lips and tongue stole the words and questions from your mouth before you could give them voice.

You are naked before long, stumbling into the bedroom and leaving behind a trail of haphazardly discarded clothing. She pushes you onto the bed with more force than you were ready for - silencing any objections by quickly climbing atop you, straddling your lap as you sit on its edge. Your mouths find each other and your tongues continue their frantic duel. Before long you slip from her lips to kiss a rough trail down her neck and to her chest.

You capture a breast in your mouth, closing your lips around her taut nipple. “Fuck,” she gasps, her hands quickly burying themselves in your hair, nails digging almost painfully into your scalp as you suckle from her tight bud.

A small part of you wants to slow down - perhaps even stop altogether - and tell her how damn worried you were for her, how the last nine hours were the longest nine hours you’d ever had in your life. But she steals your words again, this time with some of her own.

“Hard,” she hisses between gritted teeth, “I want it hard.”

She reaches between you, points your tip at her dripping entrance, and takes you inside her.

The long, hot sigh that escapes your lips finally rips them from her nipple. For the next few minutes you are powerless to do more than breathe heavily between her breasts as she rides you - those toned, full thighs of her working to throw her body up and down your shaft, taking you in and out of her tight, warm little cunt.

“Nayeon, I-” you begin, finally finding the wherewithal after a few minutes to look up at her.

She silences you with a finger to your lips. Her eyes are half-lidded, but hungry.

“Shut up,” she spits. “Just shut up.”

You were not one to argue, not when you were balls deep inside the most beautiful woman you’d ever known. And so you content yourself with watching as Nayeon took her pleasure from your body, using your cock like a toy, impaling herself with it over and over again until she became a mewling, moaning mess atop your lap.

You grasp her thighs, squeeze her bouncing breasts and tease the nipples atop them, slide your hand up her chest and up her throat and to her jaw before sliding your thumb between her lips for her to suck as you cradle the side of her pleasure-filled face - and throughout it all she rides you, pace relentless, merciless, hard.

Soon she is cumming - and she shows no sign of stopping, fucking herself through her orgasm even as her body is wracked by pleasure. She trembles, shakes, and quivers atop you - but it doesn’t stop her, doesn’t come close to fulfilling her immense need. She wants more. She needs more. 

Even as her orgasm radiates throughout her body and turns her into a wet, writhing mess, you hold her tight to you as you turn her over, putting her on her back atop the bed while you rise to your feet next to it. You wrap her legs around your waist, pull her hips onto yours, and continue to fuck her - hard, fast, rough.

She sighs and moans and cries and you are content to let her, content to let out some of the frustration and worry and fear you’d held inside you for most of the day on her tight, helpless little body. Her breasts bounce deliciously atop her heaving chest. Her fingers are claws, finding purchase wherever she can - on the bedsheets and your forearms, mostly. Eventually she reaches down and fingers her own clit, even as your cock pumps in and out between the lips of her cunt, just beyond her fingertips. Her eyes spur you on - telling you to keep fucking her, keep using her, all without saying a single word.

Your hands leave her hips, pulling on her legs until her calves are atop your shoulders. You continue to pound into her all along, this new position leaving her cunt open and exposed, rendering her helpless to do anything but take each hard, fast thrust you make into her body. It is almost callous, the way you fuck her, as though she were some whore and not the love of your life. You use her cunt. You make it yours, remind her who it belonged to. 

Her moans build, rising in volume and signalling another impending orgasm. You want to join her, and are about to give in, about to fill her-

“My ass,” she gasps. “Fuck my ass.”

She pulls her sweaty, still trembling body off you, denying you the warm slickness of her cunt. Her pussy drips onto the bedsheets as she wastes no time, getting atop the bed on her knees, upper body pressed against the bed. She reaches back with her hands, palming the cheeks of her ass, spreading them apart, showing you what she’d been keeping inside her.

And there it is, red silicone, glistening and slick with lube.

The sight of it takes your breath away. You let an unexpected sigh of pleasure leave your lips as you grasp the toy with your fingers, easing it out of her body slowly. She moans as it leaves her, perhaps in pain or pleasure or both. Soon it’s finally out. Every molecule in her body yearns to replace its absence.

Grasping your cock, slick and wet with her juices, you press the tip against her open, gaping hole - and begin to slide inside her.

You’d had her ass before, but never after she’d had a plug inside her, and it is sublime. Her ass immediately closes and tightens around you, and you think right then and there that you might cum. Your hand clutches her ass and left hip, fingers digging deep into the soft, yielding flesh, relishing the pleasure coursing through your veins but fighting it before it gets too intense, wanting to prolong this moment. She sighs and moans as she adjusts to your size. She trembles at the feeling of her ass being filled.

“Mmmm,” she hisses into the sheets, evidently having lost the ability to form words. She reaches back as far as she can with a free hand, her long fingers clutching your thigh. She pulls you toward her, and you oblige, pressing yourself as deep as you can until you are hilt deep.

“Do it,” she spits from between gritted teeth, “Fuck my ass. Hard.”

And so you begin - fucking Im Nayeon’s ass with hard, long strokes, using her tight, hot hole with the same tempo and speed as you did her cunt just moments earlier. She moans and shrieks and gasps into the sheets, the side of her face pressed against the bed, saliva dripping from a slack mouth. Her fingers are claws, digging into the sheets or your thighs or both, searching for something, anything, to ground herself amidst the constant pounding into the most vulnerable part of her body.

“Fuck, Nayeon,” you say, your brain unable to form much more than a curse and her name. She is so tight, so very hot - and she’d ensured the toy was well lubed before it entered her, so she was slick enough to make every entry and exit so delicious, so utterly sublime; a perfect cocktail of pleasure and pain all mixed into one irresistible sensation.

For the first time in a while Nayeon lifts her head from the bed, sweat pasting dark strands to the side of her face. She opens her mouth to say something-

But you reach forward, grasping her by the back of her neck, and slamming her back down onto the bed. She shrieks - partially in surprise, mostly in pleasure - as you resume pounding her.

“Shut up,” you spit. “Just shut up.”

The thick cotton bedsheets can do little to hide the long, deep moan of pleasure that leaves Nayeon’s lips as you impose yourself on her. She continues, not stopping for a moment, letting a drivel of wordless pleasure leave her mouth with each thrust you make into her body. She reaches a hand down, plays with her wet, slick clit even as you pound relentlessly into her ass - pleasuring her, hurting her - either way, making her yours.

The hand at her neck doesn’t leave her - it merely moves to her upper back, still keeping her pinned to the mattress, making sure she could do nothing more than take you. She lets you. She gives herself to you, lets you do what you want to her, because this - a rough, hard fuck - was what she wanted, what she craved.

It doesn’t take her long to orgasm, with her fingers on her clit and your cock pounding hard into her asshole. She tightens even more around you. She screams her pleasure into the bedsheets.

She clenches around your cock when she cums. It sends you over the edge, and you push yourself as deep as you can into Im Nayeon’s ass before you cum, filling her depths with thick, hot semen. Her moans turn into whimpers and then sobs, and you think for a moment that she might be crying.

You want to stay there, as you often did after you came inside her. You want to relish the moment and the sight of your cock embedded inside her ass and the feeling of her body wrapped around yours. But the accumulated physical and mental exhaustion of the day hit you all at once, and you collapse atop her, your arms only barely keeping you from crashing onto her back as you land on your elbows, still hilt-deep inside her.

You find the strength to bring your mouth to her ear. Filthy sex and dirty fucking aside, she had to know.

“I belong to you,” you say.

“I know,” she answers. Beneath the sweaty, messy hair and heavy breaths, Nayeon smiles.

—

The next morning, while you are still asleep, she wakes up early to make breakfast. She rarely cooked - every food delivery driver within a ten mile radius knew how to get to your apartment by heart - but when she did it was for special occasions. Or, in this case, a form of apology for making you worry so much the day before.

She’s stumbling towards the kitchen - she was understandably more than a little sore in places that made walking difficult - when she catches a glimpse of her old criminology textbooks on the hallway bookshelf. 

She was a fairly sentimental person, and despite your efforts she wouldn’t get rid of the old, heavy texts. She insisted that they were a part of what made her who she was, and wanted to keep them as a reminder of how far she’d come in her career; privately, she kept them to remind herself of those hard months when you’d left to join JYP all those years ago, and how much she missed being away from you. Those months were difficult, and she’d turned to her career as a way of coping. Those months were instrumental in putting her on the path to becoming a detective, but they were also part of what drove her to Seoul to find you.

A thought strikes her as her eyes take in titles of the texts. She reaches out and lets her fingertips graze their worn covers, seeing in them a way to ensure her career would never worry you so much again.

---

And so the problems were solved. All it took was a few uncomfortable emails, a few months of occasionally stressful worrying and intense interviews, and two new job offers. Easy peasy.

You’d taken a job at a branch office of JYP that promised travel would be completely optional. Nayeon had quit the PD and become a professor in criminology at a local college. You’d moved out of the small downtown apartment that had been the home you’d shared for the past five years, and into a slightly more comfortable townhouse in the suburbs.

Time passed. Good days and bad days. She was there for all of them, making the good days sweeter and the bad days more bearable. She was home. Safe harbour and north star for each other.

You are both sitting in a cafe on a lazy Sunday morning - you’re reading a book and nursing a coffee while she’s grading some papers on her laptop. You loved many things about your relationship, but one of the things you appreciated the most was how comfortable you both were in silence. The years had given you both a familiarity that had often transcended the need for speaking. Most of the time, you knew what the other was thinking, even before they spoke.

Your presence was enough, and there was no need to fill the space between you with words for the sake of it.

After awhile you look up to her to find that she’d been watching you, apparently for some time.

“I think we’re ready,” she says, a warm, soft smile on her lips. 

She says no more, returning her attention to her laptop, but you know what she means.

You smile as you return to your book.

---

Im Nayeon could always surprise you.

You’d had her more times than you could count, but this night was different - it was important, special in a way none of the in-shower quickies or weekend-long marathon sessions were. Just when you’d thought sex and lovemaking could hold no more surprises, you are proven wrong.

“It’s you,” she sighs into your ear, her voice soft, still filled with pleasure, but with an undercurrent of emotion that you’d never heard in her before. One of her arms wraps itself around your back, the other buried into the hair at the back of your neck as you thrust in and out of her body. 

“Cum inside me,” she continues, breathless, words spilling from her lips in a long, drawn out hiss. “Fill me up. It has to be you. Breed me, put a baby in my belly. I want it- I want you. It has to be you. It’s only ever been you.”

“Nayeon,” you say into her ear, and when she replies with your own name you think it is the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard in your life. 

She is tight, wet, hot - she feels every bit as good as she did when you were teenagers fumbling awkwardly in an old dorm room, or when you were reunited old flames brought together by fate in Seoul, or when you moved in together and decided to build lives together. But it means more now. It means more now than it ever did.

“Give me a baby,” she says, half-moan, half-sigh. “Breed me, make me yours.”

Words you’d heard before, from the same lips, on many another night. But none like tonight, not when she meant them more than she ever did - this wasn’t pillow talk, an act meant to spice up a risqué encounter; no, this was much more. She meant every word, without pretence or facade. She meant it all.

“Nayeon,” you repeat, unable to say much else. The sound of her name on your lips draws a sigh from hers, sends a quiver up her spine that is pure pleasure and love. 

“It has to be you,” she whispers into your ear, the most intimate words she has ever spoken. “It was always you - I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say, every molecule of your body shouting the words, even if they left your lips as little more than a light gasp.

You thrust between her spread legs, and she wraps her thighs and arms around you, making the two of you into one. 

You fill her. She sighs, moans - and when your cheeks press against each other as you both lie there, breathing heavily - you can feel her cheeks pull her lips into a smile.

---

“It was always going to be you and me, wasn’t it?”

You are caught a little off-guard by her words - truth be told your mind was solely fixated on the humble sign outside your favourite sushi restaurant and the familiar but delicious culinary delights that awaited you. It’s a Friday night, and you were looking forward to a quiet dinner with her following a long, draining week of work. 

The choice of dining establishment was a foregone conclusion, and you had nothing on your mind other than settling into a simple but comforting meal with her. Grand statements of destined love weren't exactly on your mind - not this early in the evening, anyway.

But when you turn to her and find a soft, warm smile on her lips, you couldn’t help but agree. She doesn’t even turn to look at you - her gaze, like yours, is locked on the old, dingy, familiar restaurant sign.

“Yes,” you answer, the word leaving your lips quickly, almost on instinct, almost on reflex, as though your body knew the truth - knew what you felt, in your innermost core. “It was always going to be you, Nayeon.”

She doesn’t turn her head to look at you. There is a slight deepening of the smile on her lips, a slightly deeper blush on her cheeks, but that’s it. She doesn’t need to read your face to verify or discern the truth in your expression. She is confident enough -  in the years you’ve spent together, in the trials and tribulations borne at each others’ side, to know the truth in your words.

She feels it in the way you clutch her hand, the way you hold her close in your most intimate moments, the way you brush stray hairs away from her forehead when you kiss her good morning before heading out the door to work. 

She sees it in the slight swell in her belly, and the family you were building together.

She knows all this. She feels it all, deep inside herself where nothing else exists except you and her and the home you’ve built with shared memories. She knows it is all true, always will be.

When you enter the restaurant you are greeted warmly with a smile and hug by the waiter - he’s become a good friend in the years since your escapades in Tokyo and Seoul. From behind the counter, Jisoo looks up from her prep work to wave and smile widely. She leaves the counter for a moment to greet you both, revealing the full roundness of her belly. She waddles awkwardly over, exchanging hugs, confirming plans for next week’s gender reveal dinner party for their child.

With one hand, Nayeon cradles Jisoo’s full belly. Perhaps unconsciously, her free hand hovers over her own, a warm, thoughtful smile on her lips.

Eventually, Jisoo shuffles adorably back to the counter to finish her vegetable prep, promising to come back later to chat. The waiter shows you to your table, leaving you both two cups of tea. 

He doesn’t leave a menu, because he already knows your order.

You tap the chest pocket of your jacket as you take it off and drape it over the back of your seat, making sure the small box and the engagement ring within were still there.

Nayeon cups her tea in both hands before taking a small sip. She finally locks eyes with you, although she doesn’t say anything. She knows she doesn’t have to. She’s content just to smile, content to reach her hand over the table, palm up, wanting nothing more than to feel your hand in hers.

Maybe she knew what was coming. Maybe she caught a glimpse of the box in your nightstand drawer, or noticed an open tab on your browser for a local jewelry store. Maybe she read it in your face at some point today, in the way you moved or the words you chose. She was a former detective and current professor of criminology, after all. She’d made a living out of reading people, and to her, you were an open book.

But it didn’t matter whether she knew it was coming or not, whether she would be surprised at all when, at the end of your meal, you got down on one knee in this restaurant where your relationship began and asked her to spend the rest of her life with you.

Because you both already knew, on some level had always known. It was always going to be you and her. And every trial and tribulation, every painful relationship with long-gone lovers, every day apart - it had all led to tonight.

Nayeon’s hand finds yours and your fingers intertwine.

Your heart warms at her touch.

---

Author’s Note: Good to be back ^^ Excuse any writing rust that was evident in this fic :( I actually had this alternate ending to BT mostly written awhile ago, but I'd been thinking about coming back to writing again and Nayeon's comeback gave me all the inspiration I needed to finally finish it.

Shoutout to @capslocked, whose work played a part in getting me back into writing. A special shoutout to his Tzuyu fic, which is probably one of my favorite smuts of all time - and I might have borrowed the phone sex idea from it. Love ya bud. Mimosa fic next pls k thx.

Stories and posts will be few and far between, but you’re always welcome to leave an ask. Thank you all for the love and support you've shown me over the past year. <3

[peachdues]

Bundle of Joy -- Part 2

Here it is!

I was not expecting Bundle of Joy to get as much love as it did, so thank you all for your kind words! It's a long one.

Read Part One here and the Prequel One-Shot here

CW: blood, some NSFW-esque content, swearing, angry Sanemi, soft Sanemi. Description of birth.

Tag list: @animeblog123 @fujochann @bonten-boys @tom01ka @theawkwardblackbee @stuckinthewrongworld @harpy-space

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Sanemi had been pissed when his crow had swooped over his head two days earlier, the little cretin squawking at him to head “Head East! Head East!” To kill a demon that had managed to evade capture by lower-ranked slayers.

Whether it had been by luck or divine intervention, Sanemi had not had a mission for nearly the entirety of Y/N’s final month of pregnancy, and he had been elated to devote every second of his days to her and her needs, as their child’s arrival drew nearer.

Truthfully, the Wind Pillar had never known bliss quite like what he felt when he woke up each morning with Y/N tucked securely in his arms, his hands resting on the generous swell of her pregnant belly as he eagerly awaited the powerful kick of their child that signaled all was well. He had never before experienced the utter ecstasy of feeling the silky warmth of his lover’s skin as he trailed his lips down from her neck to her breasts, heavy and tender, as she fought to quiet the breathy moans and sighs that left her throat under the ministrations of his tongue on her sensitive nipples. And it had been pure heaven to wrap his lips around that small bundle of nerves resting at the apex of her delicious thighs, as he lapped greedily from her core that seemed to perpetually drip with her honey thanks to the excess of pregnancy hormones. 

And as much as he loved the intimate mornings with Y/N, he had never felt more peaceful than when he sat beside her on his engawa, her back leaning against his chest and his arms circled around her, as they both sipped tea and watched the sunset after he finished training for the day.

But all of that had come crashing to a screeching halt when his crow had brought him orders to dispense of some lowly demon that the piss-poor excuse of lower-ranked slayers couldn’t handle on their own. Pathetic.

As he prepared to leave, he pressed a soft kiss to the generous curve of Y/N’s heavily pregnant belly, before rising to kiss her once, twice on the lips, and again on her forehead, his lover reveling in his embrace.

“Don’t you have this kid until I’m back,” Sanemi had murmured against her lips, brushing his callused thumb over her cheeks.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Because I can control that,” but she nestled her face deeper into his palm. “How ‘bout you get back here before I go into labor?”

“I’ll be back before you know it, gorgeous.” Sanemi winked at her, imparting her with a final kiss before disappearing in a swirl of wind.

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It had taken Sanemi a day and a half to track the demon into a swamp in the East. Sanemi had found its lair, littered with human bones, just as the demon rose from the brackish water, and lunged for him. The demon had not been particularly strong, but it was able to manipulate shadow, which is how Sanemi supposed it had managed to kill a large group of lower-ranked slayers. The familiar heat of the excitement of battle flooded his veins, as Sanemi – who had not had the opportunity to fight for nearly a month – relished the chance to let out some pent-up aggression.

The demon had tried to teleport itself between the shadows of the tree to attack Sanemi from behind, but he deftly avoided the demon’s claws, swinging his sworn clean through the demon’s arm. Sanemi grinned, enjoying the chance to toy with his prey.

“CAW!” the familiar screech of a crow sounded overhead, briefly startling both slayer and demon. “LABOR!” The crow cried; Sanemi only able to just make out the dark shape of the bird against the night sky. “GET TO KOCHO’S!”

Sanemi’s stomach flipped. Now? Y/N chose to go into labor now?

“Sorry, demon!” Sanemi’s gravelly voice boomed, a wide grin forming on his face as he swung his sword again, this time amputating the demon’s other arm as it howled in pain. “Gotta run! My girl’s havin’ my baby!”

Sanemi rammed his blade through the demon’s neck and wrenched it harshly to the side, the demon’s head falling with a pathetic thump! on the forest floor. Sheathing his weapon, Sanemi launched himself through the trees, using his wind breathing to gain momentum as he hurtled his way toward the Butterfly Mansion.

Sanemi arrived at Kocho’s estate in record time, having only taken a few hours to speed as fast as the wind could carry him, to get to Y/N’s side. When Sanemi arrived, the grounds of Kocho’s estate were abuzz as Kakushi and Butterfly Mansion girls darted around, gathering supplies. As he made his way inside the medical wing of the Mansion, he wondered whether some incident with a demon had occurred, given the urgency with which people moved.  

“Lady Kocho said she needs more towels and fresh water, quickly!” A tiny, pigtailed girl dressed in the Mansion’s sterile linens cried to another, her small arms full of bloodied towels.

Shit, Sanemi thought, his eyebrows rising. Nasty battle.

“Y/L/N-san must be bleeding a whole lot!” The other girl tearfully responded, her voice trembling.

The pig-tailed girl nodded. “If the baby doesn’t come soon…” The girl’s mouth kept moving, but Sanemi could hear nothing over the ringing in his ears.

There had not been a battle – it was Y/N. Sanemi whirled around, looking at the towels the girl carted away.

They were saturated in blood. Y/N’s blood.

Sanemi’s legs began moving of their own accord, his arm reaching out to snag the young girl by the back of her collar as she choked out a tiny, terrified scream.

“Where.” Was all he said, his arms shaking, eyes wild.

The girl gulped, lifting a trembling hand to point to her right, towards the back wing of the hospital. “The last room around the corner!” She squeaked.

Sanemi set her down and stormed towards the Eastern Wing of the Manor, not caring whom he barreled over in his haste.

You’d better be okay, Y/N. Sanemi thought, his fists balled as he willed himself to move faster. You and that baby had better be healthy.

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Sanemi Shinazugawa never believed himself to be a good person.

He could not possibly be good, because his life was marked by his failure when it had mattered most. He had been unable to protect his mother from becoming a demon, or from her killing almost all of his siblings. He had been unable to save Masachika. He had failed to prevent Genya from joining the Demon Slayer Corps, a veritable death sentence for most.

So it had been easy for him to withdraw, to shut himself off from everything – and everyone -- else. Sanemi could not fail anyone if he cared for nothing. People would still die, but it would not be because of his failures. He had been content to live his life, forever disconnected from the world around him.

But then, everything changed because he met her, and she became everything. 

Y/N had been the most precious surprise of his life. He had not paid her much mind as she had worked her way up through the Demon Slayer Corps, only really becoming familiar with her once she became Kinoe. He had been impressed by her skill, having not seen Lunar Breathing in action before the pair had been sent on a mission together, and she had used her eighth form – Lunar Eclipse – to shield him from the backlash of a demon’s attack. The move had cost her a rather deep gash to her side, and at one point, Sanemi had feared her insides would end up on the ground before the Kakushi arrived and whisked her away to Kocho’s Manor. Rather than cry or moan, Y/N had instead cracked jokes, trying to goad him into comparing battle wounds. Sanemi, in between cursing Y/N for her recklessness (because why should she risk her skin to save his?), had been beside himself, knowing that he lacked the general first-aid skills to at least staunch Y/N’s bleeding. It was only later, as Sanemi watched Y/N pant and try to talk herself through the pain as the Kakushi stitched her back together, that he realized that she had done it for his benefit – to keep him calm.

That she showed care for him before herself – that she had wanted to make sure that he did not spiral – had cracked something in the armor he had built around his heart.

Because until Y/N, Sanemi had not been able to remember the last time anyone put him first.

After she recovered, Sanemi had insisted on training Y/N on decent defense techniques, so that she would never again have to struggle to keep her internal organs inside her body where they belonged. He had reasoned at the time that she was the first slayer in years he had seen show true potential – true gumption.

Seeing her beautiful smile more frequently hadn’t been a bad thing, either.

Then Y/N had become a Hashira – his equal – and still sought him out for training. Sanemi had not dared let himself hope that her continued presence on his estate’s training grounds had anything other to do than with her desire to get stronger.

Yet there she had been that day, the day he could no longer hold himself back, grinning like she had won their spar. She had looked so smug, so infuriatingly beautiful, that he had not been able to stop himself from tasting her, just once. And then she kissed him back, and the first swipe of her tongue against his had turned him into a man starved, a man who could not resist taking more from her that she had been only too willing to give.

How foolish he had been to believe his desire for her could ever be sated.

Before long, he found himself anxiously checking the minutes as they ticked down to their next rendezvous, found himself worrying about her well-being. When she cried on the anniversary of her family’s death, Sanemi had felt as though his heart would crack in two, and he had not stopped himself from reaching for her to comfort her, to whisper sweet nothings in her ear. It was then when he realized he would do anything to see her smile again, that Sanemi had known he was a goner.

By some miracle, she had chosen him, too. She had chosen to stay by him even when he tried to push her away when he thought he was so undeserving of any kindness from her. He had been convinced she could hear the cries of his loved ones as they echoed in his head after he would jolt awake, would hear them scream of his failures, but instead, she had stayed with him, offering him nothing but solace and warmth, and he had not been able to resist her.

And she loved him. She loved him, and though it went against everything in him, and contradicted every measure of self-preservation he had built up over the years, he loved her, too. He loved her so much, it hurt him for her to be away, when he could not feel the reassuring warmth of her body next to his, or when he could not smell the floral honey of her perfume. Sanemi knew that he could scarcely breathe when she was not near, knew that his soul had become inextricably bound to hers.

And though Sanemi had survived a great deal of loss in his life, he knew with certainty that he would not survive losing Y/N.

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Sanemi’s teeth gnashed together as he sped up, finally rounding the final corner before the last room. His arm was outstretched, ready to punch the door to the birthing room open, but before he could do so, he smashed into something solid. He stepped back, sputtering, the instinct to destroy every obstacle, every threat that stood between himself and Y/N making his blood roar.

“Woah there, Shinazugawa.” It was Uzui, standing in front of the doorway, arms folded. “Sorry, you’re not allowed in there.”

Sanemi blinked, not understanding Uzui’s presence here, where his Y/N was giving birth to his child. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” He demanded, moving to shove the Sound Pillar aside.

Uzui stood firm. “Kocho said you’re not to be let in there, and I’m following her orders.” His tone patronizing.

Sanemi’s eyes narrowed as he glared at his fellow Hashira, his fists clenched. “You do know I’m the fuckin’ father, don’t you?” He snarled, his anger rising and mixing with the panic he felt the longer he was kept away from Y/N.

“We do now,” Uzui said coldly.

A hand wrapped itself around Sanemi’s forearm, clenching it tight. “And we were instructed to keep you out until we knew it was safe for you to be in there.” Tomioka’s monotonous voice came from beside him, causing Sanemi to tense as the Water Hashira wrenched him back from Uzui.

“Safe? Are you fucking kidding me?” Sanemi shook Tomioka’s grip from his arm with a sneer, as he looked between the two Hashira in disbelief. “What the fuck does she need protecting from? That’s my fuckin’ baby she’s having!”

Tomioka’s face remained infuriatingly impassive. “Look, Shinazugawa, Kocho just wants to make sure Y/N is comfortable having you in there, and until she says so, you need to stay out.” The Water Hashira’s hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, the threat clear. “We do not want this to turn violent.”

Sanemi was shaking with rage, in part because he could infer the accusation that neither of them had the stones to say to his face, but mostly because every second out there was another second he wasn’t with Y/N, who was bleeding, who needed him.

Before Sanemi could snap back, an agonized wail ripped through the walls.

“NE-MI.” Y/N cried out, her voice cracking from the strain.

The combination of the pain and desperation in Y/N’s voice, paired with the severity of the situation caused something in Sanemi’s chest to audibly snap, a strange calm flooding through him. Both Uzui and Tomioka exchanged a look at Y/N’s use of Shinazugawa’s nickname and turned to face the trembling Wind Pillar.

Sanemi’s hand fell to his own blade, the veins in his arms threatening to burst through his skin. “I’m going to give you one second to get the fuck out of my way, or I’ll turn this hall into fuckin’ rubble.” His voice was low but deadly, a murderous glint shining in his eyes.

Uzui opened his mouth to respond, but the hesitation gave Sanemi the opening he needed to slip past both Hashira and push through the entryway into the birthing room.

“Dammit!” Uzui snarled, stumbling to grab onto the back of Shinuzagawa’s collar to yank him back into the hall, but it was too late.

Sanemi did not announce himself when he breezed into the birthing room Shinobu and the girls had crafted. The smell of blood had been overwhelming, and it had sent every hair on Sanemi’s body standing as he took in the sight of the woman he loved, sweating and pale on the floor, covered in the sticky, dark substance, her chest rising and falling unevenly as she struggled to take even shallow breaths.

Shinobu stepped back from her place between Y/N’s legs, ready to throw the Wind Pillar out herself, or at the very least order him to stand back and let her do her job. She drew short, however, when she saw Y/N, who stretched out a trembling hand desperately towards the man, relief flooding her tired, pained eyes.

“‘Nemi,” she whimpered, tears of exhaustion spilling over her cheeks.

Nemi paid neither Shinobu nor the other girls on hand any mind, instead focusing solely on Y/N and her swollen belly. Shinobu watched in dumb silence as Shinuzagawa knelt behind Y/N’s head, positioning one leg at each of her shoulders. Wordlessly, he slid his arms under her, sliding down to grip gently around her lower rib cage so that he could lift her upper torso enough to work himself beneath her. He settled her upper body in between his legs, her back pressed against his front, and wrapped his arms around her, locking her against his chest.

Shinobu felt so foolish for having doubted the Wind Pillar, especially as she witnessed Y/N— who was no doubt in incomprehensible pain — visibly relax in his embrace.

Shinazugawa peppered Y/N’s forehead and the side of her neck in comforting kisses. “‘M sorry it took so long, sweetheart, but I’m here.” He cooed in a voice so gentle, Shinobu had wondered whether she was truly looking at the Wind Pillar at all, and not some strange doppelganger.

Y/N, panting and sweating from the toll of her labor, just nodded. “I waited, ‘Nemi. I waited for you. I love you.” Her head lolled back against Shinuzagawa’s scarred chest, seeming as though she was on the verge of falling unconscious.

Shinuzagawa squeezed her lightly. “I know. And you’re doing so fuckin’ well, baby. So fuckin’ well. You’ve just got to try for a little bit longer, sweetheart. You’re almost there.” He murmured into her ear, pressing more kisses onto her face and the top of her head. Shinazugawa finally looked up at Kocho, his eyes narrowed, and his face expectant.

Shinobu shook off the surprise she felt, kneeling back down at Y/N’s feet. “The baby has gotten turned around in the birthing canal,” she began to explain, checking once more between Y/N’s legs. “I can try to rotate the child, but at this point, I’m worried both Y/N and the child are in too much distress. She could bleed out before I have the chance." Shinobu’s face tightened. “Or else I’ll have cut her open to get the child out.”

Y/N moaned, her head rolling to slump at her other shoulder, and Sanemi’s grip around her tightened. “What’s the other option?” He demanded.

Shinobu thought for a moment. “If Y/N can use total concentration breathing to push right as I rotate the baby, then she might be able to deliver naturally.” Shinobu met Sanemi’s eyes. “That would also keep her from bleeding out.” Shinobu’s gaze dropped to her friend’s face. “But she hasn’t used Total Concentration in months – I told her not to, since there was a risk her body wouldn’t know if something went wrong during the pregnancy.”

Sanemi nodded once, focusing his gaze back down on his semi-conscious lover. He brushed his lips against her temple, and her ear, slightly jostling her into opening her eyes.

“Did you hear that, baby? You just need to use Total Concentration when Kocho says, and then our kid will be here.” Sanemi smiled gently at Y/N, kissing her head once more. “But you’ve gotta help Kocho out, sweet girl. Can you do that for me?”

The blood loss had made Y/N’s eyes bleary, and unfocused as she tried to force her eyelids back open. Slowly, Y/N lifted her gaze to Shinobu, her head twitching slightly downwards in a nod.

Kocho ordered Aoi to hand her a long, sinister-looking tool that she referred to as forceps. Sanemi’s stomach dropped, realizing how Kocho would be using the tool to turn the child stuck in Y/N’s womb. Y/N must have seen it too, for she began to tremble beneath Sanemi, whimpering slightly and shaking her head.

“Shh, shh Y/N, baby.” Sanemi soothed, pressing his lips to her sweaty temple. “Eyes on me, okay? We’ll use Total Concentration together.” He promised, moving so that Y/N could see him better. Her exhausted eyes drifted up to meet his own, and she nodded, her grip around Sanemi’s forearm tightening.

“We’re ready.” Kocho said, face determined as she waited for Y/N to begin using the breathing form.

Weakly, Y/N sat a little taller against Sanemi’s chest, shifting so that she could grip his forearms with both hands.

“If I hurt you… ‘M sorry.” She breathed, looking up at her lover so tenderly, so apologetic that Sanemi had to restrain himself from crumbling.

Of course she was more worried about him and his comfort when she was the one bleeding out on Kocho’s floor.

Sanemi shook his head. “Just breathe, baby. One…two…” He counted down.

Y/N took a deep breath, her lungs screaming as they expanded beyond their normal capacity for the first time in months. In tandem with her inhale, Kocho pushed the cold, silver instrument into Y/N, the latter wincing at the sensation of the foreign object.

“I’ve got it!” Kocho said, sweat beading on her forehead. “Push now, Y/N!”

Beneath his arms, Sanemi felt every muscle of Y/N’s body contract as she pushed with all her might, her body curling in with the force of her exhale. The grip Y/N had on Sanemi’s forearms threatened to crush his bones, but Sanemi grit his teeth, holding Y/N steady.

“Almost there, one more time!” Kocho panted.

Y/N repeated her breathing, but on the exhale, a scream tore from her throat as she forced herself to push harder than she ever had, her nails breaking the skin of Sanemi’s arms.

Y/N collapsed against Sanemi’s chest, too exhausted to move once more. All was quiet for a moment; the air was still.

Until a new cry filled the room, small, yet loud, and so, so strong.

A wide smile broke out across the Insect Pillar’s face. “You did it. You did it, Y/N.”

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There were two things that Sanemi Shinazugawa knew with certainty: first, he had never known what happiness was.

Not true happiness, anyways. He thought he had known it, when he was a boy and his old man had finally kicked it, leaving him and his siblings and mother free from his abuse.

He had thought he had reached peak happiness again the first time Y/N fell asleep on his chest after a particularly rigorous romp, as he folded his arms behind his head, fascinated to watch her sleep, content and safe against his scarred torso.

Hell, he even thought he had known true joy when the little man in the nearby village began making ohagi just the way he liked it and sold it to him at a fraction of the cost he charged civilians. civilians.

Those had no doubt been happy times, but nothing, nothing compared to this.

As he tentatively reached out a finger, Sanemi realized that happiness, true happiness, was his daughter’s sleeping face, her little cherub cheeks impossibly soft against the callused roughness of his touch. Happiness was Y/N’s teary smile as she nuzzled against the soft mop of downy hair on their daughter’s head, as she whispered how perfect she was.

Second, Sanemi knew he was not good. While Sanemi had always known Y/N was a good person — the best person he had ever known, really — he had never considered that he could be labeled as anything close to “good.” He was too scarred, too hardened to be capable of doing anything remotely good in the world.

Yet as he stared down at his daughter, sleeping soundly in her mother’s arms, Sanemi couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, there had been some good in him after all.

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By the time the Sound and Flame Hashira had been permitted back inside the birthing room (Rengoku having returned some hours earlier after realizing the futility of trying to catch up with Sanemi), both could only stand over the Lunar and Wind Pillars and gawk as they beheld the small bundle fitted snugly in Y/N’s arms.

They could only gawk at Shinazugawa, who was still on the floor with his arms wrapped around Y/N, resting between his legs, as he ran a hand over the sleeping infant’s head with such care that they felt as though they were hallucinating the scene all together. Because Sanemi Shinazugawa had never treated anything so gently in his time with the Demon Slayer Corps as he treated the woman and baby daughter in his arms.

“Let me get this straight,” Y/N said loftily from below them, her eyes not leaving her daughter’s face. “You thought Sanemi was, what? A danger? A threat?”

Uzui laughed, nervously. “Not at all! We just wanted to be sure that he… you know… was supposed to be here.”

Y/N finally looked up at the reddening Sound Hashira, a mix of annoyance and amusement dancing in her eyes. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to interpret the insinuation that I could not hold my own against a man.” She smiled sweetly, but the threat was clear.

Kocho spoke up from the other side of the room. “I accept full responsibility for that decision, Y/N.” She said, only slightly sheepish in her admission. Kocho had remained in the room to monitor Y/N post-birth, to ensure that the Lunar Hashira maintained her Total Concentration Breathing so that her body could continue to heal itself after the trauma of her delivery. “I was…concerned based on some observations I had made earlier in the pregnancy, and I only meant to ensure your safety.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “Concerns?” she questioned.

Shinobu shifted her weight to her other leg, the only sign of her discomfort. “Both I and Aoi had observed some…marks on your body during your checkups, early on.” Light pink dusted the Insect Pillar’s cheeks. “I was concerned you had been harmed.”

Y/N paused for a moment, trying to imagine what it was Shinobu could have possibly seen during her first few appointments that would have indicated she had been in any kind of trouble.

The only marks Y/N ever had on her skin that did not come from her battles with demons had been those left behind after she and Sanemi-.

Oh.

Oh.

Y/N flushed deeply, ducking her head back down to look at her daughter, a curtain of hair concealing her face and her embarrassment. Behind her, Sanemi snorted as he too realized what Shinobu had implied.

Shinobu cleared her throat. “But I understand now that those were just marks…incidental to your everyday life.”

Y/N briefly wondered why the blood loss hadn’t killed her, why it hadn’t at least knocked her out, so she did not have to witness the details of hers and Sanemi’s intimate life be on display in front of not one, but three of their comrades.

Meanwhile, Sanemi remained behind her, content and at peace to be with his girl and their child, if not a little smug at the revelation.

Y/N’s embarrassment was saved by a sudden piercing cry.

“I think she might be hungry, Y/N.” Shinobu said, crossing the room to peer down at  the small bundle wrapped in Y/N’s arms.

“Of course she is, she’s a growing girl!” Y/N glowed, returning her gaze to her daughter, brushing her fingertip ever so lightly over her tiny nose.

Sanemi looked up, for the first time, at the Flame and Sound Hashira who were still gaping down at him and Y/N, his eyes half-lidded in bliss, a wide grin on his face.

“Fuck off.” was all he said, turning his attention back to his girls.

The other Hashira took their cue, and filed out of the birthing room, giving the new family some well-deserved privacy.

When he was sure they were alone, Sanemi brushed Y/N’s hair over one of her shoulders, helping her loosen her kimono to bare her full breasts.

Once their daughter had latched, Y//N rested her head back against her lover’s chest, content to just bask in the utter bliss she felt at having her child in her arms and her heart pressed against her.

Sanemi slid a hand across Y/N’s throat to to her jaw, tilting her head towards him so that he could press a long kiss to her forehead, thumb stroking her face. Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut, reveling in the comfort and warmth of the moment.

Sanemi pulled his lips away from Y/N’s head. “Hey,” he murmured, keeping his hands beneath her jaw to tilt her face up so she could meet his eyes, unfathomable tenderness and something else she couldn’t name reflected in the lavender pools she loved.

“Don’t ever fuckin’ scare me like that again.” He whispered, the grip on her jaw tightening ever so slightly.

Y/N looked at him, incredulously. “You’ve helped me hold my organs inside my body after a fight, but that’s what scared you?” She asked, teasingly.

Sanemi grimaced. “That’s different. This time, I couldn’t do anything to help — either of you.”

Y/N reached a hand up over her to gently cup Sanemi’s face. The Wind Hashira closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, his hands holding her tighter to him.

“I love you.” He murmured as he nuzzled her palm. “So fucking much.”

Y/N had known, of course, for a long time that he loved her. Sanemi was always a man of action rather than words, and he had shown her, on plenty of occasions, how he felt about her.

But hearing him say it still brought tears to her eyes. Y/N moved her hand from Sanemi’s face to grab around the back of his neck, pulling him down to her so that she could kiss him, soft and sweet.

When their lips finally broke apart, Sanemi huffed, slightly annoyed.

“So are you going to marry me now, or not?”

Y/N smiled against his skin. “Yes, you impatient man. I will marry you.”

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“I still don’t get it.” Uzui loudly complained. “How does that happen?”

The other Hashira watched from afar as Shinazugawa and Y/L/N walked up the steps into the Master’s mansion, the Wind Pillar’s arm securely wrapped around the Lunar Hashira’s waist as she carried a small bundle bearing the small, wiggly, and loud infant that she had given birth to a few weeks prior.

“I thought the diagram Y/L/N drew for you was pretty instructive, Uzui.” Iguro said, teasing malice lighting his eyes.

“I would have thought that three wives would have made you more knowledgeable, Uzui!” Rengoku said, half seriously. “But to think, you did not know how babies were made!”

“That’s not what I meant.” Uzui sputtered, a vein throbbing in his forehead.

“I can’t believe none of you noticed that he practically tripped over himself to demand that he take the night shifts watching over her.” Kanroji giggled. “I thought he was going to tear Tomioka’s head off for even trying to volunteer!”

“I thought he was just some weird night-owl!” Uzui indignantly. “Or that he liked watching people sleep!”

Rengoku chortled. “I do not think there was a whole lot of sleeping going on between them, Uzui!”

Uzui groaned, and the other Hashira laughed. Only Kocho remained quiet, her eyes fixed on the backs of her comrades as they awaited entry into the Master’s mansion.

A few weeks ago, Kocho would never have used the word “gentle” to describe Sanemi Shinazugawa. She would have preferred to use “abrasive,” or even at times, “hostile.”

But all that changed the moment she had witnessed the Wind Pillar tend to his beloved Lunar Hashira and their small daughter, and Kocho had realized that Shinazugawa, deep down, was not as brash as his exterior.

None of the Hashira were whole; all of them were a little broken by their trauma. But Shinazugawa was also gentle and kind, and perhaps that was what had drawn him to Y/N in the first place. Perhaps that was all it took; someone to bring out that softness in him, to chip away at the tough facade.

But Kocho kept these musings to herself, and smiled, as the little family disappeared inside the Master’s mansion.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Mostly fluff, I know, but I hope it was worth it. Soft Sanemi is everything to me.

Thank you for reading!

[miumura]

IN ANOTHER LIFE, YOU’D BE THE ONE.

assigning enhypen sad tropes / endings

PAIRING enhypen x gn!reader GENRE angst, some fluff? WARNINGS some r not portrayed in a good light (bc of the trope ideas) WORD COUNT varies from 0.3-0.7K+ per

DISCLAIMER these are just random tropes that i think suits them, however, this is not a true depiction of how enhypen truly acts in real life. this is simply just fictional.

‘ 💬 ’ hanniluvi cb? HAHA sorry for disappearing on you guys, but i just finished finals & school is ending soon !!! so yk what that means 😊! slowly making my way back 2 writing 🫡 this was def made randomly and somehow i was committed to it so here you guys go!!

HEESEUNG — HE FAILED THE SECOND TIME.

i don’t really have an explanation to this, i just think he suits this kind of trope? like he truly loves you to the point where he’s willing to give another shot into the relationship. but when trying again, he realizes the problem but was too late to fix it once more.

You wouldn’t have expected either, but the buzz coming from your phone would be a text message from Heeseung. Shock and adrenaline rushed within your body as he was the first to break the “no contact” rule after your break up.

Without a second thought, you found yourself propped up against your bed frame, texting him instead of sleeping. It was going well, until the text messages started becoming more flirtatious.

Even so, it felt different. It felt like you two were finally ready to try again. When he arrived at your doorstep with flowers and a sign asking, "CAN I BE YOUR BOYFRIEND?", you found no reason to decline.

Texts? He sent you thoughtful good morning and good night messages regularly.

Dates? He always paid attention to your preferences, leading to more spontaneous dates than anticipated.

Gifts? He surprised you with "just because" gifts, often accompanied by adorable notes.

Perhaps it seemed too perfect, but you were too in love to see any warning signs. His initial initiative in reaching out first felt like destiny. However, those blissful three to four months soon dissolved into nothing.

Texts? His responses come much later, and those sweet good morning and good night messages? Few and far between.

Dates? You're the one initiating them, and they lack the genuine spark they once had.

Gifts? It's only you who's putting in the effort, mirroring the gestures he used to make.

You've noticed he's slipping back into old patterns. Heeseung is consumed by his own schedule, neglecting those around him. Attempts to communicate often circle back to his work, leaving no room to discuss your relationship. He's too drained to prioritize you.

Perhaps you shouldn't have expected more or less, considering you already gave him another chance before.

You tried waiting, but with each passing day, you only disappointed yourself further.

So you gradually stopped texting, stopped putting in effort, stopped caring. And what came of it? Nothing.

Nothing until he randomly resurfaced with texts again.

People never change.

This time, without the previous excitement and nerves, you found yourself indifferent to even bother replying. Maybe your silence would speak volumes, considering he's accustomed to the silence he often gives you.

Maybe, you shouldn't have replied in the first place.

JAY — YOU FELL OUT OF LOVE, HE LOVED TOO HARD.

honestly, i see jay as a person who would absolutely do everything and anything for anyone. like this man would have no problem doing anything if it was meant to help anyone he loved. he just gives off the energy / whole idea of “so much love to give, gets not much in return.”

Since you started dating Jay, this guy has been nothing short of perfect to you. He constantly surprises you with flowers, insists on carrying everything for you, and showers you with compliments at every opportunity.

On the surface, it all seemed too good to be true. Despite having what many would consider the "perfect" boyfriend, you found yourself drifting away. Feelings slowly waned, and you began to distance yourself from the person who loved you the most.

Initially, you might not have noticed, but he did. As you began to give him less attention, show less reaction to his gestures, and the love in your eyes faded upon seeing him, he observed it all.

He witnessed you transform into someone unrecognizable. He recognized the signs of change, and perhaps he should have let go then. Yet, there remained a part of him that was reluctant to give up, still holding onto hope and the desire to keep trying.

Despite his earnest efforts to salvage the relationship, he couldn't escape the inevitable "Let’s break up" conversation. He hadn't realized how much his attempts to reignite your love were taking a toll on him until you made the decision to end things.

For months, he had maintained a facade of "everything will be okay," but now, faced with the reality of losing you, he began to crumble. He had invested so much time and energy into becoming a better person for someone he loved, only to realize that he was sacrificing himself in the process.

He couldn't blame you; he never would. He understood that you were falling out of love, and perhaps he should have let go sooner. But he couldn't shake the feelings he still harbored for you, even as they led to nothing but heartache.

Getting over you won't be as simple as he had hoped. He'll likely continue to blame himself, wondering what he could have done differently to be a better boyfriend for you.

But deep down, you know he did nothing wrong. He was a wonderful partner; it's just that you had fallen out of love, and sometimes, that's nobody's fault.

JAKE — RIGHT PERSON, WRONG TIME.

DUDEEEEE, you can’t tell me jake gives off the vibes of a person you’d always think about. no matter how much you try to forget him, you visually can’t get him out of your head. like you truly like this guy, but because of the time/fate, it lead you guys onto separate paths. this trope sounds cliche, but it’s the best way i can word it.

Jake embodied everything you sought in a partner. From his looks to his humor, and especially his personality, he checked all the boxes. Spending time with him felt like a whirlwind; the hours flew by when it was just the two of you.

Ever since he moved in next door, you found yourself drawn to him, intrigued by his every move. What began as subtle glances evolved into friendly greetings and eventually daily hangouts.

You never knew you could be this over the heels with someone until you met him. You found yourself looking forward to his daily texts and him sending silly videos that reminded him of you. You found yourself making silly trinkets and dropping them off in his mailbox. You found yourself with a pink envelope in your hand, walking to the park to give to him.

And as always, you saw that smile that always managed to brighten up your day. Sitting next to him on the swings, as you expected to be faced with another few hours of random talk with him, you’d be suddenly hit with the news of him having to move.

You didn't want to believe it.

You hoped he was joking, but instead, you were met with a disappointed look on his face. He seemed almost ashamed that this was happening, even though you knew it wasn't his fault.

You could imagine how badly he felt, so you kept your emotions in check and simply told him you would miss him. That night, you went home with tears staining the pink envelope you had intended to give him—a letter of your confession.

You had planned to give it to him that day, but instead, you saved it for his last day.

"Here," you said, pressing your lips into a thin line as you handed him the envelope.

"What is this?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

"A letter—but don't read it now!"

"Why not? You're tempting me," Jake replied, raising an eyebrow as he held the envelope with care.

"Well, don't listen to your temptations because—hey!" Before you could finish, he had already opened it, revealing its contents.

"This is embarrassing," you mumbled into your hands, feeling the heat rise to your face. Peeking through your fingers, you saw his eyes getting watery as he chuckled at parts of your letter.

When he finished reading, Jake looked at you and extended his arms. You immediately fell into his embrace, feeling his warmth surround you. Placing a hand on the back of your head, he whispered into your ear, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" your voice cracked, fearing that your confession would lead to nothing.

"I'm sorry this had to be this way," he said, clearing his throat and fighting back tears stirred by your emotional letter. "If it wasn't obvious enough, I like you too."

You felt a mix of relief and sadness. Despite your mutual feelings, fate was pulling you in different directions.

Before you could say another word, his family was already calling him to leave. Jake gave you one last squeeze and a look filled with fondness.

"I'll try to contact you often, okay, YN?"

"Okay," you replied.

As he waved goodbye with red eyes and that beautiful smile you loved, you saw him for the last time in person, feeling the weight of the moment settle in your heart.

SUNGHOON — JUST “FAKE DATING”.

do you see the vision that i’m visioning. like i don’t know, it just works out?? like i can see you two starting to fake date, it leads to something more (at least that’s what you think), and that all disappears, repeating once more. like it seems like he means it, but at the same time, his actions seem to prove otherwise. it’s like a constant cycle that you don’t want to or know how to get out of.

"I'm telling you, I don't think you should be doing this," your friend insisted, both online and in person. "Hanging with Sunghoon is only going to hurt you."

You never anticipated how your own choices might backfire. As a good friend, you just wanted to help Park Sunghoon make someone jealous. After all, with his pleading tone, how could you possibly say no?

If only you just believe his rule, "Don't fall in love with each other," this should be easy. You just needed to play the role—that’s all you had to do.

So, it started off slowly.

You two were together all the time, which was normal for you both. But whenever his ex came around, you could feel him inching closer, invading your personal space. It wasn’t much, but it felt rather intimate...though that was the plan.

Then it escalated. Sunghoon didn’t just act like a boyfriend in person and at school; he began behaving the same way outside of school and over text.

You spent more time together, going to places, laughing as you took pictures. He started showing up at your house unannounced, and the two of you would stay up late, binge-watching your favorite shows and having those nightly talks.

He even introduced you to his friends. Would someone go to such lengths for a fake relationship?

It just didn’t feel like pretending. You felt something there, something that couldn’t be easily explained.

You tried to brush it aside, but your feelings for him only grew. You were definitely falling for his stupid, swooning charms.

You hoped he was falling for you too.

But that sliver of hope crashed down when you saw him with the very person he had wanted to chase after.

They were smiling and holding hands. He looked so...happy.

After he gave them a final hug, he turned and met your gaze, your eyes slightly glistening.

"Thank you, YN," he said, with that stupid grin on his face—the one you had fallen for. Seeing it now only made your stomach twist painfully.

“Thank you? That’s….that’s it?”

“I’m sorry?” Sunghoon gave you a confused look. “Did you expect something more?”

“I would’ve loved an explanation.”

“What?”

You pressed your lips together, but your emotions were overflowing.

“Why would you treat me like that? I mean, why would you treat me so nicely? Why would you try so hard that it made me feel like we could’ve had something…real?”

“YN…”

"Just why, Sunghoon? If you knew this was only going to be a fake relationship, why did you create something special only for it to be discarded?"

"I'm sorry, YN. I never intended my gestures to be misleading, so I never purposefully planned that. I did enjoy our time together, but I have to end whatever we had because I now have the person I will always want."

Right.

No matter how hard you try, you can't change Sunghoon's mind.

You aren’t the person he wants.

After all, that was the whole point of his plan.

Don’t fall in love with each other.

SUNOO — YOU TWO DRIFTED APART.

i feel like with sunoo, since he has such an outgoing and bubbly demeanor, it allows him to easily connect with others. so with that idea in mind, why not because of his personality and him constantly being involved in new crowds, it causes him to have no time for you. without realizing it at first, he soon forgets about his priority: you.

You can't help but feel a whirlwind of emotions: confused, overwhelmed, sad.

Sunoo is a great guy, and you know that. But his bubbly personality seems to be interfering with your relationship.

At first, you were completely fine with it. He helped you meet new people, pushed you out of your comfort zone, and, most importantly, you saw him extremely happy. That’s all you really wanted.

But lately, you've noticed that he’s been paying less attention to you. Even when it's just the two of you, he often ends up calling someone or suddenly engaging in conversations with people around you.

You always had to make the plans, and his reactions seemed less genuine compared to when he was with others. Would it be wrong to think that you don’t matter to him anymore?

You always had to initiate conversations. Always.

Just like every other day, you were on the phone with Sunoo, the silence filling the room. No one was talking, and you could probably assume he was messaging someone else while on the phone with you.

Clearing your throat, you finally spoke. “Sunoo?” You didn’t know why you were nervous; he was your boyfriend, after all.

“Yes?”

“Um…” Your throat felt like it was closing up on you. You never wanted to seem pushy or insecure because of his behavior—you just wanted to feel special again, like you did at the beginning of the relationship. It should be easy to tell someone like him, right?

“Just tell me, YN.”

“Listen…” You hesitated before continuing. “Do you even… love me anymore?”

“Seriously? What kind of question is that? Of course I love you. Do I not show you that?”

“Well… no.” You bit your lip, hoping to get the closure you needed.

“I didn’t know you felt that way. I hope you know that you’re my—oh, YN. I’m sorry, I really have to go. I promised to hang out with Jungwon today. I’ll call you back, okay? Love you.”

You heard the other line beep, leaving you feeling empty. Removing the phone from your ear and dropping it in your lap, you looked at the calendar next to you. Today's date had a large red circle with little hearts doodled around the event “OUR ANNIVERSARY.”

He was hanging out with Jungwon instead of you. He forgot it. You stared at the hearts, feeling a knot form in your stomach. This day had meant so much to you, and now it felt like just another ordinary, lonely day.

His "I love you"s always reassured you—but now? They did nothing but make you feel worse.

He really doesn’t realize how much he’s hurting you, does he?

JUNGWON — THE CLASSIC SECOND LEAD.

okay okay, hear me out. i feel like jungwon suits the idea of a person liking someone, but too afraid to actually make a move. like he would want to keep people he like closely, but he would never do anything that seemed like it would lead to a fallout or anything more. so because of this, it leads to him watching you love someone else on the sidelines.

Jungwon has always been a nervous guy, and being in love only amplified his anxiety.

After spending so much time getting to know you, he realized he was falling—deeply. And he hated how it made him feel.

He hated how he would stutter when trying to make eye contact with you.

He hated how he took extra time to fix his hair.

He hated how he felt like a nervous wreck every time he initiated a hangout outside of school and work, praying you’d have the time.

But all those things he hated would soon fade away when he was with you. He began to appreciate himself for making the effort—it felt worth it.

Any moment with you felt special to him—enough for him to lay in bed and think about it all night.

He loved how you made him feel seen and understood, something he had not felt with anyone else.

If he were to date someone, he would want it to be you.

"Isn't he so dreamy?"

Hearing those words crushed his hopes of ever making you his.

He found himself sitting across from you, listening to you talk about this new guy, feeling a knot form in his stomach.

"Are you listening, Won?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, sorry. What happened again?" He nervously chuckled, clearly not wanting to hear what was going to come out of your mouth.

"We're going on a date tomorrow!"

His heart was about to burst.

Deep down, he wished he could tell you how he truly felt, how much he cared about you, but it seemed like there would be no point.

Every word felt like a stab, yet he forced a smile. "I am so happy for you, YN."

And there was that smile—the very smile he hoped to see whenever you talked about him. But instead, that beautiful smile was for somebody else.

As you continued excitedly talking about your upcoming date, Jungwon couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness, knowing that he would always be just a friend, never the one you longed for.

Jungwon found another thing he hates about being in love.

He hates how loving someone can ultimately hurt you too.

NIKI — “TOO HARD TO LOVE”.

i can somehow see niki being apart of a trope where there is a lack of communication. like i think it would be hard to express himself properly, leading him to become closed off. like he would do tests to see how much you actually cared for him, leading to his own unsatisfaction. and yet, he still wouldn’t communicate it properly, leading to the downfall of your relationship with him.

"It doesn't seem like you care," Niki let slip out over the phone, his words not quite what he had intended to say to you.

"What do you mean?" you responded, clearly frustrated. "How can you say I don't care?"

"You haven't reached out to me."

"And what about you?"

"What?" Niki was taken aback by your abruptness.

"You never tell me anything. How am I supposed to know that you even want to be around me when all you've done is just push me away?"

The silence hung heavy between you, the weight of unspoken emotions palpable even through the phone line. Niki's mind raced, grappling with the sudden confrontation. He hadn't anticipated this turn in their conversation, nor had he realized the extent of his own actions until now.

Niki had never experienced this level of comfort and connection with anyone before.

He hadn't anticipated falling in love again—until he met you.

You possessed all the qualities he had been searching for, and being with you felt incredibly natural. So, it came as a surprise when he found himself in a relationship with you; it all seemed almost too perfect to be true.

Without even realizing, Niki was starting to become rather distant. He never intended to, but he was afraid of becoming a burden to you. The thought of investing so much time and energy into someone who might eventually leave scared him.

"I... I didn't realize," Niki stammered, his voice betraying a mix of confusion and guilt. "I didn't mean to push you away. I just... I've been dealing with some stuff lately, and I guess I haven't been handling it well."

"Then you could've told me, but you didn't. You only talked to me because I was always the one reaching out first," you finally said, your voice heavy with hurt. "So why?"

Niki felt a lump form in his throat, the weight of your words sinking in. He struggled to find the right words, the right explanation, but nothing seemed adequate.

"I don't know," he admitted softly. "Maybe I was scared."

"Scared of what?" you pressed gently.

"Just... just forget it," Niki muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. “I’m sorry.”

"Niki, I need to know that you're willing to put in the effort, to be open with me. This relationship can't work if it's one-sided."

"I just don't want to lose you," he confessed, his voice breaking slightly.

"I don't know if I can believe that."

"What?" Niki's voice was filled with surprise and hurt.

"I can't tell if you're honest with me. You've done this more than once, Niki."

"But it's true!" His voice raised higher, clearly panicked by how the situation had escalated.

"You say that, but actions speak louder than words," you replied, trying to stay calm despite the turmoil inside. "If you really don't want to lose me, you need to show it, not just say it."

Niki should've taken that as a sign to finally show what he'd been holding back. He should've explained why he had such a hard time expressing his feelings, and proved to you that you were someone he truly wanted.

But he didn't. He found himself holding back once again, repeating the very behavior you truly hated.

"Okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That's... that's it?" You scoffed in disbelief. "Really?"

Niki felt a surge of panic and regret. He knew he was failing you again, but the words just wouldn't come. "I don't know what else to say," he admitted, feeling helpless.

"You could start by being honest," you replied, frustration evident. "Why is it so hard for you to open up? Why do you keep pushing me away?"

Niki hesitated, the fear of vulnerability clawing at him. "It's not that simple," he said finally. "I've never been good at this. I've always been afraid of getting too close, of being hurt again. But that's no excuse. I know I need to change."

"Then show me," you insisted. "Show me that you mean it. I need to see that you care enough to try."

Your silence was heavy, filled with both skepticism and a flicker of hope. "Call me when you're finally ready for this. I think we both need a break to think things over clearly, okay?"

Niki should have seen this coming. But instead of running away from the problem like he used to, he accepted it. "Okay."

You hung up the phone, leaving Niki alone with his thoughts. Determined, he knew he had to win you back and prove he could be different, better than he had been throughout the entire relationship.

💬 : if it doesn’t seem obvious enough, i’m trying to get back into writing longer fics 🤫

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

[retroaria]

⋆｡° ✮ boyfriend sakura ⋆｡° ✮

༉‧₊˚. dating the oh so bashful Haruka Sakura! ༉‧₊˚.

WIND BREAKER M.LIST | enjoy 🖤 - aria

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pre-boyfriend!sakura who sees you chatting with Umemiya one day and couldn’t stop thinking about you. He steals Nirei’s notebook and locks himself in a bathroom stall to skim through and find everything he can about you. He can’t help it! The way your cheeks perked up when you smiled, your hair effortlessly framing your soft features. The only logical explanation is that he had been bewitched by your or something. Maybe Nirei had written down the cure for this spell you seemed to have casted on him.

pre-boyfriend!sakura who gets flustered at the mere sound of your name. The rest of the guys catch on pretty quick to his little crush because of how intensely he seems to focus any time you’re mentioned. “Oh, and they’re single, by the way. Do what you want with that…” Suō would whisper teasingly into his ear. “Oh, really… wait w-what!? No I’m not- I- I just…” Sakura could barely contain himself, he gets so red there’s steam coming off of him.

pre-boyfriend!sakura who can’t stop thinking about what Suō said. He considers asking Umemiya about you, considering the two of you seem to be close, but he decides this is something he should do on his own. He finds little ways to get your attention on him, sparking small conversation which usually results in him acting as if he’s annoyed by you. He gets the other guys to hang around the shop/cafe you work at in town just so he can see you more often without seeming weird and going by himself.

pre-boyfriend!sakura who finds you being harassed by a rival gang one day and steps in without hesitation. He sends those guys home with tears in their eyes and turns to you with a level of concern no one has ever seen him have before. Asking if you’re okay or if you were hurt. It eventually turns into him making you out to be a nuisance again, asking how you got yourself in this situation and scolding you to be more careful next time. He takes this opportunity to give you his number, which is honestly the boldest thing he’s ever done. It’s just in case you’re in danger of course!! Although he walks home that night hoping that you’ll message him as soon as possible, checking his phone every so often with the hopes of your name popping up.

pre-boyfriend!sakura who becomes rather fond of your random messages to him throughout the day, his face heating up at the thought of you potentially liking him back, whether it was just platonic or not. If you ask him to hangout his mind goes blank, he has no idea what to do and accidentally leaves you on read for half the day. Eventually Suō and Nirei get a hold of his phone and see the messages, teasing him about it before discreetly replying back to you with a cheeky “I’d love to ;)”, which you notice is very uncharacteristic of Sakura. When he does meet up with you that day he rambles forever about how that wasn’t him and how the guys were messing with him. “Oh, so you didn’t actually want to hang out today?” You say, your expression falling sad. “Wait no t-that’s not what I meant, I did I just-“ this guy cant handle anything.

pre-boyfriend!sakura who spends his days in anticipation of the next hangout you two will have. He relishes in the peace your presence brings him and the way your voice lulls every worry out of his mind and body. He decides that confessing his feelings may ruin the bliss of your current relationship, and so he holds back and tries to enjoy what he can of you. Gushing at light touches, eyes lighting up at the sight of your smile or the sound of your laugh, losing himself in the stories you tell about anything and everything. He accepts the fact that he wants to just smoosh his face into yours and pull your body into his, but he’s ok with how things are as long as he can have these moments with you.

pre-boyfriend!sakura who gets whiplash at the sound of your confession. Through all the time that he’s spent entranced by you, in sheer awe under your spell, he failed to notice the subtle signs of your feelings for him along the way. All he could do was stare at you with a stupid dumbfounded look on his face. He’s lucky that he wears his heart on his sleeve and that his feelings were obvious to you from the beginning, because if you hadn’t pulled him in and placed your lips against his, he would’ve stayed there on the street with that dumb look on his face for days, paralyzed.

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boyfriend!sakura who is immediately extremely possessive and protective over you. Refuses to even tell the rest of Bofurin about you because he truly just wants to keep you all to himself. Of course, you told Umemiya and he told literally the entire town. He takes detours from his patrol routes to check up on you specifically, tries to make it quick although he can’t help but pull you away for a moment to steal a quick kiss before returning back to his patrol. It becomes known by other gangs that your his partner and while some of them get the gist that they shouldn’t mess with you, others may take it as a chance to mess with Sakura. He would protect you with his literal life and so would the rest of Bofurin so you have nothing to worry about, except for cleaning up the injuries your poor boyfriend got while protecting you, but he wears his battle scars with pride.

boyfriend!sakura who is always buying you little treats! Sweets, snacks, little toys and figures, anything he thinks you’d like he gets for you. Always gives it to you so nonchalantly, trying to hide his blush as he watches your adorable face beam at the gift with excitement.

boyfriend!sakura who takes a few months to get comfortable enough to share his life and backstory with you. He’s afraid that you may see him differently, or think that he’s a bad person for who he was in the past and the things the continue to drive him as a fighter. You assure him that you love him for who he is no matter what and it takes him aback. He isn’t used to this level of love and care, and it takes a bit for him to get used to it. Eventually, he becomes totally comfortable with you. He lets you dote on him as much as you want and he relishes in the love he gets to give and receive with you. You truly opened up new perspectives that he had never considered before.

boyfriend!sakura who does his best to make time for you. Not just for you but for him as well. You’re the only thing that calms him down and keeps him sane. He needs a dose of you at least once a day to help him ease out of his constant antsy state. Although it doesn’t help when you start getting all lovey dovey and he make him all flustered, but deep down, he loves it.

boyfriend!sakura who doesn’t really understand the concept of a date. It’s just hanging out right? Wrong. It’s intimate, something he’d never experienced before. Now that he gets to have that with you he loves taking you out. Dinner, movies, walks around the park, even just staying in and cuddling with you for hours, it’s never just hanging out with you. Every moment with you is a date for him because every moment with you is an experience of closeness and intimacy that he can’t get anywhere else but with you.

boyfriend!sakura who needs time to ease into physical touch, but once he does, he can’t get enough of it. Loves the feeling of your hand in his, his arm around your waist, your hands cupping his face, his lips locked with yours. He loves it all so much. When you guys cuddle he absolutely engulfs you, tangling his legs with yours, wrapping his arms tight around you, he’s clinging to you for dear life. He loves when you kiss his jaw or the corner of his mouth, he also likes planting soft kisses to the corners of your mouth. Loves when you run your fingers through his hair or down his back or trace soft circles on his arms, your soft touch feels like the cure to everything that ails him.

boyfriend!sakura who is the first to say “I love you”. He says it to you while the two of your are cuddling, laying face to face, bodies tangled up on his bed as the light from outside begins to dim. You’re both tired and eager to fall asleep in each others arms. He can’t help but notice how incredible this feels, it’s calm and peaceful, but he can still feel the faint flutter of butterflies in his stomach whenever he’s around you. You tug at his heart like you own it, you’ve taken it already, but he would’ve happily given it to you. He can’t help the words as they come out of his mouth in a soft content sigh. He knows he’s scared to say it, but he can’t hold them back, and he doesn’t try to stop it. When you say it back he instinctively pulls you into a tender kiss, then pushes his head into the crook of your neck. He’s blushing like crazy, but he’s so happy right now he doesn’t care about how flustered he is.

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Sakura Haruka, you are going to be the death of me. I really wanted to capture how tender and sweet I think it would be to fall in love with him. He’s such a crybaby, but I think at his core he just needs to be loved ❤️ I hope you guys enjoyed!!

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[miss-conjayniality]

♡ SUB!ENHYUNGLINE AS SERVICE TOPS ♡

genre: smut (+ fluff)

pairing: sub!enhyungline x femdom!reader

word count: 2930

warnings: mommy kink (heeseung), cuddlefucking (heeseung), face sitting/face riding (heeseung & jay), daddy kink (jay), mistress x servant/slave (jake), reader wears bdsm attire (jake), bootlicking/foot fetishism (jake), mentions of rope play and chastity cages (sunghoon), slight objectification of all four of them if ya squint, overall themes of power dynamics (i made all four of them extreme simps for reader), reader is afab and uses fem gendered terms

A/N: god….this took fucking FOREVERRRR to finish. I had to rewrite jake’s section SEVERAL times cuz it was harder than expected to combine mistress kink with soft subby service tops. It’s ironic because you’d think that such a pairing is a walk in the park to write about. but the reason it was difficult is because mistress is normally depicted as such a ‘hardcore’ kink while service tops mainly operate in the realm of ‘softness’. funny enough…after overcoming the severe writer’s block i had for jake, i now feel very inspired to write an in-depth fic about jake’s portion.

heeseung.

heeseung is such a shy, sweet little thing. so sensitive. he’d do anything for mommy. whenever he isn’t being a mischievous brat, he’s the most soft-spoken sweetheart ever. he’s head over heels for you. he’s super affectionate and always wants to cuddle with you. there isn’t a single moment where he doesn’t want his arms wrapped around you (or your arms around him). heeseung loves the warmth of your embrace and believes it to be the most magical place on earth.

he’s a loving, caring boyfriend who admires all that you do for him. the dictionary definition of a gentleman. he too wants to give back to you tenfold. heeseung is the kind of man who will beg and plea to please you. he’s eager to make you happy and is drawn to the thought of you using him as your pleasure dispenser. he just wants you to feel good :( there’s no feeling in the world he loves more than seeing his stunning mommy flooded with all the orgasms she deserves. pleasing you is what pleases him.

heeseung is the epitome of a soft sub 🥺 he’s a very attentive and receptive lover. he’s yearning to get his hands on you whenever he can. he loves seeing your expressions whenever you’re getting pleasured by him. and if he ever detects any form of discomfort from you, he stops.

he’s the type to get very soft, mushy, and cuddly and would totally be into cuddlefucking. showering his mommy with so much love and appreciation. and even crying when cuddlefucking because he’s just so thankful to have a lover like you.

“thank you, mommy. thank you for taking care of me. for loving and respecting me. for showing me what real love is, and so much more. you deserve the entire universe.”

heeseung seems like he’d be highkey into face-sitting. it gives him the opportunity to inundate you with bliss while also fulfilling some of his softer masochist thoughts. he wants you to fuck his face until he can’t think coherent thoughts anymore. he’d moan so much under you that you feel the sensations of his whines up your pussy.

“mommy can you pleeeeease sit on my face?”

his desperate pleas continue, “I so desperately wanna get a taste of you while you suffocate me with your pretty pussy. please i need it so much. it’s killing me. it’s all I’ve been wanting all day”

it’s hard to resist the pull of your lover’s desires. heeseung is such a good boy to you. after all, who could possibly resist his dreamy doe eyes? you’ve teased him enough with the distance and finally start giving into the relieved tension. as the two of you are about to head to bedtime, heeseung has a different type of “bed” time in mind. one that involves less sleeping, and more pussy eating.

jay.

i will FOREVERRRRRRRR stand by the submissive dilf!jay agenda!!!!!! he’s the epitome of a simp husband who loves his wife deeply. he has his bratty moments occasionally. but 90% of the time, jay is suuuuuuch a good daddy for his little princess. jay lives to serve you. on every level. making sure you always feel safe, protected, and cared for. he loves preparing mouth-watering açaí bowls for you, giving you foot rubs while you sip the delicious mango smoothie he made for you, letting you use his credit card to buy those pretty n’ pink satin VS robes that have been on your wishlist for a while, carry all your luxury shopping bags while you strut like a bad bitch on the way to his car, have spa days with you, do each others’ makeup and play dress up, and of course….follow your every command.

princess gets what princess wants. all jay wants is for his princess to be happy 🥺 he can’t stand seeing you sad or mad. if you wanna be eaten out or have multiple orgasms, jay will happily let you use him as your fucktoy. you may have many toys that he has bought for you before. toys you can use while he’s away. but no “toy” could ever compare to jay himself. he himself is THEE sex toy. his hair. his chiseled face. his toned, honey-glazed, dusky body. his calming voice accompanied by his smooth moans. his delicious intoxicating cock. the way he so greedily eats you out and fingers you. the way he kisses your entire body and worships it like a goddess. your pleasure is his pleasure. that’s the mantra he goes by. you’re the star of the show.

you may seem like a perky n’ chirpy bimbo at first glance (which you are, of course 😚💅🏼). but beware. there’s so much more to you than that. you may be the living personification of pink glitter, but you’re also lethal & deadly. jay may be the physically stronger one of you two, but you’re the psychologically stronger one. therefore, you dominate him just off emotions alone. just a simple “please daddy? 🥺” with a puppy dog pout is enough to have him at your whim because a good daddy is one who submits to his princess. good daddies follows their princess’ orders and spoils her with all their might.

you really inspire him to open up (both his feelings AND his legs). the moment he opened up to you about being a submissive, he initially felt a wave of embarrassment. after all, who could possibly ever expect a cold, chic, manly gentleman like jay to even consider being a sub? you’d be surprised. once he heard you express approval of such a kink on him, it felt like a breath of fresh air. it’s not easy to become vulnerable about such a thing.

jay never believed in conforming to traditional norms of masculinity where the man is an obnoxious chest thumping caricature who thinks that being “dominant” is the only way to be masculine. he believes a truly masculine man is one who has the guts to be vulnerable and make bold, unorthodox decisions that go against the grain of what society expects from men. he’s well aware of his hot daddy dilf essence. but he isn’t your conventional daddy. no - he’s a submissive daddy. a daddy who serves the princess and gives her that ‘princess treatment’ she deserves.

as jay kisses and caresses your entire body, he showers you with praise and observes your expressions closely.

“princess, you have the most gorgeous body to ever exist and I want to take in every bit of it,” he vocalizes as he fingers you. “sometimes, it’s hard for me to believe that i’m in the presence of a lovely lady like you. daddy always wants to be good for you.”

his fingers penetrate deeper and his gaze darkens as he sees the sly smirk forming on your face.

“even when i’m at work, all i can ever think about is how my pretty princess is feeling. you deserve to be spoiled. don’t ever listen to anyone who shames you for being a spoiled brat or gold digging whore. they misunderstand the love we have for each other”

jay takes the fingers out of your pussy and replaces them with his mouth instead. the tent in his pants only grows stiffer and inundates his mind further. your heat possesses him to submission and he gets absolutely lost in your dripping slick.

“a good husband always submits to his wife. and i take great pride in submitting to such a bedazzling pretty princess like you.”

as he attacks your pussy with his sweet, loving kisses, he innocently looks up at you with the cutest pout ever and asks, “p-princess….am I p-….pleasing you right?” 🥺

jake.

jake is the sweetest, most wholesome boyfriend ever. he has the most heartwarming love for physics, dogs, his family, his friends, and of course……YOU - his mistress. he’s a nerdy little simp who caters to your every whim. all the other nerds envy him for having a drop dead gorgeous gf like you.

jake’s unwavering adoration for you shines through in every gesture and word. his chirpy demeanor is the most endearing quality about him and you think he’s the absolute cutest because of that. he possesses the kind of cuteness that makes you want to pinch his cheeks and shower him with kisses. you love him with all your heart and he loves you tenfold.

in vulnerable moments, jake finds solace in your embrace, relishing the safety and security that your presence provides. he trusts you implicitly, surrendering himself completely to your care and guidance. your approval means everything to him, and he achingly seeks to earn it through unwavering devotion and obedience.

can he be a brat? certainly. jake has his moments when he likes being tamed by his ruthless, sexy mistress. but the majority of the time, he’s mistress’ good little boy.

despite his “nerdy” tendencies, jake possesses a mischievous streak that emerges when he wants attention from his mistress. he might playfully tease you or engage in witty banter, reveling in the opportunity to provoke a reaction from you. yet, beneath his playful facade lies a deep-seated need to be controlled by you. he is a slave to your desires.

throughout your relationship, jake’s submissive nature became increasingly intertwined with his geeky identity. he has a borderline scientific obsession with your body and wants to know everything there is to know about it. he’s longing to discover what pleases you and how to best serve the needs of his mistress.

his love for you is like the gravitational pull of a black hole – inescapable and infinitely powerful. every moment with you feels like a scientific discovery, unraveling the mysteries of love and desire. your dominion is his north star. it guides him through the darkness and into a place of boundless subservience.

servitude is jake’s middle name. his respect for you extends beyond mere words and gestures. he delights in showering you with thoughtful gifts, whether it’s a handcrafted origami flower or a meticulously prepared home-cooked meal. each gesture is a testament to his boundless affection and desire to make you feel cherished.

one might assume that a wholesome nerd like him isn’t into anything freakish or wild. however, the opposite actually rings true. after all…he IS a scorpio man….

you see, jake has a HUGE weakness for you in black leather, latex, pvc, etc. because he knows that once you’re in your kinky attire, there’s no going back. i could totally envision jake being into something like bootlicking. picture this - you sitting on edge of the bed with your pretty OTK black leather boots on, and he licks those boots from the top of the knee all the way to the bottom.

or even better…..you going, “jakeyyy I need help putting on these boots 🥺👉🏼👈🏼”. and jake, being the servile prince he is, is more than willing to take the time tie every intricate knot of your boots. it’s a sensual sight for both of you. he’d also love to do the same thing with your other bdsm attire like fishnets, corsets, etc. because he adores “helping” you put them on.

jake is definitely a body worship guy. he wants his mistress to know how beautiful she is and how much he loves her. he wants you to know he’s always there to pamper you when you need it. all soft and kissy. 🥺 to him, just your mere presence is orgasmic. he feels that the moment you’re scantily clad, his brain is scrambled. even when you aren’t touching each other, you dominate him on a deep, emotional, symbolic level. he’s deeply fixated on you. it’s as if you casted a spell or induced deep hypnosis on him. something about you makes him want to obey you and carry out all your wishes. through it all, jake remains your loyal companion and devotee.

as jake finishes tying every lace to your sexy OTK leather boots, he adorably looks up at you, welcomed by your sultry, penetrating gaze.

“embracing my role as the slave to your desires ignites a spark within me that surpasses the excitement of any laboratory experiment,” he declares as he hugs and kisses your boots, “and i am more than eager to undergo every trial and test in your presence.”

jake begins the bootlicking from the bottom up, his sly smirk never leaving his face. the way he so confidently makes eye contact with you while licking away drives you fucking crazy. this man is so freaky and you love it. taking his sweet time with each foot.

as he makes his way up to your knees, he kisses and caresses them both with gentle, tender softness. “with every command you issue, you rewrite the laws of my existence, molding me into the perfect servant for you, my mistress.”

sunghoon.

don’t be fooled by his intimidating, stone cold front. because beneath it all, sunghoon has THEE softest, mushiest heart ever. he rarely falls in love. but whenever he does, he falls HARD. and you were the one who shook his world and lit up his universe. sunghoon is often afraid to display such a raw, vulnerable side of him to others. after all, love is tough and scary. and sunghoon’s personality is widely misunderstood by others. there’s more to the surface than you’d expect.

but something about you makes him want to unveil himself bit by bit - both figuratively and literally. you make sunghoon want to surrender himself to you. he will move the earth and sky for you and is merely putty in your hands. he’s protective of you like a knight & shining armor with his queen. he will treat his lover like a living deity. he views you as a goddess and is the type of man to get down on his knees for you, hug your legs, and bow down to you the same way ancient civilizations revered goddesses. that’s the level of power you possess over him.

in your presence, sunghoon’s tough exterior melts away like ice in the sun. you become the center of his universe, your light guiding his every step. he finds solace in your embrace, comfort in your presence, and strength in your love. with you, he discovers a vulnerability he never knew existed, yet he embraces it willingly, knowing that you hold his heart with the utmost care. your influence over him is undeniable, like a force of nature bending to your will. sunghoon becomes not just a lover, but a devoted servant to your happiness, ready to move mountains and cross oceans to ensure your well-being.

sunghoon is such a simp for you in a way that would leave heejayke shocked. so much to a level where it’d put soft boyfriend heeseung, submissive dilf jay, and geeky simp jake to shame. they’d never expect someone like him to get so lovesick. they’re so used to his icy facade that they’re unaware of the fire beneath. it takes a special type of person to awaken that out of him. no one could ever foresee such an esteemed man of logic and restraint behave so irrationally for you.

goddess - that’s what sunghoon addresses you as. because it’s true! your dual nature of being kind & nurturing, yet fierce and ruthless is reminiscent of how ancient goddesses could bless or hex you in an instant. it’s what he respects about you. you possess the depth and breadth of the divine feminine. whenever he looks at you, he sees you as someone who commands respect.

and i just KNOW he’s one of those subs who repeatedly says “thank you thank you thank you” over and over when inundated by pleasure from his beloved. 😢 sometimes he feels guilty for receiving it all because first and foremost, he gets off on getting you off.

sunghoon is intrigued by the idea of you with black heels, stockings, a short skirt, etc. while those big, buff, beautiful arms are tied behind his back and you pull him in to suck your pussy. he likes when he’s fully naked and you’re (somewhat??) clothed. it puts on a specific power dynamic that he very well gets off of. he’s willing to bare it all for you, both symbolically and literally. sunghoon is totally the type to cry happy tears of gratitude while he messes with your pussy. he loves it when you have your way and you do whatever you want to him.

he gets off on situations where he can’t touch himself but he can touch you. such as his arms tied back as mentioned earlier, OR a chastity cage so that he doesn’t jerk off while he gets you off. you honestly don’t mind if he jerks off while pleasuring you. you find it hot. but he insists on the resistance anyways because he believes that such a buildup leads to a more intense climax for both of you later on.

just imagine….him with a sweet, pouty face and his loving words towards you as he kisses your thighs and dives into your slick with his lips…..

“mmm…m-my beautiful love goddess,” he cries. “thank you. thank you so much. i am all yours. i exist just for your pleasure. i hope you realize how much I love you. you’re my everything.”

tears start dripping down his eyes because of the immense gratitude he feels for you. the act of eating you out gets him into a deep trance. once he starts, he just can’t stop.

“goddess….your existence is a blessing. i worship you because your presence illuminates my world. i surrender completely to you, devoted to fulfilling your every desire.”

[bunnyreaper]

the price we pay

kinktober 10 - fuck machine

dom!ghost x sub!reader x sub!soap

(18+/mdni, fuck machine, cuckolding vibes, bondage, degradation, negotiated kink, anal)

Belonging to Simon Riley brought with it a litany of mysteries, both large and small—it's a privilege and a burden you and Johnny both willingly signed up for. 

Simon was always the first (and often only) one to know things in your relationships—plans, observations, feelings, they'd all sit inside his head for weeks or months, waiting for the perfect opportunity to come out. Over time, you've learned to spot the signs of a brewing plan or ruminating thought. This one you picked up on fairly quickly, having made a game of it with Simon. 

Simon sits across from you, lonely on the loveseat as you lounge on the couch, lost in his phone with a focused squint. It's nothing unusual, the two of you spending time together peacefully coexisting in silence—but you sense something amiss.

"You're planning something." You whisper, eyes glued to him as he taps at something on his screen. 

He pauses, gaze connecting with yours as he stares you down, resolute with a slight smirk on his face. "Yeah, and?" 

"How long now?" You ask.

"3 weeks." 

"I'm getting faster, Simon!" You punch the air in victory, kicking and flailing your legs in a delighted little dance that makes your lover smile. "Okay, continue, I won't ask any more questions." You giggle as you bite your lip and turn your attention back to the TV, willing yourself to not think about the surprise. 

So you weren't caught completely unaware when one day an oversized, nondescript box was delivered to the door. Johnny's away on an assignment without you both, meaning whatever it is could only belong to Simon, and likely part of whatever he's been working on over the past several weeks. 

Johnny went away aware something was coming, but not knowing what—because unlike Johnny, Simon could keep a secret from his lovers. You've been resorting to unfair tactics with Simon, waiting until he's in his blissed-out, post fuck state to probe him gently. 

You lay draped across Simon, both of you completely bare as you cuddle up—his hot cum still oozing out of you. 

Now's your chance, you think. Simon's always more relaxed post-sex, and you're not going to ask too much. 

Threading your fingers up to his hair, you stroke his scalp and smile as his eyes slip shut. "Is it a gift?" 

"I suppose." He whispers, eyes cracking open as he eyes you wearily, you can see the cogs turning as he debates giving you an inch, and worrying you'll take a mile.

You study him intently, wondering if you can chance another. "For me?" 

"For all of us." He reaches to your chin, tilting it as he leans in for a breath-stealing kiss that silences any further inquiries. "Now that's enough." 

You nod, beyond satisfied as you snuggle back into Simon's chest and try to temper your excitement.

The package arriving perfectly in time for the day Johnny gets home from his mission is very suspicious. 

You'd both spent the afternoon cuddling Johnny on the couch before Simon disappeared upstairs with his box and ordered you both to stay out of the bedroom until he allowed you in. Johnny had probed you for what you knew, as he tried to come up with ideas for what it could be. 

"Mebbes it's a puppy, I'd like tha'" Johnny comments idly as he plays with your hair, stroking through it as he snuggles up behind you.

You giggle, but shake your head, not convinced by that theory. "I'd hope he wouldn't keep a puppy in the box for that long, plus surely it would've made a noise by now." 

"Hmm." Johnny hums. "King size weighted blanket?" 

Simon's eyes had lit up when you had mentioned it in the past. "Ooh, one we can all snuggle under." You wriggle back into Johnny, imagining the comfort of being cuddled up with your boys and blessed with the extra weight. Then again, you didn't really need a weighted blanket when you had them.

You hear Simon's footsteps as he starts to come back downstairs, and you turn over to shush Johnny with a kiss. "Quiet, don't get us in trouble." 

"Aye, lass." 

After an afternoon of soft closeness and conversation, the three of you would usually take this time to head to the bedroom and fuck the missing parties' brain's out, to catch them up on everything they've missed—but the atmosphere is so different, knowing whatever Simon has been planning is just waiting for you upstairs. 

When Simon nods in the direction of the stairs, you both obediently rush to your feet, heading upstairs as he leads the way. 

"Johnny, be a good boy and go take a shower for me." Simon's voice is a stern command as he reaches the landing and stops Johnny from entering the bedroom. "I'll come and get you when I need you, yeah?" 

"Yes, sir." Johnny nods, his eyes widening as they connect with yours. 

Separating the two of you isn't a good sign for what's to come, and your stomach flips with fear as you're led into the bedroom wordlessly.

"Simon?" You ask, voice hesitant he starts to grab some of the items he's prepared. The whispered name doesn't get a response, so you try again. "...Sir?" 

Simon stops dead in his tracks, turning to you with that expression, the one that tells you his slipping into his dom mindset—head whirring with his plans, with considerations for all of your safety and welcome, and with anticipation for what's to come. "On the bed, now. Clothes off." 

You freeze for a moment, swallowing thickly before you rush to throw up every garment you're wearing—they're hastily discarded on the floor, only to be collected and folded when Simon hits you with a stern look. 

Once you're bare, you lay on the bed, uncertain of what's to come and yet trusting in the other man completely. 

Simon repositions you as he wants you, turning you over on your stomach before pulling up your ass into the air.

The large object at the foot of the bed covered by the sheet hasn't escaped your attention. "What's that?" 

Simon follows your gaze, to the covered mound. Silently, he pulls away the covering to reveal the contraption underneath. 

A fucking machine.

"Wow, fuck. What are you planning?" You gasp, already squirming in anticipation.

Simon steals your focus, turning your head back into the bed. "You'll see." 

His hands run over your naked behind, trailing down your legs before he gets to work gently attaching a spreader bar to your ankles—preparing you to be able to take the dildo attached to the machine. When he's done securing your ankles, he gets to work on securing your wrists together so you're truly helpless. 

You squirm as you feel the lube drip onto your exposed holes, his finger working the slick into your pucker and preparing you. Your head spins, as you begin to anticipate the machine fucking your ass, until you feel the cold metal of a plug and Simon's hand holding your rear. He works slowly, opening you up on a finger or two until he can get the plug inside.  With that done, he leans over, close to your head. 

"Love you." He mumbles as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Safeword?" 

"Red." You confirm, relishing in the feeling of being so safe with your boyfriend and dominant. "Love you too, Si."

"Good girl." 

He gives you a once-over, checking everything is in place, before he moves away. Next, he gets to work on moving the machine, you can just see in your peripheral as you crane your neck that he's moving things around—and then you feel the tip poke at your entrance, positioned so carefully so as to not truly enter you.

"Fuck." You shiver with anticipation, trying to wiggle back onto it only to be met with strong hands stilling your hips. 

You're already so needy, you're barely able to think of how the evening might unfold or what this will all lead to. Right now, you just want relief.  "Are you gonna turn it on?" 

"Not yet." 

You crane your neck to watch as Simon leaves the room, leaving you exposed and anticipating. 

The conversation between him and Johnny in the bathroom is muffled, barely audible over the blood pumping in your ears. 

When they make it to the room, Johnny is being led by Simon, due to the silk wrapped around his eyes. Simon lays him face down on the bed next to you, pulling off his towel and leaving him exposed alongside you. Johnny's already rock hard in anticipation, his cock rubbing against the mattress.

"Why's he blindfolded?" You ask, brain trying to piece together what is happening, what Simon has in store.

Upon hearing your voice, Johnny's hand twitches, wanting to reach out to touch you but knowing instinctively he isn't allowed. Were it not for the blindfold, the two of you would at least be able to share meaningful looks.

"For the surprise." Simon mumbles, as he starts to gather lengths of rope to tie Johnny up with—by the looks of it, your boyfriend was going to be bound head to toe beside you. 

"Oh, so I shouldn't ruin it?" You giggle, teasing Simon with the fact you could disobey and give the game away before he's ready. 

Your words are met with a scoff, and you watch Simon scowl as he pauses. "Not unless you want to trade places with him." 

As Simon gets to work tying Johnny's arms and legs, you realise very quickly that the last thing you want is to trade places with Johnny—at least you're seemingly in more of a position to get pleasure tonight, whereas it seems Johnny might get denied. You also realise that when the blindfold comes off, Johnny's going to be fucking furious. 

"Am getting tied up, ooh." Johnny coos, his tone playful as his lips curl into a smirk. 

You watch, fascinated, as Simon works deftly, securing the black rope over every inch of Johnny's gorgeous body. 

"If it helps, Johnny, I'm a little restrained too—ow!" You don't get to finish your sentence, as Simon cuts you off with a sharp spank. 

"What did I say?" He growls, attention turning to you for a moment to fix you with a steely glare. 

You pout, but bite your tongue from giving any further hints—you know what's good for you, after all. "Sorry, I won't give anything away, sir. Promise." Hopefully, the groveling will keep you in Simon's good books. 

"Yeah, could still be anything." Johnny comments, conspiring with you to keep you out of trouble—bless him. You had a feeling the two of you won't be so allied in a few minutes. 

It becomes clearer to you with each second that this setup is one of Simon's games to play you against one another, and tonight you're the lucky one, rather than the punished. Of course, it's all only temporary, and in the spirit of everyone's enjoyment—outside of the bedroom, you all try your hardest to never create imbalances between you.

"Jokes on us, he's gonna tie us both up and leave us in here, so he can get some peace, Johnny." You joke, trying to keep the mood fairly light.

"'m getting close to it." Simon is back to grumbling, as he finishes up his binds on Johnny's limbs. "Safeword?" 

"Red." Johnny confirms, his expression turning more serious. 

Simon presses a kiss to his forehead before he gets to work on undoing the blindfold."Love you." 

"Love you—" Johnny's words are cut off as his eyes flicker open, and he takes a second to crane his neck around to take in the scene beside him. "—bastard." 

"Don't like what you see, Johnny?" Simon chuckles, low and full of mischief, as he walks toward the bottom of the bed, standing near the machine that is so close to working its way inside you. 

"Fuck you." Johnny snarls, his eyes looking angered and desperate as he meets your gaze. He is, as you expected, furious.

And you hate that his reaction makes you leak—he wants you so bad, and he's being denied, completely at Simon's mercy. 

You want to get fucked so bad, whether it's by Johnny or the machine or Simon, you don't care. But tonight, you know the only thing getting stuffed in your cunt is the dildo on the fuck machine. "Please, sir, please turn it on." The words rush out of your mouth before you can stop them, need coursing through your body.

There's a low growl from both men before Simon speaks first. "Tell Johnny how much you want it." His words are accompanied by him adjusting the dildo at your entrance, getting ready to grant your wish.

Johnny's eyes soften when you look to him, but the fury within is still evident. You hope he sees the softness in your eyes too, hope he can see how helpless you are right now under Simon's spell that is making you complicit.

"Johnny, want it so bad... fuck." You wiggle once more, trying to get any kind of relief. Johnny grits his teeth through the next part. "Tell him to turn it on for me, please."

Another growl from Johnny as he thrashes against the mattress, unable to really do anything at all. "These fucking ropes, as soon as I get—" 

His sentence is interrupted by your moan, loud and uninhibited as the dildo breaches you, working itself in at a tortuously slow rhythm.

Simon is messing with the controls in your peripheral. "How's that?" 

"Slow." You whine, desperate for more already. The machine picks up its pace, fucking into you more steadily as it strokes against your insides. "T-thank you." 

Simon makes his way back to the side of the bed, standing behind Johnny as he taunts the man with his touch, stroking his face delicately as if to subdue and tame a wild animal.

"Is it better than him?" Simon asks, leaning into your field of vision.

You look up at him, mind hazy and unsure what response he wants. Does he want you to humiliate Johnny for him? Is he going to make you say you prefer the machine just to exert his power and control?

Simon senses your hesitation, your need for guidance in this moment, and his hand comes to stroke your face, much like he is already doing with Johnny. "Just looking for the truth, pet."

Your eyes flicker back to Johnny's, noticing the way they shine with something other than anger—fear and humiliation, as he waits for your response. Poor, sweet Johnny, already being broken down into submission by Simon. 

"... No." You whisper truthfully, gaze fixed on Johnny, so you can catch his relief. 

Simon tuts, walking back to the controls to turn them up as if to try and change your mind. "Shame."

The machine's pace increases, ramming the dildo into your cunt faster and faster and forcing the moans out from your pretty little mouth.

Johnny turns ferocious once again. "Yer not seriously gonna leave me here while a machine fucks ma girl instead of me?!" He pleads, desperate and mad and so confused, and yet still working his hips into the mattress for relief. 

"Your girl?" Simon snarls, returning to tug at the roots of Johnny's hair until his head is floating off the bed. 

Johnny swallows, winces at the sensation, and attempts to correct himself. "Our girl." 

Simon throws his head down with little regard, as if he's disgusted to even have touched your other boyfriend.

"My girl." His voice is all growl, threatening and territorial as he crawls onto the bed, ignoring Johnny and his need in favour of yours. "Here's how this is gonna go, Johnny. You're gonna be a good boy and stay there." 

You hear the cap of the lube open, and slick sounds as Simon lubes up his cock—both you and Johnny are breathless in anticipation. 

Simon's fingers then work the plug out of you, and you know exactly what is coming next. You're about to get double penetrated, while Johnny lays there and watches, powerless to stop it. He's wanted both men to take you at once for so long, only to be denied. 

Now it was going to happen without him. 

You feel Simon nudge his cock at your pucker, spreading around the lube there and chuckling at Johnny's livid reaction.

"You're gonna stay there, and me this machine are gonna fuck her better than you ever could."  

[fairycheol]

Sunday Morning

luke castellan x apollo!fem!reader

cw: pure fluff, kissing, minor injury, a little bit of angst

Everyone at Camp Half-Blood knew how good you were at your job as head counselor for the Apollo cabin. You were strong and agile, and had a great hand in archery, healing, singing and dancing. You were everything an Apollo kid needed to be.

Apollo himself took pride in that. Sending you arrows crafted by Artemis and even requesting Hephaestus make a gold bow just for you. His favorite daughter.

Everyone at camp also knew you as the girl who had stolen Luke Castellan’s heart. The two of you arrived at camp only a day apart, and despite being claimed by Apollo two weeks into your stay at the Hermes cabin, you were able to form a bond with the boy. A bond surely impossible to break. Right?

This Sunday morning was no different then any other day, the sun was up earlier than usual and in true Apollo kid fashion you followed with it. As a camp counselor it was your duty to take on the heavier jobs in camp. Hunting for food with some of the Artemis girls, gathering herbs with the Demeter cabin and other things.

Today’s chores involved restocking the infirmary, Capture the Flag was approaching and knowing Clarisse La Rue there was sure to be a few kids walking in with narly bruises after.

“What’s up Sunshine?” Turning around to the sound of a deep voice from the infirmary entrance you see Luke. His hair is messy and his shirt is inside out. Unlike the other cabins at camp, the Apollo kids don’t get the luxury of sleeping in late.

“Hey Curls you’re up bright and early,”

“Yeah well, Mr.D said I could help you with restocking the infirmary and I won’t pass up an opportunity to spend some time with you.” By this point Luke has walked forward so you stand toe to toe with him. Wrapping your arms around his neck you give him a quick kiss on the lips,

“Well that’s awfully sweet of you,” Luke leans in for another kiss but is stopped by your pointer finger being pushed against his lips

“But! you should probably fix your shirt. It’s inside out and I don’t want you to come mopping to me when Chris makes fun of you for it.” With a pat to his cheek you leave the infirmary closing the door behind you.

-

When Luke finally joins you outside his hair has been tidied and his shirt has been fixed so you grab his hand and begin to head for the forest.

The two of you spend the next two or so hours in pure harmony and bliss. Throwing strawberries at one another and stealing a few kisses.

Nothing could this moment, except maybe the raging storm that was soon approaching in the form of a 12 year old boy.

[akutasoda]

hi hi ml!!! we’ve only recently become moots but i hope you dont mind me joining your event 🫶‼️ if star rail is still open, wb boothill & aventurine !! with general domestic stuff !! specifically cooking or baking with him ;; i wonder how that would go

also thank you again for the opportunity 💕💕

a life with you

synopsis - a domestic lifestyle with them

includes - aventurine, boothill

warnings - gn!reader, domestic stuff, fluff, slight angst at the start, slight crack, teasing, wc - 675

a/n: hii ren! don't mind at all <3

aventurine ★↷

↪a domestic setting to aventurine is something to be treasured with your loved ones. he loved his family and he still does but now after all this time, the person he gets to experience domestic bliss with is you.

↪to him, being with you in that domestic style is one of the only places where he can show his weaknesses. it's just you and him so if you've made it this far with him he trusts you enough to show his most vulnerable side.

↪it would be a change of pace compared to his life as one of the stonehearts but a very welcome change. he'll let himself indulge heavily in the moments of peace with you as he knows that being with you is the closest thing he can get to being safe.

↪due to being a stoneheart, he is prone to being sent across the galaxy quite often and with you in his life he does try and get back to you as quick as possible. alot of the time he gets back late as well so doesn't encourage you to wait up for him but if you do, his heart melts so much.

↪once he gets really comfortable with you, you can start seeing him become more open and honest with his words and actions. he likes to embrace you whenever he can and sometimes catches himself unconsciously searrching for your figure even if you're right next to him.

↪maybe has some cooking or baking skills but would be extremely limited - very open to learn however and whether it's out of genuine interest or just an excuse to be with you is up in the air. very willing to help you anywhere and so cooking or baking is no exception.

↪would be a surprisingly good baker/cook. it takes him a little while to get into it but when he does he becomes very efficient. no accidents would occur when you two cook or bale together and whatever you'd make would turn out very good.

boothill ★↷

↪a galaxy ranger, a bounty hunter, a cowboy. boothill was many things, constantly moving around to chase his next target - he didn't live for himself afterall. he never settled in one area for too long and so domestic activities were irrelevant in his life.

↪he probably had a higher probability of experiencing domestic activities when he was human but definitely not as a cyborg. he just doesn't have time for such trivial things that wouldn't give him the homeliness that it would to anyone else. or so he thought.

↪you made alot of things that seemed pointless to his cold metal body worthwhile. he may not be able to feel the same feelings he used to but atleast with you he could fully convince himself that he could. so that domestic feeling becomes real to him.

↪ it's never really a dull day when boothill's around, although if you asked him he'd tone down his slight hyperactive mind. he isn't that energetic at home but he can get very loud and annoying sometimes especially when you knwo he's trying to tease you

↪he's very touchy both in and out of a private setting, sometimes tones it down if you aren't really a pda type. while he may not be able to feel you under his cold fingertips he can instead feel a comfort in knowing nobody would dare mess with you when you have him practically slumped on top of you. also is a massive bed hogger - you have to fight him for even a slither of the bed.

↪cooking probably isn't one of boothill's strong suits. whether or not he actually need to consume food is unknown - he probably doesn't but because he does have a human face he probably can still taste. however he'd gladly entertain you if you wanted cook or bake with him.

↪ absolutely no help whatsoever. most likely does not know how to cook or bake but would insist he does just to nearly set things on fire. if you really wanted him to help you probably have to distract him by telling him to hand you ingredients or stir things but then he'd insist to help - do you think he could pull up recipes in his mind?

akutasoda's 1k event

[goldsbitch]

My name

Busy schedules don't allow Y/N and her boyfriend Lando Norris much down time to chill with her friends. But missing a wedding is a no go.

fluffy fluff, wedding, one shot, for the vibes only

It was almost a stroke of luck that Y/N's friends managed to pick a date for their wedding on a day that Lando could attend. This was a rare opportunity, while she accompanied him often during his events or outings, more than often he was unable to be there as her partner on her personal affairs.

Missed family gatherings, friends birthdays and grill parties. She accepted that part of their relationship, with the hope that in the future, it might come to change. They'd been dating for two years now - if she had to pick the brightest days of her life so far, it would in this time frame.

There was lot of excitement in the late summer air. One of her best friends was marrying a guy she became good buddy with over the years. And Lando would finally be joining her, as her partner. No more half smiles following the question "Would Lando join us this time?". These two friends marrying each other were a nice inspiration for the kind of relationship Y/N strived for. And Lando was that for her - a partner, lover, friend and the one to always make her laugh. But some of the people in her life were not convinced that he was good for her, mainly for the lack of his presence. She did not want the opinions of other to spoil their relationship. However, it would be a lie to say that her heart wasn't jumping around with happiness at the prospect of having him join them.

Her friends organized their dream wedding in a lovely estate somewhere in South of France. Small village remote from any city, safe from any prying eyes. It was refreshing from the flashing lights of racing tracks. Eighty people, all mostly friends with each other.

Y/N came in earlier with the main couple, in order to help them put everything in place. Two days of hard work navigating typical struggled of wedding organizing, with tomorrow being the big day. Regular guest were coming in, but she was only waiting for him, counting every minute.

Those prep days were packed with dealing with logistics and all this wedding usually concern. Going back and forth and trying to make everything perfect for the main event. But, she manages to find a moment of solutide to take in the beauty, the smell of late harvest, sun kissed valleys and heavy summer air, that set everything in. Having the bottom of your dress shiver with light breeze is the epitome of bliss. Life was good. And for the main part, she would get to experience all this with her love around her arm.

//

The two getting married? They were something else.

"Babe, what the fuck are these glasses?" said the bride to be as she watched the caterers setting up table for an evening dinner buffet.

"Well, you said yes, to them, remember? Back in May," was how the groom replied hastily. Y/N watched, knowing well enough that the strange looking glasses that were too big for her friends small hands were definitely not what the bride would have picked. She smirked as she watched them bicker playfully.

"They look like some futuristic ashtrays," the bride continued, shooting arrows playfully at he soon to be husband.

"Hm. Isn't that cool?" he said, trying to talk himself out of it. They were both strong opinionated people, so this was not a rare debate.

"No? How do you think this suits our late summer garden vibe?" she said, pointing around to the fields.

"You said yes to them, I remember specifically..." he defended without a beat.

"My mom's going to think we smoke."

"Well...we could use them as ashtrays," he said, inspecting the items.

The bride threw her hands up, not believing the game her "soon to be" was playing. "Babe, we don't smoke!"

He mimicked her hand gesture ironically. "We could start!"

"Just admit you've made a fuck up, honey, and we're good."

"That will never happen. This is all part of the plan."

Y/N observed and chucked, knowing well enough that the best thing to do was to stay out of their way.

A small quiet whisper came from behind Y/N. "Is this how they always act?" Shiver down her spine. She smiled, because she could recognize that voice anywhere. Heard it thousand times in the morning, in the middle of a busy day and on too many late night phone call to count. She turned her head slightly only to find him standing right behind her, his head now resting on her shoulder.

"Hi, muppet," he continued as he wrapped his hands around her, hugging her from behind. "I'm sorry I am a little late. Turbulences held us up."

The two stood there, as young lovers would. Completely wrapped in their own world.

"Did they? I completely lost track, as you see, big problems over here," she said and pointed inconspicuously to the couple still bickering about glasses. It wasn't technically true, she managed to get her phone out every other minute as they were unpacking stuff. But that was too embarrassing to admit.

She finally turned around to give him a welcome kiss, a much needed physical contact after not seeing him for almost three weeks. "Do you think we could take a walk around the garden? I would to get my head clear before facing other people," he said sheepishly. The last few race weekends had been very tough on him.

"I would be more than happy," she replied with a smile.

The scenery was too good to be true. Never ending fields of trees, heavy air sitting on the top of everyone trying to breathe and smell of hot soil and dried leaves cut though it all. They walked hand in hand in silence for a while, the sound of cracking branches accompanying them with every step. These two had spoken a lot in the past few weeks, every day it was either a phone call of few videos shared mapping their separate days. Texting was not good enough for these two. Lando was pretty much touch starved. Even though he was touched by random people more than an average person would be, as some fans felt like it was ok to do so. It made him miss the consensual touch he shared with his girlfriend more than ever. Girlfriend was an interesting word, felt outdated for the feelings he had for her. A small box had been accompanying him whenever he saw her for a while now. But he figured that highjacking someone else's wedding with his own proposal was a bit rude and selfish. He was grateful that this time he did not bring the box with him, as he was not sure he'd be able to resist proposing when he saw how the light reflected from her hair made it all shine, like a fresh jar of honey. A white dress would definitely suit her and his last name as well. He knew she'd want to keep her maiden name too and was more than fine with that. But to add "Norris" behind it was his ultimate goal.

"You seem more quiet than usual," she asked after a moment, being more than capable of reading his face. He was slowly letting go of his stress from the races.

"I'm loosing myself in the thoughts about your dress," he replied cheekily, letting her think he is talking about the teal summer dress she was wearing at the moment.

"Are you, now?" she winked and pulled her dress up slightly, only stopping at her bikini line.

"Oh, you can't do that to me," he said, defeated.

"You sure?" She stopped walking, came closer to him and put her arm around his neck. "But it's been so long since you've touched me," she added, knowing this will set him off. Teasing and seducing him was like a second language to her. She god real close and rubbed her core against his crotch.

"You're asking for trouble, Ms....Y/L/N," he nearly had a Freudian slip there. He panicked slightly and decided to kiss her immediately. She didn't seem to notice. Once he calmed down a bit he slid his hand down to he legs and the went back up to cup her ass and pulling her dress up again. "I would have you right here and now," he mumbled into their kiss and she smiled. Absolutely in love.

"We'll have to wait until the evening, we have a very nice room..."

"I don't care about that, I want to cum into you right here and now," he continued and bit her upper lip lightly.

"Anyone could walk by," she kept resisting.

"As if I care."

She laughed and broke their kiss. "We have to go now. I still have to help the poor bride with the decorations."

He signed overly dramatically. "You are making my life a living hell, Y/N."

"You can punish me later," she ended and got out of his embrace and started heading back to the estate. "Come on," she instructed as Lando watched her ass as she walked away. Norris. It's going to suit her.

//

Evening marked shared laughter, catching up with many friends, local wine with cheese and hands held under the table. Only once it was really happening did Y/N started to notice how much she needed this. Being able to "show" Lando off to her friends for longer than a short appearance. They got to finally know him, not only listen to stories about him. Oh and he was marvelous that evening. Charming, funny, criminally handsome - and always by her side. He was happy to be there. One of the reason being finally able to listen to the people she spoke about, but also to let loose and not have to think about what he says. These were no sponsors, interviewers or teammates. He loved that they cared about her more than him. It was a nice change. And he was on board with that, enjoying the fact that she was the star and not him.

//

The wedding day had swung by in a blur and suddenly, Y/N and Lando were sitting in a small local chapel, watching her friends making a mark on their relationship.

But Lando was not watching them. He was watching his now girlfriend. With the sight he had in the corner of his eye, the thoughts hanging in the back of his mind were getting louder and louder.

The ceremony was a non serious and cheerful one, the priest making many jokes while still keeping the atmosphere together. As far as ceremonies go, this was an honest one. The only thing to bring people out the holy romantic vibe this gave off was an unapologetically explicit kiss the bride and groom shared as they got wed. It was more like watching drunk teenagers make out. Some people laughed, some people cheered and the rest were slightly mortified. Y/N was one of the people to turn their heads away from the sight, she had known this girl ever since they were kids, this was a little too much. Lando found her reaction amusing, as he had heard many stories of her and her friend to know that she'd witnessed way more extreme things. "Look at you, prude," he whispered to her ear as he watched the bride and groom fight with their tongues.

"I refuse to accept this," Y/N said, keeping it up with the grandmas in the room.

"Well, if this repulses you, then I'm afraid you're going to die of embarrassment at our wedding," he said as if it was no big deal. But to Y/N it was. They had joked about marriage few times, but Lando used a different tone of voice this time. But she had been secretly dreaming about it for a while now.

"You're going to have tie me down if you're planning on doing that," she said, pointing at the pair, not quite sure how to process that he was probably thinking about their marriage too.

"So far, you've never said no to my plans," he winked at her.

Y/N smiled and turned her eyes to the ground. If someone had asked why she smiled so much, she'd say it was because of her friend's wedding. Though it would only be one half of the truth. She held his hand, as they walked out of the church. For some reason, it almost felt like a rehearsal.

[sweet-honey-fruit]

An Even Happier Valentine’s Day ❤️

Surprising Genshin Men with a lingerie on Valentine’s Day.

Star Rail version here 🫶

w/: Dottore, Neuvillette, Zhongli, afab!reader

Warnings: p in v (Dottore), rough sex (Dottore), pinned down (Dottore), degradation/praise (Dottore), choking (Dottore), reader is a masochist for Dottore, biting (Dottore), unprotected sex (Dottore) clothed pussy rubbing cock (Neuvillette), dry humping (Neuvillette), oral sex (Zhongli), fingering (Zhongli), sacrilegious undertones (Zhongli), marking (Zhongli)

Masterlist: xxx

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Dottore ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - How cute that you think you could ever surprise him with such a thing. He's observant. He sees the lace just lightly showing from under your outfit. He sees the way you've been anticipating getting through dinner to be alone with him. He sees how a desperate, bubble disaster you are at the mere thought of 'surprising' him with an intimate gift. How foolish of you. That only meant he had time to think about what he wanted to do to you when you got home.

The moment you two got home, he ripped your outfit off to reveal the pretty set you bought just for him on this special occasion. He'll make sure this opportunity doesn't go to waste.

His thrusts were rough, deep and harsh with the words he muttered against your ear being so much harsher, "My little slut had this all planned from the beginning, hm? You wanted to be fucked like this," He chuckled deeply next to your ear, pressing a sloppy kiss on your jaw. His chest pressed against your back, easily pinning your hands behind your back with one of his own. The strain on your arms burned, but it burned in a way that had you seeing stars.

His free hand snaked up your chest till he was able to wrap it around your neck. The pressure he added cut off your moans, breathing turned ragged. The lack of air made you dizzy; it was all so overwhelming yet you couldn't help but want more.

His teeth dug into your shoulder. You could feel the sly smirk he had when he felt your pulse quicken from where his thumb pressed against it.

"You love it when I make you my plaything," He kisses the bite mark he left, a stark contrast to his rough thrusts. His dick slides in and out of your slick hole with ease, your wetness dripping onto the sheets below. He's fucking you so good that you feel weak, your body succumbing to his and wanting nothing more but to be filled.

"There you go, take it. You're doing such an amazing job. Sshh, it's alright-" A low brown cuts him off as he feels your walls clamp down around his cock, "Oh fuck! Yeah, just like that."

He lets go of your throat, although your moment to finally being allowed to breath is cut off once more when his hand entangles in your hair, pushing your face down into the mattress. His hips snap against yours desperately, and you can tell by the way his moans become more frequent that he's close. You go limp, eyes rolling back as each thrust sends electricity through your body. With a muffled yell of his name, white hot pleasure courses through you. Your mind goes blank, the only thought being of the man buried deep inside you.

As your walls flutter, Dottore's hips stutter He stills, grunting out your name with fucked-out bliss. His hot cum fills up your needy hole, leaving you to grind up against him to feel all of it, all of him, and all that he has to offer.

His body leans down to cover yours, panting up against your ear. You can hear the smile on his face while his cum drips out of your still needy pussy.

"What a good plaything you are. You did so, so well," It's cocky, it's patronizing with only a hint of genuineness.

And it makes you want to be fucked by him again.

Neuvillette ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - When you told him to lay down on the bed for a surprise, this isn't what he had in mind. He's not complaining though. It was something to see you wearing a lingerie that replicated his color scheme. Dark blue with lacy white accents. Seeing those particular colors, his colors, provoked a deep primal urge and had his cock straining against his pants.

Nothing though could prepare him for how your clothed pussy glided over his hardened, twitching cock. His hands rested on your hips, nails digging into your flesh so deliciously that it motivated you to go faster. He was in a trance, watching your wetness soak through the panties and coating his dick in your juices.

With each snap of your hips his cock presses up against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. Neuvillette looked majestic with the way his face was tinted pink, letting out groans whenever your pussy lips moved perfectly over the shape of him. His precum was dripping onto his abdomen, showing just how much he can't wait to be inside of you.

When you focus your attention at the tip of his cock, he lets out a desperate command to yes, keep doing that. His hands grip your hips and force your movements to keep at it. He was losing his composure, beads of sweat gliding down his chiseled chest. The sight made you light-headed, intoxicated by the pure beauty of the man under you.

Your clit throbs as the mixture of your soaked panties and his cock stimulate it in a way that pushes you over the edge immediately. Your legs quiver as your orgasm hits you hard, turning your vision blurry as it rakes over your entire body. His eyes train on your face, how your lips part to moan out his name, eyes glazed over because of him and how he made you feel with such a simple act.

Perhaps it was the added slick, or maybe the blissed out look on your face mixed with the plea of his name that made him cum without warning. The pearly white substance covers his sweaty chest. Despite that, you collapse onto his chest without a care in the world, trying to recover from the mind-numbing effect of your orgasm.

His arms wrap around your waist, a loving kiss pressed against your head. "I love you."

Zhongli ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - As an archon, he's had many people worship him over the years. Perhaps that's why it was truly ironic how he was the one doing the worshipping right now. He just couldn't help himself. How could he not when you came out of the bathroom looking so pretty? So enticing?

He couldn't help but to gently pick you up and place you on the bed like you were the most precious object known to man. He couldn't help but to kiss ever inch of you, touching all of you in a way that had you whispering his name like a prayer. Every touch translated to 'I love you', every kiss was a reminder of his devotion to you.

Even when his tongue lapped at your soaked pussy, circling your clit in a way that made you wither, he showed his dedication to you. It was intoxicating the way he his ring finger teased your throbbing hole. It felt so good that you swore he turned you delirious. All you could focus on was him and how his fingers curled up inside you, hitting pleasurable parts deep within your velvety walls with expertise.

He was mesmerized with how you gushed around him, slick dripping down his hand. He watched attentively as he bit into the sensitive flesh of your thighs, marking you as his. A constant reminder of him only for you to see.

Zhongli couldn't help but to wear a loving smile, thrusting his fingers faster, sucking on your clit harder just to watch your eyes roll to the back of your head. Such simplicity yet your legs were quivering, body shivering and moans reverberating off the bedroom walls. The taste of your love was so addicting that he didn't stop even when you squirted all over his hand. How could he stop when you were practically riding his fingers for another orgasm, hips grinding down with need.

[itstheghostofmypast]

16.51

University Student P.Seonghwa x (F)Reader

Summary: Sometimes, you just need a sugar boost and some Lego sets to make your day a bit brighter - oh, don't forget the main ingredient, Park Seonghwa.

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.1K

Est.Read Time: 5 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

A/N: For my hardworking girlboss- @edenesth (a late bday present of sorts).

With a heavy sigh, she placed her bag on the bench before slumping down beside it. Whoever said university was fun deserved a special place in hell. Two years in, and she still had to sit on a patch of grass surrounded by her friends, all looking up at the camera with smiles that would put toothpaste ads to shame. Not to mention the endless hours of back-to-back classes, followed by the nonsensical amount of assignments and projects given to them, all made her wonder what exactly was this all for? She was not birthed to become a slave of capitalism, a slave of the system- she was but a mere butterfly, all too willing to flutter around in an endless field of opportunities, skipping from one soft petal to another, tasting the sweet essence of a blissful and youthful life.

Or she could get a rubber-clad four walled white room, at least she'd be able to pass off being delusional as a crazy person, rather than someone claiming she was so depressed she had begun day dreaming in classes. Her fingers twitched at the thought of how a few juniors caught her crying in a bathroom stall today, though they were far from cruel, their consoling words just made her feel worse- maybe she really wasn't cut out for all of this. This hectic schedule, this hectic lifestyle, these expectations.

She was so invested in falling down her pit of misery and despair that she didn't notice someone pick up her back, replacing it with their own presence, nor did she notice the way he was now staring at her, for a good long while too. Her attention was grabbed by a sharp ice-coldness that spread across her numbing cheek causing her to jerk away as she gasped, cupping her cold, wet cheek, turning to glare at whoever was foolish enough to mess with her- oh.

“You know…one bad presentation doesn't define you…wasn't even that bad.”

The rumble of his hushed voice had her senses tingle, perhaps his ASMR hobby was actually well worth it, though he was still an idiot because even a dead man could see how bad her presentation was today. She tilted her head to glare at him, but once again, her view was obstructed by a condensed plastic cup filled with some kind neon green beverage - he was probably trying out those horribly weekly juices again.

“You weren't even paying attention today,” with a soft mumble she sat back straight, her legs spread out in front of her, head leaning against the uncomfortable back of the bench, staring up at the pastel adorned sky, could this day take any longer to end? Closing her eyes, she continued, “And also, you're lucky the lecturer didn't catch you. How many times have I told you not to show up in my class? Especially if it's not your majo-ack!” she choked at the sudden intrusion, something stabbing the back of her throat before disappearing as quickly as it had come.

“Shit- sorry! Why'd you open your mouth!?” He gasped, pulling back the drink, trying to not laugh at how comical it was- yes, he felt bad because he hurt her, but it was ironic how his romantic gesture just had him blowing around.

Swatting his hand away she glared at him, at his hideously good-looking face, at his stupid boba eyes, and his hair -at this point she wanted him to trim it because he was serving more looks that needed, especially with so many people eying him. With a huff, she crossed her arms over her chest and turned to face him, “Exactly why are you here, Park Seonghwa!?”

“Me?” He pointed to himself with the cup in hand, before bringing the plastic straw to his pouty lips, taking a sip and humming, “I came to cheer up my butterfly, got her a treat too, but instead almost killed her.” With that, he 'carefully’ pressed the straw against her lips, this time being cautious not to stab her again this time. His smile deepened at the way she took a sip, watching the way her eyes twinkle at the taste, or perhaps the rush of sugar that she oh so desperately needed after the horrid day. He let her hold the cup, busy drinking away, his hand now reaching up to her face, gently caressing her cheek with his knuckles before his finger tucked the few loose strands behind her ear, “I'm sorry today didn't work out as planned.”

Placing the empty cup between them she sighed, facing him with a small smile, thankful to have someone like him, to have someone like him take care of her, be there for her, smile at her, pull her up when she was down I the dumps, have her try new things- like this Kiwi and Pineapple juice. He may have been a bit thick skulled sometimes, sometimes his inner nerd would win as hed demand they build random lego sets in the middle of the night, or he'd force her to watch him play Animal Crossing- but one thing for was for sure, reaching forward she placed her hand on his, giving it a light squeeze.

“It's alright…I'm glad you were there, it made me feel better.”

At that, he tugged her closer, pulling her into his warm embrace, giggling when he felt her sigh into his neck, gripping his shirt as if she was afraid he'd disappear. Truthfully, even during the whole mess of her presentation, the only reason she had kept going was because he was there, smiling at her, silently rooting for her, encouraging her to go on- then instantly hiding when her lecturer turned around to look at whom she was staring at, her handsome, caring, loving clown.

“I'm glad it did because I missed a test today, so at least I know it was for nothing.” He hummed, chin atop her head, enjoying the moment -

“YOU WHAT!?” Shoving him away, she glared at him wide-eyed, a test!? He skipped a test to be there!? She wasn't sure if she were to find this romantic or just stupid-

“Oh my, would you look at the time!” Standing up, he grabbed her bag, slinging it over his shoulder, grabbing the empty cup before gripping her wrist with his free hand and pulling her up, “Let us go, fairy princess!! Time to build your castle lego set! SO WE CAN HAVE OUR HAPPILY EVER AFTER FOREVER!” He declared ragging her along ignoring her complain about him not taking his academics seriously- who cared about a stupid test, he'd make up for it with extra work, all Park Seonghwa could think of all day, was her, because if he was sure about anything about his anxious, doubtful, self-conscious existence, was that she was his reason of being.

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