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sexbot300 · 8 months ago

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18+, minors dni! (being a slut for nanami bc honestly who isn’t)

authors note: hello! this is my first-ever post, i hope you guys enjoy it! (I literally have no idea how layouts work yet, bear with me)

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sugardaddy!nanami who scolds you whenever you feel as if you’re “doing too much,” with all the lavish gifts he gives you. nothing is too much for his angel.

sugardaddy!nanami that asks which jewelry set you like best. emerald or ruby? ah. how about both?

sugardaddy!nanami who you thought would be a joyless, serious man as people portray him. they’re not lying, he really is serious, to people that aren’t you. you’ll witness a soft side of him that only shows the most gentle of smiles.

sugardaddy!nanami who gladly scoops you up bridal style in his arms, walking while you burry your head into his chest.

sugardaddy!nanami who unpacks the gifts he gets you on the countertop after a business trip. “kento, baby, you shouldn’t have.” you play with the polyester ribbon while he simply leans back on the fridge opening up a beverage. “I couldn’t help but have the prettiest woman in the world waiting for me at home. it would be embarrassing of me to show up empty-handed.”

sugardaddy!nanami who for the first few times that you went out with him, meticulously kept track of the things you called “cute” and noted wherever your eyes wandered for a minute too long. the next morning you woke up with everything you ogled your eyes at decorating your room. attached is a note that read, “please forgive me, sweetheart, I didn’t know which you liked best. p.s. my sincerest apologies again, I let my own thoughts get carried away. be good for me and wear this tonight.” your fingers gingerly held onto the note, until your eyes fell on two things you don’t remember looking at when you went out shopping. a beautiful silk gown and an expensive lingerie set.

sugardaddy!nanami who will gladly kneel to strap your heel, placing a kiss on your ankle, after trailing his hand up and down your shin.

sugardaddy!nanami who sends you a monthly allowance for your hair, nails, skincare, and whatever you desire.

sugardaddy!nanami who thinks indulging in materialistic things is futile, but he wants to see you decorated in every fine piece of fabric, clothing, and accessories.

sugardaddy!nanami who acts as if he’s unbothered by you curling up on his lap while he types away on his work computer. you couldn’t even tell how much he adores every second of this as he idly types away. he loves to have you pushed up on him all the time, the minute you slightly move? a strong hand is placed on your thigh or waist to prevent you from leaving.

sugardaddy!nanami who’s only condition is to continue this dynamic until you’re unhappy or want nothing to do with it. (you literally want to marry this man but okay).

sugardaddy!nanami who has a saturday night ritual with you where you buy the most extravagant of desserts and feed it to each other. oh yeah, you have to be sitting on his lap the entire time while you both feed each other from the same fork.

sugardaddy!nanami who places his nose on the nape of your neck while you’re seated on him as he sharply breathes in your scent. “as much as I enjoy eating sweets with you,” he said in a whisper, “they could never mimic your taste.”

sugardaddy!nanami who started off paying your rent, bills, and utilities which he felt mentally, secretly disgruntled by. not because he’s paying (duh) or he has to take care of you, it’s just the fact you haven’t moved in with him yet.

sugardaddy!nanami who considers you under his care and deems your wellbeing as his responsibility. you’re hurt? point to where. your body is sore? lay back down while he massages you. you’re hungry? food is being sent over and here’s money for grocery shopping. you’re upset? he kneels down in front of you as he attentively listens to your sobs.

sugardaddy!nanami who supports your hobbies. he’ll drop off little things that he knows have to do with your interests and only says, “you like this don’t you?” you name drop pilates, cooking, art, knitting, whatever it is, he signs you up for the nearest classes.

sugardaddy!nanami who actually notices if you did something different with your hair, if you wore a new shade of lip gloss. little things.

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sugardaddy!nanami who places the most tender of kisses onto your forehead like he didn’t wreck your shit a second prior. “such a good girl… i’m so so proud. taking my cock in so well.”

sugardaddy!nanami that plays with your body in subtle ways. hands? his big, veiny fingers are stroking yours gently. thighs? constantly getting gripped. your waist? a strong arm wrapped around it. your cheek? a thumb stroking it. shoulders? relieving tension from it. collarbone? rearranging your necklace so it lays properly. guts? fucked out of place. makeup? smeared all across his luxurious bedsheets. lips? blown out from sucking his monster cock and making out.

sugardaddy!nanami who rents out an entire summer beach house with a glorious view of the ocean. partially because he likes the privacy of you two alone, surrounded by nature, and romantic sunset dinners. also because he wants to watch you ride him while he leans back on a beach chair without disturbing the public. (nobody is allowed to see what’s his).

sugardaddy!nanami who actually pounded you into another dimension, your mind still in a haze while he carries you to the running bath. “stay with me princess, i need to clean you up.”

sugardaddy!nanami who makes sure you finish several times before he does. oh poor baby, you’re out of breath? would you like some water? we’re not finished yet. poor nanami didn’t get to cum once, and you so badly want him to use your body to do so.

sugardaddy!nanami who buys you a personal collection of sex toys to play with when he’s not there. he personally studies the way your body twitches and convulses with certain toys, he needs to know how to please his princess. sometimes he chuckles to himself because he knows deep down, nothing– no one, can please you the way he does.

sugardaddy!nanami who sees you stressed or crying over school and work and quickly replaces those tears with ones of joy.

sugardaddy!nanami who will have you folded like a damn lawn chair and only whisper sweet nothings while drilling into you.

sugardaddy!nanami who has a high sex drive but hides it in the beginning like the gentleman he is, making sure you feel comfortable and safe.

sugardaddy!nanami who gives you the car you’ve been wanting forever. you ride the car for a bit with him ecstatic, kissing him over and over, giggling. you both quickly found a new way to celebrate. you’re pinned down over the glove compartment, one large hand gripping both of yours as they’re pinned to your back, and the sounds of skin slapping with your loud moans mix in the air. “ke-n-toooo~ I-I don’t want to ge- uh! It m-messy in h-ere…” “don’t worry darling, I-” a low grunt comes out, “i always cum inside dont I?” he quickens up the pace only to have you screaming like a whore. “t-that’s it. just take it. It feels good, I know,” he mercilessly pounds into you, kissing your temple, “just come undone on me, that’s it. make me proud.”

sugardaddy!nanami who texts you to quickly come to the office and sends you a cab for an urgent “visit.” why? he’s stressed and his favorite method to cool down is your throat expanding around his girthy dick. he'll grip the strands of your hair while cooing at you, "i know angel, i know. but you look so beautiful right now, don't stop."

sugardaddy!nanami who groans from the stressors of his job, turning his attention to you while he pushes himself back on his chair. he looks down on his bulge before sighing and tugging his tie down left and right. “go ahead. come suck me off, i need it and I know you want it too.”

sugardaddy!nanami who does the whole pillow underneath, hand pressed on lower abdomen, with a vibrator wand abusing your clit.

sugardaddy!nanami who has a diet that consists of devouring your pussy on a regular basis. “b-babe… i- ah! s-slow down,” as you elicit a loud dirty moan that fills the room, “pleaaaase.” if only you knew he takes more pleasure out of this than you and you’re the one gripping his hair to the point of leaving his scalp red. he further pushes his nose into you, mumbling, “beg all you want, I’m not done.”

sugardaddy!nanami who is a gentleman, really. who will kill anything within 5 meters if it remotely threatens you. but he can’t help but admire the way your little cunt can’t fully take it the first few times together.

sugardaddy!nanami who never thought much of daddy kinks, but when he hears “daddy” slip out of your precious mouth, his heels dig deeper into the mattress, his massive body weight shifts crushing you, angling his dick in an almost sinful way while pressing you deeper into a mating press. “say it again.”

sugardaddy!nanami who watches you squirm with a vibrator jammed to your clit and his tongue lapping up and down your cunt like any separation from his tongue and your pussy will cause his death. “k-kento s-stop this feeli- ah! I th- oh god! I think I need to pee!” he can’t help but chuckle in his head. his baby never squirted before until now.

sugardaddy!nanami who secretly wants to get you knocked up. man loves fucking his cum into you. he has such a big breeding kink that you catch on.

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ja3yun · 2 months ago

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Stretch it Out | P.SH

instructor!sunghoon x ballerina!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, mirror sex, pet names (sweatheart, good girl), bad ballet references bc idk what i'm talking about, slight mention of self doubt, not proof read, anything else lmk! wc: 7.4k REQ: ballet intructor!sunghoon helping ballerina!reader stretch and you know where the rest leads to 😼 a/n: hi! i took this request and shuffled it around to make it this! hope this is okay anonnie and i am also so sorry for the late posting of it! i've been working on so much lately and with my little break i didn't do much writing. as always, comments, reblogs, and likes are all welcome!

Applause echoes through the spacious studio as one of your fellow dancers finishes receiving her critique from Mrs. Yang. Her routine was strong, though it seems she needs to work on her turnout - something you hadn't noticed. Perhaps it’s because your nerves are clouding your perception; after all, it will be your turn once she's finished.

The Annual Exhibition is less than two months away, and this will be your first time presenting your completed routine for approval in front of an audience - especially Mrs. Yang, who is more than just an instructor to you; she’s your role model, the person you’ve looked up to throughout your entire ballet journey.

Throughout your high school years, you dedicated your evenings and weekends to ballet school, working tirelessly just for the chance to apply to the National University of Arts and audition in front of Mrs. Yang. For months leading up to this moment, you poured everything into perfecting your pliés and pirouettes. Blisters marred your feet, and exhaustion settled deep in your bones, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was proving yourself worthy.

“Y/N, you’re up,” Mrs. Yang’s voice echoes through the studio like a haunting ghost.

Following her words, you get up and shake off any nerves you have, all too aware of the impact performing badly will have; she could cut you from the exhibition or tell you to scrap the routine entirely, and both of those are not an option for you.

Now, as you step forward to take your place at the centre of the studio, the weight of the moment presses down on you. Every muscle is tense with anticipation, and your heart races as you prepare to dance.

The music begins, and you launch into your routine. At first, the nerves are overwhelming - each movement feels too stiff, too calculated. But as you glide into an arabesque and sweep through a series of pirouettes, something shifts. The familiar rhythm of the dance takes over, and your body begins to move almost on its own, flowing through each step with a grace you didn't know you possessed.

You’re hyper-aware of Mrs. Yang’s presence, of her eyes following your every move, but instead of faltering, you find yourself sinking deeper into the performance. Each développé stretches to its fullest extent, each sauté feels lighter than air. Your breathing steadies and the tension in your muscles transforms into power and control.

As you close the final sequence with a grand jeté, landing with a precise yet delicate touch, you can feel the room holding its breath. You finish in a graceful reverence, chest heaving but mind calm. In this moment, all the hours of hard work, the pain, and the sacrifices feel worth it. You've given everything you have.

But as you glance at Mrs. Yang, it doesn’t look like she’s as satisfied with your performance as you are. Her face is stoic, unreadable, but you’ve been in her class long enough to decipher even the subtlest of her expressions. The slight raise of her right eyebrow sends a wave of dread crashing through you. That’s never a good sign. Her eyes cling to you with the intensity of an unwanted gaze, leaving an uncomfortable knot twisting in your stomach.

She remains quiet for a few minutes, the silence stretching unbearably as though she’s gathering her words. When she finally speaks, her tone is clipped, measured. “It’s good, modern, and meets the criteria.”

You brace yourself, knowing that a ‘but’ is coming.

“But,” she continues, and you wince slightly, “you are not sharp enough. I mean seriously, Y/N, how many times do I need to pull you up for this? Do you not want to improve?”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You don’t want to disappoint her. You gave everything you had in that performance, even though it was just a run-through. But it’s clear that it wasn’t enough.

You bow your head, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Yang’s irritation sharpens. “Then for the love of God, can you listen to me this time?” She stands up, her movements precise and deliberate as she walks over to you. Her voice is firm, tinged with exasperation. “This exhibition is crucial to your future career. It’s what sets you apart from the others, and yet you seem to lack such basic skills. Even the first years are forming lines better than you.”

Her words slice through you, each one a reminder of the standards you’ve failed to meet. The sting of her tone is almost unbearable, but you know deep down that it comes from a place of faith. She nitpicks because she sees potential in you, potential she wants to help you realise. Each six-month review she’s had with you, she’s made it clear that she believes you can make it far in this world.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Yang,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“Apologise to yourself, not to me.”

A chorus of snickers drifts from the edge of the room. You glance over to see a group of girls, giggling and holding in laughter, their eyes full of condescension. The sound pierces through your already fragile self-belief, making you shrink into yourself, every snicker chipping away at whatever confidence you had left. Doubt begins to creep in, gnawing at the edges of your resolve. You start questioning whether you’re truly cut out for this, whether all the sacrifices you’ve made have been for nothing.

Before you can spiral too deeply into your own thoughts, Mrs. Yang’s fingers press firmly against your cheek, gently but insistently turning your face to meet hers. “You can’t do this on your own, so I’m assigning you a coach.”

“But you are my coach,” you reply, your voice tinged with confusion.

“Yes, but I don’t have time to give you hours of one-on-one training,” she says, rolling her eyes as if that statement should be obvious. She strides back to her seat, preparing to evaluate the next girl in line. “I have someone in mind. They’re very fluid and pointed in their gestures. They should whip you into shape. I’ll book you an out-of-hours studio for the foreseeable.”

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. You stand there, rooted to the spot, unable to fully process what she’s just said. Sure, she’ll still be your instructor during scheduled lessons, but this means that on top of your gruelling 12-hour days, your endless rehearsals, and the constant pressure to perfect every move, you’ll now have to spend extra time with a new coach.

It’s overwhelming. The thought of adding yet another layer of intensity to your already packed schedule makes your head spin. Your body, already pushed to its limits, protests at the idea of even more hours in the studio. Your heart sinks as the reality of the situation sets in. How will you manage it all? How will you balance the expectations of not one but two demanding mentors?

You want to succeed, to rise to the challenge, but a part of you is terrified that you’ll crumble under the weight of it all. The path ahead, already steep and treacherous, has just become even more daunting.

As Mrs. Yang calls out the name of the next dancer, you force yourself to step aside, the familiar sting of exhaustion settling into your bones.

You can only hope that this new coach makes it worth your while.

_____

The long day of classes has left you drained, every muscle aching with the residue of endless rehearsals and critiques. The last thing you want to do is spend more time in the studio, yet here you are, trudging down the empty hallways of the performance centre with your gym bag slung over your shoulder. The familiar scent of rosin and sweat lingers in the air, and you can't help but feel a pang of dread at the thought of more practice. Your mind buzzes with the memory of Mrs. Yang’s words earlier this week, her disappointment, and the pressure of living up to expectations weighing heavily on your shoulders.

As you push open the door to the studio, your eyes fall on an unfamiliar figure - a boy standing with his back to you. He’s tall, strikingly so, with broad shoulders that taper down into a lean, athletic frame. His dark hair is tousled, falling just above the nape of his neck, and he’s dressed in loose joggers and a fitted white tank top that highlights the sinewy lines of his muscles.

You hesitate in the doorway, momentarily taken aback by his presence. The studio had been booked for you, and the last thing you want is a confrontation with a stranger. You clear your throat softly, hoping to catch his attention. “Um, hello?” you say timidly, your voice barely above a whisper. You hope that a gentle approach will encourage him to leave without any fuss.

The boy whips around at the sound of your voice, and your breath catches in your throat. His face is nothing short of breathtaking; sharp, elegant features softened by a small, almost shy smile. His eyes, a deep, captivating brown, seem to sparkle with quiet intensity as he takes in your appearance. For a moment, you’re struck by how impossibly beautiful he is, like a sculptor’s masterpiece brought to life. He seems too perfect, too unreal, and you feel a strange flutter in your chest as you meet his gaze.

“Hi,” he says, his voice smooth and warm, like a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. He’s still studying you, and you can’t help but take the opportunity to do the same, noting every detail of his flawless face - the way his lips curve slightly upwards, the sharpness of his jawline, the softness of his eyes.

You blink, trying to regain your composure. “I don’t mean to be rude,” you start, hoping to keep your tone polite, “but my teacher booked me this room for a few hours.”

He raises an eyebrow, his small smile never fading. “Four hours to be exact, yeah. She also booked you…me.” The confusion must be evident on your face because he adds, “I’m your coach, Sunghoon.”

“You?” The word slips out before you can stop it, and you instantly regret how incredulous you sound. The last thing you want is to offend him, but the shock of the situation has thrown you off balance.

“Yeah, me. Why?” His tone is still light, but there’s a hint of defensiveness in his voice, and that sends you into a mild panic. You quickly shake your head, trying to salvage the situation.

“No, no, I’m not trying to say anything negative,” you stammer, holding up your hands as if to ward off any misunderstanding. “It’s just… I’ve never seen you around the performance centre, let alone the ballet corridor.”

He nods, seeming to understand your confusion. “That’s because you’ll find me in the sports centre.”

You take a moment to size him up, your mind racing as you try to figure out what sport he could possibly play. He’s too lean to be a rugby player, his legs too slender to be a footballer, but he’s tall enough to be a basketball player. You consider the possibility of him being a rower or maybe a gymnast, but nothing quite fits. He’s a mystery, one that piques your curiosity.

As if reading your thoughts, he interrupts your internal questioning. “I’m a figure skater.”

The revelation surprises you, and you can’t help but blurt out, “Oh.” You pause, trying to piece together why a figure skater would be chosen to coach you in ballet. Placing your bag to the side of the room, you turn to him again. “So why are you coaching me?”

“Why can’t I?” he counters, his tone holding a subtle challenge that makes you feel slightly defensive. “Mrs. Yang said you’re having trouble looking elegant and punctuated in your movements. Skaters have the same problem.”

You nod slowly, but a part of you is still sceptical. “But you guys have ice and skates. I have a wooden floor and ballet pumps.”

A laugh escapes his lips before he quickly covers his mouth, a look of apology flashing across his face. “Sorry, it’s just…what does that have to do with anything?”

You frown, still not entirely convinced. “You guys have blades to move you. I have to coordinate my legs to move me. You guys can think about fluidity and movement.”

He crosses his arms, his expression becoming more serious as he regards you with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. “Do you know how ridiculous you sound? We have to balance on a tiny blade and have every chance to slip or crash from a jump.”

His words hang in the air, and you suddenly feel a bit foolish for your assumptions. Of course, figure skating requires immense skill and precision - maybe even more so than ballet, given the added challenge of balancing on ice.

“Okay, fair point,” you admit, feeling a bit sheepish. You also hate it when people underestimate the skill and energy it takes to perform ballet, and yet here you are doing it to him about his own sport.

He steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours, and you find yourself holding your breath under his gaze. “I know you were expecting some ballet genius to help you but our arts are similar. It’s about control, balance, and grace,” he explains. “On the ice, every movement needs to be both powerful and delicate. The same applies to ballet. You need to find that balance between strength and elegance. That’s where I come in.”

You nod slowly, beginning to understand his perspective. The way he speaks, the passion in his voice, makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, this might actually work. “And you think you can teach me that?”

“I know I can,” he says confidently, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “If you’re willing to put in the effort, that is.”

There’s a challenge in his words, one that you can’t resist rising to. You’ve always prided yourself on your work ethic, and you’re not about to let anyone doubt your dedication.

“I am,” you reply firmly, meeting his gaze with determination.

Sunghoon starts the session by having you go through your routine. His eyes are sharp, missing nothing as he watches you move across the floor. You’re acutely aware of his presence, the way his gaze seems to weigh on your every step, every turn, every jump. It’s unnerving at first, but you push through the discomfort, focusing on executing each movement with precision.

When you finish, he steps forward, nodding thoughtfully. “You’re good,” he says, and the praise sends a warm flush of satisfaction through you and a blush to your cheeks. “But you’re too tense. You’re overthinking every move, and it shows. Ballet is as much about feeling as it is about technique. You need to let go a little.”

You frown slightly, not entirely sure how to do that. “Let go?”

“Yeah,” he says, moving to stand beside you. “Your muscles are too tight, your movements too calculated. It’s like you’re afraid of making a mistake, so you’re holding back.”

You look down at the floor, his words hitting a little too close to home. You’ve always been afraid of making mistakes, always felt the pressure to be perfect. It’s something that’s been drilled into you since you first started dancing, and it’s hard to shake.

He must sense your hesitation because he steps closer, his voice softening. “Hey,” he says gently, and you look up to find his eyes full of understanding. “I get it. But if you keep holding back, you’re never going to reach your full potential.”

There’s something in his voice that makes you want to trust him, something that makes you feel like maybe he understands you in a way that others don’t. You nod slowly, taking a deep breath as you try to let go of the tension in your body.

“Good,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips. “Now, let’s try something different.”

_____

For two hours straight, you push your body to its limits, executing each movement with precision and determination. Sunghoon’s voice fills the studio, giving you sharp, pointed instructions that you follow without question. But as the minutes tick by, the atmosphere begins to shift. The calm, encouraging demeanour he started with fades, replaced with a growing tension that seems to coil around the two of you, tightening with each correction he makes.

“Extend more,” he snaps as you move through a series of arabesques. His tone is snappier now, the softness from before replaced with something harsher. “You’re still too stiff.”

You grit your teeth, focusing on stretching every muscle to its fullest, making sure each line is as precise as possible. But no matter how much you try, his dissatisfaction only seems to grow.

“Again,” he commands, his voice laced with frustration. You try to push your discontent down, channelling it into your movements, but the more you try, the more his critiques seem to cut through you.

“You’re losing focus. How are you going to perform on stage if you can’t even manage this in practice?”

The sting of his criticism hits you deep, and you can feel your confidence waver. Are you really that bad? You’re hitting the moves correctly, focusing intently on your lines - the very aspect of the performance Mrs. Yang had criticised you for. You’re doing everything he’s asking, so why is he still so frustrated? Shouldn’t he be pleased that his coaching is starting to take effect?

You execute a pirouette, landing with precision, but the instant your foot touches the ground, Sunghoon’s voice cuts through the air. “No,” he says sharply, shaking his head. “You’re not following through. Where’s the energy? The intention?”

“I’m trying!” The words slip out before you can stop them, frustration bubbling over. Your chest heaves with exertion, and you meet his eyes, desperate for some sign that he understands how hard you’re working, how much you’re giving.

But his expression remains hard, unreadable, and that only fuels the growing tension between you. “Trying isn’t enough,” he snaps back, stepping closer, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You need to do more than just hit the moves. You have to feel them. Right now, you’re just going through the motions. There’s no passion, no fire.”

His words cut deep, and you feel a flare of anger mixed with hurt. “I’m doing exactly what you asked,” you retort, unable to keep the edge out of your voice. “I’m focusing on the lines, on the form. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yes,” he says, his frustration palpable, “but you’re missing the point. It’s not just about form; it’s about bringing the movements to life. Right now, you’re nothing more than a marionette, moving because you’re being told to, not because you’re actually feeling the dance.”

The comparison stings and you can feel yourself reaching boiling point. You’ve been working so hard, pushing yourself beyond what you thought you were capable of, and yet here you are, being told that it’s still not enough. A part of you wants to shout at him, to tell him that he doesn’t understand how hard this is, how much pressure you’re under. But instead, you swallow the words, letting the irritation simmer beneath the surface.

Sunghoon’s gaze softens, just a fraction, but it’s enough to make you feel the weight of his expectations even more acutely. “I know you can do better. Mrs. Yang told me you’re one of her best students,” he says, his voice gentler now with the content, though no less intense. “That’s why I’m pushing you. I need you to push yourself. You’ve got so much potential, but something’s holding you back. What is it?”

His question hangs in the air, heavy and probing. For a moment, you’re at a loss for words. Why are you holding back? Is it the fear of failing? Fear that you’ll never be good enough? Or maybe, deep down, you just don’t believe in yourself.

The silence between you stretches, thick with hostility. Sunghoon steps closer, his presence almost overwhelming, the heat radiating off him nearly suffocating. You can feel the intensity of his gaze, a challenge flickering in his eyes, daring you to shatter whatever invisible barrier is restraining you.

He’s so close now that you can see the tight set of his jaw, the way his eyes blaze with a fire that sends a shiver down your spine. The frustration is palpable, a tangible force crackling in the air, making it feel electric, charged with something both exhilarating and frightening.

With a firm but gentle touch, Sunghoon places his hands on your shoulders, turning you to face the mirror. He steps in behind you, closing the space between your bodies. “Look at yourself,” he says, his voice low and resonant. “See how tense you are?” His large hands slide down from your shoulders, tracing the line of your body. “Every muscle is knotted up. You can’t perform at your best unless you loosen up. Stop overthinking. Just…let go.”

Your eyes meet his in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, and in that instant, the world seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you, close enough to feel each other’s breath. Then, almost instinctively, his fingers press into your sides, firm and commanding, gliding up your waist and torso with deliberate slowness. The sensation sends a wave of heat through your body, and your breath catches as he lifts your arms, stretching your upper half with a fluid motion that leaves you feeling vulnerable and exposed.

“Feel this,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the nape of your neck, sending another quake over your body. He holds your wrists above your head with one hand, the other pressing into your lower back, making you hyper-aware of the heat emanating from him. “See how good that feels?”

Using his knuckles, he circles the bottom of your spine, dissolving any knots and doubts from it. You resist the urge to moan but your eyes roll to the back of your head as you push your hips into him, aching for more of his magical touch. Out of all the massages you have ever had, this tiny glimmer of one beats them all.

His breath spreads over your skin, and his fingers tighten slightly around your wrists as he holds you in place. Once you bring your eyes forward, he locks in with yours in the mirror. His piercing stare is intense and your heart quickens, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

“You like that?” Sunghoon asks, the smirk plastered on his face as he feels you grinding onto his growing boner. He can see you wanting to let go in the reflection of your eyes as well as the neediness in your breaths, giving him all the consent he needs to take this further.

As he releases your wrists, his hand trails down your shoulders and back to meet the other. The heat of his touch seeps through the fabric of your top, firm yet tender. His fingers glide along your spine, coaxing your body to arch into the movement, a soft sigh escaping your lips. His touch is skilled, knowing exactly where to press and where to ease, melting away the tension in your muscles, leaving you pliant under his hands.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispers, the edge in his voice betraying his awareness of the effect he’s having on you. The connection is almost too intense to bear. But you can’t look away, drawn to the magnetic pull between you. He slides his hands over your sides and across your lower abdomen, fingers digging slightly into your muscles, the pressure both soothing and intoxicating as he massages your belly and hips.

You instinctively begin to lower your arms, the proximity making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. But his grip tightens around your waist in warning. “No, keep your arms up, sweetheart,” he says, his tone demanding, the instructor in him resurfacing.

Resting his hand flatly on your stomach, his fingers spread as he pulls you flush against him, your back meeting the solid expanse of his chest. The contact makes you acutely aware of every point where your bodies touch, your heart hammering in your chest as your breath catches. His hands linger at the waistband of your leggings, before slowly, his hands dip down, fingers brushing against your skin, exploring with deliberate, teasing slowness. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity through you, your skin tingling under his touch.

His hands move lower, the anticipation building with every inch he covers. You can feel your muscles trembling, your arms still stretched above your head as he asked, but the effort to maintain the position becomes increasingly difficult with every passing second.

His fingers find your folds, slipping between them with an agonising slowness that leaves you gasping. The sensation is overwhelming, your body instinctively moving with his fingers, but he’s quick to remind you of his control. “Keep your arms up, be a good girl and listen,” he murmurs, his voice laced with a quiet authority that leaves no room for disobedience.

The smirk on his face is unmistakable as he watches you struggle to comply, the tension between following his instructions and giving in to the intoxicating pull of his touch almost unbearable. His fingers continue their slow exploration, teasing and tormenting you with a skill that leaves you trembling, your resolve weakening with every passing moment.

Impulse begs you to let your arms fall, to collapse into his embrace, but his gaze holds you in place, that smirk still playing on his lips as he watches you battle with your own desires. The contrast between his command and the sheer pleasure he’s coaxing from your body is dizzying, leaving you on the edge of surrender.

Yet, despite the intense need coursing through you, you force yourself to keep your arms raised, stretching above your head, the effort only adding to the thrill coursing through your veins. His fingers move with deliberate intent now, pressing deeper, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body that make it almost impossible to think, to breathe.

Sunghoon’s fingers expertly play with your pussy, two of them circling your sensitive nub with a maddening precision that leaves you dizzy. “Do you feel how exhausted your arms are?” he asks, his voice tinged with a hint of smugness, as though expecting an answer despite your obvious distraction.

Nodding, you squeeze your eyes shut so tightly that white spots dance behind your lids, a kaleidoscope of fleeting lights against the darkness. The burn in your arms is a sharp contrast to the way your hips instinctively move, undulating in perfect sync with his skilled fingers. It's a delicious torment—the strain in your muscles somehow amplifies the pleasure coiling low in your belly, turning every sensation sharper, more intense.

Suddenly, his lips are on your neck, a gentle press of heat that sends a shiver cascading down your spine, threatening to unravel you completely. The warmth of his mouth on your skin is your undoing, and before you can stop yourself, your arms give way. You collapse forward, hands scrambling to find purchase, seeking him instinctively as if he's the only thing keeping you grounded. Your fingers dig into his arms, nails biting into his skin as you cling to him, desperate for stability in the storm he's unleashed within you.

"See how loose you feel?" His voice is a murmur against your neck, each word a hot, teasing caress. "How your body wants to move on its own, to give in? That’s how your performance should be."

As if to punctuate his point, his fingers slide inside you, the sudden, intimate invasion tearing a sharp gasp from your lips. Your hips buck against his hand, craving more, driven by the need he’s ignited in you. His other arm tightens around your waist, holding you close, anchoring you to him as his fingers continue their relentless rhythm, each stroke designed to push you further, closer to the edge.

The atmosphere around you thickens, every breath heavy with the electric tension between you. The heat radiating from his body seeps into yours, an overwhelming presence that consumes you, making it impossible to think of anything but the here and now. The scent of him - musky, intoxicating - fills your senses, making you feel lightheaded, dizzy with desire. You can feel the hardness of his arousal pressing insistently against your lower back, a solid reminder of his own need, adding fuel to the fire already burning within you.

His pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, more urgently, more demanding. "Even your pussy is so tight," he murmurs, his tone more observation than criticism. "Do I need to open this up too?"

Your laboured breathing is your only response, mingling with the slick, rhythmic sounds of his hand moving inside you. The coil of pleasure in your core tightens with every thrust, winding tighter and tighter, the pressure building until you feel like you might shatter from the intensity of it.

Your hands clutch at his arm, desperate, seeking something solid to hold onto as your legs threaten to buckle beneath you. His fingers curl inside you, finding that perfect spot that sends your vision spinning, a raw, needy moan escaping your lips. The feeling of his hard length pressing against you, coupled with the masterful way his fingers work you, has your entire body humming with sensation, alive with the need to surrender to the pleasure he’s offering.

Sunghoon’s mouth returns to your neck, lips brushing over your sensitive skin, his teeth grazing lightly as he sucks, sending another jolt of arousal through you. "That’s it," he murmurs against your skin, his voice a low, rough command that vibrates through you. "Let go. Feel it. This is how you should be."

His words wrap around you like a spell, breaking down the last of your restraint. Your body moves with his, falling into the rhythm he’s set, lost in the heat and desire pulsing between you. Every stroke, every touch, draws you deeper into the abyss of pleasure, until all you can do is let go and let him guide you.

“Fuck, Sunghoon,” you manage to mewl, your voice trembling, breathless, as you throw your head back, letting it rest against his chest.

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, the sound reverberating through you, adding to the fire already blazing in your veins. His lips trail up to your ear, his tongue flicking against your earlobe, a playful, teasing nip that sends another shiver racing down your spine. “That’s it,” he whispers, his voice thick with a mix of amusement and desire. His fingers curl inside you again, hitting that spot that makes your entire body jerk in his hold, another gasp torn from your throat. “You like this, don’t you? You’re such a perfect student, so eager to please.”

All you can do is nod, biting down on your lip to stifle the moans threatening to spill over. He hums appreciatively, his hot breath brushing against your ear, the sensation sending another ripple of pleasure through you. “Good,” he purrs, his voice low and commanding, like the instructor he is. “You’re a quick learner when you want to be. You respond so well to guidance.”

Without warning, his hand shifts, thumb finding your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your hips jerk involuntarily. Your vision blurs, stars dancing before your eyes as the pleasure crashes over you in waves, each one pulling you deeper into the sensation. His fingers move with expert precision, relentless in their pursuit of your release, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

In the mirror before you, Sunghoon’s eyes lock onto you, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he relishes in watching the pleasure contort your face. "You’re moving perfectly, not overthinking, just feeling how you should," he murmurs, almost to himself, pride evident in his voice.

Just as you feel yourself teetering on the brink, he slows his movements, dragging out your pleasure, keeping you suspended on the edge. You whimper with need, the desperation in your voice only making him grin wider. His lips brush against your ear, his voice a dark, seductive whisper that sends your brain into orbit. "You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you? Be a good dancer and let go, show me how well you can perform."

It’s not a question; it’s a command. And with one final, skilled stroke, he pushes you over the edge, sending you spiralling into a climax that tears through you, leaving every atom in your body shaking with intensity and your muscles instantly tensing, just to relax once again.

As the tremors subside, you feel his hands shift, fingers hooking into the waistband of your leggings. “We’re just getting started,” he murmurs, a hint of something dark and promising in his voice. Slowly, he pulls them down, the fabric dragging against your skin, heightening your sensitivity. “You’re still tight,” he observes, voice low, almost thoughtful. “We need to work on that.”

He positions himself behind you, the heat of his body a stark contrast to the cool air against your bare skin. Pushing his joggers and boxers down to his thighs, he lets his hard cock spring free, your body shielding it from the mirror in front of you, but as he drags it along your folds, you get a sense of the thick, long shaft he is about to impale you with.

His hand moves to your hips, guiding you, adjusting your stance, and your hands find home on the mirror in front of you, fingers splaying across the cool glass. “Arch your back,” he instructs, voice firm yet gentle, as if this were just another rehearsal. “Relax into it…let me in.”

With a measured, almost calculated precision, he enters you, the sensation of him filling you completely making you gasp. In the mirror, your reflection catches your eye, your mouth falling open as you watch him disappear inside you. “Oh god,” you moan, the image of your bodies coming together, the way he stretches you, only intensifying the sensation. “Sunghoon…”

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet, wrapping around you, pulling you deeper into the moment. “Look at yourself,” he commands softly, his breath hot against your ear. “See how your body opens up when you let go? When you stop fighting and just let the movement happen? That’s how you get perfect lines.”

His pace is slow at first, methodical, every thrust a deliberate stroke meant to coax your body into submission. Your eyes lock onto your reflection, the sight of his hips moving against yours, the way your skin flushes with arousal, captivating. “Fuck, your pussy is sensational,” he breathes, a hint of strain in his voice as he pulls back slightly, only to push deeper. “Almost as good as your allegro.”

You let out a broken moan, your gaze flicking between his intense expression in the mirror and the way his muscles are contracting in his arms as he firms his grip on your waist, focusing on pounding into you with fervour. “Sunghoon… more… please…”

Each movement of his hips is like a masterclass, each squeeze from his hands and twitch of his cock only making your body ache for more. “Don’t hold back,” he whispers, his grip on your hips tightening, pulling you closer. “Let your body respond to mine.”

Your eyes widen as he leans forward slightly, the angle allowing you to see more of him in the mirror, his jaw tightening with every thrust. “Feels so good,” you manage to gasp out, your voice breathy, desperate as you push back against him, trying to take him deeper. “Please, don’t stop…”

The mirror reflects the sheen of sweat forming on your skin, the way your body arches into his touch, how every line of your form matches the rhythm he’s set. Your body moves with his, every thrust pushing you closer to that edge again, every word sinking deeper into your mind. His hand slides down your stomach, fingers finding your clit once more, adding that extra layer of stimulation that has your legs shaking. “That’s it,” he coaxes, voice rich with approval. “Give in to it. Let your body move the way it wants to…the way it needs to.”

“Sunghoon… oh, god… I’m gonna-” Your words cut off in a whimper as his pace quickens, the pace he sets becoming more intense, more demanding, each thrust designed to unravel you, to push you past your limits.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs into your neck, his gaze flickering up to meet yours in the mirror, watching how your breath fogs up the glass in front of you and your fingers claw down the flat surface in an attempt to grip onto something tangible. The sight of you coming undone in the reflection only seems to spur him on, his hips snapping against yours with renewed vigour.

“Sunghoon, I-” you try to speak, but the words dissolve into a moan as he thrusts deeper, hitting a spot that makes your vision blur and stars dance before your eyes, the bell of his cock kissing the sensitive spot inside your walls.

“Show me,” he commands, his voice like a conductor’s baton, directing the crescendo. “Show me how beautifully you can fall apart.”

Sunghoon’s arm wraps securely around your waist, pulling your trembling body back against his chest. The new angle allows him to thrust even deeper, the motion sending shockwaves of pleasure through you, each stroke of his cock searing itself into your memory. You feel completely filled by him, the sensation overwhelming as your reflection quakes, your body obeying every demand he silently makes. Your muscles clench around him, and as your head falls back against his shoulder, you cry out his name.

The mirror captures every detail - the flush of your skin, the arch of your back, the way your mouth opens in a silent scream as another intense climax rips through you. This one is even more powerful than the last, leaving you utterly undone, your body shaking in his arms as he holds you steady.

As the waves of pleasure begin to ebb, your eyes lock onto the mirror once more. You see yourself as Sunghoon sees you raw, vulnerable, but also strong, capable of surrendering and finding beauty in letting go. For a moment, all you can see is the perfect dancer he’s crafted, the one who’s learned to trust the rhythm and fall apart beautifully.

Chasing his own release, he begins to buck his hips in a fast, sharp manner, aware that two orgasms on your end could make you extra sensitive. Your pussy milks his cock as he cums deep inside of you, his nails scratching your hips and down your ass, as he moans out your name, chanting it like a hymn during confession.

His chest heaves against your back and he kisses anywhere he can on your neck and shoulders to ground himself in the present, bringing himself down from his high.

As he slowly slides out of you, his arms never leave your body, keeping you close. He gently lowers you to the ground, sitting you down and holding you against him. Your body feels like jelly, completely spent, but his embrace is comforting. He presses soft kisses to the back of your head, his breath warm against your damp skin.

"You did so well, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice tender, full of pride.

You tilt your head back slightly, looking up at him with a small, exhausted smile. "I don’t think I’m supposed to be this relaxed when I perform at the exhibition," you manage to say, a breathless giggle escaping your lips.

Sunghoon chuckles along with you, the sound vibrating through your body where you're pressed against him. He shakes his head, brushing a few strands of hair away from your sweaty face. "No, you should have some feeling in your bones," he agrees, wiping the moisture from your brow with the back of his hand. "But do you see how, when you let yourself do what your body wanted, you felt a million times better?"

You nod, the memory of the intensity still fresh in your mind. "Yeah…I did. It felt different…freer."

"Exactly," he says, his eyes softening as he gazes at you. "That’s how ballet is supposed to be. You can’t bring emotions to an audience if you’re too busy concentrating on getting the next move right."

"But Mrs. Yang always talks about perfection," you counter, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "She says, ‘You need to be perfect to achieve perfection.’ She repeats it all the time."

Sunghoon sighs, a look of understanding crossing his features. "It’s the same for us," he admits, his tone tinged with a mix of disdain and resignation. "Every skate has to be better than the last, or else you’re a failure." His voice carries the weight of someone who’s heard those words too many times, who’s internalised them and yet knows there’s more to the story.

"But perfection isn’t something you learn from a textbook. It’s not something you can force." He pauses, looking down at you, his expression thoughtful. "You need to find your own colour, your own style. That’s where true perfection lies - when it comes from within, not from trying to meet someone else’s standards."

You hold his gaze, the truth in his words sinking in. For years you have tried to live up to Mrs. Yang’s expectation that you lost your real love for the art. Or maybe, not lost the love, but rather buried it under the weight of being perfect.

"But…what if I never find it? My colour."

Sunghoon’s lips curve into a small smile, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your flushed skin. "To be honest, you’re better than most. You’ve got the skill, the technique, but you’re holding yourself back because you’re so focused on being perfect." His eyes bore into yours, sincere and encouraging. "You need to let your posture breathe, stop worrying about being flawless, and just…dance. That’s what’s holding you back - then you’ll find it."

His words resonate deeply within you, stirring something that’s been buried under layers of self-doubt and external expectations. "So I just need to let go?"

"Exactly," he says, his voice firm but gentle. "Let go, trust yourself, and let your body move the way it’s meant to. Just like we did there."

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight on your shoulders lift just a bit. "I’ll try," you whisper, the words carrying more determination than you thought possible.

Sunghoon smiles, a warmth in his eyes that makes your heart flutter. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a gesture so tender it nearly makes you melt. "That’s all anyone can ask for," he murmurs, his voice reassuring.

You nod, feeling a newfound resolve build within you. As you sink deeper into his embrace, the world around you seems to blur, leaving behind the certainty that you’re ready to let go, to embrace the dancer you’ve always been meant to be.

After a moment of quiet, Sunghoon pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on your hips, grounding you. "How about we get you cleaned up, and then we run through it again?" he suggests, his tone light yet purposeful.

You smile, the idea of starting fresh with this new perspective sparking a sense of excitement in you. "Yeah," you agree, your voice steady. As Sunghoon helps you to your feet and fixes your outfit for you, you feel your heart burst with determination and adoration, both for ballet and the man in front of you.

You’re going to have to thank Mrs. Yang for this by giving the most passionate performance at the exhibition.

Maybe Sunghoon can keep coaching you until then. You do need to work on your flexibility after all…

---

perm taglist: @immortalvee @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21 @diorsyun @heexzbae @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee @haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii @notevenheretbh1 @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @jiminie-08 @emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove @heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun @ivesti @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee @xxbluestrifexx @bambangan @dollyyun @iluvikeu @deobitifull @yawnazzz @st1llm0nster @woorcve @heeseungsbm @star-hoon @heelee-01

#enhypen smut #enha smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #aj writes #enhypen x reader #enha x reader

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gay-dorito-dust · 8 months ago

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How they’d react to you not kissing/hugging him before leaving for a mission…

Dick acts as though you told him his ass isn’t that fat in his spandex suit-

He’s insulted.

You always, always remember to kiss his cheek before he leaves. His ‘good luck, be safe and kick ass’ cheek kiss!

It’s your thing as a couple! Do you want to see him cry because he fucking will! He’ll do it!

Dick will pout, huff and whine loud as possible in hopes that you’d realise your error and rectify it tenfold. He won’t tell you what’s wrong. No, he wants and expects you to figure it out for yourself, which doesn’t get him anywhere when you’re looking at him confused and lost as to what he was whining about; Literally.

His mood will be down for the entirety of the day and you’ll no doubt have texts from his teammates and family members asking what was wrong with Dick to look so down.

You’re just as confused as them seeing as how Dick didn’t disclose his innermost thoughts and feelings to you despite being his partner, so you were at a loss on how to help them with something even you weren’t privy to knowing…it’s probably one of your biggest issues as a couple but that’s for another time.

Dick will do that pathetic thing where he looks back at you expectantly the closer he gets towards the door, even going so far as to walk extremely slow when he was within reaching distance of the door handle as to buy you enough time to notice before he genuinely had to leave.

When you don’t however, Dick acts like a kicked puppy for the rest of the day and will proceed to exaggerate to anyone with ears about how his lover was restricting him of his affection.

On the other hand, If you do manage to remember to give him a good luck kiss, planting an extra one on his other cheek for extra, extra luck. Dick will have a permanent smile on his face that will not go the fuck away, even when he’s beating someone’s ass, the smile remains glued on his face as though with gorilla glue.

Seeing Dick brutally beat someone’s ass with a smile was horrifying for anyone to witness but it’s okay bc he’s happy that you remembered to kiss him good luck.

Jason will immediately call you out on your bullshit.

And by that I mean cross his arms over his chest and stare at you saying. ‘Well?’

And you’re like: ‘well what?’

And he’s like: ‘where’s my good luck kiss that you owe me? Roy is waiting on me and here I am waiting on my kiss, so give me my kiss chipmunk.’

Jason doesn’t piss about and gets to the meat of the issue at hand. He wants his good luck kisses and he wants them now and he will not leave the apartment until he gets them.

You’d raise a brow at his not so subtle neediness for your affection and decided to tease him. ‘I thought you didn’t need my good luck kisses remember? You’re a big boy who can fight with or without my good luck kisses.’

Jason groans, not expecting you to pull that out. ‘I said that one time. One time and I was being a dick back then too because all you wanted to do was show me that you cared about me and didn’t want me to get hurt.’

You smiled and got up from the couch and walked over to him, resting your hands on his biceps. ‘So now that you admit that you were a dick and the way that you acted was wrong…’ you trailed off as you pressed a kiss to his lips once, twice, three times because you loved to kiss Jason whenever possible and will try to plant as many kisses as you could.

‘Thanks chipmunk.’ Jason murmurs against your lips, feeling everything has gone back to being right again. ‘Now I better be off or Roy will tease me for lingering too long-‘

‘Too late.’ Roy said from the doorway and Jason closed his eyes and silently curse while you smiled and waved at Roy. ‘Hi Roy!’ You said. ‘Hi y/n, mind letting Jason come out to play?’ Roy joked. You played along by making a thoughtful face as Jason mutters under his breath; ‘are you being serious right now?’

You snapped your fingers. ‘As long as you make sure Jason doesn’t get into trouble then yes, he may go out and play.’

‘I hate you both.’ Jason groaned as he walked past you and playfully shoved Roy aside to leave the apartment. Roy then cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted after him. ‘Are you sure you don’t want your goodbye kisses?’ You and Roy laugh together upon hearing Jason cursing him out from a distance.

Damian acts indifferent about it.

He doesn’t need a good luck hug, hell! he doesn’t need luck at all!

He’s skilled enough to win any fight without relying on something silly as Luck. Luck was just probability under a different name and definition. (A/n: Don’t quote me on that.)

So when you forget to give him a hug before a mission, Damian doesn’t think anything of it but it will linger in his mind unnecessarily much to his annoyance.

Why was he so hung up on not getting something a silly as a hug? Or was he instead more upset over the fact that you, his closest friend/partner, completely forgot about it as though it wasn’t anything worth remembering.

Either way he was conflicted and didn’t know how to go about saying any of this to you without getting frustrated over his apparent loss for words. He was a man of action more then anything so when he finally catches up to you, he will stride towards you and stop just a couple of inches and silently stare at you with his resting bitch face.

‘Damian?’ You asked. ‘Are you okay?’

Damian doesn’t say anything because he couldn’t think of anything to say in that moment and instead stays silent as to save himself from further embarrassment.

‘Damian?’ You asked again, getting worried over his unusual silence. ‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me-‘ before you could finish your sentence, Damian had lunged towards you and brought you into a very tight hug. You smile softly and gladly hugged Damian back, not saying a single word other then;

‘You don’t need me to say it but I’ll reaffirm it anyway, you’ll do great out there Dami. I know you will.’

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d3stinyist1red · 2 months ago

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ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀɪᴛʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

yan celebrity who everyone likes and adores

yan celebrity who you texted for no reason at all, it wasnt even that bad it was just

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Y/nis_daddysigma

wsg lil bro

nice clothes 🙏

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yan celebrity who decided to check his insta messages that day, scrolling through the thousands of messages his fans sent him until he randomly picked one

yan celebrity who decided to respond to you

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Theyluvme

thanksss :3

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yan celebrity who immediately begins texting back and forth with you, you were SHOCKED ASF bc why is this random millionaire tryna keep convo with you..

yan celebrity who you managed to captivate within a small moment of time, immediately trying to text you every second of his day, kicking his feet back and forth when he texts you

yan celebrity who is hooked, waiting for your messages back, feeling so good when he hears that familiar buzz from his phone signalling that his wifey texted him

yan celebrity who thinks about you 24/7 now, thinking about who you were with, if they were a bad influence, if he should install more cameras in your house,

yan celebrity who literally fantasizes about your guys future, he decided that he WAS gonna carry your baby he does NOT care

Yan celebrity who can't handle it anymore, needing to be near you in real life, and not just him stalking you

yan celebrity who meets you the first time in real life after all those face time calls and texts messages, literally clinging onto you a koala, LITERALLY HIS BODYGAURD HAD TO PULL HIM OFF YOU😭😭

yan celebrity who gives you VIP tickets every time he has a concert, literally rambling about you to his bodyguard who wants to go home ( BODYGAURD does NOT get paid 😭🙏🙏)

yan celebrity who instantly notices you in the crowd, waving at you, heart pounding against his chest and performing his best at the concert to impress you

yan celebrity who escorts you backstage, and hovers WAYY too close to you, trying to find any and every excuse to touch you (he smacked your ass and told you that he saw a fly on it and he wanted to kill it, there was no fly 💀)

yan celebrity who anytime you try to put some distance between you both, pulls you even closer, giving you more attention, more of him

yan celebrity who literally cries when you finally decided to jerk him off, watching TikTok on your phone as he crumbles into a whimpering mess, arching his back and everything in front of you

Yan celebrity who buys you anything and everything you want, taking you to many country's every week saying that 'Dont worry about it, baby! I just feel like I should do this for my wifey!' (he thinks you guys were married as soon as you jerked him off, you've literally told him you only helped his problem bc he was about to perform and he wasn't gonna be able to perform with his full potential if he was 🧱)

Yan celebrity whose hands always lingers on your arms, loving to squeeze and hold them as a way to show his love and clingyness for you

Yan celebrity who texts you corny shit

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Theyluvme

bae this is ur sign to breed me

Y/n_daddysigma

get the fuck out my dms bro

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I_luvy/n_pls_eatmeout_n/n

Y/nis_daddysigma

bro just put the ketchup packets in the bag bruh

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I_luvy/n_pls_eatmeout_n/n

pls eat me out

pls edge me

pls

pretty pls

im going to touch you so good tonight

Y/nis_daddysigma

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GUYS I GOT LAZY ASF LMAOOO

#yandere x reader #yanderemalexreader #clingy yandere #yandere x darling #soft yandere #tw yandere #yandere blog #yandere male #yandere boyfriend #yandere #yandere celebrity #yandere idol #destinys worksss<333

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zzencat · 5 months ago

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A Peek Into Your Future Person’s Midnight Thoughts (NSFW) - Timeless ⏳

From left to right. It’s the one you can’t take your eyes off of.

Batman wouldn’t get this info out of ‘em. What are they thinking about when they text you good night? These are the fantasies they’re too shy to share. No spiritual identities were revealed. (Minors DNI)

Note: This does not necessarily have to align with your kinks. This is what your future person wishes they could do to you.

Must do before you choose: Clear your mind. Time is now patient and still. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill your chest up to the fullest, feel the soft air brush up against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out. You may now begin.

——————————-

Pile 1. ‘Yeah? Say that again. I dare you.’

straight up strength kink. trapping you between their arms (thank you kim mingyu for the inspo and energy)

you could share a (huge) height difference with this person and it makes them want to protect you

they either have a muscular build or are very much taller than you. a lot of fs in this pile have both. especially working out the arms.

they like to see you feisty so that they have a reason to conquer yo ass

HEAVILY thinks about pushing you against a wall (a beige-colored wall, in particular) in a hotel room and fucking you against it

the type of person to edge you so much that you start crying

this person may have given you hints or will you give signs of their kinks before, so you will get the idea that they have a brat taming kink

will purposefully try to piss you off to get you all hotheaded and feisty. they really want to test your limits so that you “try” and “teach them a lesson” or “intimidate them” with a finger to their chest and everything—like “just bc you’re bigger than me doesn’t mean you can keep pissing me off.” it’s laughable for them bc this is what they wanted. they’ll let this build up for a little more, keep trying to rile you up…UNTIL it explodes and they finally show you who’s really in charge. you may or may not of like this but you’ll be blushing like crazy lmfao

they tend to go for types that are too easy to overpower physically. it’s even cuter if you’re shorter than them and very obviously can’t take them down

fantasizes about holding you down/keeping you stationed while going down on you

this person might be hairy. think of a human to werewolf transformation. a good 50% of you will encounter someone completely clean shaven, sophisticated looking, keeps composure so damn well, but has reallllly freaky desires and fantasies. you wouldn’t be able to tell. the hints are subtle tho and will come up in their everyday actions towards you. (example: cleaning up after you or watching out for you, holding you close when a stranger approaches…i’ll add more in the points of interest 🤧)

holy shit…listen, if this is a sibling of someone you know, they’ll def fantasize abt fucking you with said sibling(s)/family members around, sneaking around the family house, doing it in risky places and times (have mercy!!!) — ex: cupping your mouth while they go down on you or tease you like “you don’t want them to find out, do you? keep quiet for me”

they’d love to hold your jaw in place and make you look at them while they pleasure you

wouldn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed for making you moan too loud. if youre at an event, they get off on people hearing you — doesn’t matter if your parents or the elderly hear it

this person really gets off on the idea of having sex in public. they’re a true exhibitionist :)

(expanding off my previous point) most of the fs in this pile don’t get…jealous?? like very “look but don’t touch” type of person when it comes to you; they know people don’t dare to compete with them. this person is very confident in where they stand in your life. if you ever suggest bringing in someone to watch you guys, they would be okay with the idea. now, a very small percentage are extremely possessive in this pile, but the idea is the same. i’m not ignoring them but only mentioning them slightly bc the small percentage want you to at least be aware that they’re capable of feeling extreme possessiveness (reminder: not the same as jealousy). as long as people know that you guys are together (and it’s been made obvious) and don’t try to cross the line or make passes at you, pile 1 fs is confident enough and typically doesn’t feel the need to prove more

^^ but i will say that some subtle signs of jealousy include trying to look superior to other “threats” to your relationship

stay with me now. they fantasize about you trying your best- whatever that means ?!?! bc of the height difference, if you get sassy with them or even get annoyed at them, all they do is just smirk and make it known that you’re just a doll to them (to keep it very vague w you).

honestly this person would be down to take you anywhere. for some reason, they always want people to know you guys are fucking so they think about doing it in public a lot. this person could work on just simply having nice slow sensual sex in the bedroom tho. i think it’s just cuz they crave the thrill and it’s a fat ego boost. but cmon…it’s nice to just have some chill loving sex once in a while (i’m nudging their spirit abt it)

you guys could be TOTAL opposites and have an enemy-to-lovers trope going on. OR extremely similar feisty, fiery personalities. some people here have a fwb or ewb kind of relationship w them already OR one of you has fantasized abt it

they could honestly give you a whole list of what they like and want to do to you but would rather show you (they’re pretty impatient). they need to know you’re wanting- no- craving the same thing- that you want them as much as they want you

points of interest: teasing to NO end (in bed and out); has a habit of calling you pet names (even when not in a relationship w you) or nicknames; tall; height difference; possible mbti: very VERY estp, entj, a tiny bit of estj vibes; your front or back against the wall; take you down - chris brown; backshots; hands behind head, “try it. i dare you”; “you’re not that strong” (idk who- either you or your person says this in hopes to rile the other up); tickle fights or play fighting that leads to…other things 😏; a friend’s sibling, unexpected or forbidden relationships; going down on you in a closet at a family vacation home (?!?! damn)

——————

Pile 2. ‘Treat me like your doll.’

you or this person could be a switch, but regardless, you will have many chances to take charge

the bondage is too obvious in this pile. they also may have body image issues

this person could be sub-leaning tbh. probably struggles making eye contact with you during the deed or just in general (w/ you or people)

wants to please you and be used by you

masochistic as hell

someone here struggles with very obvious self esteem issues, but through this relationship and learning how to trust and be vulnerable, you will both heal each other on a deeeeeply emotional level. you will make this person feel comfortable in what they fantasize about and this will be reciprocated

for some in this pile, like a good 45% of people, your fs may have dealt with sexual guilt growing up. (for a second, i felt like saying more but it’s safer for me to keep it vague for their sake.) this is reallll vague, so i’ll try to word it more carefully…the guilt can come from a plethora of things…

yk what would be beneficial for them? if you pleasured them while making them look in the mirror

this person is pretty shy with expressing their sexual desires. for many, this could be their first time, or just extremely inexperienced (but they feel embarrassed to admit that)

listen, the emotional sex will be insane. crying, lots of love—if you’re into dacryphilia, this will be your jam

trust is so important for them. also looking at each other’s eyes while going at it

deep long kisses that fade into sloppier, more desperate and needy ones (coming from more of their side)

idk how to explain this kink but it’s like…getting off to something you can’t have? they’d feel guilty about touching themselves to the thought of you (during the time you’re not yet dating each other) and that mental image would spiral into picturing you standing in front of them and just watching them get off to you while they’re on their knees. they see you as someone to be worshipped. they’ll be begging and possibly crying for you to let them cum

yk the deeper i dig into this, the more emotional it gets. i think this person is a huge people pleaser and has found it hard to be loved in this life time. but no worries, bc this relationship will help you both connect and become vulnerable. as long as you’re confident in yourself and carry a normal to high self esteem, you should be great in the relationship

mommy/daddy kink (it doesn’t mention who will be what but it’s def gonna be something they’ll be shy to confess), loves praise, collars (being collared), being your pet

this person would thank you for touching them. they could get pretty poetic in bed when edged for hours and under so much exposure

they def have the ability to be more dominant, but you’d really have to reel it out of them; they’re afraid of messing up

on the other hand, degradation will work wonders on them as long as you soothe those wounds later. praise and degradation will change this person’s life lmfao, as long as your timing is right

they’ll touch themselves thinking about soft and sensual, sensitive and teasing sexual acts, like mutual masturbation or if you use your hand to get them off while peppering their jaw with kisses

very sensitive person so their has to be a lot of trust between you to unlock the…freakier stuff (which is why i’ll cut it short. this is all they’re giving you for now 😎🤚)

points of interest: pinkie promises, very in tune with their feminine energy, “you’ll be here forever, right?”, very soft person with an insane sex drive, shy, doesn’t ask for much- just wants you to be there with them, quietly existing, kinda reminds me of those emo kids who date and kiss in the corner (but you guys will be engaging in no such cringe, esp not in public), shyly clings onto your hand, HOODIES hoodies hoodies, cool toned filters on pictures, matching clothes or accessories- i’m getting one person has a lock and the other with a key, collars with a heart on it, likes when someone gets possessive over them, will unintentionally spill their thoughts and ideas and then apologizes for rambling…i feel like a lot of you in this pile relate to them a lot…like very similar in personality or smth…lot of similarities (even subtle or suppressed parts of your personality), i really don’t think you’d be able to tell they’re a secret freak (maybe thru the way they dress but by personality, prob not), very artistic people- whatever art form they love or seek comfort from, you will find this very attractive and unique

- very small note: i realize that i don’t feel the need to correct the commas and make them semi-colons to show the list. i think it’s their energy being very forgiving and that they don’t care if you mess up (lowkey it’s bc they’re used to being hurt 😞). very unlikely to call out your mistakes. they just want you to be there with them, to love them of their flaws. they will undoubtedly do the same. they just don’t want you to leave them.

———————

Pile 3. If you look at them, you’ll laugh.

ok right of the bat, you guys are unarguably the most “nontoxic”, healthy, but also vanilla relationship out of the piles 😂😂

this person doesn’t have too many crazy ideas or thoughts when they think about sex tbh. they also don’t watch porn or at least are not addicted to it. very vanilla person with a normal sex drive

they prob get off like once or twice a day but sex to them is a bonding activity with you filled with laughter and some jokes (which both of you could work on if you want to ever engage in more kinky and dark stuff, esp since it could be hard for you to get serious and in the mood)

^^ like if you’re being handcuffed and you’re ticklish, this person will tickle you (unless you like this being done, it could mess with the sensual moment a bit 😅)

very gentle person. thinks about caressing your body

very affectionate and wants to tend to your needs. the last thing they want to do is have you in tears after sex (unless it’s happy tears)

they’re mostly serious with sex when they’re touching themselves alone (if you’re not physically there)

if you’re doing long distance, they’ll wait to have sex w you rather than touch themselves

don’t get me wrong yk they’re down to doing the freaky stuff too- but i think you guys are so in the “best friends” laughing with each other all the time, it could get unserious real quick 😂😂 if you’re okay with that, things should be ok for you 👍

open to engaging in all sorts of kinks and sexual fun, but they prefer it to be with you and not with another person involved. not that theyre judgmental of it, they just don’t want to have sex with others watch you guys or having another person/people involved. they prefer it to just be the 2 of you

so much laughing, too many good vibes, they’re completely enamored by you

you could share a similar personality to each other, but weirdly, without disrupting the balance

just touching your skin and cuddling for hours = sex for them

points of interest: EXTREMELY LOYAL; can’t see anyone in this world but you; loves what you think are your flaws; massaging your feet; caressing your body fat; will go wherever you want to go and they’d plan the trip too if you’d like; very kind person—so nice that they could try to help everyone- they don’t look at these as bad things at all; animal person; they’re as warm as they look; it would take a long time to piss this person off bc they’re that understanding; they could come off as too positive and naive tho, if you’re like “don’t you see that person was trying to scam you?” and they’d shrug, pull you close with a grin and be like “it’s okay. they probably needed that money. i don’t mind 🙂‍↔️”, very precious soul, not into polygamous relationships

—————-

Teddy Note: Sorry guys I forgot my little ending speech so I’m going back to add it here- THANK YOU for taking the time to read this. I hope your day is going smoothly and if not, no worries, we got tomorrow. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. I love that saying when any reader says it. Energy can seriously follow you if you dwell on it too much, while thinking about it negatively. Again, thanks for joining me on my readings if you’re new here :)

Have a good one guys. Teddy out 😎👍👍

#tarotblr #tarot reading #intuition #pick a pile #pac tarot #pick a card #daily tarot #18+ tarot #tarot blog #divination #spirituality #pick a picture #pick a photo #free tarot #intuitive

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lxnarphase · 6 months ago

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GOOD MORNING, BABY

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...ft. : h. hiromi + k. shiu + r. sukuna + h. kinji + t. aoi

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...cw : somnophilia (pre-agreed on), thigh fucking, penetrative sex, pre-established relationship, dirty talk, praise and degradation, breeding kink, sukuna is a dickhead, shiu really loves his girl, hiromi loses his shit, aoi is a great boyfriend, it's just really fucking dirty im not sorry

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : which jjk characters would fuck your thighs while you're sleeping bc they're horny but don't wanna wake you up !!

who does it to tease you ↴

✧ k. shiu ; he's slow, purposefully grinding right against your sex, his cock leaking precum all over your thighs when he pushes through them. shiu thinks it’s so fucking cute how you try to grind against nothing in your sleep, he can’t help but tease you a little bit, a little smirk on his face at all your reactions

“always makin' me do all the work, aren't ya? hm, got a pretty lil' pillow princess on my hands...” “your man had such a tough day, and your here all comfy and sweet, waiting for me t' touch you. tsk, should've come home sooner, didn't mean to leave my girl waiting." “god, always loved how damn soft you are, angel. mm, so so soft and warm, jus' for me. don't worry, i'll wake you up with my cock cummin' all over your pretty skin.”

✧ h. kinji ; to be fair, you caused this. you teased the poor man all day, and kinji knows he's getting you back when you telling him you're gonna take a nap, rubbing your hands against his chest while wearing nothing but his t-shirt. since you're soooo eager to tease, he had no issues with teasing you back.

“hm? going to pretend you sleep? c'mon, sweetheart, don’t you want to be fucked? you're so fuckin' cute when y'wanna try and be stubborn, hun." "i know you’re awake, i see your pretty eyes trying not to open. all you have to do is open them and i’ll stop fucking your thighs and fuck you instead.” “thaaat’s it, baby, tha's my girl. rubbing up against me while looking so pretty. let’s give you a reward, hm? gonna pop the tip in an' see how fast we can get ya to cry for the rest of it.”

who does it because they are desperate ↴

✧ h. hiromi ; there’s no knowing what caused him to snap, but hiromi comes home practically feral. it's hot, so hot as he quickly takes off all his clothes, uncaring about his expensive suit jacket on the floor. he’s been thinking about you ever since he left his office, thinking about every curve of your body, every sweet noise you’d make, and how delicious you sound saying his name.

“honey, wake up, please. ’m not fucking you until you wake up and look at me. you're not getting my cock til you look at me.” “beg? oh, no, no, no, pretty thing, no teasing and no playing around. the only one that’s going to beg is you, baby. now stop being a little brat and be good for me, yeah? don't wanna punish you, not when you look so cute right now." "how about i just fuck your thighs and, cum all on them? you want my cum to go to waste? or do you want to be fucked full of my cum like a good girl? make your fucking choice.”

who wakes you up ↴

✧ r. sukuna ; sukuna doesn’t even go to thigh fucking, he skips that. no, he’s grumpy his sleep was interrupted by the annoying rush of blood to his dick. so now, he's biting your thighs, sucking on them before going down on you, using his tongue and fingers to prep you lazily shoving his stupidly big cock inside you, humming when you moan yourself awake.

“look who's awake. took you long enough, I put so much effort into making you feel good before I shoved my dick inside ya. hey, don't smack my tits, brat, i'll bite your damn hand off.” “hm? you want me to move? mm. why should i? ...because i woke you up? tch...you're lucky you're s' fucking pretty or i'd just jerk off and cum all over your face.” "fuck, always take me in s' fuckin' good...i trained this cunt right, now she knows how t' handle my cock. 'member when you couldn't even take half of it in? look at you now, turned ya into my nasty little cockslut."

✧ t. aoi ; you fell asleep in aoi's lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you rested your head against his shoulder. the thigh fucking was supposed to happen, yes, but you were tired, opting out for cockwarming him as he watched whatever show he put on. but then you started squirming around, whining so cutely in your sleep. how could he not take care of his girl?

“oh, hiii, bunny...you’re finally awake? hey, shhh, shh, 's okay, i've got ya. feels real good, right? y'just sounded so cute, i couldn' help myself, pretty, you were squeezing me so tight.” “too slow? do you want me to go faster, darling? all you have to do is ask....heh, no, 'm not being mean! i just think you're cute all sleepy, is all.” “it’s hitting deep? yeah? maybe i should lift you higher and slam you down to see how deep i really can go.”

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tbaluver · 3 months ago

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When You're On Your Period- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff, comfort a/n: posting my drafts atm bc i just have writers block sorrys /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He's not particularly educated in the realm of menstruation. So when he saw you clutching your sides in agony, he was so worried about you and ran to your side. He thought you were sick or injured. You try to explain to him that you're just on your period and he eagerly listens to you as you explain it to him.

It's his mission to try and make everything easy for you and makes a special effort to bring you things that might make you feel a little better.

"Can you buy me pads with/out wings?" And he would be really confused at first. He would think you want pads and wings. He would stand in the aisle for a while figuring out which ones you needed. So he'll come back home with a BUNCH of menstrual products with wings from your favorite restaurant.

But also the type to buy you your favorite snacks and drinks before you even ask. Sometimes he'll come home with a small plushie for some support.

Lowkey worried if you're going to be alright but he knows you're strong and will remind himself that you know how to handle yourself.

He would gently massage any areas that were aching. Lots of your time is spent in his arms or resting your head on his chest and he explains that the health website says its "beneficial" to do so and you're not complaining. He's so comfy.

Zayne:

In the beginning of your relationship, he was kind of inexperienced in this department. He knew some knowledge about the menstrual cycle but not too much so he made sure to educate himself so he knows how to take better care of you.

He runs down to the pharmacy to get you some pain medication and any menstrual products you need without any ounce of embarrassment. He doesn't find a reason to feel ashamed or embarrassed about getting you things for your period. Makes sure you have enough supplies to last you the whole week.

Prepares you some yummy warm foods that are nutritious for you and all cooked to your liking. He would also make sure to run down to your favorite bakery to pick you up some baked goods.

If you suffer from cramps, then he would find the best pill for you or make you effective tea. He'll also offer any massages you want on your body and let's just say this man is good with his hands that you don't want his hands off of you.

The type to not tell you that you stained the bed. He'll prepare you a soothing bath while he washes the sheets. When you come back the bed is nice and warm.

He'll start marking it down on his calendar so he can be prepared more in the future

Rafayel:

He would kind of forget periods are a thing but once you remind him, he'll try his best to take care of you. He has good intentions looking out for you and getting whatever you need. You would text him if he can get something for you and he's already on his way to you with whatever you requested.

He'll pay attention to your specific needs and preferences. He'll make sure you're getting your rest, staying hydrated, and eating well.

Would joke around and call this "Shark week." Would pray to any gods to bring mercy on him if he were to ever to be sassy to you on your period.

He'll be worried about you but he knows that you're strong. That doesn't mean he'll leave you alone during this time, unless you want him too. He'll be there to try and ease everything as much as he could.

If you were to have any bad cramps, he would give your lower abdomen a small massage while talking too it. "Hey don't be so mean to my cutie....." or sometimes he'll tell you some stories about Lemuria or maybe hum you a song in Lemurian to get your mind off it. Your head would be resting on his chest, his hands massaging gently into your aching sides.

It's easy to fall asleep in his arms because he can be so warm from his evol

He'll offer to make you a bath and gather your favorite bath bombs and your oils that might ease your discomfort. He would have the perfect temperature for you and would help undress you and help you into the bathtub. Would also feed you some yummy fruits like a princess while you were in the bath

Sylus:

Sylus treats you like royalty the entire time you're on your period. He's extra patient and understanding. You don't have to feel embarrassed at all with him and he will never be disgusted by you being on your period.

If you ever stained the bed, he would clean it up for you. He would reassure you that everything is okay and that bleeding is normal. He'll help run a bath for you while he cleans the sheets. He would never use these situations against you or even embarrass you about it.

He's always there to give you a massage knowing how bad cramps can be. Tell him where it hurts and he'll immediately massage the area with his hands. If massages weren't helping, then he'll warm up a heating pad for you and would find the best painkillers to make it go away.

The first time you were on your period, he bought way to many products for you so you were stocked up. Eventually in the future he knows the exact brand and everything you could possibly need.

When you wake up, he already has a meal prepared for you. Sometimes it'll be made from a private chef or he made it on his own. He'll gladly carry you to the kitchen so he can feed it to you or if you want, you can eat in bed.

Would give you random and frequent kisses. He knows that during this time you can go through a lot of emotions so he'll make sure to give you kisses to remind you that he loves and cares about you.

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rinachains · 17 days ago

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sukuna x gn!reader; fluff; established relationship; no-curses!au

“Why are you so pretty?”

Sukuna turns his head to your figure that is sprawled lazily on your couch, your own head hanging upside down on the headrest, blinking at him owlishly. His gaze, which had just been focused on the cutting board in front of him - where he was preparing the late-night snack you requested - is now focused on you, interrupted by your unexpected words.

“Are you mad?”

“Yes.” A dopey smile stretches across your face, high on whatever feelings are rushing through your body at that moment. “Madly in love with you.”

Sukuna glances at you, a deadpan look, though your eyes catch the flush that colors his cheeks, barely noticeable, soft and oh so pretty. Betraying his nonchalant exterior.

“Go to sleep.”

“Aww, c’mon, I can see you blushing!”

“Tch, don’t be weird,” he grumbles, face turned to the side, before abandoning his task and making his way to the couch, putting you in a headlock, ignoring your shoves and squeals.

Sukuna finally releases you after you try to bite his arm, your teeth almost leaving a mark (not that he'd actually mind). As you sit up, disheveled and catching your breath, his large hand wanders to the back of your head, a careful grip, and he stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.

To an outsider, your boyfriend would probably appear unaffected, perhaps even threatening. But as his partner, someone who knows him too well, you can quickly recognize the softened edges around his eyes, the glint in the maroon of his irises. It never fails to spread warmth throughout your entire body, and you have to stop yourself from burying your face in his broad chest.

“You’ve been trying to tease me a lot lately, you brat,” he drawls, scratching his nails along your nape.

You hum, tipping your head back into his pleasant touch and giving him a short, firm nod. "I am. It's because of your reactions, they're really cute."

Sukuna immediately grimaces at your words and stops scratching, his eyebrows drawn together as his lips fall into something awfully resembling a pout. Like an angry cat, you think to yourself.

“Don’t use that word with me.”

You roll your eyes and bring a finger up to his face to smooth the wrinkled space between his furrowed brows.

“Oh, get over it. What do you want me to say? Hardcore?”

He pretends to bite your finger, sharp canines lightly scraping the skin while another unhinged giggle escapes your lips at the playful gesture.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t say anything at all.”

A snort leaves you as you wave a hand dismissively at him.

“Yeah, yeah, if that were the case then you wouldn’t be with me in the first place.”

Suddenly, his other hand reaches up and squeezes your cheeks, causing your lips to form an 'o'. He shakes your head from side to side, gently, eyes never leaving your face.

"You run your mouth way too much."

"M'only matching your energy," you manage to mumble and he lets go of your face.

A click of his tongue, “You wanna die?”

“Uhh, I’m so scared,” you taunt him, the corners of your mouth lifting up, knowing that his threats are just empty words. His own way of showing love, one could say.

His hand, the same one that just squeezed your cheeks, then travels down to wrap around your waist and your lips part immediately at the sensation. But instead of giving it a light squeeze like he usually does, he pinches your side, making you yelp and slap his hand away.

“Stop!”

"You asked for it," he shrugs, and you can see him trying to fight off a smile that threatens to spread across his face. You're tempted to tease and coo at him again, but you're afraid of what he might do to you, unsure if you'd survive.

You let out a loud sigh, "All this just because I called you pretty. How sensitive of you."

His brows rise and this time he doesn't hold back a smile, threatening and promising nothing good.

“Oh, I’ll show you sensitive."

a/n: wrote this bc i'm lowkey procrastinating my toji fic whoopsie hehe

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fluff #sukuna fluff #drabble #sukuna x reader fluff

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sanguineterrain · 7 months ago

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Hey! Can I request a Clark x reader where they're dating but reader doesn't know Clark is superman. And then superman interacts with them for whatever reason and is flirty bc that's his person!!! But reader is like ☝️ hey buddy back off. I'm HAPPILY taken

this is such a cute request!!!! Argh!!!!

clark kent/superman x gn!reader. fluff, brief danger but r is okay. superman flirting with you but he's dating you? he's just a goober. i lub him <3 PLEASE feel free to imagine maws!clark. I feel like this is very himcore 🥰

****

Being a florist in Metropolis is good work. Lots of people still buy flowers, which is great. Many actually buy bouquets for Superman and leave them on display as support. Poppies, yellow tulips, and cornflowers. They're one of your favorite arrangements.

The downside to being a florist in Metropolis, however, is that on occasion, your flower display ends up the target of a killer robot.

You're not sure why that is. Mostly, you wish people would stop building killer robots.

You've gone outside to see what the commotion is about when you're grabbed by a metal claw. It squeezes hard, almost cutting off your air. You squirm in terror as the robot stomps down Main Street, crushing cars and asphalt in its wake.

"Help!" you scream when you catch your breath, and the robot squeezes you harder.

A dizzying blur of red, yellow, and blue zips past you. You think of your flowers.

The blur cuts through the metal like nothing. The robot begins to collapse, twitching and groaning. Its metal creaks, grip loosening on your body.

You hardly fall before Superman is there, cradling you to his chest.

"I've got you," he says, tucking you close.

You look up at him, and he beams at you, like saving you from a killer robot has been the best part of his day.

Come to think of it, Superman came to your aid surprisingly fast, even for him.

And he holds you... intimately. Like you've known him for years. Your heart picks up.

"Uh," he says, cheeks flushed. "Are–are you okay?"

You smile politely, arms around his neck. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, Superman."

He nods, flying down the street. "Good. I'll get you back to your shop and clean up the flowers."

You tilt your head. "How do you know I'm a florist?"

Superman looks at you, blue eyes wide.

"Oh! I... uh, I've seen your arrangements all over the city. They're beautiful. I'd never forget that they belong to an equally beautiful face."

Goodness. If Superman is this forward with everyone he rescues, it's no wonder your flower arrangements are in high demand.

"I'm flattered," you begin, and Superman once again aims that grin with the power of a thousand suns at you. "But, respectfully, I'm very happily taken, so I would appreciate it if you'd keep this rescue professional."

Superman raises an eyebrow. To your surprise, he smiles wider.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't realize you were taken. My sincerest apologies. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's alright. I'm honored, but you couldn't pull me away from my boyfriend even with your super strength."

Superman's cheeks turn pinker. He sets you down in front of your store with the utmost care, not letting go until you have your bearings. He takes a step back, rubbing his neck. The gesture makes your brain itch. You don't know why.

"Well, uh, he must've done something right if he's lucky enough to be with you."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," you say fiercely. You don't know why you're so indignant about defending Clark's reputation to Superman. It's not like Clark will ever hear about it.

"No?"

"Not at all. He's an incredible person, kind and smart and loving, and if anyone's lucky, it's me."

Superman makes an aborted gesture to take your hand, then redirects and awkwardly pats your arm instead. You squint at him. He quickly moves away.

"Ah. Sorry. Well, I doubt that. I bet you're equally spectacular."

"Oh. Thank you."

You primly take his hand and give it a good shake. Superman bows his head and laughs.

He takes a step back, eyes bright like you've just made his day.

"Well, I wish you the best with your boyfriend. I'm sorry for being so forward. I've seen your Superman bouquets; your reputation precedes you. I make it a point to know reputed people in Metropolis."

"I can't imagine I'm very high on that list," you say.

"Ah, you'd be surprised. Besides, I never forget a face."

Superman darts behind you and moves at neckbreaking speed to clean up your partially maimed flowers. In three seconds, it's returned to its former glory.

"Well, uh, I'll be seeing you," Superman says, hands clasped behind his back. "I mean, I hope not in a circumstance like this! Th-then again, when else would we see each other? Scratch that, I hope there's no reason for us to cross paths because that would mean you're in danger. Uh, but I don't mean that in a bad way! I just—"

You snort and reach over to take a yellow tulip from your display. You give it to Superman, who takes it like you've just handed him a newborn baby.

"I'm still taken," you say. "But you're very sweet, Superman. Take care, alright?"

"Yeah," he says, tucking the tulip into the strap of his cape. "Yes, you too. Goodbye!"

He soars away, the tulip like a star on his cape.

Superman is handsome and kind, no doubt. But he's certainly no Clark Kent.

#clark kent x reader #superman x reader #superman x you #clark kent x you #clark kent imagine #superman imagine #clark kent fanfiction #superman fanfiction #dc imagine #dc fanfic #dc x you #inbox #blurb

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thebearer · 5 months ago

Text

love me tomorrow |carmen berzatto x reader| part three

prompt: after time apart, you and carmen meet up for the first time since the fight.

or part three and the final part of the devastation fic (spoiler- the resolution haha). part one and part two can be found here :)

contains: angst. hurt with comfort (finally lol). mentions of mean!carmen, past fighting. past trauma, family trauma. carmen's been to therapy (yay). language. mom!reader x dad!carmen. fluff at the end, i had to make it a little funny and end on a light note bc it felt so heavy lol. word count- 4.7k+

“He’s here,” Sugar announced, the chime of a doorbell following nearly cinematically.

Your shoulders tightened, stomach twisting with an ache of nerves you tried to swallow. You were so nervous- why were you so nervous? He’d fucked up, not you. He was here to grovel and beg for forgiveness, not you. Still, you felt your hairline prick with heat, hands clammy when you heard the door opening downstairs.

“Okay,” You tried to steady your voice, exhaling slowly out of your nose. “I’m almost done.”

Sugar nodded, not leaving, keeping her post behind you. “You know you don’t have to do this.” Sugar looked at you through the mirror, arms folded over her chest, watching you carefully for a sign- anything that would give her a red flag, make her call this off.

“I know,” You swallowed your buzzing nerves, jittery in the pit of your belly.

“I’ll tell him to go away. You give me the word, and I’ll kick him out.” Sugar stood, pushing off the door frame and walking towards you. “Seriously. One wrong word, wrong look, anything, he’s gone. Say the word.”

You gave a small smile. “I think I’ll be alright, but thank you.” You muttered, looking down at your bare ring finger. You still found yourself reaching for your ring, heart spiking in a panic when you’d see it was gone, only to sink when you remembered why- why you left it.

“I feel like it’s time.” You admitted, trying to convince yourself more than Natalie. You were still unsure, so jarred and hurt by the last time you’d spoken to Carmen. The things he’d said, how he’d hurt you. “I think we have to figure something out.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” Sugar gave you a pointed look. “Trust me, if this was me, Pete would never live that down- never. He’d be at my mercy for the rest of his life, if I even let him back into it.”

You knew Natalie wasn’t joking, that she would do just as she said, but that was also easy for her to say; when Pete could not fathom ever thinking those things about her, let alone saying them to her. Sometimes you wished Carmen could be softer, a little more like Pete in that way.

“He’s been going to therapy,” Richie’s voice played in your mind. “He’s, uh, he’s doin’ good. Tryna get better for you, for both of you. He loves you, you know that, sweetheart. He’s just… He’s fucked up, y’know? We all are a little, but he’s workin’ on it.”

You hoped that was true. For your marriage, for your baby. Sugar and Pete had been taking Teddy to see Carmen. You couldn't bring yourself to see him yet, but depriving him of Teddy felt cruel and inhumane.

Downstairs, you could hear her gurgling, Carmen’s soft tone greeting her in hushed excitement. It soothed you, even for just a moment, it felt familiar- felt like home. What you’d missed so badly, what you longed for to have again.

“Uncle Carm, why haven’t you been staying here too?” MJ’s tiny squeak of a voice rang up the stairs, greeting you as you quietly crept down them.

“MJ,” Pete muttered, shaking his head gently. “C’mon, bud, you know Uncle Carm’s been on a business trip.”

“Right, yeah.” Carmen nodded, his hand patting Teddy’s back gently, soothing her and him. Just feeling the weight of her back on his chest, it put him at ease. She was bigger now, longer than he remembered, but he tried not to think about that, nose pressing into her soft tufts of hair.

MJ saw you first, his face falling into a pout. “Aw, does that mean you’re going home?” He whined, looking at you then back at Carmen. “Are you takin’ Anchovy and Teddy?”

Anchovy skittered towards you, running up the stairs at the mention of his name. He’d been a trooper with MJ and Maggie, both kids enamored with the cat who was less than impressed with them.

Carmen stiffened at the sight of you, spine rigid, heart skipping and falling in his chest. There was a pause of awkward uncertainty, neither of you sure what to say. “If you’re good,” Sugar stepped in. “Maybe your aunt and uncle will let you play with them a little longer while they go out.” She looked at you, shrugging gently at the suggestion.

You looked at Carmen, eyes meeting him in a brief, unsure gaze, before nodding. “Yeah, that would be- that would be great, MJ.” You gave a soft smile to the boy.

Carmen stood, passing Teddy off to Sugar with a quiet muttering of thanks. He met you in the doorway, hand reaching for yours, but stopping himself, pulling back hesitantly. Instead, he held the door open, letting you pass by him first.

The car smelled like a mix of cleaning supply, masked with car fresheners he’d stuck in the vents. He’d been smoking, more than usual, you were sure of it. He’d gotten down to one a day after Teddy was born, paranoid that he’d give her asthma or a rash or something worse.

“Um,” Carmen hesitated, his voice shaking in a way that he hadn’t since your first date. “I was… I was thinkin’ we could go somewhere t-to talk?” Carmen’s gaze met yours, lips pressing together, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

You nodded, your hands clasped in your lap, both of you too rigid, too uncomfortable. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” You looked down at your nails. “We could go get coffee? Go to the one by the restaurant.”

Carmen’s heart burned with a dull ache. The coffee shop a block from The Bear had been a staple in your relationship. When you’d first moved in together, to the shitty downtown apartment to be closer to the restaurant, Carmen would go every Sunday. Sometimes he’d pick up, other times you’d come with him, sit in the corner seat side by side in a booth- like the couples you used to roll your eyes at, lovesick.

Someone was already sitting in that booth when you got there, so you settled for a small two seater in the back, secluded and empty. Carmen brought you your coffee without asking, he knew the order by heart now, etched into his mind permanently.

“Thank you,” You muttered, accepting the paper cup, your eyes not meeting his, but your hands brushing. You didn’t pull away this time.

Carmen sat across from you, a dread filled silence falling thick between the two of you. His knee bouncing under the table. “I, uh, I wanna talk first if-if that’s good with you.” Carmen’s eyes lifted under his ball cap, pulled low on his head, curls peaking out.

You nodded, twisting the paper cup around on the table, too nervous to drink it. Carmen took a breath, trying to calm his racing mind. “Take a deep breath before you start. It’s ok to take a second to get your words in order, Carmen. Collect your thoughts.” Dr. Mullins’ words rang through his head.

“I wanna start by saying that I’m sorry.” Carmen looked at you when he said it, eyes rounding in a pathetically sweet way. “I-I’m sorry and I…I didn’t mean anything I said. I would never- It wasn’t you.”

You looked down at the table, the familiar heat burning in your nose and throat, a threat of tears already. “Hey,” Carmen said firmly, leaning forward. “C’mon, look at me. Please?” You look at him hesitantly, jaw clenching, trying to keep yourself from crying.

Carmen held your gaze, his lips pressing together in a tight line to keep his own emotions in. “It wasn’t you.” His gaze was intense but soft all at once, holding yours. “It… It was all me. All of it. I-I was overwhelmed, I was stressed, I fucked up, a-and-” Carmen’s voice cracked, breaking at the end, his hand running over his face to try and calm himself.

You felt your own eyes well with tears, chin ducking closer into yourself, leaning towards him. You wanted to reach out, to grab his hand that rested on the table, squeeze it in comfort like you always did. Instead, you looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

“And I shouldn’t have said any of that shit because-because none of it was true.” Carmen continued, his voice strained.

“So why’d you say it then?” You surprised yourself with the firmness in your tone, edging on a snap.

Carmen blinked, surprised but not entirely shocked. His knee bounced faster and faster under the table. He took a second, holding his breath before exhaling, trying to keep the growing tightness in his chest to a minimum.

“I was stressed. I was tired. I-I was overwhelmed, and… and I was an asshole.” Carmen admitted, but you still didn’t seem convinced. You knew him better than anyone, better than Dr. Mullins, better than even Fak or Richie or Sugar.

“I… I was hurting. I was hurting an-and I was so fuckin’ angry. I don’t-I don’t even know why I was so angry.” Carmen admitted, nodding slowly, eyes flickering from your gaze to his hands nervously. “I just… I think I wanted someone to hurt like I was hurting. I just, I don’t know, I wanted someone else to feel like I was, an-and I should have- it was fuckin’ stupid, an-and selfish, and…”

Your eyes were glassy with tears you tried to hide, blinking a tear that fell down your cheek, wiping it quickly. Carmen’s chest ached, burned with hurt at the sight of you.

“And I’ve never regretted anything more in my life.” He looked at you sincerely. “I-I-I never said anything more untrue and fuckin’ stupid in my life.”

“You…” You took a breath, your voice shaking with emotions. “You really hurt my feelings, Carmen.” You admitted looking at him. He nodded, jaw flexing, neck blossoming with splotches of emotion.

“I just don’t really understand how-how you didn’t mean to say those things. I mean, clearly you-you’ve thought that before.” Your voice lifted higher and higher, climbing with a cry that threatened to break. “I know you’re saying you didn’t mean those things, and I get that, but my problem is you’ve thought them before-”

“-No, no, I swear-”

“-You have, Carmen. Clearly you have. You wouldn’t- You didn’t just come up with that shit out of nowhere.” Your voice was beginning to climb, trying to level it out in the cafe, keeping your composure. You took a breath, pinching the bridge of your nose, pad of your thumb swiping the corner of your eye to catch a stray tear. “Just… Just don’t lie to me.”

Carmen pressed his hands together, trying hard to remember his breathing while his mind was racing. Sugar was right, it was uncomfortable, worse than he could have imagined.

“You’re right,” Carmen admitted with a nod. There was no point in lying, not to you, you always knew better, knew him better. “I-I did, but not-not like that. Not,” Carmen’s breath hitched, chest tight with a wave of anxiety.

“You know wh-when I was at the restaurant, and I… I would be ready to rip my fuckin’ hair out. Everything was just goin’ to shit, o-or we’d realize there was a critic on the books, or I’d forgot to order some shit, I’d be going fuckin’ crazy, ya know?” Carmen rambled, words spilling out in tumbles of jumbled truth.

“I’d go to my office for a second, just to-just to take a fuckin’ breath, and… and I’d check my phone and I’d see a text from you.” His heart swelled at the memory. You’d text him updates through the day, knowing he’d seen him when he could. Baby Teddy in her crib, Anchovy in the bassinet, her outfit for the day, nap time- all the moments he missed at work because you wanted him to see. You had considered him. Carmen missed it more than words could describe the past days, checking his phone out of habit, hoping to see a little OOTD with a smiley face and a wrinkly baby Teddy attached- instead, he saw nothing.

“I’d just… I don’t know. I was sittin’ there, just fuckin’ stressed o-or angry, and then I’d see that and I-I’d feel,” Carmen paused. Gather your thoughts, gather your thoughts.

“I felt… I just felt weird about it?” Carmen’s brows pinched together, looking at you for help, unsure. Your face fell, his heart lurching with fear.

“No, no, no, no. Not-Not like that. I- fuck, that’s not what- I love the pictures. Love them. I-I- They’re the only things that get me through the day, it-it’s not that-” Carmen stuttered out, head dropping into his hands in defeat. Way to go, Berzatto.

“Felt weird?” You repeated, calm, your way of soothing him. Keeping your voice even, steady without any tones he could read into and spiral. It was second nature at this point. “Weird how?”

“It made me feel like… like I was, I was missin’ out.” Carmen admitted, eyes shining bright and a little wide like they always did when he’d finally admit something. Wide eyed, scared, almost, like he shouldn’t have told the truth.

“I felt like, I’m at work, an-and you were at home with Teddy, and…and I felt like I was bein’ a shitty dad. Like I was there too much, an-and I’d miss out on her, and then I’d miss you, I’d just…” Carmen threw his hands out lightly, cheeks puffing with a slow, shaky exhale.

“I was jealous, maybe? Ma-Maybe that’s the word, but I just… I didn’t want to be there, and I know,” He lifted his voice before you could begin to speak. “I know I’m th-the boss, and-and I get that. And it’s not- it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault you’re home- I’m glad you’re home, I am, because you’re doin’ so much. You are, an-and I know that, I know. You’re-You’re doin’ the most important job in the fuckin’ world, I mean, you’re keepin’ ou-our baby alive.”

Carmen laughed humorlessly, a scoff that turned into a sniffle, shaking his head. You sat quietly, listening to his words, taking them in with a slow nod. Carmen looked at you, trying to read you, taking in your expressions. Your shoulders less tense, tired, face neutral but he saw the way your lips twitched, holding back a cry.

“Just sometimes when-when I’d be in the shit, I’d just want to be home.” Carmen admitted. “I’d want to be home, but… but I knew I couldn’t be. I knew I had to-to take care of things, take care of you an-and Teddy, and I don’t- fuck, I don’t mean it like a bad thing. I like doing it, I mean obviously I fuckin’ do, it’s just- it-it’s a lot sometimes and I get-”

“-Carm,” You cut off his ramblings, reaching across the table, your hand sliding over the top of his, squeezing it gently.

Carmen thought his lungs might have given out, his heart too, looking down at your hand in awe. Bolts of electricity shot through his body, tingling at his skin that touched yours with excitement. He’d missed this, missed your touch, missed you. It felt surreal, sitting here, feeling you, seeing you.

“I’m sorry.” Carmen whispered, turning his hand to hold yours. Hands clammy, fingernails bitten to the quick. His fingers intertwined in yours, holding your hand so tightly your fingers tingles. He held your hand like he was scared to let go, like if he did he might never get to hold your hand again.

“I’m sorry. It-It wasn’t fair. It..It’s not fair.” Carmen squeezed your hand, shaking his head lightly. “You didn’t… I don’t know how to say how much you mean to me.” Carmen looked at you, eyes glassy, red rimmed with tears that gathered at his water line.

“I, uh, I-I tried to- Well, Richie’s thera- my therapist told me to, uh, to try an-and write out what I wanted to say to you. Take time and reflect and give it to you, but I, uh, I was up all night because I kept starting over.” Carmen rambled on.

“Everything I was tryna write it just… it didn’t feel like enough. It didn’t do you justice.” Carmen looked up at you, thumb brushing over your knuckle gently. “I felt like it just wasn’t enough. They’re aren’t any words to describe you. To…To describe what you mean to me, an-and how much I love you.”

You swallowed back a sob, looking into his eyes. An intensity you hadn’t seen since he said his vows, maybe more now. “I-I love you so much, and… and I don’t deserve you. I don’t fucking deserve you.” Carmen choked out, a sob slipping out between his confessions.

“I-I’m a fuckin’ loser, an-and a psycho, and I-I’m a shitty dad and husband…And I-I’m fucked up, and you-you chose to love me anyways. An-And to marry me, and have a kid with me- start a family with me. And what do I do? I fuck it up, and I don’t deserve you. I never have, an-and I never will.” Carmen rambled, tears sliding down his cheeks freely, leaning towards you, shoulders stuttering with a choking of tears.

“Don’t say that.” You sniffle, shaking your head. “Don’t say that-”

“-No, it’s true, it’s fuckin’ true-”

“-No, it isn’t. Carmen, don’t say that.” You reach your free hand out, cupping his cheek across the table, thumb swiping over his cheek, wiping away a stray tear. You held him, feeling the heat in his cheeks, he turned into your touch, breath slowing.

“You’re not a loser. You’re not a psycho. You’re not a bad dad, or-or a bad husband either.” You leaned forwards, closing in the gap between the two of you, the edge of the table digging into your stomach. “You made a mistake-”

“-No, that’s-that’s- it’s worse than that. It’s so much fuckin’ worse than that. Don’t-”

“-You made a mistake.” You said, firmer this time, cradling his cheek in your hand.

Carmen took a breath, squeezing your hand in his, sniffing deep to keep his tears in. “I don’t… I don’t want to be like my parents.” He whispered, eyes rounding in a scared way. “I-I don’t want to fuck up you o-or Teddy or… I just don’t wanna end up like them. I wanna be different.”

“You’re not gonna end up like them.” You shook your head softly.

“No, I-I was actin’ just like them.” Carmen muttered. “Yellin’ at you a-and actin’ like a complete fuckin’ lunatic. Just like them, an-and I don’t wanna live like that.”

“You won’t.” You reassured him gently, whispering across the table. He shook his head in protest. “Carm, listen to me. You’re… You’re not like them, ok?”

You could feel Carmen start to shake, a trembling through his system that was a tell-tale sign of a panic attack. Your eyes scanned over the restaurant, filling up with the mid-afternoon rush. “Come on,” You nodded towards the door, pushing your chair back, hand still in his. “Let’s get some air.”

Carmen didn’t argue, he wouldn’t- couldn’t even if he wanted to. Your hand in his, squeezing his gently, pulling him towards the car. Carmen pulled the keys out with shaky hands, unlocking the door. He reached for the passenger door, but you pulled the back door open instead, surprising him when you slipped in the backseat, nodding at him to follow you. You squeezed into the middle, Teddy’s car seat pressed to your back, Carmen pressed into your side, shutting the door.

“You’re not like them.” You broke the silence, turning yourself towards him. “You’re not.”

Carmen leaned his head back against the seat, tears leaking out of his eyes. “You-You don’t have to do this, say that.” He shook his head. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Carmen, you’re not like your parents.” You reached for his hand again. “The fact that you’re scared to be like them, scared and trying to stop it, that shows me you’re not like them.”

Carmen’s chest stuttered, a hissing of a cry leaving his lungs. “You made a mistake.” You swallowed, your own heart aching. “But… But that doesn’t mean you’re as a whole a bad person. It just means you made a mistake, and if you learn from it and become better, then it’s ok. It’s a lesson learned.”

Carmen nodded, eyes squeezing shut, tight like he was trying to keep everything in. “I just…I really fucking miss you.” Carmen admitted through a wobbly voice, eyes still closed. “I-I really miss you, and… and I want you to come home.”

You shook your head, tears sliding down your cheeks. “I miss you too.” You whispered, squeezing his hand. “I missed you so much.”

Carmen turned, arms wrapping around your body, pulling you tightly into him. His nose pressed into the top of your head, breathing in detergent that didn’t smell like what you used at home, shampoo, too. You held onto him, fingers digging into his shoulders, pushing him further and further into you until it felt like your bodies were meshing together, fusing into one.

Whispered apologies shared through teary, wet sniffles filled the space. Carmen’s nose rubbing against yours, hesitating before he kissed you. You pulled him into you, finally soothing the aching longing that had built in your chest, your lips catching his, the two of you staying unmoving, wanting to feel the other. Clinging to each other, hands grabbing, lips parting, Carmen pressing you against the car seat, hand cradled on the back of your head.

“I-I understand if you still don’t wanna come home.” Carmen muttered, breath hot over your cheek, nose rubbing against your skin. “But I really fuckin’ miss you.”

“I miss you too.” You muttered, lips buzzing against his neck, tears hot and trickling onto the collar of his t-shirt. “I-I want to come home.”

“A-Are you sure?” Carmen’s eyes lit up with hope, though he tried to hide it, the way he always did; too scared to let him get too excited, too hopeful because he always feared it would end.

“Yeah,” You whispered, nodding gently, balling the back of his shirt between your fingers.

“Yeah?” Carmen repeated, lips pressing together to keep his cry in, a different one this time. One of relief. For the first time in days, he felt like he could breathe, like his lungs weren’t constricting and on the brink of collapse. His mind didn’t race and cloud with delirious confusion. No, here and now, holding you, Carmen had clarity.

The both of you stayed in the back of the car, holding the other, chest to chest until your heartbeat became the same, steady rhythm, matching the others.

Carmen held your hand on the drive back, pressing wet kisses to your knuckles, trying to wipe his eyes of any tears. “Can’t let Pete see me cryin’ again.” He muttered. “That was a new fuckin’ low.” You had giggled softly, enough to have his heart fluttering. He’d never admit it out loud, not now, anyways, that he was thankful for Pete. How he’d taken care of you, of Teddy, of Anchovy. He’d stuck up for you, even if it was against Carmen, and that meant the world to Carmen.

Pulling into Sugar and Pete’s house, Carmen shoved the gear shift into park, his hand still in yours, both of you sitting in each other's company for a minute longer. Just a little bit longer the two of you, before you had to face the others.

“Oh, uh, one more thing.” Carmen’s thumb ran over your knuckles before he let go of your hand for a moment, raising up in the seat to dig into the front pocket of his jeans.

“I, uh, I brought your rings back.” Carmen’s voice dropped, a shake in his words that matched the shake in his hands, pinching your wedding band and ring in between his fingers.

You swallowed at the sight, Carmen holding the ring between his fingers, it took you back to years before when he’d proposed. Nearly as nervous as he was now, just as shaky, but for a different reason.

“You don’t have to put them on or anything. I don’t- I’m not tryna make you do that, it’s your choice, obviously. I just,” Carmen took a breath, looking at you. “I thought you might want them back.”

You paused for a moment, looking at the rings, the sting of the last time you saw them still burning and aching in your chest, but this time, it wasn’t as crushing. It was more of a dull ache, a tiredness that came with it instead of devastation.

Reaching out, your fingertips tickled his palms, gathering the two rings in your hand. You looked at them, turning them over in your hands. “Thank you,” You mumbled, looking up at Carmen. He swallowed, giving a nod, trying to mask the hurt that you hadn’t put them back on- you didn’t miss it.

“Do-” Your voice caught in your throat. “Will you put them back on?” You blinked at him, wide eyed, asking so sweet, Carmen thought his heart might give out entirely.

You held the rings out towards him. “Will you put them back on for me? Please?”

Carmen didn’t deserve you. The notion rang loud over and over in his head again, throat burning, welling up with tears. He didn’t deserve you. You were too good, too fuckin’ good for him.

His hands trembled, holding yours and slipping the rings back onto your ring finger, back to their rightful place. Carmen twisted them, a deep breath of a sob that was threatening to break filling the space. His fingers intertwined with yours, free hand cupping your jaw, pulling you into a kiss over the console.

Sugar looked out the window, peeking through the blinds. “What’re they doin’ out there?” Pete whispered behind her, like the two of you might hear them. “Do they look happy? Sad? You don’t think it went bad, do you? I mean, Carmen can be-”

“-Pete,” Sugar snapped with a soft huff. “Look for yourself.” She moved, biting back a small grin.

Pete slid in her place, pushing the blinds apart, sneakily looking out the side of them. He could see the two of you in the car, Carmen’s hands on the back of your head, holding you while you leaned across the console in a deep, passionate kiss.

“Well, lookie there.” Pete grinned, letting the blinds fall. “I guess there was a happy ending after all.”

Sugar rolled her eyes, lips twitching in a small smile. “He still has a lot to make up for. I hope she didn’t let him off the hook too easily.” She grumbled, crossing her arms. “But I am glad they made up. I would kill Carmen if he fucked things up with my favorite sister-in-law.”

Pete let out a small laugh, looking out the window again. “The kids are gonna miss Teddy and Anchovy when they go back. MJ’s gonna be devastated they’re taking them.” Pete muttered, Sugar nodded.

Pete paused for a moment, looking behind him with a soft frown. “Y’know, this is gonna sound crazy, Nat, but I’ll be kinda glad when Anchovy is gone.” Pete admitted in a hushed tone, like Anchovy might hear him.

Sugar snorted lightly. “Yeah. Except MJ and Maggie will be begging for a cat of their own. They’ve already started and I told them-”

“-No, I mean,” Pete turned, watching the orange cat slink around at the top of the stairs, Anchovy glaring down at Pete before disappearing to the guest room. “I don’t think that cat likes me.”

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