#After a long hiatus | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

illusionsofdreaming · 7 months ago

Text

birds without feet;

Notes: I return to the blog with this monster of a ficlet. This was actually written for @nin-deer who very graciously allowed me to share it on the blog as well. A small imagine that grew out of control haha... enjoy~ Ft: Beacrox

It was but a subtle shift of air that caused him to abandon his project. In an instant, he whipped around, knife in hand, its sharp blade poised just above the intruder's jugular, ready to cut deep with the slightest pressure.

Despite the threat of a blade at your neck, your smile was relaxed as you lifted the roll of parchment in your hand. “Delivery!”

His eyes quickly scanned the kitchen, noting the shifted curtains he pieced together your point of entrance. Only when you wiggled the paper impatiently did he finally drop the knife and swiped the parchment from your hand, ignoring your huff of laughter as he scanned over its contents.

“It’s nice to see you too Beacrox. How have you been?”

Your attempts at casual banter were ignored, but the moment you began reaching for the food on the table, his gaze snapped to yours, promising pain should you attempt further.

You were wise enough to heed his warning as you stepped back, hands raised in surrender. “Sheesh, you’re not going to make any friends if you keep acting this way.”

Crumpling the piece of paper, he threw it into the fireplace as you clicked your tongue in mock annoyance.

Had he cared for your opinion, he might’ve been annoyed, alas it was easy to dismiss as he threw a pouch in your direction, the clink of gold muted as you caught it from the air. He watched as you tossed the bag a few times before pocketing it.

You must have caught the confusion on his face as you glanced up with a grin. “I know you won’t cheat me of my payment.”

Though it was the truth—Molan’s motto was always to repay what’s due—such blatant admission of trust from someone working in the dark underbelly of society puzzled him, and without meaning to, he’d let his displeasure slip through. “It could’ve been filled with rocks.”

You blinked, head tilted as if you’re considering the possibility, then you laughed. “Then I suppose I’ll be a few pretty rocks richer.”

He scowled and returned to his work, grabbing his knife to hide the flush of annoyance he felt by your flippant answer. You knew such responses would annoy him, and he refused to give you the satisfaction of being correct.

One does not survive long in the underworld with their morals and innocence intact. Your deliberate pushing of buttons was another tactic to wheedle information from your targets, and he wasn't inclined on revealing anything. You already know far too much as is.

“Leave,” he ordered, his limited patience well and truly spent.

“Always a pleasure talking to you, Bea~”

He threw the knife in his hand, but by the time he turned around, you were already gone. The only evidence of your visit was the lingering echoes of your laughter and a missing tart from the plate of desserts he'd prepared earlier.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

As you kept the package just out of his reach, he couldn’t help but think: for a grown person jaded by the underworld, you sure liked acting like a child at times.

“You just thought of something rude didn’t you?”

His gaze snapped to yours. “You forget who you’re dealing with.” he warned coldly. The Molan household might have fallen from grace but just because he had traded his daggers for kitchen knives, they were no less lethal in his hands. Was it confidence or foolishness that made you dare to test his patience?

The silence in the kitchens was deafening as your eyes met across the counter.

“I haven’t,” You said finally, “not once.” Your smile was wry and lacked its usual cheer but the heaviness in your tone bore the weight of many secrets, of someone who knew far more than what they’re letting on. He’s faced with an uncanny sense of unbelonging and emptiness that seemed eerily familiar.

But with a blink of an eye, the mask that had slipped had righted itself. “I have a change of mind,” You sat on the edge of the counter island, tension and somber mood shaken off, replaced with an all too sunny smile. “I’d like another form of payment for the information I’m selling.”

He felt anger lick up his throat as his fist clenched above the table. “That was not part of our deal.”

“An amendment to the agreement then, if you will-”

“I refuse.”

Your peals of laughter filled the room, “You didn’t even let me finish!”

“I refuse.” He repeated sternly. Knowing your personality, it would be an amendment that would greatly irritate or inconvenience him.

“I’d like you to cook a dish for me.” You continued, ignoring his words.

There was a sharp snap as the corner of the table cracked under his hand as incredulity stole over his face.

To begin with, payment for your services had never been cheap, each bag of gold was worth more than several months’ worth of food. If all you wanted was a decent meal, then you’ve already been charging enough to dine at any of Roan kingdom’s finest restaurants.

“It’s not a dish that can be found on any menu in the kingdom.” You tutted as if you knew the thoughts that were going through his head. “It’s not something that can be bought with gold.”

You’re pulling his leg. “And why do you think I’d care to create a dish no one’s heard of?” Beacrox asked through gritted teeth.

“I know you don’t.” You laughed, lips slanted with a smile. “It’s something I’ve tasted a long time ago but have no idea how it’s made. I’ll describe what I remember and if you believe it’s impossible to recreate or not worth the hassle,” you shrugged in an exaggerated display of nonchalance, “then I’ll take the usual payment like nothing’s changed. It’s a good deal for you right?”

Nothing about this deal made sense. You’re essentially offering your services for free while he’d benefit regardless of whether he succeeds in recreating the dish or not. His expression was stiff as he crossed his arms.

You set the package down on the table gently and slid a piece of folded paper next to it. “Take your time to think about it.” You offered as you pulled your hood up. You left the kitchens as quietly as you’d arrived, leaving him to brood in the silence left behind.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Here.” he sets the completed project on the table with the reluctance of a person who would rather be anywhere else but in the kitchens at that very moment. He folded his arms, pinning his hands to his chest, resisting the urge to snatch the plate and throw it in the trash, calling off the deal.

Beacrox had no expectations of being able to recreate a dish he had never heard of. Yet, from the moment he set the plate down, you stiffened in place, your pleasant smile melting away, replaced by shock.

“Well?”, You flinched as he prompted impatiently. You pulled the dish closer, your smile weak and crooked.

“I was just a bit surprised that’s all..” your voice trailed off.

He filed your reactions away in the back of his mind.

Your grip was uncertain but eventually you picked a piece from the plate and placed it in your mouth.

You froze in place, and he immediately slid a cup of water and bowl over.

But you surprised him when you kept it in and swallowed. “It…” He watched as your face straightened slowly, all visible emotions ironed away into one of careful neutrality.

“..tastes nothing like it.”

When vague subjective descriptions on a slim piece of paper were all that he had to work with, he’d expected this outcome. The bag of gold he had prepared in advance was tossed onto the table as he reached to retrieve the dish, only to be deterred when sharp pain sprang across the back of his hand. The surprise he felt from the fact he’d failed to catch your movements was swiftly replaced by irritation when he realised you’d slapped him.

His eyes narrowed, “What are you-“

“I’m taking it.” you said and to his utter confusion, went on to shove another bite in your mouth.

“You just said-“

“I know what I said.” you huffed, “I never said the dish had to taste right did I? It’s a good first try-“ His eyebrows lifted as you suddenly lost the ability to maintain eye contact with him. “Anyways, I’ll be the judge of what’s accepted and I say this passes.”

You've always been an eccentric character, but just when he thought you couldn't faze him further, you managed to render him speechless yet again. Till now, he’s yet to figure out your intention behind your request, if taste was not a priority then what use was creating the dish you’re looking for?

“Get out of my kitchen.”

“But I haven’t-“

“Out.”

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

Of all the informants in the kingdom, none possessed skills that could surpass yours. It was why, despite the many headaches you induced, Beacrox had chosen to suffer your pestering for so long.

Not one of his sources has ever confirmed how you acquire your information or seen you in action. Yet the intelligence you provide, which has, at many times, sounded unbelievable, had been proven to be true time and time again.

Perhaps the strangest thing of all was that, despite the ease with which you uncover others' secrets, the same couldn’t be said vice versa. Little to no information could be found regarding your background, whatever was found was obviously doctored, being far too mundane for someone of your skills. You were either incredibly thorough at covering your tracks or an experienced fraudster, and Beacrox was inclined on believing the latter.

Your unpredictable behaviour made it hard to judge whether you’re an ally or foe, so it was only natural that he’d sought for leverage to hold against you in case there’ll be a day you’d decide to betray them and sell their secrets to their enemies.

That was the only reason he would consider playing along with your games.

Though he knew not the significance of these dishes to you, he had hoped they would provide some insight on your background or places you’ve been to where other sources have failed to narrow down.

But of course even the meals you’d request would be harder if not just as difficult to trace as well.

It was only a matter of time before you caught onto his intentions, after all, he’d never kept his investigations a secret. Yet instead of pulling back like he’d expected, you had become bolder in your requests, eyes sparkling with mischief as if you understood the frustration he was going through and still remain one infuriating step ahead of him at all times.

He’d considered the possibility that you could be pulling his leg, but there was something about the nostalgia in your eyes as you taste each dish that made Beacrox believe in their authenticity.

He glanced at a small box hidden by the side, within held a small but steadily growing pile of recipes of unknown origins. Not for the first time, Beacrox found himself questioning if all these peaceful days have turned him soft after all.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

A familiar, unwelcome figure was sitting in his fresh crate of produce.

A quick scan around the area confirmed that you were alone and he walked over to assess your state. A splatter trail led up to the crate you sat on and his brows furrowed in distaste. The darkness made it difficult to immediately see any obvious signs of injuries and when you made no reaction to his presence, he kicked the crate below you.

“Ow.” you stirred, complaining with a soft laugh.

Conscious.

“Why are you here?”

Your unannounced visit broke one of many unspoken rules governing their kind. As people maintaining a delicate facade, unexpected visits were not merely discouraged but deemed perilous. No one would fault him should he choose to silence you then and there - such was the severity of your faux pas - yet he stood, only mildly irritated, at the disruption you’ve brought to a peaceful night.

It took a moment longer than he liked before you gathered enough strength to speak. “Sorry,” you apologised and for once, actually sounding it. “I just need a little rest. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

Your laboured breathing and unfocused gaze suggested otherwise and he folded his arms as the dreadful feeling of his plans for an early night slipped through his fingers like fine sand.

“How bad is it?”

Impatiently he waited for you to process his words, your sluggishness a strange contrast to your usually sharp wit and quick retorts.

“It’s been treated.”

The smell of blood was sharp and acrid, he would have to clean the stains soon if he wished to avoid its scent lingering in the area. “I will not ask again.” He warned.

You were exhausted, it could be seen from your posture and expression. Though he understood the instinct to hide one’s weakness, from the moment you chose to rest here it wasn’t a matter of ‘if’ the truth comes out but a matter of ‘when’ and Beacrox would preferred if it happened sooner rather than later.

Just as he was contemplating the benefits of leaving you to your fate, your lips loosened. “Stab wound on the left, missed vitals. I’ve been tended to but some of the stitches might have opened up.”

That would explain the bloody trail you left. He should count his blessings that it didn’t sound too bothersome, assuming you hadn't foolishly downplayed the severity of your injuries. Your arms came up defensively as he began moving towards you, eyes widening with surprise, “Wait-“

His arms slipped under and around and with barely a grunt of effort, he lifted you up. The sudden motion drew a muffled groan from you and he allowed you a brief moment to collect yourself before he began moving. From this position, he could acutely feel the heat radiating from your skin and the tremors that wracked your body.

Your confusion and trepidation were clear and it was with some hesitation before you decided to open your mouth-

“Save your breath.” He advised and you obediently swallowed your words.

He moved you into the storage shed behind the kitchen. Though dark, he navigated through the small space easily, setting you on the surface of several boxes, he stepped back to note that you’ve lost consciousness. The walk hadn’t been far but you must have exhausted your reserves traveling here.

From the darkness he brought out a small knife and paused, looking at your face, sweat slicked yet slack from tension, having found an escape from the worries troubling you - however temporary. He recognised that this moment might be a rare opportunity to unveil the secrets you hide, yet as quick as the notion flitted through his mind, it was dismissed just as quickly. With methodical precision, he cut open the side of your shirt where red had stained through.

The wound was as you’d described, if not a bit irritated and swollen. Basic first aid had been applied, though the messy stitch work left much to be desired, it did its job in holding your injury closed. A few stitches had come loose and will need to be reworked but nothing that he’s not capable of handling even with his limited medical knowledge.

As his gaze roamed to your face checking, yes, you were still unconscious, he left and returned moments later with a candle, clean water, cloth and a clean shirt.

A dusty shed and mere candlelight were far from an ideal setting to perform any kind of wound care, but he doubted you’d care at this point. Pristine, white gloves snapped on, he made short work of cleaning, restitching and bandaging your wound.

He was about to tilt a bottle of potion into your lips when you mumbled. He paused, waiting to see if you were regaining consciousness. You mumbled again and he frowned. It took him few moments before he realised two things: you weren’t waking up anytime soon and the words you’re mumbling, weren’t in a language from Roan or even any of the neighbouring kingdoms.

As a master assassin, he had learned many languages, so the fact that you spoke one that he couldn’t place piqued his interest. He watched your lips, intent on studying and memorising the unique intonations and pitch, however, it seems your instincts finally kicked in, and though still unconscious, you’d stopped mumbling.

Even out cold, you’d find a way to be bothersome. There was nothing more he could do, he left the folded, clean shirt he brought along by your side and with one final glance at your still form, he closed the doors behind him and locked it.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

He returned the next morning to a broken lock and an empty shed. In place of where you’re supposed to be was instead a piece of paper and a bag of coins.

“Thanks for last night. Sorry about your spuds, I’ve replaced them for you :)”

A glance to the side confirmed the presence of a fresh crate of potatoes and a slip of paper containing the description of a dish never heard of before in the kingdom.

And for the first time ever, a name to go alongside the unfamiliar dish.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

You never mentioned what happened that night and he didn’t pry. Still, something seemed to have shifted between the two of you.

He no longer chases you away the moment you appear, while you've learned to place yourself to avoiding getting in the way of his cooking. He pretends not to notice when you arrive with injuries and you feign surprise at finding mysterious salves appearing nearby.

“Aw, did you miss my company?” you teased when you caught his gaze assessing you after dropping by from one of your longer absences.

Beacrox made no attempt to conceal the dry scowl on his face. “Like one misses a rat infestation.”

“Charming~” you beamed.

Some things, still don’t change no matter what.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

In the end, it was the one question he couldn’t figure out.

“Why me?”

The dishes you've shared are simple, you could've hired any other chef, given the same descriptions and they would’ve achieved similar results. But you chose to badger him, an unknown chef working for a humble count's family instead.

You paused in your devouring of yet another strange dish, blinking as if surprised that he would be the first to initiate conversation.

“Why Bea! You should have more confidence in yourself, you’re one of the best chefs in Roan!”

It was as obvious a deflection as he ever saw. His fingers tightened around his arms and he took a slow breath. So you’re going to be stubborn. Well, two can play that game. He tried another angle.

The words tasted foreign on his tongue, but they were something that turned over and over in his mind since that night. He’d probably horribly butchered the pronunciation but it seemed the meaning was successfully relayed from the way your eyes widened and your pupils shook with recognition.

The utensil held in your hand clattered to the table and Beacrox kept his eyes trained on you, taking in your paling face. When it didn't seem like you would offer an explanation, he continued.

“It’s what you kept repeating that night.“

A myriad of emotions crossed your face: shock, confusion, fear, and finally, resignation.

In the silence, you slowly repeated those same words. Sharp, crisp and wholly foreign.

"“Home,” your voice was soft, but it was the loudest thing in the kitchen. “‘I want to go home.’” you swallowed thickly, a wavering smile on your face. “that’s probably what I said.”

There was a lot to unpack from that revelation.

He was suddenly reminded of how you’d react to the dishes each time, savouring each one, scouring the plates clean despite the differences in tastes. You ate not to fulfil the hunger of the body but to satisfy a craving of the mind. After receiving the recipe with a foreign name, it had confirmed one suspicion of his, that wherever these dishes came from, whether it was a place or a person that you're reminiscing about, they're likely no longer accessible.

You're reliving memories through dishes you barely remember. Chasing ghosts in your memories in search of some semblance of normalcy.

Trust was a limited and rare currency in the underworld, hoarded jealously and coveted by many. You’d handed him the leash he’d sought since he agreed to your little game yet he felt gutted by the weight of the revelation, his shoulders burdened.

“Why me?” He repeated softly.

You watched him. “I don’t know.” Your voice sounded small and so tired. “I thought maybe, if it’s anyone, you’d probably understand.”

What does the concept of home and person mean when they no longer exist? Who are they but displaced people playing roles too big or small to hold their histories? Bearing memories of a place and person, but unable to find an equivalent?

It was a mistake. He shouldn’t have asked.

“But I wasn’t lying you know?” you added suddenly and he looked up in confusion, the smile you wore was weaker than usual but it was genuine.

“You are one of the best chefs in all of Roan.” You declared in that same, familiar confidence which you use to share all those impossible, far-fetched sounding intel that always, turns out to be fact.

For some inexplicable reason, it was that simple statement that dispersed the tempest building within.

Beacrox sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and exhaled through his nose.

And perhaps, there was a small, exasperated chuckle.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Bea please marry me.”

It wasn't often, but on rare occasions, he would nail the taste of a dish right.

He didn’t bother with a response but moved to refill your plate nonetheless.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Thank you.”

He paused while wiping the dishes. “For what?”

“Just,” Your gaze dropped to the plate before you as your fork tapped lightly against the edge. “Thank you for the food.”

Beacrox watched as you returned to eating, mind filled with memories of all the dishes he's made, of greatswords and bladed edges, and thought of what home and belonging is.

We’re not so different. The idea of it wasn't as horrifying as he had thought. Once, perhaps he would’ve been unnerved by the sentimentality. There are still so many things that remain a secret when it comes to you, and yet, as you close your eyes to savor each bite, he feels as if he knows you better than most.

You ate in comfortable silence. He rolled his shoulders and allowed the tension in them to drop off.

This might not be ‘home’ but for now, this moment was as good a resting place as any for people like them.

“You’re welcome.” he said softly.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

BONUS:

Once again, it begins with a ridiculous request from you.

“Bea please, you have to prepare this for Choi Han. I’ll even sell you my kidneys, I really need to know his reaction.”

What value would owning your kidneys have? That you’d blatantly suggest such things to an assassin like himself was laughable, stranger still was his playing the fool and following along anyways.

He didn't question how you knew about their mansion's new guest, though your sudden interest in the visitor when you’ve shown no such interest in past guests was worthy of note. Even he had unconsciously tensed when the young master had introduced him. Something about the newcomer didn’t seem right. They were strong, but their potential was untapped and raw, like an uncontrollable beast on the verge of lashing out at any moment.

The glimmer of something in your eyes further confirmed his suspicions. You knew something about this stranger though you refused to reveal more, only promising that he’s not a threat to him or Ron.

He frowned at the pot of red he’s stirring, the pungent smell wafting through the room. Footsteps from the doorway had him looking up, but the person that crossed the threshold was not the person he’d expected.

The young master stepped in with a cautious look in his eyes.

“I thought I smelled..” brown eyes narrowed at the pot he held. “What’s that?”

Beacrox glanced down at the strange dish he was asked to prepare, wondering why of all people that could’ve come, it would be Cale Henituse.

“A dish a friend taught me to make.” Then for some reason unbeknownst to him, he offered. “Would the young master like to try?”

Cale hesitated, but eventually slid himself onto a seat, choosing the one farthest away from him. At least the young master seemed sober. Beacrox felt no fondness for the young master he served, even if it was true that he had begun to change recently, raising even the interest of Ron.

Spooning a small portion, he set the dish and utensils down before Cale, ignoring the young man’s flinch as he gauged Cale’s strange expressions.

The young master stared at the dish as if it would leap up and attack him, his strange wariness reminded Beacrox of your reaction when he first presented that first unfamiliar dish to you.

“.. there’s no way..” Cale muttered to himself as he poked and prodded until finally, he tried a bite.

“What.. the hell?”

Beacrox had never seen the young master's eyes bug out like that, and he decided it was quite an entertaining sight, even if the dish’s original target wasn’t meant for the redhead. Still he stifled an irritated sigh as a thought crossed his mind when the young master exclaimed.

“How the hell did you learn to make kimchi?!”

“What the hell did you make me do this time _______?”

Notes: I've had lots of thoughts while writing this imagine turned fic. Nin-deer gave me a simple prompt of "cooking" and I went and turned it into lore- OTL even I don't understand the intricate workings of my brain. I've had to cut out some chapters details as it was growing out of hand so I hope everything's links together properly. I've reached that stage where I've reread a piece of writing so many times, nothing makes sense anymore. I've deliberately left the dishes 'cooked' vague so you're free to imagine whatever cuisine you'd like that Beacrox helped butcher 👍🏼

#TCF #TRASH OF THE COUNT'S FAMILY #IMAGINES #TCF X READER #Beacrox Molan #platonic #pre relationship #multiple identities #after a long hiatus #smacksdown with 4000 worded thesis #believe me when I said this monster got out of control #it was actually longer #i had to cut many parts out to prevent it from turning into a multichaptered fic #this au got out of hand #the lore I had planned...#i would love to see if I'll return to this AU #perhaps post the rest of the 'deleted' moments #would love to hear about everyone's theories on this ficlet

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kingsoowolves · 1 month ago

Text

birthday boy | hsh

pairing: idol boyfriend!seunghan x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

author's note: idk if any of you know it, but Seunghan is actually my first bias in riize. since his hiatus, i miss him so much and each day that passes without his presence in the group, i want him to come back even more. i know there's a bunch of ot6 briizes and i honestly don't really care who everyone chooses to stan. we're all different and have different tastes and likings, i get it. but i'm still holding out hope for him to comeback and that feeling won't die down untill i see his beautiful smile while he's on a stage along with his members again. this work is to showcase my love for him, nothing else. and also for all the ot7 briizes and hongjjangus that miss him just as much as me. i hope you like it, babes 🐈‍⬛🫧🧡

contents: established relationship, aged up!seunghan. mentions of riize members. set in the future, on seunghan's 25th birthday. he is active in the group and riize has been in the scene for a few years. smut and fluff. seunghan wants to have his cake and eat it too, lol. fingering, sex in the shower. sex without protection, cumming inside (don't be like them).

you can also read this work on my ao3, if you’d like

Seunghan is needy and dramatic towards you on a daily basis. But on his birthday, it always gets worse.

He ends every request with a “Please? It’s my birthday”, pulls you to sit on his lap every chance he gets and asks for smooches and attention each half an hour that passes by. It’s adorable and charming, and you always find yourself a willing victim to his whims, kissing and hugging him whenever he desires.

However, in times like this, when you’re rushing to get everything done for the small dinner party you’re hosting for his 25th birthday, it does annoy you a little bit. You’re already preoccupied about failing this day for him because the cake wasn’t yet delivered by the bakery and you only remembered to put the wine inside the freezer twenty minutes ago. At least, there’s still forty minutes left until the time you set for his members to show up and you hope that the wine is cold by then and the cake is inside your fridge.

You’re thinking about all of this while you’re finishing setting the fancy cutlery on the table. Seunghan should be checking on the lasagna inside the oven, but instead he catches you midway through your task, rubbing his chest on your back and his hands on your hips as he starts to place kisses on the side of your neck.

“Babe, the lasagna,” you warn.

“I just checked it. It’s still cooking,” he whispers over the wetness his spit gathered on your skin, making you shiver. He runs his nose from the side of your throat to your ear. “You smell so freaking good.”

“No, I don’t,” you say, closing your eyes, letting your body sag a little against his and reaching a hand back to his neck, keeping his face still on your neck while he resumes peppering kisses on your skin. “I still haven’t showered.”

“You always smell good for me, baby,” he says before nipping your earlobe. You can’t help but sigh from the attention he’s giving you. “And I can help you shower.”

His obvious naughty intentions make you open your eyes and spin around, your hands going to his chest to push him slightly away from you.

“No way,” you shake your head. “I know you’ll be distracting me and not helping at all. Plus, you’re already ready and someone needs to answer the delivery truck when they bring the cake.”

Seunghan gives you his best puppy look and steps closer to you again, his hands going around you to encircle your waist. “Baby, please,” he whines. “We spent the whole day organizing this place. I haven’t been able to fuck you yet and it’s my birthday.”

You chuckle and look up at him, resting your chin on his chest and squeezing his cheeks. “Well, you should’ve thought about that before hosting a dinner party at our place, birthday boy.”

He whines again, pressing his forehead on yours whilst his agile fingers start bunching up the skirt of your old saggy dress, one hand pressing on the underside of your left thigh as if he’s preparing to lift you over the table. “I could just slide right in like this. I promise I’ll be quick.”

“No, Seunghan,” you say, voice firm and serious. He gives you a defeated look and steps back, his hands dropping to his sides. “I’m sorry, baby. But we’re already late as it is. We can do all the shenanigans you want later, okay?”

You get on your tiptoes and press your hands on his shoulders to drop a quick peck to his lips, but Seunghan holds you there, his fingers closing on the back of your neck to turn the kiss into a heated one. You wrap your hands around his neck to give him a little taste of what he’s been craving, letting him kiss you the way he wants, his tongue licking up every crevice of your mouth. When he pulls back, you have to blink your eyes open to wake up your hazy mind.

“Okay,” he whispers, a sly smile playing on the corner of his lips as he watches the reaction only one really good kiss pulled out of you. “Go get ready.”

You gulp and nod your head. “Finish setting the table up for me, please? And don’t forget about the lasagna, too. Oh, and–”

“And the cake should be delivered any minute,” he completes for you. “I know, baby, I know. Now go get yourself prettier for my day.”

You nod again, giving him one last peck on his lips and finally turning around. Seunghan takes the moment to pat your butt lightly and you laugh back at him while you walk to your bedroom. After getting to the en suite bathroom, you turn the water to the temperature you like and hastily slip out of your clothes. You sigh when you step into the shower and the warm water hits your head and shoulders, massaging the knots on the back of your neck.

After you shampoo your hair and begin to cover yourself in soap, you hear the door to the bathroom open up and spin around to see Seunghan a few meters away from the glass enclosure separating you both, his fingers quickly removing his denim jacket and tugging his black t-shirt up.

“Seunghan, no!” You exclaim, watching him slide the shirt out of his body and dropping it on the floor along with your clothes. “I told you, I–”

“Babe, I already turned off the oven and put the lasagna to rest on the counter. I also texted the guys saying they should come an hour later,” he explains, moving his hands to his belt buckle to unfasten it and then zipping down the fly on his pants. “Wonbin hyung agreed to pick up the cake. Already let the bakery know it, too.”

You open your mouth at him in shock and your pink sponge falls from your hand onto the shower tiles. “No, you didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did.” Seunghan laughs at you and resumes taking his jeans off, his briefs going sliding down his legs along with it. He steps out of the fabric and his semi-hard cock springs free, the head of it slapping along his thigh. You bite your bottom lip whilst he slides the shower door open just enough for you to see him in all his glory, perfect body exposed bare right in front of your eyes. “So what it’s gonna be, baby? Are we going to fuck or do you prefer to keep pretending you don’t want this as much as I do?”

“Come in,” you say through gritted teeth and he laughs again, stepping inside and sliding the glass door back on its place. You wind your arms around his shoulders and press yourself against him. “You’re a pain in my ass, Hong Seunghan. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, and you love me,” he mutters while he holds you, splaying both of his hands on your ass.

“Unfortunately, I do,” you whisper back, pulling him in for a kiss.

Seunghan’s lips have always been addictive to you. You love how full and beautiful they are, how his smiles come easily when he quirks the sides of them up just a bit and especially how soft and moist they become while he’s kissing you. You always get lost in the feeling, biting on his bottom lip and drawing pretty sounds out of him. You’re so lost in him at this moment that you don’t even notice how his hands snake down your body, gripping on your flesh until his fingers find the place in between your legs.

He spreads you open with his fingers and you moan, your lips disconnecting with his. He laughs darkly as his forefinger rubs on your clit and you hold onto his shoulders for stability.

“You tried to deny me like that but yet you get this wet from just a few kisses?” He says while he watches your face contorting in pleasure.

“I was trying to be responsible,” you reply, trying to keep your moaning to a minimum while it’s still so early in the game. “Instead of you, who only thinks with your dick.”

Seunghan smiles, fingers massaging over your hole and trying to coax louder moans out of you. “That’s just your effect on me, sweetheart. I can’t help it.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe you’re just a horndo–” You get cut off because of course Seunghan chooses that exact moment to insert two of his fingers inside of you, making the words on your lips turn into a groan and your head loll back.

“What were you saying, baby?” He asks slyly over your exposed neck, pumping his fingers in and out of you with precision. How can he be so fucking good at this?

You gulp down the saliva that collects in your throat and scrunch your eyes while you bask in the feeling of him pleasuring you. “Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought,” he replies with a smile, moving you to press your back against the bathroom wall and reaching down to wrap a hand around one of your thighs, hooking it up around his waist. You press the arch of your foot on his ass to pull him closer to you and soon enough his dick is pressed in between your bodies and he’s rutting on your lower belly. “That’s it, such a good girl for me.”

You move your hand down to cover his pretty cock, pumping him in your fist the best you can while Seunghan distracts you by scissoring his fingers inside your cunt. You try to look down to see what you’re doing, but Seunghan’s head eclipses your visions when he starts dropping kisses on the valley of your breasts. His lips move to one of your perk nipples and you moan out loud when he sucks it into his mouth, flicking the bud with his tongue. Your pace falters on his length and he pulls your hand away from it to intertwine your fingers together, resting them on the coldness of the bathroom tiles beside your head.

“Hani, it’s your birthday,” you say, and he looks up at you with your boob still inside his mouth. “I should be the one pleasuring you.”

He releases your nipple with a pop, then sinks his teeth on the flesh of your other breast. “But you are pleasuring me, baby. Doing whatever I want with you is all I need.”

You sigh when he licks over your neglected nipple, his tongue tracing around the areola over and over again until he gets tired of it and suctions on that one, too. He keeps the unrelenting pace of his fingers inside of you and moves his thumb up your clit again to rub on it.

“But I want to do more for you,” you whisper, starting to thrust your hips up against his hand. Your head already feels dizzy and your vision starts to get hazy with how much he’s overwhelming your senses. You feel that any moment now you might snap.

Seunghan releases his nipple from your mouth t at the same moment the revolutions down your clit get faster, and you can’t stop your moans from echoing around the restroom anymore while he kisses his way up to your lips again.

“Then you can suck me off after dinner, okay?” He mutters, his natural foxy eyes glinting at you and his mouth drinking up your sounds. “You’re close, right?”

“So close, Hani,” you cry out, gripping his hand tightly on yours and tugging on his hair with your other one.

He smiles at you and presses his lips to yours two times. Then, he mutters, “Cum for me now, pretty girl.”

It’s ridiculous that that’s all it takes to get you there. But either way, your orgasm washes over you, the tingling forming in your belly spreading through your limbs and head while your walls convulse around Seunghan’s fingers. He still keeps his work in your pussy while you scream and drop your lips to bite on his neck to give you something to do.

“That’s it, my love. You look so pretty when you fall apart. I want to watch this for the rest of my life,” he whispers in your ear while you sink your teeth on his flesh.

Once there’s no energy left in your body and you’re babbling incoherently on his skin, he slides his hand up to lift your chin and press your head back on the wall. His fingers wipe the drool from the corner of your mouth and you smell your juices on them, your tongue instinctively darting out to lick at them.

“Shit, baby, you got me so hard already,” he heaves while you suck his digits into your mouth, limp hand searching for his cock again. “There’s no need for that.”

You only release his fingers from your mouth after pressing little kisses on the tips of each one, then you smile at him and wrap your hand around his dick, slapping it against your folds to share your wetness and his precum with each other. “You’re going to fuck me now, birthday boy?”

“Are you up for it already?” He asks, trying to convey worry through his little groans and expletives. “I don’t wanna do too much too soon.”

“I don’t care, you can overstimulate me all you want,” you reply back, hitting his dick on your clit to show him that you’re serious. “I just need your dick inside me, Hani.”

“Fuck yeah,” he groans at both your words and how you guide his dick to your entrance, your cunt sucking his fat head inside. “I’ll fuck you dumb, baby.”

“Be my guest,” you moan back, feeling him slide all the way in one go and bottoming out, your walls stretching to accommodate his heavy girth inside.

Seunghan slides out and inside of you slowly only three times. Then he sets a merciless rhythm, hitting you with smooth, fast and hard thrusts. You wrap your other leg around him and he holds you up with his strong legs and arms, hands grasping your back and ass cheeks. You tug on his hair, kiss his cheeks, nip on his lips and suck on his neck and chest while he keeps fucking you through it all. The wet sounds of his dick fleetly moving in and out of your cunt and your skin slapping together bounce around the walls, becoming the back tracking for the harmony of moans you voice out together.

He doesn’t falter for a minute, not even when you reach down to squeeze his balls. Instead of easing down his flow, he spreads one of your legs apart, securing it to the wall behind you while he scrunches his nose and gazes down to watch how your cunt clutches to his cock every time he pulls back and your hand fondles his testicles.

Seunghan is giving you his everything. Hoisting you up, holding you together, pining you to the wall and fucking you deliciously. Ruining you. His arms bulge and his legs flex while he does it and you can see sweat forming on his forehead. The water still falling from the shower hits his shoulder blades and splash warm droplets on your skins and the shower doors, like it’s painting freckles on the scene, covering you both in the marks of your lovemaking.

You think he never looked as beautiful as he does right now.

“Seunghan,” you call for him and he looks at you with lust and love swimming inside his eyes. You run a hand over the fringe that falls on his forehead, slicking it back and then rubbing your fingers on his cheek bone. Handsome as hell. You can’t quite believe this man is all yours. “I’m close. I want you to cum inside, okay?”

He nods fervently and presses kisses on your hand that’s still on his face. “Yeah, baby, you got it,” he says, his voice faltering slightly.

Just then he slows down the drive of his hips, moving his legs and balancing himself again in between your thighs until he finds the new angle he’s searching for. Your breath hitches when it seems like he slides even deeper inside your pussy. The head of his cock starts to hit that amazing spongy spot inside you and he smiles victoriously when you’re reduced to a blubbering mess. When his thumb rubs on your clit, joining his dick in his effort to make you mad, you’re done for.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moan out, squeezing your eyes shut. Your legs tremble and you try to hold it together, but your peak is coming at you faster and faster. “Baby, I think I’m gonna– I’m cum–”

You’re interrupted by Seunghan’s lips crashing on yours and his tongue being shoved inside your mouth. Your orgasm rips through your body like an out-of-control train flying off its tracks. It’s brisk and powerful, leaving your heart racing and your breath short, your mouth hanging open while you moan your boyfriend’s name until your voice feels raw.

“That’s it, baby. That’s a good girl, cumming all over my cock,” Seunghan says, his eyes locking on yours when your jaw clenches. “I’m right behind you, baby. Going to give you my cum now.”

“I want it, Hani, please do it,” you request with a hoarse voice, fighting your words out through the soreness in your throat.

“Oh, shit,” he groans, his hips jerking and stuttering, his cock swelling up and twitching inside you. “Yeah, fucking take it, baby.”

He spills inside your cunt and you moan deeply one more time before he slumps against you, his forehead pressing on your shoulder while your pussy milks him dry. He’s still holding you up, but the hand that was pining your thigh to the wall is now limp, and you move your leg back to wrap around him, tightening your hold of him to keep him inside you as long as possible.

Seunghan moans some more in your ear and you press reassuring kisses on the moles over his shoulders while you both calm down and catch your breaths. When you feel his gasps mellowing out, you press your fingers on his nape and pull his head back to look into his eyes.

“Hi,” you whisper and he gives you the sweetest smile ever, the lines around his eyes cracking and his whisker dimples appearing on his cheeks. “Happy birthday, Hani.”

He hums happily and rests his forehead on yours, dropping five consecutive pecks on your mouth. “Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you say, pressing your lips on his to give him a full kiss. He responds eagerly, tongue stroking yours and hands sliding to the back of your thighs to kee you up.

You feel his dick stirring inside you again when he pulls back and says, “You think we can go for round two before the guys show up?”

You laugh incredulously at him and unwrap your legs from his body, pushing on his shoulders until he pulls out of you. He whimpers pathetically at the loss of contact and you lift a finger to shut him up.

“Don’t you start, Hong Seunghan,” you admonish him.

He just pouts and catches your finger with his hand, puts it inside of his mouth and starts to suck on it, looking at you wickedly as he does so, all that while his cum starts to seep out of you. Your breath hitches at the scene and because his remnants now sticking to your thighs. But you keep your cool, withdrawing your finger from between his lips until it’s out with a pop. You give his chest a slap and then turn, moving to stand under the shower head to clean yourself.

However, before you can get the soap on your body, his arms are around you again and his lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear. “I’ll be quick, baby. Please, it’s my birthday.”

You roll your eyes at him. He’s insatiable. And he’s definitely going to be late for his own birthday party.

happy birthday, hani, i love you! If you liked this work, consider sharing your thoughts with me on the comments or my ask box. thanks for reading! 🧡