#THIS is how you do a satisfying open ending

[vivimura]

belly button piercing fixated boyfriend!riki ♡

PAIRING ~ bf!nrk x gf!reader

SUMMARY ~ something about the little jewel adorning your belly button has riki fascinated in more ways than one.

GENRE ~ smut, fluff

WORD COUNT ~ 2.113k

ᯓ★ requested. ahh, this is kinda mid but i haven't posted a lot lately so pls bare with me and comment, follow and reblog! ily guys

riki was never one to be controlling of what kind of clothes you chose to wear. he thought you were absolutely beautiful and would only encourage you to dress however you wanted, and would even shower you with compliments every chance he got.

though in all honesty, if he was ever given the power to, he'd give absolutely anything up to see you in that cute little pink tank top of yours.

maybe it was the way its straps, so thin, seemed to be falling off your shoulders constantly. or maybe how thin and fitted it was, its neckline low enough to give him a boner if he stared at it for too long.

but— if there was one reason riki was sure of why he loved that top so damn much, was how cropped it was, giving him all the access he needed to the little diamond piercing your belly button he loved oh so much.

he swiftly took the baseball cap snug on the top of his head off, tossing it in a temporary park, his intense eyes never leaving your figure on his bed as he did so. running a hand through his hair, he broke the seemingly comfortable silence with his deep voice.

"what're you doing?"

you, slouched back against a pillow by the headboard of riki’s bed, peaked at riki from over the top of your book.

“just reading.”

riki hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes tracing over the way of which you were positioned. he leaned against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest. he watched the way your eyes lingered on the book, then at the way your pretty lips gently parted as you spoke. 

he pushed himself off the frame, approaching the side of the bed. a small smirk grazed his features as he sat on the end, facing in your direction. when you didn’t look up, he made an effort to grab your attention with a firm grip on your ankle.

“hey—” you yelped when he suddenly yanked at your ankle, the action not harsh enough to actually hurt you but powerful enough to make your body lie down completely on the bed. 

you huffed and rolled your eyes, biting back a smile over how proud riki seemed of being able to have caught you off guard as you closed your book, gently placing it on the night stand beside.

“there. i’m paying attention to you now, you big baby.”  you opened your arms as an invitation for him to join you on the bed.

the satisfied smirk plastered on his face widened into a grin. riki’s eyes followed the way your arms stretched out. he took note of how you watched him stare at the sliver of skin and the glimmer stud in the middle that was exposed from the stretched out fabric of your top. with a subtle laugh he quickly took his place in the space on the bed you left for him. he leaned over, caging you in between his arms as he gently lowered himself on top of you, shifting down just enough so that he was face front with your stomach. his arms found their way around your waist as he settled himself in between your legs. his palms pressed against the sides of your lower torso, his thumbs tracing gentle circles against your skin. he laid his head against your stomach with a sigh, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. he was quiet for a second, but broke the silence with his usual deep, sultry voice. “comfy.”

you laughed softly over how it was basically second nature for him to cuddle up to you. you extended one hand to reach his scalp, gently scratching it and playing with the hair there.

riki’s eyelids fluttered at the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair. a small hum left his lips, and to the average ear it would’ve sounded like he was in complete bliss— maybe even relaxed. but he wasn’t. every slight touch from you was only serving to rile him up. he nuzzled his whole face against your stomach, his nose and lips pressing onto your skin. his thumbs crept under the tank top you were wearing, slowly caressing the soft skin beneath. he lifted his head to lick his lips, once again leaning down to begin peppering soft, wet kisses on the skin surrounding your navel. riki chuckled at the way your stomach flinched every time his warm, wet lips would meet your skin.

“pretty..” he commented, planting yet another kiss on your warm skin. he lifted his head slightly and glanced up at you, making eye contact as he flicked his tongue and swirled it around the bottom gem of your piercing.

your breath hitched, and you let out a quiet exhale to muffle the moan that had built up in your throat. you tilted your head back and shut your eyes to calm yourself down, soon craning your neck back down at him.

“you're really obsessed with that thing, aren't you?”

‘obsessed’ might've been an understatement on your part, riki thought. riki let out a huff of laughter before trailing more kisses along the skin just around your piercing. when he eventually pulled away and looked back up at you, his eyes darkened almost completely. they had gone from their usual sparkly, dark brown to half-lidded obsidian ones. one with desires. “what can i say?” he shrugged, licking his lips. “it's pretty.”

you always thought about how unfair it was, the way riki was able to hold eye contact without wavering, no matter what the situation he was in. the little teasing glint in his orbs, his mouth almost permanently attached to your skin, the way your stomach glistened with his saliva, it was going to be all the slow but apparent death of you. you bit down on your lower lip, seeing through his reasoning of it being ‘pretty’ to ‘i wanna turn you on’. “stop it, riki..”

a low hum left riki as his eyes watched the wet trail his tongue left behind. his hands began to wander again, his fingers dipping under the waistband of the shorts you were wearing— that, too, were driving him crazy. “stop what?” he asked, his voice sultry and deep as he started to move his head down, peppering kisses on your lower abdomen. one of his hands held the left side of your hips, the other snuck up your loose shorts and teasing the edge of your panties.

without giving you any time to process or respond, he further started to kiss his way down and reached your skin right above the waistband of your shorts, his hand still holding onto the left side of your hip to keep you from squirming away. all the while, his fingers sneakily trailed up, ‘accidentally’ brushing by the folds of your pussy.

you let out a sharp gasp, whimpering at the sudden stimulation. your hand caressing his hair tightened in grip, your head now unable to form coherent thoughts, falling back onto the pillow.

he watched your reaction intently, the sight of it causing a low chuckle to escape his mouth. he loved watching the way your body reacted to his touch. the way you were already unraveling beneath him, the needy look in your eyes, the heavy breathing, your soft tugs on his hair.

“yeah, thought so.” the tips of his fingers began tracing the curves of your clothed pussy in a manner excruciatingly slow, causing it to flinch and clench under his touch.

“riki..” you mumbled out his name almost as a whine of need, earning a string of sultry chuckles from him. he hummed in acknowledgement, the sound of it having an edge of playful mockery.

he pulled his hand out of your shorts and sat up on his knees, shifting forward to kneel between your legs instead. the new posture revealed the probably painful erection outlined by his gray sweats. “tell me what you want, baby..” he purred out, untying the knot of the drawstrings of your shorts and beginning to tug it down. 

you bit down on your lower lip in anticipation, spreading your legs wide to accommodate for his large frame. you took the action of him undoing your drawstrings as a silent command to lift your hips and let him take off the shorts, and so you did. “you..”

the single word, so pure and deprived of explicit, conveyed a clear sense of need to riki in such a way that caused his cock to twitch. he let out a hoarse chuckle as an attempt to keep his own behavior in check and nodded. “mm.. yea, i’ll give you what you want...”

by the end of his sentence, riki had tossed the flimsy material of your shorts away and had begun to fumble with his own clothes. riki held back a groan at how visibly wet you’d gotten, busying himself by pulling his tee off and pushing down his pants and boxers in one motion. the angry, mauvish tip of his cock bounced by his abdomen and riki moved forward, pressing one hand beside your head to support his weight.

riki teasingly began rubbing the head of his cock up and down your clothed folds, coating it in your arousal.

you let out a sound between a whimper and whine, hands forming fists of the sheets below. your arousal mixed with his precum drenched the material of your underwear, thinning it in a way that made every sensation of his touch so apparent to be felt, but not enough to please.

“so, so pretty..” riki repeated for the nth time, continuing to toy his tip to your pussy no matter how impatient it made him.

however, the soft whimpers escaping your lips and the way your pussy pulsated was too much for riki to keep up with. he let go of his cock, hooking a finger into the elastic of your panties and began pulling it down.

with a satisfied sigh, he tossed it away, taking in the sight of your wetness all for him to ravish. he aligned his cock, holding onto your hips as he slowly slid into you.

you moaned out his name, your back arching as a reflex as you got yourself used to the feeling of him inside you. his fingers dug into your hips in a way somehow pleasing, and he slowly began to thrust himself in and out of you.

riki groaned and threw his head back at the familiar, nevertheless incredibly pleasing sensation of your tight pussy. he let out a silent curse every time you’d clench a little around him, fucking you with deep strokes.

the pretty sounds of your moans were like music to his ears, as his hips snapped forward over and over again, draining your mind of any thoughts except for him, and how good he made you feel.

one of his hands gripping your hips moved to lay flat against your stomach, and he groaned at the cool sensation of your piercing under his warm palm, and how it was protruding out from the effect his cock stuffed deep inside you. “fuck, baby..”

he flicked the jewel with his finger and continued pounding into you, leaning forward to capture your lips into a bruising kiss that muffled both your sounds of pleasure. he swallowed your moans and invaded his tongue into your mouth, picking up the speed at which he slammed into you balls deep. he could feel you flutter and clench around him as evidence that you were close, so he slid his hand from your stomach down to your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in hard, fast circles.

the kiss, initiated by him, was broken by you when he began pleasuring your clit, feeling the need to be able to moan freely. your legs trembled and bucked just a little over how he could make you feel so damn good.

“riki, shit-.. i’m gonna..”

“fuuuck..”

he groaned out at the feeling of your cum beginning to coat his cock. riki’s dark eyes bore into yours, and with a feral groan, he slammed himself deep into you, burying his cock into your pussy as his own release overtook him.

grinding his hips into you, he pushed every bit of his release back into you, letting go of your clit and hip to interlock his hands with yours. for a few moments, the two of you savored the moment of high and panted to catch your breath.

he leaned forward and kissed you once again, this one more sweet and intimate than the last one.

[iztea]

finally watched hannibal in the year of our lord 2025. a life altering experience. it's everything to me. top 2 fav tv shows

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: I Want a Refund || Trey Clover

When the universe dunks you into a dumpster fire of a novel as the villainess, survival is key. Except your husband, Trey Clover, turns out to be such a green flag that it gets a little harder to function.

Series Masterlist

You prided yourself on being a normal, decent person. Maybe even a good person, depending on who you asked. Sure, you weren’t out here saving kittens from trees or solving world hunger, but you did your part.

You recycled when you remembered, held the door open for strangers (if they were close enough, you weren’t that kind of hero), and even tossed bread crumbs to the pigeons outside your apartment every now and then. It wasn’t much, but it was honest work.

So, really, what you didn’t expect was to be completely betrayed by the universe. The betrayal began small, like a mosquito buzzing in your ear: the newest novel you’d been anticipating for months was sold out.

“Are you serious?” you grumbled, glaring at the empty display like it had just insulted your mother. A handwritten sign on the shelf read: ‘SOLD OUT! More in stock soon!’ in cheerful cursive, as if mocking you.

What were you supposed to do now? Go home empty-handed? Waste your perfectly good afternoon plans of curling up with a book? Absolutely not. Refusing to admit defeat, you scanned the bookstore until your gaze fell on the “New and Best-Selling” rack.

One book immediately caught your eye. The cover was... well, something. It looked like someone had raided a middle schooler’s stash of Barbie stickers, splattered glitter over the whole thing, and slapped on an aggressively curly gold font that screamed, I’M A ROMANCE NOVEL!

You sighed. “Fine. How bad could it be?”

It could be very, very bad.

The first red flag was the synopsis. It introduced Trey Clover, the Grand Duke, who loved his spouse, the villainess, with a devotion so pure it made you want to gag. But then came the second male lead, the Prince, who confessed his love to Trey and the villainess, because monogamy was too boring for this book.

And then there was the heroine. The synopsis just called her “the Saintess,” because why bother giving her a name when her only personality trait was being the worst human being imaginable? She appeared out of nowhere, became the Saintess overnight (because logic?), and made it her life’s mission to ruin the villainess’s life while somehow convincing everyone she was an angel.

Oh, and the Prince? The book had him slip on a rock and die halfway through the plot, like the author had a word count limit and didn’t know what else to do with him. The villainess ends up dying too, right aftetr asking Trey for a divorce to "protect him." The ending involved Trey marrying the heroine, despite spending the entire book side-eyeing her like she owed him rent.

You closed the book slowly, your soul drained of all joy. “What in the fresh hell did I just read?”

But no, you couldn’t let this stand. You were a taxpayer, a contributing member of society. You did not deserve this literary slap in the face.

With righteous indignation burning in your chest, you marched back to the bookstore. You slapped the book onto the counter with a dramatic flair that deserved a standing ovation.

“Refund,” you declared, glaring at the cashier.

“Uh... we don’t usually do refunds on books you’ve already read...” they began hesitantly.

“I don’t care,” you snapped, pointing at the glittering monstrosity. “This isn’t a book. It’s a hate crime against literature. A refund, please, before I start sobbing in public.”

After a long pause—and possibly fearing a customer service meltdown—they handed you store credit. Satisfied but still simmering with rage, you stomped out of the store, muttering to yourself about bad authors, worse editors, and the existential crisis of knowing someone got paid to write that garbage.

And that’s when karma struck.

A segway—a SEGWAY—came hurtling toward you at Mach speed, piloted by a man dressed in full medieval knight armor.

“MAKE WAY FOR SIR SCOOTINGTON!” he screamed, his voice muffled by his helmet.

You froze. Your brain could not process this level of absurdity in such a short amount of time. Was this a prank? A hallucination? Had the book actually been cursed and now you were living out its bad writing?

The segway didn’t stop. It hit you with a solid THUNK, sending you flying backward into a suspiciously well-placed pile of garbage bags.

As you lay there, buried under the remains of someone’s takeout and a very old banana peel, as your vision started to blur, you stared at the sky and thought:

Dawg, why me??

You woke up to the faint chirping of birds and the kind of silence that only rich people seem to afford. Something felt... off. The sheets were too soft, like they’d been spun from angel whispers and a mid-tier deity’s hair. Your pillow was the perfect combination of fluffy and firm, a far cry from the lumpy second-hand abomination you’d bought on sale three years ago.

Your eyes cracked open, squinting against the sunlight filtering through an elaborate, gold-encrusted chandelier. A chandelier. In a bedroom. You lived in a shoebox apartment; your idea of luxury was a lamp that wasn’t from a clearance bin.

You turned your head slightly, and your soul froze mid-exit.

There was someone next to you.

Your brain screeched to a halt, flashing every warning signal it had. Stranger. Bed. You. No.

The only living thing that should’ve been in your apartment was the stray cat you’d nicknamed Gremlin, and he sure as hell didn’t have human proportions or a steady breathing rhythm.

Slowly—painstakingly—you tilted your head to look at your unwanted companion.

It was a man. A very attractive man, sleeping peacefully on his side, glasses perched askew on the nightstand. His hair was a soft mess, his breathing even, and his entire aura screamed gentle husband vibes.

Then recognition sucker-punched you in the gut.

No.

No.

It couldn’t be.

You blinked. Looked again. Replayed every horrible memory of that atrocious novel you had read, and then read again because you hated yourself.

It was Trey Clover.

Male lead. Gentleman. Human embodiment of a warm cup of tea. The guy who was in love with his villainess spouse (you remembered her being dramatic but competent) before the world went full dumpster fire.

Your breathing hitched. You stared down at your hands, and they stared back—perfectly manicured, dainty, soft hands that had never touched a single dirty dish or over-scrubbed countertop.

The reality hit you like a segway knight at full speed.

You’d been isekai’d.

You fought the urge to scream into the pillow. Was this some karmic punishment for returning that book? Was your snarky review in the Reddit thread too harsh? Because this? This was an unholy level of irony.

Trey stirred beside you, his brow furrowing slightly as his hand lazily reached for his glasses. He slid them on, blinking sleepily as his gaze landed on you.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was soft, groggy, and just a little raspy—the kind of voice you’d pay extra to have someone read you bedtime stories with. “You’re staring.”

For a moment, your brain blue-screened. Trey Clover—novel character and now your husband, apparently—was looking at you with concern, and all you could think was: At least he’s hot.

“…Nothing,” you croaked, swallowing down the rising tide of panic. “Just… processing.”

“Processing what?” he asked, sitting up slightly and rubbing his eyes, his entire demeanor radiating "adoring husband" energy.

You clenched the sheets in your fists, trying to will yourself to wake up from this insane fever dream. Unfortunately, the chandelier wasn’t disappearing, Trey wasn’t fading into mist, and your perfectly moisturized skin wasn’t breaking into your usual crusty dryness.

This was real.

And somehow, you were the villainess in a novel you’d once described as "a literary abomination designed to kill brain cells."

The sound of a soft knock at the bedroom door made you jump, nearly upsetting the tower of books you’d been flipping through in your attempt to figure out where in the dumpster fire of this timeline you were.

“Come in?” you called hesitantly, trying to shove the incriminating evidence of your non-villainess-like behavior—a half-written list titled HOW TO NOT DIE TRAGICALLY—under a pillow.

Trey stepped in, balancing a tray of food like he was auditioning for Husband of the Year. His hair was slightly mussed, the sleeves of his button-up rolled up just enough to show forearms that could inspire sonnets. The man was a walking Pinterest board, and it was unfair.

“I brought you something to eat,” he said with a small smile, setting the tray on the table. “You’ve been skipping meals, and that’s not like you.”

You laughed nervously, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “Oh, um, yeah. Upset stomach. You know how it is.”

Trey raised an eyebrow, his smile unwavering but his eyes far too knowing. “Sure. And I’ll be here while you eat, just to make sure you’re feeling better.”

Oh, no.

You stared at the tray like it had betrayed you. Soup, bread, and some suspiciously perfect desserts that looked like they had been made by the hands of an angel. You couldn’t say no without sounding even sketchier.

“Right,” you muttered, picking up the spoon with the grace of someone about to face a firing squad. As you sipped, Trey watched silently, his chin resting on one hand, his soft gaze pinned on you. The air felt so heavy you could’ve cut it with a butter knife.

“Are you going to go through with it?” he asked suddenly.

You froze mid-bite, the words hitting you like a frying pan to the face. “Go through with… what?”

“The divorce,” he said simply.

You choked on your soup. The spoon clattered back into the bowl as you grabbed a napkin, trying to avoid literally dying of shock. Divorce? Divorce?! That wasn’t in the plan! You knew what happened after the divorce—the villainess died, and you weren’t about to let fate steamroll you into an early grave, again.

“What? No! Of course not!” you sputtered, waving your hands in frantic denial. “Why would I want a divorce? You’re, uh, great! Fantastic! A literal dream husband!”

Trey blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion before his expression softened into something warmer, almost relieved. “You… want to work things out?”

“Yes!” you blurted, nodding with enough enthusiasm to give yourself whiplash. “Absolutely! Let’s work this out. Together. Like a team.”

His lips curved into a rare, genuine smile that nearly melted you on the spot. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead that left your brain doing cartwheels. “Alright. I’ll hold you to that. I’ll be back for dinner, so rest up until then.”

He left the room, and the moment the door clicked shut, you flopped back onto the bed like a deflated balloon. The pillow muffled your scream of embarrassment as you kicked your feet, equal parts flustered and mortified. What was that? Why did he have to be so sweet? How were you supposed to survive this level of tenderness without combusting?

The door creaked open again.

You froze mid-giggle, legs tangled in the sheets like a caught fish. Trey stood in the doorway, eyebrow raised and looking like he was about two seconds away from bursting into laughter. “Forgot my pen,” he said casually, strolling over to grab the item from the bedside table.

You wanted the floor to swallow you whole. “Oh. Uh. Right.”

He paused on his way out, leaning down to kiss your cheek with infuriating gentleness. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

And just like that, he was gone again, leaving you red-faced, flustered, and questioning every life choice that had led to this moment.

It had been such a nice meal. The kind where the food was good, the company better, and the wine just strong enough to make you feel warm and floaty but not stupid. Trey was smiling faintly at you over his plate, his rare but deeply satisfying I’m enjoying myself face in full effect, and you dared to think, Hey, maybe I can survive this isekai nonsense after all.

And then the restaurant door swung open, and your fragile peace shattered like a dropped wine glass.

The prince had arrived.

Trey’s face immediately darkened like a thunderstorm on the horizon, and you felt yourself lose a year of your life just from sheer dread. The prince was a walking disaster in human form, and you’d been hoping to avoid him like the plague. But the universe clearly hated you because here he was, sashaying through the restaurant like he owned the place.

“Oh no,” you whispered, gripping your fork like it could somehow protect you.

Trey’s jaw tightened as the prince spotted you both, his grin wide enough to make you wish the floor would open up and swallow you.

“Darlings!” the prince cried, crossing the room with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever off its leash. “Fancy seeing you here!”

You didn’t even get a chance to object before he grabbed a chair from a nearby table, spun it around dramatically, and wedged himself between you and Trey, plopping down like he’d been invited. Spoiler alert: he hadn’t.

“Your Highness,” Trey said through clenched teeth, managing to sound both polite and like he was ready to stab someone with a salad fork.

“Oh, come now, Trey,” the prince laughed, waving off the formality. “No need to be so stiff. After all, we’re practically family!”

You didn’t get the chance to ask how that made sense before he grabbed your hand—and Trey’s—planting a wet, sloppy kiss on each. The sound it made was unholy, like a boot pulling free from a swamp. You and Trey simultaneously stiffened, the same thought clearly running through your minds: Don’t cringe, don’t cringe, don’t cringe…

“I simply had to come over when I saw you two!” the prince gushed, oblivious to your visible discomfort. “The saintess—bless her kind, radiant heart—has been dying to see you both!”

You glanced at Trey, who was visibly restraining himself from rolling his eyes.

“She’s throwing a ball this weekend,” the prince continued, clasping his hands together like he was sharing the world’s most exciting news. “And you must come. Truly, it’d be… well, treasonous not to, considering we’re both inviting you!”

Ah, there it was. The veiled threat disguised as politeness. You hated that this guy was smart enough to wield his royal status as a weapon, even if he made everything sound like it came with a complimentary gift basket.

You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look too much like a grimace. “We’d be honored, Your Highness.”

Trey shot you a subtle look, one that very clearly said Traitor, but you knew he agreed. Anything to avoid another round of Wet Hand Kisses.

“Wonderful!” the prince declared, clapping his hands together. “I knew you two would understand. You always were the reasonable ones.”

He finally stood up, ruffling Trey’s hair in a way that made his eye twitch before striding off like he hadn’t just hijacked your peaceful dinner.

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, you slumped back in your chair, utterly drained. “I feel like I need to bathe in holy water.”

Trey pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “I should’ve poisoned his dessert last time.”

You stared at him. “You what?”

“Nothing,” he said, picking up his fork like nothing had happened. “Let’s finish eating.”

You could still feel the ghost of the prince’s wet kiss on your hand, and you shuddered. “Do you think we can fake our deaths before Saturday?”

Trey actually looked like he was considering it.

The ball was, against all odds, actually enjoyable. The lights glittered like fairy dust, the music was just the right level of lively, and the wine was strong enough to turn your earlier dread into a warm, floaty haze. Trey was by your side, charming in his tailored suit, and for once, the prince and saintess were blissfully absent.

"Maybe they got lost," you whispered to Trey, leaning in conspiratorially. "Or better yet, maybe they found a better party and decided to leave us alone."

Trey smirked, sipping his wine. "If only we were that lucky."

Your hopes were dashed, naturally, when the prince appeared out of nowhere like some unholy summon. One second you were lifting a glass to your lips, and the next, your arm was being yanked so hard you almost spilled your drink.

“Come now, my dear!” the prince declared, grinning in a way that felt more like a threat than an invitation. “Dance with me!”

Before you could even process what was happening, you were being twirled onto the dance floor. Across the room, you caught a glimpse of Trey being snatched by the saintess, who looked like she had all the coordination of a baby deer on ice.

The prince pulled you in too close, his breath an unholy concoction of garlic and what might’ve been sour milk. You tried to politely lean back, but he just leaned closer, grinning obliviously.

“You’re stiff, my dear,” he said, his voice low and entirely too sultry for someone who smelled like a kitchen accident. “Loosen up!”

Meanwhile, Trey was enduring his own nightmare. The saintess stepped on his foot with her stiletto for the fourth time, and you could swear you saw him wince in actual pain. She was chattering nonstop about something—maybe puppies, maybe world peace—you couldn’t hear over the sound of her heels clobbering the floor.

When the ordeal finally ended, you staggered back to Trey, feeling like you’d aged ten years. He looked equally frazzled, rubbing his shoulder like it had been yanked out of its socket.

“I’d say that was horrible,” he said under his breath, “but I think ‘horrible’ is too kind.”

Before you could respond, the saintess suddenly tripped. She wasn’t even near you—she was all the way across the room—but she hit the ground with a dramatic thud, and her dress promptly ripped down the side.

You blinked. “Wait, what just—”

“I knew it!” she screeched, pointing an accusatory finger at you from the floor. “You sabotaged me!”

The prince, for once, looked baffled. He glanced between her and you like he was trying to solve a complicated riddle. “But… she wasn’t even near you?”

“SABOTAGE!” the saintess shrieked again, her voice cracking.

The original villainess would’ve taken the high road, maybe pretended to be insulted or outraged. You, however, were just drunk enough to find the entire thing hilarious.

You laughed. Loudly.

And to your absolute delight, the crowd followed suit. Quiet snickers turned into outright guffaws as everyone around you dissolved into laughter.

The saintess gawked, looking like a wet cat as she scrambled to her feet. “You’re all… MONSTERS!” she shrieked, before fleeing the room with a level of dramatics that would make even a soap opera jealous.

The prince hesitated, torn between chasing after her or staying to glower at you and Trey. Finally, with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like “I hate my life,” he ran after her, disappearing into the night.

“Well,” Trey said, offering his hand with a faint smirk, “that was… something. Care to salvage the evening with a proper dance?”

You took his hand, letting him spin you onto the floor. The music softened, the crowd fading into the background as Trey pulled you close.

“You look stunning tonight,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear as you danced.

The compliment hit you like a sucker punch, leaving you so dazed that, in your flustered state, you impulsively dipped him instead of the other way around.

Trey laughed, eyes crinkling with genuine delight. “What are you doing?”

“Shut up,” you hissed, cheeks burning as you held the pose.

But to your surprise, he didn’t protest. He let you dip him, even laughing as you pulled him back up. And when the dance ended, he kissed your cheek, sending your heart into a full-on meltdown.

“That,” he said, his voice filled with amusement, “was the most fun I’ve had at a ball in years.”

The tea party was a picturesque affair, all pastel tablecloths, delicate porcelain cups, and the kind of floral arrangements that screamed wealth and good taste. You were seated with Riddle, Cater, and Che’nya at a table tucked under a wisteria-laden gazebo, trying your best to survive the endless parade of gossip and sweets.

The conversation drifted naturally, like it always did, until someone—probably Cater—brought up the topic of Trey.

“Y’know,” Cater began, swirling his tea with exaggerated nonchalance, “Trey’s been looking at you like you personally hung the moon and stars lately. It’s kinda adorable.”

Che’nya leaned over, grinning like the Cheshire Cat he was. “So deep in love, it’s practically a romantic trench. What’s your secret, huh? Love potion? A really good pie?”

You chuckled, brushing off the comment, but then you glanced across the garden—and froze.

There he was, Trey Clover, the ridiculously perfect husband material that fate had handed you in this bizarre isekai life. He was standing a little ways off, chatting with a few nobles, but his gaze was unmistakably fixed on you.

When your eyes met, he smiled. Not just any smile—a warm, genuine, I-would-die-for-you-and-bake-you-cookies-afterwards kind of smile. It hit you like a runaway carriage.

Your chest tightened, your stomach flipped, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to pause.

Oh no.

Oh no.

You were in so deep.

Like, Titanic-hitting-the-iceberg-and-sinking-to-the-ocean-floor deep.

“Uh oh,” Cater sang, leaning closer with a smirk that could only mean trouble. “I know that look. Someone just had their Hallmark movie epiphany.”

You snapped out of it, cheeks burning. “What look? I don’t have a look!”

“Oh, you totally do,” Che’nya chimed in, his grin somehow wider. “It’s all dreamy and starry-eyed, like you’re in a fairy tale. Which, I guess you kinda are?”

Riddle, ever the straight man in these situations, regarded you with a mix of pity and exasperation. “Please tell me you’re not about to let these two meddle in your relationship.”

But before you could defend yourself, Cater was already leaning forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Cay-Cay’s got you covered! Wanna confess? I can totally set the mood—candles, roses, soft music…”

“I—what?” you stammered, still too dazed by your revelation to form a coherent response.

“That’s a yes!” Che’nya declared, clapping his hands together. “Alright, let’s brainstorm. Hot air balloon confession? Dramatic rain scene? Ooh, what about—”

“Absolutely not,” Riddle interrupted, his tone sharp as ever. He turned to you, expression weary. “I’ll make sure they don’t do anything absurd, but honestly, why not just tell Trey yourself? He’s your husband.”

You groaned, sinking into your chair as Cater and Che’nya continued to scheme with increasingly outlandish ideas. Meanwhile, Riddle looked at you like you’d just wired your entire fortune to a scammer and promised to fix it for you later.

Across the garden, Trey caught your gaze again, his brows furrowing slightly in concern at your flustered state. He started to make his way over, and your heart leapt into your throat.

Oh no.

Whatever happened next, you were absolutely not ready.

Riddle had been firm, as always. “A pie,” he said with the kind of authority you’d expect from someone sentencing a man to death. “It’s simple, heartfelt, and Trey would appreciate the effort. Not that I have time to indulge in frivolities like this, but… you’re lucky I know the basics.”

Turns out, Riddle did not know the basics. And neither did you.

What followed could only be described as a culinary catastrophe.

The kitchen looked like it had been struck by a flour tornado, with you and Riddle at its chaotic epicenter. Your attempt at pie dough was a war crime in the making—half stuck to the counter, half to your hands, and none of it remotely edible.

“Why is it stretching?” Riddle hissed, his face as red as his hair, holding one end of the dough while you gripped the other. The elastic monstrosity between you refused to snap, stretching longer and longer like some unholy noodle.

“I don’t know!” you shrieked back, your voice an octave higher than usual. “I followed the instructions! Mostly! Kind of!”

“‘Kind of’ isn’t good enough! Put some force into it!”

Riddle tugged one end of the dough like he was in a tug-of-war with a particularly stubborn ghost. You yanked back, and the dough elongated even further, wobbling ominously in the air.

That’s when Trey walked in.

He stopped in the doorway, taking in the absolute chaos: the flour-streaked counter, the rolling pin embedded in what used to be a bag of sugar, and you and Riddle holding opposite ends of the world’s saddest dough.

“What… exactly is happening here?” Trey asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You froze, still clutching the dough. Riddle looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

“We’re baking,” you managed to squeak out.

Trey blinked, then burst into laughter, the sound warm and rich like honey. “Is that what you’re calling this?”

His laughter didn’t help your embarrassment, but the way he stepped forward, gently taking the dough from you and Riddle like a benevolent baking god, did. “Alright, let’s see if we can salvage this. Flour, water… and patience. You two watch and learn.”

You stood back, flustered and hopelessly smitten as Trey worked his magic. In minutes, he turned your disaster into a perfectly respectable pie crust. He even smiled at you both as if to say nice try, kids, and it made you feel oddly warm inside.

Still too mortified to admit the pie was meant for him, you let him finish it while Riddle quietly excused himself, muttering about overdue paperwork.

You did feel for Riddle, poor guy was stuck babysitting the Prince after all. Maybe the dough was sad because of his stress.

Later, Cater and Che’nya were far too pleased with themselves when they found you.

“So,” Cater said, grinning, “how’s Operation Swoon going?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you grumbled, remembering the dough debacle.

Che’nya’s grin widened. “Lucky for you, we’ve got Plan B: flowers! Romantic, classic, and impossible to mess up.”

You weren’t sure about that last part, but their enthusiasm was infectious. You ended up at a florist with Cater coaching you through every step, from picking out the blooms to tying a ribbon. By the time you were done, the bouquet looked gorgeous.

When you handed the flowers to Trey later, he looked… stunned. His eyes widened, his cheeks turned faintly pink, and his smile was so soft and genuine that you nearly dropped dead on the spot.

“For me?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You nodded, suddenly nervous. “Yeah. Just, uh, wanted to thank you. For everything. You know.”

Trey cradled the bouquet like it was something precious. “Thank you. Really. This means a lot.”

And when he smiled at you again, you realized that maybe, just maybe, Cater and Che’nya’s meddling wasn’t so bad after all.

You were practically vibrating with excitement as you entered the restaurant, rare flower in hand. You’d spent far too much money on it, but it was worth it. Trey deserved nothing less. The merchant had waxed poetic about how the flower symbolized eternal devotion, and you figured it was the perfect way to set the stage for your long-overdue confession.

Trey was already seated at the table, his calm demeanor somehow both comforting and devastatingly attractive. When he saw you approach, his eyes softened, and that sweet smile of his—the one that made your knees weak—spread across his face.

You handed him the flower, and his expression lit up as though you’d just handed him the moon.

“For me?” he asked, his voice full of surprise and warmth.

“Of course,” you said, a little shy but mostly proud of yourself. “I thought it suited you.”

His fingers brushed yours as he took the flower, and before you knew it, you were holding hands across the table. The atmosphere felt perfect—soft candlelight, his warm gaze locked on yours, and your heart pounding like it had just discovered cardio.

This was it. The moment to confess that you loved him.

You opened your mouth, ready to pour your heart out—

And then she appeared.

The saintess, an uninvited hurricane in the form of a woman, swept into the room with all the grace of a bull in a china shop. You barely had time to process her arrival before she snatched the flower from Trey’s hand like a seagull stealing a french fry.

“Oh, Trey, you shouldn’t have!” she gushed, clutching the flower to her chest like a deranged soap opera villain. “How thoughtful of you to get this for me!”

Trey’s face froze in what could only be described as polite murder. His jaw tightened, his grip on the table visibly white-knuckled.

You, however, were already halfway to a breakdown. “Excuse me?” you sputtered.

The saintess ignored you entirely.

Enter the prince, the human equivalent of a golden retriever who’d been hit on the head one too many times. He trailed behind her, clearly regretting his existence. For once, he seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation and awkwardly tried to mediate.

“Ah, maybe I should—uh—just give this back,” he mumbled, reaching for the flower.

The saintess responded by shoving him.

The prince, unprepared for even the gentlest resistance, stumbled directly into Trey’s arms.

Trey, now holding a grown man like a bridal bouquet, froze. His eyes darted to you, silently screaming what do I do with this?

Before he could decide, the prince looked up at him, smiled coyly, and winked.

You might’ve laughed if the saintess hadn’t chosen that exact moment to drape herself across you.

“Oh, my dear friend,” she simpered, batting her lashes, “surely you understand Trey’s affection for me. You’ll support us, won’t you?”

You were too stunned to respond, stuck holding the saintess like an overly affectionate sloth. Across the table, Trey looked like he was begging whatever gods existed for an escape route.

Finally, something in Trey snapped. Gently—yet firmly—he set the prince in his seat like a toddler being put in timeout. Then, without a word, he reached across, grabbed the saintess by the arm, and unceremoniously deposited her in her own chair.

“You’ll have to excuse us,” Trey said, his voice smooth but his expression pure I’m done with this nonsense. He grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the restaurant, not even sparing a glance back.

Oh, and he definitely took the flower back.

In the carriage, Trey was silent, his expression unreadable. You hesitated before asking, “Are you okay?”

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just… tired.”

“Of what?”

“Of not having moments with you for myself,” he said, his voice soft but full of frustration. “Every time I try to enjoy being with you, someone interrupts. I just… I want you. Just you.”

Your heart practically melted on the spot. Overwhelmed by his honesty, you leaned forward and kissed him—a gentle, tentative gesture that said everything you’d been too nervous to put into words.

Trey froze for a moment, then pulled you closer, kissing you again, this time deeper and with so much emotion that you thought your brain might short-circuit. His hands cradled your face, and the world outside the carriage ceased to exist.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his smile so radiant it made your heart skip. “I guess this means you’re mine?”

You nodded, breathless.

“And I’m yours,” he murmured, sealing the confession with another kiss that left you thoroughly, blissfully dazed.

It was supposed to be a simple stroll through the common garden—just you and Trey enjoying a rare moment of peace. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and you were basking in the warmth of Trey's smile when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him.

The prince.

And worse, the pebble.

You recognized it instantly—the cursed rock from the original novel, the one destined to send the prince spiraling into a tragic, fatal end. It glittered ominously on the path, as if taunting fate.

The prince, blissfully unaware, strutted forward like he owned the place. He stepped right onto the pebble, his foot slipping out from under him with comical precision.

In that split second, you knew what you had to do. Annoying as he was, no one deserved to die because of a glorified piece of gravel.

You lunged forward, grabbing the prince by the arm and yanking him upright just before disaster struck.

He looked at you, wide-eyed, for all of two seconds before breaking into a toothy grin. “Ah, so this is love,” he declared, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “Fear not, my dear! Your feelings for me are obvious, and I, in my infinite generosity, shall grant you the honor of becoming my bride!”

Trey, who had been watching this unfold with his usual calm, suddenly stiffened. His hand slipped into yours, his grip firm but not unkind as he gently pulled you closer.

“Your Highness,” Trey began, his voice polite but laced with steel, “I think you may have misunderstood something.”

“Oh?” The prince arched a brow, clearly oblivious to the warning signs.

“She's already married,” Trey said, his tone so calm and measured it was borderline terrifying. “To me.”

The prince’s eyes lit up with excitement, not deterred in the slightest. “A rivalry for their love, then? Excellent! Let the best man win!”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Riddle—ever the voice of reason (or exhaustion)—strode into the fray like a man who had been dealing with this nonsense for far too long.

“Your Highness,” Riddle snapped, looking entirely done with life. “What in the sevens are you doing?” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the prince by the collar and dragged him away like a scolding parent hauling a toddler out of the candy aisle.

“You can’t just propose to married people!” Riddle hissed as they disappeared down the path.

Left in their wake, you spotted Cater and Che’nya lounging under a tree, shamelessly munching on popcorn. Cater caught your eye and waved, looking far too entertained by the whole ordeal.

“Did you see Trey’s face?” Che’nya whispered loudly. “I’d give it a solid nine out of ten on the jealousy scale.”

“Totally,” Cater agreed. “Hey, Alfred!” he called to the butler nearby. “Get me a glass of wine; this show’s getting good!”

Before you could decide whether to laugh or cringe, Trey’s hand gently tilted your chin, drawing your attention back to him.

“Focus on me,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto yours.

And oh, jealous Trey was adorable. His usual calm demeanor was tinged with a possessiveness that made your heart skip several beats.

Caught up in the moment, you leaned forward and kissed him, a quick but sweet gesture that left him blinking in surprise before a soft smile spread across his face.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Cater almost spill his wine in excitement, while Che’nya clapped like a seal.

“Now that’s spicy!” Che’nya crowed.

“I need another glass,” Cater sighed dramatically, as if the sheer romance was too much for his delicate heart.

But you didn’t care. Trey’s arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and for once, the rest of the world faded away.

The war room was dead silent, the kind of silence so heavy you could hear the shuffle of maps and the scratch of quills on parchment. Every important figure of the empire was present—Trey and you, the Emperor and Empress, military generals whose scowls could crack stone, the Pope looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else, and, shockingly, even the Prince, for once not actively trying to ruin someone’s day.

Strategies were discussed in grim tones. Supply lines, terrain advantages, possible reinforcement numbers—you and Trey were fully immersed in weighing the support your duchy could offer. For once, even the Prince managed to look engaged, though he was suspiciously chewing on the end of his quill like a kid stuck in detention.

Then, like an uninvited storm, the doors slammed open.

“Hellooooooo!”

Every head in the room turned as the Saintess waltzed in, an hour late, as if this were a garden party and not a high-stakes war council. She was dressed in what could only be described as a fever dream of bad taste: a dress so garish and bedazzled it could probably be seen from orbit, complete with absurd feathered accessories sticking out at odd angles like a startled peacock.

“Sorry, I’m late,” she sang, twirling unnecessarily as if this was a runway. “I couldn’t decide which dress to wear. Do you think this one looks good?”

The silence was palpable, charged with a collective secondhand embarrassment that could power an entire city.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, wondering if you could claim an "upset stomach" for the fifth time this month. Then, unable to stop yourself, you deadpanned, “Yes. It’d make a great enemy flag.”

Trey choked on a laugh, quickly covering it with a cough. The Pope crossed himself, possibly praying for patience. One of the military generals muttered something under his breath, hand twitching toward the hilt of his sword. The Prince just buried his face in his hands.

The Saintess, predictably, burst into tears. “You’re so mean! I’m just trying to brighten up this dreary meeting!”

The Emperor looked deeply, soul-crushingly confused, glancing at the generals as if to ask, Does this happen often? Meanwhile, the Empress, seated beside him, was gripping the armrest of her chair so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

Trey sighed and leaned closer to you. “I’ll handle it,” he murmured, giving you a quick nod before standing.

He approached her like one might approach a wild animal, hands raised in surrender. “Saintess, perhaps we could discuss this outside—”

But no sooner had he stepped within arm’s reach did she trip. On purpose.

In what could only be described as an Olympian-level act of self-preservation, Trey sidestepped so swiftly she ended up flailing through the air like a failed acrobat.

She landed directly on top of the Emperor.

The entire room froze.

The Emperor looked down at the Saintess sprawled across his lap with the bewilderment of someone who just found a raccoon in their bed. The generals were wide-eyed, clearly waiting for his reaction before deciding if they needed to draw their swords. The Pope had started sweating through his robes, clutching his staff like it was his last lifeline.

And then, like an avenging goddess, the Empress rose from her seat.

Without a single word, she grabbed the Saintess by her feathered hairpiece and hauled her up like a disobedient child. The Saintess shrieked, limbs flailing, but the Empress dragged her toward the door with a grim determination.

“OUT.”

The doors slammed shut behind them, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Trey cleared his throat, brushing off his sleeves as if nothing had happened. “Well,” he said, returning to his seat beside you. “That was… eventful.”

“Eventful?” you hissed, elbowing him. “She just dive-bombed the Emperor!”

Trey shrugged, lips twitching. “And yet here we are, still alive. I’d call that a win.”

Across the table, the Emperor straightened his robes, trying to reclaim what little dignity he had left. “Shall we… continue?” he asked, though his tone suggested he wanted nothing more than a stiff drink and a nap.

You nodded, biting your lip to suppress a laugh as the meeting resumed. Somehow, against all odds, you managed to get back to planning strategy. But you knew this story was one for the history books. Or at least for drunken retellings later.

The negotiation room was a grand affair, with gilded walls, an impossibly long table, and an air of tension so thick you could slice it with a butter knife.

The opposing kingdom’s crown princess sat across from your delegation, radiating intelligence and poise. Her every word was measured, her presence commanding, and she somehow managed to make a simple quill look like a weapon of mass destruction.

Meanwhile, your prince was... spinning in his chair.

“Wheeeee!”

You felt your soul leave your body.

“Your Highness,” Riddle hissed, his voice laced with the kind of fury only a man on the verge of a migraine could muster. “Compose yourself!”

The prince paused mid-spin, blinking like he’d just remembered where he was. “Right, right. Negotiations. Totally got this.” He picked up a quill and twirled it between his fingers like a toddler pretending to be an adult.

You buried your face in your hands, quietly mourning the future of your kingdom.

Across the table, their saint was the picture of grace, clasping their hands as though ready to bestow divine blessings upon the room. They exuded an aura of peace and righteousness that made you think, Ah, yes, this is what a saint should look like.

And then there was your saintess.

She was currently leaning against the wall, dramatically fanning herself with a peacock-feathered fan that you were pretty sure wasn’t hers. She’d arrived late, claiming she’d been “blessed by the spirits of fashion,” and was wearing a gown so covered in rhinestones that it could probably be seen from space.

You caught Trey’s eye from across the table. He looked entirely too amused, like he was moments away from bursting into laughter. You glared at him, silently begging him to take this seriously.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching upward as if to say, I’m trying.

Thankfully, the Empress had come along for damage control. She sat at the head of the table, calm and unflappable, effortlessly steering the conversation back on track whenever your prince derailed it with comments like, “So, how do you guys feel about dragons?”

When the opposing kingdom’s crown princess suggested an ambassador exchange as part of the peace treaty, the Empress visibly perked up.

“That’s an excellent idea,” she said smoothly. “In fact, we have the perfect candidate.”

You felt a sliver of hope. Maybe she’d suggest Riddle—he was intelligent, responsible, and would undoubtedly represent your kingdom well. Or Trey, whose calm demeanor and charm could win over anyone. Or—dare you dream—maybe even you, since you were clearly the only one in this circus who had a shred of common sense. And the two of you could move away from this hellhole.

“We’ll send the saintess,” the Empress announced, her voice dripping with what could only be described as malicious glee.

You blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

The crown princess on the other side of the table looked mildly alarmed. “Um,” she began, clearly searching for a polite way to decline.

“She’ll be an excellent cultural ambassador,” the Empress continued, her smile widening. “She’s... unforgettable.”

Riddle’s eye twitched, but he said nothing. Trey looked down at the table, probably to hide his grin.

The saintess, oblivious to the underlying implications, squealed in delight. “Oh my gosh, finally! I’ve always wanted to travel!”

The opposing kingdom reluctantly agreed—probably under the assumption that taking her would somehow count as reparations.

When you all finally returned home, the atmosphere was noticeably lighter, as though a glittery, rhinestone-encrusted weight had been lifted off your collective shoulders.

Trey leaned over in the carriage, his voice low and amused. “Well, I’d call that a success.”

“Success?” you laughed. “We basically tricked another kingdom into taking her off our hands.”

Trey’s smile was soft as he reached for your hand. “And we averted a war in the process.”

You sighed, but your heart skipped a beat when his thumb brushed against your knuckles. Maybe you could live with this version of “success.”

Without the saintess egging him on, the prince had downgraded from menace to society to mildly annoying NPC. He still popped up every now and then, offering unsolicited advice on topics he clearly didn’t understand, but Riddle—bless his overworked soul—had finally had enough. As royal advisor, he slapped the prince with permanent probation, effectively keeping him confined to paperwork and far, far away from you and Trey.

Life, for once, was peaceful.

So peaceful, in fact, that you and Trey found yourselves back at that restaurant—the same one that had become the backdrop for two very traumatic encounters. It felt like tempting fate, but Trey, ever the optimist, assured you that lightning wouldn’t strike thrice.

And for once, he was right.

The food was good, the atmosphere was cozy, and not a single insufferable royal barged in to ruin the evening. You both laughed, reminisced, and indulged in desserts that Trey—being the baking connoisseur he was—had plenty of opinions about.

By the time you left the restaurant, the streets were quiet, bathed in the soft glow of lanterns. The air was crisp but not cold, and everything felt oddly serene, like the universe was apologizing for all the nonsense it had previously thrown your way.

As you walked side by side, Trey suddenly stopped.

You turned to face him, confused. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he knelt down on one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket.

Your brain short-circuited.

“Trey—”

“Before you say anything,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with emotion, “I just want you to know that despite how things started between us... I’ve never regretted a single moment with you.” He looked up at you, his green eyes warm and sincere. “You’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be, and if you’ll let me, I want to spend the rest of my life making you just as happy.”

He opened the box, revealing a ring—simple, elegant, and undeniably perfect. “So... will you marry me? Again?”

You stared at him, your chest tight with emotions you couldn’t even begin to untangle. And then you laughed—because how else were you supposed to process the sheer ridiculousness of everything that had led to this moment?

“Yes,” you said, your voice trembling with joy. “Of course, yes.”

He stood, sliding the ring onto your finger with a smile that could have melted glaciers.

And then he kissed you—soft, slow, and so full of love that it felt like the world around you ceased to exist.

Somewhere in the distance, you thought you heard a cat knock over a trash can, but nothing could ruin this moment.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

your husband, i mean ex-husband

you knew perfectly well this wouldn’t end well. who would ever think a failed relationship could work again? bringing back the past only brought more anger and pain. your ex-husband was a prime example of this.

naoya zenin was definitely a fucking bastard.

controlling, angry at everything, and the embodiment of neglect—your ex-husband had thankfully been out of your life for five whole months.

so why the fuck was he between your legs right now, busy devouring your pussy?

“na-naoya fuck, please stop…” you barely managed to voice your protest through the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing. you didn’t really want him to stop, but this needed to end before things got even messier.

naoya paused the frantic and sloppy movements of his tongue on your clit, lifting his head from your pussy with a look that screamed, are you serious right now?

“do you my cock want then?”

fuck. things were definitely going to get messier.

“no, no, just… stop, please.”

your ex-husband sat back between your legs, clearly annoyed, and let his gaze travel over your entire body, starting from your face. his expression was unreadable, but you knew him well enough to recognize the gears turning in his head. those weren’t the eyes of someone who planned to reward you—they were eyes ready to punish.

“naoya, don’t even—” you started, but before you could finish, he suddenly flipped you onto your side. before you could even react, he had your right leg over his shoulder, positioning himself between your thighs.

he definitely wasn’t going to fuck you romantically in a goddamn spooning position.

“you know,” he started, holding your thigh effortlessly in one hand as he stroked his cock with the other, “i was planning to spend the whole night worshiping your pussy until you lost count of how many times you came. then, i was going to slide inside you, fill up every inch of that tight little pussy, and pump you so full of my cum that you wouldn’t leave this bed without being pregnant.” he tilted his head, an infuriating smirk on his face. “but, as usual, you had to ruin my surprise with your stupid thoughts.”

you tried to push him away with your right foot, but he had you trapped. your other leg was pinned under his body, leaving you helpless. there was no getting out of this unless he wanted to let you go—and you both knew he didn’t.

“you bastard, i swear—AHH!” your scream tore through the room as his thick cock entered you, stretching you wide.

“fuck… i’ve missed my wife’s pussy so much,” he groaned, his grip on your thigh tightening as he felt your walls clench around him. you could feel his body trembling with pleasure against yours.

goddammit, you had missed this. you’d missed how his cock, thick and veiny, filled you up perfectly, molding to your walls as if it were made just for you. the only thing you and naoya had ever been good at together was sex. in that area, you’d never lost a single battle.

he was merciless, pounding into you with brutal precision, his cock slamming into your dripping core over and over again. he was relentless, driven by the desire to feel all of your heat and wetness wrapped around him.

“hah, got nothing to say? you, who never shuts up... can't seem to open that damn mouth of yours now, huh?”

“fuck you, na-naoya,” you spat, your face buried in the pillow. everything was too much—the sensations, the pace, the depth. even if you wanted to reply, you couldn’t.

“listen to this.” he went silent for a moment, letting the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin fill the air. “listen to the dirty, filthy sounds of your little slutty pussy begging for my cock. ngh—it’s clenching around me so tight, like it doesn’t want me to leave.”

it never wanted him to leave. there wasn’t a single day you didn’t want him. no one else could satisfy your pussy the way he could—whether it was his tongue, his fingers, or his cock.

“so-deep… you’re so deep,” you finally lifted your head, looking at him with tear-filled eyes from being pounded by his cock.

“of course i’m deep. it’s my wife’s pussy—”

“ex-wife,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “your ex-wife…”

“FUCK NO!” his voice rose in anger as he slapped your ass three times in quick succession, forcing a scream from your lips. “you are my wife. i don’t give a fuck about legal bullshit. do you understand me?” another harsh slap landed on your ass. “DO YOU?”

“oh my god, yes—YES, I UNDERSTAND!” you shouted through the mix of pain and pleasure.

“good. now, repeat it.” he pressed a wet kiss to your ankle. “i am naoya zenin's wife. say it, my love,” his lips found your ankle again, his tongue teasing the skin there while his slick cock plunged into your tight, sticky walls.

“i’m… i’m your wife, naoya,” you admitted, your voice shaking but certain.

“i-i..” fuck, you really wanted to say it. you wanted to scream to the whole world that you were his wife, the only lady of the zenin clan. but nothing was the same anymore. at least not for you—though, judging by your husband, no, your ex-husband, everything was exactly as it used to be.

“yes, you?...” his kisses trailed higher up your leg, his possessive eyes locking onto yours. “look at me.”

his commanding tone made you obey instantly. “i’m your wife, naoya.”

he growled as you admitted you belonged to him. his lips pressed kisses along the skin of your leg before suddenly biting down on a spot. it was as if he wanted to brand you, to make sure everyone knew you were his, sucking and tugging at your skin with his teeth. “that’s fucking right. you’re mine.” he didn’t stop moving inside you, his cock still pounding and filling you completely. “you’re a fucking zenin. the woman at the head of the clan. MY wife. fuck—mine.”

his head fell back, and his thrusts slowed as he got closer to his release. but still, every slow thrust hit your g-spot with perfect precision. the blunt tip of his cock you loved so much, the one that drove you crazy, was stroking it so perfectly that you never wanted this moment to end.

“you’re going to take my cum like a good wife, aren’t you? you’re going to carry my children—fuck, my children…”

“please, fill me up, please.” you were begging now, desperate for him, for this. no matter how toxic he was, no matter how fucked up everything had become, you wanted to bear his children more than anything.

“i will, baby. ngh—shit, shit, shit…” his hand squeezed your thigh as he resumed pounding into you with full force. his cock pulsed inside you, and you felt the rush of his cum filling you up, flooding your womb until it spilled out.

“oh my god, naoya, i hate you—I fucking hate you,” after shouting your hatred at your ex-husband, a deep, masculine groan escaped him. he’d cum inside you countless times before, but you couldn’t ever remember him cumming this much.

as his cock softened slightly, you thought he’d let you go, but instead, he flipped you onto your stomach and pinned your arms behind your back with one hand. his free hand came down hard on your ass, making you yelp.

your other leg was still hooked over his shoulder, but his dripping cum was already sliding out of your pussy and trailing down toward your ass. naoya finally let your leg go, and just as you thought you’d be turning to face his sweat-slicked body, he flipped you onto your stomach instead. pinning your hands behind your back with his left hand, he delivered a sharp slap to your ass. “ass up. i’m not done yet. i need to fuck you again to make sure none of my cum goes to waste.”

without a hint of hesitation, you lifted your hips, offering yourself to him. with your face buried somewhere between the pillow and the sheets, he used his free hand to spread your ass cheeks wide. his cum, still inside you, began to drip out, making a soft, lewd drip-drip sound as it landed on the sheets below. “what a fucking waste, letting it drip onto the bed,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with mock disappointment. “guess i’ll have to punish you for that. but first…” he leaned in close, his face just inches from your ass, and ran his tongue from your soaked pussy all the way up to your tight little asshole. when he stopped there, his warm breath fanned over your sensitive skin, making you shiver. he pressed his face close to your dripping folds, running his tongue from your pussy all the way up to your tight little asshole, where he paused, letting his warm breath tease you. “i want to taste this. you lose your fucking mind whenever i eat this tight little hole, don’t you? if you get pregnant tonight, maybe next time, i’ll do more and fuck this tight, fucking sinful hole of yours too.”

“i-i promise, naoya.”

“what do you promise?” his breath tickled your sensitive skin before his tongue gave your hole a short, teasing lick.

“ugh—to carry your child. i promise to carry your child.”

“that’s the right answer, mrs. zenin.” he wasted no time and dove in, licking and devouring your favorite spot with relentless enthusiasm.

that night, you learned with absolute clarity that there was no escaping from this man. whether you gave him the clan’s new heir or not, whether you fled to the other side of the world to escape him, naoya zenin would never abandon the lady of the his clan.

a little note: this might be one of the first things i've written. it was a bit different originally, but after rereading it, i didn’t like it, so i rewrote it. also, a huge thank you to @sugurus-thoughts for encouraging me to post this :)

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[k1mbe3rly]

Could you do something with sub namgyu maybe? Like he gets forced into submission

yess🥵🥵 LMFAOO sorry i was crashing out for hours but im back in mind 🙄 out of sight out of mind 😈

Desperate

warnings: smut, sub!namgyu x fem!dom reader, begging, slight leg humping (out of squid games)

Nam-gyu just came home from his job as a club promoter, he sighed as he looked over seeing you on the couch on your phone, he’s guessing you also just came home from work which you did, despising your wrinkled white button up t shirt untucked from your knee above skirt

He went up from behind the couch and looking over your shoulder, “Hey i’m home” he said whispering in your ear, you weren’t really in the mood since you had a bad day at work so you kinda brushed him off and just nodded, he looked over at you in confusion

He hummed as he moved your hair the other side of your side and nuzzled his face in your neck inhaling your scent, he smirked softly as he begin kissing your neck, “Can you stop? i’m not really in the mood..” you said as you sighed, “Than i’ll turn your frown..upside down” he said chuckling at his own joke and kept kissing your neck slightly sucking on it

“I’m serious Nam-gyu.. not today okay? maybe tomorrow” you said trying to move away but he placed his hands on your shoulder, “Come on..it’ll be fun. I promise baby” he said licking your neck a bit, you groaned and shoved his face away as he whined out and went around the couch and sitting next to you, “What? what’s wrong huh? your usually so needy” he said looking at you, you crossed your arms and looked at him

“Okay well not today, i had a bad day at work.” you said lazily. He hummed a simple understanding, “I can.. change that” he said quietly a bit, you raised your eyebrow and smirked softly “and how are you gonna do that huh?” you said sitting up a bit, “Let me do my job, you’ll be satisfied..” he said slowly getting on his knees infront of you.

He slowly opened your legs and traveled his hands to the edge of your skirt, you quickly gripped on his wrist with a serious expression, “You really don’t know when to stop huh. i told you i wasn’t in the mood didn’t i?” you said still gripping his wrist, he winced slightly “Baby- chill! i’m sorry.” he said scrunching his eyebrows a bit, “Show me your sorry.” you said releasing his wrist as he got up, he smirked a bit

He unbuckled his pants getting rid of his belt and unbuttoning his pants, before pulling them down he grabbed both your legs spreading them and again putting his hands in your skirt, you quickly stopped him again “No. your not gonna fuck me, find another way.. or beg for it.” you said closing your legs, he looked at you with a confused face “Seriously? but that’s not even my place!” he said, “excuse me? either that or you get nothing” you said back, he scoffed “I’m not begging! you know how.. dumb I’ll look!?” he said, “fine by me, i’m not the one trying to have sex” you said shrugging and going back to your phone. He sighed and sat down.

It didn’t take long for him to give in or whatever, so that’s how he ended up on the floor, whining for you, and humping your leg without any pants on, he moved his hips against your leg, his clothed cock rubbing against you. “Please..? i’m sorry okay? can i please just fuck you?” he said still keeping his movements against you, you faked a yawned “boring..babe i don’t know..im getting kinda sleepy..” you said, he whined out again a almost cry and choked out whine “Baby please! i need you! please!! i’ll do all the work i swear! i just need to be inside you!” he said clinging on to your leg, he quickly moved off your leg, picking up one leg and kissing down to your heels.

He slowly took off your heel, kissing your foot a bit (bare with me 😢🙏), and he kissed back up, he went your other leg doing the exact same and placing your heels somewhere else, he than looked up at you “Please? its the most you can do..” he said, “The most i can do?” you questioned. “not like that! baby please! please im begging like you said!” he said whining, “fine..you can only eat me out, than i’ll see how i feel after.” you said ruffling his hair that became a bit messy, he quickly lifted your skirt high enough and slid your panties off

he smiled up at you “Thank you..” he whispered as he spread your legs and quickly put his head between giving your clit a kiss, and slowly sucked on it, you let out a moan as he kept sucking on your clit, he said licked on it, be moved his tongue around and inside, you moaned out shutting your eyes putting your legs on his shoulders, he held onto your thighs as he continued eating you out, you kept moaning and gasping as your hands went to his hair, gripping and tugging on his hair, he let out a low growl and kept e shoving his tongue and managed suck a bit on your clit, he than rubbed your clit with his thumb, soft slurping sounds and moans filled the room as you finally cummed inside his mouth as he swallowed, he cleaned your cunt with his tongue and finally backed up gasping. “Holy fuck baby.. you taste so good” he said looking up and wiping his mouth a bit, you were a bit dumb founded.

“mm-…” you mumbled out, not long after you were riding him on the couch, your hands on his shoulders moaning as nam-gyu moaned, honestly first time hearing him moan was magical, so adorable and it turned you on even more, he gripped on your hips letting out choked gasps and moans, “a-agh~ fuckk baby..s-so tight!!” he moaned out, you moaned out as you begin bouncing on him your tits bouncing inside your button up shirt, he slowly traveled his hands to the buttons and begin unbuttoning them and pulled down your bra and gripped on your tits, he kept moaning out and leaned in whining and moaning into your neck, “Mm! m’gonna cum baby! can i? can i cum inside you baby please!” he panted out as he played with your tits a bit, i felt his cock twitch inside me “Yea- fuck~ cum with me baby! cum inside me” you said as you bounced a tad bit faster, “augh~!! mm- m’cummingggfhh~!” he basically yelled out as he cummed inside you and quickly after you did as well, you slowed down panting as his cum and yours mixed together.

after you both calmed down you slowly lifted your self and went to the side panting as juices and cum leaked out a bit..”are you okay..?” he said to you as you nodded, yall eventually cleaned up and cuddled to sleep.

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 28

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27

1.4k words

A much calmer Zen has a lot to unload.

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

--------

Zen’s fluffy, shaggy hair tickled your nose as he stirred a bit and woke you. In the nearly two months you had been together you could not recall a single time when he slept in, seeing him still in bed was quite a surprise.

You kissed the top of his head and immediately felt him nuzzle against you, though you were not really sure if he was actually awake or if it was a subconscious reaction. His breathing was deep and even, and he seemed much calmer at least.

“Are you awake?” you whispered.

He nodded, apparently still not feeling quite up to speaking.

“Are you alright?”

Again he just nodded.

“Everything is alright my dear, I promise” you scratched the side of his head where his hair was cropped short, the only spot where you really could get through his dense hair to scratch his scalp.

“I ruined everything” his voice was so quiet as he spoke.

“No, no. You didn’t ruin anything Zen.”

“I hurt you the first time yesterday, then I went and did that.”

“And it’s ok, things happen, but you didn’t ruin anything.”

He stayed quiet and did not acknowledge you.

“I’m not mad or upset or anything” you tried to assure him, “I’m just worried about you, I just want you to be alright,”

“I am upset at myself.”

“I know” you kissed the top of his head again, “and we’ll figure it out together, I promise.”

That seemed to at least somewhat satisfy him, he gave another little nuzzle against you and you swore for just a moment that you heard him purr.

“How about I make us some breakfast? You’ve got to be starving by now, you never sleep this late” you offered.

“You are not good at cooking.”

“Then come sit with me and tell me what to do and keep me company.”

He nodded and shimmed off of you so you could get up.

Zen stuck at your side as you sat at the hearth, a blanket still wrapped around himself and his chin resting on your shoulder while he watched you closely. With a little guidance you were able to make a serviceable enough breakfast for the two of you.

It was a bit smothering how Zen chose to sit behind and a bit to your side so he could lean his chin on your shoulder. He decided to eat breakfast like that too, his arms wrapped around you as he reached for things, restricting how much you could move but you did not have the heart to try to get him to just sit next to you instead.

“It should not be like this” you heard him say softly.

“I know, but this is where we are, and we can go back to taking things slowly” you leaned against him and nuzzled him a bit, “and if it makes you feel any better, you felt incredible last night. But I can wait while we figure things out.”

He buried his face against your neck as best he could with his tusks getting in the way. It was faint, but you could hear his soft purring for just a moment.

“I am just so tired of waiting. I waited for so long for this war to end so I could just go home. And now instead I am here, where I barely get to speak my own tongue, my festivals are not celebrated here. I fought so one day I could go home, and I still cannot. And now I do not want to wait more to have you.”

It never occurred to you that Zen might be homesick. You knew he was not from the city, but he usually seemed happy. He knew so many people, always stopping to smile and chat with when the two of you were out, he knew his way around the city well, everything always seemed fine anyways.

“Have you gone back to visit recently?” you asked.

“Not since the end of the war. I went home to see everyone, and then almost immediately got summoned here and offered the position.”

Six months then you figured at least since he had been home. Six months since Zen had started living somewhere where everything was new and different, where he did not have his family, where he could almost never speak his own language. The irony that neither of you were home here was not lost on you.

“Why not go visit?” you asked.

“I do not have the time. There is just to much to do here” he said.

“Even just for a week or so?”

“We are rebuilding after a war. It is a puzzle of constantly changing and moving pieces trying to figure out what is needed and where.”

“And no one on the council ever takes time away?”

“Some do.”

“So why don’t you?”

He stayed quiet, his face still buried against neck.

“We can go visit together, if you want” you said.

“Maybe.”

‘Maybe’ was better than ‘no’ at least you figured. Though it felt odd that for someone who seemed to be homesick to also be so resistant to visiting home.

“I haven’t met any of your family, well except Bira. I think it would be nice if we went and visited.”

“I did not tell my family I got married.”

You pulled away from him just enough to look him in the eye, “What?”

“It was decided pretty fast, and at the time it did not seem like a big deal, so I did not say anything.”

“Zen! We’ve been married for almost two months! What do you mean you never actually told your family? When you found out you were getting married you didn’t send them a letter or anything?!” you could not believe what he was saying.

“I was told I was getting married in a month’s time, but at the time I did not consider it real. It was just another thing I had to do. It did not seem worth making a big deal of and getting my family involved.”

You really were not surprised that it was not something he made a fuss over, he already had told you that arranged marriages were not a thing here, it was just another duty to him on par with anything else really. But it did surprise you that months after he still had not told his family.

“So they really don’t know?” you asked.

“No, just Ba and Bira, and I asked them not say anything.”

“And you’re sure they haven’t said anything?”

“If my mother knew I was married and she was not here for the wedding she would have made the trip here to yell at me in person by now. I would never hear the end of it.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to somehow never tell your family that you’re married?” you snapped a bit at him.

“No! No” he tried to press his forehead to yours, frantically tugging at you so he could face you and reach you. “I just do not know what to do now.”

“Tell your family” you answered him flatly.

“I know, but now I do not know how to do that now. I do not want to just show up and surprise them, ‘Hi mother, I have not seen you in months. By the way this is my wife, we have been married for two months and I never told you’ because that will go well.”

“Why not send a letter? Just explain the same thing you told me” you suggested. His family would probably still be annoyed, but at least it would help smooth things over.

“It is not easy to send a letter that far” he protested.

“So you would rather just show up and surprise them?”

“No.”

“Then send a letter.”

He sighed and nuzzled his forehead against yours, “I will send a letter.”

“And perhaps we’ll visit for the next festival?”

“Maybe.”

“You can’t avoid your family forever.”

“Not forever, just long enough to not be yelled at too much.”

“Zen” you pushed back.

“We will go for the next festival” he finally conceded.

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Tag list

@blushycadaver @mochalyluv @hazyspacefairy @littlelovebug98 @tufflepuff23 @lets-imagineastory @emonatural191 @after-laughter-come-tears @plathsotherib @krayziee @zaqnette @graveblanketgreen @lovingbadguys @nogoatsnoglori @bunnibabylilly

[hwaslayer]

the space between us three (jyh) | four.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

⇢word count: 4.5k

⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/ sexually implied content, sorry more of a filler chapter cause i need to build this up lol 😅 but more oc x yunho!!, taehyun & jihoon tryna play cupid, well ok i guess everyone is at this point lmao, seora and yunho have a lil heart to heart

Monday comes a lot quicker than expected, but you're glad the weekend was better than you thought it'd turn out. Running errands and spending the day with your parents was actually a lot calmer this time around— no bickering or arguing unnecessarily, mom wasn't picking at things or pointing out specific details just to work your last nerve.

It was good. It did make you feel bad for not being better about spending more time with them, though.

But, that's why you vowed to work on it with your brother and you knew you both were serious about making it happen. Better late than never, and you and Wonwoo could admit to your faults. 

That's progress and a way forward, right?

Anyway, the agenda went as promised with your family— you ended up at the grocery store for about an hour before driving down to the pharmacy and different furniture stores until you and your parents settled on a new, good quality couch they were satisfied with. When you had gotten back to the house that afternoon, mom sent you away with towers of food and Yunho hadn't gotten back home yet.

Couldn't help but wonder what his typical weekend was like with his daughter. Was that weird? He seems so laidback [despite his dad tone coming out on Saturday before leaving], it just makes you wonder what him and his daughter do to fill their downtime together.

Must be cute.

When you got back home that afternoon, you had tidied up your place and showered off the early day's activities before preparing a charcuterie board, wine and other finger foods for Noeul and Sian's arrival. It was a much needed sleepover since it had been awhile since the last one— the three of you getting caught up with work and being too exhausted to meet outside of it. You and the girls talked about everything and anything; from new updates on old friends from college and highschool and analyzing every detail of their recent photos on IG, to love, dating and all the juicy one-nights, to what's been on the grocery list lately and then finally, openly exploring the topic of sex toys and all that glory.

Very, very much needed.

In fact, sleeping in the next day and getting breakfast with Noeul and Sian at the cute café nearby was the cherry on top. You finally got to taste that thick, milk bread with coconut-pandan jam sprinkled with tiny bits of sea salt.

Your weekend was better than expected.

For Yunho, it was a bit chaotic; filled with an impromptu sleepover with 11-going-on-12-year old girls screaming and singing at the top of their lungs after a long day of shopping and eating out. They all plopped onto the large air mattress Yunho set up in the middle of the living room, their voices slowly dying down as the hours went on. They didn't fall asleep until a bit past midnight, which is when Yunho decided to finally shut off his TV and get some shut-eye himself.

Then, the morning came and it was chaos all over again. 

He overheard the girls talking and giggling until Seora gently knocked and walked into her dad's room to wake him up. His eyes fluttered open, his daughter sitting on the edge of his bed poking at his cheek. He sleepily chuckled and sat up, ruffling her hair messily while she asked if he could take them to a specific breakfast spot deep into the city. 

A spot that has thick, milk bread with coconut-pandan jam sprinkled with tiny bits of sea salt and other unique delicacies. 

Even though he's exhausted, he gets up and gets ready anyway. Not only because of Seora, but because he can finally get a taste of that fig sesame and honey danish and grab a bag of those milk bread dinner rolls for him and Seora to indulge in.

It's too bad he had just missed you leaving the same spot. 

Monday mornings are usually a drag, especially coming from a much-needed, good, relaxing weekend. But today, you're powered up on coffee and making sure you have your things [and yourself] ready for your meeting with Yunho. You're not sure why you're nervous; perhaps, it goes back to you feeling lost and confused about different aspects of this project. You don't know much about the IT and clinical informatics side, and you don't wanna come off as dumb, clueless.

Especially in front of him.

You're just hoping for the best, and you've sat yourself in the booked conference room to go through old emails, old messages, to get yourself up to speed. You do remember being looped into certain threads, but not paying any attention to it because it didn't particularly concern you at the time— which, is a good thing you did because you definitely would not have known there were specifics about the ordering system that the higher-ups had already asked for and that they were already working on the build. You can ask Yunho where things are at from that point.

That’ll be a good start.

As you continue to busily type away for other aspects of the project and personal tasks, you almost miss the figure that passes by and walks into the room.

"Woah, you're here early. Why?" Your eyes slightly widen at Yunho's tall figure strolling in with a cup or coffee in his hand.

"Because I wanted to be early, but apparently you're earlier." He smirks, plopping down next to you. "Working hard already? Goodmorning, by the way.”

"Sorry, goodmorning.” You scrunch your nose a bit, embarrassed at how you greeted him. “I just.. don't wanna sound dumb in front of you so I've been getting all my notes together." He chuckles.

"Never? No question or thought is dumb, Y/N. I don't expect you to know everything about our team. It's complicated."

"Still, I wanna be prepared."

"You are." He reassures you and it instantly comforts you.

"Are you gonna sit there?" He looks at you with a brow cocked up.

"Yeah, why? Do you want me to sit across from you?"

"No, I'm just asking since it's us two. I wasn't sure if you'd be comfortable that way." You chuckle.

"Oh, sorry. I hope you don't mind. I invited Taehyun and Jihoon from my team. I thought they could come to meetings in case I'm not around for whatever reason." He shrugs. "Plus, it just helps me to have extra heads involved in case I needa delegate."

"Makes sense, I don't mind. The more the merrier."

"Is it okay to still sit here?" He smiles and you nod.

"Sure." You laugh. There's a small silence that falls between the two of you while you both type away, along with Yunho's Slack notifications going off. But, none of it feels uncomfortable.

"So, how was your weekend with your parents?"

"Good! I just tagged along and ran errands with them. Picked up some meds, groceries. They finally got a new couch for the living room, too."

"Your mom has been talking about getting a new couch for awhile."

"She's definitely happy now." You look at him. "You know, I.. did not know you were the neighbor my mom had been talking about."

"Good things, I hope?"

"Oh yeah, my parents love you and your daughter." You look at him.

"They're great. They take care of us a lot, and I appreciate it. Especially on days when I can't be home right away. Your mom looks after my little-but-not-so-little one." You give him a tiny smile. "I— how come you don't swing by often? If you don't mind me asking."

"Just busy, honestly. My brother, too. He's younger. We get caught up with work and plans."

"Your parents talk about you two a lot. They adore you both and they always hope you'll come by more often."

"I know." You look down at your laptop. "We just suck at slipping in time for them, I'm gonna admit. And it's just.." You pause, not wanting to dump your life story and feelings on Yunho on a Monday morning. He looks at you with a hint of concern in his eyes, but you brush it off. "Anyway, we're trying. We know we needa do better." He smiles a bit. "My brother and I have talked about it and have come up with a plan so that we're slotting in time for them."

"That's all that matters. Are you and your brother close?"

"Very, yes. If you're around next weekend, you might get to meet him because we'll be swinging by together."

"Hm." Yunho hums. "My daughter has a basketball game and it's about an hour out. We might be gone by then, but if you and your brother are around when we get back, I'll gladly stop by to say hi."

"Sounds good. How was your weekend?" You ask and Yunho lets out a small chuckle at the way you try to fill in the silence while waiting for Taehyun and Jihoon.

"Busy. I, uh, hung out with a friend on Friday." He clears his throat. "Then took my daughter and her friends out on Saturday. When I saw you.. that's where we were going."

"Aw cute. Where did you guys go?"

"Well, I picked up one of my bestfriends and we took them to the Samsung Star Mall."

"That's a big mall. Sounds like you were there all day."

"Damn near, yeah. Then, grabbed some takeout, let the girls pick up their things from their homes and headed back to the house. They were yelling and singing like crazy after dinner." You laugh.

"That's very cute." He does a slight head tilt.

"Anything for my daughter." His eyes are glued onto his screen.

"What's her name?"

"Seora."

"That's a beautiful name." He gives you a small toothless smile.

"It is, isn't it?" You nod.

"What'd you do on Sunday? I assume you were able to sleep in since the girls must've been tired."

"Kinda, but Seora ended up waking me and asking if I could bring them to a café for breakfast. They were so excited about it."

"Which?"

"We went to Morning Toast." You gasp and look at him.

"That morning? What time?"

"Like 11?"

"I had literally just left right before it hit 11!"

"Really? That's too bad. It would've been nice to see you." He chuckles a bit, and it makes the heat rise to your cheeks. "Though, I had temporarily adopted like, 2 extra daughters so it was a little crazy. I might've looked a little out of it." He thinks for a minute. "Maybe it was best you didn't see me at that moment." 

"What do you mean? I'm sure it would've been fine if we did run into each other. I'm positive you probably didn't even look that way."

"How could you be so sure, hm?" He teases lightly before chuckling. "I've had pre-teens singing at the top of their lungs at the house and in the car all weekend. Pretty sure your parents probably heard them next door." You laugh.

"Sounds like your house is the place to be. Maybe I'll have to inquire about a quote for hosting my birthday there." 

"I just need about 3 months advance notice." You look at him and shake your head, giggling. At this point, his team lead, Taehyun, walks in with a smile on his face though it's obvious he's a bit stressed and has been running around.

"Hi! Sorry! Was caught up with a ticket." He rushes in, slightly out of breath and frazzled. Behind him is another team member that you haven't met yet. He meets your eyes and gives you a tiny bow with a small smile, slipping into the seat next to Taehyun in front of you.

"Hey, I'm Jihoon." He sits. "Sorry I couldn't make it to the meeting last week. Was tied up with some urgent issues."

"Oh, no worries! It's nice to meet you. I'm Y/N. I'm one of the project managers, mainly supporting the pediatrics unit."

"Good to meet you, too." Jihoon smiles. "It's nice to get some communication from the peds side."

"Yeah, I feel the same." You chuckle. "So, I saw that the build was already in the process." They all nod.

"It sure is. But, I thought it'd be good to give you a brief introduction to both of the IT and clinical informatics team just so you know how we interact." Yunho connects his laptop to the TV, causing you to turn your attention towards the screen. "Is that okay?"

"No, please. I'd love that. Take the floor." He smiles before running his finger down his bottom lip and beginning his presentation. He starts off by re-introducing the three of them before going through the names of his other direct reports. The next bits of his presentation explaining the core tasks his team is responsible for and the differences with the clinical informatics team. He goes through the key people in that team and you find yourself typing away while glancing at the screen every now and then. You find his explanation incredibly detailed but simple enough for you to understand. It's super helpful, and you feel like you've definitely learned a lot from the meeting alone. This was the one area you weren't entirely familiar with, and it was nice that the three were open to answering your questions and clarifying anything that might've seemed confusing. You also learned that they've gotten a good amount of the planning and groundwork done for the main hospital unit. Now, they can focus a lot of their efforts towards the pediatric unit.

At the end of the meeting, Yunho gives you the floor to ask any more questions. You take the opportunity to clarify last minute things that come up before you're satisfied enough to finish up.

"So, let's plan on meeting with the full group next week. Then from there on, biweekly meetings? I'm sure the group won't be opposed unless there's absolutely no updates to provide in that time frame. We can always cancel if needed."

"Good with me, boss lady." Yunho says, giving you a small smile.

"Not even." You chuckle, typing up the last of your notes. "I'm just trying to coordinate and make sure things run smoothly."

"Which is a shit ton since you're overseeing the entire project." Jihoon laughs.

"Yeah. You're spearheading the whole thing and without you, it'd probably be a mess." Taehyun chuckles a bit. "We don't really communicate with the pediatric hospital much, so it's nice to have a bridge." You nod.

"I agree."

"Definitely boss lady if you ask me." Yunho looks at you, causing you to shy away for a moment. 

"Maybe you and I can set up weekly meetings to update each other?" You look at Yunho, then Taehyun and Jihoon. "Or Taehyun, Jihoon—"

"Yunho is probably the best. He's everywhere. He knows everything." Taehyun chimes in quick. At first, Jihoon and Yunho are confused even though, it's definitely the right answer and they'll always defer to their manager in these situations— not because they don't think they can handle it or relay the proper information, but because it just makes them feel more comfortable doing so. Jihoon cocks a brow up before Taehyun meets his gaze and gives him a look that tells him he should play along and go with it.

"O-Oh, right. I agree." Jihoon stumbles on his words a bit before returning his full attention to you. "Yunho can answer all your questions without issue."

"Yeeeeah." Yunho says, slightly furrowing his brows at them before looking down at you. "Let's just keep it between us? If I really can't make it, I'll just email you with some notes or something."

"Okay." You chuckle, making a note to coordinate calendars with Yunho later and set a reoccurring invite. "I'll message you later about some good days and times. See if we have any matches."

"Cool."

"Well, thanks guys!" You smile at them brightly. "I really appreciate your time and for thoroughly walking me through everything."

"Of course." They all say in their own way as you shut your laptop and stand.

"We're gonna debrief in here for the remaining minutes before the next meeting comes in." You nod.

"See you next week? Feel free to email or slack me if anything comes up."

"You too." You wave at them before walking out of the room and shutting the door, finally feeling like you can breathe comfortably again. You speed off to your desk once you’re out of view, hoping to see Noeul and Sian at some point to talk about the meeting.

Meanwhile, Yunho watches as you leave— his eyes trailing your figure until you're no longer in view down the hallway, and Jihoon is snorting while typing away.

“Debrief time!” Taehyun says.

"Soooo." He finally breaks the silence post-laugh in a sing-song tone. "How'd your thing with Ara go?"

"Uh." Yunho laughs a bit and they both look at him confused. "No, it was fine. It's just.. I don't know? I don't think I feel anything for her to be quite honest."

"Well, first of all. What do you mean you don't know? What did you guys end up doing? How did we get to this point?" Taehyun asks, making Yunho do another head tilt.

"Tough crowd. Too many technical questions." They laugh. "We just had ramen at the new restaurant and then we hung out at her place." They both pause and look over their screens to meet his eyes.

"What happened to 'we're just gonna do a harmless dinner and call it a night?'"

"For the most part, it was."

"What about the other part that wasn't?"

"We ended up making out and then.. I stopped it." Yunho says calmly, which is confusing Taehyun and Jihoon.

"Oh shit." Jihoon looks at Yunho with an amused expression. "What?! You didn't feel anything for her?"

"I— no, not really."

"Damn." Jihoon ticks his head to the side.

"What'd she say when you stopped it?"

"She understood where I was coming from, I think? I tried to lay it down gently and I told her I didn't wanna do that to her. I thought we were good as friends, and she deserves someone that is sure of their feelings."

"That's good."

"Yeah. Well. I hope so? I hope it didn't ruin our friendship."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. She might need some space for a bit, but I'm sure it'll be okay. I know she appreciated it."

"Yeah." Yunho looks at them. "Anyway, back to the main discussion.” He laughs a bit. “I think we have our work cut out for us. We should continue to stay on top of those tickets and try not to let them pile up, but we should also prioritize securing the network for this unit. Making sure there's no roadblocks. I'll keep up with the clinical informatics team to keep mapping out the ordering system." The two ahead of him nod simultaneously. "Feel free to delegate things on your plate to other team members if you don't have the capacity to take them on right now."

"Got it, boss." Jihoon adds.

"You know, if I may say so." Jihoon and Yunho look at him, confused. "Y/N's pretty." Taehyun smirks.

“Oh, here he goes.”

"She's also really nice." Jihoon laughs, knowing exactly where this is going. "Seems like you two get along easily."

"I didn't know our team doubled up as a matchmaking service."

"Only for you." Jihoon snorts at Taehyun's remark.

"So, that's what the whole thing was about."

"What whole thing?" Taehyun acts dumb.

"Having her set up those meetings with me only. Even though the both of you have covered in the past.”

"I mean, it's only right." Taehyun smiles. "Besides, you can learn a lot about each other, too."

"Uh huh." Yunho looks at them before shutting his laptop. "We'll see how it goes."

"You agree though, right?"

"About what?"

"About Y/N?" Taehyun and Jihoon follow Yunho's lead as he stands and stretches, grabbing his laptop to prepare heading out back to their office.

"And if I say yes?"

"Then remember to thank me in the end when it all works out." Yunho laughs.

"Can't get anything past you two either, I see."

"Did Seora know about the date?"

"No, but I also think she has inkling because Hwa's dumbass let it slip." They laugh. "I called it a team dinner and he somehow let 'date' slip at some point during his stay with her."

"Ah, but I'm sure she'd be fine with it."

"I don't know. She's hard to read. We talked a bit about it this weekend but even as her dad, I can't really gauge what she means or how she feels."

⇢FLASHBACK

"Daddy." Yunho looks at Seora as they make their way home from dropping off her friends. Her voice is low, and it's obvious she's tired from her weekend but content. 

"Mhm?"

"Thank you for letting my friends spend the weekend with me."

"Course, baby girl." He chuckles. "I'm glad you had fun."

"I did." Her voice is a bit raspy from all the yelling and singing they did all weekend. "It was so much fun. And I got so many cute things this weekend."

"You're welcome." Yunho teases.

"Thank you." She laughs. "You're the best."

"Mm." He hums. "I try to be."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot." There's a pause, and Seora is fiddling with the ends of her hair.

"Nevermind." She says close to a whisper.

"Ace." He turns to her at a green light.

"I just don't know how to ask. But, it isn't anything super important anyway. Let’s forget it—”

"No. You opened the door. Remember what I said about keeping an open communication between us?"

"Mhm." She hums. "Well..” She nervously fiddles with her fingers now. “I just wanna know if Uncle Hwa was right? Did you go on a date?"

"Hm, well. I went out to dinner with a friend. That's all."

"Do you like your friend?"

"No. We're really just friends." Pause. "Besides. I know you wouldn't be happy, right?" He chuckles a bit to make it a little light-hearted joke, but there's a genuine curiosity behind his question. He hasn't talked to his daughter about this, and he's a little surprised she even brought it up. But, maybe she too, had been curious.

"I mean." She sighs. "Uncle Hwa told me to keep an open mind about it."

"He did now? But, how do you really feel, Seora?"

"Of course I’d want you to be happy. It'll just be different, though. It's always been us two and we haven't really had anyone like that around besides mom. I can’t really see it right now.”

"I know." Yunho responds quietly. 

"I want you to be happy, though. Just saying it’ll be weird if that ever happens. Might take time, I guess.” She looks at him sadly. “You won’t replace me or mom, right?”

“Never.” Yunho’s heart sinks. "When and if that time comes, I'll always prioritize you no matter what." She smiles. "Okay? None of that.”

"Okay." She giggles a bit when her dad reaches over to gently massage the top of her head. 

"Now, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you miss mom?" He asks.

"Yeah. I do. I think about her sometimes, but it's hard when I don't have many memories with her."

"I know, I'm sorry. I wish you had more time with her."

"I do, too. At least I got some time with her." Yunho nibbles on his bottom lip when he feels her response hit him in the gut. Right now, he knows he's not ready to talk more about Eunha. He knows he can't handle it. He already feels himself internally panicking, the anxiety rising. So, he pivots.

He pivots because he just can't.

"Yeah, well. We have each other now and that's all that matters. You're stuck with your dad. Sorry ‘bout it.”

"Stop it." She laughs.

"Promise me you'll keep talking to me if you ever feel sad or alone, hm? Don't ever think you can't talk to me about these things, ace."

"I know. You never make me feel that way."

"Good."

"Love you."

"Love you, too." She smiles and leans her head back against the head rest. "I have one more favor to ask before the weekend ends."

"And what's that?"

"Can we have our own little slumber party in the living room tonight?"

"As long as you promise to shut off the TV at a reasonable time since you have school tomorrow."

"Promise." She puts up her pinky. "Pinky promise." Yunho multitasks and wraps his finger around hers.

"Let's do it."

⇢END

"It'll all work out how it should, don't worry, boss. It ain't gonna be like this forever." Jihoon adds as they finally make their way back to their office area.

"Thanks. And thanks for joining the meeting today."

"All good!" Yunho gives them one last smile before slipping into his office and settling down. He has a few more meetings and other tasks to tend to in a bit, but his first priority shifts when he sees a slack notification from you. He instantly pulls up the app on his desktop after connecting his laptop to the monitor, a small smile forming on his face when he sees your message.

you: should we just do mondays at 10am to keep things simple? i mean.. totally get if you don't wanna see me bright and early on a monday, we can check other days. 😊

yunho: no, mondays at 10am are perfect.

yunho: & don't say that. 🫤 it'll be nice to see you on monday mornings. 

yunho: usually it's chaos or everyone's dead from the weekend. no in between.

yunho: you'll be the nice balance!

you: uh huh. just remember you said this, not me. 🫡 i’ll send an invite!

yunho: all good, i'll take full responsibility for it. haha. thank you!

"I'm gonna call it right now. You and Yunho are gonna get close and it'll be the start of something new." You shrug while Noeul reads the messages over your shoulder.

"I mean, whatever happens, happens. I won't be opposed to it. He's cute and super nice." You poke your bottom lip out.

"And your parents literally love him and his daughter to death already. It's a match-made in heaven."

"Well, no. I wouldn't say that." You look at Noeul. "Besides, I don't even know if he's single. Before the weekend rolled around, I saw him getting all smiley and smitten with one of the nurses at the hospital. I think they went out together."

"Ah, you never know! Just keep your options open, but definitely don't shut him out if he's dropping little hints. Get to know him more, see what he dishes out. If he's taken, then you've earned another friend and it could blossom into a great friendship. No loss there!" Noeul crosses her arms and smirks. "If not, then please make sure you enjoy yourself."

"Sometimes, I really hate when you and Sian are right. Makes me feel—"

Ding.

Your phone goes off at the corner of your desk with a new notification. You lean over to grab your phone and check, your eyes widening in the process:

yunou._.u started following you.

"Oh bitch, he is definitely single." You and Noeul quickly skim his page before you shake your head and plop your phone down.

"Stop it! You never know."

"That man barely has posts!" Noeul picks up your phone again and plugs in the code. "Look! Pics of his surroundings. His daughter. Him and his friends. That's it!"

"You're impossible."

"You are! You just won't accept the fact that an extremely hot dilf could be coming your way and I don't know why!"

"Don't say that!" You quickly look around. "Can you keep it down?!"

"I oughta smack you upside the head for that!"

"Go away, don't you have another meeting in like, 10 minutes?" Noeul looks at her phone and it's her turn to be surprised.

"Oh shit, more like 5 now. I gotta go and hop on this call." Noeul begins to rush away, but she turns back towards you again. "You better follow him back, Y/N!"

"I am! Go!" You wave her off and she turns halfway to finally head back down to her office— barely making it in 5. You look at your phone once more before giving it a few minutes, letting the notification settle before deciding enough time has passed since Yunho followed you.

You didn't wanna be too quick, right?

But, when the notification comes back on Yunho's phone saying that you've followed him back, he can't help but smile. The notification puts him in a good mood, enough for him to figure out his next plan on how to get to know you better.

He'll settle for a simple like on your latest photo. Maybe, the next one, too.

⇢taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @nopension @curse-of-art @thechaotictheoryy @likexaxdaydream @dalsuwaha @enha-stars @yasuraokaa @professormingisglasses @yunyunrin @pommelex @astral-trashcan @laura1399 @domfikeluva @tournesol155 @hwaskookies @yusalterego @hwa-stars @hyukssunflower @chngbnwf @jaytheatiny @lucid-galaxys-world @chaotic-floral @sofkloster @honeyrecommends @hwashua-luv @luvv4bby @spicxbnny @pandyandy71

[thoughtfulchaos773]

Sorry my English isn’t great but Can we have more thoughts on Syd & Carm and sex? How do you think they would both go about interacting with it and each other if we ever got a scene of them like that? (Which I don’t think we will but one can hope 😭)

Don't apologize! Fun fact- I used to write E fanfiction, but nothing for sydcarmy (yet maybe in the future)

But if we're talking cannon: it would happen in the daylight similar to the table scene. Morning after and just the beginning. There wouldn't be anxiousness from Carmy in the morning or showing Carmy's mind somewhere else. He's very present with Sydney and always aware of where she's at. She takes space in his head anyway - so sex would be all about her pleasure and strong eye contact.

You know what would be great for me? They don't even have to show explicity sex, show me the morning after Sydney has spent the night and Carmy is ready to go down on her- she's the first thing on his mind in the morning and she's in bed- with him, post sex? Yeah, he's not wasting a moment.

After all, it’s FX—it's an MA-rated show, so we already expect explicit love scenes and how they will be portrayed. Give us a good surprise! They've already shown explicit positions of certain characters, so why not illustrate how things are different this time?

Here are my thoughts on Sydney and Carmy: it's a popular belief that Sydney is the dominant one, I think Carmy actually holds a more dominant role in bed, at least at first. There’s a suggestion that in the end, Sydney will always have emotional power over him; she has his heart in her hands and ultimately calls the shots when it comes to the core of their relationship.

I think based on the show- Sydney has a praise kink, but it seems to be specific to Carmy. She pokes fun at Marcus in the show when he gives her praise. But Carmy gives her praise? She melts. So imagine Carmy giving her so much praise during sex?

Their relationship shows how Carmy pulls vulnerability out of her when he reads her. Being a dominant partner is a skill; it helps the more submissive partner switch off their racing thoughts and open up. For the submissive partner to really let go, they’ve got to trust that their dom will catch them if they fall. If the dom doesn’t support them, that’s when problems come up.

Sydney and Carmy play these roles on the show, dont they? and it's a challenge. Carmy is working on being someone Sydney can rely on to catch her when she falls, and for Sydney, she knows how scary it is to completely give in. When Carmy is confident enough, he reassures her by saying things like, “I won’t let you” showing that he’s up for the challenge and ready to give her what she needs. He's ready to care for her because she cares for so many people- so wouldn't it be nice for her for someone to take care of her? To make her happy and satisfied?

For Carmy, stepping into the dom role is great practice. He wasn't really feeling it when Claire was leading the chase; she lead the getting his number, in their private scene notice she's the one leading the questions to get to know him more, she's the one in the morning telling him "everything is fine" the morning after- Claire is the one on top of him while Carmy sits up at night.

Carmy wants to build enough confidence to take charge himself with Sydney, and after she gives over, he looks to Sydney for a bit of reassurance, asking her if she liked what happened. He’ll gently ask her to share what she enjoys and what doesn’t work for her - Carmy is the one who leads with questions.

Even if Carmy is the dominant one, Sydney won't make it easy for him. She doesn't make it easy for him anyway, and he deserves to be questioned and challenged as she does in canon.

[ohnococo]

Patience | MMA!Fighter Sukuna x Reader

You decide to try something new with Sukuna.

✧ Notes: This is technically a request, and can be read as a one shot, but it fit well with Fight Night Sukuna and reader's dynamic so this is a part of the Fight Night: Recovery series, a loose follow-up to Fight Night.

✧ Warnings: established relationship, vibrator (used on Sukuna), slight sub undertones for Sukuna, ejaculation/cumshot, in this specific part no pronouns/sex-specific body descriptors are used although in the greater series reader is fem bodied

Sukuna’s hands lazily rest against the headboard above him, untethered because with a man like him what’s the fucking point. He moves when he wants to, he stays still when he wants to as well. This moment is something he very much wants, slipped into the depths of his hedonistic whims as he turns your casual suggestion of using your vibrator on him into an instantaneous reality.

His chest is more sensitive than it has any right to be, and as he bares his teeth in a satisfied smile when you finally touch the tip of your little silicone-covered bullet to his pert nipple, you wonder if he had been biting back a bigger reaction during the many times you’d dragged your nails across them while riding him. That or maybe, for once, Ryomen Sukuna was out of his depth.

Whether he was or not, there’s certainly no hesitation on his end from taking part in whatever might bring him, or you, satisfaction. That satisfaction is written all over him: goosebumps covering the large expanse of his naked body, toes pointing with a surprising flexibility, fingers twitching in a soft threat to curl into fists at the intensity of it all. His mouth conveys that satisfaction even more with sighs and huffs and eventually words as you spend too long focusing on things above the previously-discarded belt.

“Do you tease yourself this long?”

“Sometimes.” You shrug, then move your gaze from his thick chest up to his heavy eyelids, just opened enough to watch your every reaction to the way his body responds. “Why? Feeling impatient?”

“Don’t speak to me about patience.” It’s a playfully sighed sentence that pulls forth too many memories. Begging him to take you somewhere more private, then eventually begging him to just do whatever whenever, as long as he was touching you where you needed it most. Then, an image of something you have yet to experience with him comes into focus. Ryomen Sukuna as sensitive and desperate as he so easily makes you. Maybe even whining.

You have your doubts that you could get as far as that, but you have no doubt that Sukuna would love to have you try. So you do your best. Kneading at soft muscle, enjoying the give beneath your fingers as you massage everywhere you’ve just touched with your toy. Not moving too fast, allowing his nerves to work into a frenzy, but moving fast enough that the vibrations don’t get a chance to numb out any sensation you could bring to him. With every new patch of flesh you drag your toy along in your slow, carefully trod path, he stretches further. It’s as if he were giving you more to work with, making himself bigger, though you certainly had more than you could handle with him already—almost.

His stomach tenses as you trail the vibrator over his hips, dragging through the precome the angry and ignored tip of his fat cock had been drooling across his abdomen since you’d begun your little task. When you delve lower, into the soft hair cradling the base of his heavy cock, his eyes close.

Sukuna allowing his keen gaze to be obscured like this lets you know you might just have him, and when you move the toy from his skin to hover it over his balls, his thighs tensing with anticipation assures you of that. Once you finally make contact he lets out a groan, nearly a purr when coupled with how pleased he looks at the sensation.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

He chuckles, more of a long drawn out breath until his lungs are empty as you keep up your soft circles of intensity. His lips purse slightly, words waiting to be formed before he can respond, then he speaks low enough you have to focus to hear him over the buzz of your toy.

“I don’t usually play with these things.”

“That’s a shame.”

His eyes open slightly, just enough for the light to catch the twinkle in them as he looks over at you. “Is it?”

“Well, a shame for you.” You drag the vibrator up, finally moving it along the shaft of his cock.

His groan flows into a laugh, eyes shutting again as his stomach tenses and his hands clench into fists. “You’re having fun?”

“Of course. I wonder though,” you slide the toy upward, following along the path beneath the red and glistening head of his cock, and have to move carefully to keep it in place as his hips buck before he has a chance to keep himself settled, “can you come just like this?”

He can’t speak for a moment, and the thrill of having the upper hand in such a way has you salivating. Then, he collects himself, not as much as you’re sure he could if he really wanted to, but enough to sound unaffected in his speech—mostly, the breathiness of a man having his sensitive tip worked over like this for the first time is still present.

“We’ll see.”

We will. You keep that thought to yourself, knowing it doesn’t need to be said as you focus on your movements, carefully pressing the button on the base of your toy to increase the vibrations.

The sound he makes is more of a huff than anything, nowhere near high pitched or drawn out enough to be considered a whine, but with the crack in his voice and the flutter of his lashes as his eyes roll back and his hips arch, it’s close enough for you.

“Like that?”

“Y-“ Another huff, interrupted by a fucked out smile, and his deep voice raises ever so slightly as he stammers for just a moment before licking his lips and starting again with a barely perceptible nod joined with raised brows, “Like that.”

You think you just might want this moment to last forever, but find you are indeed the one lacking in patience as you bring your free hand to his chest, squeezing and kneading at it before dragging your nails over his nipples. His cock jumps, causing your vibrator to lose its place and Sukuna gives you a taste of what it is you were looking for, higher pitched that any noise you’d heard him make before, a hint of desperation even, as he opens his eyes in a sort of warning that he needed it.

It’s there for just a moment before your vibrator is back on his tip and his head is settled back on the bed, eyes unfocused and hands clenched tighter. You bring your focus back to his chest, tweaking a nipple much less gently than you’d been touching him so far and his eyes lock onto yours again—frenzied, pleased.

“And that?”

“Yes.”

It’s said with a clarity that could only have been brought forth by his urgent need for more, so you do it again, harder, and he moans louder than you’d heard him before.

You could tell it was coming anyway, but you know for sure when he finally moves a hand from its self-designated position, grabbing at your hip as if he needed to keep you in place. His back arches and his gaze seem lost for a moment before he takes one last glance at your face and it’s as if seeing his depraved smile makes you realize how much of a reflection of your own it must be before his head is flung back again as his hips buck once and he spills across his stomach. They buck again as any of the hot cum meeting his hot skin is shaken out of its landing spot with the power of his orgasm ripping through him.

It seems endless, as his hips rock beneath your movements, until he’s hissing and squeezing you just a little bit tighter to let you know it’s enough. You turn the vibrator off, tossing it aside on the bed, and Sukuna pulls you down to lay your head on his chest, hand resting heavily on your side as he runs the other over his own stomach, smoothing the cum into his skin absentmindedly as his breathing returns to normal. You kiss at his chest, softly, slowly, until he’s settled and smiling down at you.

“Glad to see you enjoyed yourself.”

Your smile matches his then, as you rest your chin against his chest and meet his gaze. “Not as much as you did.”

He nods, enjoying this moment, and the next, until you decide to speak first.

“Let’s do that again sometime.”

Another nod, and an even brighter smile from Sukuna assures you it may be sooner rather than later.

[angellayercake]

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

(For the writing ask!)

Thank you so much 😊

This was a really fun exercise and something I might spend a bit more time on when I need an inspiration boost!

Although I am currently working on chapter eight of Banchetto I decided to rewrite the last part of chapter four when Terzo and his little chef share their first kiss.

Ask game here!

‘You do not have to give your answer now mia cuocoina or you can just say no,’ he says uncertainly, trailing behind her into the kitchen. He is surprised at the turn of their conversation, having been mostly convinced she was about to tell him he could stick it and starve after what he had done. 

He hadn’t meant to play with her, well he had actually, but he had underestimated not only her feelings but his own. While he had initially been reluctant to accept her presence in his life he had come to admire her obvious skill, her determination, her passion. He enjoyed watching her work, listening to her explanations and even just her presence in his quarters. When she was here everything felt lighter, a little more bearable and yet he hadn’t realised until she was gone and it had been all his fault. 

Absent-mindedly he twists his fingers together in front of him trying not to succumb to the war between hope and disappointment that was waging in his chest. While she had admitted having feelings for him, there was still a high chance he may have sabotaged whatever potential they may have had. This is uncharted territory for him and it was unsettling. Seduction was second nature to him but this wasn’t about that. This was raw and vulnerable and opened him up to heartbreak and he hated it. 

She watches him from a seemingly safe distance with an unreadable expression that does nothing to soothe his nerves. Her gaze is searching but he has no idea if she can see his sincerity, see how much he needs some reassurance. With a shake of her head she seems to come to a conclusion and begins to close the distance between them. His heart hammers in his chest with every step she takes, his tension bleeding out through his fidgeting hands until she stills them, taking hold of his hands in her soft, warm grasp. 

He can’t look up at her, his eyes fixated on where they are joined, feeling like his hammering heart had suddenly. A pleasant heat trails from her touch as she drops his hands following up his arms, across his shoulders and finally down to settle on his chest. He feels his heart restart and wonders if she can feel the nervous beat against her palm. He needs to look at her, he knows this but it takes a few breaths before he can look away from how close they are, how she is touching him. There is a slight tremor to her breathing and while it doesn’t soothe his uncertainty completely seeing her even a fraction as nervous as he feels allows the hope to begin to win the battle. 

When she finally looks at him his breath catches. She looks so beautiful, she is so close he could count her eyelashes even as they flutter. It’s not affected coyness either, it’s as if she can’t quite believe they are here, like this and he can feel his lips pull up in a smile as the hope continues to grow. Her eyes roam his face, no longer searching but the hope says perhaps appreciating? He has never had need to doubt his appeal, often being remarked handsome over his life. And as much as he has distaste for the signs of aging that seem to grow every day that passes he knows objectively that they don’t diminish his appeal he can’t entirely ignore his fear of being found wanting under her scrutiny. 

When her gaze ends up fixating on his lips though he knows she must be satisfied by what she saw. She leans closer almost unconsciously, a quiet gasp escaping her lips as she pauses and he is certain that he is being invited to kiss her for the first time. 

Their lips meet and it’s so soft and tentative and perfect. Now he can feel her lips against him he needs more of her, his hands settling on her waist, closing the distance between them as her arms wind around his neck. She is so warm against him he wishes he could keep her there forever but as much as he wants to indulge he knows he mustn't. The kiss ends and he feels suspended in the moment, gazing at her flushed face he feels as if they are on the precipice of something potentially great but he stops that thought there. He wants to keep all his focus on this moment here.

She leans back in deepening the kiss just enough to send tingles to every nerve ending in his body, allowing the tentative exploration of her tongue and following her lead in return. It’s almost as though she is tasting him and he has to swallow down a moan at the thought, her tasting the food she had made him with such care on him, tangible proof of her influence on him but he can feel her begin to pull back. He had rushed things and look where that had got him, it was her turn to set the pace.  

She doesn’t leave him entirely, lingering in his arms even as she subjects his face to another up close inspection. She is more daring this time following her eyes with her fingers but he is surprised at where her caresses land, smoothing the lines at the corner of his eyes with such undisguised affection. But pull away she does even if her reluctance matches his. 

‘I should finish up here Papa,’ she says, gesturing to the counter behind her. He lets his hand drop from her and just watches happily as the distance between them increases. 

‘Terzo,’ he says hesitantly. ‘You should call me Terzo now, si?’ 

‘Ok Terzo.’ It feels strange to hear but he is glad she accepted his invitation. ‘Now let me get on here,’ she says chiding but is sure he can still hear the affection in her voice. 

‘Si Capocuoco,’ he snaps almost to attention, happy when he hears her laugh but as he turns to leave something makes him hesitate. ‘But you will be back tomorrow morning si? Like how it was before?’

‘Yes I will.’ He leaves her then to get on without him getting in her way. He felt like he was walking on air as he headed for his room, closing his bedroom door gently leaning against it with a wistful sigh. At least until he caught his practically swooning expression in the mirror across the room. He looked ridiculous and yet even that thought didn’t wipe the smile from his face for the rest of the evening.

[epickiya722]

"The finale is bad."

Damn, we didn't even get it officially released out yet.

[lemongogo]

vash w this hairstyle is literally so cute.. .. wolfwood matchies or smt T__T

[yoshistory]

part of me still feels like i might be sort of genderfluid and/or bisexual but just traumatized about it. no idea anymore

[mihai-florescu]

I need enstars to be over because i need to know what akira's plan for himeru is so so badly (cue eichi's quote about asking an author how they plan to end their tale is poor manners). I can imagine various ways in which id consider his arc completed but there are too many variables that can change...

[anthotneystark]

And I’m split in half (But that’ll have to do)

In the end, she’d seen it coming.

In the end, he’d felt it like a train that couldn’t stop in time.

In the end, there were ghosts of people who were lost and ghosts of people they never got to be, people who had never existed and maybe never had a chance.

In the end, they say goodbye to what was, what could have been, and what died without them ever knowing.

They’d both been pretending for too long, both been fighting for something they couldn’t really believe in. She’d fought to push down the nightmares choking her, he’d fought to regain the normalcy they never got to taste before. He’d fought so hard to keep things good, clinging to the idea of them and clinging to the her that existed before her best friend was killed. She tried to push and pull and shape herself into the mold that he looked for. She bent herself into a person she never could have kept playing, but couldn’t get the words out from where they lodged in her throat.

She saw his pain, even with hers clouding her thoughts. She saw it in the way he didn’t swim in the pool, the way he kept it clean but couldn’t stand being in it.

He saw her pain in the way her smiles couldn’t linger on her face.

Dinners were never with his parents, too busy for him and unknowing of the turmoil in his heart. Dinners were never with her parents, something she didn’t want to subject him to. Dinners with parents only happened when they were the parents of the ghost haunting both of them.

In the end, the ghosts get to be too much. They come to a head with too sweet alcohol and too much noise. They come to a head with words that hurt worse than any fist. He leaves her there, but only once he knows someone else will watch out for her. Because he hurts, but he loves, he loves, he loves more than he hates himself even on his worst days.

He’s no stranger to anger, no stranger to loneliness and the ache in his heart. He knows himself to know his anger is a poison and it’s better if he’s alone when he’s trying to get rid of it. He’s trying not to be his father, trying not to be Tommy, trying not to be King Steve, who took that anger out on everyone who got in his way because that was all he’d ever known. He’s tried so hard to be better, but he feels all that anger boiling and pulling at the person he’s been building himself into.

He knows she’s hurting, knows she’s saying things she wouldn’t otherwise let out, but that makes it hurt worse because it means she’s thought about it over and over until it stuck there.

And then she doesn’t remember. She doesn’t remember and she can’t say the three words he needs to hear to fix the hole left in his heart. He can’t blame her, but he can’t not blame her just the same as he can’t blame himself, but he can’t not blame himself. It’s a vicious war in his heart and he feels so empty and hurt and angry that he walks away.

He wants to fix it, thinks if he can just apologize, even if he doesn’t know what he did wrong, they’ll be okay eventually.

He can’t though. Because she’s gone, because she can’t let the ghosts lie and he can’t blame her for that even if it terrifies him.

Except she’s gone, and then when she’s back she’s got a spark in her eyes and she can’t look at him for more than a glance. He’s already an afterthought.

He’s got bigger things to worry about that night, things bigger than him and bigger than her and bigger than the pain that still exists between them and the love that might have been there once.

She moves on, and it seems as easy as breathing for her to smile with Jonathan. She can’t see how much it makes him ache and he can’t bring himself to do anything but smile because he loves her and can’t just stop even if she’s moved on.

She’s been through enough and his anger isn’t enough to make him hurt her.

It’s like the year they spent together is just gone though and he doesn’t know what to do with that. He doesn’t go back to who he used to be, not really, but he smokes and drinks and acts like some kind of authority to the kids who follow him around and he tries to act like his heart isn’t a black hole because falling apart isn’t an option. He tries to keep up a friendship, does his best to act like it’s enough, like he doesn’t dream about her every night, like he doesn’t keep fitting her into the plans he’d always imagined. He smiles as she holds Jonathan’s hand like he isn’t still picturing her there with him in a house with a picket fence and kids running around after them.

It's his dream, not hers, and he can recognize that, but he’s not ready to let it go yet.

He sees her mom in the grocery store and sees the faint recognition in her eyes before he turns away.

He knows she has to drive past his road to get to the Byers’ house but he knows without having to ask that she’s not thinking about him as she does it.

The pain never leaves, but he holds onto it even as he wishes it was gone. He holds onto it every time he sees her. It’s a cycle in his head. Aching longing, love, anger, pain, over and over and over again. He feels stuck, forever, like there’s no escape from it and time isn’t helping.

He graduates, the pain stays as his dad promises to teach him a lesson, as he knows staying means seeing her. He finds someone who makes the pain lighten up, but she can’t remove it completely. He gets dragged back into that world of monsters and pain and still dreams about her even as he reaches for the hand that’s right there with him.

In the end, that hand isn’t the kind of love he’d hoped for, but it’s enough to finally start stitching up the pieces of his heart. In the end, it isn’t really the end after all.

They still can’t talk, but he isn’t quite so lonely anymore.

They still can’t look at each other, but she smiles at him sometimes and it feels like forgiveness.

They still can’t be friends, but they’re bound together forever.

He watches her be left behind by someone she really does love, someone who loves her too even if he can’t stay. But he’s here with her and the anger is still there but it doesn’t feel like it’s choking him anymore. He stays busy and dreams of the things that used to be within his reach and doesn’t drag her back in because it’s not fair to her.

He loves her and wants her to be happy even if it’s not with him because that’s what she deserves.

He stays by her side as they’re dragged back into fear and pain, finds himself telling her that dream that he swore would go to his grave in the gentle sunlight and haunting shadows. He tells her and hates himself for it because it’s his dream, not hers.

He watches her hug Jonathan and turns away because as much as he loves her, wants her to have her dreams, it still hurts knowing it’s not going to include him.

So he walks away, lets her go, let’s her have her dreams because it’s the least he could do. He shoves his aching heart down further in his chest because he loves, he loves, he loved, and she’s got that piece of his heart, but maybe letting her go can be good for them both.

He walks away, a different soft, small hand linked to his by their pinky fingers, and as he breathes out, he lets go of the version of them that never existed, that never had a chance of finding a home in their lives.

That night, for the first time in years, he doesn’t dream of her.

(@sharpbutsoft - I got at least a very rough sort of something that came out! Thanks for the inspiration!)

[designernishiki]

well. finished yakuza 5.