#and even if you only tag one of us the other one will see it don't worry fhdkdj the dclcu our beloved 🥺

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Watch my 9mm go BANG!

Tags: Caleb x fem!Reader, smut, gun play, dead dove, caleb is a walking red flag in this one, the gun goes WHERE???

An: So um… I’m obsessed with him, and I sincerely apologize for writing this.

No, you’re absolutely right. Sylus would never fuck you with his gun. He cherishes you, worships your body as if you’re a goddess who fell into his lap. He’s too weary of accidentally hurting you. He couldn’t fathom shoving an object of war inside your pretty little pussy, the most safest of places that he knows. It’s a blasphemous thought really.

but you know who would do that…

“C-caleb, th-that… oh my god… what are you doing-? Mmph! Shit,” you gasp and pant, looking down between your legs to marvel at the black weapon adorned with silver attachments sliding through your slick folds.

Caleb’s lilac eyes are on you, watching you from between your knees, and he has a satisfied smirk on his face as he watches the confusion, fear, and arousal take precedent on your face.

This type of debauchery is only something you could take part in with someone you trust with your whole life. Caleb already knows all your secrets… What’s one more sick kink to add to his arsenal of blackmail?

“What’s the matter, pipsqueak? This is only such a small step up from my hand.” He taunts, raising his robotic arm up to give you a teasing wave.

His other hand is carefully dragging the handgun up and down, watching as you coat his gun in the most beautiful of shine. Truthfully, he’s considering doing this with all of his guns. He needs his pretty girl to christen all of his weapons. You know… for luck.

“Ah-!” you gasp and tense as you feel him aim the weapon right at your small bundle of nerves, applying a small amount of pressure before he skillfully maneuvers the gun in small circles.

Your hands are fisting at the sheets, slightly pulling at them as you try to take your mind off of what’s happening to you. He’s using a gun to bring you to the edge, and the worst part was you’ve never been this close to finishing so quickly before.

Your stomach tightens, and you’re on the cusp. Your legs try to clamp around Caleb’s arm and the gun, but his other hand presses to your knee and forces you to keep your legs open.

“Tsk. Come on. Let me see~ I wanna see you unravel on my gun,” his eyes are glimmering with mischief and perversion as he applies more pressure, and he flicks his wrist in tighter circles, pinpointing your pleasure center down with such ease.

“Fuck-! Caleb… I-“ you can’t even get the words out before you feel your body snap like a bowstring. Your pleasure ripples through your body in waves as your walls clench around nothing.

“What a pretty sight,” he murmurs proudly as he finally relieves some of the pressure. “I wanna see it happen again,” he proclaims, sliding the gun further down towards your entrance.

“Wait- You can’t be serious, C-caleb,” you choke out, squirming backwards on the bed away from the handgun being pointed towards your very core.

“Dead serious, pipsqueak,” he affirms as he gives you that cold gaze he’s mastered since becoming a colonel. “What? Don’t you trust me?”

He flips the gun upside down, tilting the handle towards your clit as the muzzle plugs your entrance.

Your body vibrates with anticipation, and you find yourself stilling for him. Some deep depraved part of you is just as enticed as it is repulsed.

“Look at you being such a good girl,” he purrs, pressing a kiss to the inner part of your knee before he slides the barrel of the gun inside you.

“O-oh!” you gasp, arching your back off the bed as you squeeze your eyes closed. The metal isn’t very cold anymore, and it’s adequately lubed with your arousal from earlier.

“Shh, shh.” he whispers as his hands slowly work the gun further inside you. His eyes are enamored with the sight of your puffy folds, happily swallowing his gun like the needy slut you are. “Feels good to let go, don’t it?”

You’re too focused on the feeling of his gun slowly sliding in and out of you. Your warm walls hug around the barrel. You’re completely baffled at how you’re getting so turned on from this. You should be scared out of your mind, but instead, your hips are rolling, trying to seek out more stimulation from the weapon.

“Sooo eager. God, you’re so beautiful,” his voice is husky as he whispers. He can feel the strain in his pants from his erection, but he’s not looking to relieve himself. This is all about you.

He tilts the handle of the gun upwards, pressing the butt of the handle against your small bundle of nerves. The angle of the gun making it possible to stimulate twice as much.

“Oh my— shit, Caleb!” you’re stumbling over words as your cunt flutters around the gun. You’re already close again.

“That’s right, pretty. Cum on my fucking gun. Come on. Give it to me,” he demands, gripping the gun tightly with one hand as he’s pumping it in and out quicker. The sound of metal clicking and squelching echoes in the room.

His face is twisted in pure concentration, and his muscles flex with each time he moves the gun inside you. His chain bouncing around his neck as he works you down.

Your body goes taut, and you lift your hips up off the bed. Your slick is gathered beneath you onto the sheets. You’re dripping.

Your ears begin to ring, and you shout his name as you squeeze around his gun. His hands become more methodical, pumping the gun leisurely with his hand.

You can hear him let out a low growl as he watches your pussy constrict. You’re such a pitiful thing — trying to milk his gun as if it could even give you anything.

You’re gasping for air as he slowly pulls the gun out of you. Its shiny metal was glistening in your slick. Caleb smirks to himself, knowing that every time he cleans it, he’s going to have to plunge it into you again.

“Messy girl,” he grins as he admires his weapon. He then slowly brings it up to his lips before his tongue lulls out, and he licks your juices straight off of his gun, savoring your taste.

“You’re sick,” you pant, unable to tear your eyes away from the downright pornographic sight.

“Says the one who just came on my gun like a psychopath.”

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3.8k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. SA and implication of child SA (very subtle). summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: this chapter is all from Blue's perspective. if anything regarding the abuse or suffering of children triggers you do not read. though it is really not graphic at all (imo) and the SA is EXTREMELY implied and subtle (just a woman looking/potentially touching Blue's private area to check for virginity). I wanted to tell you so there are no surprises.

B

Blue hasn’t been without her father for more than an hour in over five years. There were moments when she'd imagined him disappearing, especially when he said no to her, when he could annoy her, push her too hard, or withhold the words she craved. And yet—now, with her head resting in Twix's lap, she can only long for him. The thought of his absence fills her with cold dread. The kind that erupts goosebumps on her arms despite the stuffy air in the room. Twix’s fingers gently stroke the back of her scalp, but it does little to ground her as her mind drifts to Ghost. He’s alive, that woman said. But it's been over a day, and he still hasn’t come for her.

"Do you think he will come soon?" she asks quietly.

Twix's fingers pause at the top of her hairline. "I think... I think he is doing everything he can to find you."

Blue is old enough to know that is a non-answer.

She knows, deep down, that Twix doesn't think he'll be coming, either.

"I will figure something out, okay?" she promises.

"Okay," Blue whispers noncommittally.

"Hey." A faint smile. "I've done pretty good at getting us out of shit in the past, right?"

Blue mumbles, "I guess so."

But this time felt different from those times. No matter how many times she catches Twix squinting around the room, murmuring things to Nereida, even Blue knows that a bright idea won’t magically appear. Not in here, where there is nothing except the three beds, the bolted cell, and the out-of-reach door that Ghost has yet to barge through.

When Blue's fingers instinctively search for her wrist, Twix’s face softens, and she gently encloses her palm over Blue's knuckles. "Alright. I want you to close your eyes and imagine that beach you showed me once. The one with white sand, and super blue water." Blue plays along with a deep sigh, closing her eyes as she feels a callused thumb brush her cheek. "Almost as blue as your eyes. See it?"

"I guess."

"Good. Now, I want you to imagine that you are lying on the sand, eating all the Twix bars and Nutella you want. Oh, and Grim is there. He was trying to make a sandcastle but got his head stuck in the sand."

Blue's lips twitch despite herself. "This is dumb."

"Dumb? Well, I don't think Grim finds it dumb. He can hardly breathe right now so you better stop eating chocolate and haul his ass up."

Blue snorts quietly, eyes screwing tighter as she imagines it; pulling the bunny out of the sand, giggling, the waves crashing. She falls back onto the sand with him in tow, but he darts away from her hands, toward the water. When she looks over, sun glaring, someone else is there. It's her father, and for a moment she is ready to jump on his back and beg him to play in the waves with her. That's when she notices he is keeled over, ripped apart, bloodied and battered.

Blue jolts, inhaling sharply. When she reopens her eyes, the image is still there. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I just saw—" she rubs her eyes profusely, but he's right in front of her. Blood begins to spurt from a sever in his throat. His head snaps forward, hanging by a thin thread of tissue. "I see him! H-his head is..." 

She jerks upright from Twix's lap, her eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to shake off the vision. When that doesn't help, she buries her face in the pillow, but the image remains too real to ignore. The thread snaps, and her father’s head rolls away silently.

Twix’s voice cuts through, her hands gently shaking Blue’s shoulders, but it feels distant, like a shadow compared to the sickening thud of her father’s headless body hitting the ground. Thick blood pools at her feet, and she tries to move, but her muscles won’t obey. The blood rises and rises, suffocating her, until she can’t breathe.

"Blue, it's just... you're imagining it."

"I can't... I can't..."

Someone flips her over on the bed and hugs her shoulders.

Twix's chapped lips press into her cheek.

"Please, Blue. I'm here."

The touch is enough to drain the blood and free her lungs. Her father's dead body floats away. She gulps for air, cold sweat clinging to her neck, and curls into the body beside her. Lingering panic races through her heartbeat, but then, after a minute, it begins to slow considerably. A new feeling washes over with the force of a tidal wave; fatigue.

Blue suddenly feels so tired that she can't keep her eyes open. It’s as though the terrible images have drained her entirely, leaving only murky water in their place. Her mind begins to float, and the edges of the world blur. Twix's face is in front of her yet feels so far away. Her lips try to part for words to come out, but it takes three tries just to manage: "I feel strange."

Across the cell, Nereida whispers, "I do, too."

Weight shifts on the mattress as Twix tries to sit up, leaning against the wall. Her head dips slightly, then snaps back up. A shaky inhale. "That... that fucking bitch. The oatmeal!"

The oatmeal? Blue’s thoughts latch onto the warm meal they’d been forced to eat, but the memory slips away before she can hold onto it. The slow descent snowballs. Twix’s voice distorts, blending with the chirping of birds outside the window. Her body slides down the wall, crumpling back beside Blue. She tries to hug Twix again, but her arms won’t cooperate.

Minutes later, or maybe hours, Blue hears the metal screech of the cell door swinging open. Veiled ghosts drift in. She can do nothing to run from them. Murmured voices, speaking words she doesn't understand, bleed through the heavy blanket of fog lying over her.

"Vous avez dit que celui-ci était intact?"

"Oui, Maman."

"Nous offrirons son corps pur au Seigneur. Les deux autres seront aptes à avoir des enfants."

"Mais elle est une... Je veux dire, oui, Maman."

She feels something cold and sinuous lifting her—snakes. No, not snakes. Hands. Cold, unfamiliar hands. Twix shouts something slurred. Then Blue is dragged by her feet, her spine no longer supported by the bed. She tries to squirm free, but her limbs feel heavy, useless. More hands clamp down on her arms.

No, no.

She wants to call for Twix, but her voice is muffled beneath a palm, the sound dying in her throat.

A weathered voice coos in her ear. "Sweet child. There is nothing to fear."

She can't scream.

All she knows is Twix is no longer the one beside her.

Cold fear surges through her veins, and she claws at someone’s arm. The retaliation is swift—a prick to her neck.

The strike of pain intensifies her dizziness, the last fight in her body fading away. They're dragging her again. The hard floor beneath her feet melts into soft grass, and the stark white ceiling shifts into a blue, cloudless sky before everything fades to black.

A gentle melody repeats in her subconscious until she rouses.

The same three-note tune, over and over.

Peeling her eyes open against the buttery sunlight, the first thing she notices is an open window above her head, its thin white curtain dancing in the light breeze. Upon the windowsill sits a small, cooing bird with pearly grey feathers and a black ring around its neck. Its head tilts almost mechanically, two little black eyes regarding her. She stares for a long moment before her eyes fall closed once more, lulled by the familiar call. Only when the bird quiets does she truly come to her senses. The sudden silence jolts her upright.

This isn't the same room she was in before. There hadn’t been a window in the cell, and certainly not one left open. The air there had been thick with the scent of old wood and lingering dust. But here... here, the air is different. It smells of fresh flowers, of the tall grass she used to wade through with Ghost while hunting. 

The bird calls once more before flittering away, leaving her reeling.

"A collared dove."

Her gaze snaps to the right where an old woman sits in a mahogany chair, knitting needles in hand. Without looking up from the red yarn she weaves, she explains idly, "They are very common. Lovely, but common."

The accent of her old voice is nothing like Blue's Mancunian one. But she understands each word.

Her voice pulls through her teeth with great effort. "I don't... Where am I?"

The old woman's brow furrows as if she is deep in thought, but it smoothes over after she undoes a stitch and loops it again, hands moving with an unnatural slowness. "You had them in England, yes? They are very common there, too."

Blue's fingers spread into the fine linen, her pulse ticking as she blinks a few times to sharpen her vision. The woman before her is older than anyone she has seen in a long time, though there is a faint resemblance to a woman deep in her memory who she believes was her grandmother. Unlike the woman who visited their cell with food, this one does not wear a veil over her face. Long wisps of gray hair fall over her shoulders. Wrinkles etch around her eyes and lips. She is still cloaked in white, but around her neck hangs a red cord beaded with a cross dangling at the end.

Her fingers clench. "I don't care about the-the stupid bird. Why am I here? Where are my friends? You..." she swallows the feel of sandpaper in her mouth, "You put something in the food. You made me lose control of myself again!"

Finally, grey-blue eyes flicker up beneath a questioning brow. "Oh, sweet child. You are so full of fire." With an unsettling calmness, the woman sets down the knitting needles on a carved side table. Pressing a palm to the surface of it, she rises slowly, then laces her hands in front of her. "Come, and perhaps your questions will be answered. Though, I wouldn't try to run." She moves toward the door, her gait shuffled but steady. A glance over her shoulder beckons. "Your friends are under my care."

The mere mention stiffens Blue's spine. She forces herself to her unsteady feet, swaying slightly, bare toes digging into the wood planks. Each small step feels lighter than the first time she woke up from being drugged, though her body still protests. Ahead, the woman is already walking away. It wouldn’t take much to catch up, but Blue lingers, her eyes sweeping the room with deliberate caution—always stay aware of your surroundings.

For a moment, she considers grabbing the knitting needle and stabbing the woman. But then what? Everyone, her father included, is under her care, and any misstep could mean their deaths. Ghost always told her to never act without some type of plan—to wait for the right moment. Blue doesn’t even know where the others are.

As she hesitantly steps out of the small house, the realization hits her. There are more people here than she’s seen in a long time. Almost like a town, but not really. Smaller than that, but more than her group. The building they just left is a small, home made of light grey stone. To her right are more homes, smoke billowing from the chimneys. She counts at least four of them. Straight ahead of her is gravel road. This is where the woman heads, with Blue trailing behind her. To the left is a stretch of green lawn, bright and lush. She has the itch to sprint over it, but a voice ends that idea.

"Catch up, girl." 

Gravel bites her toes as she walks to the woman's side. She is still only dressed in the simple, white slip. She hasn't worn a dress before.

"Where are you taking me?"

"There are some things I wish you to see." 

"Why... why can't the friends I was with be here to see them, too?"

From the corner of her eyes, Blue catches the woman smile lightly. "What do you think of France?"

Blue digs her nails into her palms, swallowing down her frustration at the non-answer. "It's... nice, I guess." It isn't a lie. The beautiful beach they left from, the fields of wheat and flowers, were things she'd only imagined before. 

"Good. My husband was from India but owned this land. I never wanted to leave it. France is the most beautiful place. I knew I wanted my son to grow here." She exhales in a quiet appreciation. "My husband said this land would thrive, even after the plague. He was right. The Lord spared it. He did not spare Ashwin, though."

Blue doesn't know what to say to that. If she should feel sorry for this person or not. She didn't state her husband's death in a sorrowful way, merely factual. As they walk, they pass a few men hunched over tree stumps, chopping wood. The smell of fresh earth and spilt sap wafts up her nose. The men glance up, their gazes lingering on Blue a moment too long, making her shift uncomfortably. Then, they lower their heads respectfully toward the woman. She speaks to them in French, and their chuckles follow her words.

Under a warm afternoon, they approach what looks like a large barn, bordered by wooden fence posts strung with taut wires. Inside the fenced area, Blue notices a white horse, smaller than Cherry, along with four cows. More men are working nearby, some tending to the animals while others, farther off, wield sickles to harvest stalks of wheat.

When they stop in front of the fence, Blue can't stop herself from asking, "Where are all the girls at? Like the one who fed us? I've only seen guys so far."

The woman doesn't look at her. "Our community is built around the roles God intended for us. Men have bodies made for working under the sun. Women, like those beautiful young ladies you traveled with, are vessels to be cherished, protected. Especially in these times when they have become rather scarce."

A few of the words fail to make sense to Blue, never having learned them from any of the books Ghost read her. "Um, is that why you separated the girls in my group from the men?"

She hums, a slow sound. "Women are kept in their own quarters with the infants."

"Okay," Blue rocks on her feet and grips the hem of the dress before the light air can catch it. So is her dad one of those men working, then? She quints, confused, and shakes her head. No; if he was anywhere out here, he would've come to her. He must be locked up, too. A wave of anger buzzes in her chest, louder than the cicadas. "That still doesn't explain why you are holding Twix and Nereida prisoner. If women are so special, why are they locked up and I am out here? And where are all the men from my group?" Her mind briefly flashes to the others; Kyle, Price, and... Ari. 

"None of them are prisoners, child. They are merely being readied for the role their bodies were created for, by God."

Blue grits her teeth. "You're not really answering my questions. What about me? Why did you bring me to," she glances back at the working men, who haven't stopped to look at her like the others had, too engrossed in the strenuous labor. "A fucking farm. What could you possibly want to show me here?"

"There is someone I need here before our next stop." She leans closer to the barbed fence and calls out, "Pierre! J'ai besoin de toi et de trois hommes pour nous accompagner jusqu'à la cale. Apporte les chaînes."

A man—Pierre, she guesses—strikes one of the cattle's hindquarters, wipes sweat from the back of his neck, then shouts in French to three others following behind him. They unlatch a gate in the fence and slip inside a small shed for a brief moment, emerging with rusted chains in hand. They approach, causing Blue to falter and step back. An old, strange woman is one thing, but three strong men are another. A fissure of terror cracks through her, and she inhales shakily.

"You need not be afraid."

She blinks up at the woman, who for a moment, conjures something similar to a comforting expression. Blue nods, and then they are walking again, with the four men trailing behind them. The sound of the chains dangling in their grasp makes her feel uneasy. What are they for, and why are they coming with them? She is ready to build the bravery to ask when the woman ghosts a hand on her shoulder.

"What is your name, child?"

"It's... um, Blue."

A soft chuckle. "The English and their strangeness. This is not your real name, is it?"

For some reason, Blue finds the truth stuttering out of her. "No, it's—the name I was born with is Amelia."

"Amelia. Much better. Tell me, Amelia, did your mother have blue eyes?"

Blue nearly chokes, her footsteps halting in the grass as she flinches away from her hand, curling her fingers into fists. "What the fu—why are you asking me that?"

The woman stops beside her and clasps her hands together, the long sleeves of her gown falling over them. She is small woman, hardly taller than Blue, and can't be any stronger than she is, but something about her emits control. Blue can't look away from her eyes, even as her jaw tightens, stomach swirling.

"They are many answers to questions that can be discovered on their own if one simply looks for them. I know which one of them is your father—"

"How could you know?" Blue demands. "I haven't even said any of them was my dad."

Thin lips twitch at the side. "A daughter gets the shape of her face from her father." A bony finger reaches to trail the edge of Blue's cheek, and she trembles from the cold feel of it. "But the features are all from her mother." She looks away and continues walking, speaking over her shoulder, "A little dove might have also told me he was asking for you."

When the men step forward, Blue is forced to continue walking. It feels hard to breathe, even though the canopy of trees offer fresh, rich air. "Then why are you asking about my mother?"

"Your eyes are blue, but your father's are not. I was simply curious."

"My mother is dead," Blue finds herself gritting out. 

"I figured. Neither of those women were her, and many mothers have been lost. A very terrible thing. A child needs its mother. You will call me Maman, Amelia. This is what French children call their mothers."

"I am not going to fucking call you that. Tell me where we are going," Blue presses, swallowing as she looks back at the farm behind them. Through the gaps between the men's shoulders, she sees that it is rather distant now, along with the small homes. She looks back ahead; nothing but overgrown vegetation. Even the flowers have grown sparse over here. It is quiet and still. She can hear the thrum of her own heart.

"Your fire is admirable, but you need to learn respect." For the first time, Maman's voice carries an edge, one that sends a shiver down Blue's spine. A foreign bird call echoes through the leaves, and the woman holds up a hand, signaling for everyone to stop and listen. "Ah. That’s the Bluethroat, if I’m not mistaken. Much rarer than the dove. You won't often find those in England."

The bird calls again—a trilled chirp—as they crest over a small hill, and the air suddenly grows heavier, more pungent. A smell Blue knows well makes her freeze, but a strong grip on her arm keeps her moving toward the source of the stench: an old, smaller building made of much darker stone. The sharp rustle of wings through the trees fades into the distance, but the tension in her body doesn’t ease.

"You, too, are rare, Amelia," Maman continues, voice steady and unhurried. "A pure, young female like you—so virtuous—carries more favor from God than any other. Your friends have their purpose, and you have yours. Each of us plays a part in shaping the new vision of God's children."

The men move in front of them now, except for one who continues gripping Blue. The tremble in her body intensifies, and a cold pit grows unbearable in her chest, thundering. She is forced to stand about four meters in front of the large door, where one man grips the handle while two others, including Pierre, stand beside it, their hands ready with chains and their stances wide. It’s now, through the stinging film that grows over her eyes, that Blue notices large metal muzzles attached to the chains.

Blue is too stunned—too confused, yet frightfully aware—to move a muscle when Maman procures a knife from inside her robe. Pierre shouts something in French, but Blue can barely hear him. Her senses are fixed on the bead of sunlight glinting off the knife, and on the scratching and snarling she hears from the other side of the door.

"Please—" she gasps, unable to finish the thought.

Maman ignores her in favor of snatching hold of her wrist. Cold fingers force her arm to extend, and a burning pain cries out when the knife slashes a laceration from her elbow to the rim of her palm. 

"Une seule coupure pour les attirer."

The blood weeps, and the door shakes from the ignited frenzy behind it.

Tears finally escape Blue’s eyes just before the door opens. She feels it—the sensation of her body being torn apart beneath rotten teeth. She squeezes her eyes shut, thinking of Ghost, when she hears more shouting and the harsh sound of chains being whipped through the air. When she opens her eyes again, the men are wrestling two Greys into the muzzles.

"Deux c'est bien!" Maman orders, and the door is slammed shut over the others that threaten to spill out toward the fresh wound. 

Blue is alive.

Her arm numb and bleeding. 

Maman yanks something else from her robe—a strip of cloth. She wraps it roughly around Blue's forearm, then issues another command. Without warning, Blue is hoisted from the ground and callously tossed over the shoulder of the man who had held her in place. They start heading back the way they came, the leashed Greys trailing behind them, and finally, a scream rips from Blue’s throat.

"You said this one was intact?" "Yes, Maman." "We will offer her pure body to the Lord. The other two will be fit to have children." "But she is a… I mean, yes, Maman." "Pierre! I need you and three men to accompany us to the hold. Bring the chains." "One cut to attract them.” “Two is good!”

[lunarriviera]

There's actually a couple more additional aspects that can make a difference, if you're a fiction writer, to help your reader. 1. We all know that the most common narrative tag should be "says" or "said" (depending on what verb tense you're writing in). But given that, it's useful to vary the way that's structured as well, alternating it with the noun/subject:

"Spock, I'm tired of this," Kirk said. "I don't want to go on this way any longer." "I see," said Spock, after a moment. There was a pause. He said, "Would you be willing to explain what is troubling you?"

In this example the verb hasn't changed, but the order in which it's deployed has (though tbh if I weren't making that point I probably would have introduced the third utterance with, "before he added").

2. Vis-à-vis the point about paragraph breaks letting the reader know that someone new is speaking, it's really important to keep the utterances of a single character together. Even when the speech acts are broken up by a fair amount of description:

"Fine," says Watson, shortly. He bends down to the dining table then and concentrates on making his sandwich: brown bread, butter, and a thick layer of strawberry jam. Outside their flat, the starlings are deafening, clustering noisily around Mrs. Hudson's bird feeder. "There's just one more thing, Sherlock," he adds, as he slams the two slices of bread together. "Oh? And what's that," asks Sherlock, not looking around his newspaper.

I often see writers tempted to start a new paragraph at any point between Watson's first and second utterances, but please resist that temptation. Otherwise we're going to have to reread it at least twice to figure out what's going on. Always save your white space for a change of character, in dialogue. (And conversely don't add a space when a character simply changes the subject. If it's still the same character, it's still the same utterance/speech act.)

3. In both of the above examples, the narrative tag comes after the utterance, which is typical, but if you do that too repetitively it gets boring like anything else. Start some paragraphs/sentences with description or exposition, then drop in the utterance. It's best if you go back and forth between these. Changing length of speech acts is very good too! People don't speak in complete sentences anyway.

John didn't respond for a moment, but sat motionless, looking out over the water. When he finally spoke his voice was hoarse. "Why? You owe me that much." "Fine! I'll tell you." This was followed by a bewildering silence during which Rodney walked around in a circle waving his hands, and then stood spluttering inarticulately. "Rodney?" John turned around despite himself. McKay kicked a chair before glaring at him. "You have a master's degree! How are you this dense? Were you ever going to— Sheppard narrowed his eyes. "To what?" "Ask me to marry you!"

I threw in a couple other little tricks in here to keep things moving, though it's pretty terrible as far as dialogue goes. What I usually do is write dialogue, then later try to take out approximately half of it. This is an old hack I learned during a playwrighting class in grad school. We actually had the actors fold their sides in half and only read the first halves of the written dialogue. This will never work, we thought, it won't make any sense. IT WAS INCREDIBLE, PLS TRY IT.

(and no I don't know why everyone in the examples is breaking up i'm a angst-loving pantser okay lbr these men aren't always going to get along)

Writing Tips

Punctuating Dialogue

✧

➸ “This is a sentence.”

➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.

➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”

➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”

➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”

➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”

➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.

“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.

“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”

➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”

➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”

However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!

➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.

If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)

➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“

“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.

➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.

➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”

➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.

“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”

➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.

“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”

[honeyhotteoks]

across stardust - two (j.yh); section one

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you’ve never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he’s so much more than a crush, he’s your soulmate. one | two (*section one); (section two) | three | four 🔗read on ao3✨ across stardust pinterest board

note: i hope everyone enjoys this chapter. it's wildly fluffy and wildly romantic, and then deliciously smutty so i hope everyone enjoys.

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, suggestive language, allusions to a past ex who pressured her into things she wasn't ready for, anxiety etc., and finally the smut; heavy makeouts, grinding, oral f!receiving, convos about oral m!receiving, lots of fingering, lots of cock touching, earth shattering soulmate sex, rough sex, soft!dom/pleasure!dom yunho and wide eyed sub!reader, heavy on the dirty talk, HEAVY on the praise. we got a lot of good girls in this one, and good god tagging for gratuitous use of pet names from yunho. lots of missionary and missionary adjacent positions, spooning sex to idk he's on his back and she's on top but laying on him it's hard to describe but by god is it hot please enjoy

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 28.1k

**this part was too long for tumblr's new word count guidelines! please check out the second half of this part, here!

The tour ends in Paris of all places. After weeks of concealing your growing relationship with Yunho from everyone, it feels like the universe is rubbing salt in the wound bringing you to the so-called city of love. 

For weeks as you hopped city to city, a whirlwind of language and culture and food, you found yourself living for the quiet, stolen moments with him. Quick visits to each other’s hotel rooms and even faster kisses, but never a full night. He hugged you briefly in Amsterdam, left a single rose on your station in Rome, bought you a cashmere scarf in London when the weather took a turn. You catalog these moments in your memory, and scribble down musings in your travel journal, and try not to judge yourself for saving every little scrap of your secret relationship down to the gift receipt in the bottom of the bag and one of the rose petals (pressed dry between the pages of your latest read). 

Paris feels different though. Everywhere you look there are couples snuggled close in the winter chill, and though you aren’t necessarily one for public displays of affection, seeing it like this makes your heart ache. You’d at least like the option. But despite his little gifts, you and Yunho have been doing your best to be subtle, mitigating even the smallest glances, and getting to know him over text. It wasn’t enough, but you could cope, until now. Until this city. You weren’t supposed to walk through a city this romantic alone, not when your soulmate was a few blocks away in a hotel room. You were supposed to be with him.

He feels your ache though, and you feel his. 

Besides, it’s almost, almost over. 

In Paris, you all have an extra two days to account for the end of the tour and flights home, and the electric energy of being almost finished and almost home has everyone buzzing. The members are jittery with anticipation but so is the staff, so close to being back home and in the arms of their loved ones and with a belly full of Korean food. 

On the last show, after soundcheck runs perfectly smoothly and the pre-show rituals have all been checked off without a hitch, it goes to shit. Venue delays, an issue outside getting the fans inside, leaving the stadium only half full at the call time. 

It’s not the first time this has happened of course, but it is the first time for this tour and to have it happen on the last day leaves everyone groaning. 

“They couldn’t tell us this twenty minutes ago?” Hongjoong asks one of your production team.

They had been moments away from starting the introduction lights and music, the boys had already gotten up onto their rising platforms when a member of the venue staff had jogged all the way backstage waving her arms and trying to explain in a mix of French and English that they had to wait. 

“They said thirty minutes,” The staff member replies, “we won’t have to make any cuts, but anything over an hour we’ll need to start,” 

“Fuck,” Hongjoong’s jaw tightens, “Sorry, I apologize,” 

The boys are gathered tightly around management and the production staff and you, Iseul, and the other members of makeup and hair step forwards to listen in. 

You can’t quite catch all of the conversation, but then there’s some nodding in the center circle and Sunhee, the head of tour production, turns and addresses everyone as they shuffle into a semi-circle around him, “Alright, we’re running on a thirty delay,” 

Everyone nods.

 “If we hit 60, we’re electing to cut Deja Vu, Silver Light, DLWB, and Eternal Sunshine,” He explains, “We’ll shift Wave into the 8th block behind Dreamy Day, yes?” 

Everyone nods again. 

“That’s a setup we’re already prepared for, correct?” He addresses the sound team who nods, and then looks to every other team who follows suit before he continues, “If we need to cut more, we need to be prepared for a lot of small changes. It’s possible we lose Win and Fireworks, and that’s not something we want to do. Everyone needs to be on strict standby until we get rolling, I don’t want to be looking for anyone in the bathroom or finding out someone stepped out for a smoke, clear?” 

There’s a chorus of responses. 

“If you need a break, do it in the next five. Every ten until lights, we’re right here.” He’s a clear, no nonsense leader, but everyone has their marching orders. 

The group breaks up after that, several staff hurrying off to the bathrooms now and a couple of the BB Trippin dancers slipping out the back access door for a cigarette. 

The members are talking amongst themselves in a tighter circle, planning choreography changes and ment changes to tighten up the time, and you try your best to not look at Yunho for more than a passing glance. His back is to you, and you ache to reach out and see how he’s doing, ease the bubble of stress you feel in your gut, but you can’t. 

Iseul bumps you gently with her hip and nods her head back towards your stations. Dahan and Eunji are back, thankfully, having gotten over Covid fairly quickly and started testing negative, and the four of you huddle up to do your own planning session. 

“This doesn’t change much for us except how fast we work,” Iseul says, “we can make some strategic cuts around the unit stages too, no added eye enhancements, keep the focus on skin, lips, and brows.” 

“Done,” Dahan nods and then settles back into the chair at her station, “I don’t think there’s much more we can do,” 

Iseul nods, “It’s not a makeup heavy set,” 

Eunji collapses into her own chair and pops open an energy drink, “That just means their foundation has to look better,” 

“They look good,” You assure her, “and lord knows we use enough setting spray,” 

Eunji laughs and takes a swig of her drink, her carefully manicured nails clicking against the aluminum can as drops it back down on the table, “Hmm,” her leg bounces nervously, “we should check them again,” 

“They’re fine,” Iseul says, “plus, wardrobe has them.” 

You look back up, and sure enough the wardrobe team is fluttering around them as they talk, taking every opportunity to re-steam a jacket or fix a pant hemline. 

You lean back against the long table of snacks and water bottles along the one white wall and watch the chaos, your fingers drumming restlessly along the lip of the table. 

“Hey!” One of the wardrobe staff leaps forwards and you look up, “Don’t sit on the couch, I’ll just have to press those pants again!”

Wooyoung leaps up from the couch and groans, “Sorry, sorry,” 

“Let me check you,” She inspects his pants with a sharp gaze, “these crease too easily,” 

Wooyoung cracks a joke you don’t hear, but everyone within earshot is laughing and you smile at the scene. You’ve all worked together for so long it really does feel a bit like family. 

Staff starts to gather back up, and Sunhee makes another clear announcement, “Still running on a thirty,” 

Everyone echoes back their understanding. 

Now there’s nothing to do but wait. Chewing the inside of your lip you fish your phone out of your brush belt pocket and idly scroll, flicking through photo after photo on Instagram and barely absorbing any of it. 

A body shifts in your periphery and you look up to see Yunho, leaning on the table next to you but leaving an appropriate amount of space between your bodies. His head is angled away from you, talking animatedly to San about something, and though you know he’s ignoring you on purpose you also know he sat here for a reason. 

Your chest warms, and so does his. 

Feeling him this close feels like you’re standing in a rising tide, the sensation of him filling the space around you so wholly and completely, and you know if you were to just surrender to it would carry you right out to sea. 

San’s eyes flick to yours, “What about you?” 

You blink, “Hmm?” You might have been looking in their direction but not a single word made it into your brain. 

San’s eyebrow quirks up in amusement, “That dance challenge with Bada, have you seen it?” 

“Oh,” You nod, realizing what trend they’re talking about on Tiktok, “yeah, for sure, it’s everywhere right now,” 

“I’m trying to get Yunho to do it with me,” He explains, “it’s cool right? I think we’d kill it,” 

Yunho swivels his head to look in your direction and your stomach flips and you fight to keep your face somewhat professional and neutral when you nod, “It’s definitely cool, a lot of idols are doing it, you should,” 

“Well,” He smiles, his expression warm, “I guess I’ll have to,” 

San snorts softly, and you wonder briefly if he involved you in the conversation because he knew Yunho would cave if you said something. 

The moment is short though, when Wooyoung cuts between San and Yunho, “Budge over I need a water,” 

Yunho slides to the side just a few inches, but it’s enough to feel the heat of his body from shoulder to thigh as he gets closer to you and your breath quickens. Even after a few weeks, his proximity still makes you feel a dizzy kind of elation and you swallow tightly to keep your own reactions under wraps. 

“You good?” Yunho’s focused on Wooyoung’s serious expression though. 

“My calf keeps cramping,” He complains, uncapping a water bottle and locating a packet of electrolytes to pour into it. 

“You need to stretch,” San says, “drink that and come here,” 

Wooyoung grumbles something and Yunho chuckles. 

“Yeah, yeah,” San rolls his eyes, “don’t complain when you know I’m right,” 

“Fine,” Wooyoung downs the water bottle, drinking half of it in three thirsty gulps and then spins on his heel to follow San to the far wall that’s empty. 

For a moment, Yunho doesn’t move. 

You stay frozen in place, unsure of exactly what to do, if you should move or if you should let him move, but he makes the decision for you. 

The back of his knuckles brush along yours for just a moment, and then he’s up again and walking towards his members. Your heart flutters, and you’re sure he can feel it with the way he looks at you, just one quick glance back before he starts stretching again with Wooyoung and San. 

You’ll have to add that one to your notes then, he brushed your hand in Paris. 

Blissfully, they announce again that the delay is only going to be thirty minutes. No cuts to the show, no panic. In ten minutes everything will start and you’ll be one step closer to home.

In the wings at the new call time, you prep them again with a final pat of powder, smoothing out any whisper of a pore. When they move past you, Yunho’s hand brushes yours again, and you wonder if he knows he’s doing it. It feels unconscious the way he gravitates towards you, and though he keeps the contact decidedly subtle, you can feel the way his nervousness eases with just a touch of your skin on his. 

You watch him as he jogs out to the stage risers, you can’t quite tear your eyes away. He’s so handsome, so commanding of the stage, so unlike the soft, gentle man you’ve come to know off screen. You’re starting to really love them both, or perhaps you already do, and quietly you send him as much warmth and confidence through the link as you can. 

His eyes flick over to the wings, a flash of a smile on his lips, but then he refocuses and adjusts his in-ears, and the risers lift into the roar of the crowd once again. 

Your eyes track him as he goes up, and sensation bursts through the link from his side, only this time it doesn’t take you down to your knees. You’ve gotten used to it the past few shows, and now it just rings in your body like background noise. 

A hand closes around your forearm and pulls, yanking you out of your dazed thoughts, and you whirl to catch Iseul’s serious expression.

“Come with me,” She murmurs lowly, “right now.” 

Your stomach twists but you keep the panic to a minimum, you can’t do this to him again. Following her to the backstage door, she grabs her coat and tugs it on and throws you yours. She tugs you outside before you can even properly get your arms through the sleeves and you yank your arm back, “What’s going on?” 

“You’re asking me?” She says quietly even though the stage door is shut tight and there’s no one in sight, “Are you kidding?” 

She shoves a hand into her pocket and fishes out a pack of cigarettes, ones that she usually only smokes after a few drinks, “I started to think in Amsterdam that it was one of them,” 

Your stomach sinks like a stone. 

She sparks the lighter and leans in to light the smoke, “You were watching them differently,” 

“Iseul,” 

“But, I guess it’s Yunho, isn’t it?” She takes a drag and levels you with a serious expression. 

“Please,” You don’t even know what you’re begging for, she’s your best friend, but the fear of the unknown still crushes your chest, “don’t,” 

“He watches you too,” She says, “I wasn’t sure at first, he’s always been friendly with us, but this is different,” 

“I don’t know what to say,” You manage. 

“How about you don’t lie to your best friend,” She takes another drag, “that would be a good start,” 

“It’s not what you think,” You step closer. 

“I don’t think you know what I think,” 

“Iseul,” You wrap your arms around yourself. 

“Fine,” She tips the ash off the end of the cigarette and pushes her pin straight hair back over her shoulder, “I’ll tell you what I think,” 

You stay silent, stomach tight. 

“You’ve been weird,” She says, “I’ve never seen you act like this over a guy, and I really doubt you just noticed him for the first time, so either you’re an excellent liar or you’re in love with him,” 

You blanch. 

“And if you’re in love with him,” She points out, “so suddenly after years, then there’s more to it. So I started paying attention,” 

She takes a long drag of her cigarette and sighs out the smoke. 

“You’ve been sneaking off,” She points out, “checking your phone constantly,” 

Your eyes flick down to the pavement. 

“But the weirdest part,” She says, “is that you’ve been changing in the bathroom and we’ve been friends for years. I’ve seen your tits like a hundred times,” 

Your head snaps up. 

“You’ve been too happy lately for it to be something bad,” She says, her voice softening a bit, “so it’s something good, something like your mark changing.” 

”Iseul,” Your voice comes out weakly. 

“Fuck,” She looks over your expression, “he’s your soulmate,” 

“We didn’t know,” You stumble through the words, “I swear, we didn’t,” 

“I believe you,” She nods, “I just want to know why you couldn’t tell me. I’m your best friend, I would have helped you, I wouldn’t… I would never tell anyone,” 

“I know,” You reach for her, “I know you wouldn’t do that.” 

“Then why?” She pulls her wrist from your touch and ashes her cigarette again, “Because it really hurts that you couldn’t trust me with this.” 

“It’s not that,” You press, and it pours out of you, “we don’t even know what we’re doing. It’s really overwhelming, everything I’m feeling and he’s feeling, and then there’s the contracts and the job and the fucking public, and I just… I don’t know what to do, we don’t know what to do. We decided to wait until we got back to Korea to figure it out properly,” 

She nods. 

“I was going to tell you as soon as I got the nerve up,” You promise, “I haven’t even called Hana,” 

Her eyes widen at the confession that you haven’t told your sister after weeks, “Babe,” 

“If you know,” You manage, “and she knows, then it’s happening, and I,” 

Iseul flicks her cigarette to the curb and throws her arms around you, tugging you close for a hug, “Oh, you nervous idiot,” 

“I promise,” You hug her back, “I was going to tell you,” 

“Don’t you want it to be real?” She murmurs the question, “It’s your soulmate,” 

“I do,” You nod, “I want him, it’s just,” 

She rubs your back as you sigh.

”It could be easier,” You finally admit, “if he wasn’t who he is, then it would be simple.” 

She nods and pulls back from the hug, giving you a final squeeze, “Simple’s for fairytales,” 

“I guess,” 

“We’ll work it out,” She nods, “I’ll help.”

“I should have told you weeks ago,” You confess. 

“Probably,” She nods, “I would have helped cover for you at least,” 

You smile, “Yeah?” 

“Totally,” She nods. 

You sigh into the cold air, your breath making a cloud of vapor. 

She pushes her hands into her coat pockets and then stops, “Who else knows?” 

“San, he saw it when we touched,” You tell her and her eyes widen, “and Seonghwa… he found us in bed that morning in Berlin,” 

“I’ll be mad about them knowing before me later,” Her nose crinkles, “but that’s good, let’s keep the circle small for now.” 

“Definitely,” You nod, “we want to tell people, but just not… it’s better at home,” 

She chews the inside of her lip, sighing and pulling out another cigarette, “You haven’t slept together?” 

“Not yet,” 

As she lights the second cigarette her eyebrow quirks up, “So you’re just tormenting yourselves for fun, or?” 

Iseul was, without a doubt, the biggest believer in soulmates you’ve ever met. Everyone in her family was lucky enough to have found their match young, from her parents to her siblings, but she’s been waiting. Out of anyone without a soulmate though, she knew exactly how difficult the time between initial touch and fulfillment of the bond was. 

“We nearly did,” 

“And?” She takes a drag.

“He wanted to do it right,” You explain, your cheeks heating.

She nods, “He seems like that type,” 

Your gut tightens and you exhale, “I was also a little terrified,” 

“You and relationships,” 

“This is different,” You cross your arms.

 Iseul smirks at your sudden defensiveness, “I know it is,” she says, “but it’s still freaking you out, obviously,” 

“It was,” You admit, “maybe it is, but not in the way you’re thinking.” The logistics have you stressed beyond belief, but him? Those fears have been fading fast since that first night.

 “So, you do love him,” She smiles, flicking away her half smoked cigarette.

All you can do is nod. 

Iseul softens at that, after so many years of friendship and watching each other try relationships on for size. Every almost match that withered into nothing, every missed connection, every late night wondering. 

“I’m happy for you both,” She says earnestly, reaching for the door and clearing her throat to shove away the emotion there, “but I swear if you lie to me again,” 

You laugh, “Got it.” 

She punches in the key code to the door and twists the handle when it goes green, but then she stops short, “Listen, we’ll talk about the rest later, but you’ve got to tone it down with him in there. No more longing looks, no more little touches, if I saw you someone else will too.” 

Your stomach twists, “Fuck,” 

“It’s fine,” She says, “I was looking for it, but eventually someone’s going to notice.” 

“Okay, you’re right” You nod. 

“Let’s get back in there,” She pulls the door back open and you stumble inside. 

Everyone is gathering up again for the first costume change, and you do your best to shake off the conversation. Iseul squeezes your shoulder once, and then slips back to her station like nothing ever happened. 

You don’t look at him again the rest of the show. 

Iseul’s warning lives in your mind and you try to keep some distance. You give him the same polite congratulations on the tour that you give to every member, ignoring the little crease between his brows when he realizes you’re being funny. 

At the team dinner, you keep to the far side of the table and keep the soju to a minimum. 

You ignore the buzzing phone in your pocket and his quick glances. 

Iseul keeps you busy, keeps you steady.

You don’t let yourself look at the text messages on your phone until you’re back in your hotel room and able to finally relax. A string of texts from him make your heart twist. 

everything alright?

you seem tense, did something happen during the show?

alright now i know you’re avoiding me….. jagi, what did i do? tell me so i can fix whatever it is

you look so beautiful tonight, i wish i was across the table from you. i wish we didn’t have to hide this. i wish you’d tell me what’s wrong so i can make it better. 

let me know you get to your room safely. 

“You good?” Iseul asks as she flops back on her bed, “You look freaked,” 

“Yunho,” You pass her the phone so she can see for herself. 

She skims the messages quietly, one eyebrow raising, “Girl,” she looks up at you, “I said be subtle, not emotionally terrify your new boyfriend,” 

Your cheeks heat, “He’s not my boyfriend,” 

“Yeah he is,” Iseul rolls her eyes and tosses your phone back, “and the sooner you accept that this is good for you, the sooner you can get a handle on this with him and actually make a plan,” 

Chewing the inside of your lip you sink down onto the edge of your own bed, “I keep fucking this up,” 

She shakes her head, “You’re fine, but you’re also wound so tight some strings are bound to break. Call him,” 

“He’s probably so pissed at me,” You breathe.

 “He’s probably worried,” She counters, “but babe, he’s not any of your shitty exes. At some point you have to stop being scared that every guy is going to break your heart, especially this one.” 

“Ouch,” You grimace at her words. 

“Am I wrong?” 

You sigh heavily and run a hand through your hair, of course she wasn’t wrong. Iseul had watched you couple up time and time again only for it to be another failed attempt at not being alone. That combined with your only significant relationship being littered with gaslighting, cheating, and a truly terrible sex life meant she wouldn’t let you settle, or let a good thing pass you by just because of your anxiety and less than stellar history with the opposite sex. 

“Call him,” She interrupts your thoughts again. 

You swallow tightly, but at her unwavering gaze you finally look down and press the call button next to his contact picture, pressing the phone to your ear, your fingers drumming nervously on your knee. 

Yunho picks up on the second ring, “Baby?” 

He doesn’t sound mad at all, all you hear is relief in his voice and your shoulders drop, “Hey,” 

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” You hear the rustle of sheets on his side as he sits up. 

“Nothing,” You let out the air trapped in your chest, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry,” 

He’s quiet for a second, but then he speaks up, “I can feel your stress, y/n,” 

You wonder how heavily it’s pouring out of you for him to feel it so clearly through the link. 

He takes a slow breath and then continues, “If it’s something I did, I’d like to know so we can talk about it. If it’s something else, I’m here,” 

There’s a brush of warmth against your mark, and all your tension starts to melt, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Yunho, I promise.”

“Okay,” He murmurs, letting you know he’s listening, waiting for more. 

You look up and meet Iseul’s gaze. She nods at you, waving her hand towards you in a ��get on with it’ motion, silently pushing you through this. 

“Iseul knows about us,” You tell him in a nervous exhale, “she noticed we were being familiar, that there was something going on,” 

Sheets rustle again and Yunho clears his throat, “Oh,” he says, “I mean, you’re friends aren’t you? Is she upset?”

You open your mouth to say more, but Iseul groans and pushes herself off the bed, snatching the phone from your ear and taking over the call. You jump up to grab it back, but she holds you back with one arm outstretched and a growing smile on her face.

 “Yunho?” She says, “It’s Iseul,” 

You hear a short response from Yunho, but you can’t make out the individual words he says.

 “Of course I’m not upset,” Iseul says, “I’m honestly really, really happy for you both, even if I had to figure it out myself,” 

You watch as Iseul listens to his reply and she laughs sharply. 

“Yeah, you two giving each other puppy eyes for the last few weeks was not subtle, no,”

Another beat, and you nudge her side, whispering, “Iseul,” 

“No, no,” She shakes her head and steps away from you to keep talking to him, “I told y/n this, but I was looking for it. She was acting weird so I knew something was up, but I just wanted you both to be careful in front of everyone,” 

Yunho says something you can’t hear and Iseul nods to herself.

”She’s okay,” Iseul looks back to you, a soft expression in her eyes now, “you’ll learn this, but she’s a little skittish.” 

“Iseul!” 

She rolls her eyes at you, but listens to him and nods again, “Listen,” she finally says, “I’m going to give the phone back to your girl, but before I do I just want to remind you that she’s my best friend. I think you’re a good guy, Yunho, but if you so much as make her cry, I’ll kill you. Clear?” 

His reply is short and she laughs.

 “Good,” Iseul grins, “she deserves someone good, and I know you can be that person for her.”

You reach out your hand for the phone again, needing to talk to him and pull your best friend back from whatever emotional speech she might let loose next. 

“I’m glad,” Iseul says, “now let me put y/n back on, I think she’s about to have an aneurism.” 

You can hear Yunho’s laugh as she passes back the phone and you take it eagerly, “Hi, god, I’m so sorry about that,” 

Iseul laughs and walks towards the bathroom to wind down and do her skincare and give you a brief moment of privacy, and you spin and walk towards the far end of the room near the window. 

“It’s fine,” Yunho sounds warm and not at all upset, “I’m glad you have a friend like her,” 

“Still,” You curl up into the armchair, “I didn’t mean to act so weird today or to corner you like this after such a long show,” 

“Don’t apologize,” He soothes you, “I know this is a lot, and Iseul’s right, we need to be careful if we want to do this the right way,” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, “still, I could have texted you and told you. I just got nervous,” 

“I know,” He murmurs, “but in the future, you don’t have to be alone in that. I’m your guy.” 

A smile tugs at your lips, “You are?” 

“Mhm,” He says softly, “you don’t have to handle anything alone anymore, jagi.”

Tightness sinks into your throat and you nod, pushing back the telltale sign of tears, “I’d like that,” 

“Good,” He murmurs, “now are you up for doing me a favor?” 

“A favor?” Your brow furrows, “What’s wrong?” 

“Not wrong,” He sounds so relaxed, so comfortable, and it puts you at ease, “but get your coat and map yourself to the location I’m sending you,” 

“What?” You laugh, feeling your phone buzz as his text comes through. 

“We’ll keep our distance,” He assures you, “but sweetheart, it’s snowing, and I am not missing the first snow with my soulmate in Paris,” he emphasizes, “so bundle up and get out here.” 

You pull the curtain to the side, and sure enough there’s snow swirling in the air, falling in soft fluffy flakes.

“Oh, wow,” You breathe, taking in how a white blanket has already started to thicken up on the streets outside. 

“Call me back when you get there,” He says, “okay?” 

“Yeah,” You smile, soft warmth spreading through your body, “I’m on my way,” 

You’re a whirlwind as you tug your coat back on, lacing up your boots and searching your bag for a pair of gloves. Iseul gives you one look when she sees you getting ready, but she smiles, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” 

“I won’t be long, I’m sure,” 

She shrugs, “Be safe,” 

“I will,” 

She searches for something on the side table and tosses it to you, a small black piece of fabric, “Mask, don’t forget,” 

“Got it,” You nod, affixing the mask to your face. The likelihood of you being photographed in Paris during a snowstorm when you weren’t even going to be next to Yunho was close to zero, but the risk wouldn’t be worth it. 

“Go get your man,” She arches her brow suggestively and you groan, rolling your eyes and darting out of the hotel room before she can embarrass you anymore. 

As quickly as you can, you map yourself to the pinned spot he sent and start walking. It’s hard to tell from the map, but as you get closer to the spot a few streets up from your hotel on the far side of the Seine you realize this is all it is, a street corner by the edge of the bridge. 

There’s barely anyone around, especially with the weather, and you can’t see Yunho anywhere. 

Tucking your coat closed around you, you find your phone and follow Yunho’s instructions. 

He picks up your call immediately, “You there?” he asks, his voice sounding a little muffled. 

“Yeah,” You breathe, looking around to see if you can spot him now, “Are you coming?” 

“I’m already here,” He says, “look up, across the river under the light by the steps,”

You step close to the stone railing at the edge of the river, and sure enough under the street lamp directly opposite your corner, Yunho stands unmistakably tall under the light. You can’t make out the details of him from this far away, the river is wide enough that he could be just about anyone at this distance, but then the figure waves. 

You can hear the smile in Yunho’s voice when he says, “Hi, baby,” 

“Hey,” You relax into the railing, your stomach flipping pleasantly. You’re still not used to the way he’s tender with you, his pet names and how easily he sunk into being soulmates, but you trust him. It doesn’t matter how fast or how hard you’re falling, despite those fluttering nerves, you know he’s going to catch you, you feel it. 

He hums pleasantly through the phone and you imagine him smiling, “Take a walk with me?” he asks brightly.

“Love to,” You murmur. 

“I have a surprise for you,” He says, “it’s just around the bend of the river,” 

“How did you have time to do anything? We just got to Paris last night,” The figure across the river starts to walk and so you follow, slowly making your way up the length of the river by the stone railing. 

“Don’t get too excited,” He laughs softly, “I didn’t do anything,” 

“Mhm,” The air is crisp and sharp, and you take in a deep breath, “I love snow,” 

“Me too,” 

“People always say I’m crazy, but I prefer winter over summer,” 

“I do too,” He says, and you can almost picture him smiling, “I hate the heat,” 

There’s a natural lull, a gentle pause in conversation, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. You feel his presence with you as if he were walking right at your side, and it keeps you warmer than any scarf or padded coat. 

Finally, Yunho breaks the companionable silence, “I always try to take a long walk in a new city,” 

“Late night, like this?” You ask.

“It’s usually the only time I have,” He sighs, “I’m getting used to exploring places by street lamp,” 

“I’d like to actually explore here during the day,” You say, “I’ve always wanted to come here,” 

“Where else have you always wanted to go?” 

You step around a couple nestled close together near the wall and continue on, boots crunching on the layer of snow ahead of you, “Everywhere,” you admit, “but I don’t know, there’s more of America to see, and I’ve never been to Australia. Vietnam maybe, or, oh, Iceland, I’d like to see the northern lights.” 

“I’d love to take you there someday,” 

“Take another long walk in the snow,” You offer, glancing across the river. It takes you a moment to find him as you both pass through a busier spot, but you see him pass under another street lamp and your heart is back at ease. 

“y/n,” Yunho says after a beat, “are you sure you’re alright with Iseul knowing about us?” 

You swap your phone to your opposite hand, tucking your frozen fingers into your pocket and nod even though he can’t really see that from this far away, “I am, she’s my best friend, I should have just told her.” 

“I don’t think either one of us knows what we’re doing,” He reminds you, “and that’s okay.” 

“Mm,” You sigh, a heavy cloud of vapor blooming in the icy air, “I do know one thing,” 

“What’s that?” 

Your stomach flutters nervously, but you press on, “I haven’t felt this happy or this cared for in a long time,” 

He’s quiet for a moment, and then you hear his breath, “I feel the same way,” 

“I just want to be on the plane now,” You admit, “at least then we’d be almost home,” 

“Well,” He says, “don’t wish for it too soon,” 

“What do you,” You start to say but he swiftly cuts back in. 

“Look to your left, sweetheart,” He says warmly.

Your head snaps up, and you turn only to have the breath knocked out of you by this city yet again. There, across the river and beyond a large bridge in the distance is the Eiffel Tower, standing golden against the night sky. 

“Oh,” You breathe. 

“Wait for it,” He murmurs.

“What did you do?” You can’t stop yourself from grinning like a fool, but you expect that’s a common experience for tourists in love in this city. 

“I didn’t do anything,” He laughs, “I just got the timing right, just wait,” 

You step closer to the wide bridge, ornate with golden statues and arched to offer ferry boats passage underneath. All the while you keep your eyes locked to the tower, and blink away the dust of snow collecting on your eyelashes. 

“Yunho,” 

“Just,” He starts to say, his voice getting far away as if he moved the phone, “another minute,” 

You tuck your scarf up around your face and wait, and then it starts to glitter. Blocks away but still standing tall before you in the distance, the golden monument starts to sparkle with the fast flicker of silvery lights.

“Oh,” You breathe, “I didn’t think I’d see it,” 

“Mhm,” He murmurs, “you might have mentioned it in London,” 

“Did I?” You can’t tear your eyes away. 

“I’m sorry I can’t take you there properly,” He confesses, “or anywhere properly yet, but, someday I will,” 

The glittering stops and you finally look away to try and find him again across the bridge, only he’s closer now and walking directly along your side of the bridge towards you. Your feet are moving before you can convince yourself otherwise, a magnetic pull straight to him. 

The bridge is thankfully quiet, barely anyone on either side, and you both stop in the middle, both of your phones tucked into your respective pockets. 

“Hi,” His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles beneath his mask. 

“Hey,” You sigh, “should we be doing this?” 

“No one’s here,” He says, stepping closer, “just one minute,” 

You nod, “One minute,” 

“Listen,” He says, his hand brushing against yours again, “I know you’re scared. I’m scared too,” 

Your heartbeat quickens.

“But we are almost home,” He says, “and once we’re there, we will make a plan. We will make this work, and I promise you, I’m more afraid of losing you than of losing all this,” he gestures towards the city around you. 

“There’s got to be a way, other people who have done this,” You nod. 

“We’ll find out,” He assures you, “just please, don’t pull away from me when things get hard or if you’re afraid. You can rely on me, you can trust me, I swear to you, y/n.” 

You can feel the nervous knot in his chest, and you step close, resting a hand where you know his soulmark loops on his chest. When you let yourself feel him, focus on him, it’s clear to you just how anxious about your growing relationship he’s been. Soulmates or not you still have to walk the path together, and of the two of you, you’ve been less clear. His gestures, his gifts, the way he’s tried his best over the past few weeks to show you his true feelings and intentions, but you haven’t given him enough back to soothe that knot in his chest. 

“Baby,” The endearment slips out and you feel him soften under your touch, “I’m here, I’m with you. I’m so fucking terrified, but not of you or of this.” 

Snow sticks to his lashes, swirls in the air around you, but his exhale of ragged breath isn’t the cold, it’s relief. 

“I’m worried I’m going to fuck it up somehow, of what will happen when people find out,” You confess, “and I’m so scared you’ll wake up one day and realize I wasn’t worth the mess,” 

“y/n,” He shakes his head, reaching for your cheek. 

“I know, I know,” You catch his hand against your face, press a fast kiss to his palm through the fabric of your mask, “it’s just a fear, I just want you to understand where my head has been,” 

He nods, a little crease between his brows. 

“But I do trust you,” You tell him, “more than anyone, and I’ve been alone a long time, so I’m learning how to let myself rely on you, but I’ve never doubted you. Not before and definitely not now,” 

“Come here,” He tucks your bodies together and tugs his mask down, “kiss me,” 

You pull yours away, and you press up on your tiptoes to meet his eager mouth.

His nose is cold, and his fingers are icy against your cheek, but his lips are warm and soft and his broad body blocks the gust of wind and snow. 

The knot of anxiety in his chest starts to ease, and you brush your fingers over his mark to seal your own promise back to him. 

“Sweetheart, I,” He sighs, kissing you once more, letting his words fade on his tongue, “thank you.” 

“I’m sorry I haven’t said it like that before,” You say, “but I’m here,” 

He nods, a soft smile on his mouth, and he leans over to kiss you once more in the snowy Paris street, the golden glow of the Eiffel tower still in your periphery. 

When he pulls back, he rights his mask and you follow his lead, “It’s cold, let’s get back inside,” he says. 

You can barely feel it, but you nod, “Okay,” 

“Call me again,” He squeezes your hand once and then lets it drop, “I’ll walk you back,” 

You smile, finding your phone and dialing him. 

Yunho pulls his phone out, and starts to walk back across the bridge, but then he picks up, “Hello?” 

“Hey, again,” You walk backwards slowly, watching him as he tucks the phone closer to his ear. 

“Hi,” He says warmly, and then he turns to catch sight of you when he says, “I just met the prettiest girl in Paris,” 

Butterflies roll through you, “Oh, yeah?” 

“Mhm,” He murmurs, “I think I’m falling for her,” 

Easy warmth spreads through your chest despite the chill, “That’s so funny,” you tell him as you turn to round the corner of the bridge again, “I just met this guy,” 

He laughs, and slowly you make your way back to the hotel. The conversation comes more easily now, the lingering threads of any tension dissipating with the wind. You talk about everything and nothing, how to tell the members and what you’re planning to have for coffee in the morning, and by the time you’re at the hotel the snow has slowed to a stop and the streets are empty except for you both, two long-distance lovers across the Seine. 

───────────────────────── ✧₊⁺───────────────────────

The final day in Paris passes by in a blur just like the plane home. It’s always like this after a tour, the absolute exhaustion after weeks of adrenaline and travel, but this time all you want is to be home and it feels like you’re doing the epitome of just going through the motions to get there. 

Yunho had texted you to sleep well on the flight, and you did, only to be shaken awake hours and hours later by Iseul when you were preparing to land. You had only woken up for one of the flight meals and a quick bathroom break, but now as you descend into Incheon you’re itching to get out of the seat more than you normally would be.

 Home. 

You can see it out the window, but you can feel it too.

Up until this moment, everything with you and Yunho had been on a delay, the reality of what you were to each other only something to fully reckon with after the tour, and now here you were. 

Your fingers start to nervously drum against your knee as you prepare for landing, your heart picking up as you touch down, your leg bouncing in anticipation while the plane takes its time taxing to the gate. 

Iseul gives your hand a squeeze when you finally make it off the plane and into the interior of the airport, only this time it’s not to calm your nerves, it's to remind you that you have a role to play. Today the crowd is thick, rows and rows of screaming, clawing girls and you feel your heart rate pick up immediately. They’re not here for you, they could honestly care less about you, but you still have to make your way through them as quickly and painlessly as possible. 

The support staff is always split, half in front of the boys and half behind, an extra layer of bodies between them and the hands that so badly want to touch them. Girls that want their one moment, a quick press of skin on skin, seeking a confirmation of the bond they’re so convinced exists between them and their bias. It’s never bothered you before, just a hazard of being famous, but now you can’t help but feel like they know. One look at you and they can see right through all the careful lies, they can see your tattoo and his, a string knotted from your ribs to his, and you think they might kill you for it. It wouldn’t be the first time a deranged fan took things too far, and your stomach churns with every step as you leave the relative safety of the main gate. 

Getting from the plane to the cars is a well oiled production. You’re used to sticking close to your team and a set of the support staff, head down, hat low, moving swiftly. There’s not much you can do about it unless you happen to be on a different flight, which has happened a time or two while you’ve been working with Ateez but it’s rare. 

For weeks since you first felt the link between you and Yunho, you’ve been able to feel some echo of his emotions through the connection, but as you file off the plane and group up to start working through the crowd, the sensation of him goes quiet. You’ve seen the members as they walk, a crafted persona of friendliness over the full disassociation, but you never expected to feel some shadow of that yourself. Your nerves are swirling, but you take a few slow and steadying breaths, and alongside Iseul and the rest of your coworkers, you start walking. 

It should be quick, it should be painless, but it isn’t. 

Halfway to the doors, a body breaks through the guards to your side, making a desperate beeline for one of the boys behind you, the girl’s face streaked with tears and hands outstretched, her shoulder checking yours hard as she pushes her way through into the interior circle. 

You stumble hard, footing unsure on the slick linoleum, your heart pounding suddenly in your chest. 

You make a tight noise of surprise, hand outstretched to brace your fall as you collapse hard onto your left knee. Bodies bump into you on all sides, stumbling to not knock you over and trample you, but you still struggle to get your feet under you. 

It’s loud in here, the sudden sound of fans and bodyguards, but you feel a spike of alarm shoot through your gut as he comes back online and reacts to your fall. You can’t turn around, but you feel him, and then all at once there’s hands hooking under your arms and you’re stumbling back up to your feet. 

Yunho’s several paces back behind you, layers of bodies away, but despite that he lurches forwards, forgetting himself in the fray. There’s no cameras, no crowd, no thought of familiarity in his mind, only the singular truth that his soulmark is hurt and the need to get to you is all encompassing. A hard hand locks down on his bicep, another on his opposite shoulder. He has half a mind to throw whoever has him off, and then reality clicks back into place.

He watches as Iseul and one of the other managers hauls you back up to your feet while the bodyguards close ranks and remove the cloying girl. 

San, his hand still locked around Yunho’s arm, leans in tight to his ear, “She’s fine, don’t.” 

“You don’t,” Yunho starts to say but Seonghwa claps him on the shoulder again, squeezing him and trying to silently remind him the stakes here. 

“Look,” San urges him as they keep moving, “she’s up, use your head.” 

He focuses, and he watches the way you walk. Iseul is still pinned to your side but you’re not injured, just keeping your head down. He takes a tight breath and focuses on the feeling of the link, searching for your emotions under the bubbling rush of his own. 

Seonghwa’s hand falls away as the group makes it closer to the door, but San stays steady bracing Yunho’s bicep.

Yunho blinks and focuses, and then he feels you. Your own heart is beating fast, a blanket of anxiety mixed with discomfort and blushing embarrassment. There’s no fear though, no pain, and he shudders a sigh in relief. 

This kind of connection with another person is so singular and so maddening. He’s always cared for you, he would have wanted to help even if you weren’t his soulmate, but knowing that you are and feeling it all has him ready to tear the world apart for your smallest needs. He can understand now with perfect clarity why companies are so protective of skin on skin contact with their artists, why there’s no room for exceptions until positions are far more established. A young man with a soulmarked bond would ruin every scrap of his own career if it meant he could touch her, hold her, have her for just a moment. 

“Breathe,” San bids him, “you’re staring,” 

Yunho rips his eyes away from your back and looks to San, “It’s too much,” 

San gives him a wide, idol smile and shakes his head, “Cameras, Yunho,” 

He blinks and refocuses, finding his own photogenic smile and nodding towards the crowd. He waves, he nods, he does all the things a good little idol would do. 

Warmth brushes over his chest, the feeling of your fingers along the loops of your tattoo and the tight fist around his heart loosens, breath finally filling his lungs the right way. Silently, you’ve told him you’re safe, you’re well. He can breathe. 

You’re in separate cars though, and as you climb into the SUV with the rest of the makeup and hair staff, your hands start to shake. 

“You okay?” Iseul finally asks as the doors close. 

“Mm,” You sigh, leaning back into the soft seat, “I hate those crowds,” 

She nods, “Security should have never let that girl get through,” 

“She just pushed me aside,” You rub your tired eyes, “I can’t even believe someone would be that unhinged,” 

“Mhm,” Iseul rolls her eyes, “well, when it’s her one chance to see if her precious Yunho-ya is her star crossed soulmate,” 

A flicker of jealous anger sparks in your gut, “Is that who she was after?”

“Yeah,” A look of disgust passes over her face, “as if fate would actually match up an idol and a saesang, get real.” 

You laugh, and someone else makes a comment about how cruel it would be if that actually happened, but you and Iseul are sharing a private look. Of course none of those girls are his soulmark, not when you’re sitting right here. 

You shiver, you can’t stop thinking about the girl’s tear streaked face as she shoved you to the side. What would a fan like that think about you being her bias’s soulmate? You don’t even want to know. 

The car pulls away, and you feel your phone start to buzz in your pocket. You fish it out and keep it close so no one next to you can see the screen. 

Your body melts at the message. 

Are you hurt, jagiya? 

You tap out a quick reply, needing to not keep him waiting - I’m alright, it just startled me. 

Bubbles pop up immediately as he types - I’ll have a talk with security, there’s no reason for staff to be that close to the fans like that. Too risky. 

You’re in love with him already, it’s impossible not to be when he talks like this. You smile and write back - Don’t, we shouldn’t draw any attention. But it means a lot that you were worried about me. 

Of course I worry - His first message flies in, and then another - I felt you fall, I nearly ran to get to you. 

I’m glad you didn’t. We really can’t give anyone a reason to question things. 

I know. But I wanted to, I never want anything to keep me from you when you need me. 

Jeong Yunho…. - You write back, butterflies in your belly at his words - Are you trying to make me like you?

I thought we covered this, you don’t already like me? - You feel his warmth through the bond and you know he’s teasing. 

You know I do. - If you said more you’d probably reveal how far in this you already are after a few weeks of a bond. 

It takes a moment for him to respond, but when he does your cheeks heat - I’ll have to work harder then, to make sure you feel as strongly as I do.

Your mark warms, a punctuated touch of his heart to yours. 

Before you can reply he sends another message - You promise you’re not hurt at all? 

Embarrassed mostly, and my knee hurts a little, but I promise it’s nothing serious, I wouldn’t lie to you. - You reply, touching your mark gently with your fingers to send back the same warmth, the same truth of your words. 

When can I see you? I don’t think I can go days until our next schedule. 

Tonight? You can’t help yourself. 

Where? 

Your stomach flutters at the thought of being alone with him again - My place? I live alone in Seongsu. It’s nothing special, but it’s private and it’s home. 

Text me the address, I’ll find a way over. 

You tap out your address and send it through - Please don’t get in trouble trying to come by.

I won’t - He replies instantly.

  Iseul’s hand gently touches your knee and you look back up at her, “What’s up?” 

“You want a ride home from the office?” She asks, eyes flicking down at your phone briefly. 

“You don’t mind?” You ask. 

She shakes her head, “You’re on the way,” 

You nod, pulling your phone back out to send him a message - Iseul’s driving me home when we get to the office. Are you going to your apartment now?

Yes - He replies - Yeosang keeps yawning, when our managers leave and he goes to bed I’ll come by.

Aren’t you tired too? - You ask him. 

I slept on the plane - He replies, and then another message comes through - If you’re tired you can sleep, I just need to be with you right now.

I slept too - You assure him - I’ll be up. Just message me when you’re close.

I will - He says. 

You send him one last bit of instruction, a little safer if he can let himself into your place just in case anyone sees him coming by - It’s apartment 26B, Door Code is 10824*

He sends a heart in reply, and you tuck your phone back into your lap. 

Soon, you’d finally be alone. After weeks and weeks of waiting, the ache in your chest would finally be soothed.  

Even after Iseul drops you off at home, it takes him hours. By the time you get a message that he’s on his way you’ve nervously cleaned your tiny apartment three times over and ordered far too much take out just to be sure he has something to eat if he hasn’t gotten anything already. 

When you hear him keying your door code in, your heart starts to beat double time. 

He slips in quietly, dressed in a dark gray long coat, black ball cap, and black face mask, and if you didn’t know him just from the cut of his shoulders you could have easily mistaken him for just about anyone in a crowd. 

“Hey,” You feel at ease immediately, and he looks up at the sound of your voice. 

Your apartment amounts to a double wide hallway, your lofted bed above the entryway and bathroom, a small galley kitchenette along one wall, built-in storage and a desk, and then an extremely modest living space. The sight of him in your apartment is strange, he’s so tall he seems to fill up the space of the entryway, a surreal sight now that you’re home and not in random hotel rooms. 

He kicks off his shoes to leave them by the door, and then he steps up into your apartment as he pulls his mask off, crossing the room in three easy strides to get to you. 

“Hey,” He replies, his cold hands cupping your cheeks as he gets close, “there you are,” 

“Here I am,” You smile, stepping closer to him and relaxing into his touch.

 “I,” He shakes his head and his words falter a little, “I know you said you’re fine, I just… it’s nice to see for myself, I couldn’t shake that feeling,” 

You soften at that, “Oh, Yunho, I’m okay,” 

“I know,” He sighs, “I’m sorry it took me so long,” 

“It’s alright,” You slide your hands into his jacket and rest your hands on his chest, “you’re here now,” 

He folds you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you properly and cupping the back of your head with his broad hand, “I’m so glad to be home,” 

Your heart flutters, “The tour felt like years,” you murmur, nuzzling into his chest. 

“Mm,” He sighs, his body melting around you, “our managers wanted to talk about the upcoming week, and Hongjoong had schedule changes, and then Yeosang wouldn’t go to bed, he kept sitting in the living room, I thought I was going to scream,” 

”It’s fine,” You smile against his sweater, “do you have a schedule tomorrow, then?” 

“No,” He unfolds himself from around you, pulling his cap free and running a hand through his messy locks, “I’m off, I don’t have anywhere to be.” 

Warmth fills you, “For how many days?” 

“Three,” He grins. 

“Me too,”  

“Any plans?” He drops his hat and mask down onto your side table where your own keys and gloves are and steps close again.

”None,” You murmur, “sleeping,” 

“Want some company?” He wraps his hand around yours. 

“For three days?” Your eyes widen, “There’s no way you can get away for that long,” 

“I worked it out,” He says, “waiting for Yeosang to get tired,” 

“Okay,” You don’t want to let yourself be excited too soon. 

“I’ll have to go back and pick up a few things,” He tells you, “but I told my manager that my brother might be coming up to town to see me after tour,” 

“Okay,” 

”And that I might drive down to Gwangju with him,” He smiles wider, “and that he could drop me back off before schedules pick back up.” 

“Really?” Your hand tightens on his.

”Really,” He nods, “if you want me here, I’m here.” 

For a split second you feel like you could cry, relief washing through you, and you dive forward to wrap your arms around his neck, “Stay, please, stay,” 

He bends to accommodate your height difference, and ends up wrapping his arms around your back and lifting you in the air, “Good,” he sighs, “I hoped you’d say that,” 

“Yunho, thank you,” You pull back enough to find his face, “god, I missed you,” 

“Me too,” He confesses, “seeing you everyday but not really seeing you, I don’t want to do that again,” 

“It’s so much harder than I thought it would be,” 

He nods and gives you a soft smile, “We made it, though,” 

“Yeah,” 

He dips in and presses his lips to yours, and the last threads of tension unravel, everything else forgotten with his body so close to yours. Yunho sighs pleasantly, pressing close lipped, familiar kisses to your lips, before setting you back down on your feet and straightening back up to his full height. 

Your hearts feel like they’re in sync. 

He smiles at you again, and then finally glances around to take in the space around him, “Oh,” he says as he takes it in, “I like your place,” 

“It’s small,” You shrug, “but it works for me,” 

“That view,” He nods towards your floor to ceiling glass window, truly the only selling point of the apartment, “that’s something.” 

You follow his eyes to the glittering city outside and nod, “It really is,” 

It’s quiet for a moment as he takes in the view, and then he sighs and looks back to you, “It feels nice to not have to rush away,” 

You nod, “I know,” 

You’re dancing around each other again, now that there’s no deadline hanging over your heads or threat that someone might walk by. You can simply exist. 

“I’ve got takeout,” You offer, making the first move, “if you’re hungry, but if not it’ll keep,” 

He smiles, “In a bit,” 

“Let me take your coat at least,” You stretch out a hand, “get comfortable,” 

He slides it off his shoulders and folds it as he hands it to you, “Thanks,” 

You find a home for his coat in the entryway nestled on a hook next to yours, his shoes already placed neatly side by side with your sneakers. It looks so right, your life against his, and you let your fingers skate down over the back of his coat as you take it in, a smile pulling at your lips. He belongs here, in every way, and for the next three days you’d pretend his presence in your apartment was permanent, solid and immutable in the way it feels in your heart. 

His coat, his shoes, and in a flash you see it all, flickers of a real life together. Toothbrushes, coffee cups, letters in the mail, his keys kissing yours in a dish by the door, books slotted together on the shelf, clothes tangled up in the laundry basket. 

Your chest aches with need, but he just walked into your apartment for the first time, so you shake off those thoughts and turn to him, “What did you have in mind for tonight?” 

“Honestly,” He grins, “being able to talk to you face to face is as far as I let myself get,” 

“Way better than texting,” You smile back, “you want a drink? Beer? Wine?” 

“Sure,” He nods, “Beer?” 

You nod and take the two steps into the kitchenette to locate glasses and two cans of beer, calling over your shoulder, “Make yourself comfortable, are you sure you’re not hungry?”

”I’m okay,” You hear him settle onto the couch and it occurs to you that you’ve never had a man in your apartment, at least in the sense of a romantic partner. For years you were going to their places, strangely protective of your own little haven between these four walls, and yet with Yunho you feel comfortable enough already not just to let him inside, but to give him your door code without a thought.  

You blink at the realization, almost letting his glass overflow onto the countertop as you pour. How strange the last few weeks have been, how different you already are. 

“How long have you lived here?” Yunho asks, and you let the thoughts about what it all means fade into the background as you turn towards him. 

“Um,” You do the math in your head, “a few years? Almost four now,” 

“It’s a great place,” He says again. 

You leave the two empty cans on the counter and cross the room towards him, “Yeah,” you nod, “It’s small, but it’s nice and accessible, and in this area anyways I really can’t beat the rent,” 

“Mm,” He nods, “I wish I could say I know what you mean, but idol life is strange.” 

“That’s right,” You nod, “you don’t pay for your place?” 

You settle onto the small couch next to him as he answers, “It’s part of our contract so it’s provided, but if we were to leave the group before contracts are up we’d owe the money back,” 

You grimace, “That’s terrible,” 

He nods but it’s with a slight shrug, “Some companies are worse, KQ being small has its benefits in other areas so that’s never been much of a concern for us,” 

“That’s good at least,” You nod, “and they treat us pretty well, all things considered.” 

“Did you ever work anywhere else?” Yunho takes a sip of beer and makes a noise of satisfaction at the flavor. 

You smile and tuck your legs under you, angling towards him on the couch, “After cosmetology school I worked at SM for about a year,” 

“And?” He asks. 

“Awful,” You groan, “The pay was terrible, and the schedules were worse. It felt like being an intern,” 

“And then you came to KQ?” 

You sip your beer, nodding as you do, “Iseul and I went to school together, she got me in as soon as a position opened up, really vouched for me considering I had a smaller portfolio than she did at the time,” 

“I’m glad she did,” He smiles warmly.

 “What about you?” You ask, “Was KQ your first choice?” 

He turns towards you on the couch, his knees pressed against yours and he rests one arm on the back of your couch, “Not initially,” he admits, “but I had two other competing offers, and something just didn’t feel right about either. Then I met Hongjoong, and I guess you know, that’s it,” 

“A little bit of fate,” You smile. 

“Mm,” He nods, “fate, maybe luck, I don’t care what it was, I’m just happy to be with you now,” 

Your cheeks heat a little, and you look down at the popping bubbles on the surface of your drink.

”I just wish it happened sooner,” He admits, his hand sliding over the cushions to touch your forearm. 

You nod and look back up, “I know what you mean, but, maybe that’s another thing fate got right, maybe we’re finally ready for each other now.” 

He laughs, “What was the word Iseul used? Skittish?” 

You sigh, “Yeah, she’s not totally wrong. I used to have terrible taste in guys, or maybe I wasn’t comfortable opening up, I don’t know, but,” 

Yunho gives your arm a gentle squeeze, “I get it,” 

You cock your head, asking him a silent question. 

“I’ve dated a bit,” He explains, “and I always thought maybe it was me, but no matter how nice or compatible someone was on paper it was just…” 

“Dull?” You offer. 

He nods, “Like I was sleepwalking through it,” 

Your stomach bubbles with a nervous thrill, your chest constricting with anticipation, “And with me?” 

His mouth turns up in a small smile, eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips and back again, “I’m more than awake with you.” 

“Me too,” You confess.

It’s quiet for a moment, Yunho’s thumb sweeping a soft line over the veins in your wrist, and then he exhales and drops his glass off on the table.

“Yun?” 

He smiles at the abbreviation of his name and takes your glass away too, “As much as I want to talk all night, and I do, I think I might actually die if I’m not touching you after all these weeks,” 

He reaches for you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you over to his half of the couch. You squeak in surprise, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest and another on the cushions, but you end up pressed up against him and almost laying across his chest. Your body relaxes into him instantly, and Yunho lets out a relieved sigh. This, this is what you had been waiting weeks and weeks to feel again, the sureness of his body under your fingertips, the way your heart seems to slow and soothe with every touch. 

 “Anyways,” His voice cracks a little, a soft smile on his face, “you were saying,” 

You’re nearly nose to nose, close enough to hear his breath, to feel the thump of his heart under your palm. His eyes flick over your face, his lips part, pupils dilating wider with every passing moment. 

You try to remember where you were in the conversation, but with him so close and his hot hands on you, it’s all like a distant memory and you laugh lightly, “I have no idea,” 

He grins, his hand brushing your face, the pad of his thumb tracing your cheekbone, and then without a single conscious thought you’re surging forwards to press your lips to his. 

Yunho groans, hands tightening on your back, and when he starts to kiss you back it’s like the catch of a match under your skin, a crackle of need through every nerve ending. He kisses you with unmasked urgency, pulling little pants and moans from your lips every time you break for a breath. 

His hands slide down, cupping your backside, and you hitch a leg over his as you push yourself higher on the couch, desperately seeking more of his hot mouth. 

“Baby,” He breathes between kisses, his tongue flicking against yours as your mouth opens to him.

 Your body rolls on instinct, pressing your clothed core against his thigh. 

He groans again, pulling your body tighter against him and shifting the position of his leg so that his foot is flat on the floor, providing a hard, stable straddle for you. 

You wish so badly in this moment you weren’t wearing jeans, uncomfortably stiff denim that doesn’t let you properly feel the heat of him, but that doesn’t stop you from rocking your body once, twice, and again as you pant against his mouth.

 His fingertips slip under the waistband of your jeans, resting on your lower back while his free hand wanders around to your front, sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb ghosting over your pebbled nipple. 

You feel dizzy, and you press back from his mouth to take a sharp inhale, “Ah, Yunho,” 

He shudders, cupping your neck and pulling you back to his mouth. Mumbled against your lips he offers, “We can talk more,” 

You shake your head, “You really want to talk, right now?” You smile, pushing yourself further onto his lap, nearly straddling him now as you dive back in for another heated kiss. 

He groans, his hands flexing as they find anchor points on your hips, and he tugs you right into place with your pelvis slotted right over his. One of his hands skims up the back of your shirt, hot skin on skin, and you moan pleasantly into his mouth. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He pants between wet kisses, “you’re killing me here,” 

“Yeah?” Your stomach flutters with butterflies. 

He hums a yes, tongue dipping into your mouth to catch on yours. 

You can’t stop the little whine that leaves your lips, “Oh,” you roll your hips, “Yunho,” 

His hips twitch under you, and you can feel the start of his erection as it hardens under your ass. 

“Please,” You kiss him again, pushing your hips down and clinging onto his shoulders. 

His hand snakes up higher under your shirt, and his fingers deftly close over the clasp of your bra. In a second he slides the fabric in just the right way to open the clasp, and you feel the support release as his hand slides up and down the bare expanse of your back. 

“Fuck,” He shudders, “I’m sorry, I should have asked,” 

“Shut up,” You dive back in, your fingers tugging at his sweater, “take this off,” 

He kisses you hard once more and then pulls back, and you lean away still perched on his lap while he awkwardly tugs off the sweater, tossing it to the other side of your couch. 

“Can I,” His hands slide under your shirt, circling your bare waist, his eyes tracking the way your shirt slides up, “Jesus, you’re gorgeous,” 

“Off,” You raise your arms and he slides his hands up, pushing the shirt up and over your head until he’s discarding it on the floor. 

When you look back down it nearly knocks the breath out of you. He’s staring at you like you’re a marvel, like you’re the eighth wonder of the world, and it draws your frantic pace to a blinding halt. He smiles softly, and his eyes skate down your body. Your bare neck, black bra straps loosely held on either shoulder, tattoos stretching down over your upper arms, over your elbows, stopping at mid forearm. The sheer mesh of your bra loosely cupping your breasts, nipples standing hard at attention through the fabric and the center of the underwire covering the top half of your red, looping soulmark. 

He reaches for you slowly this time, one hand sliding to the back of your neck while the other skims up and down your arm, “Can I?” He asks again, his fingers ghosting over the strap of your bra. 

You nod, breathless. 

He hooks his fingers under one side and pulls, letting the strap drop and the mesh cup falls slack. His adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and slowly he loosens the other strap, your bra falling away and landing in your laps. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest now, and your fingers tighten on the fabric of his crisp white t-shirt. 

“So beautiful, baby,” He sighs, looking back up to your eyes, “you’re so perfect,” 

You can’t find any words, the way he looks at you and touches you has you rooted to the spot. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He slides his hands over your skin, still stroking your back and sides. 

That snaps you back into reality, and you dip forwards to crash your mouth to his. 

His arms wrap around you as yours knot into his hair, both of you a panting mess as you cling to each other on your sofa. Your bodies move in sync, his hands pressing just right as you roll your hips, only this time you can feel the hot press of his cock on your cunt through layers of fabric and you both moan at the contact. 

“Yunho,” You exhale sharply, rocking again to try and catch more sensation. 

“Jesus,” He pants, his hands locking down harder. 

You shudder at the contact, and you’re about two seconds away from begging him to take you right here on the couch when he puts the brakes back on. 

His hand slides up to catch your cheek, pushing your hair back and drawing your face away from his so he can look up at you, “y/n,” he says, voice a little hoarse, “that time on the phone,” 

You nearly moan at the memory of your silent orgasm, his voice in your ear, but you manage to nod. 

“DId you,” He starts and then backtracks, “I mean, you didn’t mind, or I guess what I’m asking is you weren’t, you know, uncomfortable,” 

His cheeks are turning pink as he talks, and you have half a mind to let him muddle through the thought, but you want his mouth on yours again and you cut him off, “You mean the best orgasm I’ve had in years?” 

He blushes properly then, his ears a frighteningly dark shade of pink and he clears his throat, “So you liked it?” 

Warmth blooms in your chest and you smile, leaning closer to him, your fingers tangling into his hair again, “Yunho,” you murmur, “are you asking if you can boss me around a little?” 

You’re nose to nose again, and his eyes search yours, “A little,” he concedes. 

“Boss away,” You grin, pressing your lips back to his, but he shakes his head. 

“Slow down,” He catches your hands in his and closes them together, pulling you back from him. 

Your brow knits together, “I’m getting mixed messages,” you glance down at your bare chest.  

His eyes flick to your breasts and back up and he huffs a soft laugh, “Sorry,” he manages, “I just meant we should talk,” 

“So much talk with you,” You tease him lightly, “I think I liked the kissing,” 

“Think?” His eyebrow quirks but then he shakes his head, “You’re a flirt, you do a hell of a job distracting me,” 

“Distracting you from what?” 

He reaches up, brushing the pad of his thumb over your lips, “Stop pouting,” he says, “I’m trying to be respectful, here,” 

“I’m feeling pretty respected,” You slip one hand out of his grip and tug at his t-shirt, “kiss me again, let’s double check.” 

He laughs properly this time, shaking his head, “I don’t know if it’s a soulmate thing or a you thing, but God, you know all my buttons, already, don’t you?” 

“I’m confused,” You relax in his lap a little, arms folding over your chest to cover yourself, “we were making out and it was perfect and now,” 

He nods, “I know, let me explain,” 

You wait for him to say more, the soft silence his opening. 

“We know each other,” He finally says, “but I don’t know what you like in bed,” 

“Oh,” Your shoulders relax a little, “well, traditionally we would have sex and figure that out,”

He rolls his eyes at you a little, a smile still on his lips, “y/n,” 

“Sorry, sorry, go on,” 

His hands settle over your thighs, “Every time we touch it feels like a fire,” he confesses, “and I’m trying not to lose my mind before we have a chance to talk about any of the important things, I don’t want to cross a line, I don’t want you to feel rushed or uncomfortable with anything,” 

You sigh, about to say more but he shakes his head and continues. 

“Without talking I won’t know what you don’t want,” He says, “or even if you want tonight to be the night, if you’re on birth control or if we should use condoms,” 

The thought of that sparks a clarity in you like no other and you realize he’s right, you were both so close to losing yourselves you could have made a mistake of the whole night. You blink, nodding this time. 

“And I’m afraid if we keep going like this,” He continues, “if we go upstairs without talking, I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough to walk away without fucking you and making you mine tonight.” 

Your heart thumps in your chest. You’ve never been held like this, talked to like this, no one in your life has ever searched for your boundaries on their own quite like this, with sex or otherwise and you know suddenly with perfect truth what this night is going to be. 

You nod, and then you smile, “Can I talk now?” 

 “Please,” 

“I’m on birth control,” You start off with the easiest answer, “and I’ve been tested since my last partner, so as long as you have too we can go without condoms,” 

“I have,” He nods immediately, “it’s been a while and that’s part of our regular health screenings,” 

“Good,” You let your arms relax now, resting your hands on his shoulders as you keep going, “so that’s one thing cleared up,” 

He smiles. 

“As for the rest,” You hold his gaze, “I liked how you talked to me on the phone very much,” 

He swallows hard. 

“I’m pretty sure I know what you’re asking,” You let your thumb rub over the pulse point in his neck, “so let me be clear, I like that. I like that you want to take control, and I like that you want to tell me what to do. Very much.” 

He nods, “And,” 

“I’m not the type to do something I don’t want to,” You promise him, knowing it’s as much of a promise to yourself after everything you’ve experienced in past relationships, “if something isn’t right for me, I’ll say it.” 

His shoulders relax under your touch, “Good,” 

“My guess though,” You nudge him, “is that we’re pretty compatible if the universe thinks so too,” 

“I thought so,” He murmurs appreciatively. 

You lean a little closer to him, and his arms slide around your back to hold you as you muster up the courage for the next part of answers to his questions, “For what I like,” you start, “let’s figure out the details together.” 

He nods. 

“For what I don’t like,” You tell him softly, “um,” your voice cracks a little with nerves and discomfort, a tone you were hoping to conceal at least for tonight. 

He watches you fumble over the words, a little crease between his brows as he tries to parse out what’s behind your tone, his thumb dragging a comforting line over your vertebrae. 

You sigh heavily and tell him your boundaries in a rushed breath, “Don’t pull my hair too hard, and if I’m ever using my mouth on you, just tell me before you move, alright? We can figure the rest out as we go,” 

His expression smooths, and his eyes study yours with the start of a question. You didn’t want to go here, not for a while, but something about your connection with him or maybe even just his earnestness makes you tell him more than you ever normally would.

 Again, as he always seems to, he senses the sudden tension in your chest and simply nods before touching your cheek gently, “Anything else?” 

You shake your head. 

He watches you carefully, his touch soft, and then with easy comfort he finds a question, “Do you want to tell me?”

There’s no demand in it, no insistence, only the offer of an outstretched hand, a listening ear. The momentary tightness relaxes inside you and you shake your head, “Not tonight,” 

He wants to ask more, you can see it, but your past sexual experiences no matter how clumsy or good or borderline traumatic should have no space in your night here with him. He’s worried though, you can see that too. 

It’s quiet for a beat as you take that in, and he nudges you gently, “You okay?” 

“Mhm,” You nod, “I promise, but let’s not talk about it tonight,” 

“Alright,” He draws you close, a soft kiss to your lips. 

You return the kiss warmly, pressing the promise of later honesty into your intention and he nods, reading you with ease. 

“Yunho,” You murmur as you part, “I do want it to be tonight,” 

“You do?” He confirms, hand sliding up and down your bare back. 

“I want this,” You cup his cheek, “I want us, and I don’t want to wait anymore,” 

“Say that again,” He lets your words from a moment ago fade, focusing on what you’re telling him now. 

“I want this,” You pull at his t-shirt again, restless energy creeping its way back into your body. 

“Not that,” He dismisses, “the other thing,” 

You know just what he wants to hear, but you play dumb for just a moment, “I don’t want to wait anymore?” 

His hand tightens on your backside, “y/n,” 

“Us,” You smile, “I said I want us,” 

“That’s it,” He kisses your smile, “I like the sound of that,” 

“I want us.” You repeat for him, lips to his, “Now, please, will you take me to bed and make me yours? Or do I have to beg?” 

He groans, “Let’s go to bed,” 

“So easy,” You tease him, sliding off his lap and reaching for him. 

He pushes himself off the couch but slides his hand into yours and tugs you close again, “I’ll make you beg another time,” 

Your stomach flip flops, arousal spiking through you and he smirks at your dazed expression. 

“Cute,” He taps your nose and steps towards the stairs, “you’re sure?” 

You’re about to protest again, a heavy sigh brewing in your gut, but he clears his throat and continues. 

“On tour,” His eyes shift to the floor for a moment, “I know you were anxious about us, and we talked about waiting. I’ll… I know I want you, and I’m going to keep wanting you. I can wait if that’s what you need, we can date,” 

The one good thing about the tour and all your sleepless nights was how long you had to think about this, about him. Your initial panic and fear over logistics and what-ifs had faded in days. He’s here, standing in your apartment, so you trust your gut, and you trust fate, and decide for once in your life to let someone in. 

You step close and pull him towards you, “Yunho, I don’t want to date,” 

His eyes flick to yours, his irises dark, “You don’t,” 

“I said I want us,” You take his hands in yours and direct them to your hips, “I know what that means,” 

His eyes study yours for a moment, and then he sighs, “Good,” he pulls you up into his hold and crashes your lips together. 

This time there’s nothing between you, no schedules or secrets, no indecision or questions keeping you from letting go. With both eyes open you’re diving into each other, and nothing in the world could stop you from tying yourself to him tonight, body and soul. 

You feel him shift on the landing as you kiss, and you pant a single word against his mouth, “Bed,” 

He nods, stumbling up a few steps without breaking your lips apart, one of his hands secure on the railing to guide him upwards. 

You giggle as he tips to the side and rights himself, leaning back and looking down to see how far up he managed to get you both, “Let me down,” 

He eases you to your own step. 

“Get up here,” You tug his hand and take the familiar steps to your loft bed as quickly as you can, dragging him behind you the whole way. 

Once you hit the landing you take your hand back and start unbuttoning your jeans, but you stop at the sound of a soft thump and Yunho’s soft curse under his breath. 

Turning you realize the issue, he’s too tall for your landing’s slanted ceiling, and he must have bumped his head on the way up to your bedroom. You laugh sharply, covering your lips to stifle the sound, “Sorry,” you grin, “are you okay?” 

“Fine,” He rubs the spot, but shakes it off. 

You turn back to the bed and tug the downy comforter open, “You’re too tall, when we get our own place we’ll get high ceilings,”

Something warm floods your chest and then he’s on you again. Yunho spins you around and dips to kiss you, only this time there’s an edge to it, a neediness. He walks you back until your knees hit the edge of the mattress, and then he wraps his arms around you and pushes you down in one smooth motion. 

Yunho slots himself between your thighs, and you hitch your legs onto his hips as he presses you into the mattress with hungrier and hungrier kisses. 

His lips travel over your jaw, your throat, “You said when,” 

“Hmm?” Your brain feels cottony and light already and you turn your head just a little to hear him again. 

His hand drags down to the top of your jeans, tugging at the zipper, “You said when, not if,” 

“Yunho,” You smile, gasping as his teeth nip at your throat, “we’re about to tie ourselves together for life, did you think I haven’t thought about living with you?” 

He groans, “You’re perfect,” 

You thread your fingers through his hair, “So are you,” 

He tugs artlessly at the top of your pants and sighs, “Need these off,” 

“Take them off me,” You relax your legs, and he shifts back to stand, looping his thumbs in your belt loops so that when he tugs your jeans, they slide off in one smooth motion and drop to the floor. 

“Oh,” He says softly, getting a good look at your now bare legs and the lines of ink that cover so many inches of your skin, “wow,” 

You’ve never been self conscious about your tattoos before, not like this, and you find yourself letting your legs fall closed, “Oh?” 

”I didn’t realize you had more,” He comments but his expression softens into a smile, “they suit you,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mm,” His hands slide up and down the plush curve of your thighs, “later you can tell me all about them,” 

Your stomach flips pleasantly. 

“Right now though,” He pushes your legs back open and drops back over you, slotting your bodies together and capturing your lips. 

You sigh pleasantly against his lips, wrapping your limbs around him and drawing him closer, and when his hips drop just enough for your core to press firmly against the front of his jeans you moan. 

Yunho groans, his hands wandering. 

You roll your hips, pressing yourself more firmly against the hard bulge of his clothed cock, “S-shirt off,” you pant, tugging at the fabric. 

He reaches back with one hand and grabs the back of his t-shirt and tugs, yanking it free with ease with only the briefest interruptions to your locked lips. When he presses closer to you this time, your bare chest is pressed against his. 

Your brain feels like dizzy stars, like someone picked you up and turned you around in endless circles until you couldn’t help but stagger in his direction, falling over yourself to hold onto him. His hips thrust gently, pushing his hardness insistently at your cunt and you moan into his mouth, your hot breath mingling together in panting sighs. 

“Yunho,” You whine, your core pulsating with need. 

“Yes, pretty girl?” He smiles against your lips, his hand skimming over the curve of your breast, down your side to anchor on your hip. 

You can’t wait anymore, if you do you might combust, and you reach between your bodies to tug at his belt buckle. 

He huffs a laugh, “Yeah?” 

“Please,” You work the leather loop free, “I’m way more naked than you,” 

“Patience,” He nips at your lip. 

His button is open with a frantic tug of your fingers, then his zipper, “I’ve been patient,” you push at his jeans, “baby, please, I need you,” 

“I need you too,” He balances himself on one hand braced on the bed, shimmying out of his pants, and you hook your fingers in the elastic of his boxer briefs to push at those too. 

“Please,” You find yourself begging so easily at the thought of this man pushing inside you. 

“Relax,” He kisses your forehead, tapping your hand out of the way so he can take off his own underwear, “I got it,” 

You ease back on the bed, but between the space of your bodies you watch him. Your mouth runs dry when he’s finally bare for you, and your heartbeat starts to pick up. 

The size of him is intimidating to say the least. He’s long, at least nine or ten inches if you were guessing, but what’s more is how thick he is. His cock is heavy, the kind you’d see in porn and wonder how the women on screen could take it. You can see every vein, the way it stands perfectly straight, the velvety mushroom head already dark pink and slick with the first few beads of precum. 

Yunho settles back above you, his hot, thick length resting on the top of your pubic mound, only the thin cotton of your panties keeping you from feeling him fully. 

”God,” You breathe, still taking him in, “I hope you’re good at foreplay,” 

He squeezes your hip, “We’ll take it slow,” 

You nod, still fixated on the sight of him between your legs, and you try not to think about how far up your stomach his cock comes and what that means for when he tries to put it inside you. Instead you focus on the fact that he’s yours, “We were made for each other right?” You joke softly, “I can take you,” 

He smooths your hair back and tilts your head up, finding your eyes, “We’ll go slow,” he reiterates, “have you ever been with someone my size? Or used any toys like that?” 

For all the sex you’ve had, his question makes you feel a bit like a blushing virgin and you shake your head. 

Something flashes in his eyes, and you feel the twitch of his cock against you. 

“You like that?” You bite the inside of your lip to keep from teasing him too much. 

He brushes past your question, “Let me warm you up,” 

Easy relief blooms in your chest, your muscles starting to relax, and he settles his body over you properly to take you right back into a tender kiss. You can feel him hard and present between you, but he distracts you with open mouthed kisses, his hands exploring you slowly until your hips are twitching on their own. 

You’re dripping wet, there’s no way you’re not soaking through the thin fabric of your panties, but his kisses continue like that’s the last thought in his mind. He makes his way across your jaw, sliding lower down your body as he lavishes attention on your neck, over the jut of your collarbones, across the smooth plane of your chest and tops of your breasts. 

“Oh, yes,” Your voice is breathy as he slides even lower in the bed between your thighs, his mouth skimming over the swell of your tits, ghosting past your nipples. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He murmurs, hands cupping your chest and drawing your breasts together, his teeth sink into his lower lip at the sight. 

“Y-yeah?” Your hips arch beneath him, “You like me?” 

A smile tugs at his lips, one hand sliding up to your cheek as he looks up, “I more than like you, y/n,” 

Your breath is caught in your throat, your heart quickening in your chest. 

Yunho smiles a little at that, feeling the echo of your emotions himself, and then he dips his face to kiss your chest again. This time his lips travel in a smooth, reverent line down your sternum until you feel his breath against your looped tattoo. 

Pleasure sparks inside you and you moan softly, one of your hands threading into the back of his hair. 

He hums pleasantly, and then kisses your mark. 

“Yunho,” You sigh, heat flooding your body. 

He kisses you again, pressing a peck to each of the four corners of the knotted diamond, before centering another again and pouring every ounce of his feeling into it through the link. This time, he murmurs what you already know against your skin, “I love you,” 

Tears gather in your eyes, the feeling spilling over into you so all encompassing that it fells you. You tremble in his arms, your eyes locked to the white ceiling above you as you try desperately to steady yourself in the wave of emotion and sensation. 

His kisses start to travel lower, and your fingers card through his hair, “Y-Yunho, I,” 

“Shh,” He shakes his head, lips moving down over your belly as he shifts lower, “just relax,” 

A little piece of you wants to protest, wants to tell him that you love him too, but he settles between your thighs and slides your legs open wider to accommodate his broad shoulders, and every coherent thought flutters right out of your brain. 

Yunho kisses your inner thigh, easing himself into the perfect position, and then he wraps his arms around your hips under your splayed thighs, one hand braced on your rib cage and the other closing over your abdomen. 

His nose gently, gently nuzzles against your clothed mound and you hear him breathe you in. 

You shudder, moaning softly, your hand finding his hair once again. 

“I’ll take good care of you,” He murmurs low, kissing your cunt, “I love you so much,” 

“Oh,” Your breath catches as he tastes you through the fabric of you underwear, “p-please,” 

His hand on your abdomen shifts, and he reaches between your thighs to tug your underwear to one side, hooking it under his thumb to hold it in place. You gasp as his warm breath caresses your slit, your hand sliding to brace his shoulder. 

“I got you,” He soothes you, his free hand sliding up and down on your ribs, “I promise,” 

A needy sound stutters from your throat. 

At the first swipe of his tongue through your slick folds, Yunho groans and you start to tremble properly in his hold. It feels like liquid fire, better than any touch you’ve ever felt, partner, toy, or or own fingers. Yunho’s lips, his tongue, each little brush of his fingers, every bit of him feels like it was divined for you, and you won’t last a minute. 

“Feel good?” He checks, sliding his tongue through your lower lips again. 

“Incredible,” You pant, your hips canting to try and catch more sensation, “I, I c-can’t,” 

He chuckles, the vibrations running straight up your body, “You taste like heaven, baby,” 

Moaning, you grip down on his shoulder. 

“Mm,” He dives in properly, nestling close and all but kissing your cunt, “god,” 

His tongue drives any coherent thoughts out of your head as he gets the feel for your body, the firm tip sliding over your clit and making you jolt under his hands. 

“Y-yes,” You manage, nodding into the pillows. 

“Here?” He breathes, flicking your swollen clit again. 

“Oh, yes, god,” You grip the sheets. 

He hums, his hands tightening on your skin, and then he closes his lips over your bud and sucks. 

“Oh!” You arch back, hand flying up to catch his head and brace yourself, “Fuck, fuck,” 

He stays steady this time, sucking and lapping at you in a perfect rhythm, holding you in place as he finds the perfect combination to have you scrambling in the sheets. 

“Baby,” You moan, the word turning into a heady whine. 

He groans against you, dragging you tighter to his mouth with a flex of his arms. Your head spins as you slide down the mattress, a bubble of taut pleasure building inside you fast and hot. 

“Please,” You moan, your back arching as he delivers a sharp suck. 

His broad hand slides up from its place anchored on your side to cup your breast, and you look down to watch him move. His fingers deftly find your nipple, twisting and pinching gently, and as he takes a breath between licks and sucks to your dripping cunt, his eyes flash up and meet yours. 

A smile flicks across his wet face, and your eyes roll as you collapse back into the bedding to let him work. 

“That’s it,” He huffs as he sucks in another breath, tongue diving back inside you, pulsing and thrusting. 

Your thighs start to shake, your body jerks on its own, and he finds the perfect tempo to take you through - his thumb swiping sharply over your nipple back and forth, his mouth working you up higher and higher with a sustained pressure. 

The bubble of pleasure arcs up your spine and then settles back down, low in your belly, and you gasp sharply, “God, oh, god,” 

He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t change a single thing, he stays steady and that brings you right up to the very edge. 

“I’m,” Your eyes snap shut, your body shuddering, “I’m, c-coming, Yunho, I’m… baby, I’m,” 

He moans through your babbled pleas, and then you break apart beneath him. Your orgasm crashes into you like a wall of heat, and your body wrenches up tight into fits and starts, legs snapping shut around his ears, fingers knotted in his hair, your free hand braced on the wall behind you as your body jerks itself in rolling grinds against his eager mouth. 

He eases you through it, transitioning from sucks to lazy licks with the flat of his tongue, until you’re boneless and melted under him, your legs falling slack open as your eyes stay unfocused on the ceiling. 

“Okay,” His low voice comes back to you, and you feel his hands smoothing over your trembling thighs, a kiss to your knee, “that’s it,” 

A shiver runs through you, your body suddenly cold at the lack of contact and you take in a sharp breath. 

“I got you,” He shifts over your legs, crawling up the bed so he can collapse along your one side, and he wraps you up in his arm. 

His cheeks are pleasantly pink, hair a chaotic haystack, his mouth is still glistening from your slick wetness, and he grins down at you breathlessly, “Hey,” 

“H-hi,” You sigh. 

“Feeling good?” He cups your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. 

You nod, relaxing into his touch, “Mhm,” 

“Good,” He presses a warm kiss to your forehead and draws you into him to let you recover. 

You melt into his touch, cheek to chest. 

Yunho brushes his fingers up and down your spine and gets his own breath back. 

After a few more moments, you sigh, shaking out the post-orgasm haze and kiss his skin, “I’d say I’m warmed up now,” 

He huffs a laugh into your hair, “Eager,” 

“Aren’t you?” Your hand slides over his bare side. 

“I am,” He squeezes you.

Feeling starts to come back into your body and you smile, wriggling in his arms until you’re in a better position and able to follow his earlier lead. You nip gently at his chest and pepper him with kisses, and you smile when you hear his contented sigh and pleased hum. His fingers slide up and down your back as you try to give him a taste of every sensation he gave to you. 

At his mark, you follow his kisses exactly, and you feel him twitch, his hard length pressing into your belly where you have his cock trapped between your bodies. 

You linger here a moment, “You feel that?” 

At your punctuated kiss against his soul mark he sighs, “I can feel you,” 

You nod, nuzzling into him, “You’re mine,” 

“Completely,” 

“I’m yours,” You murmur, promising him the same. 

“Mine,” He breathes. 

Your kisses travel lower as you work your way down the smooth plane of his abdomen, his muscles twitching under your lips, but as you settle yourself over his hips and work your mouth closer and closer to the base of his cock he shifts under you. 

“Hey,” He catches your hands, closing them in his own, “I’m fine,” 

“I want to,” You smile, a tender kiss to the underside of his shaft before you let your tongue trace up the seam of his thick member. 

He gasps, hips twitching, but he shakes his head, “Wait, wait,” 

You pull back immediately and look up, a swirl of feelings knotting in your gut, “What?” 

He swallows hard and slides his hands up your arms, hooking under your upper arms so he can tug you back up to lie next to him eye to eye, “Not tonight,” 

“I want to make you feel good,” Your hand snakes between you, searching for him. 

“You do,” He sighs as your hand closes around him, “you are, but after what you said,” 

It feels like a bucket of cold water and your hand falls away from his cock. You hate your ex so much for being anywhere near your head at this moment with this man, but he is. He never hurt you, but the way he pressured you and pushed you into things you weren’t ready for has been an ever present shadow in your sex life even now, years and multiple partners later. 

Yunho kisses your lips and tries to keep his tone light, “Another time,” he tells you, “I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“It’s not,” You fumble over your words again, “it’s not bad, I’m alright, I want to,” 

He smiles and shakes his head, “I’d be more comfortable,” 

That takes the wind right out of your sails, and you sink into him, “Oh,” 

“You want to make me feel good?” He asks. 

You nod. 

His hand slides down your arm, drawing your own hand to his aching cock, and he closes your fingers around it, “Touch me, then, we’ll have time for the rest later,” 

He’s hot in your hand and you take in the weight of him as you slide your fist up and down to explore him. 

He groans, “Again,” 

You pump your hand once more, base to tip, rolling your wrist experimentally this time as you work his tip. Leaving any thoughts of the past behind, you focus on him entirely. 

“You’re s-so good at this already,” He sighs, “just like that,” 

Your bodies shift to accommodate, he cuddles you closer with one arm wrapped around you and your legs tangled together, and slowly you start to learn his body too. The way he twitches as your fist drops down to the base and squeezes, his gasp when your knuckle brushes up over the seam of his cockhead. His eyes blow wide when your thumb collects a bead of precum to rub up and down his shaft, and he moans when your fingers tighten and release. 

His free hand snakes between your bodies, finding your slippery center again like he’s been touching you for years. 

“Oh, Yunho,” You part your thighs. 

He groans, eyes slipping closed for a moment, “You’re so wet,” 

You moan as he slides his fingers lower, teasing your entrance with his fingertips. 

“Needy,” He murmurs. 

You do your best to focus on him, but the pressure of his fingers at your wet opening has you jerking your hips. Your hand tightens on his shaft and he sucks in a sharp breath, nodding. His cock feels so right in your hand, thick and pulsing, and you shiver, “I should have known you’d be huge,” you giggle against his shoulder. 

He smirks, “Yeah?” 

“You’re tall,” You start. 

He pulls his fingers back away from your pussy, dragging the pads of his fingertips over your clit as he does and you moan, a whiny needy sound from the center of your throat. 

“Not all tall guys,” He starts to say but you pump your hand just right and he curses. 

“Mm,” You slide closer to him if at all possible, “but you’re big everywhere,” 

You punctuate your words with a gentle tease of his cockhead, the pad of your thumb rubbing a circle into the seam that made him pant before, and he twitches, his eyes rolling. 

He swallows tightly and smiles, “Am I?” 

“Mhm,” You nip his chest lightly with your teeth, pumping your hand again nice and slow, “big feet, big hands…” 

“Been thinking a lot about my hands, sweetheart?” He teases, dragging his nails lightly up and down your thigh. 

“Shut up,” You duck your face, planning to double down your efforts on his cock, but he pushes your hand away and rolls you smoothly onto your back. You drop back with a squeak, your eyes flying up to his. 

“You have,” He teases, sliding his palm down your body, a slow and torturous pace on the path to your cunt once again. 

“Maybe,” 

”Fantasizing about my fingers?” His voice is low, warm in his chest, and he slowly presses his middle finger over your clit. 

“Oh, fuck,” Your head drops back, eyes finding the ceiling once again only this time Yunho makes a soft noise, his tongue against his teeth and he shakes his head. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” He murmurs, his fingers rocking gently over your swollen bud. 

You are a little, but there’s something in his tone that tells you he likes it and you think about the way his eyes flashed at the idea of being your first partner his size. With every little touch you’ve been figuring him out, and this suddenly feels like he’s allowing himself to want you in the way he needs. If he wasn’t so good at pressing all your buttons you’d try to tease him again, but when you meet his eyes and see the heat behind them, all you can do is melt. 

His next words leave you breathless, “I fantasize about you,” 

“Y-you do?”��

“All the time,” He nods, his hand between your thighs getting bolder as he explores your wet folds. 

“Please,” Your hips arch as the tips of his fingers pass over your entrance again. 

“Oh baby,” He groans, and you feel his hard cock twitch against your thigh, “you need it?” 

You nod, reaching down to find his wrist, tugging him to communicate while your head feels so full of fuzzy pleasure. 

“Fuck it,” He bites his lip as he looks down at you squirming in the sheets, “I’ll tease you later,” 

“Thank g-,” The words die on your lips, punched out of you when he slides two of his impossibly long fingers deep into your cunt in one push. 

He doesn’t wait for you to beg this time, with his eyes glued to your every expression, he reads your pleasure and starts to pulse his hand, pumping his fingers in and out of your fluttering core with strong, steady strokes. 

“Yes, yes,” Your legs widen, and you collapse into his shoulder, “oh my god,” 

His fingers feel thick and warm in your cunt, crooked just right to reach spots you could only hit with toys, and even then the feeling of those pale in comparison to him. 

“I knew you’d feel good,” He pushes your legs open wide with his free hand, “can’t wait to have you wrapped around my cock,” 

Pleasure arcs up your spine and you moan, your hand flying to his bicep and gripping down hard, “Fuck,” 

He presses a kiss to your shoulder as he adjusts his position and in torturously slow pumps of his hand, he starts to work you open. He scissors his fingers wide as draws them out, and when you feel him push in a third finger as deep as he can go, you shudder against the sheets. 

“So tight,” He murmurs, the words sounding like praise on his lips, “you’re squeezing my fingers, pretty girl,”

Your cunt clenches in response and he chuckles. 

“Exactly like that,” He smiles and thrusts his fingers in and out again, increasing his pace as your breath starts to quicken. 

“Y-Yunho,” You jerk against him, the bubble of a building orgasm once again gathering low in your gut and you scramble in the sheets until you’re legs are open as wide as possible, one leg hitched over his. You can’t stop watching him now, the lean muscle of his arm, the way the tendons in his forearm twitch with his movements. Pushing up on your forearms you catch sight of his index, middle, and ring fingers gathered tightly together, glistening with your wetness as they plunge in and out of your fluttering cunt. 

“So beautiful,” He groans, kissing your temple and wrapping his free arm around your back to adjust to the position change, giving his arm enough leverage that he can keep thrusting in and out. 

You moan at the heady sensation of his fingers at your g-spot, hips pushing down into his hand. 

“Want you to come again,” He says hotly against your hair.

 You nod, heels digging into the mattress as your body jerks, needily meeting each stroke of his fingers with your hips. 

“Tell me,” He says. 

“H-harder,” You beg him, sensation cascading through you, “harder, baby, please,” 

“God, yes,” He adjusts, and suddenly you’re pinned back to the mattress flat on your back, one of Yunho’s broad hands stretched wide on your sternum to pin you in place as he fucks you open with the other. 

Perfect, almost painful pleasure has your eyes slamming shut and a desperate whine on your lips, “Oh, oh, oh,” each push in of his fingers punches out a breathy moan, your pussy fluttering as he draws you up to the peak. 

“Tell me you’re close,” He pants, “I want to hear it,” 

Your nerve endings light up, your body arching under the hard press of his hand, “I’m so close, I’m so f-fucking close,” 

“Come for me, baby,” 

Your nails dig into his thigh, the pressure mounting inside you, “Again,” you manage, begging for more. 

His fingers curl, just a little more, “Come,” he says it again, only this time his tone is sharper, deeper and more direct. It’s not a question, not a wish or a hope, it’s a command. 

Your free hand claps over your mouth, stifling a moan and you bite down on the fleshy heel of your hand to keep from screaming. 

“Come,” He holds you steady, “that’s it, let go, let it all go, baby,” 

Your body erupts into ecstatic shakes, pleasure rolling through in wave after wave, but all you can do is let it. 

“Just like that,” He groans, “fuck yes,” 

This time, as your orgasm starts to abate, he doesn’t kiss you tenderly or wrap you up for a cuddle, this time he’s just as frantic as you are. 

“I need you,” He pants, his body over top of yours once again, “y/n, fuck,” 

You blink hard, still a trembling mess, and you see his own desperate expression. His cheeks are pink, brow slick with sweat, pupils dilated with desire as he opens your legs and crowds you with his body. 

“T-talk to me,” He manages, his hand directing his weeping cock to your throbbing entrance, “tell me you still want this,” 

“I want this,” You reach for him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him closer, “I want you,” 

“God,” He’s shaking, his body taut like a rubber band about to snap, and somewhere inside you you can feel the amount of self control he’s exhibiting just to go slowly. 

You moan sharply when his tip drags over your throbbing clit. 

“You’re so wet,” He pants, watching between your bodies as he slicks the head of his cock between your folds. 

“For you,” You breathe, your head feeling cottony. 

“So pretty,” The head of his cock nudges against your entrance and you shiver. 

Need sparks through you, “Please,” you tug at his hip, just a little and he smiles. 

“Tell me if I need to stop,” He manages, his weight collapsing a little as he slowly starts to push his hips forwards. 

You gasp as you start to feel him, your cunt still swollen and pulsing from two back to back orgasms, and his eyes snap up. 

Yunho watches your face carefully as he moves, his body strung tight as he tries to hold onto a thread of composure. It feels normal at the start, but as he pushes in past the head, you feel yourself start to stretch wide in a way you’ve never experienced and your breath starts to quicken. 

“Oh, fuck,” You look between your bodies, watching his slow sink into your wet heat, and swallow tightly at just how much of him is left to take. 

“You okay?” He asks breathlessly.

“Uh-huh,” You manage, “I can feel everything, but god, don't stop,”

He hisses, gripping your thigh with his free hand, fingers still slick with your juices, fighting the urge to lose himself. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his eyes flicking over the expression of tight pleasure on your face.  

“Don’t you dare pull out,” You grip down on his shoulders and roll your hips roll a bit, taking him in another inch, “you feel so good,” 

He lets out a heady breath, and moves in just a bit more, “Yeah?” 

“Never felt anything this good,” You moan as he pushes in further, your walls fluttering and clamping around his hot length. 

He rolls his hips this time, just a little experiment to drag himself in and out without fucking into you fully, and he moans when your muscles lock pleasantly around him, “God, you really were made for me,” 

“Yours,” You say it like a vow, and in a strange way somewhere in the back of your mind you know it is. A dizzy promise in an almost marriage bed as your bodies sink together. 

His breath hitches, cock shifting inside you, his head dropping so that you’re forehead to forehead, “And yours,” he agrees softly. 

Your body feels hot suddenly, hotter than before, everything a hazy glow in the dim lighting of your bedroom. You feel all at once like you’re in the moments before a wave, the sudden suck back of the water with all the sand slipping away from underneath your feet, leaving you unsteady and sinking into the earth. Your ears catch with a dull ring. 

Your breath is comes quickly now, warmth flushing your chest and cheeks, and your nails tighten on his skin, “Yunho,” 

He adjusts to meet your gaze, and you realize he’s feeling exactly what you are, the thrumming sensation of it all but swirling around you in the air. He blinks hard, “I’m.. I need,” 

You understand him without words, you know exactly what he needs because you need it too. Through the fog of sensation, you pull lightly on his shoulders and hitch your calves on his hips, drawing him in deeper, “Please,” 

His hips drop, seating himself just a little more and you moan at the stretching sensation. He’s holding himself back, clinging to the one clear thought that he promised he’d take care of you, but his resolve is crumbing apart before your eyes. 

“Yunho,” You cup his cheek, begging him with your expression to let go, “I need you,” 

He swallows hard, his chest flushed red, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. 

The words flood out of you, a whispered confession just for him, “I love you, please,” 

He exhales in a rush, a wide smile breaking across his face, his eyes shining, and without any more hesitation he thrusts forwards and sinks his full length inside you. 

You moan sharply, wrapping your arms around him as he drops his body down on yours, sweat slick skin pressed flush together. The hot dizziness grows, and he finds your lips, moaning against your mouth as he kisses you hard. Your bodies start to move in sync, a tandem push and pull as he rolls into the cradle of your hips, your breath tangled together as you rock in the sheets. 

Yunho leans his forehead against yours, pumping his hips slow and firm, “I love you,” 

The sensation grows, filling the air around you and a chill rushes up your spine, the hair on your arms standing up at attention, the magnetic pull between your bodies so forceful you don’t think a single thing in the world could drag you away from him. Emotion rocks through the link, and then all at once you feel it snap into place. 

Your tattoo burns, the brand igniting just like when you touched his cheek for the first time, and you suck in a sharp breath. Yunho’s hips stutter in pace, sinking himself deep until your bodies are nestled together with every inch of him buried inside you. 

He’s breathing heavy, arms wrapped tight around you, hands trembling, “I can feel you,” he leans up an inch, smoothing your hair back from your face, “you’re,” 

His words die on his lips but he touches his chest and you nod, you feel him too. One single heartbeat, one breath. The link before was nothing, a mere echo of this, a blurry photograph now sharply in focus, and you reach up to brush your fingers along his cheek, his lips, a ghost of the sensation along your own face. 

“How is this real?” Tears prick at your eyes. You’ve seen the movies, read the books, you’ve talked to people who have found their soulmates before, but nothing could have prepared you for this. You feel him inside you as if he were a part of you, his skin your skin, his emotions, even the shape of his thoughts.  

You understand all at once why people say it’s possible to die of a broken heart. If you ever lost him, lost this… 

“I’m here,” He interrupts your internal spiral, dipping to press a kiss to your lips, “I’m not going anywhere,” 

“How did you,” You shake your head in strange awe of the feeling, “what is this?” 

“I don’t know,” He kisses you again, “I just knew, I felt it,” 

Tears spill over, snaking back into your hairline, and you press your palm to his chest, sliding down over his tattoo. Words fail you, all you can feel is the overwhelming breadth of your souls together. How could anyone live without this, how could anyone believe this isn’t real?

“Don’t cry,” He soothes, wiping the tears from your temples with his thumb. 

“I’m happy,” You manage, finding his eyes again, “Yunho, I’m so happy,” 

He grins, his breath catching in his throat as he lets his forehead rest on yours again and he nods, “Me too,” 

His love thrums through you, tangible and solid, a truth you didn’t know you could have. You’re grinning too now, an elated laugh on your lips as you wrap your arms around him, “Fuck,” you thread your fingers in his hair, nuzzling into him, “you love me,” 

“So much,” He confesses quietly, “I didn’t know I could love someone like this,” 

“Me too,” You press your lips to his, sighing into him, “I love you too,” 

The kisses feel like his love actualized, nothing more true than his mouth, his need, and yours reflected back in the mirror of his desire. You moan as another wave of heat floods through you, and Yunho shudders.

For a moment, there’s nothing more to say, tangled together in your bed in the middle of Seoul, time seemingly standing still just for you. Tightly locked together, you both start to move again. Each slow pump of his hips down is met with an upward roll of yours, his cock slowly stroking in and out of your pulsing center, your arms wrapped around each other as you pant and moan. 

You crumble apart together, still deep beneath the dizzy waves, his mouth hot against your ear as he releases inside you, your cunt fluttering and spasming around him, drawing him in, holding him inside.

**this part was too long for tumblr's new word count guidelines! please check out the second half of this part, here!

[heartsriki]

SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY ⌇ 우리를

pairing ᝰ ni-ki x fem!reader — featuring.. sunghoon | word count: 5.7k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ childhood friends, tease ni-ki, middle school to highschool au, cussing, angst if you use a magnifying glass, fluff, kissing, underage drinking, miscommunication.

synopsis — Ever since middle school, Nishimura Riki has been an absolute pain. Now at your senior year of high school, things get complicated when confused feelings start to rise.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊I am here to represent the playful over nonchalant riki agenda 🤓☝️I wanted this to give shitty 2000's romance movie did I succeed? (this is so ass but I haven't posted a pic in a while so muah, creative fics coming soon trust)

If there was one universal truth in your life, it was this: you hated Nishimura Riki.

Childhood best friends? The kind you see in movies, laughing over dumb jokes, sharing secrets under a blanket fort, or being there for each other no matter what? Yeah, that wasn’t you and Riki. Not even close.

Your history with him began the summer before middle school, a day you remembered all too clearly.

“Who’s moving in, Mom?” you asked, watching the moving truck parked outside the empty house next door.

She glanced over as she set down a stack of plates. “A family with a boy about your age,” she replied, patting your head. “Maybe you’ll make a new friend! Why don’t you go say hi?”

You wrinkled your nose, stepping back from the window. “I wish it was a girl.”

Mom sighed and gave you that knowing look as she moved around the kitchen. “You never know. Your dad and I were childhood friends once.”

“Gross,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “That’s so weird.”

And just like that, you moved on with your life, assuming the new boy next door was unimportant. After all, families came and went in your neighborhood. You didn’t expect him to stick around—or to matter.

Oh, how wrong you were.

The first day of middle school was supposed to be a fresh start. You had plans. Big plans. Make friends, fit in, and survive until High School. And for a moment, it seemed like everything would go smoothly. Until him.

Lunch was going fine. You grabbed your tray, scanning the cafeteria for a place to sit when you collided with someone. Hard.

Your lunch went flying, splattering all over you, and in your panic, you looked up, ready to apologize. But then you noticed he was perfectly fine—completely untouched—like the universe had gone out of its way to humiliate only you.

You glanced at his name tag. Nishimura Riki.

He crouched to help, concern etched across his face. “Are you okay—”

Before he could finish, a blinding camera flash went off, followed by whispers and giggles erupting all around you. Mortified, you bolted to the nearest bathroom.

You thought that would be the end of it, but Riki wasn’t done ruining your life. Far from it.

In gym class? He always aimed for you during dodgeball. At lunch? He somehow snagged the last banana milk every time. Clubs? Teachers practically begged him to join while you couldn’t even get a recommendation. Worst of all, everyone adored him. Everyone but you.

By the end of your first year, Nishimura Riki was your sworn enemy.

And then things got… complicated.

It happened one evening while you were studying in your room. A soft knock at the door interrupted your focus.

“Come in,” you called, expecting your mom.

She stepped inside with two glasses of water. “Remember the tutoring favor I mentioned? My friend’s son is here in need of help, Be nice, okay?”

“Sure,” you replied, not thinking much of it.

But when the door creaked open again, you froze.

“Not who you were expecting?” Riki grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe.

You crossed your arms. “What are you doing here Riki?”

Riki winced. “Tutoring obviously, and could you please just call me ni-ki like everyone else?”

“You’re not coming in,” you snapped, blocking the doorway.

He sighed dramatically. “And what would I tell your mom?” He bent slightly to meet your glare, his grin widening when you finally moved aside.

“Fine. Sit down,” you muttered, plopping back at your desk.

For the next hour, you worked in tense silence. Or tried to, anyway. Riki kept fidgeting, pulling out a folded piece of paper halfway through.

“What’s that?” you asked, snatching it before he could stop you.

“Hey!” he yelped, scrambling to grab it back.

It didn’t take long to figure out what it was: another love letter. You rolled your eyes and tossed it back at him. “Veryyyy humble.”

“Not my fault I’m handsome, but it really is annoying though, I'm constantly surrounded… sometimes I feel like I'm drowning” he muttered, leaning back on his hands.

You were thrown off by his sincerity but you ignored him until he suddenly perked up as if struck by divine inspiration.

“Wait,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I have an idea.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s never good.”

“Let’s be friends, like attached to the hip friends.”

You blinked. “What?”

He grinned. “Think about it. You don’t have anyone covering your back at school, and I need someone to scare off all the girls who keep following me around. It’s perfect.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hard pass.”

“Come on, at least think about it!” he whined.

Unfortunately, he didn’t leave you much of a choice. Day by day, Riki wormed his way into your life, showing up at your house, sticking by you at school, and, somehow, turning everyone’s attention to you.

It was annoying. It was infuriating. But, worst of all? It worked.

Fast forward to your senior year of high school, and here you were—still stuck with Nishimura Riki. And somehow, despite your ups and downs, things weren’t going to be quite so simple anymore.

You were buried in your assignments, your usual library spot surrounded by a fortress of papers, highlighters, and books. It was your sanctuary, a place where Riki always knew he could find you.

He wasn’t alone when he spotted you this time. A couple of his friends hung around, laughing about something entirely unimportant in his mind the second his eyes landed on you. His grin stretched wide, and with an exaggerated sigh, he excused himself. The girls groaned, rolling their eyes at his now-predictable antics. “You’re obsessed, ni-ki,” one of them muttered, but he didn’t care.

Jogging up to your table, he glanced at your mess of notes and books. You didn’t even look up. Of course.

“What is it, Riki?” you murmured, still scribbling, your tone bored, uninterested—classic.

“Would it kill you to talk to me lovingly every once in a while, Y/N?” he mocked, flopping into the chair across from you. His eyes darted to the pile of folded papers shoved to the side, and his eyebrows shot up. “Oh? What’s this? Love letters? These for me again?”

You finally glanced up, leveling him with that deadpan expression he swore you saved just for him. “They’re definitely not mine,” you replied flatly.

He gasped, hand over his chest like you’d shot him. “Poor baby. Jealous much?” he teased, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Of you? Hardly.”

Riki narrowed his eyes at you, suddenly curious. Now that he thought about it, he’d never actually seen you with anyone—no rumors, no dates, no shy confessions. And while you always rolled your eyes whenever he brought up girls in front of you, you never chimed in about any guy in your life. Suspicious.

“Y/N,” he started, his tone a little too casual as he began doodling nonsense shapes on the table. “When was the last time you had a boyfriend?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Well, you remember Choi—”

“Choi Soobin? That lasted, what, a week?” he scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

“And why do you think that is, genius?” you shot back, pointing your pencil at him accusingly.

Riki faltered for a split second before looking away. “Well… I think you can do so much better than him,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

Your brow shot up, amused. “Oh? Alright then, Mr. Matchmaker. Who’s my ‘better match,’ huh?”

His mouth opened, then shut. For once, he didn’t have a quick answer. He gulped, scrambling to save face. “How about I… set you up?”

You laughed, leaning back in your chair. “With one of your fuckboy friends? No thanks.”

“Hey! Not them!” he laughed, hands up in defense. “I meant someone like… Sunghoon.”

That made you pause. “Sunghoon? Like tall, calm, cool, and basically perfect Sunghoon? Yeah, right. He wouldn’t go on a date with me in a million years.”

“What? Says who?” Riki shot back, standing up like he’d just been challenged to a duel. “I’ll talk to him. Watch and learn, Y/N. Watch and learn.”

“Riki—”

“Later! Don’t miss me too much” He winked and walked off, leaving you to roll your eyes at his retreating figure, wondering if he’d actually follow through or if this was just another one of his ridiculous schemes.

“Y/N? I thought you guys were dating,” Sunghoon said, his brow furrowing in confusion as he leaned back against the locker.

Riki nearly choked on his water, his eyes going wide as he turned to face him. “What? No, Y/N is just a friend.” He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a half-smile. “Oh. Huh. Well, I think I’m gonna pass anyway. She’s kind of… boring?”

The words hit Riki like a slap. His head snapped toward Sunghoon so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. “Boring?” he echoed, his voice sharp. “Says who?”

Sunghoon shrugged nonchalantly. “Everyone. I mean, I haven’t seen her at a single party or game, not even during lunch. What would we even talk about?”

Riki scoffed, crossing his arms as he glared at him. “Y/N is plenty of fun, asshole. What do you even know?” His voice was defensive, almost protective, and it surprised even himself.

Sunghoon tilted his head, studying Riki’s reaction. “I mean, she seems… quiet,” he admitted. “But now that I think about it, if you’re the one setting me up with her, she’s probably pretty great. You don’t exactly play matchmaker for just anyone.”

Riki blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Uh… well, yeah, she is great,” he muttered, not meeting Sunghoon’s eyes.

Sunghoon grinned. “You know what? Why not? She’s cute.”

Riki froze. His grip tightened on the strap of his backpack, and for a split second, he wasn’t sure why his stomach twisted at Sunghoon’s words. Calling you cute? Of course, you were cute. He’d always known that. So why did it sound weird coming from someone else?

He quickly shook off the strange feeling, chalking it up to his usual overprotectiveness. “Alright,” he said, his voice coming out more clipped than he intended. “But don’t do anything weird. Seriously.”

Sunghoon laughed, pushing off the locker. “Weird? Relax, I’ll be a gentleman. So, you gonna tell her, or should I?”

Riki sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll tell her. Just… don’t mess this up, alright?”

Sunghoon smirked as he walked away. “I won’t. But, man, you’re acting real possessive for ‘just a friend,’ don’t you think?”

Riki didn’t respond, watching as Sunghoon disappeared down the hall. The words hung heavy in the air, and for the first time, he wondered if maybe—just maybe—he was more than just “overprotective” when it came to you.

Today, you felt a kind of giddiness you hadn’t experienced in a while. After weeks of drowning in study sessions, late-night cramming for club responsibilities, and endless schoolwork, you were finally doing something for yourself. And to top it all off, you weren’t just going out—you were going out with a boy.

It had been forever since you’d made this much effort. You dolled yourself up, not too over the top, but more than your usual routine. Casual but undeniably cute. You felt like a new version of yourself, and it was exciting.

Standing in front of your mirror, you hummed along to the music playing softly in the background, carefully adjusting your hair. You tilted your head, giving yourself one last once-over with a satisfied grin when there was a knock on your door.

“Y/N, I’m coming in,” came the familiar voice.

Before you could even respond, the door creaked open, and Riki stepped inside. His usual easy-going demeanor faltered the second he saw you. The air felt heavy, and his eyes widened as if he’d been caught off guard.

For a moment, he just stared, the words dying in his throat. Why were you so dressed up? He’d seen you a thousand times, but never like this. Something about the way your hair framed your face, the slight gloss on your lips, and the way your outfit hugged your figure—it was like he was seeing you for the first time.

Were you always this pretty?

“Is he on his way? What kind of car does he drive?” you asked, practically buzzing with excitement.

Your voice snapped him out of whatever trance he was in, and he blinked, his expression hardening as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Uh… yeah, he’s almost here,” he muttered, his tone uncharacteristically stiff.

The doorbell rang, and your face lit up instantly. Clapping your hands together, you grabbed your bag and checked your outfit one last time. You turned to him, your eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Not too bad, right? Think he’ll like it?”

Riki froze again. The words caught in his throat, and for a second, he thought about telling you the truth. That you looked beautiful. That the thought of you being this excited about someone else was bothering him more than it should.

But instead, his pride got the better of him. “I—well—you look stupid,” he blurted out, his words harsher than he intended.

You rolled your eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Say whatever you want, Riki. Your opinion doesn’t matter tonight. I’ll text you the details tomorrow!”

And just like that, you were gone, your scent lingering in the room as you hurried past him and out the door.

Riki stood there, staring at the space you’d just left. His chest felt tight, an unfamiliar weight settling there as he replayed the moment in his head. What was this feeling? Why was his stomach twisting uncomfortably at the thought of you with someone else?

He swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair as he sat on your bed, shoulders slumping. Something was changing—something he wasn’t sure he was ready to admit yet. But as he sat there, his chest aching and his mind racing, one thing was becoming painfully clear.

He didn’t want to be the one you texted tomorrow to tell all the details about tonight. He wanted to be the one sitting across from you, the one you were so excited to see. And that realization scared him more than anything.

The next week was nothing short of torture for Riki. As if fate was playing a cruel joke, you and Sunghoon seemed to hit it off. You weren’t officially dating, but the two of you were in the so-called “talking stage.” It didn’t matter what stage it was—every second of it felt wrong to Riki.

Your usual library spot? You weren’t alone anymore. Sunghoon was always there, sitting across from you, leaning in too close, making you laugh in ways that Riki used to. Your desk? It was now stocked with your favorite snacks every morning—snacks that weren’t from Riki. And the final blow? You called Sunghoon by his nickname. His nickname. Riki clenched his fists every time he overheard it because not once in all the years he’d known you had you ever called him by a nickname.

What did Sunghoon have that Riki didn’t? He left snacks, visited you in the library, and called you nicknames. Riki did all of that first. So why wasn’t it enough?

For the first time, Riki felt you slipping away. And for the first time, he realized just how much you meant to him. But instead of confronting those feelings, he did what he always did best—he buried them.

The dismissal bell rang, and the school flooded with students rushing to leave. You were taking your time, slowly packing up while your music played softly in your headphones. A tap on your shoulder startled you, making you jump.

“Hey, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” Sunghoon said with an easy laugh.

You laughed back, pushing him playfully. “It’s fine. Yeah, I’m ready to go, but we should wait for Riki. He might need a ride home.”

Sunghoon’s brow furrowed, confused. “ni-ki? I thought he went on that date.”

Your hands paused mid-motion. “What?”

“Yeah, didn’t he tell you? He’s been talking about it all day.” Sunghoon said it so casually, but his words felt like a punch to your chest.

No. Riki hadn’t told you anything. And now that you thought about it, he’d been distant recently, skipping out on plans and barely texting back. But to go on a date and not even mention it? That wasn’t like him at all. A strange feeling bubbled in your chest—was it anxiety or something else entirely?

“Oh. I guess we should just go then,” you murmured, brushing past Sunghoon, who quickly followed after you.

It stayed like that for weeks. Riki kept avoiding you, making himself scarce. He didn’t leave snacks on your desk anymore, didn’t visit you in the library, and the only time you caught glimpses of him was when he was with her. That girl in his friend group—except now, his arm was around her shoulder.

Something about seeing them together twisted your stomach into knots. You couldn’t figure out what was going on. The absence of Nishimura Riki was a void you weren’t coping with well. You missed his annoying presence, his whining, his endless teasing. When had he become so important to you? And more importantly, why did it hurt so much to see him with someone else?

Days passed, your short fling with Sunghoon had come to an end. You and Sunghoon realized you weren’t a good match. It wasn’t dramatic; the spark just wasn’t there. You were relieved to have gained a friend, but even that small resolution didn’t fill the aching gap that Riki had left behind.

One day, as you trudged toward class, your thoughts heavy, you spotted him. For a moment, everything else faded. His uniform was crisp for once, his hair falling perfectly across his forehead, and his headphones hung loosely around his neck. You felt your heart skip, a familiar warmth creeping in. But then you saw her—the girl. She was right next to him, laughing as she leaned closer.

Riki caught your eyes, and for a moment, you swore you saw something flicker in his expression. But then he looked away, a fake smile plastered back on his face, and it felt like someone had ripped the air out of your lungs.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The sudden, painful realization hit you like a truck—you had fallen for Nishimura Riki. The cocky, annoying, rude, childish Riki. And you had realized it far too late.

Fueled by a sense of urgency, you stormed over to him. The closer you got, the more his eyes widened. His body tensed, his jaw clenching as if he knew what was coming.

“Riki, I need to talk to you,” you said, your voice trembling slightly.

He scoffed, avoiding your gaze as he shifted awkwardly. “What could we possibly need to talk about?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Oh, I don’t know. How about the fact that you’ve been ignoring me for weeks? How about the fact that you’ve completely shut me out?”

He let out a bitter laugh, his eyes now locking with yours. “Me? Ignoring you? Don’t make me laugh. Weren’t you the one who ditched me first? The second Sunghoon gave you a little attention, you were all over him like he was your whole world.”

You flinched at the venom in his words. “What are you even talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb!” he snapped, his voice rising. “You’ve been desperate for attention since day one. The moment someone else gave it to you, you didn’t even think twice about ditching me.”

The words stung more than you thought possible, and tears welled in your eyes. “Is that how you really see me? Someone who just begs for love and clings to anyone willing to give it? Or is that what you wanted me to be? Someone who would never leave you, so you could string me along whenever you wanted? Like you always have?”

His eyes softened, regret flickering through them, but before he could respond, the girl at his side stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm.

“Alright ni-ki.. I get it now.” You took that as your cue. Turning on your heel, you walked away without looking back, tears blurring your vision.

He gulped as he watched you walk away, Itching to chase after you. He never thought the loss of his first name coming from your lips would hurt this much. But it did.

For the nights after that, sleep was impossible. You lay there staring at the ceiling, replaying the confrontation with Riki over and over in your head. His words, his tone, the hurt that lingered in his eyes despite the venom in his voice—it was all too much. The raw pain left a lump in your throat, and the longer you thought about it, the more your chest ached.

You didn’t know how to move past it. Slowly, you started closing yourself off. The window you always left unlocked for Riki to climb through at night? It was shut now, the latch sealed as if closing it would somehow lock away the memories too.

Everything was weighing on you, dragging you deeper into a pit of emotions you couldn’t escape from. You needed something—anything to distract yourself. That’s when you remembered Sunghoon’s message from earlier.

Sunghoon:

Hey I know parties aren’t really your thing, but you can always come and stick with me tonight if you want? LMK.

You sighed, staring at the screen for what felt like forever before finally making a decision. Maybe this was what you needed, a change of scenery, a chance to forget for just one night. Without overthinking, you hit the call button.

He answered almost immediately, his voice casual but with a hint of surprise. “Hey, Y/N, what’s up?”

“Hey, Hoon,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “I’ll be on my way soon.”

When you arrived at the party, the air was buzzing with energy. Music thumped loudly in the background, lights flickered through the windows, and the yard was packed with groups of people chatting and laughing. You felt a pang of anxiety as you stepped inside, but it was quickly drowned out when Sunghoon spotted you from across the room.

“Y/N!” he called, weaving through the crowd with a grin. “You made it.”

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “Yeah, I thought I’d give it a shot.”

“I’m glad you came,” he said, resting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people, and we can hang out.”

He led you through the party, his presence grounding you as you met new faces and settled into the environment. For the first time in what felt like weeks, you felt yourself relaxing. Laughing. Forgetting.

But that peace was short-lived.

Halfway through the night, as you stood by the kitchen with Sunghoon, sipping on a red solo cup which he’d handed you, your eyes landed on someone you weren’t prepared to see. Riki.

He was standing on the far side of the room, a red Solo cup in hand, his face half-hidden by the shadowy lighting. But it was unmistakably him. His posture was relaxed, but he wasn’t speaking as his group of friends talked. You looked around for the girl he grasped onto recently but she was nowhere in sight.

Your chest tightened, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. For a moment, all the progress you’d made to distract yourself unraveled. You tried to look away, but it was like your eyes were glued to him.

Sunghoon noticed immediately. “Hey,” he said gently, stepping in front of you to block your view. “You okay?”

You blinked, forcing yourself to focus on him. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine. Not at all.

Riki hadn’t noticed you at first, too caught up in the chaos of the party. But when he finally glanced toward the kitchen, his heart stopped. There you were, standing next to Sunghoon, looking beautiful in a way that made his chest ache.

His grip on his cup tightened as he watched Sunghoon lean closer, whispering something that made you laugh softly. That laugh. The one he hadn’t heard in weeks. It was his laugh, the one you used to share with him.

“ni-ki,” a girl next to him said, tugging on his sleeve to grab his attention. But he barely heard her, his focus still glued to you.

“Excuse me for a second,” he mumbled, setting his cup down and stepping away from his group. He didn’t even know what he was doing. His feet carried him across the room before his brain had the chance to catch up.

You saw him coming before he even reached you. The sight of him walking toward you, his expression unreadable, made your stomach twist. Sunghoon glanced over his shoulder and immediately stiffened.

“Y/N,” Riki said, his voice low but firm as he stopped in front of you. His gaze flickered to Sunghoon briefly before settling back on you. “Can we talk?”

You hesitated, your walls immediately going up. “What is there to talk about, ni-ki?”

“Please,” he said, his tone softer now, almost desperate wincing at the way you spit his nickname.

Sunghoon stepped closer, his presence protective. “Maybe now isn’t the time, Riki.”

Riki’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “I wasn’t asking you, Sunghoon.”

Your heart was racing, caught between the two of them. The tension in the air was suffocating, and you didn’t know what to do.

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” Sunghoon finally said, his voice steady but his eyes lingering on you for reassurance before he walked off.

Riki took a step closer, his hands buried in his pockets as he looked at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “For everything.”

You swallowed hard, your emotions a whirlwind. “I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

“Then don’t say anything,” he said quickly. “Just… listen. Please.”

And so, for the first time in weeks, you let him talk.

He led you up the stairs, weaving through the chaos of the party. The bass of the music faded the further you went, replaced by the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. He stopped in front of an empty room, pushing the door open and letting you step inside first. The room was dim, lit only by the moonlight streaming through the window. When he followed, the soft click of the door shutting behind him felt heavier than it should have.

You turned to face him, crossing your arms defensively. Your guard was up, and he could see it all over your face—your hurt, your anger, your confusion. He hated that he was the one who put that look in your eyes. How had things gotten so messed up? It reminded him of when you were younger, back in middle school, when he could never find the right words to say to you. But this time, it felt like so much more was at stake.

“Y/N…” His voice was quiet, laced with hesitation, his dark eyes glowing softly under the light. “I haven’t been real with you lately.”

You didn’t say anything, your glare sharp enough to cut through him.

“To be honest…” He froze, the words catching in his throat as his face heated up. He looked down, running a hand through his hair as if it would steady him. “Well, I’ve realized that you mean… a lot more to me than I thought.”

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat, but your defenses didn’t falter. “What are you trying to say?”

He sighed, taking a tentative step closer. “I’m saying I screwed up, okay? I’ve been jealous, selfish, and downright stupid. Seeing you with Sunghoon, thinking I might lose you… it made me realize something.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting, your breath catching as he took another step closer.

“I like you, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of his confession. “No, scratch that—I’m in love with you. I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now, but I was too dumb to figure it out until I almost lost you.”

Your heart was pounding, the walls you’d built around yourself threatening to crumble. His words felt like a punch to the gut, but in the best way possible.

“Why now?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Why did it take all of this for you to say something?”

“I was scared,” he admitted, his tone filled with regret. “Scared of ruining what we already had. But when I saw you with him, I realized I couldn’t just stand by and lose you. I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything. I just… I need you to know how I feel.”

You stared at him, your emotions a whirlwind. Part of you wanted to stay mad, to keep your guard up and protect yourself. But the other part—the part that had always been soft for him—wanted to believe every word he was saying.

“Riki,” you started, your voice trembling. “You really hurt me, you know that, right?”

He nodded, guilt washing over his face. “I know, and I’ll spend however long it takes making it up to you pretty. I swear.”

There was a long silence as you studied him, searching his face for any sign that he wasn’t being genuine. But all you saw was raw vulnerability.

Finally, you sighed, stepping closer to him. “You’re such an idiot,” you muttered, but there was no malice in your voice.

He smiled softly, a flicker of hope lighting up his eyes. “I’ve been told.”

Before you could second-guess yourself, you reached up, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him closer. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t hesitate. His hands found your waist as you stood on your toes, and then, without another word, you kissed him.

It was soft at first, tentative, like the two of you were still testing the waters. But as the moment deepened, all the tension, all the weeks of hurt and miscommunication melted away. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, and you let yourself fall into him completely.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other, both of you breathless. He smiled at you, his usual cocky grin softened by the tenderness in his eyes.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Don’t push your luck.”

He laughed, the sound light and carefree, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Riki had known you since middle school. Back then, you were the girl who sat by the window during lunch, scribbling in your notebook or reading while everyone else was too busy trying to be cool. You were quiet but quick-witted, and for some reason, that always fascinated him.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he started noticing you more. Maybe it was the time you helped him with a history project because he procrastinated and would’ve failed without you, Maybe… It was the day you both ran into each other. Literally.

He hated admitting it, but he always found himself drawn to you. You weren’t flashy or loud like the other people in his life. You were just you—calm, focused, and, most of all, real.

But middle school Riki wasn’t great at handling feelings. Instead of being sweet to you, he’d tease you mercilessly, always looking for a reaction. He loved how your face would scrunch up when you were annoyed or how you’d mutter sarcastic comebacks under your breath, pretending you weren’t affected.

Even then, he knew you were different. Special. But he never let himself think too much about it.

As the years passed, his feelings only grew, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself. By the time high school rolled around, you were still his constant. The one person he could always count on, the one who somehow understood him without needing a million words.

But somewhere along the way, he’d started feeling something heavier whenever he saw you. When you smiled at him, it felt like a spark ignited in his chest. When you scolded him for slacking off, he’d secretly enjoy the attention. And when you laughed—God, when you laughed—he swore it was his favorite sound in the world.

Still, he buried those feelings deep. He figured it was better to keep things the way they were. If he said something and you didn’t feel the same, he could lose you entirely, and the thought of that terrified him.

Then Sunghoon came into the picture. And for the first time, he realized he wasn’t the only one who could see how amazing you were. Watching you smile at someone else, laugh at someone else’s jokes, give someone else the attention that used to be his—it tore him apart. He felt like he was suffocating, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

Even now, standing in that room with you after finally confessing everything, he couldn’t help but think back to all those moments from middle school. How blind had he been? How stupid to waste so much time pretending he didn’t care?

Looking at you now, your cheeks flushed, your eyes searching his face like you were trying to figure him out, he realized he didn’t want to hold back anymore.

He smiled, soft and genuine, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You know,” he said, his voice low, “I think I’ve been falling for you since middle school. I just didn’t know how to say it back then. Guess I’m still figuring it out now.”

You blinked at him, stunned for a moment, before a small laugh escaped your lips. “You’ve been a mess since middle school, Riki.”

“Yeah,” he said, his grin growing wider. “But I’m your mess now.”

And with that, he kissed you again, pouring years of unspoken feelings into the moment, knowing he’d finally found where he belonged—right there, with you.

[quokkaholic]

Teenage Heaven h.j

Warnings: MDNI, fluffy smut with some plot, alcohol consumption, kissin and touchin, f nipple play, dry humping, cussing duh. Lightly edited

Synopsis: (NOT about teens)Y/n and Han are in the early stages of their relationship and are meeting up in NYC for the first time since you met initially while he is there for work. Despite being long distance, neither of you want to rush into sleeping together, but that doesn’t mean you guys can’t do other stuff to satisfy your cravings.

Song recommendation: Teenage Heaven by Be Your Own Pet

˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡

Han was anxious to tell you that, as much as he wanted to greet you at the baggage claim, it just wasn’t possible, no matter how much he begged staff to allow it. Despite that, he assured you he’s tracking your flight and will be in a car there waiting for you. When the plane lands in NYC, you turn off airplane mode to send a message to Han only to be inundated by messages from him.

“I cant believe i get to see you in a few hours”

“Im scared”

“And excited”

“Mostly excited”

“I can’t think about anything else. Why aren’t you here already?”

“It’s only been like half an hour”

“Im going to squeeze the life out of you”

“You should be scared too”

“I’m getting no work done”

“This is dumb asf”

“I should’ve been camping at your gate since last night”

“Should’ve never left the airport, and just waited there for you”

“You should be landing in an hour and 47 minutes”

“I keep trying to get them to take me to the airport already. They brush me off like im crazy”

“not crazy”

“Maybe for you tho 😉”

“Headed your way! Yuuh!”

“We’re parked outside”

“You landed 2 minutes ago…WHERE ARE YOU?”

“I tried to make a break for it, but staff knows me too well. child lock is on”

You are grinning at the phone screen as you read them, not only because of how adorable it is, but because you feel similarly. You tried to take a little nap on the flight, but your nerves and anticipation kept you wide awake. You let Han know that your plane hasn’t even taxied into the gate yet, but you'll be with him as fast as your legs can carry you.

“What does your bag look like? I could send someone to go get it for you, so you can just come straight to me. I'm already doing it. What color is it? Does it have a tag or anything?” He’s doing everything in his power to get you into his arms as soon as possible.

“I didn’t check a bag, Sungie. I just have my carryon and a backpack, so I can come straight to you ☺️” 

“Perfect. Better run babe”

Typically when you fly, you are one of the last ones to exit the plane, waiting for everyone else to grab their stuff from the overhead bins and trudge through the crowded aisle, but today you were the first one standing. You think people could sense your urgency; no one even tried to hop out in front as you slipped between the seats. Following the signs, you speed walk to the pick up area that Han is parked at. Your eyes are immediately drawn to a blacked out luxury hatchback with a tint as dark as us legally allowed; there's a man standing at the back resting on the bumper, and he waves you over. As you approach you see an almost unrecognizable figure wearing sunglasses, a mask, and beanie with his face smushed up against the dark glass. When you reach the car, the staff member waiting for you opens the trunk, and you go to pick up your luggage to load it, but are thrown off by a shout from the backseat of the vehicle.

“Y/nnah! Get in the damn car!”

You stayed up late last night stressing about this very moment. How would it feel to see him again? What if the connection isn’t there like it was last time? Would it be awkward? Would you two just end up sitting in silence? As you enter the car, you realize your hours of anxiety ridden overthinking were all for nothing. He immediately clings to you pulling you in for a soul warming embrace. You somehow manage to end up simultaneously both be in each other's laps becoming a roiling lump of limbs and love, unable to tear your hands off him. Memorizing how he feels, for those nights where you question if he is even real or just a self indulgent illusion. There are a few shared kisses, but you are holding yourselves back for the sake of the driver and security in the front seat.

Seeing him in person is a bit like seeing a ghost, and it has you and Han both in a state of awe. There is, in fact, a period of dreaded quiet between you and Han, but it's not awkward. It’s one you two share intentionally to bask in your togetherness. You are both but caught up in the moment, unable to believe this truly happened and worked out. Smiling at eachother with rosy cheeks and racing hearts, you train all of your senses on him, barely even noticing the soft sound of the radio in the background. 

You go over what the next few days of your vacation have in store with Han. When planning, initially he pitched going on a date tonight, but after some discussion, you both decided it would be better to have a hotel room date and just order food, so you cans have uninterrupted couple time for the first time.

The hotel is stunning, way fancier than you've ever stayed at. You enter through a back entrance that is arguably more grandiose than the main lobby as it's only used for high profile guests. Han shows you to your suite; his room is only a little down the hall. Opposed to your typical single rooms with a bathroom and a kitchenette, this place is like a luxury apartment: bedroom, living room, dining area, massive bathroom with a bathtub and shower, and a separate toilet room all designed and littered in the most up to date, trendy decor.

“Ji, you didn’t have to do all this. A normal room would have been more than acceptable!”

“Y/nn I know I didn’t have to. I do this because I want to. Plus, I kind of intend to be over here a lot, so I didn’t want it to be too cramped. I also wanted there to be a place we could sit together that wasn't the bed to be… respectful I guess” He can’t hold your gaze as the last part passes his lips. 

“You're so sweet, Jisung” You say as you walk over to him after you dropped your bags. He's cheeks hot and avoiding your eyes; you are drawn to him, possessed to hug and squeeze and never let go. The snuggle pulls Han out of his shyness caused by your compliment.

“That was the first time I’ve heard you say my name in person” He says nuzzling his face into your neck. He snakes his hands around your waist and delivers his promise from earlier; Han squeezes you so hard, like an python, he manages to squeeze tighter and tighter while attacking your neck with quick tight lipped pecks until your back cracks. It startles him a bit, gasping and releasing his hold to grab your shoulders with a look of horror on his face. If you weren’t immediately cackling about it, he would have been worried he hurt you. 

Han was considerate enough to think ahead, and the food was to be delivered soon after you guys arrived at the hotel for an early dinner so you guys could spend the evening together. For now there is nothing to do but enjoy being in each other’s company, and it feels so right. It's tender beyond comprehension, but not overly explicit: gentle kisses and even gentler hands traveling up ticklish sides or through lush hair.  Running your hands up and down his toned arms, you can't help but grab them briefly, feeling his muscles flex under your touch; they have definitely grown since the last time you saw him. You guys slowly start to get more and more comfortable and bold. The soft grazes transition to firm pets, but there is soon a knock on the door. He took your suggestion, and ordered from your favorite restaurant from the last time you were here as well as a bottle of your favorite wine which he must’ve committed to memory from a long passed conversation, as you don't even remember sharing that info. 

Dinner is a dream. The table is by the massive glass sliding doors that lead out to the balcony allowing the city lights to stream in. It goes without saying that the chat is immaculate, but the energy is so familiar and fun. You aren’t worried about eating too much in front of him or talking with your mouth full. Jisung just makes you feel comfortable and admired, like you can just be yourself and he’ll savor every moment. Once dinner is over and the bottle of wine is empty, you two make your way to the couch under the guise of wanting to show you some new music he has been working on, but the intense stares and frequent brushing hands had the tension quite high. He simply turns on some tunes to not be in silence, before your lips find each other. 

The intimacy from early returns tenfold with newly injected sensuality. The firm grips progress to needy grasping, with daring finger dipping under the hems of your shirts, and you find yourselves in a passionate makeout. Although the kiss is hot and lustful, his tongue is timid in its exploration, so soft and gentle as it glides through your mouth, careful to tame his raging desire and not to use too much force. It becomes the sloppy and impassioned kind of kiss you can lose hours to. Your session goes till your lips are swollen and your hair is a mess. You would say the light lip product you had on was gone, but you know exactly where it is, it’s smeared out all over and around your mouths only adding to the kissed raw look. Han’s messy love drunk expression spurs you on, and while traveling your kisses down to his neck, his hands grip your hips to lift and guide you to straddle him. You don’t hesitate to follow his lead.

Settling yourself down onto him, you both let out a small gasp, and you have to fight your instinct to seek friction, but your restraint is short lived. After Ji undoes your bra and helps you remove it from under your shirt, his hands are glued to your breasts gently kneading while intermittently rubbing his thumbs over your nipples drawing soft moans from your lips and little circles of your hips.

You keep trying to give him attention by kissing his shoulders or nibbling on his ear, but he will only let you do it for a moment before he switches his affections back to you. Once you notice the pattern, you pull away for a second, also partially to catch your breath. You ask through pants,

“Am I doing okay? You keep cutting me short,” staring down into his eyes you see no sign of discontent. In fact, at your words his full cheeks tense into a big smile before going back to attacking your neck and mumbling against your skin like he can’t look at you when he admits,

“You just sound too good, Yn. I can’t get enough.”

His words alone make you whimper into his ear causing him to shiver. He begins to move lower, lingering on your collar bones. Licking and nipping. He lightly presses together and lifts your tits to his mouth to kiss them through your shirt. Kissing all over but planting light kisses to your hard bud before switching to the other. He reaches for the bottom hem of your top and looks up to check in before he proceeds.

“This okay?” You struggle to find your words and just nod down to him with your lips pressed together, but he asks again wanting a verbal confirmation from you as he begins to raise your top.

“Feels good baby?”

It would be much easier to respond if he wasn’t giving feather light kissing to your sensitive nipples.

“Yes, Ji. I… I really like it” you say, gasping as he pinches your bud between his top teeth and tongue. Screwing your eyes shut as seeing him look up through his tousled hair with his adoring gaze, mouth connected to your chest, makes you feel like you’re going to melt. You can no longer restrain the involuntary rutting of your hip and decide to just commit. One of Han's hands shoots down to grip your hip tight enough to leave fingerprints and presses you down to grind into him. His previously low and soft moans are rising in volume and frequency being dampened by your skin. Your linen pants are cute and were so comfortable for the flight, but they do little in the way of concealing what you are grinding against. They are so thin that you can target your clit onto the zipper fold of his jeans over the shaft of his hard cock.

With all the work Han has put in with his mouth, it doesn’t take many circles of your hips to get the heat and pressure in your lower stomach to rise. You grab either side of Han's face and remove his mouth as the pleasure was starting to become too much and smash your lips down on his and moan into the kiss. Keeping your pressure firm and rhythm consistent, Han’s breath is trembling, whimpering and whispering your name. His sounds, his words, his touch, it all works together in symphony, and you contract forward to rest your head on his shoulder and groan as the you reach the tipping point and you orgasm radiates through you. As you hold onto him and attempt to ride out your pleasure, the sensation of Han now gripping you with both hands pushing you down on his lap, aiding in your grinding as he fucks up against you have another high crashing over you. His voice is shaky when he finds the ability to speak,

“Fuck. Feels so… I’m gonna…Oh my god”

His rolling of his hips has turned to erratic bucking as he cums hard shuddering, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing like earlier.

“Holy shit. I haven’t jizzed my pants since I was a teen” Han giddily admits with just a twinge of embarrassment, still clinging to you trying to catch his breath.

“This is a first for me! Didn’t know it could even happen” you confess still winded from the pleasure, causing you both to let out weak laughter, neither of you daring to move for a few minutes, just lounging in the afterglow. You guys decide that Han will stay to watch some stuff and if he just so happens to fall asleep here, oh well, right? Getting two rooms was out of respect and consideration, but you both knew you’d end up sleeping in the same bed. He lets you freshen up in the bathroom first, and once you exit, he has a fresh set of clothes in his arms. He must’ve called one of the guys to bring them. 

The rest of the night is filled with endless snuggles and random movies you can find on the hotel channels; the Harry Potter movies always seem to be on TV, so you end up watching two random ones of the series out of order. Han offers to go get his laptop to hook up to the tv, but neither of you care enough to walk the 40 feet down to his room and back. This night isn't about the movies, it's about taking in every moment of being in the same room. You guys end up staying up late flicking through channels, becoming amateur film critics. It's a bit past 1am when Han has the brilliant idea for you guys to go to a convenience store nearby and pick up some ice cream. You are in the city that never sleeps, and you will never turn down an adventure or a sweet treat. He sends a text to Minho claiming he can’t get ice cream without at least offering to get one for his best friend.

“Going to get ice cream. Meet in lobby in 10”

You and Han put on your shoes and coats and share a few more smooches before you can’t for 20 minutes.

“Did Minho respond?”

“No but he read it”

“So..?”

“He’s probably already down there waiting for us”

˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡° ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡

A.n- I initially wrote this for a Han fic I was making before I realized that writing long form fanfic was not for me, so there's a bit more plot in this one. Thanks for reading.

-mo 💕

Mastserlist

[bakerstreet-and-beyond]

Hey please be careful in sharing things like this because a number of these things folks are claiming you can't search/get flagged since the Ban you very much still can search and or were things that were already being flagged for review BEFORE the 19th ...

Like- did we all forget talking about this over a year ago when there was a decrease in Pro-Palestine content due to outside suppression on the app or when real time Lives of fighting in Ukraine were being taken down? There's a reason why people on TikTok were using 🍉 and 🌻 instead of the flag or actually naming the countries.

Also the majority of negative comments being flagged about these awful people is because it contains the word "Fuck" which on Tumblr y'all've been dunking on how on TikTok you couldn't/can't say, "Fuck" "Kill" "Sex" "Die" etc in comments and descriptions for YEARS... Literally if you put those words in as tags, descriptions, captions or comments you get flagged; We've known this for A WHILE.

They took 170 MILLION users offline and then back, some issues people are reporting are literally growing pains of putting the servers in weird limbo life support after taking them down (technically the app is STILL banned) like the Live Feature needing about 24hrs to come back online and quality being nuked.

Certain users are missing or aren't uploading anymore because they deleted the app not because they are "Banned", which still since the app itself IS STILL technically banned, you can't re-download in the app store currently. We all thought it was the end and some actually deleted their accounts the day of because of how sure folks thought it was over.

Also the primary editing software people use for TikTok, Capcut, isn't back either because of this purgatory the app is in so people can't even make the videos they normally make too.

Under the cut here the actual results when you type in those terms into TikTok search and what I saw for Lives literally 48 hours ago

When Lives Feature came back on literally the first Live I got on my FYP was for a MLK Day parade and it was someone zooming in on a sign a little girl was holding that said "This is the Kings day, NOT his" followed by the next Live got was a gentleman walking around his neighborhood speaking in Spanish about how he's been up all morning checking out suspicious trucks in his neighborhood worried that they may be undercover ICE vans. Next Live I saw was someone talking about how no one can see her live and yet there was 5,000 people watching 🧍🏻the next video I literally got was a Luigi Update; unfortunately I didn't realize I should've taken screenshots of all this but also,

I'm in the US and not using a VPN, here are my results for the following as of 1/22/25:

The Radio Station only comes up as a banner at the top suggesting the account but, all the results are tho what you'd expect

These videos also are still here,

And this is what you get for searching "Fascism"

And our boi is still very much here

I hit my photo limit, but I implore you to type those terms in that supposedly have "no results anymore" and see they very much do and or realize that some things have already been removed well before the 19th

I really think letting us purposely spread that the app is now overly censored and the Meta buyout rumours is a tactic to further divide us. I really think, right now at least, the only thing they had to do was put "Thank You Donald Trump" in the return message, without having to actually change anything else, and then let folks go wild with the accusations, rumors, and conspiracies so then we all turn on the app ourselves and thus we won't cry about it being gone or that it gives us some falsely created moral high ground for deleting it/not using it anymore/etc and again will keep us more divided than together.

Literally this is destabilization tactics our government uses on other countries and it's own communities...

Thankfully there are creators on there who are also pointing this out as well as, just look at the comments on this post and you will see that others are saying, again in the US without a VPN you can still search these things in the post above.

It doesn't excuse the other fuckery definitely happening by any means but, they are letting us destroy ourselves and the 3rd space we created where we were the most united we've been on a platform in a while. They know how to push our buttons and we're all being played.

Already seeing people on tiktok saying “I still hate trump but he ate with this one” like … babes … you just got propagandized … that’s literally exactly what he created this situation in the hopes you would say …

[sleep-0-deprived]

Sirens touch~! (Kyle Garrick x male siren reader) 𓊝

WC:.2.1K

Tags: pwlp, anal sex, sex on a boat, monster x human, pheromones used as drugs, fish anatomy mentioned, bottom male reader, seduction themes, siren songs, handjobs, neck biting, blood mentioned 𓇼

A/N: this one is for @creepy141dollie hope Y’ like it, forgive if M’ descriptions of sirens are inaccurate, this was jus my thought process <33

Taglist: @kimisbunny @asher-is-hotxp @silvern1006 @unstab1eperson2 @yyuinaa @dewday1 @blond3ang3l @creepy141dollie @m4r13ll @ihavezeropancreas @sooobiinn @just-ignore-them @fuckingmxonlight @nightwinglover101 @chasingknives @littlelilithsposts

𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟𓆝𓆟𓆝

The air was fogged over and cold- rigidly so, you could almost taste the salt in the air when you breathed in the mist. Kyle wasn’t happy about this in the slightest, the moment price caught wind of makarov supposedly hiding somewhere across the sea, he had the whole task force on a ship on the ocean waters, that included Gaz too. Gaz walked around on the deck, he’d peek his head over the rails and stare into the nearly black abyss of water— god he could only imagine how cold that water must’ve been.

His eyes slowly widen when he sees something beneath the sheets of liquid, it was probably just a dumb fish swimming around. Garrick wasn’t made for the waters nor did he like them, sea sick was the only thing he ever got from it— and was that a person laying on that rock?…oh god the sea must be getting to him.

“I don’t see how sailors manage”

Gaz diverts his gaze to the passing soap, walking by and across the ship watching the other end- like what he was supposed to be doing but something felt off he couldn’t explain it, it all felt weird like bugs churning around in his stomach. He’d just cut it down to the waves giving him motion sickness.

“Are you gonna make it there gaz?”

He nearly jumps when ghost sneaks up on him standing behind him with his mask on letting his gaze pierce through the other male.

“You shouldn’t be so damn quiet- you’re gonna give someone a heart attack these days”

“Relax, I was just gonna ask if ye wanted to swap tasks- ye go to the lower deck N’ keep an eye out”

The man’s British accent creeping through his words only making Gaz sigh and nod, making his way down to the empty deck, his body felt a reaction the closer he got to the waters almost like something compelling him forwards. When the rock he had seen earlier came into view he could’ve sworn he saw a man with H/C hair laying there with a deep blue webbed ear. Before he knew it he felt his chest ache at that sight- why did he feel so much need over a man that probably was a figment of his lonesome imagination.

He leans against the rails, blinking once and frowning when he sees nothing on the rock, he almost feels sadness as the disappearance but before he can mourns it a hand is placed up on the ship from the loading area a few feet from him.

“Who’s there?!”

His voice rings empty in the fog, you slip your way up onto the deck while laying sprawled with a little grin. Tilting your head over almost like a curious cat— you weren’t used to not having your tail but you’d make having legs work. Gaz was practically lovestruck standing in his military gear and yet he felt just as defenseless as a common man before a gun.

“Aren’t you just a mean one?”

Your voice was angelic and he knew that you knew that, the way you slithered up on the deck like some serpent ready for its mean had him in a state of pure lust looking at you— Gaz was a weak man and the years of solitude without touch only made him weaker. Your prime prey, you liked a sweet man who was good at heart but had desperation— you could feed off the lust in his eyes alone.

Gaz started approaching you almost in a trance but you haven’t even used your song on him yet, this was pure free will.

“What the hell are you— a damn talking fish?”

“I’m not a damn fish— I’ll have you know I’m a siren”

You hiss your words at him growing irritated with it all, reaching your hand out to grasp hold of the man and pull him down with you having him beneath you on the deck. your body nude and cold from the see, your cock pressed flat down on your thighs while you click your tongue slowly tracing your cold fingers over his skin, humming your own siren song.

“Fuck, what the hell are you doing”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want me, everyone wants me.”

Your hands grip his shoulders speaking statements not questions, your cock was stiffening up when his bulge pressed to your plush cheeks almost giving it a friendly greeting making you push back down against his clothed member, Gaz’s hands roam down grabbing your hips instinctively gripping at the flesh with vigor while he stares up at you in a glossy eyed trance watching how your hands slid off his shoulder down his vest and to his cargo pants, pulling them down with a thud when you undo his tack belt letting it fall on the deck.

Your nails were sharp and pointed leaving chills on his thighs when your nails graze over the tip of his cock having it all wet and coated in pre cum when you finally get it out of his boxers. Your eyes narrow slightly glowing under the dim fog of the late noon sky, the ship rocking back and forth against the waves having Gaz feeling completely under your spell when you hum against his ear and press your lips to the side of his neck.

“God you’re…”

He wanted to say so many things in that moment but his lips quivered and stopped, all men acted that way— you couldn’t count the number of sailors who uttered those exact words to you. Gaz felt different you didn’t want to lure him into a seductive demise, you actually wanted him all for yourself.

“I already knoww~”

you hush him silently with your lips pressed to his Adam’s apple rubbing your sharp teeth to the flesh feeling tempted to just take a bite out of him. Your hand plays with his cock stroking the base and rubbing your thumb flush against the under side of his tip, right where you knew it was most sensitive.

“O-h fuck you’re good at this”

Kyle’s moan comes out strangled like a half laugh when he takes a gulp for the first time in his military years feeling nervous by something that looks so frail, your skin practically glowed sticky from the salt in the sea having your damp body in his lap feeing your bare ass on his thighs making his half lidded eyes just stare at it, he only looks away when he feels the sharp pain in his neck— you just bit him?

“Mhm, you just taste good enough to eat”

“Oh fuuck”

His groan just make you smile having his blood over your teeth like a fresh candy coating making your slit pupils dilate, licking up the blood off his neck leaving him with the mark of a siren when you aim his cock between your wet cheeks, grinning at his expression when his eyes clamp shut from the cold feel of your skin pressing to his manhood. You rock your hips back and forth letting go of his cock and reaching up to his jaw and gripping it tight while you lay hunched over him pressing your bitter and blue lips to his mouth kissing him- making him taste his blood off your tongue while he lays on his back on the deck.

“You want this so bad don’t you?”

“…yes…”

He mumbles mindlessly under you just staring you blankly in the eyes, his lips sloppily responding to yours with your cock standing barely stiff leaning a small pearl of pre cum with your blue webbed ears looking almost like a fin when they flick back and forth in satisfaction. His cock head rubbing between your cheeks and all up and down your crack rubbing against your twitchy ring of muscles.

“Tell me you want inside me- tell me now”

“…I want you, I wanna be inside you so bad”

Your mouth nibbles at his neck some more littering it in red marks having blood smears on his skin while his hips buck up under you making you let go of his jaw when he hisses from how your nails dug into his skin. Gaz presses into you slowly pushing his way inside of your vice, being a siren producing pheromones and natural lubricant around your rim, your holes weee designed to take— you were a being of lust- a Adonis of sex in every way but the name.

“Fuckin, please-“

If it wasn’t for how desperate Gaz was in this moment he may have passed out of humiliation, he hated the way his voice cracked when he begged for you sitting desperate with his cock half inside you prodding its way into the bunny tavern trying to spread and spear you open on his dick, you sit in his lap having your mouth latched on his feeling his moans muffled by your tongue when you bite on his bottom lip leaving little drops of blood mixing into the shared spit.

“Think you may be the biggest man I’ve taken in a very long time sailor”

You lift your hips up and slowly lower them back down on him while you let your hand find its way to his shoulders digging your nails through his gear and clawing a hole in the back of his shirt leaving marks on his rich skin. Your rim milks out the pre cum from his mushroomed head having his hands trembling on your hips while he pushes his spit down your throat.

“I’m not a damn sailor— I’m a captain”

His words come out strangled beneath you when he pulls his lips, tearing them away only to gasp for air. Your nails dig harder letting out soft moans when his cock rubs your prostate just right making you feel warm shrills up your spine having you feeling in a state of euphoria when you ride the man.

Your eyes creep back and you grow slicker around his cock taking it with ease, Gaz lets out heaved gasps beneath you. Not having fucked anything in a few solid years due to his job, his orgasm is on edge but he does his best to hold back not wanting to come too quick but boy if your insides weren’t practically begging it out of him right now.

“Stop or I’ll—“

Before he can even finish his sentence your hand creeps up off his back and over his mouth hushing his groans when you feel his cock start pulsing inside you reaching his high and flooding your insides with his semen leaving a warm feeling inside your ice cold body.

“Now you’re gonna be good and help me get off right?”

“Y-yes ofcourse”

He nods his head when you hum your song to him not even giving him time to come down from his orgasm when you remove your hand off his mouth and reach to the hand off your hips when you guid it down to your hardened cock, letting out a hiss when he touches the base. Gaz slowly starts stroking your cock and giving it a firm touches under your tip.

He starts stroking your cock a little faster gripping the base with your cock leaking a mess in his palm having you instinctively pushing your hips back down on his cock with the semen inside

“I’m getting close”

Gaz starts stroking your cock faster making you arch your back getting closer to edge with his hand snaking off your hips to your ass giving it a squeeze in time with his strokes. Pre cum starts oozing drink you all down your shaft making a mess when your voice cracks and your orgasm rushes over you, you grip his shoulders tight with your

“Oh fuck—“

“What is it fishy? You’re actin like this is your first orgasm”

You sneer down at him frowning when he says that, ropes of thin liquid shoots from your tip leaving stains on his gear. Your chest raises and falls rapidly practically glowing with your eyes rolling forwards to look down at him under you, sitting on top of him on the ship, you slowly raise up off of Gaz, semen starts oozing out of you and onto the ships deck, your rim twitches all puffy.

Before Garrick could even say anything to you, you were gone. The water flashed and it was like you were an imagination? Your figure lurked under the water then disappeared into the fog, sirens were never known to stick to one prey forever.

“Gaz? Mate what’re you doin?!”

There stood a flabbergasted soap, his mouth agape standing next to price with their eyes focused on a ruin captain kyle Garrick ‘Gaz’ laying covered in come with his pants around his ankles laying on his back, his cock limp and his eyes lidded clearly worn out.

[harrywavycurly]

Handle With Care: This Can’t Be Happening

Masterlist: here

CW: language, Harry is a bit of a dick

A/N: Harry is still a bit of an asshole but he is trying his best😂

Tag List: @gmikaelson @ell0ra-br3kk3r @tulips4harry @mellamolayla @mads3502 @empathyroad @idk199o @sassamanda77 @maudie-duan @macy-tpwk @coralferrio1

Summary: Avoiding you just got hell of a lot harder for Harry 📦✨

Harry is screwed. If he thought avoiding you while moving you into your new apartment was going to be hard then what he has to deal with now is damn near impossible, because as his luck would have it your new apartment is in the same complex as the one he just moved into not even two weeks ago. So his plan of never having to see you again after he places the last box on your new kitchen counter quickly goes down the drain because while the complex is big it’s not big enough for him to never have to risk bumping into on the elevator or the mail room that’s on the first floor.

Of course Niall is oblivious to Harry’s struggle as he stands in your new living room surrounded by boxes, having what Harry can only describe as the longest and most pointless conversation ever because all Harry wants to do is leave and go down two flights of stairs to his own apartment. As far as Harry is concerned they’ve done their job and he should be free to leave but he knows he can’t, Niall will have his ass on a silver platter if he so much as takes a step towards the front door.

“So you’ve got a couch and all that comin’ tomorrow?” Niall asks making you just nod as you stand in the kitchen that opens up to the living room.

“Yeah I have a couch and a coffee table I just need to uhm borrow my friend’s truck and go get it.” You answer as your eyes briefly dart to the box that has a fragile sticker that is upside down meaning the whole box is upside down. Harry instantly feels his hands get sweaty because he knows that’s the box he dropped, he can see you looking at it from where he’s leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom.

“You’re gonna load it and move it all by yourself?” Niall questions with a raised brow and you just shrug and of course just as you look over at Harry he decides to roll his eyes making you quickly look away. But he wasn’t rolling his eyes at you, he was rolling them at the way Niall is doing everything but ending this job like he’s supposed to be considering your three hours ended fifteen minutes ago.

“I was going to ask-”

“We’ll do it for you.” Harry feels his eyes nearly pop out of his skull as Niall so casually offers the two of them to move your new couch and other furniture for you. “Free of charge of course because I have a truck we can use and Harry doesn’t have shit else to do tomorrow right H?” Niall asks just to confirm as he turns to look at Harry who is doing everything in his power not to freak out on the blonde Irish dude he sometimes calls his bestfriend.

“Tomorrow? That’s my day off.” Harry states making sure his annoyance is evident in his tone, but of course Niall ignores it and just rolls his eyes.

“Exactly so you don’t have shit to do.” Harry feels his hands ball up into fists at his side as Niall turns to look back at you with a smile. “What time works best?” You open your mouth as if you’re going to say something but then close it as you look over at Harry who is glaring at the back of Niall’s head with his jaw clenched and his brows furrowed in what you can only assume is in anger.

“Thank you for the offer but it’s okay I’ll figure it out on my own.” Your voice is soft and the smile you give Niall is sweet and it makes the weird fluttery feeling start up in Harry’s chest.

“For fuck sake just tell us what time to be here.” The look of shock on your face is only there for a moment before you compose yourself and Harry honestly can’t tell who is more embarrassed in this very moment, you or him. He didn’t mean to sound so rude and annoyed because he’s not even annoyed with you, he’s annoyed at the man standing in front of you but naturally Harry can’t seem to get himself under control while you’re around so it came out harsher than he intended.

“Does eleven work for you love?” You just nod instead of saying anything and Harry knows it’s because you don’t want to say anything that might set him off and he wants to hit himself because he really doesn’t want you to be worried about upsetting him when all he’s done today is upset you. “Perfect we’ll see you then. Just text me if you need to change the time or the day okay?” Harry takes a few steps towards your front door as Niall walks over to you and gives your shoulder a friendly pat making you smile as you look up at him.

“Thanks.” Niall just returns your smile and gives you a little nod before he turns and heads for your door that Harry is standing in front of. “See you tomorrow.” With that Harry quickly opens the door and steps into the hallway, making his way towards the elevators while Niall quickly follows behind him.

“Harry I swear m’gonna proper kick your ass if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on with you.” Niall’s voice is harsh as he stands next to him while waiting for the elevator. “You’re never that big of an asshole to people you don’t even know and what’s with the faces?”

“What faces?”

“Your face it’s all-all scrunched up like you just got a whiff of something foul.” Harry lets out a sigh as he runs a hand over his face, if only Niall knew the truth. That Harry makes that face because he’s getting hit with a scent he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of, one he would happily be wrapped up tightly in for the rest of his life because it’s just so you, the smell of flowers and sunshine.

“There’s just something about her that’s throwing me off that’s all.” Harry tries to explain without sounding crazy, but Niall doesn’t buy it for a second because next thing Harry feels is a hand giving him a hard smack upside the head.

“Throwing you off? Just admit you fancy her and get on with it.” Before Harry can even deny the outrageous claim the elevator doors open and Niall walks in and pushes the parking lot button letting the doors close as Harry stands there with a look of annoyed shock on his face.

“Fuckin’ prick.” Harry mumbles to himself as he turns on his heels and heads for the door that leads to the stairs so he can meet Niall down by the truck.

“Oh shoot.” Harry freezes as your voice floats into his ears just as his hand grabs the doorknob to the entrance of the stairwell. You look like you ran to the elevators from your apartment because your cheeks are a little flushed and your hair is falling from the bun you put it up in halfway through the move. “I’ll just take-” your voice gets caught in your throat as you turn and see Harry standing at the door to the stairs.

“That’s mine.” He looks down at the hat in your hands with a quirked brow, not remembering when exactly he took it off.

“Yes I was uh bringing it down to you it-it was on my bed.”

“You could’ve just waited till tomorrow to give it to me.”

“Oh you’re coming tomorrow?”

“Well yeah? Niall can’t move a couch by himself now can he?” Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so mad at himself than he is in this moment as you just nod and hold the hat out for him to take, your eyes looking down at the floor for a second before looking back up at him.

“Right. But I just figured you wouldn’t want to spend your day off helping me so I thought he’d find someone else instead.” You flinch at the way Harry practically snatches the hat from you before he places it on his head backwards just like he had it when you first saw him outside your door.

“Yeah well he doesn’t have anyone else to ask. So I’m stuck doing it.” He snaps and in this moment Harry truly thinks he’s possessed because next thing he knows he’s opening the door to the stairs and walking through it letting it slam closed just a few inches away from where you’re standing as he starts making his way down to the parking lot.

“Everything will be fine. I just need a shower and some sleep.” He tells himself as he does his best not to think about the look on your face as the door closed or the fact he already misses the way your apartment smells.

Everything is very far from fine for Harry the next day, having forgotten to set an alarm he finds himself cracking his eyes open at ten till eleven. So naturally he is scrambling to get out of bed and dressed with no time to even make himself some coffee before he is opening his front door and sliding his phone into the back pocket of his jeans so he can meet Niall in the parking lot. Normally Harry is very observant, he rarely ever finds himself running into things or people but in this moment as he’s stepping out of the elevator he is still half asleep and the lack of caffeine is kicking him right in the ass so it’s not shocking that he crashes into someone just as they are entering the complex from the parking lot.

“What the-” Harry thinks he must be dreaming or maybe he’s stuck in a nightmare because when he looks down to check what or who he just collided with he’s met with a bouquet of flowers on the ground and your big eyes staring at him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t looking and-and I didn’t mean to run into you.” Now Harry isn’t a genius but he is smart enough to know that you aren’t the one who should be apologizing right now, he’s the one who barged out of the elevator without looking up to see if anyone was getting on.

But like the asshole you think he is, he just stands there not knowing what to say of how to process the fact he just rammed into you making you drop your flowers on the floor. He watches you bend down and try to pick up the bent stems and gather them into your hands, he sees the way your mouth droops into a sad frown when you pick up a few petals that fell off some of the flowers. Harry knows he should help you, tell you it wasn’t your fault and that he was in a rush and not paying attention but before he can even try to do that the door to the parking lot swings open and in walks none other than Niall who has an annoyed scowl on his face as soon as he sees Harry who is still just standing there.

“Harry what the hell? Been waitin’-what happened? You okay love?” You just stand up with the broken flowers in your hands and give Niall a small smile, one that Harry can tell isn’t genuine.

“I’m fine just clumsy that’s all.” Harry rolls his eyes at your cover story annoyed you didn’t just tell Niall the truth, that Harry ran into you and made you drop something because that’s all that he can seem to do when he’s around you, be an asshole who breaks your things.

“Harry are you just gonna stand there like a useless bag of dicks or you gonna move the fuck outta the way so she can get in the lift?” Niall’s harsh tone and rude words come as a shock to you but Harry is used to this kind of treatment when Niall has really reached the end of his patients with him. Harry just moves to the side allowing you to get into the elevator, you shoot him a soft smile that he has to ignore or he’ll get distracted by the way it makes his insides feel all warm and fuzzy so he just looks at Niall and takes a step towards the door that leads to the parking lot.

“I need coffee.” Niall rolls his eyes at Harry’s statement as he turns and follows Harry out into the parking lot while you press the button for your floor. The doors close but not before Harry quickly looks over his shoulder and catches your eyes and he tries, he really does try to give you a smile but Niall’s hand on his shoulder giving him a shove makes it turn into a bit of a scowl making you look away just as you disappear behind the metal doors.

“How the hell are we going to get her shit if she’s not with us?” Harry asks as he gets into the passenger seat of Niall’s small pickup truck.

“She texted me the address of the place and what all we are picking up for her. Didn’t see the point in makin her come with since it’s just a couch and a coffee table.” Niall’s answer makes sense, but it doesn’t sit well with Harry and he knows it’s because he doesn’t like the fact you and Niall have been texting like you’re good friends with each other while he can’t even seem to simply smile at you like a normal person.

“Well I need coffee before I can even think about moving a couch or a-”

“Yeah yeah you’ll get your damn coffee quit your whining.”

Harry just lets out a huff as he crosses his arms over his chest while Niall heads off in the direction of wherever it is you’re getting your living room furniture from. He takes this time to try to figure out why exactly you make him turn into the worst version of himself, he’s never acted like this around someone before and it really is starting to bother him. Harry hates the idea of you sitting at home thinking of all the ways he’s been rude to you, when in reality all he’s wanted to do is be nice and maybe find reasons to be around you all the time so he can get his fill of what’s becoming his favorite smell.

You try to busy yourself as you wait for Niall and Harry to show up with your couch and coffee table, deciding that you should take this opportunity to start unpacking your kitchen. Starting with the boxes on the counter you begin to put away your various glasses and cups, moving them around a few times until you finally find the perfect cabinet for them. When you get to the box that has the upside down fragile label you let out a sigh as you open it up just to find your plates and a few bowls broken, even though you took extra care and wrapped them in bubble wrap it wasn’t enough to help them when the box got dropped and somehow placed upside down.

“It was an accident.” You mumble to yourself so you don’t go feeling upset at Harry, even though you’re sure he wouldn’t really care if you were upset with him or not seeing as he doesn’t seem to like you very much. You pick up one of the broken plates and put it on the counter so you can see if anything managed to survive in one piece when you hear voices coming from behind your front door.

“Are you even lifting?”

“What? Yes I’m lifting you wank now just be a doll and get the door will ya?” You laugh as Niall’s loud voice makes its way through the door, you quickly walk over and unlock the front door allowing you to open it just as Harry was reaching for it.

“Shit.” Is all you hear before Harry practically falls into your apartment making Niall drop his side of the couch when he sees Harry go down and land flat on his bottom while the couch slips out of his hold.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t-”

“Oh don’t worry about him he’s fine.” Harry shoots Niall a glare as he stands up so he can bend down and grab his side of the couch. “Doin a bit of unpacking huh? That’s always the worst part of moving.” Niall says with a smile as he lifts his side of the couch while Harry begins to walk backwards through your door, you just smile and nod as you move out of their way so they can place the couch in the living room.

“Yeah I thought it would be smart to start with-”

“What’s all this?” Harry feels his cheeks get hot as Niall walks over to your counter and points at the broken plate as he takes a look inside the box that’s full of broken dish ware.

“Uh I accidentally dropped it.” Harry hates how effortlessly you keep covering for him, how you don’t even bat an eyelash or miss a beat as you take responsibility for whatever messed up thing Harry’s done. “But it’s fine it’s just a few plates.” You explain as Niall turns to look at you with a hand on his hip.

“She didn’t-”

“Would either of you like a donut?” You ask just as Harry was about to tell Niall the truth about the box, you look from Niall over to Harry who just quirks an eyebrow at you. “I uhm got them this morning while I was out getting a few things.” Niall takes a moment to look at the way you and Harry are staring at each other before he shakes his head.

“That’s real nice of you love but I’m good.” He says politely declining your offer, you look away from Harry and smile as you head back into your kitchen.

“Uh Harry? Would you-you like one?” You hate how nervous you sound as you hold the box out, you know he’s just going to say no or possibly not say anything at all and just head out your front door to go grab your coffee table. So when he just stares at you and gives you the smallest nod before he takes a few steps towards you all you can do is stare at him in shock.

“Thanks.” He mumbles making you smile and feel your cheeks go a bit pink as he reaches a hand out and grabs one from the box. You feel silly for letting one simple word make you feel all smiley and giddy but you can’t help it since it’s the nicest thing he’s said to you since meeting him yesterday morning.

“Right well we have one last thing to grab and then we will be outta your hair.” Niall’s voice snaps Harry out of his trance as he swallows thickly and turns to head towards your front door, donut in hand. You just nod and close the box and turn to place it back on the counter so you can get back to unpacking.

“Oh you’ve got it so fucking bad mate.” Niall teases once the two of them are down the hallway near the elevators.

“I do not.” Harry snaps before he takes a bite out of his donut and if he was alone he would’ve let out a sigh at how good it tastes.

“Harry I watched your eyes practically turn into hearts when she asked if you wanted a donut so don’t try to lie to me.” Niall watches with amusement as Harry just rolls his eyes as he finishes off his donut, in record time because he doesn’t think he’s ever tasted anything so good before.

“You’re so dramatic you didn’t see shit.” Is all Harry can say as the two men enter the elevator, and Harry has to remind himself that Niall doesn’t know he’s the reason your plates and flowers are ruined. Because if he did then Niall wouldn’t be convinced he has feelings for you, he would be kicking his ass for being such an asshole towards you.

“Whatever you say lover boy.” Niall wiggles his eyebrows when Harry looks over to send him a glare and it’s in this moment that Harry begins to wonder if maybe, just maybe Niall could be right. What if he does have some kind of infatuation with you and that’s why he’s acting the way that he is, but then Harry begins to think of all the things he’s said and done to you that would make you want nothing to do with him and he feels as if his heart is dropping to his stomach as he lets out a sigh.

“She’s way too nice for me.” Harry mumbles mostly to himself just as the doors open and Niall leads the way to the parking lot having no clue the internal struggle his bestfriend is having over the thought of the girl who lives two floors above him not liking him because of all the horrible things he’s done in the short time he’s known her.

[keepthedelta]

#in general i find the whole racing versus winning thing to be very interesting#and the way some drivers believe in the sanctity of racing and others believe in the sanctity of winning fascinates me

Deltinha can you expand on this concepts? I got fascinated by them after reading the tags.

Thanks!

it kind of started when i listened to some of the sky sports podcasts where they were talking about the mclaren team orders situation. and i found what jenson said versus what nico said to be very interesting.

jenson was defending mclaren's policy of just letting their drivers fight it out on track, arguing that the racing was what the sport was supposed to be about. but then when nico was asked about it (on a different episode) he argued that mclaren should be using team orders to help lando because the point of the championship was to win, and you have to take every advantage you have because you don't know if or when you're going to get another chance.

and it made total sense to me that each of them was making that particular argument given who each of them is. jenson's whole thing is racecraft, he has such a unique driving style and was so admired for his racecraft even when he wasn't the fastest driver that it made sense for him to value the actual racing element above anything else. when he was talking about the team orders and mclaren's history of not issuing team orders, he said that he and lewis took wins off of each other, and if they'd been given team orders one of them probably could have won a championship [during the vettel/red bull dominance years]. but i think jenson could only say that because he already got his fairytale championship in 2009, and because he has canada 2011 to his name. if he didn't have those, particularly the wdc, i think he would look at his mclaren years very differently. and although jenson beat lewis across a season, lewis was overall the stronger driver, and if mclaren had given team orders, it's quite likely jenson would have been the one ordered to help lewis rather than the other way around. so in that sense, mclaren not having team orders and prioritising the "racing" helped jenson out a lot.

equally i think it makes total sense that nico values the winning over the racing. he spent a very long time being a very good driver in very bad cars, and when he finally got a good car, he had to face off against the most successful driver of all time. so it makes sense that the racing is not enough for nico, because it was never enough to be good, or even great, it was important to win. all of the effort he put in, the extremes he went to were not about becoming a better racer, they were about winning, and being able to call himself a champion. since retiring he's said that the only part of formula one he missed was winning, and although he's remained a part of the racing world, he's never raced again, unlike jenson who has raced in multiple other series. in the end it was the winning that fulfilled nico, and once he had that, he felt able to explore other worlds. additionally, i think nico's insecurities/self-esteem issues really affect this. he said in an interview that he didn't believe in himself at all throughout his career. while other drivers have talked about the need to view themselves as the best driver, and believe that given the right circumstances they can be champion, nico talked about how he never believed that, and so the thing that kept him going was his commitment to it. he committed to that championship 100% because he believed in the value of it. and that's why i think he argued that mclaren should have given team orders to help lando because he believes in the inherent value of a championship and of winning, and believes that you should commit to that, even if you don't win, rather than hoping the win comes to you.

there are some drivers that talk about racing as a priority and some that talk about winning as a priority, and i think it's interesting to see which is which, and why they've come to that conclusion. and with charles specifically, i think it would be incredibly interesting to see him choose between winning with anyone for the sake of winning over the possibility of winning with ferrari because of the ferrari of it all. what matters more to him, a championship, or a potential championship with ferrari?

[uceyliyahh]

BABY BOY

Summary: Chantel was backstage watching her best friend Jey cut his promo for his upcoming match against Gunther for the World Heavyweight Championship but things between the two get hectic causing him to earn a busted lip, but things between you two get heavy.

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (M receiving), praises, daddy kink, mama, ma, baby girl, fingering, busted lip, two best friends that are in denial about their feelings for each other, fluff at the end :)

word count: 3,945

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

this will be my first time doing a one-shot so I hope y'all enjoy it, this will be in first person also 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign @ctinadiva @celesteheartsjey @duhitzkay380 @luuvprincess

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic

@hunnidmilly @celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @luvrsluxe @4milly @xbriexx @trippinsorrows @yyaktayak @yana3sworld @theusotwinzcom

CHANTEL

As I sat in Jey's locker room, scrolling through my Twitter feed, I was overwhelmed by the wave of negativity directed at my best friend. It was truly nauseating to witness all the hate he was receiving; it just didn't add up. Yet, I understood that he was far from indifferent about it. True to his nature, Jey maintained a laid-back attitude, even in the face of such adversity.

I could tell he was completely in the zone tonight, engaging with his fans about his upcoming match against Gunther. Honestly, I wasn't a fan of his attitude; he came off as overly cocky. As I heard a knock at the door, I stood up from the couch and made my way over to see who it was.

As I swung the door open, there he stood—imposing and impressive. Truly, his genetics were a blessing, as he looked fantastic for the evening. His mullet, a striking red and flowing long, was perfectly faded on both sides. He sported a Dallas Yeet Stars shirt, paired with black sweats that playfully revealed his pink boxers beneath. Accentuating his look were a Cuban silver chain, stylish piercings, vibrant pink glasses, and classic Air Force Ones.

His presence was nothing short of captivating, standing at an impressive 6’2”, a striking contrast to my own 5’2” stature. The way he flashed his dazzling smile, adorned with grills, only added to his allure.

“You ready to go mamas?” he asked while holding his hand out.

As I intertwined my small hands with his larger ones, I nodded in agreement, and together we strolled toward the gorilla. However, he needed to perform his special entrance, so he guided me to a spot where I could enjoy watching him on the screen instead.

“How are you feeling about this?” I asked him.

“I’m feeling pretty confident about it, I’m ready to be a world heavyweight champion speak my mind you know,” I nodded my head in agreement admiring his pretty features of his face.

Since the moment I met Jey at the gym where I used to work out, I’ve been smitten. Our conversations flowed effortlessly, and we quickly became close, enjoying exciting dates and spending time at each other’s places. With every shared experience, my feelings for him deepened, yet he remained unaware of the intensity of my emotions.

At least that’s what I thought.

We finally reached the Gorilla position, where he gently kissed my forehead before heading out to make his entrance, kicking off the show. We shared a warm hug, and as I stepped inside, I greeted Triple H and the rest of the team.

I settled into the chair, captivated by the television show as I listened to the crowd erupt in cheers for him. This man radiated an incredible presence, and witnessing the adoration from his fans filled me with joy. It was truly uplifting to see someone so deserving of love and appreciation.

He descended the steps, radiating like a star, captivating everyone around him. As he made his way down, he engaged with a little boy, both of them joyfully waving their hands in the air. The crowd behind him mirrored their excitement, and in a delightful moment, the little boy reached out for a high five, which Jey happily returned as he continued his descent.

I watched as Gunther entered the Gorilla position, the World Heavyweight Championship draped over his shoulders. He focused intently on Jey, who was on the screen engaging with Michael Cole, before making his way into the ring.

He kept engaging with the audience, allowing his music to play on before finally seizing the mic to address them. Michael Cole had me in stitches with his energetic antics, bouncing around the stage with such enthusiasm.

As Jey prepared to address the audience, the atmosphere electrified with the crowd erupting into a chant of "yeet" that echoed throughout the arena, drowning out his voice before he even had a chance to begin.

He began to speak, “I said” he continues on, “Main Event Jey Uso is now in yo’ cityyyy,” he shouted while the crowd was cheering for him.

“Y’all already know what I’m about say tho right? At Saturday’s Night Main Event, imma beat Gunther and become the new—“ that’s when Gunther music began to hit cutting Jey off from his speech.

I noticed him removing his pink yeet glasses, a hint of nostalgia in his expression as he awaited Gunther's arrival. As I mentioned earlier, his cocky demeanor didn't sit well with me, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him while glancing at the screen.

The audience erupted in boos as he emerged from the Gorilla position. I found myself silently joining in the disapproval. Gunther ascended the steel steps, making his way into the ring, all while Jey shot him a fierce glare as he clutched the microphone.

His music cuts as the crowd went silent before he could speak into the mic, “what I saw back there it just made me realize that you aren’t on my level Jey,”

“you come out here yeeting with the crowd forgetting about our conversation the other day like it didn’t mean anything to you,” Gunther said.

“you sit right in front of me here, and you look me in the eye and you said, every morning when you wake up, you in the mirror and you bet on yourself,”

I was uneasy about how this situation was unfolding, especially with Jey staring at him as if he were out of his mind, while the crowd reacted with disbelief.

“And you know what? The thing is , I really believed you I was actually looking forward to Saturday Night Main Event to get in the ring and square with main event Jey Uso.”

The audience erupted in cheers of "yeet" as Jey stood there, gazing intently into his eyes. He continued to speak passionately, his words flowing endlessly, until he unexpectedly mentioned Jimmy, momentarily catching Jey off guard.

“Don’t speak on my brother Jimmy—“

“Or what? I’m just saying look around you Jey, you are like a mascot to this crowd,” he said as the crowd began booing him.

“You know what you’re right Uce, I am a mascot aight? You right yet again, but here’s the thing though this right here, this is my team,” Jey said.

“This right here is my squad, cuz they ride with me, slide with me and on Saturday they gonna be with me when I beat you for the world heavyweight championship uce,” The crowd was cheering for him meanwhile I was in the Gorilla listening to him being confident.

That’s what I loved about him he was so confident in what he was saying and I had faith in him as his best friend maybe even more at that until Gunther brought up my name in the conversation.

“Okay then what about Chantel then? Is she gonna ride with you, slide with you?” He said.

“Aye, don’t bring her up in all of this, this is between you and I, me and you. I told you i respected you uce,” Jey took a slight pause, “but Gunther, you gonna respect me too, you’re gonna put some respect on my name,”

I seen that Jey had slight smirk in his face, “Cuz there’s only one of us standing in this ring right now that main evented Wrestlemania and it ain’t you,” that’s when he dropped the mic mean mugging and Gunther threw his title at him at they both began to go at it with each other.

The audience erupted in cheers of "yeet" as Jey stood there, gazing intently into his eyes. He continued to speak passionately, his words flowing endlessly, until he unexpectedly mentioned Jimmy, momentarily catching Jey off guard.

As Gunther attempted to retaliate, Jey's strength and aggression overwhelmed him, forcing him against the turnbuckle where he took a brutal beating, all while I cheered enthusiastically from the gorilla position.

Gunther attempted to retaliate by shoving him aside, but Jey swiftly countered with a super kick to his face as he rolled out of the ring, leaving his championship belt behind.

That’s where I could see blood coming from his lip that fool done busted my bestie’s lip Jey grabbed his title shouting “c’mon!” “C’mon!” As Gunther was telling him to not touch his title.

Once the commercial break began, I rose from my seat and noticed Gunther storming backstage, clearly furious. My mind, however, was preoccupied with concern for Jey and his injured lip.

When I noticed him walking in with a bleeding lip, my immediate instinct was to rush over, filled with concern for his well-being.

“I’m okay mama, I promise,” Jey said softly.

“You’re not okay, c’mon so I can get you cleaned up “ I said as I took him to the medical room.

As I prepared to tend to his injured lip in the medical room, I could feel his discomfort. He always dreaded this part of the process. Sitting on the medical bed, he watched my every move with a mix of apprehension and resignation.

I approached him, maneuvering between his legs with everything I required. Gently, I took his hand away from his lip, noticing the blood still trickling. As I prepared to treat the wound, I poured hydrogen peroxide onto a cotton ball and pressed it firmly against the injury, eliciting a sharp hiss from him.

"I understand that this is painful, and I truly empathize with you. However, you need to trust me on this, Jey. I have to keep applying pressure to your lip, so please bear with me."

As I tended to his wound, I barely noticed his gaze fixed on me. It felt as if he had something on his mind, a message he longed to convey, yet he struggled to find the right words.

I looked up at him as he kept his eyes fixed on me, causing me to shy away from his gaze while I tended to the cut on his lip.

I carefully tended to his wound, applying cream to promote healing for the moment. As I organized the first aid kit, I sensed his gaze fixed on me, a silent acknowledgment of the care I was providing.

“Why did you avoid my gaze, Chanti?” He asked as I heard his footsteps coming towards my way while my back was turned against him.

I chose not to reply, fully aware of how this conversation would unfold. I wasn't ready to confront my feelings for him in such a way. "I'm not sure what you mean, Jey," I said, as I carefully returned the first aid kit to the glass cabinet and shut the door.

His body pressed against mine, effortlessly spinning me around, his towering 6'2" frame looming over me and making me feel diminutive. We remained in silence, the air thick with unspoken words between us.

I found myself captivated by his deep brown eyes, taking in the warmth of his caramel skin and the striking tribal tattoos that adorned him perfectly. The thought that this incredible man could be mine was driving me wild with desire.

As his fingers intertwined with mine, he pressed a soft kiss to my palm, drawing me nearer to his warmth. This was a moment I had longed for but never found the courage to voice. It was as if he understood my unspoken desires all along, sensing my feelings without a single word exchanged.

As we gazed deeply into each other's eyes, a silent search unfolded between us. Suddenly, he leaned in, his breath warm against my ear as he pressed a gentle kiss on my cheek. In that intimate moment, he whispered words that would send my heart racing. “Chanti, you’re terrible at concealing your emotions, you realize that?”

I pretended to be taken aback by his words, stammering, “W-what do you mean?” I could hear him chuckle softly, the sound slipping from his lips.

“Mama, c’mon. I’m not dumb I know you want something so just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” I couldn't shake the thought that if I allowed this to persist, our friendship would be irreparably damaged.

Looking deeply into his eyes—fuck it I stood on my tippy toes placing a peck on his lips while backing away from him to see how he would react to my sudden kiss.

He needed a moment to absorb everything before responding to my kiss, which prompted me to babble nervously, “I’m sorry, oh my gosh, I’m really sorry. I-I didn’t mean to—,” but before I could finish, he pressed his lips against mine, and instinctively, I found myself wrapping my arms around his neck.

We found ourselves lost in a fervent kiss, something we had both longed for but never dared to mention. Jey lifted me effortlessly by my thighs, carrying me to the medical bed where he gently laid me down, positioning himself between my legs, his lips still pressed against mine.

I could feel him rubbing his hardened member against my damp underwear, and I could taste the blood escaping from his lips, preserving its wonderful flavor.

His tongue danced within my mouth before trailing down to my neck, where he began to suck gently, reminiscent of a ravenous vampire savoring its meal. The sensation made me let out a soft moan right into his ear.

Tugging on his mullet.

I wanted more and so did he.

I threw back my head in delight as I moaned his name softly for only him to hear, feeling his fingers slithering down my damp panties and pressing them on the fabric of my underwear.

Even though he didn't touch me, I could feel my smooth folds growing wet for him. Jey pushed two fingers inside my wet cunt and pumped them in and out of me after he slid my panties to the side to observe how wet I was for him.

I gripped his shoulders and moaned his name while his fingers were entering my warm, moist cunt, kissing my cheek and neck tenderly and sweetly.

Jey kissed my full lips and muttered, "You have no idea how much I wanted to do this with you, Chanti."

“Me too..I was worried it will ruin our friendship,” I whispered back.

Jey shook his head as he spoke, “No way, mamas. This will only strengthen our friendship, but I want to be more than just your best friend, Chanti. I want to be your man, if you’ll allow me.” Deep down, I longed for him to be my man. Our adventures together, especially during our travels, had only deepened my feelings for him.

He kept pushing his fingers in and out of me, making me tremble beneath his touch, but I didn't answer him as I put my lips on his and our lips moved in unison.

Our lips remained together as he took down my shorts and underwear, and the way his fingers glided inside of me drove me crazy until he pulled them out, leaving me to whine from the emptiness.

As we moved apart, I saw him pull down his sweatpants, including his pink boxers, and my eyes widened as I saw his dick pop up and strike his stomach. It was big, meaty, and long, and I wasn't sure if it would fit me.

“but c’mere and use them pretty lips,” he said as I obeyed his request getting down on my knees knowing that the floor was cold as hell but I didn’t care.

I placed my hair in a ponytail making sure that it was secured properly while grabbing his shaft stroking it up and down seeing pre-cum dripping from the peephole, I gazed up at him seeing him looking down at me—Jesus the way he was staring me down was insane.

As he flung his head back, I started to move my lips up and down toward the end of his hardened dick, giving it nothing but beautiful kisses. I then swirled my tongue around his mushroom tip, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum as it came out and dripped all over him.

“Fuck,” Jey moaned.

He was attempting to fight the impulse to grasp my ponytail and face fuck me, but he just let me take charge of the situation as I bobbled my head on his dick and stroked it up and down while listening to his delicious moans exiting his lips.

There was a lot of salvia surrounding his dick, which made it easier for me to stroke him or suck him off, but I still bobbled my head up and down on his shaft, allowing his dick to hit me in the back of my throat, causing me to gag on it.

Jey wrapped his hand around my ponytail and began moving his hips pushing his dick down my throat again causing me to gag.

“Yeah, keep gagging on that shit,”

“Relax yo’ throat for me mama,” I did what he said relaxing my throat and let him face fuck me.

I kept circling my tongue around his attractive tip, tasting all of the saltiness from it, and inhaling through my nose while taking his length within my throat.

His moans were like music to my ears, “mhm…keep goin, keep goin’ for me mamas,” he moaned while speeding up his pace inside of my mouth.

I gripped his thighs, feeling that popping sound come in and out of my mouth. At this point, my lips were swallowing him whole, getting crimson and forcing me to look up at him.

I could feel him growing inside of my mouth while my tongue was glides through his shaft while I was playing with his balls, squeezing a bit that’s when he pulled out of my mouth. “C’mere,”

He lifted me off my knees, grabbing me up by the thighs and carrying me over to one of the chairs in the room where I was now straddle on his lap. I stood up, watching him stroking his mushroom tip over my slippery moist folds before I could sink down onto him.

Once I did a groan escape from both of our lips as I began bouncing up and down on his dick Jey held onto my ass cheeks firmly guiding my movements.

“Oh, fuck, Jey,” I moaned.

Jey was kissing me all over my chest, neck, and lips as I continued to bounce on his dick like no other. All you could hear was flesh smacking against one other reverberating around the room, hoping no one could hear us.

He drew me closer to his body, muttering nothing but wicked things in my ear, which just made me wetter for him. "You such a good girl for me baby girl, taking all of me in," he cooed at me.

“Yeah? Daddy?” I responded back to him.

"Yeah, make daddy nut baby," As I continued to bounce on his lap, I felt him whacking my left ass cheeks, and I moaned at the sensation; his dick was caressing my cervix so gently that I could see stars at this point.

Digging his claws into my hips, "fuckk it's so good baby," my eyes were rolling in the back of my head as I bent towards his face, planting my lips on his, and we began a vicious passionate exchange as both of our tongues competed for control.

I was tossing my ass in circles on his dick, which was hitting my g-spot so wonderfully as my wet cunt was saturating his dick so well that he could simply pump in and out of me so easy. "This pussy feels so good baby girl," he whispered between the kiss.

"Tell daddy that you love him and only him," he said, letting me feel every inch of him hammering hard into my sticky walls, crying out for him and only him.

When I didn’t respond to his question he whacked me in the ass cheek causing me to whine, “I love you! Only you Joshua!” I cried out.

Jey enjoyed watching me crumble below as both of our lips swelled from the intensity of our make-out session. I tugged on his bottom lip before returning for the kiss, pulling on his mullet and craving for more of him, lapping my tongue inside of his mouth while he did the same.

I could feel a knot form in my stomach, indicating that I was ready to come. Jey threw his muscular arms around my waist and began thrusting his hips more and deeper inside of me, while I dug my nails into his shoulders, which he didn't seem to mind at all.

At this point, I was overwhelmed and emotional, tears welling up in my eyes as I buried my face into his neck as he fucked me senselessly. The more he struck my g-spot, the closer I was to my climax.

“F-fuckk, Jey. I’m finna cum,” I whisper softly in his ear.

“Yeah? C’mon make a mess on me Ma, give it to me,” the way he was talking me through was driving me towards the oblivion.

Jey kept talking to me through it while he pummeled my insides saying sweet whispers in my ear that were vulgar and nasty to point where I was about to explode on him. “I-it’s coming! Oh fuck it’s coming!” I warned him.

I held onto him tightly as he was beating my shit in causing me to let out a loud moan escaping my lips screaming his whole government name while doing so, I could feel my milky cream coating his dick up hearing nothing but sticky sounds coming from it.

My body began trembling and shake underneath him but that didn’t stop him from getting his nut he was determined to get his right after mine.

I could feel his movements getting sloppier and sloppier each second losing himself under me causing him to grip onto my ass while bucking his hips deeper into me, “fuck I’m finna nut,” I could feel his dick twitching inside of me when he had said that, “where you want it at mama?” Jey grunted.

“I want you to nut in me Jey, fucking nut all up in yo’ pussy,” I mewled out breathlessly.

“My pussy? This all mine baby?” I nodded my head.

He didn’t waste no time pumping his dick in and out of my now sensitive walls while he bucked his hips upward feeling his warm seeds emptying out inside of me like a volcano eruption shooting my inner walls up so good leaving him speechless.

Jey had pulled out from me as me and him stayed together in that position trying to contain our breathing while he began running his fingers down my back to soothe me placing a kiss on my forehead.

I found myself half-naked on his lap, resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat gradually slowing. As I looked up at him, I noticed he was gazing back at me, and a playful smile spread across my face.

“You so pretty mamas like for real though,” Jey said.

“Thank you, you’re handsome yourself sir can’t believe that you’re mine now,” I said as he chuckled at me.

“Baby, I’ve been yours since the beginning but c’mon so that we can get dressed before anyone comes around,” I nodded my head as me and him began putting back our clothes on.

- fin 🩵

A/n: I hope yall enjoy this one-shot lmk in the comments below.

STAY UCEY.

[crowsofdarkness]

Moment Of Weakness: Chapter Twenty Three

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence, kidnapping, faking a pregnancy.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Authors Note: I just wanted to remind everyone who reads this, there are heavy moments of cheating/having an affair in this story. You might not agree with the actions of "reader" or Bucky but it does pertain to the storyline. If anyone is interested, tags are open for this! Just send me a message or comment!

Tags: @cjand10 @generalmoonpolice @sapphirebarnes @baw1066 @nameless-ken @minami97

I let out a deep breath while pulling my jacket closer to my chest as I continued the walk down the busy streets of New York City. It was after six in the evening and everyone was rushing to get home to enjoy the rest of their evening while I was trying to make it to the office in time, before he left. 

This wasn’t an easy decision I made, knowing the consequences that could follow. But I didn’t have any other choice. He was the only one that could help me with this.  

The thought of if he would even want to help me did cross my mind a few times, especially with how things ended, but there was a small part of me that hoped his feelings for me were still strong. Strictly to help me with my problem, nothing else. 

I hadn't talked to any of the three men I used to work with, deciding to stay off of social media because I couldn’t bother to see what happened with Bucky and Natasha. By now, he had to have realized that I was right; Natasha was faking the entire pregnancy. 

Yet, I hadn’t heard from him so maybe he still decided to stay with her. 

You told him to stay away. Eight months ago.

Shaking away the thought, I turned the corner and the all too familiar building came into view as with one last deep breath, I pushed through the door and my eyes landed on the person sitting at what used to be my desk. My heart hammered in my chest as his scent filled my senses. 

“Well, it seems like the job isn’t available anymore, huh?” 

He turned around in a haste in the chair, eyes grazing over every inch of me to make sure I had been standing in front of him. 

The last time we talked was a few months ago and we actually hadn’t seen each other since before I quit. He looked the same, hair and beard a bit longer. 

“Hi Steve,” I smiled. 

“Y/N?” 

Steve was quick on his feet to wrap his arms around me and lifted my body off of the ground a few inches. I closed my eyes at the warmth, silently missing him just as much. 

“How have you been?” Steve asked while setting me back onto solid ground. 

I nodded. “Good, I guess. How have things been here?” 

Steve hesitated, his shoulders going stiff. “Have you talked to him at all?” 

This time I shook my head so Steve gently led me to the couch in the main area of the office and we sat next to each other. He scratched at his beard, trying to find the right way to say this. 

“He’s gone rogue the last couple of months. He doesn't need mine or Sam’s help for anything, he takes care of the problems himself.” 

I pointed towards his office. “Is he here?” 

Steve shook his head. “I haven't seen him all day. He called me earlier to say he’s got something to take care of so he’s going to be at Power Brokers tonight.” 

My eyes narrowed. “He hates that club. Why would he go there?” 

“I don’t know,” Steve sighed. “He doesn’t tell Sam or I anything anymore. We only show up here now in case he needs us.” 

“Are he and Nat-?” 

He placed a hand on my knee, stopping the words. “That’s something Bucky has to talk to you about.” 

With a slow nod, I contemplated my next move because I knew that if I went to Power Broker tonight, it would be a disaster from the start. That club was highly known as a black market, people trying to sell you things that you couldn’t buy anywhere else. But if you didn’t agree to it it would be highly unlikely that you would make it back out alive. 

“Are you going to tell me why you showed up tonight?” 

I gave Steve my attention now and shrugged. “Trust me, I would rather go to anyone else with this but Bucky is the only one that can help me.” 

He cupped my cheek. “Please be careful.” 

“Always,” I covered his hand with my own. 

The music of the club vibrated against my bones as I maneuvered my way through the seas of people, who did their best to either dance with me or sell me on their latest project they had hiding in their pocket. I ignored all of them, keeping my focus on finding the one person that I needed. 

When I asked the bouncers outside if they had seen Bucky, they were quick to give him up. 

“He’s been causing problems here all night but refuses to leave. The men we have here isn’t nearly as strong as he is to kick him out.”

I was on high alert, skin tingling with my senses, as I observed the giant open dance floor of the club until some commotion at the bar piqued my interest. I watched as a guy was thrown onto the glass bar top, black and gold fingers wrapped around his throat. 

“Where is she?!” 

The voice was deep, angry, and wanted to know the answers. 

My heart beat intensified as I marveled at how different he looked yet looking exactly the same. The brown leather vest that covered his broad chest was missing a sleeve, his entire vibranium arm on full display.  He didn’t look like a mob boss any longer but more so a soldier. 

The heat pooled between my legs but I squeezed them shut, knowing that now wasn't the time to think about that. 

“I swear, I don’t know where she is! Last I heard, they were in Budapest!” The man struggled for his life under the tight grip around his throat. 

“They were together?” 

The man on the bar nodded, as best he could. “That’s what my guys tell me.” 

As I saw a glimmer of sharp metal emerge from the pocket of the other man's vest, I finally decided to speak up. 

“Bucky.” 

My voice might have been hushed with the background noise of the club but I knew he heard because Bucky looked away from the man he had pinned, his once blue iris now dark stared back at me. The firmness in his body faded with his face softing, as he dropped the man to the floor below. 

“Doll?” 

I swallowed thickly at the old pet name because I couldn't get distracted, I needed to finish what I came for. 

“I need your help,” I admitted with a sigh. 

[demidevil-dog]

I think it also should be said that the characters aren't really 'siblings' in any realistic, or otherwise grounded way.

• The primarchs, save for Alpharius & Omegon, did not grow up together or even know of each other until well past adulthood.

• The primarchs don't really look or act related (again, except for the Alpha boys). They all seem to have a different race and ethnicity so, genetically they're all doing their thing

• Depending on the legion, they don't even see themselves as brothers brothers past anything ceremonial.

• Same thing with Astartes only even more so because they only really share geneseed and not much else genetics wise. (Save for that one time the blood angels had like, a couple of honest to god siblings?)

• And as far as Astartes/Primarch relationships go, I'd argue the only objectionable part of that would be may e the power dynamics (and hey. Some people are into that, so.)

And to be fair! I'd imagine it is kind of an adjustment getting used to characters who all talk to each other with family terms, but it's not necessarily unheard of. Like the concept of sworn brothers in Chinese literature, or brotherhood in the religious sense.

But even so, if it's not your jam or it icks you out that's your prerogative! Although I would suggest maybe not interacting with the Fandom of Tumblr too much then, since a lot of the content here, Warhammer or not, is ship based so there's just gonna be a lot of that here regardless.

But if all else fails, you can always hide the tags or block and move on.

Ferrus just lovin his lil bird

Fulgrim with his hand on what matters the most

[bamgyuuuri]

hiii can u do the boys when they love another member’s gf? i love angst hehe and i love your works!

⤷ washing machine heart ┈ ot5.

pairings and tags. lovesick!ot5 x members'!gf . angst . yearning . guilt . suppressing feelings . denial . longing . inner turmoil/conflict . lmk if i missed any!!

word count. 0.9k

short note ... AAA i love love love this req! thank you so much for sending me this, anon! and so so sorry that this took so long too T_T nevertheless, i hope u like it <3

soobin .ᐟ

my soobie toobie woobie :( i feel like he would be the type to silently shoulder his emotions, sometimes even trying his hardest to convince himself that his feelings aren't real or that they didn't matter. he'd go and overanalyze every interaction, making sure he isn't overstepping any boundaries he made himself,,, around her, even with the others present, he'd be more reserved and shy, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by nervous laughter, maybe even going as far as avoiding eye contact altogether or making up excuses to leave the room. he would also maintain a safe distance, actively making sure he's never put in the same room as her. in the end, he'll choose to simply suppress his emotions and feelings entirely, prioritizing the happiness of his dear friend and the peace of the group over his own </3

yeonjun .ᐟ

oh jjunie,,, at first, he'd be in denial; he'll try to convince and tell himself that it was just his fleeting thoughts, that his heart totally did not just do multiple flips after seeing one of his bestfriend's girlfriend smile of all people. but the more he dwells on that thought, the deeper his feelings become, until it's too much to ignore. yeonjun would find it hard to be his usual self around her, trying to play it cool, but in the end, he crumbles completely. as a deeply loyal friend, thinking of and having feelings towards his bestfriend's girlfriend would weigh heavily on him, and he might even try to overcompensate, showing excessive support for their relationship by saying things like, "you're so lucky to have her!" or "you guys are perfect for one another!" so he doesn't feel as awful (it doesn't work) :(((

beomgyu .ᐟ

an actual hopeless romantic :( it would most probably hit him the hardest once he actually realizes his feelings,, his first reaction would be disbelief; he would likely tell himself too that it was just a tiny crush, but the more he suppresses it, the more he'd find it impossible to ignore the pangs of longing and guilt that comes with it. he'd be more "silly" and hyper around her, a mask he puts up so his real feelings doesn't show, only to later regret it once he's alone with his thoughts. as a way to silently express his yearning, he would stay up late, using his talent as an escape, writing songs about her and pouring his emotions into music rather than towards her directly. ultimately, he would try to distance himself one way or another too, even if it left him quietly hurting </3

taehyun .ᐟ

my tyun :(( his level-headed nature would make him approach the situation with as much logic as possible, even though emotions are never entirely rational. he would keep his interactions with her polite but distant, avoiding anything that could be misinterpreted, but in private, taehyun would sit in his room with his headphones on, letting sad or introspective songs play as he processes his emotions. he wouldn’t cry easily, but the pain would show in subtle ways, like in the far-off stares he’d have while thinking about her. but then his pragmatic side would berate him, reminding himself that these feelings were unproductive and unfair, but the ache would linger, quietly gnawing at him. nevertheless, his respect for his bestfriend's relationship would outweigh any hurt he's feeling, letting his feelings fade overtime for everyone’s sake :(((

hueningkai .ᐟ

my sweet sweet hyuka </3 as someone who values the happiness of those he loves, he’d be overwhelmed with guilt the moment he realizes he has feelings for another member’s girlfriend. it would leave him confused and conflicted—he’d wonder how his heart could betray his loyalty to his bestfriend in such a way. kai would likely smile and joke around her like usual, but there would be a noticeable hesitation in his voice, and he might fumble with his words or avoid looking directly at her, as if afraid his feelings would be exposed. his kindhearted nature and empathy would push him towards a resolution: he’d choose to quietly let go of his feelings, no matter how much it hurt, finding solace in the fact that love also means wanting what’s best for others—even if it means stepping aside :(((

taglist! @pagelets, @jettithink, @killa-1009, @j-ji-jia, @frankghgr, @dawngyu, @unusuallyunlikelyfox @sxmmerberries, @napipope-ta, @bamgeutori <3 (click here if you would like to be added ^^)

[gh0stly-mp3]

the path to you

yukimiya x gn!reader

synopsis: you and yukimiya pass by each other every day, put suddlently you stop appearing and he gets worried

tags: fluff, yukimiya is a gentlemen, strangers to friends/lovers, can be seen as platonic

warnings: mention of illness, might have some grammatical errors

a/n: hey! just asking, would you read a mma fighter!male reader fic? been thinking about it too much. byee 🏃‍♂️ - requests are open

Yukimiya is the type of person who likes to observe the things around him, as if every detail has something special to it. After all, one day he might not be able to see anymore.

He's not sure why, but ever since he started seeing you every day, at the same time, walking the same path, something inside him became… curious. It’s not like he was looking for anyone, but you… well, you always seemed interesting.

Every day, you would pass each other by. You two never spoke, but little by little, a kind silence started to build a connection between you. Yukimiya began to look forward to that moment, the moment when his eyes would meet with yours, even if it was just for a second. You always looked down or away, but when your eyes met his, he loved it. A shy smile, maybe, something that suggested you were starting to notice him too.

Yukimiya is not the type of person to shy away from approaching someone, quite the opposite. He has always been charismatic and confident, with his confidence up high. He’d stand there, sometimes just smiling, waiting to see if your shy smile would appear again. And it always did, even if quickly, like a reflex.

Then, one morning, the unexpected happened. You weren’t there.

At first, he thought maybe you were just running late. It happened from time to time. But when the next day came, and then the next, and the next… Yukimiya couldn’t help but feel a knot in his stomach. It wasn’t like you were great friends or anything, but… your absence bothered him. The poor boy found himself looking at the spot where you’d usually be, waiting for you to show up, but nothing.

The days turned into weeks, and he tried not to think too much about it, but the anxiety only grew. It wasn’t normal, I know, but… He was really worried.

And then, after two weeks, there you were again, with that familiar gaze and the lightness in your steps. His heart jumped.

The moment your eyes met, Yukimiya couldn’t hold back anymore. He couldn’t just smile from a distance like he used to. The need to know if you were okay, to understand what had happened, overtook him.

"Hey… I know you don't know me, but we pass by each other every day. And you suddently desappeared, are you okay?" - He asked, more urgently than expected, not really knowing what he was doing. - "My name is Yukimiya, by the way".

You seemed a bit surprised, like you hadn’t expected him to approach you directly. But then, your eyes softened, and with a small laugh, you said: "Yeah, I’m fine. I… was really sick these past few weeks. But I’m better now. Thank you for asking!"

Yukimiya felt an immediate sense of relief, but something else surfaced too. A desire to… be closer. To know more for you, if I could.

"I’m glad you’re feeling better! Sorry for approaching you like this" - He smiled, feeling the conversation open up in a way neither of you expect. - "If you want, I… could invite you for coffee later, just to talk. I don't know if it sounds weird, but I wanted to know you better."

What he didn’t expect was your look, almost surprised, but also with a hint of interest. What had once been just exchanged smiles on the street now seemed to have transformed into something more meaningful.

"I’d love that!" - You replied, and that simple answer made his heart race. - "I was also kinda interested in getting to know you. Let me give you my number!"

And so, with a shared smile, you both went your separate ways. But something inside Yukimiya told him that the routine of fleeting encounters were going to evolve into something more.

[sirhamburrger]

KINTSUGI (m. bachira x reader)

━☆ (soulmate au, for day four of @phantasmaebg) ━☆ in which you find him when you least expect to. ━☆ wc: 2805 (am i insane for this) || tags/cw: f!reader, reader is lowkey not listening but very much judging, bachira is a stoner confirmed, mentions of substance use (alcohol, drugs), nothing too specific, photog major reader and art major bachira || event m.list ━☆ day five ends in ten minutes... yeah i'm skipping that

there are only two undeniable truths in this world, as far as you know.

number one: everybody has recurring visions of the moment they’ll be the happiest with your soulmate. 

it’s always been like this, ever since the beginning of time. cleopatra and marc antony. frida kahlo and diego rivera. johnny cash and june carter. they knew, because it was foretold, written in the stars. the revelations come in daydreams, fantasies, trances, dreams. it’s different for every person, supposedly.

number two: you’ll never find your soulmate.

you’ve long since given up waiting for them. you think you might be a cupioromantic - aka you want a romantic relationship, but have never truly experienced romantic love. not uncommon, but you feel… unlucky, almost. 

for the past seventeen years, or for as long as you can remember, you’ve never experienced one of these visions. passing thoughts about guys in your classes, and eyebrows raised when you see a particularly attractive actor on-screen, but none of the euphoria that people say is supposed to accompany it. 

middle school and high school was when you felt the most left out of all of it. friends and classmates finding their soulmates left and right, squealing in delight when they happened to catch sight of someone who looked like the people in their dreams. 

these truths have held true for you, for seventeen whole years. so understandably, everything comes crashing down when you have your first dream about him. you dream it the night after, too, and on the nights that follow.

it’s always the same. the two of you are on some sort of grassy knoll; his hair is mussed, deep brown and bright yellow mixing, as he stares up at you from where his head lies in your lap. late afternoon sunlight spilling across his features, he looks like a veritable work of art, an angel. he opens his mouth, but no sound comes out -

you wake up.

sitting bolt upright in your bed, you deflate in disappointment. 

you don’t stop thinking about him on the walk from your dorm to your first class of the day. they’re the same questions from a week ago - is he your age? older? where is he from? if you know what he looks like in your dreams, why does your mind go blank when you wake up?

and most importantly: does he dream about you every night, just as you dream about him?

you don’t know if you can say for sure if you love someone just by dreaming about them, but you will anyway. because you already know you love him, wherever and whenever he might exist.

you might never find him, because you don’t even remember what he looked like in your head. and for this, you feel broken.

---

meguru feels her again tonight, when he's blackout drunk at a gatsby-esque party hosted by rin itoshi so he can get the attention of a girl in his psychology class. the couch he lays on is pristine, but probably won’t be for much longer.

he does not dream; if he does, he forgets it. visions of his soulmate, his other half - they come only when he’s out of it, only when he’s drunk, or high, or depressed.

and it is always the same.

it’s the feeling of soft warmth on his face, like gentle sunlight. a soft, calming chuckle. light touches on his hair, brushing his locks out of his face. it’s the feeling of being adored and cherished. 

it’s the feeling of being loved. 

he’s fairly sure he hasn’t known it before.

meguru dimly registers isagi calling out to him. yelling something about yet another round of beer pong. with that, he stumbles towards his friends and the promise of more alcohol, because he’s too drunk and full of an inexplicable euphoria to deal with this right now. 

---

your first class of the day is portraiture 302 with professor anri teieri. 

you flash a tiny smile at your classmate shidou, too tired for anything else. setting your things down at an empty seat, you pull your laptop out as people start to trickle in. 

it’s still starting up when someone sits down in the seat next to you.

“hey,” he says cheerfully. a bit too cheerful for your taste, seeing as it’s eight-thirty in the morning. “all the other seats are taken, so.”

“sure,” you mumble, jamming your thumb into the space bar repeatedly as if it’ll speed things up. you feel his eyes on you, silently judging, maybe, and look up - 

oh.

he’s one of rensuke kunigami’s friends. even within the friend group he might be considered an oddity; not all that forward like isagi, or as flirty as chigiri, or as gentlemanly as kunigami. he’s just… there.

he’s a real character, too, or so you’ve heard. famously wild at rin itoshi’s parties, though the version of him you see at present seems much more subdued. he plays soccer for the university, and he’s an art major.

and honestly? he makes you a little uncomfortable. not bad-looking, but there’s a scary depth in his eyes that makes you think he’s seen more than he should, knows more than anyone else does. 

in short: you think meguru bachira is a weirdo.

which begs the question: why is he even here taking this module, since he’s not one of your photography coursemates?

“- peers from the art department will be joining us for the next two months as we study composition and portraiture in greater depth -”

okay, well, that doesn’t mean you have to talk to him -

“- pair up with someone from a different major for your graded project -”

still, doesn’t have to be him -

“- these are your assigned pairings. try not to get on each other’s bad side.”

and you don’t even have to look at the projector screen to know the cruel fate the universe has bestowed upon you; all you do is notice bachira’s pleased reaction.

he starts, “i’m looking forward to working with you -”

“okay,” you say bluntly, turning your attention back to your laptop. you feel a little bad for the way his smile fades slightly when you cut him off, but you’re not about to apologise. 

at the end of the lecture, he hands you a slip of paper with his number on it, tells you you can text him if you want to work on the project. his voice sounds small, and you feel a strange pang in your chest as you watch him go.

---

lately your dreams have been shifting, changing. 

no longer are they impressionist paintings of quiet moments spent together in mother nature - they are pop art, abstract-expressionist, surrealist. which, quite ironically, are terms that bachira would use.

lingering touches in dimly-lit party venues. stolen kisses in secluded corridors. the high of alcohol and weed and who knows what else - they coagulate into a single stream of thoughts that have you seeing bright colours behind your eyes. though, they always return to the very first dream you had of him.

you wonder, is bachira’s party animal stoner personality rubbing off on your subconscious mind? 

in any case, you're currently keeping your interactions with him to a minimum. you talk for no more than one hour a week, then go your separate ways once more.

the project itself is deceptively simple: create a likeness of your partner in any form you want. and you plan to do well on it. right lighting, right composition, right everything - and bob’s your uncle.

but bachira can’t seem to get a grip. you’ve come to realise he’s flaky, fickle-minded. it’s like his thoughts are bouncing off the inside of his skull like a pinball machine. 

all his drawings and paintings bear a resemblance to you; charcoal captures your hair, acrylic your features. but when he’s finished he always insists they don’t look right, like something’s missing. and strangely enough, you find yourself agreeing with him.

you feel like with those scarily knowing eyes, bachira truly sees through you and into you. like takeichi does to yozo oba in osamu dazai’s no longer human. except bachira isn’t nearly as unattractive.

because with each dream you have of your soulmate, details of meguru bachira start to creep in. hands, slender but still larger than yours. the shape of his lips, perfect and pink. 

the euphoria just makes it all so much worse.

so now you wonder if your fate with your soulmate is to be kissed up against a wall, drunk, until you are breathless.

---

meguru doesn’t understand why she’s doing her damndest to avoid him. it’s not like he’s done anything particularly wrong, at least not to her face. sure, he’s been a little much at times. but he’s been nothing but nice to her. 

so why the cold shoulder, then? why the stiff smiles and the distant glances?

he doesn’t understand, but then again, he’s not sure he understands anything anymore. ever since his dreams have changed for the first time in ten years, he’s been walking around in a haze, trying to balance the his waking life with the dreamlike euphoria that drips from the edges of his consciousness. 

every vision he sees starts to feel more and more like her. and when he looks at her - really looks at her - he starts to feel as if maybe, just maybe, he knows her better than anyone else. 

but that thought scares him too much to admit, so instead, he swallows it down and pushes it to the back of his mind. better to focus on what’s in front of him. better to focus on the work that still doesn’t feel quite right.

one night, after a particularly frustrating session in the studio, he finds himself alone with her, just the two of the under the dim lights. his fingers grip his paintbrush, so hard he thinks it might snap.

“you’re avoiding me,” he says finally, point-blank. “why?”

she shrugs, but he notices her stiffen in her seat. “it’s not like that.”

“not like what?” he presses. “you’re trying to keep your distance, and i get it. i’m not... i’m not normal. i know that.”

she blinks hard. swallows.

he watches her, waiting for a response, and the tension between them grows thicker, more charged with every passing second. finally, she manages to speak, though her voice trembles slightly. 

“i don’t know what you want from me.”

“i don’t want anything from you,” meguru murmurs. “i just… i don’t want to keep pretending i don’t feel something strange. i’ve been seeing things lately, and i -”

“don’t drag me into your delusions, bachira,” she snaps. 

he sees her cold exterior fracture for a second, and he knows. he knows that she knows. his breath hitches in his throat, his eyes never leaving hers. 

“maybe you should stop pretending you don’t know exactly what’s happening.”

it’s terrifying.

meguru doesn’t understand why she’s avoiding him, but maybe that’s okay. because in this moment, with the air thick with unspoken truths and something more between the two of them, she doesn't need to understand. not yet.

---

on sunday afternoon, bachira brings you to a local park two cities away. it’s where he used to go whenever he was bored, he tells you. he had very few friends growing up.

it’s beautiful, you admit. the perfect place for the photoshoot.

you make him lean on the only tree on the hill for half an hour, before deciding the photo doesn’t feel quite right. with a pang of shame, you realise that’s what bachira means when he says the art doesn’t feel right, like there’s something missing.

because no photo will ever be able to capture bachira’s beauty. 

facing towards the setting sun with the little houses in the background? the photo’s too empty. staring right into the camera lens? a little creepy. finally, after a long time of unsuccessful attempts, you slump against the tree, resting in the shade.

“sorry,” you mumble. “just doesn’t feel right.”

“yeah, i get that.” he sits down on the soft grass next to you, and you smell the tea tree shampoo in his hair. “just happens sometimes.”

the silence is nice and comfortable for once, but then you go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like -

“i’m sorry i’ve been avoiding you.”

meguru’s eyes flick to you, the sincerity in your voice making something inside him tighten. he tilts his head slightly, studying you in a way that makes you feel like he’s reading between the lines of everything you’ve said and haven’t.

“it’s okay,” he says softly, like he’s trying to reassure himself as much as you. “i guess… i don’t blame you. i can be a lot sometimes.”

you shake your head quickly, catching his gaze. “no, that’s not it. it’s just…” you trail off, unsure how to voice the weight of everything that’s been pressing on your chest. the dreams. the confusion. the feeling that something inside you has shifted, and you don’t know how to adjust.

“i’ve just been… scared,” you admit, wanting to cringe at how vulnerable you sound. “i don’t even know what’s going on with me. it’s like everything i thought i knew is just… fading.”

meguru watches you quietly, his gaze unwavering. there’s a softness there that you haven’t seen before. the usual carefree grin is gone, replaced by something deeper - something that makes you feel like he’s truly hearing every word you don’t say.

“i get it,” he murmurs. “sometimes the things you don’t want to face, they catch up to you.” 

you glance up at him, surprised. “you do?”

“yeah.” he reaches a hand out, his fingers brushing against yours in the gentlest way possible, and to your own surprise, you don’t jerk your hand away. “sometimes you don’t even know what you’re running from until you stop.”

you swallow the lump in your throat. “okay.”

without thinking, you push yourself up from the tree and take a few steps back, your heart suddenly beating faster than before. it’s not just the project anymore - it’s something more.

meguru stands up, his movements fluid, as though he’s been waiting for this moment too. “what are you doing?” he asks, but there’s an edge to his voice now, an unspoken question that mirrors your own confusion.

“come here,” you say before you can stop yourself, your words shaky but firm.

he doesn’t hesitate. in two strides, he’s in front of you, his eyes searching yours for some kind of answer.

and then finally, you do what feels as natural as breathing.

you let your hands rest on his shoulders and guide him to sit back down on the grass. without a word, you slip into the same position as the dream you’ve had over and over again - the same moment that’s haunted you for countless nights -

his head in your lap, sunlight spilling over his face, the world hushed and peaceful around you.

he doesn’t speak. he just watches you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. his lips part slightly, but no sound comes out, and for the briefest moment, it feels like you’re back in the dream, like you’re both somewhere else entirely.

it’s only when you feel the softest weight of his hand on yours that you snap back to reality. he’s holding onto you now, fingers threading through yours, and his gaze is softer than it’s ever been.

“this… feels right,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

“yeah. it does.”

the sunlight is fading fast now, the sky painted with dusky shades of pink and orange. his hair is mussed, deep brown and bright yellow mixing, as he stares up at you from where his head lies in your lap.

you fumble for your phone, snap a quick photo of the scene with your shaky hands and almost sob -

because you know for certain, now, that this is the dream you had, and it’s about your soulmate, meguru bachira.

because here, in this stillness, you realize that maybe - just maybe - you weren’t running from him after all. 

because maybe you’ve always been running toward this moment, even before you knew it existed.

meguru lifts his head from your lap, his eyes searching yours, and for the first time in a long while, you don’t feel lost. not here. not with him. his lips move, forming a question you can’t quite hear. but you don’t need to. not anymore.

you lean down slightly and kiss him, and everything you’ve been trying to understand falls into place. amidst the salt of your tears he tastes sweet, like the dreams, the euphoria, the love you thought you’d never have.

his golden eyes are powdered gold dusted onto the lacquer that fills the cracks in your fragile heart. kintsugi.

and for once, you feel complete.

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