#done on breaks >:D work can’t stop me!!!

[spacetimegoddess]

MIRABELLE CHEVALIER!!!!! (2025) [Colorized]

[khioneee]

trying to break up with your fuck buddy, rafe

rafe paces. back and forth. hand running through his hair, jaw tight, eyes sharp with something between frustration and disbelief.

‘you want to stop?’ his voice is even, but there’s an edge to it.

you nod, arms crossed over your chest. ‘yeah.’

‘why?’ his head tilts, eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for an answer that actually makes sense to him.

‘i don’t like what this is turning me into,’ you say, voice steady. ‘it’s not who i am. and i don’t want it to be.’

he exhales sharply, turning on his heel and pacing again. ‘where is this coming from?’

‘i’m not blaming you for anything, rafe.’ you sigh, feeling the weight of this conversation sink into your bones. ‘i just realized i don’t want to be another girl in your rotation.’

he stops mid-step, turning to face you. ‘rotation?’

you hold his gaze. ‘you know what i mean.’

his jaw tenses. ‘you knew what this was,’ he says, voice low, careful.

‘i did,’ you agree. ‘and now i know i don’t want it.’

he drags a hand down his face, shaking his head. ‘i thought everything was fine.’

‘it was,’ you admit. ‘but i’m a ‘girlfriend’ kind of girl, rafe. i have boyfriends, not fuck buddies.’

rafe lets out a dry laugh, almost disbelieving. he starts pacing again, steps restless, like he needs to move or he’ll explode.

then, from outside, a familiar voice cuts through the tension.

‘rafe! come on, man, we’re waiting!’ topper, followed by laughter and girls’ voices, high and sweet.

your stomach turns, but you don’t react. instead, you nod toward the door.

‘you should go,’ you say softly.

a pause, a sharp inhale. his jaw clenches. ‘we’re not done.’

‘i said what i needed to say.’ you swallow the lump in your throat. ‘you have girls waiting for you.’

he stops pacing. his expression hardens. ‘you think that’s what this is about?’

‘i think it doesn’t matter,’ you answer. ‘because you’re not my boyfriend, and you don’t owe me anything.’

his hands curl into fists at his sides. ‘you’re doing that thing again.’

‘what thing?’

‘acting like you don’t care.’

you inhale sharply. ‘i do care, rafe. that’s the problem.’

something flickers in his expression. for the first time, he looks uncertain. like this wasn’t supposed to happen. like he never considered the possibility of you walking away.

he starts pacing again, steps quicker now, frustration rolling off him in waves. ‘so what? you’re just done?’

you nod. ‘yeah.’

he stops. looks at you. then, after a beat, he says, ‘fine.’

you hesitate. ‘fine, what?’

‘i’ll be your boyfriend.’

you blink, caught off guard. ‘what?’

‘you want a relationship?’ he shrugs, like it’s the easiest fix in the world. ‘done.’

‘that’s not how this works.’

‘why not?’ his voice is sharper now, defensive. ‘you said you don’t want to be just another girl— fine. be my girlfriend.’

you shake your head, a humorless laugh escaping. ‘jesus, rafe.’

‘what?’

‘you don’t even want to be my boyfriend. you just don’t want to see me with someone else.’

his jaw tightens, and for the first time, he stops pacing. stands still.

‘you can’t just decide to be in a relationship because you don’t like the idea of losing me,’ you say, voice softer now. ‘that’s not love, rafe. that’s possession.’

his lips part slightly, but no words come out.

‘you don’t know how to do this,’ you continue gently. ‘how to be with someone in a way that isn’t just about control.’

he exhales, slow and deep, fingers rubbing at his jaw as he looks away for a moment. when he meets your gaze again, there’s something different there. hesitation, sure. but also something you weren’t expecting.

fear.

‘i don’t want to lose you,’ he admits, voice quiet now.

your breath catches. ‘then be better.’

rafe swallows. ‘tell me how.’

‘you already know how,’ you whisper. ‘you just have to choose it.’

the silence stretches between you again, but this time, it’s different.

it’s not heavy. it’s hopeful.

then, from outside, topper calls out again. ‘rafe! you coming or what?’

rafe doesn’t even look toward the door.

‘nah,’ he calls back, eyes still locked on yours. ‘i’m good.’

your heart was about to try to break out from behind your ribs.

his gaze softens. ‘stay?’

you hesitate. ‘rafe—’

he shakes his head, stepping closer. ‘if i say i can do this, then i can do this.’

you search his face for the lie, the excuse, the escape route he’s bound to take. but there isn’t one.

he raised your hands to his mouth and kissed the tip of each of your fingers in turn. your thumb, your index finger, your middle finger, your ring finger, finally your pinky, and then, your gaze caught the black cross that rested on the centre of his chest.

you wonder if his heart beats steadily.

his lips twitch, just slightly, into the kind of smirk that used to make you roll your eyes. ‘i’ll be the last boyfriend you’ll have,’ he murmurs. ‘you’ll see.’

your chest tightens, but this time, it’s not with dread.

‘okay,’ you whisper.

he grins, triumphant. ‘yeah?’

you exhale, a small smile creeping onto your lips despite yourself.

‘yeah.’

an. inspired by rory and logan.

[ragingbookdragon]

It comes as somewhat a surprise when the others realize that something has obviously happened between their resident Lieutenant and Private, as she’s quick to fall silent whenever he appears, and even more so make herself scare when she can when he’s around. It’s only the third time that Soap sees it that he says something, because if he doesn’t no one else will, and where’s the fun in that?

He watches her duck her head and leave the break room, Gaz, Soap, Price, and Ghost sitting alone at the breakfast table conversing over soggy cereal and cooling tea; Soap pushes a piece of bacon on his plate and asks, “Trouble in paradise, Lt?” the corner of his mouth arches with a slight grin when he hears the warning grunt come from Ghost.

“No.”

“Seems like it,” he retorts, taking a sip of his coffee. “What’d ya do? Tell her ta fuck off?”

“Drop it, MacTavish,” Ghost warns darkly. “Nothing’s wrong.”

This time, Gaz jumps in. “C’mon, Lt., it’s obvious that something’s wrong. I mean, she won’t even look at you, let alone say anything unless you speak first.”

“An’ she’s callin’ ‘im ‘sir.’” Soap adds, pointing at him. “Christ, Lt., ya musta done a number on ‘er. Poor Puffin. So sweet and kind. Broke ‘er heart ya did.”

Price can tell that Ghost is close to snapping at the both of them but gets to it before he does. “Soap, Gaz, go catalogue our inventory for the mission next week.”

“Aw, but we already d—” Soap falls silent when Price shoots him a look and quietly grumbles to himself as he grabs his plate and cup, Gaz following in suit.

It’s only until the two soldiers are alone that Price asks, “What did happen, Simon?”

Ghost lets out a long sigh and rolls his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Pretty much told ‘er to fuck off.”

Price watches quietly as Ghost begins rattling to himself—he’s never really had to ask the man to explain himself. All he’s gotta do is prompt him to do so and Ghost does the rest.

“I just got mad. She’s always ‘round and practically up my arse, and I got caught up and instead of ‘andlin’ it properly, I shoved my fucking foot in my mouth and scalped her.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I meant to be gentler but once I started, I couldn’t stop. It just kept comin’ out. And now she fuckin’ hates me.”

He pulls his hand down and looks up at Price with a scowl—the man is smiling at him, but it’s that stupid smile that means more than Ghost wants to admit it does.

“Quit that.”

“You care about her,” Price murmurs, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, though his admonish is still harsh. “And instead of telling her how you felt like a grown adult, you took the ten-year-old way out and decided to be a cunt to her.”

“I didn’t mean to be such a cunt.”

“But the fact of the matter is that you did, and you’ve screwed up team fluidity and cohesion.” He looks at him. “You know a team divided—”

“Can’t stand,” Ghost finishes with an even worse scowl. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He looks away. “I just don’t know how to even start tryin’ to fix it.”

“Well, apologizing might be a good start,” Price rumbles with a grin. “She’s a good kid, Simon. Her heart’s in the right place, even if it’s a bit much at times. Shows she cares. More than most do in our line of work. She’s a rare one.”

“I know,” he admits in a much, much softer tone. “I just don’t want her to lose that doin’ this.” His eyes meet Price’s, and they hold such a misery. “Look at us, Price,” he mutters, gesturing between them. “Middle age, unmarried, no kids, too fucked up for anything like that. She doesn’t…” he clenches his jaw. “She deserves a better path, a safer path, than this life. She deserves to go out and have a life where she comes home to a family.”

“That’s not your choice to make, son,” he replies gently, but there’s a firmness to it. “If this is what she wants to do, then she will. We can’t make her get out of service.”

Ghost growls low in his throat. “She has so much more potential than being cannon fodder. She could do somethin’ with her life. Somethin’ good. Somethin’ that won’t have her dying face down in the sand with a bullet wound in the back.”

Price simply watches him.

“But she’s so fuckin’ stupid. She wants to be here. She wants to spend whatever time she has dodgin’ bullets and wakin’ up every night in sweat ‘cause she can’t escape the dreams. No one wants to do this. We don’t want to do this. We do this because we have to. But her? She’s happy here.” He lowers his voice, it’s as if he’s in disbelief. “She’s happy here.” He looks at Price. “Why? Why is she so happy here?”

It's another long moment before Price speaks.

“You hear, son, but you don’t listen.” He moves the cup on the saucer. “She bounced around homes growing up, scraped by on the skin of her teeth. She has no one. But here, she has something. She has people who care for her, if nothing else, they won’t let her die alone.”

“Oh what? So, it’s found family bullshit?” Ghost spits. “If she dies, at least the team would mourn her?”

“Isn’t that what you’ve done too?” he replies, and Ghost falls silent. “People like Gaz, Soap, and myself are different than you and she are, Simon. We have homes. We’ve had families that have loved us, that do love us. But you two? Simon, you’ve made a home where you’ve had to. Made a family out of people you’ve bled for, would gladly bleed for. You’ve made something that’s yours. You made a family for yourself. And so did she. She’s made us her family. The one she never had the privilege to call her own.”

Price lets out a quiet hum, and pats his thighs, standing up and pushing his chair in.

“Think on what I’ve said, son. And if nothing else, apologize and leave it at that. Put the ball in her court and let her make the next move.”

As he walks off, he hears, “And if she doesn’t want it?”

He tosses a knowing look over his shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll take it.” His eyes twinkle as he adds, “Takes an awful strong woman to care about a man like you.”

[fairestwriting]

HI omg I love ur writing sm!! Also sorry im new to tumblr so im sorry if this is incorrect u can ignore it :)

I wanted to know if I could request Jamil, Azul and Leona with an S/O that barely sleeps because they stay up working.

Thank u sm!! :D

in celebration of me surviving my exams…… felt thematically appropriate to do this one (that i apparently had in my drafts for a while????

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

It’s one of those things he doesn’t really get. He knows you’re a hardworking person since well before you two start dating, and despite his own disillusionment on the matter… Yeah, he does admire it. You have more drive by yourself than most Savanaclaw students combined, he can’t say it’s not impressive in a way. But, the way you just give up rest time is…

”Did you really pull an all nighter for that?” He asks the first time he notices it, following a day where you’d been talking all the time about this one assignment. It comes out sounding very much like a joke, and a mean one at that… That’s not really what his intention was, his expression falters when you frown at it. Not sure how to follow it up.

He understands that your work is important to you, and he respects you too much to get aggressive over it, obviously, but… really, he can’t find this anything other than ridiculous. Is it even worth that much effort? What are you gaining from this? He doesn’t openly ask you the questions, Leona knows how biased he is when it comes to the topic. And, again, how important it is to you.

Settles for pestering you to nap with him, while he can’t wrap his head around how to approach the topic in a serious way. ”Come on. You turned it in, now you better get some sleep before you keel over.” He comes up to you whenever he finds out you’re done with your work, then straight up drags you off to bed. Yours or his, just whichever one is closest. And it *is* hard to resist falling asleep, when you’re already so tired, and everything is so cozy and warm… so his plan does work. And he’s pretty happy it does.

𐙚 Azul Ashengrotto

No judgement, he’s done the same thing before. He kind of relates to it, to be honest. Maybe even a little too much— Maybe, so much that he’s a little bit of an enabler, at first. Though, of course, that’s not his intention at all. It just happens that he has similar habits.

It’s all lighthearted in the beginning. ”You didn’t get much sleep, did you? Not that I’m that much better off.” He jokes on some days, and asks if you want to come to the Lounge to get coffee or tea later. He asks you to let him know when you take your breaks when you’re working late, so you can commiserate over text or help each other or even just have a better spent few minutes.

He feels like he understands, whatever you reason for doing it all is. Even if it’s a lot different from his own, he still feels some level of kinship. Because you’re in it together, right? You don’t have to act like you’re not tired around him, he doesn’t have to act like he’s not tired around you. It’s comforting.

…It is also worrying after a while, though. There’s something about seeing your own bad habits reflected on loved ones that really gets to people, and Azul certainly isn’t immune to that. The texts during your shared breaks start turning much more caring, reminders for you to eat and drink water and at least not skip those breaks — Because he knows he probably won’t be able to convince you to just stop immediately. He knows it wouldn’t work with him, at least, and maybe he’s projecting a little. But it makes sense to him. And if you won’t take him up on his offer to call it a night yet, then he’ll just work with what he has. As long as it makes you feel a little bit better in the morning.

𐙚 Jamil Viper

Your hardworking nature is one of the things Jamil admires about you, maybe even one of the things that initially drew him to you — Especially considering how far you’re willing to take it. He does know that it’s not something to blindly admire, because, of course, there should be a limit to how much of yourself you’re willing to sacrifice for the sake of… excelling? Is that your reason to do it?

When he starts to see just how much sleep you’re skipping on, that dies down a bit. ”Not that I don’t think you’re doing a good job, but do you really have to stay up so late for this?” He questions you when it starts to seem like too much. It’s not that he changes his mind completely, just…

He finds himself conflicted on the topic, a bit similarly to Leona. A part of him wonders if you’re really doing this out of your volition, if there’s something that’s compelling you to be so willing to disregard your own health. Jamil will find himself wondering how to deal with that possible something, whether it’s your own thoughts tormenting you, or some form of outside force. Both options are pretty equally serious to him.

And Jamil isn’t really the most straightforward person out there, but… he really sees no way out of this other than directly asking you about it. You’ve been doing enough, more than enough, so why did you keep up with this awful routine? He’s not willing to argue on how damaging it is, he can see how vacant and honestly weak you look sometimes. And he doesn’t want that to continue, he wants to get to the bottom of the issue so it doesn’t have to continue anymore. Of course, he’s not so naive that he thinks he’ll totally change your mind with just one conversation, and if there’s really some outside force pressuring you, it’s even more complicated, but that’s not really the point— Before anything else, he wants you to know that you’re doing well, that he cares, and that he wants to help however he can.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[muniimyg]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (birthday) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist request closed

note: once upon a time ,, they were happy (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) .... here is a not-so-mini mini extra 🌟 happy birthday to jungkook ,, my op irl 🤨

timestamp: oc is nearly a month pregnant !! aka this happens before their break up. jk and oc are 28/29 yrs old in this extra …. during bbydaddy plot they are 32/33 (same birth year just month differences for bdays)

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

"nice try."

"yah, yah, yah! no—d-don’t push me out! honey, if you’re going to push me out... then you’re coming with me!"

jungkook playfully grabs hold of your wrist and starts to drag you toward the living room entrance. after a few steps, you groan and yank your wrist back. with a dramatic huff and an exaggerated roll of your eyes, you place both hands on his shoulders. jungkook groans but lets you push him out.

"this isn’t good for you, you know? you shouldn’t be doing any physical activity that might strain your body. ___, you’re pregnant—"

"they don’t know!" you hush him, pinching his sides. "jungkook, i’m just preparing your cake. it’s not that much effort, and you’re the one making this difficult—"

jungkook stands still and turns you around, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin in the crook of your neck. together, you both gaze at the half-decorated cake. jungkook nuzzles closer, practically squishing your cheeks together.

"___... you threw me this surprise party all by yourself. you’ve been having morning sickness for the past week, yet you got up early to decorate our entire place with childish decorations just so i could wake up to something special. oh, and i can’t forget the fucking cake you baked—"

"it’s not done!" you panic. "it’s so ugly! you’re such a liar—"

"knowing you and your baking skills, it’s perfect."

"you haven’t even tasted it yet," you snap, crossing your arms. he holds you tighter, and you squirm from the change in pressure. "and what was that about the decorations? you think they’re childish? you’re the one obsessed with spiderman! you wanted spiderman themed—“

"because i am spiderman."

"grow up."

"okay... so that means growing old with you, right?" jungkook beams, planting a tender kiss on your cheek. you giggle as he starts showering you with affectionate kisses. pulling him away, you wipe your cheeks.

"yuck."

"you weren’t saying ‘yuck’ when we made a baby," jungkook teases. then he tilts his head back and raises his pitch dramatically. "uh huh! y-yes, jungkook! f-fuck—me... p—please! oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! cum inside... i want your cum so bad—"

"shut up!"

you cover jungkook’s mouth and glare at him.

"do you want cake or not? stop bothering me and let me finish up."

"i do, i do..." jungkook laughs. he mumbles a quick apology as he brings your hands to his lips, kissing them gently, his eyes begging. "___, can you please take a seat and join them? i’ll ask yoongi and jimin to finish decorating the cake. come on, ___... i don’t want you working so hard—"

"no," you say firmly. "i can do it. jungkook, i’m barely in my first trimester!" you reassure him by placing his hand on your stomach. jungkook pats it and purses his lips. in response, you squish his lips together. with a sweet, coaxing tone, you continue, "it’s your birthday. come on, honey... enjoy this. just have a good time—"

jungkook dips his head and kisses you.

you kiss him back, smiling as you pull away. quickly, you think of a way to get rid of him. he hates the way your eyes light up... he just knows you’ve made a plan.

"i have a present for you," you sing. "… but i’ll only give it to you if you leave."

jungkook pouts.

"honey, i told you... our baby is my gift this year!"

you cup his cheek with one hand. "is that how precious your creampies are?"

jungkook snorts. "yes. you have a problem with that?"

"too late if i do," you laugh, pointing at your belly. "i’m gonna have a problem with you in a few seconds if you don’t get out of our kitchen. please—for the love of god—go. have fun with your friends! i’ll show you your present later."

he whines and stomps his foot. you gasp at his childishness.

"jungkook... seriously," you peel him off you. "you know what? you have one guess. if you get it right, you get to have it now. if not, you have to go out and party."

"is it sex?” he giggles. “got you pregnant already, not really sure what else we could do—no choking. i will never choke you—"

"shut up."

he laughs and holds you tight. for a moment, you two stay like this, wrapped in each other’s arms, happy and savoring the moment.

you both had a hunch, but officially found out you were pregnant just a week ago. you’re almost four weeks along, but the news has already sparked so much change in your relationship.

for instance, jungkook has been constantly protective and proactive when it comes to you. yet, you continue to push through and get things done. from work to household chores, nothing is slowing you down. jungkook can’t help but be amazed and deeply in love with you. honestly, it feels like he hasn’t fully processed that you’re carrying his child.

you’ve done so much for him. more than words could ever express—you’ve shown him so much of what love and life have to offer. so when you say you have a gift for him, he can hardly believe it. why would you do such a thing? why would you give him more than this? he doesn’t deserve it. he doesn’t deserve you.

since the beginning of your relationship, you’ve always been incredibly attentive to jungkook. not to mention, you’re adored by his family. from knowing how to cook his favorite meals (so much so that he always looks grumpy while eating) to being the only person he wants to see at the end of the day—you’ve given him so much comfort and hope in his life. to have a baby with you is an honor. he thinks to himself that he must have done something extraordinary in his past life to deserve a woman like you. you're so inspiring in so many ways... you're self-made. you're incredible.

a person who truly cares for him.

a person who is after his heart.

a person who is his entire heart.

see, he’s always believed there are only two ways love can go: to love someone or to be loved by someone. however, after loving you and being loved by you, he’s come to the conclusion that there is another way.

to be love.

that’s exactly what you are to him.

so, because he loves you, jungkook gives in. he hugs you one more time before heading to the living room. he joins his friends and starts the karaoke party. you stay in the kitchen, finishing off the cake.

a few minutes later, you walk into the living room with the cake, and candles lit.

"happy birthday, jungkook!"

everyone joins in, singing heartily. jungkook wraps his arms around you as he leans forward to blow out the candles.

"what did you wish for?" jimin asks.

jungkook smiles warmly.

"time."

before everyone leaves, jungkook insists they help clean up. yoongi and jin tackle the dishes, while taehyung and hobi straighten up the living room. jimin takes out the trash, and you and jungkook pack up extra food for everyone to take home.

once the place is spotless and everyone has left, jungkook suddenly scoops you up, effortlessly hoisting you over his shoulder and carrying you into the bedroom. he gently places you on your side of the bed, tucking you in with a tender touch. he grabs the book you’ve been reading from the nightstand and switches on the soft glow of the reading lamp.

"rest," he says softly.

you cross your arms, pouting a little. "it’s only 11:50 p.m... you kicked everyone out so early."

"my birthday is over," he replies with a shrug.

"you’ve still got ten more minutes," you counter, your voice teasing.

jungkook ignores your comment and climbs into bed beside you. he wraps an arm over your hips and rests his head on your tummy, his face nuzzling into you as he lets out a contented sigh.

"should we start thinking of baby names?" he yawns, his mind already running through a list. you laugh softly, setting your book aside, and it doesn’t take long before your fingers are threading through his hair, playing with the soft strands.

"what's the rush?" you murmur, your voice calm and reassuring. "we have time."

he can’t shake the feeling that there’s never enough time, that it’s always slipping away too quickly. yes, there’s always another day, another schedule, another moment pulling him away. but there will never be another this—another moment just like this. he feels the weight of every ticking second, even now, as he lies in bed with you.

is it strange that he’s going to miss this? being wrapped around you, resting his head on your tummy, waiting for your unborn child... it still feels like everything could slip away.

"there’s never enough time," he murmurs, his voice muffled against the soft fabric of your shirt. his fingers trace idle patterns on your side, trying to memorize the feel of you beneath his touch. he wants everything, wants this moment last.

if he could ask for forever, he’d ask for it now.

you run your fingers through his hair slowly, your touch light and soothing, as if you’re trying to calm the storm raging inside him.

"... technically, time is infinite—"

"shut up," he groans, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. "don’t be a lawyer right now. i’m being serious."

you laugh softly. "i am being serious... jungkook, we have all the time we need, always."

he wants to believe you, wants to let your words sink into the parts of him that are always rushing, always afraid of running out of time. jungkook tilts his head up slightly, his chin resting on your stomach as he looks up at you.

your eyes meet his, full of warmth and understanding, and something inside him begins to soften. in this moment, he feels it—he just believes you.

"wanna know something?" you whisper, brushing your thumb against his temple, your touch anchoring him. "my time is yours, always."

jungkook shuts his eyes, letting your words wash over him, feeling them confront the ever-present fear of losing time. he feels you shift slightly, your hand moving away for a moment before returning, something cool and heavy pressing into his hand. he opens his eyes to see a watch—a rolex—gleaming softly in the dim light. he looks from the watch to you, his heart tightening with emotion.

"my time is yours... this—it’s so you always know," you say, smiling gently, your eyes filled with love. "there’s always enough time for us. i promise you that, jungkook. i promise you forever."

jungkook is at a loss for words. his heart feels full, and his head is swimming with emotion. he sits up and pulls you into a tight hug, kissing you deeply until you have to playfully push him away. you laugh softly, turning your attention back to the watch.

"i know it’s a rolex and all... but i had it engraved," you say with a grin.

jungkook flips the watch over and sees a date inscribed on the back.

"your birthday?" he chuckles, a smirk playing on his lips.

you can’t help but laugh again. "yes... and it’s also the first time i knew i loved you. remember? we met three months before my birthday. i had a mock trial that day, and you showed up during my fifteen-minute recess with a cupcake. we weren’t even officially together... and you drove in the pouring rain, four cities away, and skipped an exam just to see me. just for fifteen minutes. back then, i remember thinking... you must be insane. but you lit my candle in the pouring rain and kept re-lighting it until i got to blow it out... then, you asked me for my wish."

"oh yeah!" jungkook recalls, a smile spreading across his face. "you never told me what you wished for."

"that birthday... i wished that if i were to love someone... it had to be you... jungkook, you came right on time. so, happy birthday, honey! i loved you first which means i'll love you forever."

that night, jungkook changes all his passwords to your birthdate. not because it’s the day you were born, but because of the precious memory you shared with him. it’s the day his life truly began to change.

maybe you’re right, he thinks. maybe time is infinite. maybe, with you, he has all the time in the world.

in other words; he wants forever with you.

[tortillamastersblog]

The Moment I Knew | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: none :)

Summary: You love Sam with all your heart, and after three years of being with her, you suddenly feel like you can’t wait a second longer to ask her to marry you.

_______________________________________________

“Babyyy,” Sam whines playfully, making me chuckle in my high chair at the kitchen island.

It’s late, almost eleven, but because Sam and I had Tara, Mindy, Anika, and Chad over for dinner, I didn’t get a chance to answer some important emails yet.

It’s Friday, and I won’t be back in the office or on my computer until Monday, so I have to answer all of them now.

“I’ll be right with you,” I say with a gentle smile when Sam emerges from the bedroom, dressed only in one of my oversized shirts. Her hair falls down one side of her neck in messy waves, and she pouts as she makes her way over to me, going behind me and snaking her arms around my middle and resting her chin on my shoulder to watch what I’m doing while her hands slip under my hoodie, her fingers skimming over my skin in a gentle touch.

It’s not sexual, I realize fairly quickly when she doesn’t start planting kisses on my neck like she normally would. It seems like she just wants to be close to me so I tilt my head to the side to touch my temple against her cheek before continuing typing.

“What are you even doing?” she asks curiously flattening her warm hands on my stomach.

I sigh tiredly and press the heels of my hands against my eyes before returning to typing. "I just reviewed a bunch of cost reviews and am now writing an email to our cost engineers about what changes they can approve to R&D," I explain, which makes her hum.

She nestles her face against the side of my neck and takes a deep breath, almost as if breathing me in, before tightening her hold on me and watching as I finish up work.

I quickly finish my email and make sure I don’t have anything else to review or reply to before finally shutting my laptop with a sigh.

Realizing I’m done, Sam perks up and lifts her chin from my shoulder.

“Bed?” she whispers, raking her nails over my stomach, making me shudder.

I hum in agreement and tap her hands over my hoodie before slipping off the chair and turning around in her arms so her hands rest on my lower back. I smile at the way her sleepy eyes fixate on me, watching my every move as I step closer, cup her cheeks, and dip my head to peck her lips softly.

She makes a quiet sound of approval and pulls me even closer when I try to break the kiss, moving her lips against mine in a slow, sensual way.

Even after more than three years together, kissing her still makes me weak in the knees. And when she pulls back a moment later, I’m the one chasing her lips, making her chuckle quietly.

I grumble playfully and peck her lips a couple more times, which makes her smile before we eventually break apart completely.

“Bed?” I repeat her own words back to her, making her nod and disconnect from me. She grabs my hand and pulls me toward the bedroom.

She stops right in front of the door, though, and turns back around with a frown. “Wait, the dishes.”

I huff in amusement and kiss the top of her head, smoothing my hands down her arms. “I did them while you were getting ready for bed.”

Her expression shifts, guilt flickering across her face, and she fists the front of my hoodie in her hands and tugs me closer. “I told you I’d do them,” she says quietly.

Every time I do something around the apartment, she hates it. Not because she doesn’t appreciate it, but because I work a lot, and she doesn’t want me taking on chores on top of everything else. But I honestly don’t mind. She works a lot too, at the café, and she’s about to graduate with her degree in photography. If I’m home and I get the chance, I want to do everything I can to make her life easier.

“It’s fine,” I reassure her, but she’s not having it. Her frown deepens, and her eyes glisten like she’s close to tears. It’s the same expression she always gets when we have this conversation. But it is fine. I don’t mind cooking, doing the dishes, or throwing in a load of laundry every now and then.

I love her, and I’d do anything to make things easier for her, whether it’s working twelve-hour days so we can afford a vacation together or simply doing the dishes after a long day like today, when all we want to do is go to bed.

I exhale softly and press a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I don’t mind,” I murmur. “I like taking care of you.”

Her hands tighten in the fabric of my hoodie, her breathing uneven for a moment. Then, she exhales, her forehead dropping against my chest.

“I just don’t want you to do everything,” she mumbles.

I let out a quiet chuckle, stroking a hand down her back. “I don’t. Just… the things that make your life easier.”

She lifts her head, looking up at me with a tender expression, until, finally, nodding and tugging me into the dark bedroom again.

I quickly get ready for bed in the en-suite before joining Sam. She’s already snuggled up in bed, her face buried in my pillow, eyes closed.

The city outside is still alive, as always, lights twinkling in the dark even as rain starts to fall, a few drops sliding down the floor-to-ceiling windows. Being this high up, we have the perfect view of it all.

Hearing me come back, Sam lifts her head and smiles tiredly, opening the covers for me to slip under with her. As soon as I settle on my back, she shuffles on top of me with little grunts of effort, like even the smallest movements are exhausting. When she finally exhales and slips her arms underneath my shoulders, she lets out a satisfied sigh.

The weight of her on my chest and the warmth she radiates after showering earlier makes me realize just how tired I am. Because we watch something every night before bed, I ask if she wants to put something on, but she surprisingly denies.

“Just wanna cuddle,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to my throat that makes me melt.

“Okay.” I agree quietly, wrapping my arms around her and running my hands up and down her back over the fabric of my shirt.

“I love you,” she mumbles a couple of moments later, already half asleep, and even though she says it constantly, right now, for some reason, it makes my chest tighten with realization.

I want to marry her.

I’ve known it since we got together because I’ve been in love with her since we were kids, but right now, it really hits me—I want to marry her.

I want to marry her right now, in this moment, alone in our bedroom, cuddled up under the sheets like any other night.

She’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

The thought makes my heart skip a beat, and I only manage to croak out a quiet, “I love you, too,” before blinking back tears at my realization. Any other time, Sam would have noticed how off I am, but she’s right on the brink of falling asleep, so she doesn’t comment on it.

She just exhales deeply, sinks into me even more, and then she’s gone.

I hold her tighter, pressing a kiss to her temple and closing my eyes, breathing in the lingering scent of the soap she always uses.

I want to marry her.

The thought circles through my mind as I stare at the ceiling, making me feel warm and tingly until I realize I still need to buy a ring and ask her.

Shit. I need a ring.

I won’t be able to sneak off this weekend because we both took it off, but on Monday, I’ll get out of work early and find one.

Before I do that, I’ll have to ask Tara for permission and maybe even see if she wants to come along. I’m sure she’ll say yes. She loves Sam and keeps telling us to just get married already, so I know it’ll go well.

A small smile tugs at my lips at the thought of her reaction, and a few minutes later, exhaustion finally catches up to me. I drift off with Sam’s grounding weight on top of me and her steady breath warm against my neck.

I grumble when I wake up to a sudden weight on my stomach and squint against the sun streaming in through the windows.

“Mhmm… Sammy,” I mumble, turning my head in an attempt to bury my face in the pillow.

“Wake up, baby,” Sam prompts quietly, leaning down to nudge my cheek with her nose.

I huff and slide my hands up her thighs, still keeping my eyes closed. “’S too early.”

“No, it’s not. It’s almost ten,” she retorts, amusement laced in her voice as she starts pressing kisses to my cheek, along my jaw, then onto my lips.

I grimace, not ready to get up yet, but I kiss her back anyway, even though it’s lazy.

It’s a simple movement of lips against each other and doesn’t last very long. Sam pulls back sooner than expected, which makes me open my eyes to find her dark gaze already on me, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“Good morning,” she whispers, her hair falling around her face and shielding us from the outside world.

The memory of my epiphany last night makes me smile too. I squeeze her thighs gently and tilt my chin up to peck her lips again, my tiredness already fading.

“Morning. What do you want to do today?”

Sam frowns in thought and brings her hands up to graze her fingers against the side of my neck. “Do you wanna go out for breakfast? I’m in the mood for some loaded bagels. And then maybe we can go for a run this afternoon and make lasagna for dinner?”

“Hmm. Sounds like a plan,” I say, smiling up at her for a moment longer, watching as her eyes light up before flipping us around and capturing her lips in a passionate kiss, swallowing her surprised squeak at our sudden change in position.

She doesn’t protest, though, and keeps kissing me before giggling when I slide my hands under her shirt. I forget sometimes that she’s ticklish, but the sound of her laugh just makes me smile too. I pull back and watch her cock her head to the side, reaching up to brush a strand of hair off my forehead.

“I thought we were going to get breakfast,” she says, squirming slightly when I slide my hands higher underneath her—well, my—shirt, running my fingers over her ribs while her legs wrap around my hips and pull me closer despite what she just said.

“Mhmm, but not just yet,” I tease, which makes her chuckle before pulling me down for another heated kiss.

One kiss turns into another, then another, until the teasing shifts into something deeper and slower. Her fingers thread through my hair as I press my body into hers, hands exploring and breaths mingling. The lazy morning stretches on as we lose ourselves in each other, wrapped up in warmth and soft touches until we finally get up to take a shower together before heading out for breakfast.

I drum my fingers against my steering wheel, nervously glancing around as if I’m doing something wrong when, in reality, I’m just waiting in my car for Tara to get out of class.

It’s Monday now, and I need Tara’s help picking out a ring, so I got off work earlier, like I planned, to catch her right as class ends.

I wait a couple more minutes until Tara finally comes into sight, ambling out of one of the university buildings with Anika, who’s got her arm slung lazily over Tara’s shoulders.

They’re giggling about something I’ll probably never get to hear, but when they spot me stepping out of the car, their laughter shifts into curiosity. Then it brightens into surprise.

“Y/N?” Anika asks, brows raised as Tara hugs me without hesitation. “What are you doing here? Come to give us a ride?”

I chuckle, a little nervous, hugging Anika as soon as Tara lets go.

“Actually… no. I came to steal Tara for the afternoon.”

Tara raises a brow, her smile teasing. “Oh really? What for?”

I hesitate for half a second. If Anika knows, Mindy will know. And Chad? Chad will find out before I can even blink. I want to keep this quiet for now.

Tara notices the pause. Her smile softens into something gentler. “You know what? Never mind. Surprise me.”

She turns to Anika with a quick squeeze. “I’ll see you at home?”

Anika groans about having to take the subway alone but shrugs it off, hugging Tara one last time before waving and heading down the sidewalk.

Once we’re alone in the car, Tara settles into the passenger seat and turns toward me with curious eyes.

“So… what’s going on?”

I pull onto the road, heading downtown.

“I need your help with something,” I say, glancing her way. She’s got her hands resting quietly in her lap, waiting for me to explain.

“I’m going to propose to Sam. And I need your help picking out a ring.”

Tara gasps. Then she squeals, grabbing my arm.

“You’re proposing? When?”

I laugh, my heart thudding. “I don’t know yet.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Do you have a plan? When did this happen? I mean, I always knew you two would end up married, but now?”

“We’re not getting married right now,” I say quickly, even though just saying the word makes me feel like I’m floating. “It just kind of hit me the other night. We were in bed, just cuddling, and all of a sudden I knew. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to take care of her and make her happy. I don’t have a plan yet. I just know I want to be ready when the right moment comes.”

There’s a pause. When I stop at a red light, I glance at her and find her staring at me with teary eyes.

“You are literally perfect for her,” she whispers, her voice cracking. Then she starts laughing, wiping at her eyes before diving into a stream of proposal ideas.

She goes on and on, from rooftop candlelight to some dramatic beach moment in the south of France.

I just smile and nod, letting her excitement carry us forward. Even though I always knew Tara would be supportive, there was a small part of me that worried she might think it was too soon. But clearly, she’s all in.

We reach the jewelry stores, and after what feels like forever of comparing options and debating settings, we finally find the one.

A simple, elegant gold band with a small round diamond in the center, flanked by two smaller ones set into the band. Classic, understated, and beautiful. Just like Sam.

Tara holds it up to the light, nodding like she’s found the Holy Grail. “She’s going to lose her mind,” she says with a grin.

“I hope so,” I reply, my chest already full.

Of course, Tara decides her expert help deserves dinner, so she invites herself over. We stop by the grocery store, grabbing everything we need for carbonara, before heading home to the apartment Sam and I share.

She’s already home when we get back, stepping out of the bedroom with damp hair and a makeup-free face, dressed in shorts and an oversized hoodie. When she sees Tara and me, she doesn’t even question her being here. She just pecks my lips in passing on the way to the kitchen and asks, “What groceries did you get for dinner?”

“We’re making carbonara. How was your day?” I ask, following her into the kitchen. Tara trails behind me, buzzing with excitement, which makes it ten times harder to act normal. The weight of the ring in my pocket has my hands sweating, but I ignore it as I start unpacking the groceries.

Sam hums, says "yum," and hops onto the kitchen counter, telling us about her day, which was pretty uneventful, while Tara and I cook. Well—I cook. Tara stirs the pasta so it doesn’t stick to the bottom of the pot while I cut the guanciale and grate the cheese.

Then, out of nowhere, Sam asks, “Wait. What were you and Tara doing today? I thought we weren’t supposed to see each other until tomorrow night?“

I freeze. Tara glances at me with a barely restrained grin, which instantly makes Sam go still too.

She stops swinging her legs and sits on her hands, frowning slightly. “What? Am I missing something?”

“No, no,” I say quickly, trying to play it cool, but my voice comes out too high. Tara’s grin widens, not helping at all.

Sam slips off the counter and tugs on my shirt to get me to face her, since I turned back to the stove to hide my flushing face.

I slowly turn, shooting Tara a glare before meeting Sam’s eyes.

“What is it?” she asks quietly, fingers tugging at the hem of my shirt. It makes me flinch, only because her hand is way too close to my pocket. She notices, and her face falls a little. It looks like she thinks I’m pulling away from her, and that makes my heart lurch.

Panic crawls up my chest and I look at Tara again, not surprised when I see she’s practically vibrating with amusement.

I sigh and take Sam’s hands in mine.

Why wait?

I have the ring. I never said I needed a plan. I just wanted to be ready, and right now, everything feels right.

We’re home, Sam’s comfortable, and she’s surrounded by the people who love her most in the world.

I squeeze her hands and give Tara a look. Her eyes widen and she steps back so I can move away from the counter.

I let go of Sam’s hands briefly to turn off the stove. Then I take a deep breath.

“Y/N?” Sam asks, brow furrowed, about to kneel with me when I drop down. I shake my head with a watery smile and gesture for her to stay standing.

When I get down on one knee, it hits her. Her eyes widen as her hands fly up to cover her mouth. She glances at Tara, who’s already pulled out her phone and hit record.

“Do you remember Friday night when we were cuddling?” I start, voice shaky. She looks at me again, eyes wide, but I keep going before she can answer.

“You were sprawled out on top of me like you always are. But that night, I realized I didn’t want to spend another night without knowing you’re mine forever.”

She lets out a soft, watery laugh behind her hands.

“I’ve always known I wanted to marry you. But that was the moment I knew I wanted it soon. So after the weekend, I picked up Tara and asked her to help me find a ring.”

I pull the box from my pocket. A tear slips down my cheek, but weirdly, I’m calm now. My heart’s steady because I know she’ll say yes.

“You are the love of my life. After everything we’ve been through, all I want is to give you the peace and the love you deserve. So... Sammy, will you marry me?”

She’s crying. Ugly crying. But then she drops her hands and says yes, of course I’ll marry you, before cupping my face and bending down to kiss me.

Her hair brushes against my cheeks and her tears drip onto my skin, but I just kiss her back, holding the ring box, with my heart happily fluttering in my chest.

When she pulls away, she’s still crying, and I look at her for permission before gently taking her hand and sliding the ring onto her finger.

Then I stand, and we kiss again. It’s not intense or wild because Tara’s still here, and we’re both too happy to stop smiling.

After a moment of quiet, forehead to forehead, Tara throws her arms around us and squeals.

“You guys are getting married!”

Sam and I lock eyes and start laughing.

“Yeah,” I say, cheeks aching from smiling. “Looks like it.”

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This one’s been sitting in my drafts for a long time, but I finally finished it.

Hope you guys liked it ❤️

[admirationandromantics]

Rivalry

Okay, so great request, I love the so-called enemies with benefits thrope. I don't think there would be a character fitting this more than him too. Maybe Jess or Emily? Idk, I just know that this was fun <3

Part 1 I Part 2

“At least I’m not some stuck up bitch who can’t even solve a simple equation!” Josh shouts, walking up the stairs. 

“Well, I don’t need anger management classes, I’m actually sane!” I shoot back, walking up the other set of stairs. 

I can feel the tension down in the living room, everyone holding their breath. They were all waiting for one of us to explode, one of us to finally be done with each other’s crap. He failed and I won… This round at least. I’d been giving him small snarky remarks all week, slowly riling him up, and I loved it. Usually, we both go at it, but after his sisters heard a comment which struck a little bit too hard, they took him into a room and gave him a berating like a little child. It was hilarious. And now, when we were with everyone up on the mountain, he didn’t dare to insult me in public, afraid that his sisters would berate him once again. After building up, he finally popped, unable to contain his anger and lashing out. Honestly, I did too, I hated him after all. No wonder they say that all rich kids are spoiled and rude, except his sisters of course. 

I don’t know what caused this particular fight. We were all playing a card game, and I used a bit too long to add up the points. Apparently, that was his breaking point. No wonder it took some time, I’ve drunk and I’m tired. I continue making my way up the stairs, walking to my room and slamming the door. I’m sure to lock it too. As I turn around, I’m met with his body slamming into mine, forcing me back on the door. I whine as my back hits the handle. He keeps kissing me roughly and passionate, getting all of his built up frustration out.  

“Not the first time you’ve had that reaction to the door knob” he teases, smirking against my lips. I hate him. I hate his infiltrating nature, and classic smirk, thinking he’s better than everyone else. 

“Well, maybe stop slamming me into it” I comment, grabbing the collar of his shirt and dragging him to the bed. 

“You’re giving me too much power darling” he continues, putting an extra soft tone on the nickname. If it weren’t him, I would have blushed from the name, but I’ve gotten used to his snarky remarks, and I knew he just used them to get under my skin. 

“Stop calling me that Washington” I whisper back in between breaths. I push him down on the bed, going on top of him and pulling at his shirt. He helps me, dragging it off and revealing his toned body. His skin is hot to the touch, and I feel like I’m on fire on him. Slowly being dragged into madness. Though this was not something new. I don’t know when we started doing this, but we both decided that it would be the best way to relieve our frustration. 

“I would prefer it if you called me Josh” he whispers in my ear, starting to leave soft kisses on my neck. 

“Keep dreaming”

“One day you’ll slip”

“I would never” I state as I quickly drag my sweater off, revealing my bra. He stops taking a look at my stomach, sliding his fingers over the dark spots he left the other night. 

“You know, I think you should start parading these” 

“And let everyone know what we’re doing? Absolutely not”

“You’re the boss” he laughs, taking hold of my thighs. I know what he’s about to do. He’s going to turn us around, forcing me under him and taking control, but I won’t let him. Right before he’s about to turn, I put my foot down, and he fails miserably. He grunts against my lips, and I can’t help the smirk that creeps. 

“Smart girl” he comments, unbuttoning my pants. 

“I know your patterns” I whisper, still smirking while he’s working on my neck. He suddenly stops, looking up at me with that familiar smug look. 

“Oh really?” he challenges. He tries to turn us the other way, but I react quickly, stopping him yet again. 

“Fuck” he whispers, admitting defeat. 

“That’s what I thought” I tease him, and I can sense his anger building up again. 

I feel around his shoulder, grazing every part of him, every curve and every muscle. I stand up, taking off my pants, and he does the same, throwing off his underwear at the same time. I take off my bra as well. Before he’s able to react, I push him down on the bed again. Determined to win both rounds today.

He’s surprised by my actions, and tries to get up again, but he only manages to sit up before I take my place on his thighs, kissing him roughly once again. 

When we started doing this, we said no kissing, but as time went on, we figured that it helped the mood a lot. And we would not be talking and insulting each other, too busy fighting for dominance and eating each other's faces off. 

One of his hands moves down to my folds, sliding and tickling lightly. I hate when he does that, making both of us aware of how hot he gets me, how I turn to putty in his arms. 

“N-no” I whine, head going into his shoulder for support while I try to breathe calmly. There was no doubting the fire in between us. Passion, teasing and heavenly lovemaking. The other guys have commented on how we would be perfect for each other if we just put our rivalry aside, but neither of us could. I don’t even know what started it. I remember him being a jerk, and I shot back. The group told me no one else does, they just ignore his remarks. But when I tried, he just pushed harder, making my bubble pop. 

He puts two fingers inside me, and starts pumping them in and out, thumb rubbing soft circles around my clit. 

“Fucking hell, Washington” I moan, throwing my head back in pleasure. He always knew how to work his fingers in the most efficient way possible, able to make me cum in no time. I wouldn’t let him win this time. I take hold of his cock, pumping painfully slowly, making him lose his rhythm. He starts moaning, giving loud grunts and occasional whines. To fuel the experience, I start kissing his neck. As an automatic response, he tilts his head, giving me better access. 

“You’re really off your game today” I tease against his tan skin. The comment makes him wake up, and he quickly grabs hold of my busy hand, forcing it around his neck. I look up confused, unsure about his next move. He moves his hips, hopping me up so I land right down on his dick. The sudden fullness throws me off, and I I give out an uncontrollable moan. He smirks, obviously proud of his little accomplishment. 

“Are you insane?” I ask, panting and sweaty, still getting used to him inside me. 

“Only with you” he whispers, starting to move. “The way you’ve been talking to me… You deserve every bit of this”. 

The action throws me off, and I can’t help the erotic sounds coming out of my mouth. The possessiveness and darkness in his voice turns me on even more, making each thrust sloppier and wetter. I try to push him back on the bed, trying to gain my lost control, but he doesn’t fall. Instead he grabs my thighs harshly, making me whine out in pain. He uses the opportunity to capture my lips again, his mouth winning over mine easily. The grounding of the bed suddenly leaves my legs, and I feel him standing up, holding me tight whilst still inside me. 

“What are you-” my question is stopped by my back slamming against the wall, my breath knocked out. Not being busy with my lips, he attacks my chest and collar with his mouth. His cock is still sliding in and out of me, and I feel my core building up again. I need this, I want to come so fucking bad. I hear his breathing quickens, and my legs wrap around him while he is still holding me up between his torso and the wall. 

He doesn’t even need to rub my clit, our bodies so tight together that the friction from his pelvis is more than enough. I give a whine as I try to hold my release, desperate not to fail. 

“Come on, come on” he chants, biting down on my shoulder to stop himself from finishing. 

I give a small cry as I come, and he does as well. I don’t know who did first, but we both still stand against each other, my back against the wall and legs in the air. We both breathe heavily in tact, emotions all over the place. I look at his lips, feeling almost desperate for some sort of closure. But that cannot work. It’s too intimate for both of us. He keeps looking into my eyes, as if he’s searching for something, but doesn't know what to expect. I’m scared he’ll find out about me, that one part of me wants to be something more, do something deeper. I wiggle a little, and he carefully sets me down, making sure I still can feel my feet and have balance. We both walk in silence over to our clothing, and I have to look all over my room to find my bra. 

“Hey” he exclaims, and I look up, seeing my panties in his hands. 

“Give them here Washington” I threaten, holding out my hand. He gives me that irritating smug look, and I’m almost happy I didn’t kiss him in the end. As I go to grab them, he lifts them higher in the air, dodging my attempts. 

“It’s Josh, say it!” he teases, and I look at him with contempt. 

“I swear to god, if you don’t give me-”

“You’ll what? Fuck me again?” he smirks, proud of his remark. 

“You know what, keep them” I wave my hand, putting on my leggings. 

“Knowing that you’re walking around like that is gonna turn me on even more” 

“Ugh, get a life Washington. Don’t you have anything better to do than thinking about me?”

He laughs, a small one which sounds genuine. “I guess I don’t”

“See you in a couple of hours” I say, making my way to the door. 

“Two times in one night?”

“You can be so infuriating” I say to him, seeing him put my panties in his pocket. 

“Well, that’s just part of the game”

[enhard]

idk if you saw but there’s this one clip in Idol 1D2N of Sunghoon, rolling his eyes back while groaning after failing to score points ( 18:48-18:50). Please please write about it because I feel like that’s what he looks if someone gives him a mind blowing head after a frustrating day…

-🍄

🍄 anon this is perfect just PERFECT

and how he’d become so pouty when he comes back home, wishing you’d get the hint.. you get me?

putting the clip here just for the sake of it😩

park sunghoon — “a long day”

pairing: bf!p.sh x fem!reader

not proofread, enjoy! (MDNI)

you already knew his members were giving him a hard time, not listening to him, doing whatever they wanted, teasing him until he got upset and so on.

you knew because he texted you about it and you were there to comfort him.

sunghoon: [i can’t stay here anymore they keep annoying me for no reason]

[i’m actually fucking done they’re not listening]

[jake did the choreo wrong 5 times already and i told him what he did wrong and he didn’t even care to fix it]

he just keeps ranting. and you’re listening.

you: [baby i know it’s frustrating, if you don’t want to stay there come over after break😓]

[you can talk to me about it, just hang in there a bit more]

sunghoon: [okay love i’ll drop by i love you]

you just send him a silly gif and wait for him to finish his work.

after half an hour or so, you can hear your apartment doorbell ringing. you quickly get up from your couch to open the door just to see him standing in the doorway.

he slightly smiles at you, but you can tell that he’s pissed. he pulls you in his arms, his hands trailing down to grab your waist.

“i missed you.” he says, sounding exhausted from the mental chaos he went through today.

you chuckle at him, sneaking your lips onto his neck to give him sweet and soft kisses.

“i missed you too love.” you say between kisses.

at one point he pulls away to close the door and to sit down on the couch.

you offer him a glass of water and he nods in a way of thanking you.

he drinks a few sips to regather his thoughts and then he starts ranting about his day.

he seems so frustrated with everything that went today and you just feel bad for him, he’s trying his best but he just had a bad day.

he’s fidgeting with his fingers, looking for something to relieve him from the stress..

you know something popped up in his mind when he suddenly looked at you all pouty, being way too clingy and sticking to your arm a little too many times.

all it missed was for him to say it out loud, it was clear what he wanted. instead of you saying it right away, you stood up and got behind the couch.

you slowly leaned over the couch to hug him from behind, giving him kisses on his shoulder.

he smiles at you, getting a bit whiny now.

“loveee.. what are you doing..?” he says, throwing his head back to look at you.

you grab his cheeks, smiling back at him.

“maybe i can help you relax…” you pout back at him. “oh really? and how’s that?” he teases.

“oh you know exactly how, let me suck you off, i’ll make you feel good .. please?” you give him a small kiss on his forehead.

he nods, grabbing onto your arms to pull you closer.

you giggle at him already walking up in front of him again. giving him a smile, you gently get on your knees.

as you palm his crotch with your hand, he can’t help but laugh a bit.

“you’re always so good at finding excuses to fuck me up, aren’t you?” he scoffs.

your smile widens. “mmm.. maybe. i just crave you all the time.”

your hands stop listening to you, moving down to his pants to take them off. you don’t take them off all the way, just enough to expose his boxers.

you lift his shirt up a bit to give him a soft kiss on his abdomen, going back down to kiss his bulge. after a few sweet kisses, you finally take his boxers off.

you lick your lips once your eyes make contact with his cock, all red and waiting for you.

sunghoon furrows his eyebrows looking at you grab the base of his cock and lick at his tip, mumbling sweet words.

“love, do it already. put it in your mouth.”

“such a good girl, so good for me.”

and so on.

you continue licking his tip, abusing it with your tongue and getting to taste his precum. he gasps when he feels his tip in your mouth.

you’re sucking on it, giving it licks here and there while your hand is pumping him up and down slowly. it doesn’t take many strokes for him to start moaning.

“darling please…” he begs. you look up and him smiling, his tip still inside your mouth. you know you’re being a tease and.. he’s pretty frustrated as is, it must not be the time to tease him now.

you push your head down to take him whole. resting your hands on his thighs, you bop your head up and down until his tip reaches the back of your throat.

you choke a little, but at the same time you’re used to him. you’ve done this before. he grabs onto your hair to encourage you to keep going, moaning with every movement of yours.

he throws his head back, rolling his eyes at the same time (just like in the video) feeling you spitting on his cock, getting all messy and sloppy. you’re completely slurping him up, using your hand to stroke him when you decide to focus on that swollen tip of his.

“baby..fuck that feels good.” he moans out. you’re feeling him twitch in your mouth, hitting the roof of your mouth.. how can you not love moments like this. he’s so fucking hot.

as you’re tracing circles around his tip, you hear him cry out again. he’s begging and begging for you to keep going, you’re so good at this and you both know that you are.

he grabs onto your hair tighter just to fuck your throat. he keeps your head in place to thrust up into your mouth. he’s moaning and whimpering exactly how he wants, those noises being like a thank you card for helping him de-stress.

he looks back at you as he’s face fucking you, honestly not caring about much, just thinking about his pleasure. he loves the chokes and gags he hears every so often from you, fuelling him to continue.

after some more powerful thrusts, his voice cracks with his orgasm building in his stomach.

you can only mumble nonsense, whining and humming loudly. he’s about to cum and you’re there to swallow it all.

“baby..i can’t. i need to cum” he whimpers out loud.

he leaves thrusts even faster than the previous ones, his last thrust lasting longer. he cums down your throat, only pulling out of your mouth when you give him the signal that you swallowed it all. he’s noisy. very noisy. but you don’t mind and you couldn’t care less if your neighbours heard.

he pulls his cock away from your mouth, a string of saliva and cum linking them until you give his cock one last kiss. he releases the grasp on your hair, panting and squeezing his eyes shut.

you just smile, standing up to give him a little kiss. his cock is definitely still aching, it’s still hard. you know it’ll take more to help him relax than just a blowjob.

“let me really help you relax now.” you smile confidently.

[heartdiluc]

❤︎₊ ⊹ STRESS RELIEVER !!

synopsis. office sex drabbles w genshin men <3

featuring. wriothelsey, kaeya, alhaitham

WARNINGS. explicit nsfw, sub fem reader, semi-public sex (no getting caught), praise, handcuffs (wrio), kinda ooc, spanking (alhaitham)

[⚠️] read dni info and warnings

WRIOTHESLEY

you were only here to drop off lunch for him. that was it!! but of course wriothesley couldn’t just let you go and insists that you stay and he’ll spend his lunch break with you

he’s just so whipped for you omfg he appreciates the gesture of you bringing him lunch and just thinks you look so so cute in your casual clothing and it’s just so nice to see you when he’s been busy working

while yes he starts his break catching up with you, he’s somehow managed to turn it into him bending you over his desk.

“wrio—!" you whine, keeping your face down on wriothesley’s desk that you’re bent over with your legs dangling off the side. “keep your voice down, darling.” you feel cold metal at your wrists and a loud click that follows. you gasp realizing it was his handcuffs, which elicits a smile from your boyfriend.

“don’t tell me you’re getting nervous on me,” he laughs. “just keep your legs spread for me princess,” is all he says before pushing his cock into your pussy until he’s fully sheathed inside.

“fuck— too d-deep!” you whimper out as wriothesley presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “you’re so sensitive,” wrio mumbles out before moving his hips, pulling out and pushing his cock back in hard and deep.

KAEYA ALBERICH

you work in the favonius headquarters, managing the library when Lisa is away. today was one of those days. Kaeya, your coworker and boyfriend, of course insists on visiting the library to see you.

the library was empty and dead quiet. you were startled by Kaeya coming through the doors. before you can even greet him, Kaeya is already wrapping his arms around you from behind and tucking his face to your neck.

“busy day, captain?” you ask, still focusing on shelving the books in front of you.

“i’m stuck here for another two hours,” he laments. “missed you.” you can’t help but smile at his clinginess. he scatters kisses across your face and neck between every few sentences while he mumbles about his busy day.

you’re weak to him. you know it’s unprofessional but you let him take this as far as he wants. he keeps an arm wrapped around your middle to support you while his other arm is reaching down between your legs under your skirt. he's pushing your panties to the side and teasing you, fingers threatening to push into your pussy. “not even going to try and stop me? such a little slut…” he mutters to you, smiling at how you blush out of embarrassment. he finally does push his fingers into your pussy, reaching deep that your own fingers couldn’t reach.

“that’s it sweetheart— i’ll get you to make a mess on my fingers…” Kaeya coos to you while he angles his deft fingers to fuck you harder. his fingerless leather gloves now shiny wet because of you.

ALHAITHAM

as the acting grand sage, Alhaitham works long hours. he's always so busy and it's rare that you're able to visit him. you knock on his office door and his eyes soften once he realizes its you.

"i'm surprised to see you here," is all he manages to mumble out before bringing you in and seating himself back at his desk. and to your surprise, he asks for you to sit on his lap while he works and ofc you can't say no to this rare offer and you just missed haitham so much

it doesn't take long for alhaitham to get bored of the papers in front of him and starts to burry his face into your neck, leaving kisses across your skin. and it doesn't take much pleading from you to convince him to let you cockwarm him.

Alhaitham's hands grip your waist as he lowers you onto his cock. you gasp out his name at the feeling of your pussy getting stretched to fit his cock. "shh... stay still for me alright? i'll be done in a minute. just sit there pretty for me," alhaitham says aloof, before refocusing his attention to his task at hand.

you wrap your arms around his shoulders to keep yourself still. although you're trying to not be distracting, you can't help how sensitive you are and how your cunt is clamping down on alhaitham's dick. every little whimper or squirm you make is met with a spank to your thigh from alhaitham. “told you to stay still,” he reminds you. “be good and i’ll consider bending you over my desk and fucking you properly,”

[luiluvr]

darling || luigi mangione

ugh dad!luigi consumes my every single thought... also sorry for being lowkey dead with fics, i'm working on ur guys' requests rn!! but here's a little drabble to keep y'all fed, cause i'm not going anywhere :D

WARNINGS: none, dad!luigi, f!reader, fluff, not proofread

SUMMARY: Your daughter, Clara brings home a pamphlet to sell sweet treats for a fundraiser and is desperate to get sales, soon after she starts bickering about snacks, and Luigi helps encourage her to eat something healthy that'll keep her satisfied until dinner was finished. However, he sneaks her out for ice cream later that night. :)

WC: 1.5k

Luigi was always an excellent husband, but he was an even better father. When you had given birth a few years back, to your now seven-year-old daughter, he was such a nervous wreck — now look at him. A natural, he would do anything and everything for your little girl. 

She came home giddy and grasping some little booklet, “Mommy!” You smiled down at her, a sweet little thing she was, a crooked grin, Luigi’s curly hair and her eyes reflected your own. She had his intelligence too — sometimes it wasn’t such a blessing. She’d bicker over everything and she thought similarly to Luigi, so of course they’d back up one another.

He was a sucker for her, and everything he did was in her favor.

She slapped the little booklet on the counter beside where you sat, it was one of those magazine-like things where students sell stuff for fundraisers. She seemed over the top about it, “What’cha got there, Clara?” Just a little name – an old reference now. “My teacher said we need to raise some money for our program in April, and we’re gonna sell sweets!” Oh, she’s too cute. Her words were still developing and her pronunciation. She was absolutely perfect though

“Yeah? What kind of sweets?” You replied.

“Cookies, candies, cakes, uhm and chees-y cakes.”

“Cheese cake, huh?” You chuckled.

“Yeah! Will you buy, mommy?” She gave you those big babydoll eyes that no one would ever be able to deny, even then – you would buy anything from her anyway, she was your daughter, plus it was helping the school; and she was non-stop talking about this program since Christmas break. Her teacher had told them about it beforehand, that practice would start either the end of January or beginning of February. Everyday she mentioned it at least once.

“Of course, sweetheart. These double chocolate chip cookies sound delicious.”

Clara clapped excitedly and jumped in place —- it was great timing that Luigi walked in through the front door, a gentle breeze lingered in the door and circulated around. Clara darted towards the door without question and jumped up into his muscular arms. His tan skin slightly contrasted her slightly paleness. It was always such a heartwarming sight, he held her high and treated her like a mini princess. Showered her in kisses and she squished his growing, flushed and stubbled cheeks. “Daddy, will you buy from me?” She says.

His brows furrowed a little, his lips purse out. “Hmm, it depends. What shop is open today little lady?” Clearly, he assumed it was playtime for her as she would often open “shops” in the house and Luigi was always caught up in playing the customer. Clara shook her head vigorously and laughed, “No, daddy, I’m selling sweets for school.” 

“Oh, is that so? What kind?”

“Cookies, candies, cakes and chees-y cakes!” She repeated.

“Well, that sounds delicious, consider it done.” He smiled so lovingly at her, squeezing her in his arms. She cheers and waves to you, “Mommy! Daddy’s gonna buy too, I’m going to raise LOTS of money!” You can’t help but chuckle, normally parents would buy from their kids, honestly, it was pretty much a responsibility to do so. Luigi turns his head and smirks, “You know, I was on the phone with my ma earlier, she said they’re wanting to have a family gathering within the next week or two, how long are you gonna be selling for, darling?” He asks Clara.

“Um, the rest of this month.” She says cautiously.

“I’ll ask her teacher in the morning when I drop her off.” You state softly, flipping through the pamphlet of sweets. “Sounds good,” Luigi says. Clara grins widely, which seems to remind Luigi of something. “Oh, right. I’m sure if you bring that booklet to the family gathering lots of people will buy those sweets from you.” This makes Clara happy.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“You get anything in return for it, Clara?” You asked, staring over a page with cake flavors.

“Uh huh! My teacher said if we sell so much we get prizes.”

“So, a fundraising campaign, huh?” Luigi says, setting the girl down gently.

She nods and runs back to you at the kitchen island, you tilt your head at her as she tries climbing on the tall stool. You have to help her up of course, Luigi joins the both of you as well. He slides the pamphlet over to himself and starts flipping through it, being his little food-desperate self, his stomach growled. “Daddy!” Clara laughs. 

“I didn’t have a big lunch.”

“I’m hungry too, mommy can we have a snack?”

You debated a moment and nodded, “yes, but you’re gonna have some fruits ‘cause I’m going to start dinner soon, plus we agreed you’d eat those strawberries I bought you.” You state, brushing one of her long curls from her face. She sighs dramatically, “I don’t want fruit, I want chips.” Luigi monitors the disagreement, but doesn’t say anything as he’s pretty aware that you’ll be able to handle it calmly yet effectively. “Clara, we agreed if I got you the strawberries and pineapples you’d eat them until they were gone.”

“Yeah I know, momma.” She pouts. “I’ll cut them up for you, but maybe tomorrow you can have some chips as a snack.” You stated.

“Okay.” She smiles, very obviously not happy with the outcome, but chooses it’s best not to make a big argument out of it. 

“Hey sweetpea,” Luigi whispers to Clara, whose head pops up at the sound of her dad’s voice. “Yeah?”

“If you eat your snack, and don’t give mommy any more headaches, you ‘n me will go get ice cream later tonight, how’s that sounds?”

Her cheeks flush and she giggles, nodding excitedly. “Yes!”

“Shh, darling,” He chuckles, lifting her up to take her to the living room. Her favorite show usually was on about this time of day. It was admirable, Luigi had such a soft spot for her, he always put her as a main priority, but he could be assertive when needed, although he hated getting onto her when she was in trouble. Of course, that ending up being your job, for some godforsaken reason. “I don’t want her to think I hate her,” he’d say, as if you wanted her to think that about you! You guys never had cruel punishments or disciplined her heavily — yes, you’d get onto her, maybe smack her hand if she was messing with something breakable or if she was mean to one of the cousins, nothing that would ever make her second-think everything she ever did. Mistakes happen, if she stained/ruined something, why get pissed off? You never understood some parents. Similarly, Luigi never forced anything, like how his mother always wanted him to be “formal” at the dinner table.

Who cares how you hold your fork? Unless you’re royalty. He would fight it off as a child, it was hilarious when he told you about that, because sometimes Clara acted the same way. She was very opinionated for a seven-year-old.

As you cooked, the two accompanied one another on the couch, little crunches from Clara chewing her fruit and the TV echoed softly. Clara ended up taking a nap and Luigi came into the kitchen, watching you intently. Sometimes he did that, he’d watch you cook and either admire it or tell you what you were doing wrong. Pretty sure he picked that up from his mom too, since cooking was a big thing in their large, Italian family. Today he opted out and just wrapped his warm arms around your waist and peppered soft kisses on your neck as you cooked.

“Lu,” you murmur. “I’m trying to cook, and be careful this grease is popping everywhere.”

“Spaghetti again?” He says, playfully nipping at your exposed shoulder.

“Clara likes it.” You replied, tensing at his teeth.

“I’ve eaten too much pasta in this lifetime.” He groans. You smile, “There’s other leftovers in the refrigerator. The homemade pizza, and red chili.”

“Red chili huh?”

“Day before yesterday, just warm it up and put it on a tortilla or rice. There’s still some of that in there too.” You say, dumping the noodles in the bubbling, boiling water. “Alright.” He responds, rubbing his hand under your shirt, patting your back before removing himself from you.

—- 

Long after dinner was cleaned up, you decided to shower, and after getting out, dressed and realized it’s quiet. Too quiet. You peek out, most of the lights are off. Luigi isn’t in bed yet, and Clara’s bedroom door is wide open, contrast to how she normally prefers it closed.

Then the front door opened, quietly but not quiet enough. You stand in the kitchen, tapping your finger on the other arm, as they fold together. It was mainly dark besides the light they flick on to see you waiting. “Luigi Nicholas and Clara Lillian Mangione.” You say, they pause in their tracks, half-eaten ice cream cones in their hands. 

Clara giggles and runs to her room upstairs, Luigi stands awkwardly, sometimes he was like a second kid. He licked his ice cream and grins, the residue on his rosy lips.

“Ice cream?” He asks.

You were literally going to kill him.

[sweets-library]

Far Far Away

Shouta Aizawa/reader. Hizashi Yamada & Reader hurt/comfort. wc: 6.2k.

READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. DO NOT READ THIS IF THEY DO NOT APPEAL TO YOU. 18+ content warnings: Time outs, light punishments, use of daddy as a title, themes of discipline and D/S dynamics, a lot of caregiving in general

a/n: ok i dont wanna give too much away in the content warnings but yall know what i mean when i say discipline and d/s dynamics. no spanking this time tho! everyone clap for y/n Ao3

-

“Hi, baby. How are you?”

His voice came through steady and low and it immediately made you feel a little more grounded. You closed your eyes, gripping the phone tighter, as if that would bring him closer.

“Hi, Daddy,” you murmured, softer than you meant to.

A brief pause. Not hesitation, but recognition. Shouta had always been good at reading you, even when you barely said a word.

“…Sweetheart,” he said carefully, “are you doing alright?”

You bit your lip. Of course, he knew. He always knew. Normally, you would fumble your way into a call like this, a little shy, a little unsure before you were able to call him that special title. But not tonight. Tonight, everything felt raw, like a wound you couldn’t bandage fast enough.

“Um… I’m okay. I miss you.”

The lie hung in the air, heavy and brittle. He let it sit for a moment, giving you space to backtrack, to admit the truth. When you didn’t, he pressed gently.

“I miss you too, baby. Have you been taking care of yourself? Did you eat dinner?”

The tenderness in his voice was too much. Your throat tightened, and you looked down, ashamed, even though he wasn’t there to see it.

“Yeah. I mean… not really. I...”

Your words caught, tangled in a mess of guilt and fatigue. Shouta stayed quiet, waiting. He always waited, never rushing you, no matter how long it took.

“I… I messed up,” you finally whispered, the words cracking as they escaped. “I keep messing up. It’s like when you’re gone, I just… I fall apart. I can’t do what I’m supposed to do. I’m so fucking useless. It’s pathetic, and I just-”

“Hey. Stop,” he interrupted, firm but not unkind. “You know better than to talk about yourself like that.”

The sharpness in his tone cut through your spiralling thoughts, snapping you back to the moment. You took a shaky breath, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tears.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out. “You’re going to be mad, and I deserve it. I’ve been so awful, and I-”

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice softening just enough to break through your panic, “I need you to listen to me, okay? I’m not mad. I’m not going to be mad. But I need you to tell me what’s going on so I can help. Start from the beginning. Take your time.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, and inhaled deeply, the way he’d taught you before.

“I haven’t been sleeping,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Work’s been crazy. Overtime, deadlines, and then I come home, and I just… I can’t turn it off. I keep working, or I just stare at my computer feeling guilty that it's not getting done.”

Shouta hummed quietly, encouraging you to continue.

“And I haven’t been eating right,” you added, the words spilling out in a rush. “I’m so tired I can’t cook, so I just order takeout, or I skip meals. And then I feel guilty because I’m spending too much money, and I know you wouldn't let me do this, and it’s just this cycle I can’t get out of.”

Your breath hitched, and you clenched your free hand into a fist, nails biting into your palm.

“And my chore chart,” you said, your voice breaking. “I stopped filling it out. I couldn’t keep up, and every time I looked at it, I just… I felt so useless. Like I can’t even do the basics.”

Silence. Not the cold kind, never with him, but the kind that felt like an open hand, waiting.

“Are you done?” he asked gently, after a moment.

You hesitated, then nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he said. “First things first: I need you to breathe for me again. Can you do that, sweetheart?”

You obeyed, drawing in a long, shaky breath and letting it out slowly.

“Good,” he said, his tone softening even more. “Now listen to me. You’re not useless, and you’re not lazy. You’re overwhelmed. You’re tired. And you’re human. That’s all.”

“But-”

“No buts,” he interrupted firmly. “You’re doing the best you can, and that’s enough for me. Always.”

The tears came harder then, the weight of his words breaking through the fragile dam you’d built around yourself.

“Sweetheart,” he continued, his voice steady and calm, “where are you right now?”

“In the living room,” you sniffled, wiping at your face.

“Good. I want you to stay there, okay? I’m going to call someone to check in on you, just to make sure you’re alright.”

“No, you don’t have to-”

“I do,” he said, cutting you off gently. “Because I care about you. And because I’m not there to do it myself, as much as I want to be.”

The thought of him worrying about you, of him arranging for someone to come over, made your chest tighten, but not in a bad way. For the first time in days, you felt like you weren’t drowning.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Good girl,” he said softly, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re going to get through this together. You’re not alone, no matter how far apart we are. Remember that.”

You breathed steadily, the sound of Shouta’s calm voice blending with the faint tapping on his end as he made the call. Reinforcements, you thought bitterly. Because you couldn’t handle yourself. The shame curled tightly in your chest, a weight pressing down. How ridiculous it was that he couldn’t even leave you alone without things falling apart. You swallowed hard, guilt prickling at the edges of your thoughts.

“Alright, kid,” Shouta said, breaking the silence. His tone was gentle but authoritative. “Hizashi’s finishing his show in about an hour. He’s going to come straight to you after. That gives us some time to talk, okay? Does that sound good?”

His steady control over the situation soothed you, unravelling the frayed edges of your nerves. This was why you needed him. With Shouta, you could let go, surrendering the reins that felt so heavy in your own hands.

“Yes, please, Daddy,” you mumbled, the words almost a whisper.

“Good. Put me on speaker and head to the bedroom,” he instructed. “Change into your pajamas.”

You obeyed without hesitation, the simplicity of his commands grounding you in a way your chaotic thoughts couldn’t. Shouta’s voice followed you as you moved, steady and guiding.

“Now brush your teeth,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “Take your time.”

You followed his instructions, the familiar rhythm of your nightly routine slowly easing the tension from your shoulders. Step by step, he walked you through it: brushing your teeth, washing your face, doing your hair. Each small task felt like a lifeline, pulling you out of the spiral you’d been trapped in.

By the time you sat at the kitchen table with a glass of water in front of you, your breathing had evened out.

“Alright,” Shouta said, his voice calm but purposeful. “Let’s talk about the chore chart.”

You sighed, the mention of it making your stomach twist. 'Chore chart' wasn’t quite the right name for it. It was more like a self-care guide, a list of small tasks meant to help you stay on track when Shouta wasn’t around. Taking pictures of your meals to send him, jotting down one thing you were proud of in your journal, tidying up small areas of the house, it was supposed to help. And it had, for a while.

But lately, it had felt like a mountain you couldn’t climb, a constant reminder of how far you were falling behind.

“Do you think it’s still helping you?” Shouta asked, his tone free of judgment. “Or is it starting to feel like too much? The point is for it to support you, not to add stress. If it’s not working anymore, we can scrap it.”

“No!” you blurted, shaking your head even though he couldn’t see you. “No, I like it. I do. I just…” Your voice faltered, and you took a sip of water to steady yourself.

“I got so busy,” you continued, “that I kept missing things. And once I got behind, it just… it felt awful. Writing down ‘forgot’ or ‘failed’ on every square, like I was disappointing you. Like you’d come home and see how bad I was doing.”

Shouta was quiet for a moment, the weight of his presence palpable even through the phone.

“Sweetheart,” he said finally, his voice soft but firm. “The chart isn’t a report card. It’s not there for me to judge you. It’s there to help you stay balanced, to remind you to take care of yourself. Missing things doesn’t make you a failure. It makes you human.”

You bit your lip, the tears threatening to return. “But it feels like I let you down.”

“You could never let me down,” he said simply. “You’re doing your best, and that’s all I ever ask of you. If the chart isn’t working right now, we’ll figure out something else. Together.”

The knot in your chest loosened, just a little. Shouta’s calm reassurances felt like a balm, soothing the ache of your self-doubt.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Good girl,” he said softly, his tone warm and steady, grounding you. “We’re going to take this one step at a time. I’m here for you, even when I’m not physically there. You’re not alone in this, understand?”

You nodded, wiping at your eyes, though the lump in your throat still lingered. “I understand.”

“Good. For starters, I want you to leave the chart as it is until I get back. We’ll rework it together to better suit what you need right now,” he said, his voice calm and measured. “Instead, I’d like you to text my personal phone throughout the day, the one I left at the agency. It's turned off and locked up so nobody will see it till I get back. Just send little updates about how you’re feeling and what you’ve been doing. That way, I can read them when I’m home, and we can go over what felt good or bad. It won’t be staring at you from the kitchen wall, and it won’t feel like a looming reminder. Does that sound easier for now?”

You paused, considering his words. It did feel easier, less like a record of your failures and more like a conversation. Something about the idea of texting him felt gentler, more forgiving. At least then, you wouldn’t have to see the evidence of your perceived shortcomings every time you passed through the kitchen.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I think that’s better.”

“Alright,” Shouta said. There was approval in his tone, but it wasn’t smug or self-satisfied. It was simply… kind. Encouraging. “Now, I need you to listen to me carefully. You don’t have to agree to this. In fact, I don’t want you to if you’re not completely sure it will be good for you.”

“Okay,” you replied, your voice tinged with nervous curiosity.

“Do you want to agree on some punishments for this past week?” His tone remained steady, but there was a thread of hesitation, as if he was carefully weighing each word before saying it. “If you want to wipe the slate clean until I get back, that’s perfectly fine. In fact, I’d encourage it. But if you think it would help you feel less guilty and more grounded I’m willing to discuss it.”

Your breath hitched at his offer. A part of you had hoped for this, even though you hadn’t dared to bring it up.

“Yes,” you said quickly, your voice trembling with both relief and desperation. “Yes, please. I’m so sorry, and I want- I need to fix it. I need to feel like I’ve made up for everything I did wrong.”

There was a pause, the kind that stretched just long enough to make you wonder if you’d said too much. But when Shouta spoke again, his voice was as steady and calming as ever.

“Alright,” he said gently, though there was still a hint of caution in his tone. “If this is what you feel will help, we can talk about it. But you need to understand something first. This isn’t about punishing you for being human or for struggling. It’s about finding a way to help you let go of the guilt. If, at any point, it feels like too much, or if you change your mind, you tell me immediately. Understood?”

You nodded again, the weight in your chest easing just a little. “Understood.”

The discussion took up most of the time you had left, your voice trembling as you pushed for punishments that were harsher than you deserved. But Shouta, calm and steady as always, gently shut you down each time.

“No, sweetheart,” he said firmly when you suggested scrubbing the floors by hand. “Thats not going to solve anything. You’re not trying to wear yourself down or punish yourself into being better. You’re learning to take care of yourself. This isn’t about exhaustion; it’s about growth.”

His words carried the weight of authority, but there was no harshness in them. Still, each rejection left you feeling raw, vulnerable, until finally, with his guidance, you both settled on a plan.

“Alright,” Shouta said, his tone resolute but kind. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

You were to write 10 lines of positive affirmations in your journal every night till he’s home, a task designed to combat the negative thoughts you’d been drowning in. “And I mean real affirmations,” he clarified, his voice stern but compassionate. “No half-hearted ‘I guess I’m okay.’ I want to see sentences like, ‘I’m strong,’ ‘I’m capable,’ ‘I’m doing my best.’ Understand?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you murmured, the weight of his expectations settling on your shoulders.

“Good,” he said. “You’re also going to log off your work computer by six pm. No exceptions. And no screens at all after eight. That includes your phone. I’ll still call you at 8:30 but that is the only time it should be in your hand”

Your usual bedtime of a lenient 11 was now a firm 9:30. Shouta had been clear: this wasn’t a punishment so much as a safeguard, a way to ensure you were getting the rest you so clearly needed.

Finally, he brought up the hardest part.

“And I’m going to have Hizashi check in on you over the phone in the afternoons,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “He’ll make sure you’re staying on track and looking after yourself. It’s not negotiable.”

You swallowed hard, guilt bubbling up at the thought of imposing on Hizashi. “I don’t want to bother him…”

“You’re not bothering him,” Shouta interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “He cares about you too, and he’s happy to help. You need to let people support you, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard, Hizashi can be a loudmouth, but he's patient, and he's good at picking people up. I trust him with my life and yours baby, do you?”

You nodded reluctantly, the logic in his words undeniable.

“And tonight,” Shouta continued, his voice softening just a fraction, “you’re going to take a 15-minute timeout in the corner while Hizashi’s there.”

The suggestion hit like a blow, your stomach twisting with embarrassment. “What?”

“This isn’t about shame,” he explained gently, anticipating your reaction. “It’s about reflection. I want you to think about how you’ve been treating yourself this week. Think about the fact that you could have asked Hizashi—or any of your friends—for help instead of letting things spiral. You’re not a burden, and it’s important you start believing that.”

“But why does he have to be there?” you asked hesitantly, your voice small.

“Because I want you to have someone there to bring you back down to earth if you start feeling overwhelmed,” Shouta said simply. “I’m trusting Hizashi to make sure this exercise is constructive, not self-flagellating. And, if you’re feeling brave enough, maybe you can talk to him about how you’ve been feeling. I know the guy talks a lot, but he can be good at listening too, if you let him.”

The knot in your throat tightened, but you nodded again, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

“You’re stronger than you think, kid,” Shouta said, his tone softening even further. “None of this because I’m angry. I’m doing it because I care about you, and I know you can get through this. One step at a time, remember?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill again. “One step at a time.”

Then a soft chime interrupted the moment, and Shouta sighed, his tone shifting to one of reluctant responsibility. “Honey, I’m so sorry, but I have to go. Duty calls.” His voice softened as he continued, “I’ll call Hizashi and fill him in on what we decided, okay? He’ll be there soon.”

The hour had flown by, leaving you wishing for just a little more time. The lump in your throat was hard to ignore, but you swallowed it down, trying to sound steady.

“Okay,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I love you, Sho. I miss you so much.”

The line was quiet for a beat, and then he sighed deeply, his voice rich with warmth. “Sweet girl, I love you so, so much. You hear me? More than anything. And I am always proud of you. I’ll be home before we know it, baby. Just hold on for me a little longer.”

His reassurance wrapped around you like a blanket, soothing the ache in your chest.

“Hizashi will be there in about 20 minutes,” he continued, his tone regaining its usual calm authority. “Go ahead and start on your lines while you wait for him. You’ll feel better once you’ve written a few. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, baby. Same time, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you replied, a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite the heaviness in your heart.

“Goodbye, sweetheart.”

And then, with a quiet click, the call ended, leaving you staring at the phone, the room suddenly feeling quieter and colder without his voice.

You took a deep breath, glancing at the journal on the table. Even though he wasn’t there, his presence lingered in every word he’d said, steadying you. With a small nod to yourself, you picked up your pen and opened the journal, ready to take the first step forward.

Writing lines is hard. The pen feels heavy in your hand as you try to think of nice things to say about yourself. The first few are simple—things Shouta would remind you of, like “I work hard” or “I care about others.” But as the list grows, so does the weight in your chest, and by the time you’ve scratched out seven, you’re staring at the page like it’s mocking you.

The knock at the door jolts you out of your thoughts. Your stomach flips with dread, and you take a moment to steel yourself. Mortification burns hot in your chest at the thought of what’s coming next, but you can’t exactly keep Hizashi waiting.

You open the door, and before you can say a single word, the blonde sweeps you into his arms, wrapping you in a tight, warm hug.

“Baaaaby!” he exclaims, his voice bursting with its usual vibrancy. “Why didn’t you call me? Here I am, missing out on hanging with my favorite listener, and she’s sitting here all down in the dumps? That’s just cruel!”

Despite the dramatic delivery, the embrace is exactly what you need. The tension in your shoulders melts away as you lean into him without realizing it, letting yourself feel the comfort he radiates so effortlessly.

When he finally pulls back, his hands come up to cup your cheeks, squishing them gently until your lips puff out. His bright, expressive eyes scan your face, and while his pout is exaggerated, his concern feels genuine.

“Look at this face,” he says, shaking his head like he’s utterly scandalized. “How could you think for even a second that I’d be too busy for you?”

“Hi, Hizashi,” you mumble, still feeling small but lighter now, the edges of your lips twitching into a shy smile. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve got a lot going on…”

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head with mock indignation, sending his long braid swaying behind him. His glasses sit slightly askew from the dramatic hug, but he doesn’t seem to care as he flashes you a grin.

“Never too busy for you, babycakes,” he says firmly, his voice softening as he rubs your shoulders gently. “Now, come on. Let’s go sit down and get comfy. Sho filled me in, so we’ve got a plan to tackle this together, okay?”

You nod, the knot in your chest loosening a little more as he ushers you toward the couch. Hizashi’s presence is like a burst of sunshine in your quiet storm- bright, warm, and just distracting enough to make the heaviness feel less suffocating.

As he passes through the kitchen, Hizashi’s sharp eyes catch sight of your journal lying open on the table. With his usual flair, he sweeps it up dramatically, reading your lines so far with a  gasp that’s clearly over the top.

“Heyyy, baby! Look at you, crushing it already! These are solid gold affirmations,” he says, giving you an encouraging grin. “I’ve got a few ideas to spice up this list, though. I mean, ‘I care about others’ is cute and all, but how about ‘I’ve got a killer sense of humor’ or ‘I light up any room I walk into?’”

You can’t help but laugh at his delivery, a perfect mix of genuine pride and playful bravado. He carefully sets the journal back down, tapping it lightly with his finger. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you finish these before bed. Just, uh, let’s keep it between us. Can’t have that strict old man knowing I cheated and gave you an edge, right?”

You smile back, but you know he’s full of it. You remember the time, not long after he’d learned about yours and Shouta’s dynamic, when he joked about you writing your lines in both English and Japanese. You didn’t even think Shouta cared if you made spelling mistakes, he just wanted you to work through it.

Still smiling, you follow him into the living room. Hizashi plops down onto the middle cushion of the couch with all the grace of a collapsing star. His long limbs sprawl out in every direction, and he rests his hands lazily on his knees, eyes glinting up at you mischievously.

“Alright, honey,” he says, his tone suddenly mock-serious. “Any last words before I throw you in the slammer?”

At first, the playful edge to his voice makes you want to giggle, but then the weight of his words sinks in. Your face flushes crimson, and the reality of the situation hits you; he’s actually the one overseeing this. You hadn’t realized that Shouta had implied Hizashi would be the one in charge of your time out. You thought he’d just be there for support, to keep you grounded and make sure you didn’t break down. Now, though? The idea of sitting in the corner under Hizashi’s watch feels like a whole new level of mortification.

You fidget with the hem of your shirt, your voice barely a whisper. “I, um… I didn’t think you’d actually…”

Hizashi tilts his head, his grin softening into something more understanding.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says gently, his voice laced with compassion. “You know this isn’t about me being strict or scary, right? It’s about taking a breather and giving yourself space to think. Shouta just wanted me here to make sure you’re okay and give you a hand, not to intimidate you or anything like that.”

His words ease the knot in your chest, and the tension in your shoulders melts away a little. Still, the thought of sitting in the corner, thinking things through under Hizashi’s watch, makes your face burn.

“Come on, babycakes,” he teases gently, taking your hands in his. “We’ll make this quick and painless. You do your time-out, I’ll brainstorm some killer affirmations for you, and then maybe we can watch a little something before bed. Sound like a deal?”

The room feels both too quiet and too loud, the hum of the air conditioning amplified in your ears as you fidget with the hem of your shirt. The embarrassment sits heavy in your chest, curling around your thoughts like smoke, but Hizashi’s easy grin cuts through it like sunlight breaking through clouds. His lighthearted nature softens the edges of your discomfort, even as the flush on your cheeks refuses to fade.

“Good,” he says with a playful wink, his voice warm and teasing. “Now let’s get this show on the road. Tell me, what are you gonna think about in your time-out?”

The question catches you off guard. You bite your lip and drop your gaze to your hands, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap. Shouta’s methods were always straightforward. He’d tell you exactly what to think about, have you repeat it back, and that was that. Being asked to decide for yourself feels unfamiliar, like stepping onto uneven ground.

“Um…” You hesitate, searching for the right words. “I’m gonna think about… how I should have called you?” The answer feels small, tentative, and your voice barely rises above a whisper.

Hizashi hums thoughtfully, tilting his head as if considering your response. “Hm, close! But not quite,” he says, his tone gentle but firm. His hands rest on his knees, his posture open and unthreatening, but his bright eyes hold a certain focus that tells you he’s taking this seriously. “I don’t want you to get stuck thinking about what went wrong. I want you to focus on what you can do better next time. Think constructive, baby. What’s a way you could handle things differently when you’re feeling low? What else can you come up with?”

The pressure to answer makes your heart race, and you glance around the room as if the walls might offer you an answer. The warmth of the living room, the cozy throw blanket draped over the couch, the faint smell of coffee lingering from earlier, feels at odds with the knot tightening in your stomach. You take a shaky breath, trying to focus.

“I could… think about ways I could’ve reached out sooner?” you say finally, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Hizashi’s face lights up with approval, and he leans forward slightly, his enthusiasm infectious. “That’s a good one, baby,” he says, his voice softening. “You’re getting there. And listen, you’re not alone in this, okay? I need you to really hear me on this; people love you. I love you. We’re here to help you out, no matter what, day or night.”

The sincerity in his voice is like a balm, soothing the raw edges of your self-doubt. You swallow hard, his words settling deep in your chest, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. Even as your thoughts swirl with guilt and hesitation, his presence feels steady, like an anchor keeping you from drifting too far.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling but resolute. You nod slowly, meeting his gaze for the first time since this started. “I’ll try.”

“That’s my girl,” he says, his smile soft and full of pride. For a moment, the weight on your shoulders feels just a little lighter.

Hizashi ruffles your hair with a fond smile before turning you gently by the shoulders, his hands warm and steady. “Alright, sweetheart,” he says softly, his voice both reassuring and firm. “Go think it over, and I’ll be right here when you’re ready. We’ll figure this out together.”

Your steps are slow as you move toward the corner of the living room, the weight of the moment settling over you like a heavy blanket. The familiar position feels strangely different with Hizashi there, the shift in dynamic making your heart race. Memories surface- Hizashi dropping something off at the apartment once while you were mid-time out, his gaze carefully avoiding you. Back then, he’d respected the unspoken boundary, probably at Shouta’s request, and you’d been grateful for the quiet discretion.

But this? This is different. This isn’t him passing through or pretending not to notice. He’s here, fully present, guiding you through this moment. You’d already come to terms with him knowing about your relationship with Shouta; it had been discussed openly, with your consent, and you trusted him completely. Still, the vulnerability of having him step into this role, even temporarily, makes your cheeks burn. Yet beneath the embarrassment, there’s a surprising sense of security.

You stop at the corner, place your hands behind your back, and lean forward until your nose gently touches the wall. The routine feels grounding, the familiarity of it giving you a strange kind of comfort. You take a deep breath, letting the quiet settle over you, broken only by the faint rustle of Hizashi shifting on the couch.

“Alright, perfect!” Hizashi’s voice breaks the silence, his tone playful but underscored with a steady firmness. “Keep that cute little nose right there until the timer goes off. If you need to back out, just say your safeword, okay? But other than that, no talking. Don’t interrupt me while I’m projecting good thoughts into that head of yours.”

A small, involuntary laugh escapes you, and you quickly bite your lip to stifle it. His energy is so different from Shouta’s, lighter, more playful, but no less earnest. You know he means every word, even if his delivery makes you want to smile. There’s a distinct sense of safety in the way he handles this moment, balancing humor with care, structure with warmth.

The initial embarrassment fades slightly as you focus on the steady rhythm of your breathing. Hizashi’s presence behind you, calm and unyielding, is a reminder that this isn’t really punishment. It’s a pause, a chance to reflect and reset. You trust him, just as you trust Shouta, and that trust anchors you now. Even in the quiet vulnerability of the corner, you know you’re not alone.

As you stand there, nose to the corner, your thoughts churn restlessly despite your efforts to calm them. Hizashi’s words echo faintly in your mind—focus on what you can do better next time. But it’s hard. The guilt gnaws at you, dragging your focus back to everything you feel you’ve done wrong. Why didn’t I reach out sooner? Why do I always let it get this bad?

You shift slightly, your shoulders tense as you try to redirect your thoughts. Hizashi wouldn’t want you stuck in this loop. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, and force your mind to pivot. Okay, maybe next time, I’ll text someone right away. Even if I feel stupid, I could at least try. But the moment you think it, the doubt creeps in. What if I’m just a burden? What if I bother them at the wrong time?

Frustration bubbles up, and you clench your hands at your sides, determined not to let the negativity win. Hizashi’s voice comes back to you, bright and steady: “People love you. I love you. We’re here to help you out, no matter what.” The words feel distant but steady, like a rope to grab onto in the storm. You latch onto them, even if they don’t fully sink in yet.

What if next time I… I write it out first? Maybe I could figure out what I’m feeling before it gets overwhelming. Or maybe I could reach out to someone before I even get to that point. The ideas are shaky and uncertain, but they’re something. You try to focus on them, repeating them in your head like a mantra, holding onto the hope that you can do better.

Gradually, your body starts to relax. The ache in your chest softens, replaced by a tentative clarity. The week’s weight—the guilt, the fear, the constant tightrope of holding yourself together—begins to loosen its grip. You realize, with a startling pang, how much easier this could’ve been if you’d let someone in earlier. It’s not a new revelation, but standing here, forced to confront it, the truth hits a little deeper.

The pearl of anxiety over Shouta’s safety still lingers, sitting in the back of your mind. It’s quieter now, though, like the volume has been turned down. For the first time in days, you feel like you can breathe around it again.

The sharp buzz of the timer jolts you, and you jump slightly, startled. You blink, disoriented, realizing how much time has passed. Your legs feel a little stiff, and you shift on your feet, grounding yourself. To your surprise, your eyes are dry. Normally, time outs leave you a mess of tears and raw emotion, but you’ve already had that release earlier with Shouta. Now, you feel steadier, like you’ve taken a step forward, however small.

You don’t move right away, waiting for Hizashi. You know he’d want you to wait for his cue, and besides, a part of you needs the moment to process. His voice cuts through the quiet, warm and familiar.

“Aw, good girl, com'ere,” he calls, his tone full of affection.

You turn, and the sight of him with his arms open wide melts the last bit of tension in you. You shuffle toward him, letting him pull you into a tight, comforting hug. For a few moments, you just exist in the embrace, soaking up the warmth and care radiating from him. It anchors you, grounding you in a way that words can’t.

“You did so good, baby,” he murmurs, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “I’m proud of you.”

And for the first time in a long while, you start to feel proud of yourself too.

But then, the yawn that had been threatening to break free finally caught up with you, forcing your jaw open in an exaggerated stretch. The sound was loud in the quiet room, your exhaustion betraying you.

“Someone’s running on fumes,” Hizashi teased, his voice laced with amusement as he tilted his head. “Alright, superstar. Let’s knock out those lines, and then I’ll tuck you in so you can get the rest you need. Capiche?”

His lighthearted tone made you giggle, and with it came a sense of relief. That suffocating weight you’d been carrying for days felt a little lighter now, a little easier to manage. Even though your body still sagged with fatigue, your chest felt clearer, like you could finally take a full breath.

Hizashi’s grin softened as he reached out to gently cup your cheeks, giving them a playful squeeze. His touch was warm and grounding, somehow managed to settle your racing thoughts even further. It wasn’t just the contact, but the way he made you feel seen and cared for in such a simple gesture.

Without needing to say more, he guided you back to the table where your unfinished lines waited. You picked up the pen, but something had shifted. The task didn’t feel like a burden anymore. It felt manageable, almost comforting in its simplicity. Hizashi didn’t hover or rush you. He sat nearby, close enough that his presence kept you steady but far enough that you had the space to focus.

As you wrote, a realization began to settle in your chest. For the first time since Shouta had left, you felt okay. Not just okay even, but good. It wasn’t just about getting through the task; it was the knowledge that you didn’t have to do it alone. Hizashi had stepped in, seamlessly filling the gap, offering support without making you feel like a burden. His guidance wasn’t overbearing; it was steady, gentle, exactly what you needed.

You felt like you could handle things on your own now if you had to, but more importantly, you didn’t have to. That distinction was a quiet but powerful comfort. Someone had your back, even in Shouta’s absence.

As you finished the last line, you let out a small sigh, the words on the page feeling like a tangible victory. Hizashi gave a little cheer, clapping his hands softly in celebration.

“See? Told you you’d knock it out of the park,” he said, beaming at you.

You couldn’t help but smile back, your heart warming at his unshakeable enthusiasm. Hizashi was truly an amazing man, bright, compassionate, and endlessly understanding. You thought about how much he’d helped tonight, how he’d given you exactly what you needed without you even having to explain. Those thoughts swirled in your mind, filling you with gratitude and a quiet sense of awe. You knew you’d talk to Shouta about it when he got home, but for now, it wasn’t necessary.

For now, all you needed was to let yourself rest. The warmth of Hizashi’s presence was enough, his steady support wrapping around you like a blanket. You set the pen down, leaning back with a soft yawn as Hizashi moved to your side, ready to guide you to bed.

“Alright, let’s get you snuggled up,” he said softly, his teasing edge replaced with a gentler tone.

And for the first time in days, you let yourself lean into that care without hesitation, letting the weight of the world slip away as you breathed in the quiet comfort of knowing you were never truly alone.

[fire-lizard-ro]

Ohoho Sunday thoughts you say? >:D this is loosely based on the prior ask? But I was just thinking how Sunday would probably try (keyword try) to remain pure and abstain from s*x before marriage, yknow? But when he finally does have you as his own, all bets are off. Angel boi is horny and wants you :( in his mind: it’s pure and simple yet beautiful lovemaking between two souls :( and in my love deprived ass I would melt because I know he’d be big on giving and receiving praise fjgjgjgj even would enjoy the idea of extending the Family if you were down for it (whether or not you could, he enjoys the idea of it) ((also he likes control so))

And don’t get me staarttteddd on his sweet aftercare and pillow talk D: oml you’d quite literally be on cloud nine!! He is too tho :) and he cannot help himself from just being so sweet and genuine orz

ohhHHHHH- Y e s I like this quite a bit. Need this to take a break from the angst I’ve been cookin up with a certain someone (you know who you are OTL).

Fair warning y’all are gonna end up seeing me write a fic about him that is blatantly blasphemous with religious themes (pretends like I’m not already working on one like that with Argenti).

Anyways- Back to this.

Thank you so much for the ask~ I love Sunday so much. <333333

CW: possessive behavior, cumming inside, fluff!!! (crazy I know how very almost off brand of me-), maybe some blasphemous thoughts? (idk that they count with aeons but hey-), marking, breeding kink (he’s saying it regardless of whether you are able to have children or not bc regardless it’s h o t -), praise

Reader gender: gender neutral (I tried not to say anything that would be too telling about what sex the reader is so please read it as such! I don’t think I said anything that was like that-)

So going off the last ask, we’re going to assume that he likes you enough to feel great affection for you. Enough to want you. To feel his own carnal desires rear their head even before you’ve married. It manifests in his seemingly innocent yet wandering hands. A hand on your waist as he passes by you. His hands drifting dangerously low when you hug. Leaning in close to talk to you. Lips making their way down from your forehead to your cheek to the corner of your lips. The placement of his kiss making its way to your lips slowly with every goodbye kiss.

But at some point, he can’t really stop himself from at least using those pretty hands of his on you- Along with that silver tongue and sinful mouth. He’ll make you feel so incredibly good, plunging his long fingers into you and taking you into his mouth. He’s lick and suck at you and even slide his tongue inside you. Perhaps the taste of you would be enough to tide him over until you were properly his- Married to him. It would have to be enough because you deserved to have a perfect wedding and perfect wedding night.

But aeons that doesn’t stop him from pleasuring you with what he can before then in order to hopefully keep himself in line. Even as his cock aches with the need to have you, he’ll just hold you down and whisper sweet promises in your ear. Even if you beg him, he won’t. Just wait for him baby just a little longer-

But after the ceremony is over and the afterparty is done and the guests all leave-

Oh dear. You’re finally left alone with your hungry fian- husband. You’re finally left alone with your absolutely famished husband. And you’re on the menu.

It begins like how many of your other encounters of sexual nature begin.

Sweet kisses that make it seem like he wants to swallow you whole.  Gentle hands taking in the feel of you in his arms. Trailing kisses down your throat, eyes closed in ecstasy because you were finally his now. He can have you with no regrets. All that waiting was for this moment. When he could finally have you wholly. And that makes this moment in the warm light of the bedside lamp and the cooler shades of the moon all the sweeter.

Wetted fingers stretching you in preparation for something larger, taking their time in their task despite knowing you well by then. Because even if this was to get you ready to become one with him- He’s wants to draw as much pleasure from you as possible. This is a special night for the two of you. One he will cherish completely and one he wants to make perfect for you. His arm would be holding him up, cradled behind your head for you to lean on while he molds himself to your side. Even as you whine and roll your hips into the curl of his fingers inside you, pressing on that special spot inside you, he kisses your cheeks gently with soothing words. “Good… very good, my love. Just a little more- I want you to finish on my fingers first. Can you do that for me, my sweet? I know you can-”

Just as he gives you your first orgasm of the night, he takes your lips once more while gently coaxing your through the waves of pleasure. He’s so soft, guiding you through the dance even while your mind goes blank for a bit as he watches your expression. “That’s it. I’ve got you.”

It’s then that he kisses you almost chastely before beginning his journey down your body to have his prize. The prize being whatever he’s managed to pull from you. He’d lick it from your body in broad strokes as though he were tasting honey dribbled over your form, caressing your every curve as he went.

Sunday would dribble lube over himself, a hand slathering the viscous substance over his cock in pumping motions. It was almost erotic watching him. The way he'd squeeze just a little at the top and you would watch his hardness twitch and drool between his fingers. But when you look up, the angelic man would only be looking at you. Gazing lovingly- longingly at you.

That's how it always was. Ever since meeting, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off you. You were simply radiant to him. Unlike anything or anyone else he'd ever seen.

Leaning over you to settle himself between your legs, Sunday would give you another kiss before asking if you were ready. While waiting for your answer, he'd go back to nip and lick at your neck. He wanted to mark you for all to see- You were his. His lover, his spouse, his soulmate. His. No one else's. He would love and care for you in every way, he'd think to himself.

And no- Don't just nod at him. "I need to hear you say it, dove. Please? For me, my dear?" Once you'd given him your clear consent, he'd bring you into a deep kiss while lining himself up with your stretched out, wet entrance. He can't even bring himself to tease you a little. Though the thought crossed his mind, he knew he'd been waiting far too long for this.

Once he was in the proper place, he'd rest his forehead against yours, the two of you breathing in each other's air while he looks down at where the two of you would be connected, fingers drifting to fondle you in order to distract from any possible pain you may feel with a gentle hum.

As Sunday would finally push in, cockhead popping inside, he'd gasp against your lips with twitching hips he had to force still. "Are you alright, love?" Taking a moment for himself to regain his composure and steel himself, he'd hide away in the crook of your neck to breathe in your scent and feel your pulse beneath his soft lips. Once you were ready it would be but a slow rock of his hips, moving gently inside you, to eventually sheath himself completely inside. As he worked himself into your tightness, Sunday would whisper sweet words into your ears in a whisper, as though the words were only for the two of you despite no one else being around- The words would come in between kisses while he rubbed a hand up and down your side to comfort you, the hand occasionally straying to rub your sex or pluck at your nipples to distract you from the strain of this part of the night.

Once bottomed out, your ass resting in the cradle of his hips with his body covering yours, he would ask you if you're alright and give you time to adjust. It's all praises here, the man telling you just how good you are for him and saying that you're doing wonderfully. After some time passes and you rock your hips against his to test your comfort, a small moan would be startled out of him before it devolves into a chuckle. "Are you ready, my love?"

It'd start with hip just grinding into you, firm but slow and accompanied by a pleasured sigh from him. He'd hold back none of his sounds because he wanted you to know how good you made him feel. Then he'd pull out only just a bit before thrusting himself back in. At some point he had begun to properly fuck you, the push and pull like the rocking of a boat on a gentle sea. This was making love. And after angling his hips, he found your sweet spot he'd only ever touched with those pretty fingers of his.

It'd be a struggle to not lose himself in you. In your all-consuming presence and the pleasure you gave him- In the love you showed him as you reached up to bring him close with a whimper of his name. It was like hearing the gospel fall from your lips. And they might as well have been. For now you were his everything. His god, his true Harmony. Were you to say it, it would be so. And right now, you were telling him that it felt good and asking him to keep going. So, he would.

With teeth gently marking all the places he'd been, his darkened eyes would watch the way you arch your back and moan to the heavens (they were yours anyways). Sunday is something that knows how to hide its teeth and disguise itself in the form of a man. He was careful to dull his claws so he would not hurt you when he held you close. Careful to veil the violence that was part of him, showing in his eyes, when he was with you. But he was a beast who knew the taste of blood. And yet you, his pure and lovely dove, loved him and accepted him. You said he was a good man and that you loved him. You were his truth. So, it must be so.

He wanted to claim you so wholly that none could ever deny that you both belonged to one another. That none could mistake that you were his deity and him your humble and devout servant who worshiped you here in the temple of your bed, giving you his offerings in pleasure, loyalty, and love. That brought another idea to mind of just how he could claim you and show you his deepest love.

"I want to breed you, my love. To carry on the family and mark you inside with my cum. Would that be alright? Do you want that as well, dove?"

He would speed up now, thinking about how he could have a family with you. How lovely you would look with a child tottering around behind you. He would make it happen no matter what so long as you wanted it as well. When you agree, he'd smile so wide his face hurt and shower you with kisses. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, my love my heart my everything-"

He can hardly fathom how he'd lived without you before.

Touching and kissing you all over he drove the two of you to your peak, the both of you moaning and whining against each other's lips as you kissed through the high. His hips continued to rock into yours to prolong the waves of pleasure that washed over you before slowing to a stop when you both became overstimulated.

"Thank you, love. You did so well- So very good for me. I love you so much," he'd praise and declare between kisses that he planted all over- Everywhere he could reach while wrapped up in your arms and holding you so close you wondered if the two of you could fuse together. "I love you, too," you'd mumble against his lips as he came back to them for a proper kiss. The chaste peck turning into a sensuous slide of lips, unhurried and full of undeniable love.

Even when he withdrew from your now cum-filled hole and began to clean you up, he would praise you and ask you how you felt while pressing kisses every place he touched. Once everything was done and he'd had you drink water, he'd lay down and pull you to lay on his chest. While stroking your back and pressing a kiss to your hair, he'd bid you goodnight and say yet another "I love you" before quietly humming to help you drift asleep.

Hopefully that was to your liking~ I had fun writing it! Thank you for the idea and for letting me write more about Sunday! <333

Feel free to send in another request if you want, hehe.

[neocitycafe]

Home After the Holidays (Mark)

♡ genre: hot cocoa - fluff, sweet and steamy hehe; a bit smutty with too many thoughts; i guess "new year’s time pensive cheese" is a theme for me (here’s haechan’s version from last year) ✎ words: 2.1k ✓ summary/notes: busy idol husband Mark finally returns home :’) and you’ve missed each other. a trope that i love lots. @d-nghy-ck to bronwyn, here’s a slice of pensive cheese(cake), especially for you! this cafe would probably not be here if not for this first customer who came by and said hi! wishing you all the love in the world~

──────── °∘❉∘° ────────

It’s that awkward time in late January when you’re not sure whether it’s still socially appropriate to include “Happy New Year” in your greetings. Mark had told you not to come to the airport. The weather was frigid all week and it’d be way past midnight by the time he got out of customs, and then there was the long cab ride home.

But he missed you. 

Closing the front door gently, he looks down to find his old lace-ups where he usually left them, as if he were home this whole time. Your favorite pair is set neatly next to his, and a smaller set of shoes next to those. Ones with velcro and lights that he bought a couple months back, but it felt much longer ago so quickly. You’d replaced the original laces with neon green ones, and all of Mark’s teammates cooed at how cute that was. 

The lights are dimmed and Mark finds you on the couch in a pile of blankets, where you cozied up while waiting. His heart suddenly aches thinking of you with only a little cup of chamomile tea to warm yourself and get to bed. 

He had been so busy working lately, loving what he did, creating music, making crazy new connections, show after show, press conferences, collaborations. Had he done anything for you lately? His mind races.

From where you’d dozed off, you find Mark frozen by the door. After years of knowing him, you could see his raised brows and the running thoughts behind them. His lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes shifting to the side meant self-doubt. You want to erase those worries and pour love into all the spaces where he thought he was not enough. 

“I wanted to get you flowers.” His voice cracks and you get up to close the distance between you.

“Oh Mark... I have you now.” The cold from outside has clung on to his coat, but you ignore it and wrap your arms around him more tightly. “It’s the middle of the night, silly. I don’t need flowers.”

You feel him shake his head against you, “And I wanted to be home for the holidays,” he says with a bit of a whine. 

“You’re here now.”

Looking into his eyes, you brush the hair away from his forehead and peck him on the nose. The end of the year meant holiday tour stops, special shows, concerts, and awards nights. The holidays meant the opposite of holidays for entertainers like Mark. It meant he couldn’t really be with family until afterwards. He follows you into the kitchen where you set your mug in the sink. 

“Did you miss me?” You turn when he wraps his arms around you from behind. 

You’re momentarily caught off guard by his boyish smile and a pang of longing wells up, an emptiness in your chest that had been there behind your smiles when he had video called. The answer is a thousand times yes, but you bite back the truth in favor of not worrying him. You shake your head playfully. “I don’t have to. I get to see your features in our son’s face every day.”

Mark breaks into a grin that you can’t help but match. “Is he asleep?”

“Yeah, but he sure begged to stay up! He can be a little headstrong sometimes. Like someone.” You give Mark a long look and he pouts in response. “But he finally fell asleep a couple of hours ago.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being my home.”

“You’re sappy, Mark Lee.” Nonetheless, you’re more than willing when he tilts your head for a deeper kiss. He runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them to let him taste you. A familiar heat stirs in your belly, and you reach your hands up to tangle them in his hair and pull him closer. He groans into your mouth and presses you back into the kitchen counter. From this position, he places pressure where your bodies are connected, where you want it. He rocks against you once, twice, slowly, fluidly, and you pull him even closer. 

Mark’s hands knock into the stacked pots and pans behind you on the drying rack, and you’re grateful for your husband’s quick reflexes. He steadies a pan, preventing what would’ve been a huge clatter. You both freeze for a moment. 

“Easy, tiger,” you tease while throwing him a wink. “Or baby lion or cheetah or whatever small big cat you are.” 

He responds with a playful growl that is both adorable and sexy, his nose scrunching up. 

A delicious thrill runs through you as his gaze locks on you again. Knocking your legs apart and then lifting you onto the counter, Mark reminds you of how he wanted you everywhere when you were newlyweds. A tender bite between your neck and shoulder reminds you of how he wants you now. You make a mental note to call Jaemin for some babysitting this coming weekend, because you wouldn’t mind some more alone time like this. 

You tug on Mark’s hand and he knows what you mean. You slip off the counter and try not to trip over each other as you eagerly make your way to the bedroom. It’s a familiar but exhilarating path, like a choreography that your bodies move to automatically once the music starts playing.

When he finds a towel already laid out on the bed, he raises a seagull of a brow, and you can’t help but laugh. He teases, “Oooh, so you were prepared!”

You lean in to whisper in his ear, feeling cheeky and bold, “Well, my husband gets messy.”

The look in his eyes and how he kisses you next is the response you were hoping for. When you fall back into bed, it’s easy and slow. You take your time wriggling out of your clothes, and you laugh at his cute shimmy while pulling his jeans off. The both of you sigh in content when his body is above yours, skin to skin. 

Mark’s fingertips trail patterns along your sides, his left hand’s calluses from guitar playing are a little rough, but soothingly so. You map out the constellation connecting the mole on his neck, on his cheek, the tiny one on the corner of his mouth. He spends his time with his lips on your neck where you crave them, wet kisses with a slight bite that have you feeling hot all over and in want, and then you’re grateful they’re chasing paths over the crests and valleys of your body. 

Mark travels down until his face is settled between your thighs, his warm breath causing you to shiver in anticipation. He takes your hand and kisses your wrist, your palm, your fingertips, slowly and thoughtfully. He moves to do the same with your other hand. The love in his gaze staring up at you is too much for you to handle, so you close your eyes and lay your head back. And then he’s lacing your fingers together, holding your hands as his perfect mouth dives in eagerly. 

Mark isn’t shy about playing with your wetness and giving you what you crave. He laps at you with the intent of pushing you to the edge, like there’s nothing else he wants but for you to feel good, and you can’t help but arch up towards him. 

When he tires, he keeps stroking your clit with his fingers, keeping the contact consistent and insistent, and then switches back to working you with his tongue. He keeps going even when you cry out his name, your thighs close around his head, and your hips lift off the mattress as you succumb to the overwhelming pleasure.  

When he comes back up to face you, he’s surprised to find the tears falling down your cheeks and into your hair. You don’t notice it yourself until he starts worrying. 

“You okay? Did I hurt you?” 

You shake your head. “No, that was amazing.”

He rolls to his side and pulls you into his chest carefully. His eyes search your face.

The words are tumbling out before you can stop them: “I missed you. Mark… I missed you.”

You finally let yourself go.

Going to your son’s first winter concert at his school alone. You’d even saved a seat for Mark, but his filming schedule got delayed that evening. Opening holiday presents with Mark’s parents at their home, without him there. Counting down to the new year by yourself while his team celebrated their album of the year win. How you never wanted to burden him. How you understood his career and wanted to be his steady support, and yet... “I missed you so much.”

“You know you can tell me that. I’m not afraid of how you feel.” He pauses to dry your tears with gentle hands and a kiss on your cheek. “I want to know. I want to love you better.” He holds you tighter, as if capturing every bit of the emotion pouring out of you. It’s like Mark knew the exact words you needed to hear. While being laid bare and vulnerable, you feel safe and known, and now, ever grateful that your relationship is one you are both committed to growing and working out together. “Let’s talk more in the morning after some rest, yeah?”

“Thank you, Mark.” You gaze up into his shining eyes. 

“For what?”

“For being home.”

“Look who’s being cheesy now,” he teases back. 

You tug on him beneath the covers in response and Mark lets out a surprised moan. 

“Mmm, in the morning’s okay too… ah, babe. I mean, do you still want to make love now?”

You nod against his chest and laugh at his insistence on calling it lovemaking rather than sex or anything else. “Do you?”

He nods too and the boyish grin you love so much is back. You push at his shoulders and move so you’re seated above him, your thighs settled over his.

I love you, I love you, I love you. He seems to say, and you feel it in your soul. 

When you sink down onto him, you fill his presence with your closeness, as he fills yours with his. And it’s like the time and space between you disappears. All you hear is Mark, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he loses himself in loving you, and you him. He aids with your rhythm with his hands holding your hips, and then makes the switch so you’re under him. 

There’s the softness of the sheets, his lips, your fingertips, the moonlight shining in, the sound of rustling and sighs pulled from deep within. The flush of his cheeks, your parted lips, the thrum of beating hearts, and later, the patterns slowing steadily into dreams together.

──────── °∘❉∘° ────────

You’re gladly surprised by the warmth in your bed when you wake up in the morning. Mark kicked off his side of the covers in the middle of the night as usual, leaving a mountain of blankets on top of you, so you pull them up to cover his bare chest. You probably should have showered after last night, but it was too comfortable being cuddled up. Mark’s discarded shirt is closest, so you pull it on, mind reveling in everything for a moment: his scent, his return, his closeness, your shared love. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the bedroom door swinging open. Little hands, messy morning bed head, and eyes shining as they peer in. (You’d have to remind your son about knocking on the door again.)

He’s quick to spot the lump next to you under the blankets. “Dada!”

You smile and hold a finger to your lips. 

“Mm-hmm, yes dear, come here.” You sit up better and he clambers into your lap. “Shhh. He’s sleeping.”

His eyes are wide and he whispers rather loudly, “He’s snoring.” You cast a wistful gaze over the relaxed expression on Mark’s face, not knowing when the last time it was that he slept well. 

“Let’s let him sleep more.” You ready yourself to sneak out of bed. Your son was really getting too heavy to carry. He’s squirmy and ticklish, and of course he starts giggling almost immediately when you try to lift him, the sound bubbling out uncontrollably. Someone else you knew laughed just like that. You’re trying to get up quickly when you feel Mark’s arms wrap around you from behind. 

“Come back....”

The way he holds you tickles, and the added weight of your son makes you lose balance, so you fall back onto Mark’s chest, effectively making your family a little sandwich. Mark lets out a small grunt from the weight but he doesn’t really mind. His heart is as light as can be. His eyes are bright and his smile mischievous. He wriggles around and declares, “Love attack!!!”

There are lots of kisses and shared silliness, and you laugh until there are tears in the corners of your eyes, little crystals breathlessly kissed away too in the moment. 

—

"And at last, I open my arms wide again to give you warmth. I'll do anything to make it right. Those stars are shining on us. I'll cherish this moment, all of it, my baby. I’m gonna love you… Love doesn't come easy, girl, but loving you is easy.  Every day without you feels hollow. Because our memories refine even our imperfect moments into treasured times, I reflect, calling love a beauty."

[idkwhatever580]

Forever and always

Masterlist

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Prompt: Natasha says something that prompts you to/n to not want to do anymore pranks. Even though pranks are their life.

Warnings: slight angst? The d word (divorce) happy ending

A/N: I know I said I’d start on the team night thing and I’m working on it but I needed a break and I had inspo so here we are

Y/n’s pov

I am just lounging around when an idea pops into my head.

I always am pranking my wife. She is the main target for most if not all of my pranks.

Excepting the few times I decided to get her in on a prank with me for someone else. But that’s not the point.

The point is. She knew what she was getting into when she said I do.

I remember when she proposed and after it all calmed down I actually sat her down and asked her if she wanted this.

She said of course she wanted it so now she suffers the consequences.

But this prank idea is not what I usually go for with my ideal pranks.

Usually I go for a more sad prank or funny pranks.

But today I’m gonna do a turning her on and then leaving her high and dry prank.

She might be super mad at me for this but whatever. She can’t hate me forever right?

I get up and skip to our living room.

We bought a house relatively close to the compound. Far enough so that we have space, but close enough so that if we’re needed we can get there quickly.

We plan on moving further away and into the country when we get older.

Once I get to the living room I saunter in and get myself in character.

I almost giggle but I compose myself and walk over to Natasha who is reading.

She doesn’t like it when she is interrupted from her book so she definitely won’t like this. But she’ll be okay.

I sit next to her and say

“Baby”

She ignores me like I know she will. She can tell I’m in a playful mood and I just want to bother her so she doesn’t give in.

I usually give up and go away after a few tries but this time I have a plan.

“Natty”

I say in a cute voice.

Ignored again.

I smirk and pick up her book making sure to quickly slip the bookmark in so that she doesn’t lose her page. And I make sure to handle it carefully so that it doesn’t get hurt.

She looks up at me with a dirty look and I straddle her lap after setting the book down.

I hug her and she says

“Can I have my book back now?”

I smile into her neck and say

“Hmm no”

She groans and says

“I’m giving you cuddles. I can read and cuddle you at the same time cant I?”

I smirk and kiss her neck again and I start sucking a hickey and she starts to realize what I’m here for.

Her hands rest on my hips and they tighten their grip slightly and I lift my lips up to her ear.

I nibble her ear slightly before I take a breath and let out a barely noticeable moan.

This makes her grip tighten on my hips substantially and she says

“Baby. If you wanted to you could have just asked you know?”

I smile and pull away and say

“No I think I’m done.”

I abruptly hop off of her and grab her book putting it back into her hands.

“Here’s your book!”

She rolls her eyes and groans knowing I was messing with her.

“Really? All that just for you to stop?”

A cheeky grin falls upon my face as she glares at me.

Then all of a sudden she says the words I never thought would come out of her mouth.

“I want a divorce”

My blood ran cold. I stiffen my posture and clench my jaw in fear. Then I whimper out a small.

“What?”

I ask with a small scared voice. Natasha starts laughing and says

“I’m only joking honey of course I don’t want a divorce!”

I start to laugh with her but it’s fake

“Oh man! You got me there haha! Payback right?”

She smiles and nods her head but leaves it at that. She gets up to get a drink as I sit down on my part of the couch and I am left in silence to my own mind.

She was joking. But she sounded so serious. What if she’s just lying to me and she actually has been thinking of divorcing me? What if I keep doing my pranks and one day she just has enough and actually wants a divorce?

Nat breaks me out of my trance when she plops back down on the sofa with a cup of water and her book in hand.

“What’s up buttercup?”

I look at her and flash a small smile and say

“Nothing!”

She eyes me but goes back to her book and I say

“I’m sorry.”

She furrows her brows and sets down her book

“Sorry for what?”

“For the prank”

“Oh detka don’t apologize it was just harmless fun. I know you didn’t mean anything bad by it.”

I smile and nod my head as she finishes the episode.

I have to stop doing these pranks. She might actually leave me. That’s what I’ll do. I swear I will never do another prank on Natasha again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natasha’s pov

It’s been two weeks since y/n has pranked me and either she is planning something big and she is just buttering me up, or she is dying.

There’s not a universe where I cannot imagine my wife not pranking me.

Or anyone for that matter.

It’s like her thing. Her brand. She just pranks everyone.

And if she hasn’t pranked you then she doesn’t like you. Simple as that.

That’s how I know she loves me because I’m the main target of her schemes.

And that’s why I’m concerned. She hasn’t pranked me since that last one and I can’t fathom why.

I need to make sure she’s feeling herself

I get home from the compound and park my car in our garage.

I step into the house and say

“Detka I’m home!”

I hear heavy footsteps from her running down the stairs and when she gets to the bottom she launches herself into my arms to greet me.

“Woah there dorogoy! I was gone for two hours!”

I am laughing and she pulls away with a pout and says

“Two hours too long”

I smile and kiss her pout away. Then I say

“I have something to talk about with you baby.”

She tilts her head like a puppy and says

“What is it?”

I make her sit down and I say

“It’s about your pranks”

Her face goes white and I furrow my brows. Her eyes are darting all over the place and she’s becoming frantic.

I know she’s not trying to cover up a prank because she is good at hiding them even when confronted about it. So there is something deeper going on here.

“Detka? Are you alright?”

I seem to pull her out of her frantic trance when I place my hand on her shoulder and she just bursts out crying.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know you’d be so angry! I just thought it was harmless fun but I didn’t think you’d leave me! Please don’t leave me I need you! I love you!”

My eyes widen and I hold out my hands

“Woah woah woah baby. Nobody’s leaving anybody okay? What’s got you all in a mix here?”

She tries to calm herself down but she is still crying a bit and she says

“I thought you were gonna tell me you’re divorcing me because you got fed up with all of my shenanigans”

I furrow my eyebrows and I say

“What? I am doing the farthest thing from that okay baby? I love you entirely too much to leave you over something so trivial. How did you get that into your pretty little mind darling?”

She sniffles finally being able to stop her tears and says

“Last time I pranked you, you um said you wanted a divorce.”

I cut her off before she can finish and I say

“I was only kidding. You knew that right?”

She nods her head and says

“I know you were kidding about this time, but it got me thinking. What if one day you finally get fed up with all of my pranks and decide to actually leave me for real?”

I sigh and pull her into my arms. Then after a long hug I pull away and grab her face and say

“Look at me”

My voice is stern and she immediately looks into my eyes.

“Even if I could leave you. I wouldn’t. Because I don’t want to. And trust me. If I get fed up with your pranks one day, which I won’t because I love your pranks, then I’ll communicate that with you. M’kay? I’d ask you to stop messing around long before the idea of divorce could come to my mind.”

She nods her head and I continue.

“And let me tell you this. Your pranks mean more than the world to me. Wanna know why?”

Her head bobs up and down again meekly but I don’t let her eyes leave mine or I redirect them onto me

“Because. I notice everything. I notice that you only prank the people you love. And I see that I am the main target of your pranks. Meaning you love me the most. Right? So the shenanigans and reactions and pranks are all signs that you love me. And it honestly worried me when you stopped for two whole weeks because I thought that either you stopped loving me or you were like seriously sick. Which I thought the second one more because we love each other entirely too much for that. So I want you to keep pranking me and if it becomes a problem in the future, I’ll tell you. But I won’t leave you. Got it?”

She nods her head and I raise an eyebrow and say

“Got it?”

She nods and then says

“Got it”

I smile and peck her nose and then her forehead and then all over her face. And then I leave a long kiss on her lips. I smile and say our little thing.

“I’ll love you forever”

She says the second part

“I’ll like you for always”

Then we say the last part in unison

“As long as I live, my baby you’ll be”

She smiles and cuddles into me and I embrace her and smile to myself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The end!

A/n: I hope you guys liked it! I really needed a brain break and I thought this one would be short but clearly it is not. I love writing pranks. I love reading pranks. Live laugh pranks. 😭🤌

Taglist

@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346 @moistblobfish @justarandomreaderxoxo @lovelyy-moonlight @symp4nat

[softlee]

;Submission to Coquette - lee minho.

Copyright © 2024 softlee

Pairings: Lee Minho x Reader

Word Count: 7.3K

Genre: pwp (well maybe just a little plot), smut, fluff, established relationship, domestic relationship!AU

Synopsis: You take on the challenge of making your boyfriend "Coquette". Will you succeed? Minho only has so much patience when you request him to be submissive. So, ultimately trying to tie him up and use him might be his breaking point.

Warnings: Minho constrained in pink ribbon. Do I really need to add more? Grinding, Bondage via ribbon I suppose, squirting, light dirty talk, reader attempts to be dominant but really how far can that go with Minho? Oral (female and male receiving), and Minho shenanigans (minho just being minho).

Notes:  I was supposed to finish this at the beginning of the year when the coquette trend came out on Tiktok. This trend on TikTok IMMEDIATELY made me think of Minho, I just think this theme fits him perfectly. I mean? When I saw this picture on TikTok of this guy in ribbon my mind immediately went to Minho. I hope you guys enjoy it cause I know I did making it :) 

Here's a TikTok off the overall idea/theme of this fanfic: here

ENJOYYYYY :D

With the telling ding of Minho’s cellphone in his left pocket on his way home from work, he already had an inkling on who the sender was.

It was, as he suspected, a message from you—his girlfriend, his girl, his lover, his other half.

But to you? No, you were only his errand runner when it came to things you needed before he made his familiar trail back to your shared apartment. 

You: I know you don’t wanna go but can you pleaseeeeeeee get me some pink ribbon before you come home? :) [4:56 PM]

Minho lets out an agitated sigh before washing his hand over his disgruntled worn out face; A repercussion of his stressful day at the office. 

He waited for you to finish typing your thoughts because he knew you weren’t done.

You are his other half after all.

You: Please? It’s for you xox [4:57 PM]

“It’s for me?” He exaggeratedly stated in his mind while he skillfully dogged a piece of gum on the sidewalk before trudging forward more. 

He scoured every crevice of his mind to come up with the most plausible reasoning as to how himself and pink ribbon correlate in some way. 

After a few determined seconds of thinking, he came to the conclusion that there were none and therefore, there was no way in hell he was stopping at the store for pink ribbon of all things. It just wasn’t going to happen. Minho was stubborn and if he set his mind to something, it was going to stay that way. Forever. 

Minho isn’t one to be easily swayed. 

“I can’t believe you actually stopped to get the ribbon for me!” Minho is greeted at the door of your shared apartment with a love bomb attack. Arms and legs hurling towards him until they somehow get caught into his arms, you attached with them funny enough. 

You’re hugging him, and kissing him like this is the last moment you are together. Peppering his nose, forehead, and cheek with kisses before Minho becomes overstimulated by all the touching and he’s grunting in protest and faking a look of annoyance, face scrunching like he’s trying to get away from your assault of love. 

He’ll truly never admit it to you but this part of the day, almost like the day was mirroring itself every weekday was his favorite part; you meeting him at the door once you got the satisfying notification that your boyfriend was back home. 

Pecking him all over his face like you were some kind of bird.

He’ll never admit it. 

The bag with the ribbon of course fell onto the ground when you flung yourself onto him. 

Minho with his cat like hearing of course hears this, not even looking. 

“Look you probably messed the ribbon up by the way you violently threw yourself at me. It’s almost like you don’t even want it.“ He teases, feeling you slither your way out from the corner of his neck to fully make eye contact with him. The little smirk he has plastered all over his face is slyly gone once you're peering at him. 

“Of course I want it! I was just excited to see you! I haven’t seen you all day.“ You whine a little before Minho gives you a glaring stare, of course none other than to surprise you with a peck to the lips, softly letting you down onto the hardwood floor. 

You quickly swoop to floor level to retrieve the bag with your latest conquest, discarding the bag and holding the spool of pretty pink silk ribbon in your hands before you wiggle your eyebrows in what he would expect to be a playful way. 

“This.” You point at the ribbon, “is going on you.” You smile enthusiastically, pulling your boyfriend by the arm to walk him over to the couch.

He feigns annoyance, throwing his head back in an exaggerated way while making an ungodly noise. He looks like a little boy who is being dragged by his mother because he’s gotten in trouble. 

“Can I at least eat first? I'm tired and just got back from work.” Indirectly trying to crawl his way out of whatever the hell you were trying to do; Minho wasn’t going to let you win without a fight. That’s just how he’s always been. He’ll nag and nag some more, but since he loves you, he'll eventually give up.

Right?

“I promise if you do this for me right now, I’ll make you something yummy.” You traverse your eyes on his own, watching as you get no physical reaction out of him. 

He plops down onto the couch. 

You stand in front of him, both hands on your hips quicking scanning your brain to figure out what exactly you can make to get him to comply. 

Suddenly a light bulb switches on in your mind and you gleam, crawling into your boyfriend's lap, disregarding the ribbon on the side of the couch for right now. 

Throwing your hands around his neck, “How about ramen and kimchi? I think we still have some kimchi left over.” You swivel your head over to the direction of the refrigerator. In comparison, Minho refuses to acknowledge you on his lap, the dinner choices, and how you on his lap is suddenly clouding his judgment.

You turn back to face him. 

“I’ll make you some pork belly too?” Suddenly Minho is intrigued, giving you his full-facing attention before a little smirk takes over his face, unable to contain how good that sounds in reality. 

Suddenly intrigued by the music in the background he didn’t seem to hear at first, he looks at the TV behind you. 

“Were you just about to play Fortnite before I came in?” He randomly asks in the midst of you discussing dinner options. 

Brows twisted in confusion for a second, they return to their natural state when you remember that you were indeed about to play Fortnite. 

“Oh, yeah I was. The season is almost over and they had Poison Ivy in the Item Shop! I had to get her and play a couple of matches with my new skin!” You protest, feeling the warmth of your boyfriend’s arms slide around your waist, fastening you to his body. 

He displays a toothy grin at your comment. “You’re such a nerd.” Yet when he states this comment, you see nothing but love in his eyes. You smile as well, not about to let him get away with his words. 

“Well, you can’t be the one to talk! You also-”

“Fine, I’ll do it. Now hurry up before you change my mind.” He suddenly states, grasping the ribbon in his palm before he looks up to literally see you light up at the words. 

That’s all he had to say, you immediately withdrew yourself from the warmth of Minho’s lap, telling him to stay put while you go to collect a few necessary items to make your dreams come true. 

You come back in record time, three minutes; Minho watches the array of items engulfed in your arms as you make it back to the sofa of your living room, dropping the items onto the coffee table as if they were somehow heavy. 

“Alright,” You grab the black shirt from the assortment on the table, “Let’s put you into this shirt first.”

You turn the shirt inside out, showing him that it indeed wasn’t a plain black shirt like he thought. It was decorated with the words, ‘I love my girlfriend’ right where the top of his chest would be centered if he were to put it on. The word ‘love’ instead being a familiar red heart. 

He chuckles out of bewilderment, eyes turning into your favorite half moons. 

“When did you get this shirt for me?” He’s intrigued.

“I got it about a week ago in preparation for this exact moment!” You wink at him softly, getting closer to him sitting on the sofa.

“So you’ve been planning this huh?” His eyes are wide, trying to figure out exactly what your evil plans had in store for him. 

He tries to grab for the shirt so that he can put it on, but you bring it closer to yourself, shaking your head.

“You said you were tired right? I’ll put it on for you.” He throws his arms down, somehow not making a fuss about you doing this for him.

“Wowwwww,” you’re amazed, he’s glaring whilst he holds his arms up above his head, waiting for you to pull the shirt he’s been wearing all day, off. 

You reach for the ends of his shirt, pulling upwards, “You’re so obedient right now.” You tease, getting him out of his shirt before you reach for the one you’re exchanging it for. 

You’re now sitting down on his lap again, looking up at him while you get the shirt into formation so you can pull it over his head. He obviously didn’t like what you stated, his dark brown eyes beaming intensely into your own.

You look down quickly to run away from them, meeting direct eye contact with his bare chest. He was definitely getting more toned, the lines of his abs becoming more visible. 

Before you could let his naked upper body distract you, you decide to pull the shirt over his head, and watch as you pull each arm one by one into the short sleeves. 

His hair gets ruffled in the process, looking like he just woke up from a nice long nap.

“Cute.” You giggle at this, before you smooth his hair out, back to its familiar state before you’re taking him all in with the shirt now on, smiling again. 

Minho of course doesn’t like such comments, narrowing his eyes and trying to make himself more intimidating by giving you his signature gaze; eyebrows furrowed and lips in a tight line. 

It doesn’t work on you though, he just looks even cuter earning a hearty chuckle at your motion as you throw your head back. 

You turn around in his lap, eyeing the other items plastered on the table as well. You lose balance a little while doing this, so as Minho does with his quick reflexes, he wraps his arms around your waist.

“Next,” You grab an assortment of your most valuable plushies. “I’m gonna put these around you before we start.”

Minho’s eyes washes over your brightly colored plushies; Kuromi, Hello Kitty, and some other bunny looking creatures he’s forgotten the name’s of. Regardless, he watches you in fascination as you start to place each plushie, one by one onto the sides of him, in the corner where his left shoulder rests, and one remaining one (one of the bunnies) in between where you and Minho meet on his lap. 

He raises one eyebrow. 

“So, where does the ribbon come in with all of this?” He questions, your hands reaching behind you on the table once more to secure the scissors in your hands. 

You also obtain the ribbon that fell between the cracks of the couch cushions, before you gleam at him. “Right now actually. I’m going to make you coquette.”

You gleam.

“Coquette?” He’s so puzzled he manages another smirk, letting out a breathless chuckle. 

You hum in agreement, delicately brushing a hair that has decided to fall where Minho’s left eye lays, his eye twitching in the process.

“I saw this Tiktok trend where girls would tie their boyfriends up with ribbons, and put bows made of ribbon on them. I’ve been wanting to do the same to you in private…. and hopefully get some pictures out of it.” You gulp after saying the last sentence. You look down to see that Minho has now closed his eyes. He breathes exaggeratingly outwards, almost like he’s trying to compose himself. 

“So, you’re doing this because really you want to see me tied up and you want pictures of that?” You instantly turn red, quicking seeking cover into his neck to hide how shy you feel when you say, “Yeah, I think it’s hot. It’s one of the things I’ve always wanted to do to you.”

No matter how hard you sometimes tried to hide your motives Minho always saw right through them. He can read you like a book, and that’s truly why you always just plainly tell him what you’re doing before you do things. 

You slowly uncover yourself from the shelter of his neck, finally peering at him to discover he already is, “One of the things?”

Too embarrassed to even mention what else you’ve always wanted to do to him, you reposition the scissors and ribbon in your hands and start measuring how big you want the bows to be. “Hmmm, how many should I put on you?” You successfully dodge the remark as he crosses his arms, glaring at you and your lack of response.

You squint your eyes while looking over his figure, deciding mentally to place two bows on him while tying his arms up. 

You hold your left hand out like you're waiting for him to give you something. 

“Give me your arms so I can tie them up.” You demand. 

Intrigued, Minho does as you say. “How would you like me to place them?” 

Demonstrating, “Lay them flat out where the sides of my hips are.” The warmth of his touch suddenly surrounds your body once more, Minho covering all of your senses. His perfume still lingering from the reminisces he covered himself in this morning before heading to work, his magnetic gaze that was locked on you and your movements, his voice which suddenly woke you out of your Minho heightened trance, and as for taste….well you were already craving him in more ways than one since he was being like putty in your hands right now. 

His lenient mannerisms and compliancy this evening were working you up in all the right ways. 

“I’m waiting for you to tie me up?” His voice continues. It startles you in some way, never imagining you’d hear those words come out of your mouth. His brow ticks. 

“Oh…right.” You begin lacing the ribbon in a tying motion, starting just short of where his biceps start. 

Minho wasn’t one to be submissive. Everytime you guys engaged in sex, he always naturally was the one to take control. It was just in his nature and it was just in yours to be more submissive, complying to almost anything he proposed. And of course, you thoroughly enjoyed it. 

Although, after being together for about a year and two months, you were ready to try something new. Unbeknownst to Minho, you are actually a switch. Yet after the beginning of your relationship you retired that part of yourself naturally when it came to him, since he was very dominant. 

So when you found this trend, you got the sudden urge to try something new and spice up your sex life with your boyfriend. 

And it wasn’t like you guys were vanilla, but you usually stuck to the things that were not foreign to you as a couple. But, you were ready to step out of that comfort zone. 

And right now, it seems like Minho isn’t too opposed to such an idea. That gives you the confidence to continue.

You finish your makeshift confinements on your boyfriend’s arms by cutting and wrapping the ribbon in a bow before you admire your handiwork. 

You softly smile in satisfaction. 

“Alright, now I’ll make a few more bows and stick them to you in different areas.” You look back down at Minho’s arms, “Is it tight or can you easily get out of the ribbon?”

“I mean, I can’t really get out of it, but if I wanted to then yeah I could.” He answers vaguely before humming, agreeing with himself. 

You narrow your eyes, deciding to trust him. 

You make the two bows you plan to plant on him and then begin to place them. 

Taking one of them and putting them on his head, he just stares at you as you manage to securely place it on his black hair so it isn’t easy for it to fall off. Then lastly, you settle with putting the last ribbon in a peculiar spot. Right on his crotch. 

You press it in for good measure, causing Minho to simultaneously move his hands to grip your ass as he lifts his hips, somehow to chase the feeling of your hands ghosting over his dick. He clears his throat after showing a sign of weakness, looking away from you but not shying his hands away from your ass. 

He actually chooses to grip onto it harder.

You tilt your head in feigned curiosity and innocence. 

“You alright?” 

He seems dazed because he doesn’t answer you for a beat.

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m good. What made you choose to place it there?” He questions, now looking up and directly into your irises. 

You shrug, actually not having a particular reason. You just wanted to see how he would react.

You hum to yourself like you’re somewhat proud of your work.

“So coquette.” You drop this outlandish word again, Minho having enough of not understanding exactly what the hell it means.

“What? What does that even mean?”

“It just means you look pretty I guess. I don’t really know what it means either. It’s just a Tiktok trend.” You slowly start rubbing your hands over his shoulders, letting them fall downwards into his lap. You decide to unleash yourself of his hold by standing up quickly.

You search for your phone, grabbing it off the coffee table and positioning it in front of him to signal you want your photos like promised.

He doesn’t look pleased. 

“Give me a pretty smile!” You give an example of your own before you’re waiting for him to repeat the action. It goes by ignored, instead being met with a nonchalant gaze that screams “I’m being held hostage. Please help me.”

You frown. 

“Please smile. You’re not aligning with what your shirt says. Don’t you love me?” You whine. 

‘Oh, so you’re pulling that card huh.’ He thinks. 

He smirks. 

“Yeah, I heart you. Just like the shirt says.” He goes for the literal meaning of the shirt, wanting to visibly displease you.

You pout. 

“You’re so annoying.”

Finished with the photo torture time, you throw your phone on the other couch in fake irritability, turning to face him yet again while standing. 

You give him a glance over and then softly smile, picking up your arms to do away with your shirt first and then your pants. You were wearing just some comfortable clothing; An old ‘May the force be with you’ Stars Wars T-shirt paired with the Yoda printed sweatpants you frequented about once a week. It was nothing too fancy of course. What came as a surprise was what was under it.

In preparation for the evening, you wanted to dress up for your boyfriend. Specifically in lingerie. White lingerie.

Whenever you wanted to spice up your sex life, or suprise him, you always took extra care of yourself. This meant taking an “everything” shower, putting on perfume, doing your hair, as well as doing some light makeup. And your choices for lingerie sets always happened to be in the colors you thought that looked best on you; red, black, and sometimes your favorite nude set. 

About two weeks ago, Minho suggested that you try a lingerie set in white, as he thought you would also look sexy in that color as well. He liked the other sets, but he thought that color would really look good on you. You were a little hesitant at first, but his suggestion paired with a kiss on your forehead, his credit card, as well as the words “surprise me” were all you needed to go out of your comfort zone. 

And hell, it surely did surprise him. 

You slowly saunter up to him, getting right back into your claimed spot, his lap (throwing the bunny plushie somewhere else on the couch), and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Do you think this color fits me babe?” You rapidly bat your eyelashes, obviously fishing for compliments. Minho's annoyance from earlier, sleepiness, and hunger completely fades away. His mouth slowly parting in awe. 

“Of course it fits you, you look in anything. God.” He groans, trying to take you all in. 

It was a simple dainty set. A white ribbed corset top with shoulder straps as bows which you tie at the shoulder. There was a collage of cotton flowers joined at the middle of the top, a decorative touch to the already light and airy feel of the lingerie. The bottoms were plain panty underwear, the same cotton flowers in the middle of them as well. 

You looked so good. That’s what he thought to himself before he realized that he had to, no needed to touch you. Right now. 

Right as he does so, his body moving at will is obstructed by the familiar feel of the pink ribbon you had just adorned to his arms, securing him in place. 

“Fuck,” He whines, almost like he’s in pain, “And I can’t even fucking touch you right now?” With all the strength he can muster, he tries to pull outwards to break the ribbon, but he’s too slow. You already knew he’d try something like that, so you, in defense, hold his arms in place.

Suddenly feeling red, you look down.

“You can’t touch me or get out of this ribbon until I say so. You have to do as I say tonight.” Shy, you slowly look up at him again, noticing that his whole demeanor has changed since you’ve uttered those words. 

A light airy chuckle escapes him before he can even hide it.

“What, are you controlling me tonight? Gonna use me?” 

His teasing tone almost sounds like a challenge. He doesn’t think you can do it. Your confidence grows in opposition.

“Yeah, I’m gonna be the dominant one tonight.” You lean in, ghosting over his lips, “And you won’t cum until I say you can.”

You fully press your lips onto his, pulling him as close as you can by wrapping your arms around his neck again, getting a high off of you being the one to order him around tonight. 

It gave you a sense of confidence you’ve never felt when having sex with him, his light moan giving you the confirmation you need to kiss him with a little more fervor. 

You slowly begin to start your pace, your hips beginning to gyrate over the crotch of his black jeans. You feel him reach for you, for something, his hands attempting to latch over the bottom of your ass. 

You smack his hands away, pulling away from the kiss. He desperately chases. You stop your pace.

“You can’t touch me,” You echo again, “I can only touch you? Got it?” Your palms are covering his own, proving your point that he had to do as instructed or he wouldn’t be able to have you. Not in the way he wanted. He throws his head back, as that's the only disobedient way he can act out right now, his long strands of hair sheltering his eyes. 

“Fine, have your way with me. I’ll see how long it’ll truly last. You know you love it when I tell you what to do. When I tell you to fuck yourself on my cock. When I have you cum multiple times on my tongue before I even begin to fuck you. I may not be able to touch you, but I can say whatever I want to you and you’ll be begging me to touch you. ” He mutters, shifting his body deeper into the couch. 

His words send a shiver through your body, the remaining of it fading right into your core. Truly, he was right. You loved it when he touched you, it’s how you completely got off. Yet, somehow denying yourself the satisfaction of feeling his touch and edging yourself was making you wetter than you could even believe.

To you, this was foreplay, and getting the privilege of having Minho in this way was what you could only dream for. You couldn't imagine though, even in your dreams, how he would react to you taking control. That’s what led you to this moment, once again leaning back down to the crook of his neck, whispering. 

“It’s just something I’ve always dreamed of doing to you. It’s one of the things I’ve been wanting to do with you, to you. Now, let me fuck you my way.” You truthfully speak, setting your motion against the fabric of his pants again.

Your boyfriend stays silent, once before being able to stare daggers into your soul, now avoiding eye contact all together. He was clearly flustered. You could tell because he was starting to fill up the space in his pants, his length slowly hardening below you. 

“Awe babe, you’re already getting hard. Tell me how good it feels? Hmm?” You push your pelvis harder into his lap, wanting to get a reaction out of him. 

It’s quiet for a moment. Minho desperately tries not to moan to show the effect you have on him before he gains his composure enough to speak. 

“Tell you how good it feels? How about you stop this charade and explain why you’re already this fucking wet? I can literally feel it through my pants already.” He spits out through his breathing which is slowly getting shallower and shallower. His ears are red, this is how you could tell he was turned on, even if he wouldn't admit it. 

“Of course I’m wet, I have my-” You moan, “My boyfriend in a way I’ve always wanted”

You continue your rebellious movement of your hips against his hardened cock, gasping when it hits your clit in a harmonious way. You look down at your panties, expecting to see your arousal escaping from the thin layer of fabric that is holding you all together. 

To your dismay, there was no visible evidence that you were incredibly wet. But, because of Minho’s comment earlier, you decide to take two of your fingers and check, feeling the remnants of your arousal, making you groan. 

He watches you in suspicion, noticing the way your fingers were easily sliding over the laced cotton of your underwear. His mouth involuntarily opens in awe.

“Ugh, I’m so wet. I’m gonna use you to cum. You can’t take your eyes off of me, okay?” For good measure, you lightly tease your fingers that you just used to touch yourself over his soft lips, Minho taking no time to lick your wetness off your fingers before you lightly rest your hand under the left side of his chin, forcing him to watch you reach your high.

In reality, you didn’t even need to do this, he was going to observe regardless. 

You pick up your pace, grinding up and down and then swirling your hips on his as your moaning gets louder. Your other hand stabilizes yourself on his chest while you begin to melt into your high, the line blurring between where your pleasure starts, and where you end. 

Minho throbs below you, eagerly waiting for you to ride out your orgasm. 

You cum, staring directly into his eyes, rocking back and forth slower to balance out your pleasure. You sigh as you come back to your senses, your hand balling up into a fist to pull your boyfriend closer to you for an everlasting kiss. 

Minho moans into the kiss like he’s cum himself, but truthfully, it was because of the way you just used him to get yourself off. Since he couldn’t touch you, he was feeling very understimulated. He was burning for desire for you, its imminence in the way he still continuously pulses below in your lap as you finish kissing him.  

You get up from off of his lap and sit on your knees below him on the floor. 

“You’re awfully quiet now, what happened to your cockiness?” You smirk, grabbing an elastic band on the coffee table to collect your hair out of your face. 

Your boyfriend decides to stay mute, watching you do away with your hair as you begin to graze your hands up his thighs, your hands meeting at the buckle of his belt. 

You unclasp it, looking up at him to see what he’s doing to see that he’s admiring you contently. You look back at your task at hand, pulling at the belt as Minho simultaneously lifts his hips so you can remove it. 

Currently, you’re wondering why he is so quiet. Did he finally submit? Was he so stunned at your ability to dominate that he was okay with you having your way with him? Or was it because he was so turned on that he couldn’t speak, his flushed body a solid indicator. But his body always gets slightly red when you guys have sex, so that couldn’t be it. 

You don’t let these thoughts bother you anymore, you decide maybe it’s a combination of everything, becoming overconfident in the job that you were doing. You let this spur you on, pulling both his pants and underwear down at once to free his hard cock. He lifts the bottom part of his body, viewing the way you let both articles of clothing to collect at his ankles, not fully taking them off. 

You were too focused on what was in front of you, him rock hard. You grab at his length, eyeing him to notice that his breath hitches, your hands beginning an up and down motion. 

His hips follow the rise and fall of your delicate hands, his breath quickening. The scene placed in front of you was heating up your body. You’ve never seen him this pliant under your hand, so eager, so willing to follow or let you command or do whatever you wanted to him. You’re not even being touched, yet your breath follows in sync with him, steadily increasing. 

Noticing he’s still quiet, it starts to concern you. Trying to busy yourself to distract from his silence, you lock eyes with him once again, noting that he was peering at you before you even were. You softly simper, pushing your head down until you take him all in one go, now breaking eye contact to focus on sucking him. 

As you embark on bobbing your head over his throbbing length, multiple things happen at once. At the same time, you hear something snapping and a piece of clothing falling onto the floor. A split second after, you’re moaning over his length, not because it was bringing you pleasure, but because you were being pulled quickly off of his dick. Your eyes go wide once you realize what happened, it comes together when your back hits the arm of the couch with Minho on top of you. 

He broke free.

Your mouth is open in shock as his mischievous smile stares down at you. 

“Minh-” Calling his name, he managed while freeing himself, to collect the ribbon you had used on him. He was pulling your arms above your head as you were trying to get your sentence out.

Minho successfully traps you in your own game. Similar to him before, your hands were now tied with pink ribbon at the wrist, you bewildered at the whole situation. He changed the game. 

He softly pulls you down the couch a little so your arms are comfortable above your head. Then, he leans down to give you a quick soft kiss. 

“Got you.” He arrogantly declares, reaching his hand over the table in front of the couch to grab the scissors, so he could cut the endless length of the ribbon he had tied to your wrists. 

He places the scissors back onto the table.

“But I was supposed to be the dominant one tonight.” You pout. 

“And you did good babe, but you know you love it when I touch you,” He leans in to trail kisses down the corner of your neck, listening as he hears you groan, “and kiss you, “his hands start to graze your body before it gets to your pussy, cupping you between your legs, “and fucking you open with my tongue.” You let out an embarrassing loud moan, not being phased by it since Minho loved to hear you. 

His kisses, which stopped just before your covered breasts, continue their pace until he’s leaving a trail down your stomach, purposely skipping over your throbbing core to kiss the inside of your thighs. Your whole back arches off the couch, whining when you can’t push Minho’s head in the place you need him most. 

He chuckles. 

“Now you see how I felt when I couldn’t touch you hmm? It was killing me watching you grind on me when I couldn’t push your hips or when you took me all the way into your mouth and I couldn’t push your head down.” His kisses start getting closer to your pussy once more. 

He teases as if he’s about to kiss your core over the thin fabric of your underwear. Instead, he stops his mouth just before he reaches it, talking right into your heat. 

“It’s not fun is it? You better be glad I lasted as long as I did in that ribbon.” He explains, looking directly into your eyes. 

You throw a fit, your legs shaking on the sides of him in annoyance because he won’t touch you where you needed him. 

He lets you out of your misery finally as you are whining, the whining turning into a satisfied hum when he latches his touch onto the soaked cotton of your underwear. He groans when he tastes you on the material, taking his time to lap up the juices spilling out. 

“Touch me.” You cry, rolling your body towards his lips, wanting more. 

Minho ticks his brow and lets out an airy chuckle. “I am touching you babe.”

He finds you cute and decides to give in to your requests since he knew what you meant. 

He tugs at your underwear which is clinging to the sides of your hips, pulling them down your legs until they're out of the way, throwing them carelessly onto the floor somewhere. 

You ache in anticipation for him to mouth at you, watching him get back into position to give you what you desired most at this moment; his mouth fully on you. 

The moment his lips kiss softly at your clit, you begin to see stars. He proceeds to lick you straight after, your head throwing back in immense pleasure. 

“Fuck,” You groan, your eyes following your head and rolling back. 

“Tell me how you feel ___.” He chimes, watching as your body tenses below him. It turned him on to great heights to see you this fucked out, his hips rocking into the couch to relieve himself. 

“Good.” You manage to get out between shaky breaths, Minho sucking at your clit before he licks a long stripe across the span of your pussy, him humming into you in satisfaction. You feel the vibration of his groaning below you, adding to the pleasure and washing an intense feeling throughout your body. You were close, and you needed something to grip onto.

Normally, when you were about to cum from Minho eating you out, you had your hands clutching to the back of his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to your pussy. It helped you balance the unstable feeling that overcame your body whenever you were about to release. Now, since your hands were tied, you couldn’t brace yourself. You didn’t know what was about to happen with this knot in your stomach when you were about to release at any second. 

All you could do was announce it. 

“I-I’m about to cum. Minho, I can’t, I don’t know ho-” You lewdly rushed, your body beginning to shake in cosmic tension. 

Too busy with the objective of making you cum, he lifts his left arm out to successfully hold your hand, nonverbally letting you know that he has you and that you’re okay. 

The wave of your pleasure strikes down like a tide that is beginning to crash down onto the shore of a beach, strong yet beautiful. It collects into one singular emotion before it releases in one single motion, Minho lapping at your pussy as you let go. Your body spasms as your orgasm comes to its final end, a gush of remaining pleasure that wasn’t released at that one moment, now finally letting go. 

With your eyes closed, you try to collect your breathing before you hear your boyfriend louding moaning below you, grabbing your attention. You look down, eyes widening in shock. 

Minho’s face was completely wet, a few front pieces of his hair that frames his face damp as well. As you put two and two together, you drop your jaw in collective embarrassment surprise. 

You just squirted on your boyfriend’s face. 

Because of this stupid ribbon, you can’t even cover your face, having to watch him as his ears quickly become red again, the flushing slowly diffusing to his face. 

You physically can't talk right now, not when you just squirted all over his face. It could have been anywhere else, yet it had to be there the first time you squirt. You close your eyes, waiting for him to say something, anything to get rid of this terrible silence. 

Quickly, you feel him shuffle and he’s on top of you now, passionately kissing your lips. You slowly start to kiss him back and slowly open your eyes, feeling him grind his bare cock on your wet pussy. You groan before he detaches. 

He looks you dead in the eyes. 

“I literally had to stop myself from cumming after you just squirted all over my face. Fuck, that was the hottest shit I’ve ever seen in my life. You’re perfect.” He goes in to peck your lips once more before he squabbles off of you a bit to grab the scissors again, cutting away your restraints. 

Suddenly, you’re no longer embarrassed. Sharing the same soft loving smile he gives you as he cuts your ribbon off. 

He once more places the scissors safely back on the table before he brings his attention back to you, laying on top of you again. 

He searches your eyes. 

“Got one more orgasm in you? Let me make love to you.” He softly speaks, waiting for your approval. You nod, excited since you can actually grip his hair now and touch him. You’re sure he’s in pain now since he’s been hard for a while. He always makes sure you orgasm first before he does.

He starts by tugging at the left and right bows of your corset top which are keeping it on you. You arch your back, waiting for your boyfriend to unzip the corset so you’re free. He discards it onto the ground. Then he lowers himself and latches onto your left nipple, observing as you wilt in pleasure, you pressing his head down closer as he grips at your right breast with his other hand. 

He again grinds his pulsing cock into your center, humming into your tit. 

Realizing something, you softly push him off of you. He looks at you concerned. 

“My plushies!” You suddenly realized your near and dear plushies were probably getting squeezed on the couch under Minho’s legs. He quickly searches for them, pulling all three from under his weight and putting two of them on the side where your head was, while he remains holding one of them. 

“What?” You look at him bewildered like he doesn’t realize how important they are to you. Minho doesn’t understand, so trying to fix the problem, he covers the eyes of the one he’s holding, as if they aren’t supposed to see us naked. 

You laugh wholeheartedly, “You’re so weird,” You tease, “I just didn’t want them to get squished before we continued.” 

“Oh.” He states, like saving them was the most important thing in the world right now. 

Knowing he’s done with you right now because you stopped having sex with him to save your expensive plushies, you push him to sit on the couch below you while you sit on his lap. 

“Now, I’ll fuck you since my stuffed animals are unharmed.” You tease before you softly smirk.

You bring your hand to the middle of your bodies, aligning his cock to your entrance before you slowly sit directly on him, taking him all the way in.

He groans, swiftly holding onto your hips to help stabilize you as you bounce on top of you. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, now staring at him. 

“Now, admit that me being dominant does turn you on.” You playfully suggest, circling your hips on his lap as you continue your pace. You moan, leaning down to kiss his lips before you await his response. 

“Of course it turns me on, but-” He holds you harder at your hips. “I just like fucking you more.”

He lifts his hips off of the couch, and begins a ruthless upward pace into you, completely taking you off guard. You hold onto anything you can find, dumbfounded that Minho’s stamina can reach even higher heights.

You moan repeatedly, letting him pound into your pussy below you as you feel another orgasm approaching. You don’t even have to let him know you’re about to cum, he can feel it with the way you go silent, and the sudden tight grip you have around his cock that is also stringing him closer to his own release.

Minho starts to sweat, his stamina even putting a toll on himself. Thank god he and you were about to cum soon.

Your eyes begin to roll back, his pounding finally demolishing you from above him even though you were the one that had the power in this position. 

You cum without warning, legs squeezing as close as they can below you as you fall, laying your head into the corner of your boyfriend's neck, utterly spent. Minho keeps up his pace, signaling to himself that now that you’ve cum that he doesn’t have to hold back anymore. 

He slows his motion, instead replacing it with a hard lingering pounding into your pussy. He cums just like that, quick and with a loud grunt. He wraps his arms around your back, hugging you softly as he comes back down from his high. He finishes off by pecking your forehead with a soft “I love you” that he didn’t say earlier when you put the shirt on him. You wrap your arms around him in return and squeeze, letting him know you heard him.

After a few minutes of recovering, you leave the comfort of his neck, sitting up in his lap to look into his brown eyes. 

He smiles at you. You lift your hand to move the strands of hair in front of his eyes. 

Then suddenly, he’s chuckling, then full out laughing. 

Your eyebrows twist in confusion.

He speaks.

“You know…we just fucked to the Fortnite loading screen music this whole time?” Refusing to believe him, you listen closely to your surroundings, noticing some music.

Omg, it was the Fortnite loading music.

You throw your head back in a fit of giggles.

“Either way, I’ll be glad to make you squirt again if this is the kind of music that you're into, we can make a playlist.” He teasingly comments.

You playfully hit him softly before you’re covering your face in embarrassment, revisioning the whole encounter with the background music. 

This was my first ever fanfic on this account! Let me know what you think! :)

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All Rights Reserved.

[pricegouge]

Uhm, if we still doing kinks… apologetic noncon. When you’re crying and pinned under them while they’re saying “I’m sorry, please, I just can’t help it, I want you so much—“ and touching your clit saying “please don’t cry. I can make this good for you too, see?”

And when you’re about to be filled with the hottest, stickiest creampie of you’re like they’re like “just a little more— just hold on a little longer and I’ll be done, ok?” And kissing all over your face as if that makes them your lover, as if that makes it all better.

Or when they’re making up their own rules just to break them. Like “I’m just putting in the tip, okay? I just need to get this out of my system—“

And they said they’d leave you alone after, but how are they supposed to do that when you’re a crying, shaking, sticky mess?

-🦷

oughh the idea of someone wanting you so bad that they literally can't stop themselves will always work for me 😭 especially when they still have enough clarity to see they're own behavior a d acknowledged what they're doing. idk why but the two combined is lethal for me.

I know this kinda undermines the first part of what I just said but that also why certain flavors of fuck or die do it for me.