#i want to kiss the architect on the mouth

[ohwhatthefuck]

after seeing neil gaimans library i feel the need to share one of my favourite libraries i’ve ever been in which is Cornell’s Andrew Dickson Library because just look at it

[barnacles34]

Bells and Whistles (Professional Hazard pt. 1.1)

Karina x Male Reader

18+

It's three days after that beautiful night. Still in Rome.

The voicemail plays in the quiet of her bedroom. First: silence. Then a sharp intake of breath that makes your pulse jump. 

Your thumb hovers over the phone as her voice breaks into those familiar wet sounds that have been haunting you all afternoon.

'If you play that one more time—'

'Shh. This is art.'

She's burrowed in her fortress of quilts, only eyes visible over the edge. A paperback lies abandoned by her hip.

'Delete it.' But her voice has gone soft around the edges.

'Not a chance.' You take your time with your shoes. Let her watch the deliberate movements. 'This is better than your debut song—and you know how much I love that song.’'

'You're awful.' The quilt slips as she shifts. 'I was desperate.'

'Were you?' You tap the phone, find that specific moment where her voice catches. 'Tell me about desperate.'

Her sock-covered foot sneaks out, hooks behind your knee. Tugs. 'Twenty minutes for milk. Who takes twenty minutes for milk?'

'Someone wearing very expensive, very tight jeans.'

'Someone being cruel.'

You catch her ankle mid-retreat. The quilt falls away, reveals cotton shorts still damp from earlier. Your thumb finds the arch of her foot, presses. She makes that sound again—the one from the voicemail.

'Cruel?' Your fingers trace higher. 'I'm not the one sending pornographic voicemails in the middle of the day.'

'I didn't—' She breaks off as your hand slides up her calf.

'No?' You hit play again. Her recorded gasp fills the room. 'What would you call this then?'

She bites her knuckle. You replace it with your thumb, let her teeth graze the pad.

'That noise you made,' you murmur. 'Right at the end. Makes me feel invincible.'

'Yeah?' Her tongue darts out, tastes salt.

'Like I could do anything. Find Atlantis. Solve world peace.' You brush her temple with your lips. 'Handle two of you.'

She snorts, shoves at your chest. 'You can barely handle one.'

'Want to test that theory?'

The laughter dies in her throat as your palm finds her inner thigh. Heat blooms under cotton.

'Stay.' Her fingers twist in your shirt like anchors. 'I'll send more. A dozen. Two dozen.'

'Greedy girl.'

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. 'Your fault.'

When you kiss her, she melts like she's been waiting all day.

Her tongue maps the ridges of your teeth, memorizing territory she already knows by heart.

‘Cheater,’ she gasps when you pinch the clasp of her bra.

‘Architect.’

Her shorts fall. The quilt tangles around her hips. She arches when your mouth finds her neck. Whimpers when your teeth follow.

‘Still deleting it.’ She breathes.

‘Try.’

You hit playback again. Her moan swells—raw, unfiltered—as your fingers slide into her.

‘Fuck.’ Her head thrashes. ‘That’s—’

‘—Proof.’ You curl your fingers. ‘You’re my religion.’

She chokes on a laugh. A sob. Her hips stutter. You drink the sounds from her lips. Let her nails carve half-moons into your shoulders.

Later, when she’s boneless and blinking up at you, she traces your collarbone.

‘Twelve voicemails,’ she yawns.

‘Thirteen.’

‘Why thirteen?’

You press her palm to your chest. Let her feel the gallop. ‘One for every time I died at this very second.’

She stills.

Her teeth flash. Dangerous. Devoted. ‘Gladly.’

Your fingers move lazy. Slow. Dragging out every twitch, every choked gasp. She arches into your hand, sweat gluing her bangs to her temples.

‘Still… deleting it.’ She pants, hips circling.

‘Try harder.’ You crook your fingers. Watch her back bow.

Her moan syncs with the recording still playing softly nearby—a stereo echo of need. You drink the sound. Memorize the way her throat flutters.

It’s pulsing, it’s so wet and hot. Sucking in your fingers like quicksand.

‘You’re mean.’ She whines.

‘Mean?’ Your thumb swipes. ‘You begged for this. Remember?’

The voicemail crackles: “—can’t sleep, can’t think, just… please—”

You smirk. Kiss her inner thigh. Salt and jasmine. Her hips jerk.

‘No—wait—’ Her hand fists your hair. Doesn’t push. Doesn’t pull. Trembles.

You nuzzle the damp cotton. ‘Scared?’

‘Never.’

Her shorts peel away. You linger—inhale her, lips hovering. She whimpers.

You chuckle. ‘Even your pussy smells like jasmine.’

‘Please.’

The first lick is a tease. A glancing blow. She curses. The second? A vow.

You map her with your tongue—slow, reverent. Learn the rhythm that makes her thighs clamp your ears. The angle that steals her words. She’s wildfire in your mouth.

‘There—oh god, there—’

You double down. Fingers curl inside her. Thumb presses just so.

Her scream is raw. Beautiful. The quilt soaks. You don’t let up—suck gently as she shakes, drag your tongue through every pulse until she’s clawing the sheets.

Her juices quicken, a pungent musk of sex that’s just pure fucking sin—and you’re sucking it up like a thirsty dog.

Your tongue drags a slow circle around her clit—not touching it. Just tracing the swollen bud through her folds. She whines, thighs tensing.

‘Tease.’

‘Worshipper.’ you correct.

Her hips lift. You press her back down with a palm to her stomach. Feel the muscles flutter, feel the soft cream-like softness of her beautiful midriff.

First contact: a glancing lick. Just the tip of your tongue skating over her clit. She gasps. You catalog the sound—high, sharp, yours.

‘Again.’ She breathes.

You oblige. Slower this time. Let your tongue flatten, drag wet heat across her, bury your nose into her pelvis. Her fingers knot in the sheets.

‘Good?’

‘More.’

You hum. Vibration ripples through her. She jerks.

‘Easy,’ you murmur against her. ‘Let me learn you.’

Your thumbs part her folds. Expose her fully—glistening, flushed, pulse visible in the throb of her clit. You blow gently. Watch her clench, flesh constricting.

‘Cruel—’ A high moan escapes her.

‘Thorough.’

The first proper lick steals her voice. You start slow. Broad strokes from entrance to clit, savoring her tang. Her thighs quiver.

‘There,’ she hisses when your tongue flicks her clit. ‘God, there—’

You zero in. Flick. Flick. Steady rhythm. Her breath hitches.

‘Don’t stop—don’t—’

You switch tactics—suck gently. Her back arches.

‘Yes—like—ah—’

Her clit hardens under your tongue. You trace circles around it, avoiding direct contact. She sobs.

‘Please—’

You reward her: firm pressure, rapid flicks. Her hips stutter. You pin her down, red blooming around the hold you have over her stomach—relentless.

‘Close—I’m close—’

You slide two fingers inside. Curl. Her walls clamp.

‘Fuck—fuck—’

Her clit pulses under your tongue. You suck harder.

She shatters.

A broken scream. Hips grinding against your face. You ride her through it—tongue gentling, fingers stilling.

‘Too much—’

You kiss her inner thigh. Two more kisses along the outer lips. Taste salt. ‘Beautiful.’

She trembles. ‘Again.’

Her thighs tremble as she nudges you onto your back. The mattress dips under her weight. You reach to touch her face—always reaching—but she catches your wrist. Presses it to the pillow. 

Her grip isn’t firm. A request, not a demand.

‘Let me,’ she murmurs.

You nod.

Her lips start at your collarbone—a closed-mouth kiss that lingers. She exhales warm breath against the hollow of your throat. You swallow. She smiles against your skin.

Another kiss. Lower. The swell of your pectoral. The scar from that cat. Her tongue traces the jagged edge. You hiss.

The way her thick hair travels along your chest tickles. The soothing aroma of her shampoo almost paralyzing you.

Her teeth graze your nipple. Bite down just enough to make your hips jerk. The denim of your jeans rasps against her bare thighs.

‘Off,’ she says.

‘What’s the magic word?’

Her eyes flick up. Dark. Glossy with submission. ‘Please.’

You sit up to shuck your jeans. She pushes you back down. ‘Let me.’

Her fingers fumble with your belt. The leather slips. She growls—a sound you’ve only heard when she lost at Mario Kart the day before. You bite your cheek. Laughter threatens release.

‘Shut up.’

‘Didn’t say anything.’

The belt clatters to the floor. Your boxers follow. Cool air hits your cock. Her breath follows—warm, uneven.

‘Look at me,’ you say.

She does. Pupils blown. Lips parted. A string of saliva connects her tongue to her lower lip.

‘Beautiful,’ you murmur.

She flushes. Looks away.

Your thumb hooks her chin. ‘Eyes here, sweetheart.’

A whimper escapes her. She obeys.

The first lick is tentative. A kitten testing cream. Her tongue swipes the underside of your cock. Your abs clench in response.

‘Jimin—’

‘Shh.’

Her lips wrap the head. Suck gently. Your groan claws its way out. She moans in response—vibration traveling straight to your spine.

Fuck.

Her hand wraps your shaft. Strokes in time with her mouth. Too dry. Too rough. Perfection.

‘Condom?’ she mumbles around you, the slightest gap allowed for conversation.

‘Later.’

She hums. The sound liquefies your bones.

And she continues. Swollen lips wrapped around your length, tongue slightly pushing on the underside.

Her free hand drifts between her legs. You catch it.

‘Focus.’

‘Meanie.’

You guide her head back down. ‘Earn it.’

She takes you deeper. Smoldering eye contact as she inches closer to the hilt, whereupon her nose almost makes contact with your pelvic bone. Gags. Pulls off. Coughs.

Strings of thick spit follow her mouth as she wipes.

‘Okay?’

‘Perfect.’

She tries again. Slower. Breathing through her nose. Her throat opens. Takes you to the root this time. Tears spill.

You bite down on your lip.

Her nails dig into your thighs. Sting. Ground. 

She finds a rhythm—suck, release, swirl. Strings of spit travel down your length. Where her thumb massages your balls with the spit. Your vision blurs.

Amidst it all, she’s staring into you—daring you to force her down on your cock. Begging, even.

‘Close,’ you warn.

She pulls off. Strokes you fast. ‘Come.’

You arch. ‘Where?’

Her tongue darts out. Catches the first pearl of cum. ‘Everywhere.’

The orgasm rips through you. Strips you raw. You spill across her lips, her chin, the swell of her breasts. She licks her lips. Grins.

‘Good?’

‘Amazing.’

She crawls up your body. Fully swallowing the load, then pressing a light kiss on your cheek.

Her mouth lingers on your cheekbone—wet, warm. The kiss sticks when she pulls back. Milky streaks still glisten between her breasts. You thumb one. She shivers.

‘Messy,’ you murmur.

‘Yours.’

Her nipples graze your chest as she straddles you. Heat blooms where skin meets skin. You palm her ribs. Feel the rabbit-quick thrum beneath.

Her hips lift. Your cock nudges her entrance. Slick. Swollen. You hold still. Make her work for it.

‘Please.’ She breathes, sinking down.

Heat swallows you. Tight. Quivering. You bite your tongue. Blood blooms.

She moves like water—slow swirls, thighs trembling. Her breasts sway. You catch one. Lick the salt from its curve.

‘Look at me.’

She doesn’t. Eyes screwed shut. Hair plastered to her neck. Hot and heavy with arousal.

You pinch her nipple. Gentle. Cruel. ‘Look.’

She whimpers. Lashes lift. Pupils black as oil spills.

‘Good girl.’

She whimpers. Clenches. Your fingers dig into her hips.

‘Faster.’

‘Make me.’

You buck up. She gasps. Nails score your chest.

‘Cheat—’

Her rhythm fractures. Hips stuttering. You let her chase it—the sweet friction, the burn. Her moans pitch higher.

‘Close—I’m close—,’ she whimpers.

You still her hips. ‘Wait.’

She sobs. ‘Please—’

‘Say it.’

Your thumb finds her clit. Circles.

She breaks. ‘Yours. Always yours.’

You release her. Let her slam down. Take what she needs.

Her orgasm rips through both of you—convulsions, bitten-off cries. Her rhythmic roll of hips turns frenzied. You let her ride it. Milk every pulse. 

After all, you’re obsessed—crazy about her.

When she collapses, you roll her over. Press into the sweat-slick hollow of her back.

‘Again.’

She shakes her head. Weak.

You bite her shoulder. ‘Again.’

Her body opens. Always opens. You grip your cock along her swollen slit, the sticky wetness almost  drives you mad. Regardless, you fuck her slow this time. 

Deep. Dragging each thrust. Feeling how her pussy drags on your cock, slick wet sounds singing into your ears.

‘Feel it?’

She nods. Pillow muffling her whines.

Your hand slides under. Cups her breast. Squeezes.

You curl over her. Chest to heaving back. Lips to her ear.

​​Her lips linger at your ear—sticky with confession. You taste salt when she pulls away. The room smells of sex and the spilt vanilla candle she lit hours ago, wax pooling like liquid amber.

She softly guides your hand to her throat. Your thumb finds the pulse. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. A trapped bird.

"Harder," she whispers.

You tighten. Feel her swallow.

Her breasts press against your chest as she arches, nipples pebbling against your scars. The heat between her legs slicks your thigh.

"Inside.’

You flip her. Sheets snag her knees. She whines. You bite the sound from her lips.

Her hands fist the headboard. You press into her slow. Molten velvet. Her moan fractures.

‘Eyes.’

She obeys. Always obeys.

You move. Deliberate. Each thrust a psalm. Her breasts sway—heavy, flushed. You palm one. Squeeze. Milk-white skin blooms red.

‘More—’

‘Quiet.’

She bites her wrist. You replace it with your fingers.

‘Sing for me.’

Her cry splinters the air. You swallow it. Fuck her deeper.

The headboard knocks the wall. Syncopated. Her ankles lock at your waist. Pull. Beg.

‘Who?’ you demand.

‘Yours.’

‘Louder.’

‘Yours~!’

The word still ringing when you slam into her. No finesse. Piston hips. Her breasts slap your chest—heat and sweat and jasmine.

She chokes. Nails rake your back. ‘Too—’

‘Take it.’

Her legs lock. Ankles digging into your behind. You fuck her like proving a point. Jackhammer rhythm. Headboard cracks plaster.

Dust rains down as you drag her hips back, slam into her harder. No rhythm now—just ruin.

She chokes on a scream, face mashed into the quilt, ass raised like an offering.

Your grip bruises her waist, fingers denting flesh as you split her open again. Again. Again and again. 

You can feel your balls hit the wetness of her pussy, smacking wet sounds onto her slit.

‘Take it.’ You grind deeper, pelvis punishing her clit with each thrust. Her thighs quiver, slick with sweat and your earlier release. ‘Wanted me rough? Here.’

She sobs into the mattress, voice shredded. ‘T-too—’

‘You don’t get to.’ You fist her hair, yank her head back. Her spine bows, throat exposed. ‘You begged for this. Remember?’

A nod. A whimper.

You snarl, slamming home. The wet slap of skin-on-skin drowns her cries. Her nails claw the sheets, nearly ripping threads. You lean over her, teeth scoring her shoulder. 

Her scream cracks as you pin her wrists, pound into her like you’re exorcising ghosts.

The bed groans. Her breasts sway, nipples raw from your mouth. She’s so tight, clenching around your cock like she’s trying to keep you trapped inside.

‘Gonna break you,’ you rasp, thumb digging into her asshole.

She shrieks, back arching. ‘P-please—’

‘Please what?’

‘Ruin me—’

You do. Hips pistoning, sweat stinging the bite marks on her neck. You don’t stop—can’t stop—driving into her convulsions until your vision whites out.

She sobs. High. Broken. ‘There there there~!’

Your thumb finds her clit. Grind. Her scream lodges in your teeth.

‘Come.’

‘Can’t—can’t—’

You bite her shoulder. ‘Come.’

She shatters. Walls milking. Clenching. Begging without words.

You drill deeper. Tip hitting that spongy ache. Her eyes roll back.

‘Gonna fill you,’ you snarl.

‘Please please—’

One last thrust. Hilt-deep.

You rupture.

Whiteout. Earthquake hips. Flood her until your knees buckle.

She collapses into the fault line you’ve carved. Whimpers when you pull out. Spend drips down her thigh.

Her finger swipes it—all that cumulative spend coupled along her swollen cunt. Lets the slurry couple along her tongue.

‘I love how you taste.’

‘God. You’re too fucking perfect.’ You drop down onto her. Cuddling.

Moonlight spills through the curtains. She's tucked against you, all soft edges now.

'You okay?' Your fingers ghost over her shoulder.

'Mm.' A pause. 'Was it too much?'

'Never.'

'But I was...' She shifts slightly. 'I got carried away.'

'Hey.' You tilt her chin up. 'That's what I love about you.'

'What? Being a mess?'

'Being real.'

She burrows closer. 'Still. Sorry if I—'

'Don't you dare apologize.'

'But—'

'Want some water?'

'If you move, I'll write a very detailed exposé about you.'

'About what? My green tea addiction?'

'Chapter One: The Man Who Chose Hydration Over Cuddles.'

'Riveting.'

'Mm. I'll even include citations.'

Your fingers trace idle patterns on her arm. 'What's Chapter Two?'

'Our future kids being haunted by your tea collection.'

'Kids, huh?'

'Tiny humans who'll only drink iced americanos.'

'In winter? That's grounds for custody battle.'

She pinches your side. 'They'll be perfect.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. Little artists with their mom's smile and their dad's terrible sense of humor.'

'My humor is exquisite.'

'You'll teach them to be insufferable.'

'And you'll teach them to be beautiful.'

She props herself up. Hair mussed, eyes soft. 'Where should we live?'

'Somewhere quiet. With big windows.'

'And a garden?'

'For your flowers and my tea herbs.'

'Domestic.' She wrinkles her nose. 'I like it.'

You pull her closer. 'We'll need a library.'

'For bedtime stories?'

'And quiet mornings.'

'With a reading nook?'

'Big enough for three.'

'Four,' she corrects. 'Maybe five.'

'Ambitious.'

She kisses your jaw. 'Thought you could handle anything.'

'Try me.'

'Five kids. All girls. All with my stubbornness.'

'Terrifying.'

'But worth it.'

You thread fingers through her hair. 'Worth everything.'

'Even giving up your tea collection?'

'Now you're pushing it.'

She laughs, soft and real. 'I'll let you keep the fancy cups.'

'Generous.'

'I know.' She yawns. 'I'm a catch.'

'The biggest.'

Her fingers trail your chest. 'Hey.'

'Mm?'

'Think our kids will be tall?'

'With your genes? Doubtful.'

She bites your shoulder. 'I'm average height.'

'For a garden gnome.'

'For a normal person.’ She groans.

‘—Who has been crushed ever so slightly by a hydraulic press.’

‘Ugh.’ She falls back into the bed.

‘We need a shower.’

She huffs. ‘No, I need a shower.’

‘Hm?’

‘I know what you’re gonna do: act like it’s a shower then nail me for the next half-hour in there.’

‘Oh?’

‘Don’t oh me. My legs are still sore from the cumulative effects of the past 3 days’

'Fine.' You pull her closer. 'Five more minutes.'

'Five turns into fifty with you.'

'Can you blame me?'

She traces patterns on your chest. 'I have to be at the airport by six.'

'Skip it.'

'Right. I'll just tell my company I found something better to do.'

'Like?'

'Like getting ravished by a journalist with no self-control.'

'Sounds reasonable to me.'

Her laugh is soft. Sad. 'I can’t let go of this.'

'This?'

'You.' She props herself up. 'Your stupid jokes. Your hands. The way you look at me like I'm...'

Your fingers find her hair. 'How long?'

'A week. Maybe two.'

'I'll die.'

'Drama queen.'

'No, actually die. Waste away. They'll write articles: Local Writer Perishes From Karina Deficiency.'

She smacks your chest. 'Stop.'

'My last words will be "if only she'd stayed one more day."'

'I hate you.'

'You love me.'

'Yeah.' She kisses your jaw. 'That's the problem.'

She sits up suddenly. 'Wait. What if—'

'What if?'

'My apartment in Seoul has a separate entrance. Service elevator.' The words tumble out. 'Nobody uses it except staff. And I have this office, connected to my room—'

'Jimin.'

'—could set up a desk there. Get you one of those fancy writing chairs. And there's this cafe nearby, really private, the owner's super discrete—'

You prop yourself up. Watch her plan your smuggling with bright eyes.

'The security team changes rotation at 2AM.' She's drawing invisible blueprints on your chest. 'That's when we could—'

'Breathe, baby.'

'I'm serious.' Her fingers curl against your skin. 'I've thought about this. A lot. Like, embarrassingly a lot.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' She ducks her head. 'Have the whole thing mapped out in my head. When to sneak you in. Which staff to trust. Where to hide your toothbrush.'

'My toothbrush gets its own strategic planning?'

'Everything gets strategic planning.' She looks up. 'I'd make it work. I'd make it perfect.'

'Jimin.'

'I know it's crazy.' Her voice cracks. 'But I can't—the thought of not—'

You pull her down. Kiss her forehead, her temple, the corner of her mouth. 'Tell me more about this secret entrance.'

She breathes against your neck. 'Really?'

'Really. Though I should warn you—'

'What?'

'My toothbrush is high-maintenance. Needs its own security detail.'

She laughs, wet and relieved. 'I'm being pathetic.'

'You're being perfect.' Your thumb catches a tear. 'And I'm taking notes.'

'Yeah?'

'Mm yeah. Finally found my title: "How to Smuggle a Writer: A Professional Hazard."'

Jimin nuzzles into you further. Purring at this moment of peace.

2 Weeks Later

Dawn creeps through her expensive curtains. She's wrapped around you like a koala, skin on skin, taking up more space than her tiny frame should allow.

You try to slip away. Her arms tighten.

'No,' she mumbles against your chest.

'Tea.'

'Lies.'

'Green tea.'

'Worse lies.'

But she lets you go, rolling into the warm spot you leave behind. You pause at the door—she's barely covered by the sheet, hair a mess across your pillow. Perfect.

The kitchen gleams in morning light. That copper kettle she insisted on buying catches the sun—"Because proper tea needs proper tools," she'd declared, like your entire existence before her was barbaric.

She pads in almost-naked just as the water's heating, with your discarded shirt from yesterday.

'Cold?'

'Miss you already.'

'I'm right here.'

'Too far.' She hooks her chin over your shoulder, arms sliding around your waist. 'What blend?'

'The one you say you hate.'

'Mm. The grassy one?'

'Getting better at this.'

She hums against your skin. Already reaching for her cup—the blue ceramic one that somehow migrated from the hotel to her apartment.

First sip. Her eyes close.

'Well?'

'It’s okay.' She takes another sip. 'Bland. I guess.'

She grins wide as you turn around. Getting closer to you, inhaling the smell of your fresh t-shirt. 

'Noted.' You kiss her temple. 'Want the rest of mine too?'

'Yes.' A sleepy smile. 'But only because I love you.'

'Of course.' Your greatest triumph: her, here, stealing your tea and your heart. 'Only because of that.'

'Want breakfast?' She's already moving to the fridge.

'You're cooking?'

'Don't sound so scared.' She pulls out eggs, something that looks suspiciously gourmet. 'I've been practicing. Besides, I’m tired of eating the coal you call food, and the bacteria colony I call food.'

'Since when?'

'Since I decided to be domestic.' She hip-checks you away from the counter. 'Go sit. Let me work.'

You watch her move around the kitchen. Something's different. A nervousness in her hands, a flutter in her movements.

'Stop staring.'

She’s revelling in it, how she gets you dumb-struck every time you get a glance of her.

Too cute.

'Can't help it.'

She sets a plate in front of you. Simple breakfast. Eggs. Toast. But arranged with careful precision. Something white peeking out from under the toast.

'Fancy.' You reach for your fork.

'Wait.' Her fingers twist in your shirt. 'Look under.'

'Under the toast?'

She nods. Not breathing.

You lift the bread. There's a small note. Written as small as her hands would allow. 

‘Pregnant.’

The world stops.

'Jimin.'

'I know it's fast.' The words rush out. 'I know we just—but I've been feeling strange and the test was just sitting there in my bathroom for days and I finally—this morning while you were sleeping—'

You pull her into your lap.

'Say something.'

'When?'

'2 weeks, maybe? Remember that night after the bar?'

You remember. Of course you remember. A beautiful night.

'Are you...' Her voice small. 'Are you happy?'

You kiss her. Taste salt. Someone's crying. Maybe both of you.

'Ecstatic.' Your hand finds her stomach. Still flat. But now. But soon. 'Terrified.'

'Yeah?' She laughs through tears.

'Yeah.' You kiss her again. 'Best breakfast ever.'

'Even better than your tea?'

Instead of answering, you kiss her again.

What's tea anyway?

Fin

A/N: Goodness! They make a great couple. Hope you enjoyed!

[foldingfittedsheets]

While at breakfast today I was sharing with my beloved about a dream I’d had. In it, my beloved and I were going to a play of some kind. In the lobby they grabbed me and we started kissing.

But not kissing in a way anyone would ever want. Our dream selves sealed their mouths together and just waggled our tongues together nonstop, like how horny leeches or that one upsetting Mario character might kiss.

Except instead of being repulsive like it should have been, the dream informed me that it was impossibly arousing, the sexiest imaginable kissing and I was so horny about it I fully woke up.

When I told my wife about the dream they were laughing and suggested that maybe we needed to try it out. I declined.

Several hours later they joined me on the couch at home, hovering over me with a coy smile. They said, “I’m gonna make your dreams come true.”

As the meaning seeped slowly into my brain I looked at their increasingly mischievous face and suddenly reared back bellowing, “No!!”

They collapsed with laughter, protesting, “Most people want their dreams to come true! It might be amazing!”

I stood my ground. I will not be committing mouth crimes. My subconscious is the architect of some wonderful things. But some dreams are nightmares.

[plutoslastwords]

i honestly love these fics so much xx

i was hoping you could write about landos reactions to baby norris milestones, for example, first time crawling, first words, first steps etc.

milestones

lando norris x daughter!reader

summary: a collections of moments that made lando realise that his baby girl was getting bigger (spoiler alert, he doesn't take it well)

w/c: 2.9k

warnings: none

a/n: ...........hey. i'm sorry i may have been slightlyyyyyy mia (only 1 month....) school has been actually the death of me, but i'm on break now!!! (yay!!!!) so here's a longer one as my sincerest apologies xxx

~~~

Even when you were barely a day old, Lando could already tell that you were going to grow up too fast, that he was going to have to cherish every moment that he could whilst you were still with him. He is not ashamed to admit that he cried on your first birthday, the thought of his little girl getting bigger, getting one year closer to not needing him anymore was too much to handle. 

Therefore, milestones were a very big deal in the Norris household.

Crawling

It was around Christmas time when you first decided that you wanted to move around on your own, and figured out how to coordinate yourself to do just that. You were in Bristol, staying with Lando’s family for the holiday season meaning you were in one of your best moods, getting to spend so much time with your Nana and Grandad, and your aunts and uncle, all of whom spoiled you endlessly. 

As is typical for the Norris family, after lunch everyone had herded into the living room, sitting in front of the tv with big glass doors looking out onto the vast property to the side of the room. 

You were sitting on the floor, playing with some building blocks that you were making towers with. Lando was busy telling his family how you were going to be a future architect because, ‘look at her tower! Look how good she is!’, therefore he didn’t seem to notice when your attention moved away from the building blocks, more interested in something that you could see in the garden.

A couple deer had decided to take a trip into the Norris land, casually grazing on the grass. Having lived in Monaco for your entire (albeit not very long) life, you had never been exposed to such wildlife like this, you were infatuated. You try babbling to your daddy to come and help you and take you over to the strange creatures, but he is too busy bragging about you to listen. So you have to take matters into your own hands. 

Carefully moving one limb at a time, with the uttermost focus on reaching the wondrous animals, you begin to manage to propel yourself across the floor. Unfortunately you aren’t quite as graceful as you imagine, leading to you falling onto your front.

“Woah, baby, what’re we doing?” Lando immediately gets up, ready to come and scoop you up into his arms, protecting you from any possible danger, but his mom stops him. 

“She’s crawling!” She whisper-shouts, excitedly. Lando’s mouth opens, but no words come out. How have you grown so quickly? It was only yesterday that you were opening your eyes for the first time, it seemed, how were you already learning to crawl?

Not letting your little fall set you back from reaching the cool animals, you manage to drag yourself a few steps towards them, slightly clumsily, but you got the job done. Lando lets out a strangled sound from his throat.

Much to your disappointment, when you are nearly at the windows, the deer must hear something from deeper in the grounds, and run off, causing you to stop where you are and not move. You don’t have anywhere to go anymore.

Sensing that he would no longer be preventing you from achieving a milestone, Lando rushes over to you, scooping you up into his arms, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head.

“Oh, baby. What a big girl! Did you just crawl my darling? Yes you did! My smart, smart girl…” He coos, you don’t really understand, but he sounds happy, so you giggle at him. “My baby…” he mumbles, “You’re growing up so fast, hm? What’s daddy going to do…?”

He carries you back to where he was sitting on the sofa, keeping you in his arms on his lap as you continue to coo and babble. “Maybe I’ll just carry you for the rest of your life, hm? You can’t crawl if you’re in my arms…” he begins to consider, but quickly backs down when his mom swats his arm, then he just pouts. 

“Never want you to grow up, my love…” He murmurs into your little ear, kissing the top of your head sweetly.

Walking

Once you had started crawling it was hard to stop you. Lando often had to chase you around the house because you discovered the art of crawling under the table where he couldn’t reach you, giggling like crazy at his failed attempts to get you. You were a little menace, but he still adored you. 

However, he knew that the time would come that crawling wasn’t going to be enough for you anymore, he dreaded the day. He hated how big and self-sufficient you were becoming already, he couldn’t dare to think about what would happen when you could walk. Would you even ever want him to carry you anymore? He pushes it to the back of his mind, too upsetting to ponder.

Even though you were barely a year old, you were still more well-traveled than half of the human population. Lando refuses to leave you alone, even though his friends and family have offered to watch you countless times whilst he’s away for work, he would never accept. 

At present, you were in Ibiza with him, he was there with Max and Keegan for some much needed downtime after the chaotic first half of the season. You loved Ibiza, spending hours upon hours crawling around in the sand, building elaborate sand mounds castles whilst Lando chatted with his friends.

You soon discover, however, that the feeling of the sand on your hands is icky and gritty, getting in the way of holding your bucket and spade comfortably, but you can’t not get them sandy, because then how would you crawl around? It’s quite the dilemma.

You put all of your brain power into discovering a solution. Looking around you see a little girl, who’s a bit bigger than you, who’s moving around without her hands, like your daddy does! If she can do that, then surely you can, you think.  

Using your giant mound of sand as support, you manage to push yourself up onto your two feet, feeling much taller than you did a few seconds ago. Now comes the tricky part, but you’re sure that you can manage it. 

Carefully, you manoeuvre one leg into front of the rest of you, aiming to get further along the beach, to a pretty seashell that would make the perfect turret for your mound castle. You manage to take one step, getting ever so slightly closer, the beauty of the seashell pushing you on.

Another step, Lando is still none the wiser, engaged in a heated discussion about some video game with his friends. 

Another step, Max turns his head, like Lando he is always looking out for you, it’s his duties as a godfather after all. When he spots you he almost chokes on his beer, letting out an odd sound that causes both Lando and Keegan to look at him funny.

Another step, Max doesn’t say anything, just widens his eyes and points to where you are toddling over to the sea shell.

Another step, for a minute, Lando just sits there in silence, not knowing how to react, his baby is walking. This wasn’t meant to happen so soon, how are you already walking, he needed you to be his baby for longer, soon you were going to be independent and never need him anymore…

Another step, finally he speaks, “Oh my god…” he chokes out, Keegan and Max adorning similar slightly shocked expressions. 

After he’s decided that you’ve gone too far for his liking, he strides over to you, swiftly hurling you up into his arms, to which you respond with a whine, pointing at the shell that you so want to get.

“You want the shell, baby?” He asks quietly, still not quite ready to accept the fact that he just saw you walking for the first time.

You respond with an eager nod, and of course he walks over with you in his arms and picks up the shell, placing it into your outstretched hands.

“You walked, baby, didn’t you… such a big girl…” he murmurs into your hair as you play with the pretty shell, “God you’re growing up way too fast…”

Talking

You learning to walk doesn’t get any easier for Lando, he winces everytime you manage to take a few more steps, and eventually just has to accept it when you’re charging around the apartment on a daily basis. 

In some ways, even though you don’t need him to carry you around as much anymore, he quite enjoys the fact that you know how to walk, it gives you more of a sense of character (if that was possible), more of a chance to express what you want, as you could just simply walk over to it. 

It is very rare that you and Lando get to have a quiet weekend to yourselves. Normally, he’s either at a race, or has other commitments with Quadrant and such that mean that you’re not at home in Monaco. 

On this occasion, one of the members of Quadrant had gotten sick just before filming was meant to take place, so it had been postponed for a couple weeks, meaning that Lando got to have a quiet weekend at home with his favourite person in the world. 

Before you were born Lando has to admit that he wasn’t the most experienced or talented chef, often relying on his pre prepped meals from his trainer, or takeaways. But since you were born he has taken it upon himself to learn how to cook, so that you weren’t eating the same two meals for the entirety of your childhood. 

Currently, he was in the kitchen, cooking your favourite, pasta bolognese. You were in the living room, immersed in watching something on the TV, some cartoon with a lot of animals, Lando had lost track of all of the names of your favourite shows. 

Deciding to spoil you, as he always does, Lando brings in the finished pasta to the living room, ready to let you watch your cartoons whilst you eat your lunch, as long as you didn’t make too much of a mess, which you would end up doing, of course, you’re a baby there will always be a mess.

You grin when you hear him coming with the pasta, but as soon as you see it you scowl, he has forgotten the most important ingredient, the cheese. 

Lando freezes at your scowl, he hates when you’re upset and he doesn’t even know how to fix it. “What’s wrong, my love? Is there something wrong with the pasta?”

You just scowl harder, all you want is the grated cheese on top of your pasta that always makes it taste so much better. You stare at him scowling for a minute until…

“Cheese.” 

He freezes, just stares at you with his mouth agape, completely lost for words. Did you just… talk???? His mind is going completely haywire, his tiny, baby, precious girl was talking?? You were meant to stay a baby forever! Talking was basically a telltale sign that you were growing up and about to leave home forever and he’d never see you again!

When he doesn’t respond to you, you scowl some more, repeating yourself louder in order to get your point across, “Cheese!”

Your adorably angry tone seems to be able to snap him out of his trance, “I- uhm- you want cheese, baby? You want daddy to get you some cheese?”

“Cheese, daddy!” 

He completely loses it there, his eyes immediately fill with tears when he hears you say ‘daddy’, scooping you up into his arms and holding you as close as possible, lathering sweet little kisses all over the top of your head.

“Oh, angel, daddy will get you some cheese, okay? Daddy will get you all of the cheese in the world, anything for you, okay?” He mumbles, bouncing you on his hip as he makes his way into the kitchen in order to grab the cheese that you were obviously so desperate for. 

“My big, big, girl…” he coos, “Can’t believe you’re already speaking, hm? Feels like yesterday when you were this big!” He uses his free hand to show you a tiny pinch, to which you giggle at his exaggerated tone.

As he grabs the cheese from the fridge he whispers to you once more, “Daddy loves you so much…”

“Lub you daddy…” and then the waterworks start all over again.

First day of school

You had become quite the chatterbox after you started speaking, picking up full sentences in only a couple of weeks, but nothing made you talk more than the idea of going to school.

There had been much discussion about where to send you for school. Lando’s parents were quite keen on you coming back to England for school, where you were from, as it would be much easier for you to make friends there. Lando, however, hated the idea of you being separate from him, you’d gone to nursery in Monaco, so the french language and people weren’t completely foreign to you, and he’d much rather you be at home with him.

In the end, after much back and forth you were enrolled in a primary school in Monaco, but in the words of your Grandmother, ‘as soon as she feels the slightest bit upset I’m flying her straight to England’.

The days leading up to your first day at school you were the opposite of upset, practically jumping off of the walls, making Lando chat to you about your new ‘big school’ every evening. You’d tired him of every question that there could possibly be about starting a new school.

“How many people in my class, daddy!?” ‘15 baby, lots of friends’

“How many subjects daddy?!” ‘Maths, French, English, maybe some history’

“Where are the toilets there daddy?” ‘Not sure yet, my darling, we’ll find out when we’re there, okay?’

And the list goes on. 

Lando was not sure if he was ready to send you off to school, he already struggled when you were at nursery, and that was only 3 days a week. You were still his baby, he couldn’t bear to be without you, not knowing whether you were safe or happy.

Finally, the dreaded day comes.

You are up at the crack of dawn, banging on Lando’s door, barging in even after he doesn’t answer, poking him repeatedly on the head.

“Daddy!! Up!! School today!!” you shout excitedly.

He groans in response, still half asleep, scooping you up and onto the bed next to him as he sits up and rubs his eyes.

“G’morning my angel… we’re up quite early today, hm?”

“School today daddy!!” You repeat, “We gotta get ready for school today!!”

As much as he disliked the idea of you going to school today, you were being so adorable about it that he couldn’t help but let a big grin grow on his face, god he loved you.

“Yeah?” He smiled, “Let’s get you ready then baby… you want me to do your hair?” Like cooking, after becoming a dad Lando had taken it upon himself to learn how to do hair, he was not going to let his daughter be left out because she was the only one without someone to do her hair in pretty styles.

“Bunchies daddy!!” Your word for pigtails. His heart swells, he thinks that pigtails make you look absolutely adorable, even more so than normal, if that’s possible. 

“Of course, my darling. Let’s get you into your uniform first though, hm?” He coos, lifting you into his lap in the bed, taming your messy hair slightly so that he can see your little face better. 

The two of your work in getting you ready for the day, you were being very meticulous about everything, down to the colour of the hair bows that he was using to tie your pigtails up with, but by the end you looked perfect.

Lando could’ve cried looking at you, standing there in your little blue uniform, with a backpack that’s way too big for you on your back, you were getting so big…

“My angel… you look perfect, you excited?”

“Yes!!!” you squeal, “‘M gonna make so so so many friends, daddy!!”

“Are you gonna miss daddy, baby? You’re not gonna see me all day…”

“It okay!! I’ll see you when I’m home!” He rolls his eyes at the fact that he’s more torn up about this than you, he’s meant to be the adult here!

“Cheeky girl…” He mumbles under his breath, but you don’t hear, too focused on making sure that your bag is packed just right.

He takes you to school himself, you babbling away in the backseat of the car about how excited you are for your first day, as much as he hates it, he can’t help but smile at your childish wonder. You’re not going to be saying that in a few years…

When you finally arrive at the school, you hug him tightly before leaving him.

“I love you, daddy…” You mumble into his chest

“Daddy loves you so so much my darling, you go and have a great day, okay?” Then he goes back to his car and sobs.

~~~

a/n: i hope that you enjoyed!!! i've got loads of wonderful requests from you guys that i promise that i'm working on!! might do a special easter event if i manage to get everything done!! ;)

[cuntyji]

you were sure, without a doubt, that math had been invented by the devil himself—or at the very least, some ancient sadist who found joy in human suffering. and who else but the sumerians, the architects of civilization, to introduce numbers and wedge them into the very fabric of reality?

which brought you here, sprawled out on gojo satoru’s bed, textbooks and loose papers abandoned at the edge of the mattress, your laptop open but wholly ignored. your eyes were squeezed shut, thighs trembling, and brain struggling—desperately—to process the numbers being traced against your cunt with his tongue.

“you’re fidgeting too much,” he mumbled against your folds, the vibration of his voice sending another pulse of heat up your spine. he sounded amused, always so amused, as if he weren’t the one making this impossible.

“oh, i wonder why,” you bit back, and your sharp exhale turned into a shaky whimper when his tongue swirled again—slow, purposeful.

"mm, attitude," he teased, pulling back slightly. his glasses—he had insisted on keeping them on, of course, just to be extra insufferable—slipped an inch down his nose. he peered over them, a lazy grin on his lips, cerulean eyes twinkling with mischief. "you should be thanking me, you know. most people have to suffer through studying, but me? i’m making it fun for you, baby."

fun, he says. as if this wasn’t absolute torture.

"fun for you," you gritted out, propping yourself up on your elbows to glare down at him. it was hard to look menacing when your legs were thrown over his shoulders, his breath hot against your dripping cunt.

“fun for both of us,” he corrected, and before you could retort, he dove back in, tongue flat against your clit before spelling out a number with slow, languid strokes.

your back arched. fuck. that was—okay, that was definitely a six. or maybe a nine? shit.

he pulled back again, looking far too pleased with himself. “c’mon, princess. what’s the answer?”

you struggled to keep your voice even, mind still hazy. “si—sixty-nine?”

he huffed a laugh, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh. “mmm, close, but not quite.”

"what do you mean not quite—"

before you could argue, he started again, this time tracing a much longer sequence of numbers, each movement sending sparks of pleasure through your core. your nails dug into the sheets, jaw slack. it took you a second—two, three?—before you realized: oh. he was giving you the answer to the long equation from earlier.

bastard.

“satoru—!”

“concentrate,” he chided, pausing just long enough to smirk up at you before resuming, each flick of his tongue slow, deliberate.

"i—i can't!"

"yes, you can," he murmured against you, tracing another swirl, another long stroke that had your toes curling. "you want that A, don’t you?"

your head lolled back, a moan slipping out before you could stop it. god, you hated him. hated how smug he was, how good he was.

"better get the answer right, or you're getting a big fat D," he chuckled, pressing a final, lingering kiss against your sensitive clit. "literally."

your breath hitched. okay. fine. if this was how he wanted to play, you were going to win this damn game.

you swallowed, chest heaving, and forced your scattered thoughts into something coherent. focus. deep breath. think of the numbers, not the way he was staring at you over the rim of his glasses, lips shiny with your slick, eyes full of challenge.

“eight…three…seven…five…” your voice wavered, but you kept going, pushing past the pleasure clawing at your mind.

gojo’s grin widened, and his grip on your thighs tightened just slightly. “atta girl.”

[aurorasgate]

what she likes

alhaitham x fem!reader x kaveh | 3.2k+ words

♡ collab fic written with my love @gojipink ♡

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, threesome but implied reader is in a relationship with alhaitham, dom!alhaitham, he man handles you both a lil<3 and is for sure in charge here, a little subby kaveh, clit spanking, fingering, oral (m!receiving), praise, the boys bicker, cream pie, cum eating

kaveh was utterly breathless at the sight of beauty in front of him; the kind of vision that left you burning and aching, one he couldn’t have even dreamed of but by the erratic beating of his heart and the hardness of his cock, he knew this was real. 

it was no secret that you and alhaitham were beautiful humans, even more so together, but like this, you were both ethereal. your bare skin against alhaithams, having even touched his own as you passed by him as if to remind him he was here to be a part of this too, that you wanted him here.

from his spot at the foot of the bed, kaveh watches with slow breaths as alhaitham guides you between his muscular legs, the two of you sharing a deep kiss before he pressed your back to his chest, letting the architect get a glimpse of your glistening pussy as you arched to reach alhaitham. 

he swallows, feeling his cock twitch, as alhaitham spreads your legs wide and you’re splayed out before him like a goddess. your already labored breaths and alhaitham heavy ones were like a melody, the rise and fall of your chest drew him in like the tide, the path of your tummy to between your legs a canvas he wanted to litter with his affections. 

and when alhaitham touched you, the well cared for fingers of the scribe coating in your essence after so little touching, one swipe over your folds from your little hole to your clit but not giving either nearly enough attention yet, kaveh swore-

a wet slap fills the room and as if he hadn’t seen it the first time, alhaitham slaps your clit again with four of his fingers, making you jerk against him and choke back a moan, your head falling back on his chest.

“hey!” kaveh exclaims, the sudden roughness with you breaking him from his dreamlike haze. “that’s mean!”

“it’s not mean,” alhaitham answers plainly.

“you don’t need to be so rough with her, you brute.”

“can you not see how much she’s enjoying this?” and is if to emphasize his point, he does it again, just a bit harder this time and even though you whimper alhaithams name, you spread your legs wider. “you wouldn’t be able to make her cum like this, so stop acting like you know what you're talking about.”

“i don’t need to do that,” he says the word like a curse, “to make her cum.”

“oh?”

before either of them can say more, your breathy voice quiets their bickering. 

“kaveh~” with a shaky hand you reach out for him and easily he follows.

you’re nearly completely pressed between the two of them as he leans in to kiss you soft and slow, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip before his tongue meets yours. warm calloused fingers brush against his temple, alhaitham tucking a lock of hair behind his ear as he kisses you.

the tender display is short lived when alhaitham opens his mouth, the smirk he wears, as he knows better, laced in every word. “i don’t think you’ll make her cum with your lips alone, senior.”

with a throaty grumble, kaveh pulls away from you panting, a string of silvia connecting your lips that breaks when he says breathlessly, “you’re so beautiful.”

kneeling between yours and alhaithams spread legs, with his cock leaking breads of precum, kaveh touches you like you’re the most delicate thing. the tips of his fingers parting your folds with attention and care before pressing against your clit and rubbing in circling motions that make you mewl softly.

your back arches off of alhaithams broad chest when kaveh slowly eases a finger into your tight hole, biting his bottom lip at this small feeling of you and by the time he’s knuckle deep, curling into you, he doesn’t know how long he’s going to last like this.

after a few pumps, he adds another and finds the perfect spot inside of you that has you seeing stars and you’re lifting your hips with every tender movement, every stroke inside of you that’s somehow not enough and too much, in a way that’s so different from alhaitham.

“see! she likes it soft too!” kaveh glares at alhaitham who was watching his ministrations over your shoulder, giving kaveh a chance even if he knew what the outcome would be. 

alhaitham scoffs, “you think i dont know what she likes? that i dont know what makes her cum the hardest? at the pace you're setting, she wont cum for another two hours.” he talks like he knows, like he’s actually calculated the time.

kaveh gives alhaitham a little hmph! before turning his head back towards you, his eyes immediately softening at the sight of your furrowed brows and half-lidded eyes staring back at him. his fingers gently massaging your walls while his thumb traces light barely-there circles on your clit, a dizzying contrast between the bruising pace alhaitham set just minutes before.

nuzzling his cheek against your inner thigh, he presses sweet kisses against your soft skin, 

“y/n, you like it like this too, right? he’s being too rough with you,” he pouts. “your pussy’s too perfect and pretty to be treated so harshly.” 

before you could even open your mouth to give a reassuring reply, alhaitham grips onto kaveh’s wrist tugging his fingers out of you making you gasp out at the sudden loss of contact. you swear you could cry at the loss of kavehs fingers but your heart races at the loss of patience alhaitham was displaying.

their bickering was cute, you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind. 

“alright, that's enough.” alhaitham snaps, moving from behind you. “get up, kaveh.” 

“wh-what no! that's not fair, i barely even started!” 

“you're not doing it right! go sit behind her, i’ll do it the way she wants, show you how to make her feel good.”

except that really could mean anything because alhaitham had made you feel good in countless ways. despite his protests to kavehs gentleness, alhaitham had loved you plenty like that too.

“she didn't even say anythi-ow!!”

alhaitham roughly grabs at the back of his neck, guiding him from between your legs and giving him a shove onto the bed near you. kaveh lets out a surprised muffled whimper when his face hits the pillow, unwillingly turned on even more due to alhaitham’s manhandling and the friction his aching dick receives when pressed into the plush covers. 

kaveh’s about to whip around and cuss alhaitham out when your fingers soothingly comb through his hair. turning his head towards you, his words die down in his throat as he takes in your effortless beauty. cheeks dusted pink, lips puffy and red, your hair slightly tousled- he swears you're the most lovely being he's ever laid eyes on.

you giggle at his staring, sitting up to brush your fingers against his cheek. “c’mere, kaveh,” you tenderly beckon.

he whines your name sweetly while crawling towards you, “he’s being mean, tell him! he’ll only listen to you.” 

you only laugh more while making room for him to sit behind you. his hands coming up to caress your arms as you situate yourself comfortably against his chest. you lean into him, sighing when he peppers soft kisses along your cheek, jaw, and shoulder. turning your head to face him with a hand cupping your jaw, he leans his forehead against yours. 

“just wanna be good for you, y/n…” he mumbles quietly, brushing the tip of his nose against yours in tender sweeps. “just wanna worship you, hm? you want that too, right? too beautiful to be thrown around by that brute.” emphasizing the word by turning his head slightly to glare at alhaitham who was settling himself between your parted legs, rolling his eyes at kaveh’s attempted insult.  

you only smile at their antics before reaching a hand up to tangle in kavehs hair, free from its normal clips, guiding his lips to press against yours. sighing into the kiss, kaveh’s hands gently slide up your sides before finding their way to your chest. kaveh lightly squeezes at the same time alhaitham slides two thick fingers inside you making you gasp out in surprise, your fingers in kavehs hair roughly tugging at silky strands.

letting out a choked moan against your lips, he can't help but press his leaky cock against your back searching for any kind of relief and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the scribe who looks as though he’s won something.

“c’mon, kaveh.” alhaitham warns, “you said you wanted to make her feel good, right? do something for her.”  

he does but not because alhaitham told him to. you look so perfect laying against him like this, holding the back of his skull as he kisses along your lips, cheeks and neck, savoring the taste of your sweet skin and squeezing handfuls of your breasts.

“‘haitham!” you suddenly cry out at the pace he starts to set with his digits stuffed inside of you and the thumb he has pressed to your clit to only add to this near drugging pleasure. 

you’re so wet the lewd sounds echo throughout the room and when kaveh pulls away from your supple skin, your whimpers of protest join the sound alhaitham is making with his fingers that pump in and out of you, pressing into your g spot like he’s memorized it’s place, and you know he has.

“please ‘haitham more..” you beg oh so sweetly.

“see? i told you,” alhaitham remarks, both of them watching you writhe around his fingers, your chest bouncing lightly with every movement, your hand in kavehs hair trembling and tugging tight every time he’s knuckles deep and giving you exactly what you asked for.

a mumble of “yeah.. but still,” falls from kavehs lips, wanting nothing more than to worship you with every gentle caress you deserved but unable to deny the way he feels watching you now, taking alhaitham so well.

ruby eyes roll to the back of kavehs head at the feeling of your hand in his hair at a partially hard tug when alhaitham turned relentless but when they come back to you, he’s in such awe watching your jaw slacken and your eyes flutter shut, your hands reaching for any part of him you could.

not taking his eyes off of you for another moment, kavehs hands travels down your arching sides and over your heaving breasts as your orgasm washes over you, gushing and throbbing around alhaithams fingers, rippling throughout your body and making you shake. kaveh didn’t think you could get any more beautiful but he had never seen you like this. 

you collapse against kavehs chest but he’s there to gently bring you down from your high. rubbing your arms and sides in soothing motions that made you melt while praises of good girl and did so well spilled from his lips in between wet kisses pressed down your neck, all the while alhaitham kneads the plush of your thighs, laying sweet kisses along your knees and calves.

you were basking in euphoric love, tingling with every kiss they gave you and heard the thumping of heart beats following after each other, not knowing which belonged to who. 

“okay, love,” alhaithams coos with one last kiss to your leg, “turn around, come on,” he pats your thigh signaling you to start moving, his other hand trying to help you turn around with ease.

“give her a second, you ass!” kaveh snaps at him, wrapping a protective arm around your shoulders to keep your still trembling figure in place. 

alhaitham rolls his eyes before giving your thigh a rougher smack, smirking at kaveh when you moan out.

kaveh turns his focus towards you, a warm hand caressing your face, always speaking to you so much softer than he did to alhaitham. “angel, don't listen to him. you wanna take a break?” 

his concern is so sweet it actually makes you laugh, breathless and happy, a sound that makes kaveh’s chest feel fuzzy and head a little dizzy. it affects alhaitham too, making his chest warm and his cock even harder, glad to know you’re enjoying yourself too.

“i’m okay, kaveh,” you try to sooth him with a kiss to his palm that still held your face. “i can handle him, i promise.” with a giggle, you hope he’ll believe you while beginning to twist around in his hold. 

“but-!” kaveh starts but is quickly silenced when you press your lips to his, slow and passionate. 

breaking the kiss, you whisper to him, like a secret shared just between the two of you, not meant for alhaitham to hear. “just follow his lead, kaveh. it'll feel so good when you do, i promise.” you kiss him again, your words melting into his lips. “let alhaitham take care of us, okay?” 

his cock involuntarily twitches at the thought of letting alhaitham have complete control over the situation. he wants to be defiant, wants to yell out no! but he can't help the way it makes his stomach twist in the most delicious way. 

and even if he didn’t want to voice it, he trusted you, trusted alhaitham. 

swallowing thickly, cheeks blushing furiously, a color that looked so pretty on him, kaveh gives you a small nod. 

behind you, alhaitham grabs at your hips leading you to shift further down on the bed and effortlessly you follow. he brings a palm to your cheek and turns your head to the side before capturing your lips in a dizzying kiss. sliding his tongue past your lips, he opens his eyes slightly to look down at kaveh to make sure he’s watching, all the while all you can focus on is alhaitham. 

the amber of his eyes seem to glow and kaveh’s hands tremble slightly as he balls the bedsheets up in his fist, biting his cheek to hold in a snarky remark or to steel himself to not flinch away at alhaitham’s condescending glance. 

taking a shaking breath in, kaveh starts to shift his weight to join the two of you until alhaitham speaks, breathing away from you but keeping you close to him, leaving you panting in his hold. “kaveh, stay.” 

im not a dog! kaveh wants to yell out but his body betrays him by reacting immediately and staying put. he huffs out a breath in frustration but his throbbing cock tells alhaitham everything he needs to know. 

he hadn’t expected kaveh to listen to him so easily but alhaitham was quite enjoying the fact that he had.

“good boy,” alhaitham viciously teases and kaveh can't help but bite his lip hard. trying to stop the whimper threatening to escape him, trying to ignore how his cock bounces from the strength of its twitches, precum pooling onto the sheets. 

with one last kiss, deep and full of tongue, alhaitham has you moving back to face kaveh and grabbing your hips with the totally normal strength of a ‘feeble scholar’, folding you over ass up so his hips are flush with yours and with one hand alhaitham grabs the base of his cock, guiding it up and down your sensitive pussy over and over again.

you take kaveh’s aching dick into your hands, pumping him slowly, mouth watering at the thought of having his pretty cock in your mouth. “see, isn't it better?” you tease and kaveh sighs, bringing his hands up to delicately move your hair out of your face. 

“i…im not answering that,” he grumbles, cheeks burning bright red but gods he can’t look away from you.

you giggle poking out your tongue to kitten lick at his swollen pink tip, kaveh drawing in a shuddering breath at the feeling of your warm breath and hot tongue on him.

“y-y/n, you really d-dont have to do th- mmph! w-wait! mmmh!”

kaveh’s hips buck and flinch, the stimulation all too much for his aching dick that hasn't been touched in what feels like hours, feeling harder than it ever had before tonight with both you and alhaitham here.

your sultry hums around his dick have him throwing his head back into the pillow, blonde hair cascading down the shoulders and over the plush pillows with a golden waterfall, relishing the way the vibrations mixed with your languid bobs, taking him into your mouth deep and deeper, have his head spinning. 

both of you are so enraptured by each other, your head only filled with the way kaveh’s cock feels so good dragging across your tongue and the way his hands are so gentle pulling back your hair you're nowhere near prepared for alhaitham to shove his heavy cock into your tight hole. the force of his thrust causing you to surge forward in surprise, taking kaveh all the way deep in your throat.

he yells out in shocked and ecstasy, hitting the back of your throat and feeling it contract around him.

“a-ah! mmph-! alhaitham,wait! f-fuck!!” kaveh chokes out struggling to stabilize you to keep you from repeatedly surging forward, swallowing his cock whole. 

“ ‘s fine,” alhaitham pants out, hips thrusting powerfully against you, his hands on your hips helping you fuck yourself back on him, silvery bangs sticking to his forehead but even through his messy hair he can see you both beneath him.

kaveh struggles to wrap his mind around the pace alhaitham’s set for all of you, deep and rough and fast than he can keep up with. tears dot his lashes as he tries to stop his fast coming orgasm at the feeling of your mouth taking him so perfectly, there’s no way he’ll last long like this.

“kaveh,” alhaitham said lowly, “don’t cum.” 

looking up at him in shock, gasping for air while your still deep throating him, little chokes and moans around his length that barely fit all the way in your throat but his eyes nearly cross at the feeling of alhaitham bullying his thick cock into your cervix and kaveh’s twitching length slides all the way back in your throat, the deepest you’d taken him. 

alhaitham feels your velvety walls tighten around his cock, squeezing him so tightly he had to force himself to hold back for just a little longer. 

“‘haitham-” kaveh grits out through clenched teeth, trying to listen regardless.

“not until she does,” alhaitham breaths out, his thrusts slowly going off rhythm and kaveh feels it too. “gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” alhaitham coos at you, his tone so different from the way his cock is thrusting in and out of your cunt.

as if you could answer with your mouth full of kaveh but he knew you were close and brought you over the edge of bliss, reaching between your legs to rub at your clit as he pounds into you and feels you clench and squeeze around his cock so tightly he could hardly breath as he spills into you.

kaveh follows right after, not meaning to cum down your throat without asking but he hadn’t a moment to pull away or stop himself when you gagged and sucked him so sweetly and he didn’t know whos orgasm he was feeling the most, his own generously being swallowed by your pretty mouth, your own throbbing in your throat around him, alhaithams heavy lidded eyes looking down at him as he took deep heaving breaths. 

gojiipink fics

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

[r1nstaaa]

Mingyu x fem!reader

MDNI!!! this ones for u, maya <3

masterlist

warnings: uh idk sex? raw sex yes. angst if u squint. smut mostly. childhood bsfs to lovers. happy ending bc im too soft sorry. it's my first time writing smth like this pls be nice

should mingyu feel ashamed? ashamed for thinking about how good those tiny hands of yours would feel around his thick cock, pumping him and stroking him while you’re on your knees looking up at him through those oh so innocent eyes of yours? should he feel ashamed for not focusing on a word you’ve been saying for the past 15 minutes, his eyes being glued only to your chest and lips?

it started when you were in high school. you and mingyu had been inseparable, almost as if your souls were created from the same one. he lived next door to you and you would go to his place every time you wanted to do something together. your mom treated him like her own son and his mother had practically accepted you as family.  you could never have imagined a life without him. and frankly, you’re not even sure if you’d want to.

it wasn’t until the day that mingyu broke the news to you that you realised it was time to let go. it was time to let go of all the big warm hugs, or the ‘bear hugs’ as your mingyu liked to call them. it was time to let go of all the cheek kisses, all the lingering gazes that you were both too scared to act on. you wished you could have said it. you wished you were brave enough. but you weren’t. and neither was he. 

he was leaving for korea in a week and there was nothing for you to do except let go of him.

you wished you could have gone about your life casually after his leave, but it would be a lie if you said you didn’t miss him everywhere. you missed him when you went to the restaurant where you bought him his favourite spicy ramen. you missed him at the park where he made you laugh so hard you almost choked on your soda. you missed the smile on his face every time you told him you hated him for making fun of you. the smile that made you wonder if the stars envied him for the way he could brighten up darkness so effortlessly.

it wasn’t until 6 years later that you finally caught a glimpse of him again. 

you were at the airport in korea. you’d managed to fulfill your dream of becoming an architect and had finally gotten a project outside of your country. you saw flashing cameras, paparazzi, and a huge crowd of people surrounding a 6’ something guy wearing a mask and some sweats. you never got the idea of surrounding people as if they’re some god. they’re just people too after all. 

you had managed to get through some of the crowd when you reached for your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. you pat it several times just to make sure until you realised something. shit. it was missing.

it was right when the realisation hit you that you felt a tap on your shoulder. you turned around and were face to…chest? god, this man was freakishly tall. you looked up to meet his eyes with yours and it was as if the breath had been knocked out of your damn lungs.

mingyu.

it was YOUR mingyu. 

“y/n?” he questioned, almost to himself. he couldn’t believe it. it was you. there were so many thoughts trying to rush their way out of his heart into his mouth that they seemed to all get clogged up in his throat. your name was the only thing that felt right on his tongue.

“gyu?” you questioned back, the look of surprise on your face quite evident.

“you dropped your phone.” he said, his eyes not leaving yours for even a second. almost as if he was afraid you’d disappear the second you left his eyesight.

“i- oh yeah. thank you” you managed to sputter out as you took the phone from his hand. “what are you- what are you doing here?” you ask him. oh god. this was such a dumb question. what was he doing? you knew what he was doing. you stalked his account like a thousand times. you knew he was an idol.

he flashed a smile when he heard this question. the smile that you hadn’t seen in at least 6 years. it was almost as if it was reserved only for you. he was about to answer you when his bodyguards notified him about something that made his smile drop. 

“i’ll reach out to you later. i promise.” he said as his bodyguards seemed to rush him out of the airport. you were left there alone with your countless thoughts and overflowing emotions, unable to decipher which one was tugging at you more.  

and so, here you were, in your new and surprisingly well furnished flat, all thanks to your sister. you had changed into your tank top and shorts while emptying your bags and setting up your closet. your room was fairly clean by now, even though you were only about halfway done. you had never been a fan of messy surroundings anyways. 

right as you were about to put the last pile of your shorts into your closet, you heard your phone ring. 

“oh. an unknown number? at 9 pm? isn’t it a bit too late for that? or maybe it isn’t?” you thought to yourself. you figured the culture here at korea must be different. 

“hello?” you said, hoping for some sort of an explanation as to who it was.

“hi.” the voice on the other side greeted you. it was almost embarrassing how quick you were to realise who it was.

“mingyu… oh, hi. um, wow. hi.” your voice was shaking already. oh god. way to go, y/n.

“yes,  hello.” you could hear his honey laced laughter from the other side. it made your heart melt. “how have you been?”

“i- okay. first of all, how the hell did you get my number?” you asked, a hint of bewilderment in your voice.

“i had it memorised.” you could HEAR the love in his voice. this was so bad. you were doomed. 

you didn’t really have anything to say, nor did you trust your words at the moment. you were afraid if you said something now, everything else would spill out uncontrollably. 

“why didn’t you call earlier?” your voice was getting shaky. oh no. you knew this was a bad idea. “it’s been 6 years gyu. 6 fucking years.”

‘“i know, i know” mingyu cut you off before you could continue, your words shooting daggers at his heart. he’d always hated seeing you cry. but the pain was different when he was the one making you cry. “i’m so, so sorry. god, i have so much to make up for. please trust me when I tell you there hasn’t been a single day when you haven’t crossed my mind. i know 6 years isn’t nothing. ghosting you was a dick move. i- please. don’t cry. no. god, can i come over?” he asked, picking up on your silent sobs just as well as he did back then.

and just like he used to be back then, he was here at your doorstep to make you forget about everything that ever made you sad. except that this time, he was the one making you cry. he couldn’t ever forgive himself for this, but he could try to atone for his sins, as he’d like to call it.

you weren’t exactly crying anymore, since you’d always been pretty good at regaining your composure. but there was a certain emptiness in your heart, one that you knew only gyu could fill.

you were standing face to face, him panting slightly because of the 7 flights of stairs he’d just conquered. 

“hey.” you said. 

“hi.” he looked down at you. the longing in his eyes too evident for you to ignore.

“no security this time?” you questioned with a smile on your face.

“ah, no. that was airport security. kind of a formality.”

you nodded. “you’ve gotten so big. i can’t even hug you now.” you said while giving him a faint smile, referring to the dozens of fangirls he was surrounded by and not to mention, the security.

“oh bullshit.” he said as he pulled you into the tightest hug you could have ever imagined. his arms fully caging you in as if he never intended to let you go. and you wouldn’t admit it, but you never wanted him to either. 

“i missed you.” he whispered into your hair. “god, i missed you so much. i’m so sorry.” 

he spent 3 hours explaining why he couldn’t contact you and what he had been upto without you. after a while, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about anything besides the fact that one, he did not have a girlfriend. and two, he had changed a lot. appearance wise, that is. he wasn’t the mingyu who had left for korea anymore. he was taller, stronger and undeniably hotter. little did you know, mingyu had been thinking about the same things as you were. when did you get so fucking irresistible? i mean, sure he did have a thing for you back in high school. hell, he hasn’t even been able to get over it for the past 6 years, but seeing you like this, with barely anything on and a newfound confidence which you certainly did not have back then ignited something in him. he didn't know how long it would be until he finally gave in.

and so, here you were. facing him on your bed, talking about some degree of yours, when all he could focus on was the way you licked your lips before continuing, or the way your tits were almost fully out on display for him due to that sad excuse for a clothing item you were wearing. you noticed too. he wasn’t exactly being subtle. the way his knees were touching yours and the way he kept playing with his fingers was driving you insane.

“well, then yeah. here i am now, i guess.” you finished telling him about your life. you were almost completely caught up on each others’ stories now, or so you’d like to believe.

his stare hadn’t once left your lips. you hadn’t really noticed how close his face was to yours until you had finished talking.  “gyu” you questioned, your voice almost a whisper. the space between you could be easily closed with just a lean forward from either of you. it had come down to self control now. and lucky for you, mingyu barely had any when it came to you.

“can i?” he questioned, his lips almost on yours. almost. 

you responded by putting your lips on his, and his hands immediately snaked around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. his grip on you was so strong, it made you whimper against his lips. you didn’t bother pulling away to breathe, the action seeming a bit too unimportant at the moment. you had other things to do right now. “gyu..” you moaned out as his lips made their way down to your neck. “so sweet. so good. been thinking bout this for so long.” he whispered against your skin, punctuating each sentence with a kiss on different parts of your neck. his hands made their way up your top, making direct contact with your skin. the warmth radiating off of his hands made you melt under his touch. 

his hands came up to grasp the hook of your bra as his mouth worked wonders on your sensitive spot. “can i? please?” he asked before unclasping the hooks and discarding the small material of clothing into a small corner of your room. his hands snaked further up your body as he guided your top over your head. he had your tits right in his face now. “fuck… so pretty.  shit, all for me?” he asked as he latched onto your right nipple, sucking and licking at the sensitive bud while his hand worked wonders on the left one, pinching at it, making you squirm. “yes.. gyu please. need more. need you.” 

“patience baby. been wanting this for so long. gonna make it worth it.” he said as he took his shirt off. god, it was a sight to see. he was gorgeous. the toned abs, the huge biceps, and not to mention, that beautiful face, he was going to be the death of you. “like what you see?” he questioned teasingly, but your brain was too focused on the way his hands were squeezing your tits while he used his mouth to suck and nibble at your collarbones. he stopped all of it to grab your attention, and you whined at the loss of contact. “gonna need answers baby. be a good girl and use your words, hmm?” you moaned out a weak ‘yes’ as a response, but he accepted it out of mercy.

“lie down for me, pretty girl. on your back, thats it” he said as he helped you get off his lap and onto the mattress. his lips travelled all the way from your neck to your breasts, down to your tummy. he placed several wet, sloppy kisses all over your tummy, making sure to mark you as his on any part of your skin that was visible. your neck had already served its purpose as his canvas, his art on full display for any man who’d even dare to look at you. he wouldn’t admit it, but he was completely obsessed with the idea of making you his. god, he wanted you so bad. 

his hands found their way to the waistband of your shorts, which he tugged at as a way of asking for your permission yet again. you pulled them off yourself making him let out a groan at your compliance. he was facing your clothed cunt, the wet spot on it embarrassingly evident. he kissed it once, looking up to see your reaction. “does that feel good, love?” he asked as his hand made its way to your core, rubbing light circles on it through your underwear. he was such a tease. 

you couldn’t find it in yourself so speak, so you just nodded. this made him stop again. “please baby, i’m gonna need you to use your words, yeah? tell me how good i’m making you feel.” he said as he spat on that damp spot on your underwear, teasing you even further. “mingyu… feels so good.” you managed to moan out, earning a chuckle from him. “see, it wasn’t that hard baby.” 

he pulled your panties off, spreading your legs even further and getting down on his knees on the floor as he pulled you towards the edge of the bed. “such a pretty pussy. can’t wait to taste you baby.” 

his fingers danced against your clit, tapping slightly in an attempt to tease you. this made you let out a whine. “shh baby. i’m gonna take my time with you.” he said, as he tapped his fingers against your lips, signalling you to take them in. you wasted no time in sucking on his fingers and coating them with your saliva. “such a good girl.” 

his hands slid against your folds, the coldness of your saliva mixed with your slick making you shiver. he rubbed on your clit while his other hand was busy playing with your tits. he inserted one finger into your hole, making you gasp. 

“shit, you’re so fucking tight. need you wrapped around me.” you felt his tongue lapping against your cunt, the feeling sending you into overdrive. you had your hands in his air, tugging at it for some sort of control. “ah- gyu, please. fuck.” he groaned against your pussy, the vibrations reaching straight to your core. just as you felt your high approaching, he gave your clit one last kiss before pulling away. you felt tears well up in your eyes as you let out a whine at the loss of contact.

“aww baby. ‘m sorry. but if you’re gonna cum, it’ll be around my cock.” such a fucking tease.

he pulled his pants off, revealing his deliciously prominent bulge in his boxers. he was palming his cock while staring at your cunt. fuck. 

“shit baby. you’re so beautiful. you want me to fuck you?” he knew the answer. of course he did. he could see you how you clenched around the nothing at the sight of his cock being freed from his boxers. lord have mercy. “yes min. please fuck me.” you managed to choke out. that was all he needed.

he stood between your legs, teasing your entrance with his cock. he slowly rubbed against it, gathering your wetness before slipping it in. the stretch you felt made you moan out loud. the sound was music to his ears. once he was buried inside fully, he waited for you to let him know it was okay to move. 

“shit, you feel so good baby.” he groaned, holding back the urge to thrust hard into you and absolutely ruin you for anyone else. but he knew it was too soon. he wanted to savour this moment, feeling your warmth surrounding his cock. he leaned down to kiss you as he began to move steadily, swallowing up all the sounds you were making. “f-fuck gyu, feels so good” you whined against his lips. his hips rocked into you, building up a rhythm. each powerful stroke made your breath hitch, as your nails were busy creating their own masterpiece on his back. he was proud of it too. 

his hands were on your waist, gripping it tightly as he thrust into you. he was picking up his pace. he pressed down on your abdomen, making you gasp loudly. “you feel that baby? feel my cock against your tummy? does that feel good?” he asked, his voice hoarse and laced with ecstasy. “y-yes min. i’m close, fuck.” he knew from the way your pussy clenched around his cock that you were close. his rhythm was starting to falter as he approached his own high.

“where’d you want it baby? want me to come on your pussy? gonna look so pretty.” you nodded, barely registering his words. you were so close. “please.” was all you could let out. your breathless plea was enough to convince him. 

your eyes squeezed shut as you felt yourself come undone around his cock. a few more thrusts and he pulled out, spilling his seed all over your pussy. he collapsed onto you, placing feather light kisses all over your neck and collarbones.

“i’m never letting you go again, you know?”

“i know.”

“i love you, y/n.” 

[2hightocare]

Missing baby isuel too 😭😭

here’s a small Iseul cameooooo🤍🤍🤍 kuwtb!

"Shut up!" You giggle, putting a hand over your husband's mouth to muffle his grunts.

"This position is giving me cramps, baby," Jungkook whispers into your ear as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap in a quick motion before dropping on his ass with a loud thud.

"Baby," you whisper-shout as you crane your neck to the side to see him with his eyes wide open, mouth hanging open.

"I think I just broke something," he mumbles back, trying to shift only to be restricted by the amount of space you both have.

Playing hide and seek at your grown age was dumb.

You and Jungkook found yourselves together in your closet, stuck in a small corner that is usually used for clothes, but instead it's you on your husband's lap in an uncomfortable position.

"Say sike right now. I just got this part built, Jeon," you clench your teeth, fighting the urge to roll your eyes as you call him by the name you always did when you were being serious.

"'ll fix it," he chuckles into your ear, his hand on your waist tightens, pushing you more upwards to adjust his legs in the tiny space. "Did you know I wanted to be an architect?" you bring up, your voice barely loud enough for Jungkook to hear you.

"Yes, I did, baby. I think you mentioned it once," he tilts his head to the side before leaning backwards against the white wall. "But why? Anything special about it?" Jungkook asks, his lips turning into a small smile as you nod. His fingers play with the hem of your shorts, a small gesture that has butterflies flapping around inside your stomach.

"I wanted to be a princess when I was five," you say.

Jungkook takes notice of how your eyes sparkle in the dark and how your features morph into a happy, relaxed expression as you recall your childhood.

"I had this hobby of making houses out of popsicle sticks, and I used to say those were my castles, and when I was old enough I would make those houses. So for the longest time, people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, and I always said 'architect.'" You nibble on your bottom lip, feeling Jungkook's hands run up and down your bare thighs.

"But you didn't?" he whispers back, dropping his head on your shoulder. "But I didn't," you reply, relaxing against him, feeling your limbs melt into his chest and arms. "I think you're a hot psychologist," Jungkook mumbles into the blade of your shoulder, peppering a kiss.

"Mhm, really?" you pipe in an amorous voice.

Jungkook makes an approving noise as you feel his smile on your shoulder. Your husband continues to drop slow kisses on your neck, making you forget the why you guys are even hidden in this cramped space.

"Do you think she'll find us?" you moan into his cheek, earning yourself a small breathy chuckle in the crook of your neck. "Nah," he replies, his fingers pulling on your hoodie, but before he could take it off, a loud bang interrupts.

"I found you!" A giggle has you and Jungkook jumping off each other.

"Momma! Dadda!" Iseul giggles as she points her small, chubby finger at you both, before you know it, she's jumping into the small, cramped space on top of you both with a giggle-her five-year-old body making you both groan.

"I win!" Iseul celebrates, pulling onto your neck for a hug, making you laugh. "You did, princess!" Jungkook celebrates, moving past what you guys were planning on doing not so long ago.

[hyunebunx]

˖˙ ᰋ ── 💜- 'a tender kiss on the partner's shoulder'

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: you and teri requested the same thing so i tried to make it extra fluffy <3 i hope you enjoy, my lovess <3 (if this doesn't show up in the tags again i'm gonna scream)

You could admit without any hesitation that cooking for your loved ones was your favorite way of spoiling and showering them with your unwavering affection. Seeing their faces light up at the sight of their favorite meal after a tiring, long day was an unmatched experience, along with the content sighs of delight and the faint smiles adorning their features as they chewed happily, recharging.

It was a love language, described beautifully on every page of your treasured, worn cookbook. The one you’ve been handling with care from the moment you decided to learn to cook your best friend’s comfort food back in high school when she desperately needed a pick-me-up.

Years later, honing those skills came in handy as you began cooking for every gathering, be it with friends or family, feeding yourself with their genuine joy and bright smiles. After all, nothing spelt ‘I love you’ quite like a homecooked meal, prepared with care and utmost attention as you danced to the beat of your favorite songs in your small kitchen.

And one person in particular knew all about it, receiving your love in all forms but especially through your cooking. Seungmin had never felt this special until he met you, the person who would bend over backwards to bring a simple smile to his face, longing to make him happy every minute of every day spent by your side.

So naturally, he wished to return the sentiment, needing to bring you even a quarter of all that happiness you gifted him every day.

“Good morning, my love.” Seungmin feels you before he hears you, your arms wrapping around his middle snuggly as your chin moves to peer over his shoulder curiously. “Whatcha’ doin'?”

He shakes his head affectionately, flipping over a pancake with a smile. “I mean, I was trying to surprise you with breakfast in bed but it looks like you had other plans.”

“Oh.”

Not your fault the bed was cold, which had you waking up in search of him on autopilot. Nobody could blame you for missing your boyfriend when you spent every free moment glued to each other’s sides.

Even so, he can tell you feel bad, voice dropping as a pout takes over sunny features. But he can also tell how much you appreciate the gesture, tightening the embrace before placing a tender kiss on his shoulder, lips lingering there when you speak again. “I’m sorry. I can go back if you want me to.”

“Yes, please.” He nods, placing another pancake on the plate next to the stove, diligently building his syrupy pancake tower like a skilled architect.

You laugh, kissing his nape. “Alright, baby. Anything for you.”

Yet as you try to unwrap your arms from around him, one of his hands grabs your wrist to keep you in place. “Not…right now. Maybe in, um, two minutes?”

His attempts at keeping you near a little bit longer were absolutely adorable, heart melting into a red puddle resembling strawberry jam. How could you say no?

So, you embrace him again, smiling from ear to ear as you both bask in each other’s love while the sun struggles to rise on this cloudy morning. You begin talking and conversing about mundane things as two minutes turn into five, and then ten, when you pause to plant kisses all over his upper back and shoulders, congratulating him for finishing the food as he giggles shyly. Praising your talented love will remain one of your favorite activities as long as you draw breath.

“You can go now.” He says, swiftly turning around in your embrace. “But take this first, and don’t lose it, alright?”

You’re confused, brows rising in wonder as Seungmin doesn’t elaborate but moves your arms to settle over his shoulder, his circling your waist naturally. “What – “

He silences you with a kiss, the corners of his mouth turning upwards briefly as you finally catch on, amused, before bringing you closer so you’re chest to chest, just as the first ray of sunshine sneaks past your ajar window.

While he would never expect you to return the pancakes, his kiss was another story. You needed to hold on to it, guarding it with your life until the right moment came along and you could surprise him by returning the love tenfold and stealing his breath away.

You know what they say, an eye for an eye. But in this case, a kiss for another kiss.

[witchingwithscissors]

Agathario AU | A garden architect, a civil rights lawyer, and a future lemon tree enthusiast build a life together. 🌱

Rio never stayed anywhere for long. She didn’t do attachments. After growing up in foster care, she learned to leave before anyone had a chance to push her away. At twenty-nine, she built things for others—landscapes, gardens, outdoor sanctuaries—but never for herself.

That changed the day she met Agatha.

It was supposed to be a quick in-and-out at the city’s Urban Renewal meeting. Rio, dressed in her usual black jeans, scuffed boots, and a half-hearted flannel, sat in the back with a cooling coffee she didn’t intend to finish. Bureaucrats droned on about green space funding, and Rio was debating if she could sneak out early when she walked in—heels clicking against the polished floor, a sharp navy blazer, and red lipstick that looked criminal against the sterile lighting.

She carried herself like she owned the room. Small, delicate, but commanding.

The seat next to Rio was empty—until it wasn’t.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else,” Agatha murmured, her voice carrying a rich, self-assured warmth.

Rio turned her head, arching an eyebrow at her new seatmate. “And yet, here I am.”

Agatha’s lips twitched into a knowing smirk. “So you’re either deeply invested in urban policy, or you got dragged here by someone who is.”

Rio huffed a quiet laugh. “Option B. My funding depends on playing nice with city officials.”

“Ah. Blackmail. That explains the dead-in-the-eyes expression.” Agatha tilted her head, dark eyes twinkling. “Agatha Harkness, civil rights lawyer.”

“Rio Vidal. I plant things.”

Agatha’s lips parted in something amused, something intrigued. “That sounds deceptively simple.”

“You’d be surprised how much dirt fights back.”

They bantered through the meeting, ignoring the agenda, ignoring the clock. When Agatha was called away by some council member, she stood, smoothing down her blazer, and—just for a second—her fingertips brushed against Rio’s wrist.

It was brief. Fleeting. But Rio sat there after she left, fingers tingling.

A week later, Rio got a text from an unknown number:

Are you planning on suffering through another meeting, or can I steal you for coffee? – Agatha

One coffee turned into a second. Then a glass of wine at a cozy bar. By the third time, they were lingering in conversation, toes brushing under the table. That’s when Agatha said it—offhand, unguarded.

“I should probably head home soon,” she murmured, checking her watch. “Nicky expects me to be on bedtime FaceTime if I’m out.”

Rio tilted her head. “Nicky?”

“My son.” Agatha lifted her gaze carefully. “He’s seven. And, unfortunately, very observant.”

Rio’s breath caught. A kid. Agatha had a kid.

Her first instinct was to say nothing, to nod and brush it off. But when she looked at Agatha—this sharp, composed woman who had a soft edge when she spoke about her son—something inside her didn’t want to dismiss it.

“You’re a lawyer and a single mom?” Rio asked instead, attempting levity. “Talk about overachieving.”

Agatha smirked, but there was a flicker of relief behind it. “It’s a lot. But he’s my world.”

Rio didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know if she should say anything. But when Agatha reached for her wine glass, Rio’s fingers brushed against hers, brief and certain.

“I bet he’s a smart kid,” Rio said, voice even. “If he’s anything like you.”

Agatha’s eyes softened.

And that was that.

The first time Rio kissed Agatha, it was late, too late, and neither of them had meant to let the night stretch so long. They were outside a quiet café, the air cool with the promise of rain, standing too close under the soft glow of a streetlamp.

Agatha’s voice had dropped to something hushed, intimate. “I think you like me.”

Rio’s smirk was lazy, teasing. “You think?”

Agatha lifted her chin, lips slightly parted. “I know.”

Rio didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. She leaned in, pressing their mouths together—slow, lingering, testing. Agatha responded instantly, her hands sliding up Rio’s arms, fingers curling into the fabric of her flannel like she needed something to hold on to.

When they pulled apart, Rio’s pulse pounded. Agatha’s breath was shaky, but her confidence remained, a small smirk playing at her lips.

“I was right,” she murmured.

Rio huffed a laugh, thumb tracing Agatha’s wrist. “You’re annoyingly smug, you know that?”

Agatha arched a delicate brow. “You kissed me first.”

Rio hummed. “I’ll take that as permission to do it again.”

And she did.

Agatha was careful, so careful, about when and how she introduced Rio to Nicky.

It was a casual dinner. Nothing formal. Rio arrived with a bag of donuts, trying not to overthink it.

She knocked, and when the door swung open, she came face-to-face with a skinny kid with big brown eyes and untamed hair. He blinked up at her, evaluating.

“You’re the lady Mom said curses at politicians,” he announced.

Rio blinked. Agatha, from the kitchen, choked on her drink.

“That is not what I said,” Agatha called, mortified.

Rio snorted, crouching to Nicky’s level. “Your mom exaggerates. I just…strongly criticize bad decisions.”

Nicky grinned, glancing at the bag in Rio’s hand. “Are those for me?”

Rio smirked. “Depends. Do you support urban gardens?”

His brow furrowed. “What’s an urban garden?”

“We’ll work on that,” Rio said, ruffling his hair before standing.

Agatha, watching from the doorway, looked both relieved and deeply exasperated.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. The three of them formed a quiet rhythm. Nicky started stealing Rio’s flannels to wear around the house, drowning in the sleeves. Agatha would greet Rio with a soft kiss at the door, murmuring something teasing, something warm. Rio, who had never belonged anywhere, started staying past dinner.

One night, after Nicky had fallen asleep on the couch, Agatha turned to Rio, voice low.

“He adores you, you know.”

Rio swallowed. “Yeah?”

Agatha traced a finger along Rio’s wrist, featherlight. “Yeah.”

Rio didn’t answer with words. She kissed Agatha, slow and deep, like she was sealing a promise.

The day Rio proposed, it wasn’t planned.

She, Agatha, and Nicky had just checked on the sapling they planted together, a quiet, symbolic thing that meant more than any spoken words.

Nicky ran ahead, laughing about something, and Rio stood beside Agatha, watching her watch him.

And suddenly, it felt obvious.

Rio exhaled. “Hey.”

Agatha turned, curious.

Rio’s fingers itched, nerves spiking, but her voice came steady. “You’re a lawyer, right? Big believer in the law and all that?”

Agatha narrowed her eyes, amused. “What are you getting at?”

Rio took a breath, exhaling slow. “I was thinking… I should marry you.”

Agatha froze.

Nicky, from a few feet away, let out an ear-splitting shriek of joy. “WE’RE GETTING MARRIED!” He tackled Rio’s legs.

Agatha, shocked, blinked at Rio, breathless. “Are you—serious?”

Rio, flustered by the weight of Agatha’s sudden, smoldering stare, scratched the back of her neck. “I mean—yeah. You and Nicky—you’re my family. Why not make it official?”

Agatha’s stunned silence stretched, her eyes glistening. Then, in one smooth motion, she grabbed Rio’s face and kissed her—deep, consuming, fierce.

Nicky screamed in joy beside them.

Rio, heart thudding, grinned against Agatha’s lips. “That a yes?”

Agatha laughed, breathless. “Yes.”

And just like that, Rio had roots.

Wedding planning was a foreign language to Rio. It turned out that even a relatively small ceremony required decisions she’d never considered. Colors, plates, seating charts, official paperwork, and the question of who to invite. The moment she got off the phone with the city clerk—finalizing the date for a license—her knees felt wobbly.

Agatha noticed. She rested her hands on Rio’s shoulders, thumbs gently kneading the tension at the back of Rio’s neck. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Rio laughed, half-hearted. “I’m… out of my depth.”

Agatha’s eyebrow arched.

“It’s the idea of having…a real, permanent place in someone’s life.” She paused, exhaling a slow breath. “I’ve never had family. You and Nicky are the closest thing I’ve got.”

Agatha’s expression softened, her arms slipping around Rio’s waist. “We’re not going anywhere.”

There was comfort in that, but Rio’s chest still felt tight. She wanted to believe the promise in Agatha’s eyes. Wanted to trust that the invisible thread binding them wouldn’t snap. For a moment, she leaned her forehead against Agatha’s and just breathed in the subtle scent of her shampoo and the warmth of her skin.

Nicky, playing in the next room, shouted something at his video game, oblivious to the hush that had fallen between the two women.

“We’ll do this at our own pace,” Agatha said, voice gentle. “We don’t have to throw a huge party. We don’t need bells and whistles. Whatever makes us feel like us—that’s enough.”

Rio smiled, feeling the tension loosen a fraction. “But you deserve something nice,” she murmured. “Something that celebrates the amazing person you are.”

Agatha touched her cheek lightly. “We’ll celebrate each other. And maybe a good deal on a DJ.”

Rio snorted, leaning in to kiss her, slow and sure. “Deal.”

Still, a seed of unease took root in Rio’s heart. She knew how fragile life could be. And the more she wanted this—wanted them—the more terrified she became of losing it.

Shortly after the engagement, the city council awarded Rio a large-scale contract: designing a new community garden in a neglected neighborhood. It was the most significant job she’d ever landed, one that promised future work and financial stability. But it also came with something unexpected: local spotlight.

Reporters wanted pointless interviews. Residents asked her about volunteer opportunities. And all of a sudden, Rio found her face featured on social media pages touting “the local gardener with heart.”

She tried not to panic at the attention. The city’s Public Works liaison insisted this kind of publicity would help gather more support. That was good for the community, so Rio obliged. But each article had a snippet about her background, her “rags to riches” angle—abandoned in the foster system, now a rising star in urban landscaping. It was the kind of spin that made her skin crawl.

Agatha picked up on her discomfort and gently nudged her to talk about it one evening, when the house was quiet and Nicky was asleep. They sat together on the sofa, legs entwined.

“You don’t like how they keep bringing up your foster care background,” Agatha said quietly. “Does it feel…exploitative?”

Rio exhaled, resting her head on the back of the couch. “I think it’s more that it forces me to relive a period of my life I’d rather leave behind. It’s like I’m being reduced to a sob story. And I don’t—I don’t want pity. I never wanted that.”

Agatha slipped her hand into Rio’s, gently brushing her thumb across Rio’s knuckles. “I know you don’t. And you deserve not to be labeled. But it’s also part of who you are.”

“I just…every time someone digs for details, I remember how alone I was. Maybe I still feel alone, in some ways.”

The admission came out quieter than she intended. She risked a glance at Agatha, who looked heartbroken on her behalf. Instead of speaking, Agatha responded by leaning in, pressing her lips against Rio’s shoulder in a soft, tender gesture. The warmth of it chased away some of the chill that had settled in Rio’s bones.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Agatha said softly. “I’m here. And Nicky is here. You have a place with us. I promise.”

Rio swallowed, eyes stinging. She turned, hands finding Agatha’s waist, and pulled her close. The press of their bodies was comforting, real, everything that felt like home. She buried her face in Agatha’s neck and let her tears slip out silently, relief and fear tangling into one potent wave.

Because wanting this much was terrifying. But it was also the first time in her life she felt like she belonged.

The days ticked closer to the wedding date, which they’d set for mid-June—a time when gardens would be in full bloom. True to Agatha’s reassurance, they weren’t going big. They settled on a small outdoor ceremony, maybe forty people total, in the courtyard of a historic library that boasted climbing ivy and a fountain nearly a century old.

Meanwhile, the community garden project was in full swing. Rio spent her days walking the neglected lots, surveying the soil, talking to volunteers and curious residents. She mapped out irrigation lines and split her time between drafting blueprints and actually planting the first batches of perennial shrubs.

But every success story invites conflict, and in this case, it came in the form of a wealthy developer named Lionel Palmer. Rumor had it he was planning to buy up adjacent properties to build luxury condos, which would overshadow the community garden and change the neighborhood’s character. One afternoon, as Rio was directing a small group of volunteers, a sleek black car parked by the sidewalk. Out stepped Palmer himself: tall, white-haired, wearing an expensive suit and a practiced politician’s smile.

“Ms. Vidal, is it?” he greeted, crossing the dusty path in polished loafers that looked absurd against the piles of mulch and scattered shovels.

Rio wiped her hands on her jeans, regarding him warily. “Something I can do for you?”

Palmer smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I was hoping to discuss the future of this neighborhood. I hear you’re doing some excellent work, but I’ve got some big plans, too.”

Rio folded her arms. “Plans that might conflict with this garden, I’m guessing.”

He spread his hands as if he were helpless. “I believe in progress. Development is inevitable. But if you’re looking for more funding, or a better site, perhaps I can help. I can even sweeten the deal if you’ll relocate your operation to a more convenient location.”

His easy offer made Rio’s stomach turn. The point of the garden was to revitalize this exact lot for the local residents, not some hidden corner away from new luxury buildings. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she said curtly. “We’re here to stay.”

Palmer’s false smile vanished for a split second. He adjusted his cufflinks. “Well, I’m sure we’ll talk again soon,” he said, voice clipped. Then he left, leaving a waft of expensive cologne in his wake.

That night, Rio told Agatha about it over dinner. Agatha’s expression hardened, lawyer instincts kicking in. “I’ll make some calls. See if we can shore up community support. If he thinks he can bully you or the residents out, he’ll have a legal fight on his hands.”

“Could you really help?” Rio asked, hope and uncertainty bleeding together.

Agatha nodded, reaching for her hand across the table. “That’s what I do, remember? I stand up for people’s rights—even if that means scaring off an ugly ol’ corporate shark in a suit.”

Rio squeezed Agatha’s hand, grateful and a little awed. And in the living room, Nicky paused his video game just long enough to ask, “Does that mean Mom’s gonna sue someone again?”

Agatha’s laugh filled the kitchen with a buoyant warmth. “Only if we have to,” she said.

Rio couldn’t help but grin. She had a new family, a daunting project, and a possible legal battle on her hands, but she also had never felt so supported.

Between wedding tasks and the intensifying pushback from Palmer’s allies, Rio found herself slipping into the old habit of sleeping with one eye open—figuratively, at least. She woke before dawn most days to frantic mental checklists: buy more mulch, finalize the wedding music, confirm the officiant, pay the nursery for the next set of saplings.

One early morning, she slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the living room so she wouldn’t wake Agatha. Moonlight spilled through the curtains, illuminating the half-finished wedding invitation samples laid out on the coffee table. Rio sank onto the couch and stared at the swirling fonts. It struck her how surreal this all felt—that she was engaged, creating a life with someone she adored, accepted even by that someone’s child who might one day call her stepmom.

Then came the doubt. She tried to imagine a future: their wedding day, them exchanging vows, Nicky throwing confetti in the air, the new community garden thriving. What if she messed up? What if the weight of a marriage was too much for her? What if she brought them down with her own insecurities?

Quietly, she closed her eyes, half-hoping the doubts would vanish in the hush of the pre-dawn hour. Instead, her memories stirred—foster homes, the angry accusations from guardians who never truly wanted her, the heartbreak of packing a tiny duffel bag for the next home. She’d always left first, always. That had been her armor.

She almost jumped out of her skin when Agatha’s soft voice came from behind. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Rio turned, startled, to see her fiancée in an oversized t-shirt, hair messy, eyes gentle with concern.

“Sorry,” Rio mumbled. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Agatha padded across the floor, settled next to Rio, and slid a warm arm around her waist. “You think I don’t notice how restless you are? Talk to me.”

Rio swallowed. Her voice emerged in a half-whisper, as if the night might swallow it. “I just get scared. That I’ll hurt you. Or that something will happen, and I’ll lose you both.”

The admission, once it was out, made her feel oddly lighter—though also vulnerable enough that her heart pounded like a drum.

Agatha listened, then gently cupped Rio’s cheek. “You won’t. And if it ever feels overwhelming, tell me. I’m not going to let you slip away because you’re afraid.”

Her matter-of-fact tone forced a shaky laugh from Rio. She turned and pressed her forehead to Agatha’s. “You’re too good for me, you know.”

Agatha snorted softly. “I think we’re perfect for each other.”

They stayed like that, holding each other in the silent glow of the moonlight, until the darkness felt less intimidating.

As the wedding crept closer, the tension with the developer did, too. True to his word, Palmer started pulling strings with local authorities. He lobbied for “rezoning” that could stunt the community garden’s expansion or limit its open hours. A few city officials seemed inclined to listen to him—he’d promised them new businesses, a higher tax base, and maybe some off-the-record campaign support.

It was a classic case of money versus community. Agatha assembled a group of local lawyers and activists, leaning on her network. They began drafting petitions, requesting public hearings, and rallying residents who saw the garden as an oasis in a gentrifying area.

One week before the ceremony, a crucial meeting with the city council was scheduled. Rio stood outside the council chamber, a battered folio of plans and documents tucked under her arm, heart thrumming. Agatha was by her side, professional in a fitted blazer, phone in hand, scanning last-minute updates.

Nicky, surprisingly well-behaved in a collared shirt and tiny dress pants, clung to Agatha’s hand. He had insisted on coming. His logic was unwavering: “It’s my family’s project, too. I gotta defend my tree.”

That final argument—his tree—referred to the sapling they’d all planted months ago. Rio’s throat had tightened at the memory. She made sure he packed snacks and a quiet game to occupy himself during the hearing.

Inside, Palmer was already there, conferring with his lawyer. He gave Rio and Agatha a thin-lipped smile that did nothing to hide his arrogance. The meeting began, and the council members listened as Agatha presented their case. She detailed the community’s need for accessible green space, the existing city contracts, the positive environmental impact, and—most critically—the intangible value of safe communal gathering spots in under-served neighborhoods.

Palmer’s attorney tried to spin it as a hindrance to progress, an inefficient use of prime real estate. Palmer himself volunteered a grandiose plan to donate “a small public seating area” within his condo development, dismissing the existing garden as “unsightly, ephemeral.”

Rio clenched her fists so hard her knuckles went white. But she managed, when invited to speak, to keep her composure and talk passionately about the garden’s design, the sense of unity it was already bringing, and the volunteers who had poured their hearts into it.

In the end, public opinion swayed the day. The hearing was open, and dozens of residents turned up to advocate for Rio’s project. After nearly two hours of debate, the council moved to protect the garden’s status and expand its funding—though final steps would require more signatures and official acceptance.

Palmer left abruptly, ignoring the handful of reporters trying to question him. Outside the chamber, Rio finally exhaled, tension easing from her muscles. Nicky cheered and demanded they celebrate with ice cream. Agatha patted his hair affectionately.

“You did great,” she whispered to Rio, slipping her hand into hers.

“I just followed your lead,” Rio said, lips curving into a relieved smile.

Nicky, overhearing, grinned up at them. “You guys are like a superhero team.”

Rio glanced at Agatha, heart warming at the sparkle in her eyes. “Couldn’t ask for a better team,” she said.

Finally, the wedding day arrived. The morning dawned mild and sunny, with a light breeze. For once, Rio had no trouble waking up early—her excitement was enough to jolt her from bed.

Rio had never felt so many butterflies. She’d always envisioned that if she ever did tie the knot (an idea she once dismissed as impossible), she’d show up in jeans and a maybe a nice blouse. But Agatha—elegant, poised Agatha—deserved something more.

So Rio compromised. She wore well-tailored charcoal pants and a crisp white shirt, over which she donned a vest that complemented the color of her eyes. At Nicky’s insistence, she even sported a simple tie. She looked at herself in the mirror and felt…strangely proud. She wasn’t playing dress-up for someone else’s sake; she was stepping into a version of herself that felt both authentic and new.

Meanwhile, Agatha arrived in a sleek ivory pantsuit that took Rio’s breath away. Her hair was swept up, showcasing the elegant column of her neck, and her bright red lipstick was as bold as ever. Nicky wore a tiny matching blazer, beaming like he owned the world.

The small courtyard—surrounded by ivy-covered walls—was set up with a few rows of chairs, flowers, and an arch draped in green vines. Rio’s crew from the community garden had helped decorate, lending a magic of their own with potted plants and fresh blooms. The sun cast a golden glow through the open space, dancing across the fountain’s water.

When the music started—gentle acoustic guitar from a friend of Agatha’s—everyone rose. Rio stood at the arch, heart hammering. Then she saw Agatha step into view, Nicky at her side, and it felt like the entire world stopped. The hush, the light, the swirl of anticipation—it all merged into a single moment that took Rio’s breath away.

They exchanged vows that they’d written themselves. Agatha’s voice was strong and steady, yet tears glimmered in her eyes as she spoke about loving Rio’s passion for life, her determination, and her fierce loyalty to those she cared for. Rio’s voice shook when she promised to stand by Agatha, to nurture Nicky as her own, and to finally believe in the possibility of a forever home.

Nicky managed to hold the rings without dropping them—though he did fidget enough that everyone laughed. When they slid those metal bands onto each other’s fingers, the thunderous applause in that intimate courtyard felt like it could echo for miles.

Then, of course, they kissed. And it wasn’t just a polite, quick wedding kiss; it was deep, heartfelt, and laced with the promise of all that was to come.

The reception that followed was modest but lively. Platters of homemade food lined tables beneath a cluster of fairy lights, and guests meandered between the courtyard and the adjacent library halls. There was dancing—but not the typical stiff wedding dancing. It was more like a community gathering, with Nicky weaving between legs, collecting slices of cake, and encouraging people to show off the silliest moves possible.

Rio found herself laughing so hard her sides hurt, her cheeks warm from the occasional glass of wine and from happiness that felt startling in its intensity. She danced with Agatha to a slow tune—both of them swaying in the hush, foreheads resting together, as the world seemed to fade around them.

Occasionally, she caught glimpses of her volunteer crew, the city council members who actually supported the garden, and even a few old acquaintances from her traveling days. They were all gathered for her—for them—celebrating something she never thought she’d have.

By the end of the night, her new ring felt like it belonged on her hand as much as her callouses did. They loaded everything into cars—bouquets, leftover food, gift bags. Nicky promptly fell asleep in the backseat. Agatha and Rio, exhausted in the best way, leaned against each other, the hum of the engine sending them into a drowsy, contented state.

They arrived home—their home. They carried the sleeping boy to his bed, then tiptoed to their own room. In the quiet darkness, after changed clothes and brushed teeth, they climbed under the covers.

Rio lay there, listening to the faint sounds of the city outside. In that moment, every fear in her body quieted. She felt Agatha’s warm breath on her neck, Agatha’s hand draped across her waist. She felt safe.

And in a soft whisper, Agatha said, “We did it,” before pressing a slow, loving kiss to Rio’s shoulder.

Rio turned and kissed her wife—wife—with a tenderness that was anything but fleeting.

Married life didn’t magically erase obstacles. If anything, the swirl of responsibilities only intensified.

Not three days after the wedding, construction equipment rumbled onto a street near the community garden. Palmer had discovered a way to commence his condo project, though restricted in certain areas, and the noise shook the neighborhood.

Rio spent long days coordinating volunteer schedules, checking the well-being of newly planted flower beds, even meeting with city inspectors to ensure the bulldozers weren’t encroaching on the garden’s designated land.

Meanwhile, Agatha juggled her regular caseload of battles that often had her in court for hours and the ongoing skirmish with Palmer’s legal team. She and Rio often touched base by phone midday, exchanging quick updates. Some evenings, they’d both drag themselves home, exhausted, and realize Nicky had to be fed, helped with homework, and put to bed.

It was a crash course in partnership. They snapped at each other occasionally—tension high from overwork—but always apologized before the night was through. They learned to share chores more effectively, to swap pick-up duties for Nicky’s after-school program, to carve out a few minutes just to breathe together in the midst of chaos.

Despite everything, the garden continued to grow. The local youth group constructed raised beds, seniors organized a weekly harvest exchange, and the tiny sapling that Rio, Agatha, and Nicky had planted months before was visibly taller, its leaves bright green in the summer sun.

One afternoon, when Rio was on-site watering a row of new shrubs, she caught sight of Nicky and his school friend kneeling by the baby tree. They spoke in hushed voices, occasionally reaching out to brush a leaf. Then Nicky turned around and hollered, “Look, Rio! It’s bigger!”

Rio grinned. “It sure is.”

In that small exchange, she felt a swell of pride—and belonging.

Summer gave way to early autumn, the leaves browning at the edges, the air losing its sweltering humidity. The garden thrived, though volunteers now planted the seasonal vegetables that could stand cooler temperatures—kale, spinach, cabbage. Families came to pick herbs. Children decorated pumpkins at a makeshift harvest festival. Even Palmer’s looming luxury condos couldn’t overshadow the sense of community that had taken root.

Rio and Agatha settled deeper into the routines of marriage and parenthood. Nicky started third grade, excited to show off his “two moms” at open house night. Rio found new edges to her identity: part wife, part mother figure, part passionate gardener—no longer the solitary wanderer.

But old fears still bubbled up from time to time. One chilly evening, Rio received a letter in the mail—an unexpected contact from a distant cousin she never knew she had, who had found her name in some genealogical database. It stirred complicated emotions, tugging at the raw memory of belonging to no one and nowhere.

“Do you want to meet them?” Agatha asked gently, rubbing Rio’s back as they sat at the kitchen table.

Rio stared at the letter, a messy scrawl from someone claiming to have ‘always wondered if I had family out there.’ “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Part of me wants to ignore it. Another part is…curious. Angry. Confused.”

Agatha understood that conflict. She gave Rio room to process. In the end, it was the memory of Nicky’s unconditional acceptance that nudged her to reply. She arranged a time to meet at a nearby café, not sure if it would lead to heartbreak or something else.

In the days leading up to the meeting, Rio’s nerves frayed. But when she walked into the café, spotted a slightly older woman with the same dark hair and strong jawline, she realized that maybe—just maybe—blood wasn’t always the measure of true family. Yet still, it could offer closure she never had.

After an hour of awkward conversation, they parted amicably, exchanging phone numbers to keep in touch. Rio felt oddly lighter, like a loose thread had finally been snipped. She returned home to Agatha’s comforting smile and Nicky’s boisterous greeting, and realized that while she might have lost out on extended family for decades, she had chosen one that mattered.

By the time the first frost threatened to creep in, Rio’s community garden had become a staple in the neighborhood. A local nonprofit recognized her efforts, awarding her a small grant that would fund a greenhouse to sustain winter crops.

One crisp afternoon, Rio, Agatha, and Nicky walked through the garden together. Nicky wore a jacket two sizes too big—one of Rio’s old flannels beneath it. He dashed among the rows of raised beds, pointing out the last of the peppers. Agatha’s heels clicked on the paved walkway Rio’s team had installed, and her wife’s hand found her arm, anchoring her in a gentle hold.

“Remember that first city meeting where we met?” Agatha said with a laugh. “You were so unimpressed.”

Rio smirked. “With the meeting, yes. With you? Absolutely not, my love.”

They continued strolling, the sun filtering through the scattered leaves. In the far corner, the sapling they’d planted together now had slender branches that danced in the breeze. Each of them paused to look at it. Nicky, looking proud, prodded the trunk gently. “It’s a lot bigger than me now.”

“Not quite,” Rio teased, “but soon.”

Agatha slid her hand into Rio’s. “I like thinking about how it’ll be ten years from now—maybe big enough to climb.”

“Ten years,” Rio echoed, voice tinged with quiet awe. “We’ll be here, and so will this tree.”

They stood there, the three of them, in a moment that felt still and infinite. For Rio, time and memory folded in on itself. She saw the uncertain child she’d once been, shifting from house to house without a guiding star. She saw the determined woman she became, forging relationships carefully and never letting herself need anyone too deeply.

And then she saw Agatha and Nicky, bright as day, sharing the same piece of sky.

Yes, the world was unpredictable. But maybe that unpredictability was what made these moments precious.

Rio knelt beside Nicky and ruffled his hair. “We’ll have to plant more trees, you know. One for every milestone, so this place is always growing.”

Nicky’s eyes went wide. “We can plant one when I graduate, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“And one for the dog Mom won’t let me have?” he teased, shooting Agatha a mischievous grin.

Agatha sighed, shaking her head with a fond smile. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, buddy. You already have a tarantula I barely tolerate—one your mamma swore would be an educational experience and not just an elaborate prank on me.”

Rio’s heart filled with warmth, an emotion so vast it was almost overwhelming. She realized that each milestone—each addition to this garden—was an act of faith in the future. And that faith, for once, felt steady beneath her feet.

One Saturday, the garden hosted a community harvest day. Families brought small dishes to share, kids decorated the last of the summer pumpkins, and an older neighbor taught a free canning workshop. The sun was bright, the air crisp, and the entire block buzzed with laughter and conversation.

Rio and Agatha, having arrived early, helped set up tables. Nicky raced around with a group of friends, squealing about the “best vantage point” to watch the day’s festivities. Agatha occasionally stepped away to field a call on some new legal matter, but she always returned with a relieved smile, arms slipping around Rio’s waist.

During a lull, as folks meandered through the improvised stands of homemade jams and produce, Rio took a moment to admire the scope of what they had accomplished. The once-empty, trash-strewn lot was now a thriving place of color, life, and human connection. She caught sight of Ms. Heart, an elderly resident who always wore bright pink hats, guiding a cluster of children through picking ripe tomatoes. On the other side, a few teenage volunteers arranged fresh-cut flowers into bouquets, half-laughing, half-bickering about how best to tie ribbons.

Agatha sidled up to Rio, slipping a hand into hers. “Think about how many people’s lives you’ve touched.”

“We,” Rio corrected softly. “You’ve been part of this every step of the way.”

Agatha’s eyes shone with affection. “I’m proud of you.”

Rio’s throat went tight. “I’m proud of us.”

They wandered around, sampling homemade muffins and chatting with neighbors. Finally, at a makeshift stage—really just a sturdy wooden pallet used for announcements—Rio stepped up to address the gathered crowd. Public speaking still made her stomach knot, but she squared her shoulders and took the microphone.

“I, um…thank you all for coming,” she said, voice trembling slightly before she found her stride. “When we started this project, it was just a lot of broken concrete and weeds. But you all showed up. You invested time and hope into a space that’s now vibrant and full of life. So this garden isn’t just mine. It’s all of yours. Thank you.”

Applause echoed among the new raised beds and flower plots, bouncing off the walls of the nearby buildings. Rio stepped down, heart pounding, and Agatha pulled her close, whispering something loving against her ear that made Rio flush with a mix of happiness and shyness.

Nicky, bounding over, claimed the microphone next—unplanned—and proudly declared, “And next time we’re planting a lemon tree so I can have lemonade all the time!”

The crowd erupted in laughter. Rio had to hide her grin behind her hand while a friend gently eased the microphone away from the over-exuberant child.

The months that followed proved that marriage—and motherhood—weren’t static. They evolved with every challenge. Nicky’s eighth birthday party was a chaotic mix of kids racing around the garden, pinning tails on cardboard donkeys. Agatha’s caseload took her into the realm of heated protests, reminding Rio that her wife fought battles on multiple fronts. And the greenhouse construction for the community garden began, bringing new sets of planning spreadsheets and stressed phone calls.

But in the midst of all the chaos, there were these radiant pockets of family life that glowed with unexpected intensity. Mornings began with the gentle hiss of fresh coffee and the rustle of coloring pencils as Nicky sketched his latest ideas for Rio’s garden. Evenings ended in a drowsy tangle on the couch, Nicky nestled securely between them, half-watching a nature documentary until his eyes fluttered shut. And Sundays—oh, those Sundays—found Rio tiptoeing out of bed to stir a slow-cooker stew, only to feel Agatha’s warm, sleepy arms slide around her waist, a softly murmured “good morning, my love” sending waves of contentment coursing through her. Each small moment shone like a promise, binding them closer than any challenge ever could.

They had friction, too. Arguments about what time Nicky should go to bed, or how to discipline him when he refused to do his chores. Tense whispers about how many hours Rio spent at the garden. Hushed spats about Agatha’s workload. But these frictions never overshadowed the depth of their commitment. They learned to talk through each disagreement, sometimes with tears, sometimes with frustration, but always with the knowledge that they were in this for the long haul.

Rio couldn’t pinpoint the exact day she woke up and realized she no longer waited for the other shoe to drop. But it happened on a Tuesday, or a mundane Thursday, when she glanced around their home and felt only warmth and certainty.

Her old instinct to run had faded into nothing, replaced by the steady, unshakable weight of belonging.

To see that transformation in herself filled her with awe.

She had put down roots and found them stable, strong.

It was as though she’d planted her heart in good soil for the first time. 🌱

[mirangel]

HII RANN ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE I REQUESTED SOMETHING SOOO LIKE CAN YOU DO ALHAITHAM X HYBRID READER X KAVEH AND LIKE THE READERS IN HEAT LOLOLOL

(I suffer from an unclean mind 😂😂)

monthly heat !

cw: gn!reader, hybrid!reader, heat, slightly omegaverse-y, polyam, kavetham here and there, praise, overstim, degradation, double pounding, dumbification

written by a minor, dni if uncomfortable

you can’t help but drown yourself in the overwhelming feeling of your heat. you practically raided your two roommates’ closets in order to prepare for this after all, but nothing could come close to the two men’s presence themselves. you could hardly breathe, grinding yourself in your beloved architect’s silk pillow, while you bury your face into your scribe’s clothing, begging to no one in particular for them to come home quicker, for them to come home and satisfy your needs. luckily for you however, they came home earlier than they both expected, and they were greeted to a beautiful sight of you humping kaveh’s pillow, while drowning your entire senses in alhaitham’s clothes.

“my… how naughty of you, to be playing with yourself while we’re away.” alhaitham sneers, pinning himself above your needy body while kaveh moves his body next to yours, rubbing the small of your back with his slender hand, using the other hand to rest his head on his fist, a gentle smile on his face. “alhaitham dear, this poor thing’s in heat! we should take care of them, it’s our duty as their mate after all!” the blond chirps, giving a small peck on the other’s cheek before unzipping his pants, with the other following suit shortly.

kaveh is a much kinder man, who treats you like glass as he presses kisses on your body as he mumbles sweet praises into your ear. he tells you how much you fit him perfectly when he slots himself inside of you, how beautiful you look underneath him, moaning when he takes you entirely, encouraging your moans that slip out of your mouth, coaxing you to go further, “tell me what you need, dear bunny.” he coos, caressing your cheek with his hand as he thrusts himself deeper into you.

alhaitham is much rougher, who treats you like the animal you are when he brings you to your peak over and over, he’ll bring you the satisfaction you deserve, despite what his other partner says, he’ll treat you as rough as you want him to go. “my, you little slut, if i had known you’d want this sooner i could’ve fucked you as hard as you want.” he grins, prodding a sensitive spot inside you that makes your legs curl around his waist.

the two of them together are like two devils in disguise, they find ways to satisfy you in unison without even giving each other more than a single glance and a nod, their two cocks pounding your hole with delicacy and toughness in one mixed setting, their ragged breaths in your ear as they mumble and moan about how you good you feel. you can hardly think, but that’s okay, you’re content being like this. your heat may be temporary, but their love for you is eternal.

ok!! i had this marinating in my inbox for a while and unfortunately for me! i am drunk off my shit writing this so this may be poorly written i am so sorry haha

[woso-dreamzzz]

Ma'am

Aitana Bonmatí x Royal!Reader

Summary: You steal your father's plane

You adjusted your sunglasses so they covered your face properly as you stepped off the plane.

Taking the private plane without permission wasn't one of your worst deeds but, with one of your brother's absolutely slammed by the public, it wasn't like you could become the least favourite child for something as small as this.

"Ma'am," One of your security detail said," Might I just say-"

"If this is a complaint about anything other than the heat, I don't want to hear it."

He chuckled. "I was going to say, ma'am, that we should hurry along to get out of this heat."

You laughed. "Good idea."

You slipped into the car, instantly kicking off your shoes and rummaging through the side compartment for a snack.

"ETA is thirty-five minutes. We've already called ahead so it should be smooth sailing from here."

"Thank god." You stretched out on the seats and stared out the window. "Did you hear back from my brother?"

"Yes, ma'am, His Royal Highness wishes you a good trip and has already informed your father that you're out on business as a favour to him."

You scoffed. "A favour for William, as if."

"Best not to shoot a gift horse in the mouth, ma'am."

You rolled your eyes, shooting off a text to Kate. "He's only doing it because he knows I'm seeing Harry soon. Honestly, the rivalry between those two is horrendous."

"I don't think I can comment on that."

You ignored him. "I mean, this tug of war is so stupid. I don't need to be bribed to know which one I prefer over them. Which is, just for the record, neither. Urgh. Men suck...No offence."

"No taken, ma'am."

You waved a hand dismissively. "You know what I mean. I think they're both trying to get me to babysit for them."

"I don't really think that they need you to babysit for them."

"It's the thought that counts." You sighed and sat up straight, shooting off another lazy text to Kate to make sure that William didn't narc on you.

The streets of Barcelona sped past you and soon you were exiting the car.

The training grounds didn't look that impressive although you were neither a football expert nor an architect so your opinion on that matter probably couldn't be trusted.

A man was stood outside, waiting for you.

"Her Royal Highness, Princess y/n of England. Ma'am, this is Joan Laporta, the president of Barcelona FC."

He dipped his head. "Your Highness, it is a pleasure to have you here."

"Pleasure to be here," You replied, shaking his hand.

He led you through the hallways, explaining everything to you even though you were half listening. You peeked in to see the men in their gym session but quickly left for the pitches to watch the women.

"As you can see, ma'am," Joan continued on," We pride ourselves on excellence here. We strive every day to be the best."

"Your women's team certainly live up to that," You replied, staring out across the pitch to the group of women running drills.

"Yes. We're very proud."

He seemed to realise that you had no interest in speaking to him anymore as he led you across the pitch to the group.

Your bodyguard cleared his throat again to announce you. "Her Royal Highness, Princess y/n of England."

You smiled in greeting, striding through the group (who parted quickly) to whom you had travelled to see. You cupped the back of her neck and drew her in for a soft kiss.

"Hola."

"Hola, amor."

Aitana drew back with a smile. "I thought you said that you were busy."

You shrugged. "I cleared my schedule. Stole Dad's plane."

"Can you do that?"

"What are they gonna do? Arrest me?"

She laughed, rolling her eyes as a hand came to rest on your hip. She leaned closer. "You kissed me in front of my teammates."

"I'm pretty sure they knew you had a girlfriend."

"Si, but not who my girlfriend was."

"We're hard launching." You shrugged again and gave her a blinding smile.

You turned that smile to her teammates, still beaming.

Many of them were in a state of shock, mouths hanging open comically. You didn't recognise any of them apart from the two English players.

You were there that day at Wembley to hand them their medals with William for the Euros and you were also there the day Lucy Bronze received her MBE.

You smiled politely at both, soaking in the warmth of Aitana's hand on your waist.

"Ma'am," Your bodyguard said, suppressing his own laughter," Perhaps we should go inside. We've been travelling all day."

"Right, yes."

You threaded your fingers through Aitana's and dragged her away, leaving the rest of the Barcelona team to scramble after you both.

Aitana lagged slightly, letting you take the lead and you could hear her whispering quietly to Keira Walsh.

"You're dating Princess y/n?" Walsh said in a hush," This isn't something that you can just spring on us."

You could picture Aitana turning red. "It just happened. We met at the semi-final game against Chelsea and hit it off."

"With a princess. Aitana, how did you manage to 'hit it off' with a member of the royal family?"

"She's quite charming." You winked. "And I was quite happy to be charmed."

Aitana's blush deepened. "I fell into her. It was very embarrassing."

"To you," You teased," I found it hilarious. Oh, what was it I said?"

Your bodyguard spoke up, his voice incredibly deadpan and dry," You said that you'd never had a girl as pretty as Miss Bonmatí fall for you like that, Ma'am."

"Oh, yes. That's what I said. Then I asked her on a date."

"And then I told you that your father wouldn't be happy if you snuck around instead of coming straight home, Ma'am."

"Which of course, I took offence to because I'm an adult and not a stupid child. So I took Aitana out and never quite let her go."

"I thought you were meant to be in London for some fancy dinner," Aitana cut in before her teammates could badger you with more questions.

"The guests cancelled, some kind of medical emergency. I nicked Dad's plane. Good surprise?"

She grinned at you, somehow shuffling closer. "Si, very good surprise."

"Great, then we're gonna get you home to pack. I've got Kate and Will covering for me and free reign of the jet. I'm thinking a few days in Greece? Or maybe Italy? We'll decide on the way."

[meowzfordayz]

valentine's day

Author’s Note: happy Valentine’s weekend. 💘

valentine’s day

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

Word Count: 900

CW: mild sexual content

~faqs~

Valentine’s Day with Kyojuro is waking up to a heartfelt text and an adorable email — even though you’re literally waking up next to him.

5:00 AM Kyojuro: Good morning my valentine! You’re very cute when you’re asleep. Is that creepy? Oh well. Sometimes you drool on my arm, and for whatever reason, it makes me want to cuddle you closer. I’m so grateful and so lucky to have you not only in my life, but in my life as my love. Thank you for being patient, supportive, and enthusiastic with me. You make every meal tastier, every outing sillier, and every moment that I find myself simply staring at you brighter and fuller. I’m going to go back to sleep now. I don’t want to start today off on the wrong foot because I got up too early! 😉❤️

Rengoku Kyojuro <rengokuflame123@gmail.com>

to me

Dear [y/n],

Thank you for being my valentine! I hope you slept well, and have an amazing day… spent with me, of course. You’re the best.

I love you,

Kyo

—

Valentine’s Day with Kyojuro is going out for brunch because the last time he tried to surprise you with pancakes in bed, you were instead jolted awake by the smoke alarm blaring. He orders a triple stack of blueberry and chocolate chip flapjacks at your favorite diner while you order waffles and hot chocolate, and he never fails to impress you by eating everything.

“Your whipped cream…”

You raise an eyebrow, “What about my whipped cream?”

With a wink, he swipes the top of your whipped cream off with his pinky, ignoring your indignant Hey! as he sucks on his finger, “Does it give you any ideas?”

“Order your own hot chocolate,” you grumble, pouting down at your mug, “You owe me more whipped cream.”

You roll your eyes at his triumph grin and vigorous nodding, arms crossing as you mutter fondly, “It’s actually unfair how attractive you are.”

“So you want more whipped cream?”

It’s impossible to miss the innuendo in Kyojuro’s question — just as it’s impossible to deny him.

“Yes!”

He orders another hot chocolate, and doesn’t take a single sip until you’ve slurped up all of his whipped cream.

—

Valentine’s Day with Kyojuro is ambling home from brunch for a cozy afternoon of fort making and movie watching, your hand almost sweating in his as you snuggle into his side.

“Would you like me to carry you?”

“Kyo, I feel like I’m gonna burst,” you groan, playfully patting your stomach, “I need to walk some of the food off.”

He can’t relate, but he pauses to chuckle and kiss your forehead nonetheless.

When you turn the corner and the front of your house comes into view, your pace slows to a stop, “Rengoku Kyojuro…”

“Hm?”

He sounds far too pleased with himself.

“What did you do?!”

He laughs, in love and unabashed as he watches you run toward the dozens of roses taking over your porch, their floral scent hanging delicate and soft in the crisp air as your bottom lip begins to tremble.

“YOU’RE CRAZY!” you shriek, giddy and overwhelmed.

“I LOVE YOU,” he shouts.

We’re gonna need a lot of vases you think to yourself as warm arms wrap themselves around your waist, your body leaning back into his embrace with familiar ease.

—

Valentine’s Day with Kyojuro is making five different types of popcorn (just salt; butter and salt; butter and brown sugar; butter, salt, and Old Bay seasoning; and butter, salt, and nutritional yeast flakes) while he constructs the pillow fort — you’re only slightly concerned by the amount of grunting, humming, and Aha!-ing coming from the living room. An hour later, you’re sitting on a mountain of cushions and blankets, the couch supporting your spine, with a canopy of pastel colored sheets and golden yellow fairy lights overhead.

“The lights are a cute addition,” you gaze upward with a dreamy sigh, “You’re my favorite architect.”

Blushing, he pecks your cheek, mouth a tad greasy from the butter.

“And you are my favorite popcorn popper. Your topping choices are delicious as ever!”

“So who gets to pick this year?” you ask, smiling to yourself as your fingers brush against his in the butter and brown sugar popcorn bowl.

“I believe I picked last year, so you can pick today!”

News flash: he always says that.

—

Valentine’s Day with Kyojuro is ordering take out for dinner, comparing each other’s fortunes and lucky numbers, and drinking chamomile tea to wash everything down. You exchange cards and little gifts (for you, a handwritten coupon for ONE FREE FULL BODY MASSAGE; for him, a cannister of whipped cream), soak your dishes in the sink, and giggle your way upstairs, unable to resist pinching his butt. He turns the tables and catches your hand, carefully maneuvering himself around on his step before silencing your giggle with a hot and pointed lick of his tongue.

“Can we not even make it to the bedroom?” he murmurs, voice thick with endearment and desire.

“We can, we can!” you gasp, gripping onto his shirt while you press a path of kisses along the side of his neck, “Come on,” you purr, biting on his earlobe with a velvety sigh, “I wanna cash in my coupon.”

You do not need to tell Kyojuro twice!

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 25

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 700

Masterlist

———————————————————————

I took a deep breath, my sweaty hand resting on the door, my mind racing. I couldn’t think straight anymore.

I lowered my hand and unlatched the door. Now open, there was no one on the other side. She must have left. Relief and disappointment swirled together. As I began to close the door, I felt a sudden resistance that made me step back.

It was Lucy's hand. She pushed her way into the room, slammed the door shut, and rushed toward me. She pinned me against the wall and kissed me deeply.

"I thought you’d never open that damn door!" she murmured, her hand sliding under my robe.

She untied the belt, parting the fabric to reveal my nakedness. She took her time looking at me, head to toe, making me blush.

"Stunning," she whispered.

I let the robe fall to the floor as I moved toward the bed. In that moment, nothing else mattered. I wanted to kiss her, to explore her body with my hands and mouth. Quickly, I stripped her of her dress and lingerie. We were skin to skin, her breasts pressing against mine.

"Ona, I’ve wanted you so much. I’ve been thinking about this all day," she said, her voice heavy with desire.

She trailed kisses down my body—from my breasts, to my hardened nipples, to my stomach, and lower still, until she reached my most intimate place. She teased my clitoris, then pleasured me with her tongue. My body was ablaze, my breathing ragged, my moans growing louder until I finally climaxed. I trembled as she moved back up to kiss me.

Now it was my turn. My hand traveled down her body, exploring every curve until I reached her wetness. I began to stroke her gently, eliciting soft moans as I kissed and bit her neck eagerly. Then, I slipped my fingers inside her, slowly at first, then faster as her moans intensified. Our foreheads pressed together, our gazes locked. I couldn’t look away from her piercing blue eyes. I wanted to watch her come undone—and she did, in a shuddering wave.

Spent, our bodies lay entwined, and we fell asleep in each other's arms without a word. Words weren’t necessary.

---

I woke at 5 a.m., my mouth dry, my head pounding lightly, my thoughts muddled. It was still dark outside. Lucy lay beside me, asleep. Lucy, Lyon, this hotel room. 

What had I done? I’d just cheated on Alessia for the first time in my life. The guilt hit me like a slap. I was ashamed of how weak I had been, of how easily I’d succumbed to Lucy’s advances. Tears welled in my eyes. I couldn’t breathe in that room anymore—I needed to leave, fast.

I dressed quickly and silently, careful not to wake Lucy. Grabbing my bag, I left the hotel. I just wanted to go home, to leave this cursed city by any means necessary. 

But it was 5 a.m., and there were no trains. It didn’t matter—I couldn’t wait. I called a taxi and negotiated the fare. We were 150 kilometers from my apartment . I would miss the morning presentation of our businesses to the CEOs, but it no longer mattered.

---

An hour and a half later, I was home. I turned off my phone, knowing Lucy would try to contact me. I hadn’t left her a note, nothing. I needed to be alone to think. 

I spent the day on my couch, lost in thought, replaying the events, crying. I hated myself. I never imagined I’d cheat on Alessia. Yet the undeniable truth was glaring: that’s exactly what I had done. We had just decided to buy a house together, Alessia had given up her dream of moving to Canada for me—and I had betrayed her like this.

The doorbell rang at 7 p.m. I didn’t want to answer it. I didn’t want to know who it was. I stayed silent.

"Ona, open this door. I know you’re in there!"

It was Lucy.

[shomixremix]

Hiii! >~< could you make march 8th head canons (what genshin men do on womens day as ur bf!) fluff! sorry English isn’t my first language but I looove your work! This is my first request I’m so nervous ^_^ !! 🌸🌸🌸

If you have time to do this could you add Kaveh, Xiao , Wanderer and Diluc? Thank you in advance <333

International women's day with them ♡︎

hii anon!! don't be nervous, you can always request anything, lovely ♡︎ thank you sm for your request!!

and english isn't my first language too hehe

also i'm so sorry if this doesn't sound like him, i'm not really used to writing for wanderer😭😭

tags: kaveh, xiao, wanderer, diluc, female!reader, fluff, implied smut (yet nothing described), kissing, international women's day, feministic themes

-> of course, your boyfriend should treat you like a goddess everyday, yet there's that one special day every march where he shows his favorite woman a special kind of treatment.

reqs open ♡︎

-> kaveh

"hi, my love!" your blonde lover chirped as you blinked your eyes open. where were you? what's happening?

"mh.. kaveh?" you ask sleepily, rubbing your eyes while you yawn, still half asleep. you can't even think before a bouquet of sumeru roses is shoved in your face.

"happy 8th of march, baby! flowers for my beautiful flower~" he teased cheesily, and you softly laugh. your arms drape around his neck, bringing him closer.

"you're so corny," you chuckle again, eyelids half-open, "but thank you"

"heh, you still love me" he smiles wide, pressing a warm peck on the tip of your nose. "c'mon now, get up, baby. we're going out today"

your eyes flutter wide open, your mouth a little agape. "out? but, don't you have work? you've spent all week complaining about that client.."

"i can take a day off" he mumbles, kissing you again. "it's been so long since I last took you on a date, anyway. now's the perfect time, hm? so come on, get up! we got a whole day's worth of dates!"

he pulls the covers of your shared bed impatiently, trying to get you to get up as fast as possible. the architect grabs your legs, dragging you out from the soft bed.

"noo, kaveh..", you try to protest, "what kinda guy are you if you don't wanna let me sleep on women's day?!"

"the kinda guy who loves his girlfriend and wants to spend time with her! now, c'mon!"

-> xiao

as an adeptus, xiao has lived long and has seen many things change over the years. one of those things are different holidays and celebrations amongs the mortals.

do not get him wrong - he absolutely agrees that all different genders should have equal rights, why wouldn't they? he's a big supporter, he even participated in marches and fights himself! he just didn't get the whole deal with flowers and chocolates.

weren't those kinds of things reserved for another confusing mortal ritual, called "valentine's day" or something?

however, all that changed once he started dating you. suddenly, he realized that kind of attention was important to you and he wanted to give it to you. he wanted you to feel loved and wanted and seen, no matter how much he didn't understand human customs.

"xiao?" you ask a little stunned as the adeptus appears before you with a Qingxin flower in his hand. "what's.. what's going on?"

"for you", he simply regards, giving you the beautiful flower, "i wish you a very joyous women's freedom day"

"aww, xiao, thank you, you shouldn't have!" you press a soft kiss on his cheek, and you could practically feel him blush.

"i simply wanted to express my gratitude and sympathy for you" he slowly continues, clearing his throat.

"this day is a celebration of the female gender, is it not? it's only right i celebrate the most important important woman in my life"

you simply melt at his words, throwing your arms around him in a warm hug. he was the most important man in your life, too.

-> wanderer

"here" he muttered, hiding his face away from you as he shoved some hand-picked flowers in your face.

"what's.. this? are you okay, hon?"

he blushed furiously as the petname rolls of your tounge, getting more and more embaressed by the second. he so badly wanted to yell at you not to call him that, yet he swallowed his words for the ocassion.

"i'm fine" he coldly said, his gaze still away from you.

"and those are flowers. flowers, for you."

"for me?" you repeat back in shock, unsure how to react to your boyfriend's sudden display of affection. he never before did something like this, so your confusion was more than understandable.

"for women's day" his usually cold voice had a slightly embaressed tone in it, which cought you off guard. "and you are a woman, so it was only logical. if you don't want them-"

"no, no!" you protest immediately, taking the flowers from his hand eagerly.

"i love them! they are so beautiful! thank you.."

you softly kiss his cheek, making him blush. he says nothing, yet he silently tangles his fingers with yours, holding your hand as the two of you stroll away.

-> diluc

"diluc? love, aren't you going to angel's share? what are you still doing home?"

you softly ask your fiancé as you decend down the stairs of the dawn winery. you're still in your nightgown, hair a little dishvelled, eyes still a little puffy. he smiles at the image of his beautiful future wife, in disbelief that he was the one to put that shiny ring on your finger.

"no, not today, my dear. i took today off to spend time with you. it is a special ocassion, after all"

"oh? a special ocasion? what are we celebrating?"

he smiles softly, looking at you with pure adoration: "it's women's day, darling. it's only right to spend my day with a woman important to me. and who could be more important than my future wife?"

your eyes lit up in excitement as you make your way down, taking his hand he held out for you. "really? we get the whole day for ourselves?"

"mhm", he hummed in agreement, grabbing you closer.

"well, i have presents first, but yeah. i thought we could go for a walk along the starfell lake... if you're not up for that, you know i don't mind staying home all day"

"presents? you really shouldn't have, diluc.." you softly chuckle in awe as you look around the large living room, noticing the many flowers and a few boxes of what looks like jewelery and sweets.

"what can i say? i love spoiling my future wife"

[monokuromuheaven]

Carlos Diehz: the unexpected star of 'Conclave', the film nominated for Oscar 2025

“It's been beyond what I expected”, confessed the actor, thrilled by the film's reception. Although he initially thought his primary audience would be over 40, word of mouth among young people has been critical to its success. “I take this all one day at a time. It's very rewarding, a very big reward,” he said.

(…)

“It was intentional that they chose someone little known so that the sense of suspicion was real both on and off the set,” he explained. “The first few times I was in the midst of the extras, they thought I was just one of the extras.... Then, when I was asked to stand in front, the others wondered why him. That was exactly what the director wanted.”

The actor's arrival on the team made him the “unexpected player,” both in fiction and in real life, which reinforced the emotional impact of his performance. However, for Diehz, “at the end of the day you can say that nothing is an accident.” “Everything can be a strategy, or fate and that discussion can be quite tasty,” he reflected.

—The most challenging scene in Conclave—

One of the most powerful scenes in Conclave occurs during a tense exchange of opinions in the auditorium, where Cardinal Benitez confronts his peers. “It was a challenge, an exercise of three, four emotional turns in a couple of minutes,” Diehz recalled. “When we rehearsed the scene, Sergio Castellitto (who plays Cardinal Tedesco), who is a very serious person, congratulated me at the end and said, 'Bravo, Bellissimo,' kiss on the cheek and all. It was a great reward. I thought, 'Okay, I did well.'”

Although Diehz does not have a traditional acting background, he says his extensive life experience and previous career as an architect provided him with valuable tools to meet the challenge. “In real life you don't get another shot. You live, you observe and learn from people, the positive, the negative, you read people's character...it's a very big benefit that a young actor can hardly have,” he explained.

The support of such greats as Ralph Fiennes, Isabella Rossellini and John Lithgow on set was also critical to his development as an actor. “Having the guidance of John and Ralph, mainly, and the emotional support of Isabella, was fantastic. To have them tell you, 'You're fine, try this, enunciate your words, you're in control of the scene every time the camera's in front of you.' To find safety in their advice was fantastic.

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