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nico-di-genova · 8 months ago

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strollonso + marriage proposal.

Genuinely, thank you so much for sending this, it is such a simple request, and yet the idea of them married has now fully consumed me.

Warnings: NSFW, they are fucking nasty style.

The thing about them is that they’ve never been normal. Not when Fernando kissed Lance for the first time post Bahrain, all sweaty and roaming hands, crowding Lance against the door of his hotel room and then standing before his father the next day saying Lance was already like family. Not when Lance went down on him for the first time, choking himself on Fernando’s cock while the man sat on the phone with his engineer discussing set-up of his car. Normal was not something that came to them easily, Lance supposed their proposal wouldn’t be any different.

He just hadn’t expected Fernando to ask him right as he was bottoming out.

Right as Lance was muffling a moan into his pillow and gripping the plush material in his hands with white knuckles.

“Marry me,” Fernando grunts, and Lance hardly hears him over the blood rushing through his ears.

He moans as Fernando thrusts with practiced ease.

“Yes or no?”

Lance cannot even follow the question. He’s too busy thinking of how Fernando’s cock feels inside him, too busy arching and pushing back for more. Fernando gives it to him, leans forward so he can rest a hand on the mattress next to Lance’s face pushed into the pillow, his other hand gripping Lance’s hip tight enough to bruise.

When Fernando begins thrusting at a brutal pace Lance lets him. He lets punched out noises fall from his lips and tangle in the sweat soaked sheets beneath them.

When he comes, it’s with the shape of Fernando’s name in his mouth.

"You did not answer,” Fernando muses afterward. Lance’s head is resting on his bare chest, his fingers threading through sweat soaked strands of jet black hair.

“Answer what?” Lance mumbles, fucked out and limp against Fernando – like a sack of potatoes Fernando had once teased, boneless and immovable. He was falling asleep, his voice groggy with the promise of it.

“Marry me,” Fernando says again, a statement instead of a question.

“Later,” Lance grumbles, curling closer to Fernando.

He is rarely the little spoon, what with the size difference between them, but his thigh slots perfectly across Fernando’s hips and his head can rest nicely beneath his chin if he maneuvers enough. He can feel Fernando’s come dripping out of him, his own drying against his stomach, but the need to give into the oblivion of sleep is stronger than the need to shower.

“But yes?” Fernando asks, to which Lance makes a noise that might have been agreement, at least he aims for that.

It’s not romantic, certainly not how Lance thought his proposal would go. For one, he did not think he would be the one proposed to. In his mind there had been an expensive trip to Bali, rose petals in the sand, a girl who he’d get down on one knee for with a prenup and a ring. But the girl never had a face, nothing distinguishable about her other than the dress she wore that would flutter in the breeze and her giggle when Lance slid the expensive rock onto her finger.

This is better, half asleep against his childhood hero with his limbs still aching from how hard the man had drilled him into the mattress. Feeling warm, content, wanted – not just for his trust fund but because he was also really good at sucking dick.

Maybe it was a self-deprecating thought. He didn’t care. He falls asleep like that, with Fernando’s fingers in his hair and wrapped in the scent of him. When he wakes, it’s to the man easing him out of the bed and into the warm bath that waits with steam rising in tendrils from the water. It’s easy to let himself be taken care of, to let Fernando massage the knots from his shoulders and clean the come from his body. Easy in the same way it is to let a nameless driver cart him around Montreal or let the rotating staff dust his frequently empty loft, different in that Fernando presses kisses to his neck, his shoulders, his spine, the crown of his head and tells him how good he was.

Lance rests his cheek against the curve of Fernando’s neck while water is poured down his back, soap lathered into his hair, whispers of praise warm against his ear. Fernando uses his own shampoo, his soap, so that Lance no longer smells of sex but of citrus and sandalwood.

Fernando doesn’t mention marriage again, but he does dress Lance in a pair of his own boxers and eases him into bed with a gentleness that Lance has learned to associate with post-coital bliss.

It’s the sun that wakes him up next, and Fernando’s hand thwacking against his face when the man shifts in his sleep. He smells of Fernando and is wearing clothes are too small for his frame, and it’s familiar. At some point, it became almost normal.

A month later he gives Fernando a ring, a silver band rimmed with a strip of carbon fiber from his own car and his name engraved in Hebrew on the inside. It matches the font that’s inked across his ribs. Hurt a hell of a lot less though and cost him significantly more. His dad’s accountant questions the amount, asks Lance if he bought a new place, and Lance just shrugs it off – says he bought a snowboard or a car or a race track just to see the way the man’s lips press into a thin line as he jots something into the books.

“I’ll marry you,” he says, when he slides the ring in its velvet box to Fernando across the table of the taco place they’re at. It comes to a rest beside the chips and salsa.

Fernando stares. There’s a stray piece of cilantro sticking to the corner of his downturned mouth.

“If, uh, if you still want me to. I’ll marry you.”

“A ring?” Fernando asks, motioning at the box with the overfilled end of the taco in his grip. A stray piece of carne asada falls, plops onto the paper lined basket beneath him.

“Yeah, it’s stupid, but you know-“

“It’s not stupid,” Fernando cuts him off, annoyance lacing his tone as he sets the taco down next to the escaped piece of meat, “Don’t say that. It’s not stupid.”

Lance blushes, ducks his head, stares down at his own untouched taco and the box that Fernando still has not reached for. There’s chip crumbs sticking to the velvet. His dad would have a conniption if he saw, the same way he did when Lance would show up to events in a suit that was too big on him with an untucked button-up peeking out from beneath the oversized fabric. His dad would hate that they were even eating here, which is maybe precisely why Lance had chosen it. Something bold, something his, something that wasn’t stamped with the Stroll name and wrapped in a pretty package.

“It’s not stupid,” Fernando repeats, “But it’s for me?”

Lance feels his palms go clammy, feels suddenly like he is getting hit by a bus. His appetite leaves him with the whoosh of breath from his lungs. They hadn’t talked about it since Fernando proposed the idea when he was balls deep inside him. When Lance was moaning his name into the pillow and choking on his own tears from the pleasure. He feels suddenly stupid, hollow, the same way he feels when reporters ask him why he bottled it into the wall on the easiest part of the circuit with condescension lacing their tone. Like they could do any fucking better.

“You- fuck.”

“Lance?”

“You didn’t mean it did you? Oh, man, uh. I’m- fuck.”

Lance doesn’t cry, at least not in public. He’s become well trained in blinking back tears and biting off the quiver in his voice that gives him away. But he comes close, feels the stinging heat of them building in the corners of his eyes and has to blink violently until his vision clears. Fernando watches him, watches as he fights against the rising tide of not good enough, stupid, never enough that rises inside him suddenly and rapidly and threatens to drown him while he swallows down the bile and sour cream taste that’s building at the back of his throat.

It takes him longer than it should to stop the shaking of his hands.

“Sorry,” he says when the world settles a little beneath his feet, when he doesn’t feel like he’s going to say something spiteful just so he can see Fernando’s expression twist with the same hurt he feels. It wouldn’t work anyway, Lance has thrown nearly every well aimed bullet Fernando’s way and they land, but they never seem to hurt.

“Let’s just- let’s just forget about it, yeah? It was a dumb thing, I don’t even-,” he reaches to grab the ring box but is halted by Fernando’s hand over his own. Fernando’s fingers wrap around his wrist, strong, sturdy, unyielding.

“Stop calling it that. Let me answer, yes?”

Lance nods, braces himself for the inevitable rejection, for the floor falling out feeling and the rush of wind in his ears and the impact of his body against the pavement. It’s not a strange feeling, to be dumped by his hero and hung out to dry, doesn’t hurt any less the second time around though. He just wishes Fernando would be mean about it, the niceties hurt more, he’d rather it just be quick – it’s what he would have expected from the man anyway – a sharp dagger to the side or the bite of a blade against his throat, not the gentle press of the knife sliding between his ribs in some false semblance of mercy.

Fernando brushes his thumb along the inside of his wrist, over his pulse point, parallel to the surgical scars left from his accident. He sometimes gets phantom twinges, the memory of a snapped bone, but nothing now. Now he just feels empty.

“I did not ask you properly,” Fernando explains, sounding, strangely, sad.

“I didn’t answer properly,” Lance counters, nodding to the box that still sits between them, unopened, next to the chips and a bottle of hot sauce like it is another spare condiment. It cost him a quarter of a million, and Lance threw it down like it was the spare jalapeno sauce the waiter had left them.

“I should have,” Fernando presses, exasperated, like he’s frustrated that Lance is not understanding him, “it’s important to me. This. Us.”

Us.

Lance feels like that twelve year-old boy standing in the Ferrari garage when he says, “I don’t understand.”

Like he’s watching the race unfold with noise muffled by the earmuffs over his head and his father’s hand heavy on his shoulder. Like he can see it all, close enough to smell the rubber and the gasoline, but far enough away that it still seems unobtainable. Fernando may as well still be in that car, separated by a screen and Lance’s idolization for all the difference it makes now.

“You want to marry me, yes? Honest. This is- this is you? Your choice?”

“Who’s else would it be?” If Lance has a gun held to his head it’s one that he hasn’t spotted yet, metal pressing against his temple, and he’s somehow mistaken it for a kiss.

Fernando’s lips press into a thin line, the curl of his lips curving further downward.

“I’m sorry, Nando.”

“Stop being sorry. You do not need to be sorry. I am sorry. How I asked, when I did, it was…wrong. I should have waited. I should have asked correctly.”

Fernando’s grip on his wrist tightens, instinctively, enough that Lance winces when it shifts something beneath the skin, and he feels the hint of pain. More of a familiar ghost than anything real. Fernando pulls away anyway, sudden, leans back in his seat and tucks his hands beneath the table like his touch has somehow burned Lance.

Slowly, Lance understands.

“Wait- you- baby did you think I wanted a proposal? Like down on one knee ‘will you marry me’, proposal?”

Fernando arches an eyebrow, “You do not?”

The floor stabilizes slightly, stops feeling like it’s going to fall out beneath him. Lance breathes and when he exhales a laugh accompanies it.

“No, Fer. Fuck no. Please no, actually.”

“But you got me a ring,” Fernando points out, points at the jewelry itself, like rings and proposals must always go hand in hand. Like they’re supposed to be the blushing bride and groom. Like there’s not a seventeen year age difference between them and their first kiss wasn’t accompanied by Fernando spitting the name ‘princess’ into his mouth like it was a slur.

Lance can’t stop laughing.

Fernando still can’t seem to find the joke.

“This is not funny.”

“It’s kind of funny.”

Funny that his boyfriend became his fiancé when he was fucking him so hard Lance probably wouldn’t have even remembered his own name. Funny that he bought a ring before they’d even discussed it when their dicks weren’t out. Funny that Lance mistook Fernando’s chivalry for abandonment. It’s funny in a way that isn’t, and so he can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of him in heaving breaths and spills across the table, the floor, the whole of the crowded restaurant. He knows what he must look like, wide grin and crinkling eyes, and the familiarity of his face nagging at the brains of those who turn to stare at him.

He doesn’t care if they recognize him, or, more realistically, Fernando. He doesn’t care and it’s one of the first times that he thinks it and realizes it’s probably true.

“Stop laughing.”

“I can’t,” Lance wheezes, “We’re both so fucking stupid.”

Fernando rolls his eyes, shifts in his seat, waits until Lance’s laughs fade into breathy little huffs and passes the time by picking at his now cold taco. Lance watches him, watches the twitch of his lips and knows Fernando is biting back laughter too.

Finally, he leans forward on his elbows and says, “I want to marry you. Of course I want to marry you.”

He pushes the ring box further along the table with an index finger, until it’s touching Fernando’s plate. The man looks from the velvet box to Lance’s finger and travels along his arm until there’s nothing between them, but the table and the chips and Lance’s name engraved in Hebrew on a solid gold band.

“Do you want to marry me?”

He doesn’t have to wait for Fernando’s answer, it comes in the darkening of the man’s expression, his pupils blowing wide with want and the way he hooks his foot around Lance’s ankle beneath the table.

“Come with me. I will show you how much I want to marry you, Lance Stroll.”

Three months later, Lance wears a matching gold band, Fernando’s name engraved across the inside and resting warm against his skin. When people ask if he’s married, always as a joke, always assuming the impossibility, he laughs and tells them yes. Fernando wears his on a gold chain tucked beneath his nomex. It is the last thing they take off before getting in their cars, the first thing they put back on when getting out.

“Mine,” Fernando will whisper to him at night, Lance’s fingers pressed to his lips and warm breath ghosting along the ring.

“Yours,” Lance will say when he loops Fernando’s chain around his index finger and pulls until the man comes to him, and there is no separation between them at all.

#file this under #another prompt that got away from me #this shit is 5 pages #I don't know short apparently #strollonso #formula 1 #fernando alonso #lance stroll #my fic #anyway them!!!#THEM!!!!#they're toxic and messy and in love!!!!#smut

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bambikisss · 2 years ago

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Birthday boy :: C.Guesung

->Summary: For Guesung's birthday, you surprise him with a trip to Bali

-> warnings: in a pool, Guesung staring at your ass and occasionally slapping it in public, unprotected sex, mentions of multiple rounds, use of oils/massage oils, picture taking

A/N: After a long wait, here is his birthday fic (and a bit early). I hope you all enjoy it! Oh and this came from this ask. Per usual, the ending lowkey sucks.

TAGLIST: @minaamhh

Song: Pillows - Lido and Santell

"Y/N! Come in here with us!"

You looked up from your phone to see your boyfriend and his siblings in the pool, holding a large ball to play pool volleyball with. "I'll join you all in a minute!" You smiled as they began a round without you, laughing when one of Guesung's nephews jumped onto his back, successfully bringing him down into the water.

Guesung always went all out when it came to you; for Christmas one year, he took you to Spain and had a small photoshoot with you there. While you traveled with him during the World Cup, he got you a large bag of cheese-its every time you entered the airport, along with a rose despite how many times you complained that you could never finish the bag and how the flowers always died. And when you couldn't join him at certain games due to work, he would video call you the minute he got back to the hotel and would fall asleep on the phone with you. He always had you in mind and wasn't afraid to spend some time and money proving it to you. Your friends always admired how far he was willing to go for you, which made you want to do the same for him, despite how many times he said that he didn't need for you to prove it to him; he knew you loved him.

So, despite his claims, you took charge of planning his birthday. You went all out; a trip to Bali with him and his family, a paradise hotel room that was on a closed-out floor so no one could bother you both, many excursions, etc. When you revealed to him what you had planned out for him, he immediately picked you up and spun you around while he kissed you, thanking you profusely. He was excited to get some time with all of his favorite people and just relax.

You finished setting up a delivery to your room set for later before you placed your phone down, watching Guesung play with his nephews before getting out of the water to make his way over to you. "Whatcha doing over here, baby?" He sat down next to you as you placed a kiss on his cheek, closing his eyes as you ran your hands through his hair. "Just planning some last-minute things, nothing to worry about."

"What else could I need when you've already done all this?" he pulled you so you sat on his lap, his cheek moving to rest on your shoulder. "I had so much fun today baby, and it's all thanks to you."

Guesung was happy to have one moment of rest with you. After arriving late last night, he spent the day being active. He went on jet skis, went on a nice boat ride, and scuba-dived; anything he had mentioned to you that he wanted to do at some point, you had made it happen. His only gripe was that he didn't get to have a moment with you as he was always surrounded by his family and his nephews were protective over you, so he wasn't allowed to kiss you or anything.

Speaking of his nephews, after noticing Guesung's absence, they quickly got out of the pool to end the moment, asking you to come to play with them. Guesung groaned as you joined them in the water, missing having you in his arms already.

After playing in the water some more, you and Guesung returned to your room to get ready for dinner. As you looked through your clothes to figure out what you wanted to wear, Guesung took a quick shower. As you picked out a dress, Guesung emerged from the shower, his towel around his waist as he leaned against the doorframe, watching you. You noticed him after a bit, turning to face him with a smile as he walked up to you, kissing you softly. "Baby, you're wet." You laughed as he tried to pull you against his wet chest, pouting as he wet your top.

"Well, when I get you alone, you'll be the one getting wet." He let his hand move to your lower back, pulling you roughly against his chest as he leaned down to kiss you softly. You smiled against his lips, playfully biting his lip, making him moan. He pouted when you moved away from him, grabbing your clothes before heading into the bathroom, sending a wink his way. It took everything In Guesung to not cancel the dinner and just have his way with you. He sighed before getting dressed, listening to you shower, promising himself to get you alone.

At dinner, he held you close, keeping his hand on your thigh as everyone ate, occasionally squeezing it. You tried to ignore it, focusing on the conversations. You did notice how much more touchy he was, asking him about it as everyone left the dinner table. Guesung didn't say anything as you both followed behind everyone, his hand that was on your lower back moving to deliver a quick smack onto your ass. When you turned to face him, he only made a small "shh" sound, sending a wink at you as he opened the door. You felt your cheeks heat up as you glanced around you, asking why he did that. "I didn't do anything, baby. I'm just enjoying my evening with you on my birthday." You gently shoved his shoulder as you walked outside, making Guesung chuckle.

Before you both could make it back to the room, his sister asked for a picture with him. You took your chance to head back to the room and hide the surprise you had delivered before changing into your swimsuit, making your way outside to the pool that was by your room.

As you removed your robe, you noticed Guesung's eyes now on you, leaning against the patio door. You decided to play into his eyes, making a show of entering the pool; swinging your hips, and slowly submerging into the pool before turning to face him. "Are you going to just watch me or come in here?"

"I was just enjoying the view first," Gueusung removed his shirt before stripping down to his briefs, getting into the pool slowly. When you were in arms reach, he pulled you close, kissing you deeply. "Why didn't you go put on your swimming trunks?'' you asked against his lips, moaning into the kiss as Guesung gripped your face, pulling you back into the kiss. You tried to push back from him to get some air, pressing your forehead against his. Despite doing all of the activities together, it was the first time that day that he had you all alone. He let his hands move to grip your hips, kissing around your jaw as the heated pool enveloped you both. When you asked him again why he didn't go change into his trunks, he only shrugged. "There's no point when I'm going to take it off in a few moments when I fuck you."

You couldn't help but moan at his words, asking what he meant, biting your lip as he chuckled darkly. "You know what I mean, baby. Or, do I have to show you?"

Guesung looked down at you with a smirk as he pinned you against the pool wall, his hands moving slowly up your arms to your swimsuit straps. He took his time as he pulled down your swimsuit straps, his eyes meeting yours as he removed it from your body, placing it onto one of the pool chairs. "You know, I've always wanted to have sex in a pool? It's been on my bucket list since forever" He kissed down your neck, tossing his briefs onto the same chair. "Well then, we'll make our way through it, huh?" You wrapped your legs around his waist as he massaged your thighs, slowly moving into you as he kissed your forehead.

He waited a minute before moving his hips, one of his hands moving to grip the side of the pool as he kissed you deeply. You let your hands move up his arms to his shoulders, closing your eyes as he moved, enjoying how his cock moved slowly as his tongue met yours. "My baby, my love," you sighed softly against his lips as his hands moved to your sides, moving faster. You continued to praise him as he moved, Guesung taking his time with you as he moved.

After he was satisfied with your praises and having you calmly in his arms, his hips sped up as he fucked you deeply. His hand moved into your hair, tugging it back as the water now splashed around you both due to the force of his hips. He leaned down to kiss your neck, moving faster as you dug your nails into his shoulder. "Get louder for me, baby. Show everyone in this hotel how well I fuck you," he groaned as you tightened around him, pulling back to make eye contact with you as he rolled his hips.

His hand slipped down to play with your clit, his hips snapping into you as he watched you come undone, groaning as he stilled his hips against yours as he came into you. He held you close as you both tried to calm down, the warm breeze coming through, reminding you both of where you were. You kissed his shoulder as you enjoyed the moment, smiling when your boyfriend did the same.

After a bit longer, he helped you get dressed before he walked with you back into the room. You had forgotten about the delivery you had ordered, smiling when you noticed the box sitting by the door. You picked it up, asking him to stay in the bathroom and not come out until you said so, which he agreed to. Guesung assumed you were setting up the bedroom for sleep, or something, but was shocked when he came out to see many candles lit around the room, and massage oils on a table by the bed as well. He turned to you, his eyes scanning over your appearance as you stood in front of him innocently wearing one of his white button-up shirts. "Welcome to your next surprise, my love."

You held your hands out, pulling him to the bed. Guesung had complained in the past about his back hurting a lot and how he wanted to get a massage but was too busy or they didn't do it right. He got onto the bed as he smiled at you, asking what was going on. "Well, you deserve a massage, right?" You straddled the backs of his legs before pouring some oil into your hands, massaging his shoulders first. He closed his eyes as you worked your magic on his back, feeling all of his tense muscles relax as you worked on them. You leaned down to place a small kiss on his shoulder blades, smiling when you noticed how much more relaxed he seemed.

"Alright, flip over." Gueusng paused at your words, carefully flipping over as he asked you why. You once again straddled him, pouring more oil onto your hands. "I gotta massage your shoulders," you carefully moved to his large shoulders, paying close attention to make sure that you got every knot. "You're magic, you know that?" he whispered softly, his thumbs rubbing your hips as he closed his eyes once more. You smiled softly, kissing him softly before moving down his body, applying kisses to his chest down to his thighs, glancing up to see your boyfriend now up on his elbows. He only bit his lip as he watched you get settled on your stomach, licking a stripe up his cock, before bobbing your head. "Well, happy birthday to me," he moaned, his hand moving into your hair. You moaned around him, watching as his abs clenched every time you moved, now glossy from the oil. He closed his eyes, relaxing even more as you sucked him off, whispering praises of how well you were doing, occasionally cursing in Korean.

You moved your hand to stroke him as he kissed and bit his thighs, chuckling when he begged for you to put your mouth back on him. Even though He was usually dominant in the bedroom, he was now under your spell as you held him in your hands, becoming putty. As your hand sped up, you noticed how his hips began to move with your hand, Guesung groaning softly that he was going to cum. You leaned forward to place him into your mouth, letting him fuck your throat as he came, his back arching before he rested against the bed. You gave him a moment to calm down as you kissed up his body, smiling down at him as he closed his eyes, panting softly. His hand moved up your body, massaging your body. "You're too good to me, baby," he whispered, opening his eyes to look up at you with a smile. His hand moved to cup your cheek before he carefully moved you so you were on your back, Guesung grabbing the oil. When you asked him what he was doing, he smirked. "Since you've been so good to me, I should at least treat you to something."

He carefully unbuttoned the shirt tossing it somewhere as he grabbed the oil once more. Instead of placing it onto his hand, he poured it onto your body, letting out a small "oops." He carefully moved his hands around your body, massaging you as he kissed you deeply. He made sure to massage your breasts, playing with them as he moved to kiss your jaw.

"Don't you think you've been good, Y/N? Don't you think you deserve a reward?" He whispered, kissing down your body as he placed your legs onto his shoulders. You nodded, letting out a small yelp when he bit your thigh. "Yes, I've been good and deserve a reward."

"Good girl, Y/N." He whispered, securing your legs around his head as he began to eat you out. He licked your clit, keeping eye contact with you as he sucked on it. You tossed your head back as he continued to eat you out, slowly pushing a finger into you, making your back arch.

Guesung took eating you out as important as if he was playing soccer; after being with you for so long, he had memorized everything about your body, and his number one mission was to have you scream his name. He curled his fingers, watching as you mewled his name loudly before his fingers began to move quickly in and out of you. He moved to sit up, leaning on his forehead above your head as his fingers moved, watching you cum on his fingers as he kissed you.

He muffled your moans, slowly removing his fingers before wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing into you slowly. You whined at your overstimulation, Guesung moving to pick you up so you were right against his chest. "One more time, baby. One more time for me," he began to slowly fuck up into you, whispering how much he loved you as he kissed your neck. You moaned softly, digging your nails into his shoulder as you rolled your hips to meet his, rolling your eyes back as he hit your spot.

He continued to whisper praises before pulling out, turning you onto your knees, and placing your hands on the headboard. He placed his hands above yours, slowly pushing back into you to meet the plush off your ass. As you moaned, tossing your head forward as he pressed his chest against your back, breathing heavily into your ear. "I know you can be louder, Y/N. Don't hold back for me, baby." He began to move his hips roughly, snapping against your ass as he fucked you. You tossed your head back to rest against his shoulder, moaning his name loudly as he left hickeys on your neck, the headboard moving to hit the wall. His hand moved to grab your breasts, using it as leverage as he moved faster, moaning as you clenched around him. Guesung slowed down, grabbing his phone that was on the nightstand, leaning close to your ear to whisper his instructions. "Say cheese, baby." He moved his phone so you both were in the frame, taking a picture of you both despite your messy appearance before his hips moved once more, leaning back to take a picture of your oil-covered ass before tossing his phone onto the bed, returning his focus to fucking you. "When people ask for pictures from my birthday trip, I'm going to show them those. Show them how pretty my girl looks when I fuck her; how pretty she looks taking the birthday boy's dick."

When you whined that you were going to cum again, he nodded, his hand slipping down to play with your clit as he kissed you, moaning softly as you came around him, pushing him over the edge as he came as well.

"Thank you, baby." He whispered, pressing kisses to your shoulder as you rested against him. He held you close, rubbing your body as he pulled out before walking to run a bath for you, picking you up and placing you into the warm water before joining you. He placed you against his chest, massaging your thighs as you relaxed against him.

After the bath, he carried you back to the bedroom, helping you get dressed before joining you laying on the bed, holding you close. "Thank you, Y/N...for everything. For the trip, for loving me, for coming with me around the world, everything..." he whispered, rubbing your back as he spoke. You looked up at him, kissing him softly before laying your head back against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. When you were close to falling asleep, he looked down at you before kissing your forehead, saying "I'll do the same thing when we get married."

You looked up at him, showing that you were awake, making him smile. "Happy Birthday, Guesung." You kissed him softly, laying back down as he moved to hover over you once more, kissing you deeply as his hands moved underneath your shirt, slowly pushing it up as his lips moved down your body. When you asked him if you both were going to be able to sleep tonight, he chuckled as he placed your legs back onto his shoulders, tossing your bottoms away. "It's not midnight yet. We're gonna go until it's no longer my Bday."

#cho gue sung #cho gue sung imagines #cho gue sung x reader #cho guesung #~bambi

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