#so i am savouring every moment i can

[mo-ok]

J . A . K . Q Covack

[usodeshou]

Current Status:

Taking turns smiling soppily at my screen and full-on gross-sobbing while watching UWMA for the first time ❤️😭

Random 3rd mood: wanting to strangle Alex (like. dude. get a clue. back tf off. 😒 <- judgy face)

[mommypieck]

⌗︙・geto promising to fuck you soft ⸜⸜・

geto is a cute little manipulator. he promises you to fuck you sofly vut when he finally gets you in his bed, he fucks your guts out.

"so good." he moans, ramming into your pussy with all he has. your bralette isn't good at hiding your boobs and that's exactly what geto doesn't want. he rips the bralette from your body, leaving you bare in front of him. he just thinks you are so beautiful. you dressed up just for him, just so he can breed your pretty pussy.

"too rough." you choke out. he's drilling into you with all he has and he doesn't even give you time to catch break. suguru promised he's gonna fuck you slowly so you can savour every moment, but you should've known from the first look. he's a player, but he has a sweet spot for you. and of course that doesn't mean he's gonna be gentle with you.

"are you gonna cum, sweetheart?" he asks you. he's confident and he knows he's gonna make you squirt. he's never had a girl like you squirt on his cock. usually only whores squirt on him, but you are his favorite nerdy girl.

you don't even have time to answer before that knot in your stomach opens up and you cum all around him. your cream drips down his cock while you squirt covers his lower half. he needs to keep going. he needs to fuck you thru your orgasm.

tears fill your eyes when he starts fucking you again, it's too much for your body. suguru has one plan now and that is to cum right inside of you. that's why he edges himself so he can cum more. he groans, filling you up with his cum. you're surprised at how much he releases as he continues cumming and cumming. finally, a last drop falls into your womb.

"look at your tummy, sweetheart. you're gonna look so full."

"i am gonna look full, i look full now already. what does it mean?" you ask him with confusion written all around your face.

"nothing, don't worry about it."

[luveline]

Hiiiiii!!!!!!! I recently got back into criminal minds and devoured all ur hotch fics like a MANIAC (you write. So unbelievably well. Im also in love w ur tasm peter stuff, you are just such a good writer thru and thru) and that one request where Jack calls reader mom for the first time really stuck w me so I was wondering if maybe I could request smth of the opposite? Like not-so-single mom!reader and hotch have been dating for a while and her lil girl calls him dad for the first time :3 🖤🖤

thank you for requesting! 💌 —your daughter calls Hotch dad for the first time. fem, 2k

“Come in, come in!” Hotch says, the door held ajar by his arm, forcing you to squeeze in and save the heat. “Quickly, honey, please, get out of the rain.” 

Sarah bursts in through the door and away from the rain, her vinyl coat covered in raindrops, her boots wet with mud. “Aaron!” she says, pulling it into something softened and excited at once, though her ‘r’s are weak, closer to ‘w’s. “I missed you.” She jumps from one foot to the other. 

He makes sure you’re safely inside before he abandons you. It’s not very kind to you, but he can’t help himself. “Sarah,” he says, without your daughter’s sweetness but heavily fond, “I missed you more, honey. How many days has it been?” 

“Four!” she says, holding up four fingers as Hotch grabs her by the waist. 

He doesn’t mind her wet coat, working an arm around and beneath her to shuck off her muddy shoes. They topple to the ground to unveil damp socks. 

“Oh, no, your socks are wet. I did all the laundry while we were waiting, I have some warm ones for you in the dryer. Should we get you out of this coat?” 

“Where’s Jack?” you ask. 

“Eating. He was starving, couldn’t wait.” 

You kick your shoes off and gather them with Sarah’s to line up by the door. Hotch takes off Sarah’s coat with some one-armed manoeuvring, aware of her smiley gaze following his every move. 

“I,” you say, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek, cold lips to his rough skin, “am gonna go to the toilet really quickly. Hi, handsome.” 

He savours your kiss and watches you go. He owes you a better greeting, he missed you just as much as he missed your girl. For now, he wipes the cold from Sarah’s cheeks and stations her comfortably on his navel. 

He loves her like his own. He’s privileged to get the opportunity, and it’s hard not to feel that low level of awe whenever she’s around, because she loves him the same way. Sarah waits for him to smile before she wraps her arms around his neck, long enough to twine her fingers in the short hair she finds there. 

It’s funny to love someone you had no hand in bringing into the world, but no less real. He’d do anything for Sarah. I miss you doesn’t cover it, but it’s a start. “I missed you,” he murmurs, not well-versed in baby talk but always willing to try for his kids. “It’s so nice to see you. Jack missed you too, should we go see him? I can change your socks.” 

He ushers her back enough to see her. She has such loving eyes, not shy at all as she nods her head. “Can you make crackers?” 

He beams. “Oooh, yes. Crackers and cheese and apple slices, I know what you want, honey. It’s ready for you in the kitchen.” 

Things weren’t easy at first for either you nor Hotch. He works too much, and you both have priorities that can’t be shifted, but the connection between you was easy. Love, undoubtedly, pretty much the moment you met, even if it scared him. He never thought he’d get a second chance and he’s not sure you thought you’d find yours either, and yet loving you has been as helpless as loving your daughter. He doesn’t have a choice and he doesn’t want one. 

In this time, you’ve found routine. He’s introduced the idea of moving in together and you’re excited for it, though concrete plans haven’t been laid. There’s a lot of questions and no need to rush into answering them yet. He has no intentions of letting you go now —Hotch will do anything it takes to keep his small family. 

Today, right now, that’s crackers. 

“Sarah!” Jack says when he sees them, jumping off of his chair to climb on top of it. He holds his hands out and Hotch leans down with a loving laugh to let his son hug her. “You’re back!” 

“I’m back,” she agrees. 

“Do you want some of my sandwiches? Daddy made me two.” 

“Yes!” she says, wiggling to be put down and given what he’s promising. 

Hotch fights to take her to the sink and wash her little hands, to her horror and whining. He says, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you gotta wash your hands before you eat.” 

He puts her in her own chair, and it is Sarah’s chair, outfitted with a big pillow so she can see the table and marked by a pink star sticker, putting a placemat in front of her. Jack quickly pushes one of his sandwiches towards her. “There you go.” 

“Thank you, Jackers,” she says. 

Hotch smiles. Despite their different interests and ages, they’re quick to get along. 

He shouldn’t pry while you’re in the bathroom, but he worries about you. “Honey?” he calls up the stairs. 

“I’m just changing!” 

“Yeah? Can you bring some socks for Sarah, please?” 

You shout back something incomprehensible. He returns to the kitchen, where Sarah looks over the chair with pleading eyes and asks, “Crackers?” a piece of lettuce stuck to her chin. 

“Ah,” he says showfully, turning to the fridge to grab the plate of crackers, sliced cheese, and apples he’d Saran wrapped an hour ago. He peels off the wrapping and places it in front of her. “Here, sweetheart. Do you want anything else? Maybe some chips?” 

She laughs and grabs a piece of apple without answering him. 

“What about you, sweetheart? Drink?” he asks Jack. 

“Yes please, daddy.” 

Hotch makes Jack a cup of orange juice and Sarah a sippy cup, hers diluted some with water. He places them down in front of the kids, crouching between their chairs, intending to stay and chat. “How’s that?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to listen for your light footsteps on the stairs.  

“Thanks, daddy,” Jack says. 

“Thank you, daddy,” Sarah echoes, reaching for him. Hotch offers his hand, startled, not quick enough to hide it. She doesn’t pay any mind to his expression, pleased to have her hand held and her big plastic plate of crackers to munch on. 

“Why’d you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” you ask, passing him Sarah’s socks, and rounding the table to stand by Jack's other side. “Hi,” you add, ruffling Jack’s hair, “look at you, gorgeous, you got your hair cut.” 

Hotch rubs Sarah’s knuckles, trying to phrase it, not sure how to tell you with the kids still there. Will Sarah feel embarrassed if he brings it up so swiftly? Will she feel like she’s done something wrong? Will you? 

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

He decides to present you with the situation. He’s not manipulative, but clever. “Mommy got your socks, too. Can we take these cold ones off, is that okay?” 

“Yes, please,” Sarah says.

You watch in confusion. Hotch gives you a quick look. Trust me for a second. 

He eases the socks off of her feet, laughs when she laughs at his tickling, even if he’s not quite sure how to feel. Happy, he gives her toes a squeeze and bunches a sock up to pull it over her heel and up to her ankle. “One,” he says, repeating the process with the same tenderness. “Two. There we go, all warm again, Sarah.” 

“Thanks, daddy.” 

You breathe in. 

Sarah puts some cheese on a cracker and offers it to Hotch, who eats it while you summon him away with silent parent talk. He kisses her forehead and wipes it clean as he goes. 

“Did she do that when I was upstairs?” you ask quietly. 

Hotch knows you. Loves you, but knows you intrinsically. He knows just by looking at you that you’re happy, but you’re worried about something, and it’s not hard to guess what it is: he might not want Sarah to call him daddy, and telling her not to might break her heart, and yours too. 

“She did.” 

“She’s never… expressed that interest to me.” 

“Sometimes they think about things more than we know.” Jack still surprises him as he did when he was a toddler.

“She just loves you,” you say. 

“I love her. She can call me whatever she wants to.” 

You hold his wrist, taking a step closer to him. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course I’m sure.” He murmurs now you’re close, ducking his head to yours, two halves of the same heart looking at one another’s hands. “I love her more than anything in the world. I want to make her crackers for the rest of my life.” Hotch puts his index finger to the soft skin under your chin. “Maybe by tomorrow she’ll forget she called me daddy and she’ll never say it again, but… I want her to. Is that okay?” he asks. 

You lean up to kiss him and you nod into his lips, which makes it hard but not impossible to kiss back. “She loves you so much,” you say quietly. You’d only wanted a quick peck. 

He might’ve said he loves her more than anything, but there’s a level on which he holds her and Jack where you sit too. He loves you. You made Sarah who she is all by yourself, and you’re so lovable standing in his reach. You’re perfect. 

Maybe he’s feeling sweet because Sarah called him daddy. 

“I think Jack confused her,” he says. 

“Maybe. You are, you know, her dad. You do everything a dad would.” 

Hotch slots his leg between yours and leans back to force you into his favourite kind of hug. You laugh slowly, hug the same, your arms sliding up over his shoulders to wrap behind his head, your hand cupping his hair. 

He closes his eyes and feels your waist. 

“You don’t have to worry,” he says. 

“I don’t worry about you and Sarah, I know you love her. I guess I just worry about us. Not that you don’t love me, Aaron.” 

“Big changes,” he guesses in a whisper. 

“Big changes.” 

He encourages you away to hold your face. He hopes that waiting with you in quiet for a while can explain it better than words. 

Your shoulders finally relax. 

[ja3yun]

Melting Point | Bonus Chapter

ice skater!sunghoon x gf!reader warnings: smut (mdni), oral (f.rec), pussy muncher hoon is back, unprotected sex, very bad descriptions about ice skating, cheesy and wholesome (not sorry one bit), not proofread, if i missed any lmk! w.c: 12k synopsis: with sunghoon and minhee competing at the winter olympics, you're in the most romantic city in the world. your nerves are strung high for both of them but your boyfriend has a surprise once everything is said and done. masterlist** a/n: hi! my melting point lovers, this is for you and only you! i hit 4k followers on this blog and i thought, what better way than give my lovely people a bc of the fic that got me my first 1k followers! plus, i missed them like crazy and i felt like this was a nice wrap to their story. as always, comments, feedback, reblogs and likes are all welcome.

** if you haven't read mp then this will probably not make sense to you but if you really wanted to, you could read it as a stand alone. this is also dedicated to 🌊 anon bc no one loves mp quite like them 🙏🏻

Kicking your feet, you sit at the edge of the hotel bed, watching your boyfriend pack the last few costume pieces into his gym bag. He looks so pretty in front of you; his dark hair is freshly cut but still long enough that some of his fringe dangles in front of his face. His body is strong and dependable, just like always, and his concentrated look adds cuteness to him despite his typical handsome charm. 

The room is filled with the quiet rustle of fabric and the faint scent of his cologne, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. Your heart swells with affection as you watch him, every detail etching itself into your memory - the ripple of his muscles under his shirt, the furrow of his brows, and the gentle way he handles even the most delicate pieces. 

"I miss you," you blurt out, the words slipping past your lips before you can stop them.

Sunghoon stops packing and looks up, his thick eyebrows raised in confusion. "Sweets, I'm standing right in front of you," he says, pointing to himself with a puzzled expression and a small, amused smile playing on his lips.

“I know, but we’ve hardly seen each other,” you begin, rising from the bed and approaching him with a slight pout. “We’ve been in the most romantic city in the world for the past four days, and I’ve seen you for a collective twenty minutes.”

Chuckling softly, Sunghoon shakes his head. “I mean, I am competing at the Olympics. That kinda requires my attention,” he explains, though the playful glint in his eyes betrays the lightness of his tone.

“I require your attention,” you counter, sulking slightly, though you’re aware of the unfairness in your complaint. He’s been relentlessly training for the biggest and final skate of his professional career, and here you are, feeling neglected because he is rightfully busy. You should be cheering him on and savouring every moment you get to spend together, especially since the competition is this afternoon.

Despite your unreasonable grumbling, Sunghoon's expression remains warm and understanding. With a gentle sigh, he pulls you into his embrace, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting your head against his chest. You can feel the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat and the slight rumble of laughter he’s holding back, a comforting vibration against your ear.

"Paris isn’t all that anyway. I mean, what is there to see anyway? Nice restaurants? The Louvre? The Wall of I Love You? Sounds awful if you ask me." The sarcasm in his voice is dripping with humour, each word teasing you softly.

You lift your head to look up at him, unable to suppress a smile at his exaggerated complaints. His eyes, filled with a mix of affection and mischief, meet yours. “You’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head but feeling your heart lighten.

Sunghoon leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “And you’re my favourite distraction,” he murmurs, his breath warm and reassuring against your skin. “But I promise, Sweets, after this competition, we’ll have all the time in the world to explore Paris. And I’ll make sure to give you all the attention you deserve.”

His eyes gleam with the love he always shows you, but there’s a subtle shadow of uncertainty behind them. Though you haven’t been able to spend much time together since arriving, you’ve been by his side for months leading up to this moment. You understand how much this means to him.

Sunghoon’s training for this prestigious event has been nothing short of gruelling. Hours upon hours spent perfecting his routines, pushing his body to its limits, and honing his skills have left little room for anything else. It was his decision to leave the competitive world of figure skating after the Winter Olympics, shifting his focus to coaching and leading a less hectic life - a choice he is content with. However, this final performance carries immense weight, and the pressure is almost suffocating. Once it’s over, he can finally breathe, but for now, his lungs and heart are trapped in a cage of nerves and anticipation.

“How are you feeling about it?” you ask softly, pressing gentle kisses over his heart, hoping to soothe the tension you know is building inside him.

“Fine,” he replies, but the tightness in his voice betrays him.

You give him a pointed stare, silently urging him to be honest with you. His facade crumbles, and he lets out a heavy sigh, nodding reluctantly. “Shitting myself. If I fuck up, I don’t have a chance to redeem myself. This is what I’ll be known for forever.”

The weight of this final performance hangs heavily on Sunghoon’s shoulders. The relentless drive to be perfect, to deliver a flawless routine, feels almost unbearable. The thought of a single misstep, a minor flaw, is paralysing. He knows that in the world of figure skating, this performance will be his legacy. The pressure to be remembered as a champion, to leave the ice with no regrets, is a relentless force pressing down on him. His heart races at the mere thought of stepping onto the ice, every nerve in his body taut with the anticipation of the moment that could define his career.

“Hey,” you say softly, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to meet your gaze. “You’ve already proven yourself time and time again. No matter what happens, you’ve achieved so much. I believe in you, and everyone who loves you believes in you too.”

He shakes his head, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “It’s not just about what I’ve done. It’s about how I finish. Everyone remembers the ending, and if I screw this up...”

“You won’t screw it up,” you interrupt gently. “You’ve worked so hard for this. You’re more prepared than anyone else out there.”

“But what if I’m not?” he asks, his voice trembling slightly. “What if I stumble, or fall, or miss a beat? This is my last chance to get it right. There are no do-overs.”

You tighten your hold on his face, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. “Listen to me, Sunghoon. You’re human. Perfection isn’t the goal, that is still the lingering words of your mum talking; it’s about doing your best and knowing you gave it everything you had. You’ve done that already. You’ve pushed beyond limits, and you’ve inspired so many people, including me.”

He closes his eyes, absorbing your words. “I’m so scared,” he admits, his vulnerability laid bare. “What if it’s not enough?”

“It is enough,” you say firmly. “You are enough. And no matter what happens, I’ll be right here, proud of you. Always.”

It’s not often you see your boyfriend doubt himself like this, not since his mum has been out of the picture and he has actually started to enjoy skating again. But you can understand why he is so nervous and self-diminishing his abilities. This is the Olympics, something that he has been dreaming about since he was a little boy. That would put a weight on anyone’s shoulder never mind it being the definitive.

You lean up and press a tender kiss to his lips, pouring all your love and reassurance into the gesture. He kisses you back, his grip on you tightening as if drawing strength from your unwavering support. When you pull back, you see a flicker of resolve in his eyes, a reminder of why he’s made it this far.

Sunghoon’s expression softens, a gentle smile spreading across his face. He nuzzles his nose against yours, a sweet and intimate gesture that makes your heart flutter. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmurs, his eyes glistening with affection as they lock onto yours.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, feeling a wave of warmth envelop you. “Well, good thing you don’t have to find out,” you reply, your voice laced with both tenderness and playful teasing.

He pulls you closer, his arms encircling you in a protective embrace, his fingers digging gently into your t-shirt. “I love you,” he whispers, his breath warm and comforting against your ear. “So freaking much, Sweets.”

“I love you too,” you murmur back, letting the words settle between you like a shared secret.

Sunghoon’s smirk suddenly makes an appearance, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Alright, but seriously,” he says, leaning back slightly to meet your gaze with a teasing glint. “Who are you rooting for to win? Me or Minhee?”

The question catches you off guard, and you blink at him in surprise. “I’m rooting for both of you, obviously!” you protest, your tone a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

Sunghoon arches an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Come on, Sweets. Let’s say the stakes are higher. Gun to your head, who takes the top podium: me or Minhee?”

You let out an exasperated sigh, swatting at his chest playfully. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? Minhee is my brother but also my client. It’s literally in my job description to root for him!”

Sunghoon chuckles, the sound resonating deeply from his chest, warm and infectious. “So, what you’re saying is, if it weren’t for your job, you’d be rooting for me?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips despite your best efforts to stay serious. “None of you will let this rivalry go, huh? It’s like you both live for these little competitions till this day.”

Shrugging, Sunghoon picks up his bag, slinging it effortlessly across his shoulder. "Old habits die hard," he replies, a sly twinkle in his eye. He reaches out and pinches your cheek gently, his touch light but affectionate. “But I’ll just say you want me to win.”

As you open your mouth to retaliate and defend yourself, he leans in and plants a quick, playful kiss on your nose. The unexpected touch makes your face flush with a delightful mix of embarrassment and affection. You blink up at him, momentarily disarmed by his endearing gesture.

Sunghoon’s grin widens, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Gotta go,” he says, stepping back with a playful wink. “Remember, I’m competing right after Minhee, so try to stick around that area so I can see you. Can’t win without my good luck charm rinkside.”

He makes his way toward the hotel door, his confident stride carrying him with an air of excitement. Just before he exits, he glances back over his shoulder, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and warmth. “I love you, Sweets.”

“I love you more, Hoon.”

_____

The moment Sunghoon walks into the changing room, he is hit by a mix of heat, sweat, and deodorant. It’s not like he isn’t used to it, every sports locker room is the same, even when he used to share it with the hockey boys at the Albion. Sunghoon is a particularly clean person, however, so the sight and scent are still disgusting to his senses.

What is a sight for sore eyes though, is his best friend Minhee sitting under his assigned peg as he ties the laces of his black, shiny skates, his facial expression serious though the task is mundane and easy to carry out. 

That’s the thing about competition day, everything is charged to 100 and even the simplest of actions can feel like a monument. And since this has been Minhee’s ambition - even competing at the Olympics never mind winning - he is feeling the pressure like he is a car under a compressor, two seconds away from being crushed scraps and thrown into the heap with the rest of the junk.

Despite that, when he hears someone approaching, he looks up to see his rival-turned-friend-turned-rival for one last day and plasters a smile on his face, hiding the tension in his frame.

“Hey, Hoon,” he greets simply, straightening up to look at him, squinting his eye slightly at the overhead light casting a heavenly glow around the skater. He doesn’t know what watt they have in Paris bulbs but he sure as hell misses the dullness of the Belmore, never complaining about the flickering yellow and burnt bulbs again.

Returning his smile, Sunghoon sits beside him, clasping a hand onto the boy's shoulder and rubbing it slightly, emitting a similar feeling to a brief massage. “Hey, Min.” 

“How is my lover this morning?” Minhee winks, enjoying the relief from Sunghoon’s hand. He knew he should have taken up the offer for Wonyoung to give him a full body massage, but he didn’t want to get too loose, or the real reason, fuck her until his alarm blared cruelly in the morning.

Shaking his head, Sunghoon retrieves his hand and sighs, running it lazily through his locks. “Shitting a brick, to be honest. You?”

Spitting out a laugh, your brother nods. “Same. Once this is over do you want to get into construction? I’m shitting enough bricks to build a mansion.”

The sarcastic notion allows Sunghoon to relax and laugh alongside his buddy, the air a little lighter with the ease of the conversation. For Sunghoon, growing up with no friends in this field meant he only had his mum to confide in, who wouldn’t even let him air his worries, stating that it created a negative mindset and would ruin his chances. So having Minhee by his side is a welcomed change.

Your brother and boyfriend have gotten so close since Nationals that you have practically become the third wheel when they are together. You understand, though; as much as you love and empathise with the gruelling training and pressure, you will never understand them the way they do one another. 

And with Minhee now crazily in love with not only your boyfriend but his girlfriend Wonyoung, it means you get to spend time with her too.  She’s been teaching you how to skate and sharing insights from her own experience managing herself, which has been incredibly helpful for your role as Minhee’s manager. You love having her around, and double dates have become some of the highlights of your life.

Unzipping his duffle, Sunghoon begins to retrieve his handmade costume, looking at it with unfiltered awe. Rina outdid herself this time, the black sheer top with black and red gemstones splattered over it in the shape of a deconstructed heart fits perfectly with his heartbreak-themed performance. You had come up with the idea to skate to a song that signifies farewell but nothing obvious like Adele or Lewis Capaldi, something that people would remember. Eventually, after listening to hours of playlists curated on Spotify, some named after ex-lovers or ‘songs to get over One Direction too’, he finally settled upon Porter Robinson’s Goodbye to a World. It’s not what he is used to, the electronic track a stark contrast to his usual melodic symphonies, but with the song signifying a bittersweet end that promises brighter days ahead, he couldn’t think of a better song.

Once your best friend and Sunghoon’s self-proclaimed stylist heard the song, she came up with this jewelled masterpiece. She felt heartache with a slice of redemption in the lyrics, hence, the heart isn’t broken or whole, it is simply there to feel how it wants to as it trails up his side and over his chest.

Minhee glances over at the top and smiles brightly. “Looks good, man. I’m going to steal her once you retire,” he jokes, but there’s a hint of seriousness in his eyes. He had already messaged Rina the moment he found out she was the one who designed the famous blue National outfit.

“I’m sure she’ll be more than willing,” Sunghoon replies fondly, hooking the top behind him. “She’s changing her final project to costume design. You can be her model. Just be prepared to give her some freebies from those new brand deals you have.”

Ever since you became Minhee’s manager, you’ve done a far better job than your mom did in her 15-plus years of managing him. Brands lined up at the door as soon as Nationals were over, eager to partner with Korea’s number one skater. The initial wave of attention was overwhelming. Your first day on the job was filled with countless emails about potential sponsors and multiple love letters asking you to play matchmaker.

But you made it clear to Minhee that these decisions were his to make. After years of your mom forcing him into deals he didn’t care about for quick cash, you insisted that he choose the ones he genuinely wanted, and you would handle the details. Being the brother you know and love, the first sponsor he accepted was Aston Martin. The promise of a new car to impress Wonyoung was too tempting to resist.

Laughing, Minhee nods in agreeance to Sunghoon’s statement, already planning to steal some cosmetics from the Black Rouge shoot he has in two weeks. 

Finishing up his laces, your brother stands and checks the stability of his skates, wobbling back and forth a few times. “I can’t believe we need to get dressed and everything just to wait around for hours,” he complains, thinking about the long wait ahead. The pair have at least 5 hours to wait before they can even take to the ice, and with no practice rink like the Nationals, it’s a waiting game.

“I know,” Sunghoon agrees, beginning to get changed, discarding his casual clothes. “Y/N was hinting at spending some time together this morning. I felt so bad leaving her when I could have taken her to that La Bossue cafe she was talking about on the plane here,” he says regrettably, sleeking his black slacks on.

If anyone understands, it’s Minhee. This is his and Wonyoung’s first holiday together, even though they’re both competing. He wants to spend time sightseeing and kissing her outside Sacré-Coeur Basilica.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he picks up one of Sunghoon’s skates and starts unhooking the strings. This is a trust that had to be rebuilt, especially after what happened between them, but it’s a gesture Minhee likes to do as a constant apology for his previous actions.

“How is my Bubs anyway?” Minhee asks, referring to you. Your absence when he woke up this morning meant he hadn’t seen you yet. It’s not very professional from a client-manager perspective, considering this is the biggest skate of his life, but he’ll let it slide since Sunghoon probably needs your presence more right now.

“Adorably clingy and beautiful as always,” Sunghoon replies, his tone filled with adoration as he recalls your pout when he said goodbye this morning.

The love painted on Sunghoon’s face makes Minhee’s expression fall into fake annoyance. The older skater pretends to gag, a running bit he does whenever you and your boyfriend get a bit too mushy for his liking.

Once Sunghoon has his sparkly costume fully on, he notices Minhee’s antics and rolls his eyes. “Oh, get over it, Min. We’ve been together for over half a year now,” he smirks, snatching his skate from Minhee.

“Don’t I know it? I’ve been stuck watching you both eat each other’s faces for the past four months,” Minhee grimaces in disgust.

“Well, I hope you haven’t been watching me eat your sis-”

“Right, that’s my cue to get the fuck out of here,” Minhee interrupts, raising his hands in mock surrender. The playful banter and easy camaraderie between the two skaters are a testament to how far they’ve come. Sunghoon's laughter fills the room, rich and genuine, a sound that brings warmth to the moment.

“I’ll meet you out there, save me a seat,” Sunghoon says, settling back onto the bench to lace up his skates. His fingers move with practised precision, threading the laces through the eyelets with ease. He glances up briefly, his eyes meeting Minhee’s, a silent communication of mutual respect and friendship.

Minhee pauses at the door, turning back with a mischievous grin. “Do you want anything from catering?” he asks, his eyebrows quirking in a playful challenge.

Sunghoon’s response is immediate. “Yeah, grab me a chocolate muffin.”

Minhee’s expression shifts to one of exaggerated horror, his eyes widening theatrically. “The ones Henrik guards with his life? You want me to die?”

A smirk tugs at the corners of Sunghoon’s mouth, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Minhee laughs a deep, infectious sound. “Give me a kiss and I’ll think about it,” he teases, leaning in with puckered lips, his face comically close to Sunghoon’s.

Sunghoon pushes him away with a playful shove, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “Get out of here, you idiot,” he chuckles, his tone filled with affectionate humour.

Minhee backs away, still laughing. “Alright, alright. I’ll see what I can do about that muffin. But if Henrik comes after me, I’m blaming you,” he says, pointing a finger at Sunghoon before disappearing out the door.

Sunghoon finishes lacing his skates, a fond smile lingering on his lips. Talking with his friend like this has helped ease some of the lingering apprehension and doubts in his mind. If Minhee can remain calm, or at least fake it, when this skate means just as much to him, then Sunghoon can do it too.

He’s going to make everyone proud out there, especially himself.

_____

You stand nervously next to Minhee, holding his hand impossibly tight as you both await his first Olympic skate. Honestly, you might be more nervous than him. For months, you have watched him batter and bruise his body attempting to perfect the hardest move in his routine—the Quadruple Lutz.

At Nationals, Minhee did the impossible and landed a quadruple Axel, a feat almost unheard of in figure skating. The moment was surreal, the entire arena holding its breath as he launched himself into the air, his body spinning at a dizzying speed. For what seemed like an eternity, he hung in the air, a blur of motion and grace. When his blades touched down on the ice with a clean, precise landing, the crowd erupted into a deafening roar. It was his greatest achievement, a moment of sheer perfection that few skaters ever reach.

Despite this triumph, Minhee knew better than to put his faith in landing it again at the Olympics. The stakes were higher, the judges more stringent, and any minor mistake could cost him dearly. The fluidity and overall performance were crucial here, and a fall on such a difficult jump could overshadow the rest of his routine. Instead, he had decided to go with the Quadruple Lutz—a move that, while safer than the quadruple Axel, was still incredibly challenging and demanding.

For months, he has landed on his ass, the echoes of his chosen song "Home" by Daughter becoming his laughing track until finally, he was able to do it with some ease. Minhee has a habit of getting his blade caught in the toe before launching, a flaw that Coach Kim has grilled him over time and time again because it is a stupid mistake that can easily be remedied.

That is what is weighing him down. He feels confident in his routine, but that one slip could be the difference between standing on a podium and leaving with his tail between his legs. Resting your head on his shoulder, you offer silent encouragement as you see one of the coordinators come over, signalling that it's almost time.

"Minhee," you whisper softly, lifting your head to meet his eyes. "I believe in you. You've worked so hard for this, and you've overcome so much. No matter what happens out there, you’re already a champion in my eyes.”

He turns his head slightly to look at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of nerves and gratitude. "Thanks, Bubs. That means a lot," he murmurs, a small, appreciative smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You squeeze his hand gently, your thumb brushing reassuringly over his knuckles. "Remember, it’s not just about the jumps. It’s about the story you tell out there. Skate like you’re sharing a piece of your heart with everyone watching. And if you get nervous, just think of Wonyoung and me cheering you on. We’re with you every step of the way."

“Y/N, you’re not gunning for my job too are you?” Coach Kim interjects with a teasing tone, poking his head from behind Minhee. You were so wrapped up in nerves you almost forgot he was there. “She’s right though, Min, performance is key here, if you think you can’t do any of the jumps, substitute it and we’ll take the deductions. They will be less than if you crash.”

Minhee takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He nods, a determined glint returning to his eyes. "I don’t need to sub, I can do everything,” he replies with arrogance but you can see the tremble in his chin as he speaks, nerves seeking their way out of his body in any way they can.

“You have been spending far too much time with Park, your cockiness is extra heightened.” Coach Kim slaps him on the back, touch lingering there for added assurance. If anyone believes in him as much as you do, it’s Coach.

The coordinator gives the final signal, and Minhee stands up, releasing your hand but not before giving it one last, firm squeeze. "See you on the other side, Bubs," he says with a wink, trying to infuse some lightness into the moment.

You watch as he heads towards the rink, feeling a mix of pride and anticipation. "Go get em’, Mini," you whisper under your breath, knowing that whatever happens, Minhee is ready to give it his all.

He steps onto the ice, and the world narrows down to the crisp sound of his skates carving through the surface and the soft, haunting melody of his chosen song filling the arena. The starting pose is simple yet powerful: Minhee stands tall and poised at the centre of the rink, his back straight and his gaze distant. His arms are extended slightly, creating a frame of elegance around him. The music begins softly, and he closes his eyes for a brief moment, drawing in the calm before the storm.

As the music swells, Minhee starts his program with a series of intricate footwork sequences. His movements are fluid and precise, every step and turn executed with grace. His body flows seamlessly from one movement to the next, the choreography reflecting a deep, emotive connection with the music. The audience is captivated by the narrative unfolding on the ice—a story told through every glide, spin, and leap.

Minhee’s first major element is a series of spins, beginning with a fast, clean camel spin. He transitions into a sit spin, his body folding gracefully as he maintains a steady, controlled rotation. The audience watches in awe as he moves effortlessly between the spins, his form perfect and his speed unbroken.

The anticipation builds as he nears the pivotal moment of his routine - the quadruple lutz. Minhee takes a deep breath, his focus sharpening as he glides toward the takeoff point.

He picks up speed, his skates slicing through the ice with powerful, rhythmic strides. As he approaches the takeoff, you can see the concentration etched on his face. The quadruple lutz requires a precise and powerful launch, and Minhee’s years of hard work have led him to this moment. He performs a deep, smooth edge before leaping into the air.

From your vantage point, the moment feels almost surreal. You can see the determination and the slight tension in his body as he completes each rotation. His landing will determine the success of this routine. As he descends, his blades graze the ice with a delicate touch. You watch with bated breath, the entire arena silent, waiting for the impact.

He lands the jump cleanly, his body absorbing the impact with a controlled grace. There is a brief pause as he glides out of the jump, his movements smooth and confident. The audience erupts into gentle applause, filling the arena. Minhee’s face lights up with a mix of relief and elation, his eyes briefly searching the crowd for a glimpse of familiar faces.

When he comes across yours, a blur due to the rapidness of your jumping, he knows he’s done enough to make you proud, which wouldn’t be hard, but it’s nice to see you buzzing with glee now that he has successfully landed his hardest move, giving him enough confidence to finish his performance with intentional but relaxed tension.

As the music reaches its climax, Minhee performs a series of intricate step sequences, his footwork sharp and precise. His movements are quick and expressive, reflecting the emotional high point of the routine. He concludes with a final pose - his arms extended, his body arching gracefully as he holds the position for a heartbeat before the music fades.

The final note lingers in the air as Minhee holds his ending pose. The arena is a sea of applause and cheers, and Minhee takes a moment to soak in the overwhelming response. He smiles, a mixture of relief and pride evident in his expression, as he skates to the edge of the rink to greet his coach and the one person who has been by his side every step of this journey.

You watch with tears of joy in your eyes as Minhee glides toward you, his performance complete. The routine has been a triumph, a testament to his dedication and skill. Whatever the final score, you know that this moment will be remembered as a defining achievement in his career. After all, he had just performed a flawless routine at the Winter Olympics.

Minhee approaches the side of the rink and his face reflects a mix of relief and exhilaration. He bends down to carefully slip on his protective blades. The clinking sound of the skates against the ice seems to punctuate the end of his extraordinary performance. Once he's secured his blades, he makes his way toward you, his steps light but purposeful.

Without a word, you rush forward and envelop him in a tight, joyous hug. The embrace is fierce and full of unspoken pride and admiration. Minhee’s arms encircle you, holding you close as he buries his face in your shoulder. For a moment, the world around you fades away, and it’s just the two of you, wrapped in a cocoon of shared triumph and emotional release.

When you finally pull back, you can see the glistening in Minhee’s eyes, his smile wider than you’ve ever seen. “You were incredible,” you whisper, brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

He grins, his eyes sparkling with happiness. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Bubs.”

“Sure you could have, you’re the Kang Minhee after all.”

“Who is nothing without the Kang Y/N,” he retorts, ruffling your hair playfully as the emotions in his body swirl and threaten to overflow through his eyes. But he holds it together, knowing that he still has to wait for the score, easily the most nervewracking part.

As the scores are about to be announced, you both sit with Coach Kim in the waiting area, hearts racing in unison. The scoreboard flickers to life, and the crowd holds its collective breath. The numbers slowly come into focus, each digit reflecting the culmination of months of hard work and dedication.

You glance at Minhee, who is watching the scoreboard with a mix of hope and anxiety. The realisation that he has done everything he possibly could, that his performance was nothing short of spectacular, brings a surge of pride and love.

The first number flashes, followed by another, and then the total score is revealed: '324.60'. The audience erupts into a thunderous roar, and you can barely contain your excitement. Minhee’s face lights up with an ecstatic grin as he takes in the numbers, a little dumbfounded to believe it.

Your eyes quickly scan the leaderboard, and you see the name Yuga Kagiyama at the top. The Japanese skater has posted an even higher score, placing him just ahead of Minhee. But Minhee’s score is nothing short of extraordinary, putting him in a close second place. The competition is fierce, but Minhee’s performance has clearly made a significant impact, and with only Sunghoon and one other skater to take to the ice, his chances of snagging an Olympic medal are high.

“You did it, Minhee!” you exclaim, hugging him tightly again, overwhelmed with pride. Your brother is about to be an Olympic medalist, something you have heard him go on and on about since you were little, and here he is achieving it with you by his side.

You and Minhee embrace, the weight of the moment sinking in. Your eyes brim with tears of joy as you hold your brother, feeling his heart pounding against yours. Coach Kim wraps an arm around both of you, his normally stern face softened by pride and emotion. The three of you stand there, on a small triumphant island amid the chaos of the cheering crowd.

Coach Kim gives Minhee a shining smile, his voice thick with emotion. "You've worked hard for this moment, Minhee. This is your victory. You've earned it with every drop of sweat and every ounce of effort."

Thankful, Minhee puts his hand on Coach Kim’s shoulder and sighs a final breath of relief, happy to have the pressure off his shoulders. "We did it, Coach," he murmurs, a smile playing on his lips. Coach Kim nods, giving Minhee a firm pat on the back, his pride evident.

After a few more moments of celebration, officials signal that it's time to move. As you're escorted towards the exit, Minhee suddenly stops and jerks his head back towards the rink.

"Sunghoon is on next," he says urgently, his eyes locking onto yours. "He’d want you there. Go be by his side."

You hesitate, looking around. "But they won't let me since I'm not part of his team." The rule is that only managers and coaches can be at the rinkside to see off and greet their skaters, and since you are none of those things, the chances of you being able to sneak back and be there for him are slim.

Minhee shakes his head, determined. "He's only got Coach Lee, trust me, he needs you there with your disgusting puppy love eyes to give him support," Minhee jokes, pushing you back the way.

You laugh despite your nerves, touched by Minhee’s playful yet sincere encouragement. "Alright, alright, I'm going!" You rush back towards the rinkside, heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anxiety. The official looks puzzled as you approach, but you quickly explain, "My boyfriend, Sunghoon, he’s on next and it’s his last ever skate before retirement and if I’m not there by his side I would be such a shit girlfriend and he would never forgive me and we would break up and then you would be responsible." 

The words tumble out your mouth at record-breaking speed, hearing the announcer already calling out your boyfriend’s name through the tannoys. You don’t mean to guilt trip the poor girl but you’re desperate and couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t try. Either this works or you will throw a tantrum until she has no choice.

Luckily, The official nods quite willingly, allowing you through. “If anyone asks, I never let you by,” she whispers in a thick Parisian accent, stepping aside to let you bolt through. With a quick thank you, you weave through the throngs of cameramen and other personnel to find Coach Lee standing with his arms crossed and face serious.

Once he sees you, his expression lightens, and he tucks you in under his arm. "Glad you made it, Kiddo," he says, his voice low. "He'll be happy to see you here. Give him an extra boost."

Sunghoon glides onto the ice, his face a perfect blend of focus and determination. The music begins, his ears infiltrated with the electronic beats as he hears every word, ready to skate his last competition and start a new life, one where you are his main focus and not the ice.

Sunghoon starts with a series of fluid crossovers, gaining speed before launching into a triple axel, landing perfectly with barely a sound on the ice. The crowd gasps and then applauds, already captivated. Without missing a beat, he transitions into a combination spin, showcasing his flexibility and control, his body a blur of movement. He looks regal out there, the gems from his top catching the light and adding another layer of beauty to it.

As the music swells, Sunghoon prepares for his next big element - a quadruple toe loop. This was difficult for him, something Coach Lee had suggested as his power move, which he spent forever perfecting, both in the rink and out. For a few weeks, he even attempted it on a trampoline to get the projection right. He was so dedicated to making this work that you feel his nerves bouncing off each glide on the ice and straight to your chest.

You hold your breath, watching as he launches into the air, rotating four times with precision before landing smoothly, his blades slicing the ice like a whisper. You resist the urge to cheer loudly, knowing it can throw him off, so instead, you settle for the audience etiquette of light applause.

He moves into a complex footwork sequence, his feet dancing in intricate patterns across the ice, each step perfectly synchronized with the music. His expression is intense, every movement telling a story of passion and struggle, triumph and heartache, beginning and end.

The middle of his routine is marked by a stunning triple lutz-triple loop combination, each jump executed with flawless technique. His body seems to defy gravity, hanging in the air for what feels like an eternity before descending gracefully back to the ice.

Sunghoon's artistry shines in the next segment, a series of choreographic elements that flow seamlessly, his arms and upper body movements expressive and emotive. He glides across the ice in deep edges, his body language conveying the emotion of the music, drawing the audience deeper into his performance.

As the final crescendo of the music approaches, he gears up for his closing element, a breathtaking quadruple salchow. He takes a deep breath, pushes off, and flies into the air, rotating perfectly before landing with strength and grace. The audience erupts in applause, unable to contain their awe at the sheer perfection of his routine.

Sunghoon finishes his performance with a dramatic final pose, the music reaching its climactic end as he holds the position, his chest heaving with effort. The arena is filled with the sound of thunderous applause and cheers, the crowd on their feet in a standing ovation.

He bows deeply to the audience, his face flushed with exhilaration. When he straightens up and turns around, his eyes immediately find yours. His expression changes instantly, his eyes widening in surprise and joy. A brilliant smile spreads across his face, mirroring the elation in your heart.

Without a moment's hesitation, Sunghoon skates over to you at speed, his movements as graceful and powerful as they were on the ice. He reaches you in what feels like no time, pulling you into his arms with a mix of laughter and tears in his eyes. It was the perfect passing-the-torch moment, leaving the ice behind to run to you and your future together.

"What are you doing here?" he questions, still trapping you in an iron grip, his voice filled with amazement and joy.

"I couldn’t not be here, it's your last skate," you explain, your voice trembling with emotion. "I had to see it up close. I had to be here for you."

His grip tightens, his head burying into the crook of your neck, grounding himself in your presence. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice breaking. "I’m so fucking happy you’re here.”

You hold him tightly, feeling the rapid thud of his heart against yours. Tears of pride and happiness stream down your face as you soak in the moment, the culmination of all his hard work and dedication. He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours, and you see the deep gratitude and love reflected in them.

"You were perfect out there," you say, your voice thick with emotion. "Every single moment was incredible. I've never been so proud of you."

“I love you like crazy,” he confesses with the same amount of passion he put into his routine. His lips find yours in a kiss filled with fervour and emotion, the world around you fading away. The noise of the crowd, the flashing cameras, and even the bright lights of the arena all dissolve into a blur as you lose yourself in the kiss.

Sunghoon's hands cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the heat and intensity of his love. The kiss deepens, each of you pouring all the emotions of the night into this singular, powerful moment. It's a kiss that speaks of triumph, of shared dreams, and of a future together that you both can see so clearly.

When you finally pull back, breathless and flushed, you rest your forehead against his, your eyes locked onto his. "I love you too, Sunghoon," you whisper, your voice full of conviction and tenderness. "More than anything."

Just then, an official approaches, reminding Sunghoon that it's time to get his score. He looks at you, a mixture of reluctance and determination in his eyes. "I have to go," he says, his voice steadying. "But meet me in the hotel lobby at 7pm? I have something planned for you,” he says ominous, a mischievous glint twinkling in his dark orbs.

You mindlessly nod, head racing to come up with conclusions to his riddle. But you know better than to try and guess what Park Sunghoon has in store, instead, you give his lips one final kiss before letting go. “I’ll be there.”

He nods, taking a deep breath as he turns towards the judging area, taking the same spot that Minhee did moments ago. He just had to get in the 310s to get bronze, which is by no means feet. But you know he secretly wants the gold, knowing that it’s the perfect icing on the cake for his career. 

You glance up at the board, nervously switching between biting the skin around your fingers and your lip. Of course, you were nervous for Minhee, but he had at least one more shot at Olympic gold, Sunghoon didn’t. That mounts immense anxiety onto your chest, hoping that he can achieve victory the way he wants.

The first number flashes on the screen, followed by another, and then the total score is revealed: "331.75." The audience erupts into a thunderous roar, the sound almost deafening.

Sunghoon's eyes widen in disbelief and joy as he takes in the numbers. 

He won…first place.

The realisation is gradual, knowing that no matter how good the next skater is, beating a score like that is near impossible, with their average being 287.20, he knows he’s secured gold. Jumping up from his seat, Coach Lee crushes him in a bone-breaking hug, lifting him so his skates are off the ground. 

“My fucking champ! I knew you could do it!” he shouts loud enough that the cameras pick it up and probably has to be bleeped to the millions of viewers on the other end, yet, you know they can probably make out how excited and proud the coach is despite the redacted words.

Laughing, Sunghoon nods, eyes roaming the area for you. He wants you to be the first thing he sets his sights on because, without you, this wouldn’t be possible. Your expression is a mix of gratification and pride, your gazes meeting as they whisper poems of love and adoration, even through the distance. 

He owes you his entire life for making him see the joy in this strenuous sport once again, and he is going to do everything in his power to repay you for it, and he has his entire life to do so.

_____

Waiting in the lobby at precisely 7pm, you anticipate the arrival of your gold medal-winning boyfriend. In the time between his victory and now, you’ve managed to doll yourself up a bit. While he and Minhee were training the past few days, you took some time to go shopping, picking up a few bits and pieces. Your brother is generous with manager fees, so you can afford to spend a little extra while you’re here.

Now, you are clad in a stunning black Krysta Tulle Mini Dress, reminiscent of the one you wore at your award ceremony back in August, but this one is a bit shorter and more revealing. Sunghoon earned it, after all, and the least he deserves is some cleavage with whatever he has planned.

Speaking of his plans, you’re still in the dark about what he has in store for you. Your mind wanders to the obvious choices like the Eiffel Tower—perhaps he’s managed to get a private dinner booking like you see in movies, or maybe the Louvre instead. Perhaps he’s planned a romantic walk across the love lock bridge; although you can’t participate and adorn the bridge with a new lock that signifies your love, it’s still romantic to see all the lovers of the past and how their stories are still shared.

Suddenly, there is a gentle tap on your shoulder. You turn around to see your boyfriend standing there, looking as handsome as ever. His hair is styled in the side parting you always liked, with that one strand curving over his face, somehow highlighting the bridge of his nose which you love so much. Those freckles mark frequent kissing spots.

You’re glad you decided to dress up because Sunghoon is wearing a fitted suit, chic and beautiful, perfectly matching the city’s aesthetic. He looks like a vision, your mind swirling with love and a hint of desire. You’re just a girl, after all—it’s only natural to see your man in a suit and the first thing you want to do is rip it off.

Sunghoon’s breath catches in his throat as he takes in the sight of you. His eyes widen, and for a moment, it’s as if the entire world falls away, leaving just the two of you standing there in the softly lit lobby. He’s always known you were beautiful, but tonight, dressed in stunning frills under the gold-hued lobby of this overly expensive hotel, you look breathtaking.

His heart pounds in his chest, and he feels a wave of emotions wash over him - pride, adoration, and a deep, overwhelming love. The dress hugs your curves perfectly, the short length showcasing your legs, and the neckline draws his eyes to your exposed collarbones and the soft swell of your cleavage. It’s alluring without being overt, and he can’t help but marvel at how effortlessly you pull off such a look.

“You look...wow,” he finally manages to say, his voice filled with awe. His eyes trace over you, taking in every detail - the confident way you hold yourself, the sparkle in your eyes that mirrors his own excitement, and how your heart is beating in synch with his. 

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I want to fuck you so bad,” he whispers, low enough that only you can hear it.

A laugh erupts from your chest before you swat him with your hand. “You are not getting out of taking me out in Paris just because you can’t keep it in your pants. You roll your eyes to convey annoyance but it’s hard to even feign being stern with him when you were thinking the exact same thing about him.

That fuck buddy sex drive you had never left once you got into a relationship, that much is evident.

“Well,” Sunghoon says, taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours, “I’m not exactly taking you out in Paris.” He turns around, leading you back the way you came from. His sheepish tone is accompanied by an apologetic look flashing across his face as he walks you towards the elevator.

“Hoonie, I swear to god, if you made me get all dressed up just to take me back to your hotel room to fuck, I will be so mad. I-,” you struggle to think of a bargaining chip in this fight. “I won’t let you eat me out ever again.”

Sunghoon stops dead in his tracks, turning to you with wide eyes and an even wider mouth, his free hand dramatically resting over his heart. “How dare you threaten to take away my favourite activity? That is cruel, so cruel, even for you.”

You can't help but laugh at his theatrics but by Sunghoon’s standards, this is actually quite tame considering the cards you have dealt. He can’t go three days without being between your legs so the punishment you would inflict by taking that away from him is worse than any torture interrogation method. 

“Well, you deserve it if you think you can just drag me back to your room.”

Smiling and slightly proud, Sunghoon resumes his position, walking you to the lift and pressing the button. “It’s not my room. It’s a surprise. Just trust me, okay?”

Of course, you do trust him, but your heart beats quicker as you realize you really have no idea what you are getting yourself into.

Stepping into the elevator, Sunghoon presses the rooftop button and you eye him curiously. “The rooftop?” you question, but before you can guess further, he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Shhh, don’t try and spoil the surprise I worked so hard for,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your neck. His lips trail soft, teasing kisses from your jawline to your collarbone, each one sending shivers down your spine.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper, a mix of adoration and desire in your tone. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and the anticipation is killing you. His hands roam gently over your back, pulling you even closer until there’s no space left between you. The warmth of his body and the intoxicating scent of his cologne make it impossible to think straight, any questions about the roof now gone.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Sunghoon reluctantly pulls away, yet a satisfied smirk sits on his lips as he leads you out onto the rooftop.

To your surprise, the usually bustling terrace is completely empty. Instead of the usual crowd, there is a single, elegantly set table for two. Soft fairy lights twinkle around the perimeter, casting a warm glow. A bottle of champagne sits chilling in an ice bucket on the table, and beyond it, the Eiffel Tower stands majestically, its lights shimmering against the night sky.

You walk forward, admiring the view of the city from this vantage point. It’s full of night tourists and young lovers who share the same depth of feelings as you and Sunghoon do. Never has a place taken your breath away. Granted, you haven’t ventured much out of your home country, but this is unlike anything you could have imagined.

Leaning over the stone balcony, you let out an almost inaudible 'whoa' and cherish the view. “Sunghoon, this is beautiful. How did you manage this?”

He chuckles, pulling out the cork of the overly-priced champagne. “I have my ways. Why would I take you to something a million and one couples do when I can give you something unique?” Sunghoon’s pouring skills leave much to be desired, the overflow of the liquid spilling onto the ground, splashing on his shoes.

Although it should slightly ruin the moment, you can’t help but tear your eyes away from the city and laugh at the less-than-aesthetic scene before you. Sunghoon looks up at you with a sorrowful expression and hands you the damp glass anyway.

“You know, I was aiming for elegance,” he says with a playful pout.

Taking the glass from him, you grin. “I’ve learned you can only do elegance when it comes to skating, it’s okay, baby.”

He relaxes, the tension easing from his shoulders as he joins you at the balcony. Together, you raise your glasses, the Eiffel Tower twinkling in the background. “To you,” he grins brightly, tilting his glass to be clinked with yours.

“To me? Shouldn’t it be to your gold medal?” you ask a little incredulously. This night should one hundred percent be about your boyfriend and his deserved win, so why on earth is he cheersing to you right now?

“My gold medal doesn’t mean anything compared to you.” Sunghoon is so sweet with his words, to the point you wonder if he came straight out of a romance novel. But knowing your boyfriend better than anyone, you have a sneaking suspicion about something, more precisely about something possibly around his neck.

Narrowing your eyes, you lower your glass and hold it close to your chest, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You’re wearing that medal right now, aren’t you?” you challenge, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

Sunghoon attempts to play it cool, shaking his head with a feigned look of innocence. “What? Me? No way. I’ve not got an ego,” he says, but the slight twitch of his lips gives him away.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. “Sunghoon, I can see right through you.”

He sighs, realizing there's no use in denying it. With a sheepish grin, he dips his hand into his shirt and pulls out the gleaming gold medal, letting it sit in the lights for a moment before tucking it back in. “Fine, you caught me,” he laughs.

You give him a weird look, your confusion evident. “Why are you wearing it under your shirt?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, a playful glint in his eyes. “What? I like the way it feels,” he admits, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “Not everyone has a gold medal.”

You shake your head in disbelief, eyes rolling as you take your first sip of the golden liquid. With the city of love sprawled out beneath you and the Eiffel Tower twinkling like a thousand stars, the moment feels perfect. Sunghoon wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer as you both gaze out at the stunning view, savouring the magic of Paris and the joy of being together.

“You know,” he begins, placing his flute down, “I also like the way you feel,” he breathes out seductively, both hands twirling you to face him. As mesmerising as the city is, the look of need in your boyfriend’s eyes trumps it all.

His hands rest on your hips, fingers gently kneading as he draws you even closer. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “How did I get so lucky?”

You smile, feeling a flutter in your chest, like a million butterflies have just escaped their cocoons and are roaming free around your ribcage. “I’m the lucky one,” you reply softly, tracing your fingers along the edge of his jaw.

Sunghoon’s eyes darken with intensity as he tilts your chin up, capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in each other’s embrace. The night air is cool against your skin, but his touch is warm, grounding you in this perfect moment.

The kiss deepens, becoming more fervent with every passing second. Your heart races as his hands roam your body, caressing and squeezing in all the right places. You clumsily place your glass down beside his, but it’s hard to concentrate because his hands are everywhere - one gripping your waist, the other sliding down to cup your ass. He pulls you closer, pressing your bodies together, his need palpable in every touch.

His mouth moves hungrily against yours, each kiss more intense than the last. You can feel his desire, his longing, in the way he devours your lips. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you can’t get enough of him and the only way to be satisfied is to crawl into his skin. His kisses trail down your jawline, nipping and sucking gently at your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

When he reaches your neck, you gasp, your head tilting back to give him better access. He takes full advantage, his lips and teeth working magic as he moves down your throat. His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you against him as he nibbles and licks at your sensitive skin. Your breath comes in short, desperate gasps, the sensations overwhelming.

Just when you think you can’t take any more, he drops to his knees in front of you. Panic flares in your chest, and you glance around, worried about being seen. “What if someone sees?” you whisper, your voice shaky with a mix of fear and excitement.

Sunghoon looks up at you, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Then I’ll make sure we put on a show,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your dress higher. The thrill of his words sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but tremble in anticipation.

He hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, pulling them to the side. The cool night air hits your exposed skin, making you shiver. But his touch is warm, his fingers gentle as they slide against your most sensitive places. He looks up at you one last time, his eyes filled with desire and mischief, before he leans in, his mouth pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss against you.

The sensation is electric, his tongue teasing and tasting, driving you wild with need. Your hands grip the stone balcony for support, your legs trembling as he works his magic. He’s relentless, his mouth and tongue working in perfect harmony.

Just like the first time he ever tasted you, he’s losing himself in your flavour, manually putting your legs around his shoulders to allow him deeper access to your dripping cunt. The juices that are leaking from your body are better than any gold medal. Each cry that passes your lips is accompanied by more of your sweetness coating his tongue.

You can’t help but grip his hair now, holding him in place as he lavishes attention on your aching clit. He savours your taste, his tongue flicking and circling with expert precision as he laps you up. Long, slow licks are interspersed with quick, teasing flicks, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He knows exactly what you need, and he gives it to you without hesitation.

Sunghoon's mouth moves with purpose, sucking gently at your clit before delving back with his tongue, exploring every inch of you. He hums against your skin, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation that has you arching your back and moaning his name. The heat builds inside you, an inferno that only he can control.

He intensifies his efforts, his tongue pressing harder, his movements more deliberate. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady as you writhe against him, completely lost in the pleasure he’s giving you, forgetting that with every mewl of his name, there is a greater risk of this entire hotel knowing what you’re up to. Your breaths come in short, ragged gasps, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you.

Finally, the tension that’s been building inside you snaps, and you cry out, your body shaking with the force of your release. Sunghoon doesn’t stop, his mouth and hands guiding you through every wave of pleasure until you’re spent, leaning back against the balcony for support. Sunghoon shoulders most of your weight as you fold in on yourself, your feet still dangling over his broad shoulders.

Sunghoon wastes no time. He gently places your feet back on the ground and rises to his full height, his eyes dark with desire. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, and you taste the remnants of your own release on his lips, mingling with the champagne. It's intoxicating, the mix of flavours and the intensity of his kiss making your head spin.

All apprehension goes out the window as you begin to undo his trousers, your fingers fumbling with the button and zipper in your eagerness. You pull out his cock, feeling its hard length throbbing in your hand. His eyes remain locked on yours, the connection between you unbreakable as you guide him to your entrance. The city lights behind him create a halo around his head, making the moment feel almost surreal.

He pushes into you slowly, and your breath hitches at the sensation. Your eyes remain focused on one another, the world around you fading into the background. The feeling of him filling you is overwhelming, the connection between your bodies electric. The city behind you twinkles in the night, a backdrop to the raw, passionate scene unfolding.

Sunghoon starts moving, his pace quickening as he finds a rhythm that makes you both gasp with pleasure. Your body responds to his every touch, your legs wrapping around his waist to allow him to reach deeper. His thrusts become faster and more desperate, the sound of skin against skin mingling with your moans and the distant hum of the city below.

"God, you feel amazing," he groans against your ear, his voice thick with desire. "I could stay inside you forever."

You grip his shoulders tighter, your nails digging into his skin as you feel the pressure building again. "Sunghoon," you whisper, your voice breathy and needy, "don't stop."

"I won't, I’ll never stop fucking you. I’ll never stop loving you," he promises, his thrusts becoming even more intense, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hands roam your back, one slipping down to squeeze your ass, the other tangling in your hair to pull your head back, giving him better access to your neck.

In a moment of heated passion, he takes his gold medal from around his neck and places it over yours, the cool metal resting against your heated skin. He uses the ribbon to pull you closer, bringing your lips together in a bruising kiss. The weight of the medal and the intensity of his gaze make you feel like the most precious thing in the world.

Leaning on the balcony behind you with your elbows, you try your hardest to jerk your hips in rhythm with his, the motion causing him to hiss into your mouth as he tip punctures your cervix a few times, giving him a taste of something more. It’s too dangerous to throw your legs over his shoulders and have you balancing on the edge, he never wants to put you in danger, so he thinks if the next best thing.

Without warning, he flips you around, pressing your front against the cool stone of the ledge. He enters you again from behind, his thrusts more intense, driven by a primal need. The contrast between the roughness of his movements and the serene beauty of the city below is stark, making the moment even more exhilarating.

You brace yourself against the balcony, your moans echoing in the night as he pounds into you with relentless enthusiasm. His hands grip your hips, guiding you back onto him with each thrust, his cock hitting deeper than ever before. The force of his movements sends shivers down your spine, your body completely surrendering to the pleasure he's giving you. The city behind you is a blur of lights and sounds, but all you can focus on is the man who is driving you to the edge once more.

Sunghoon's hands grip your hips with a possessive strength, his fingers digging in as he drives into you with a relentless pace. Each thrust is purposeful, his body moving with a precision born of passion and familiarity. His breaths come in staggered gasps, his face pressed against your shoulder, lips brushing against your skin. The rough stone of the balcony presses into your chest, adding a contrasting chill to the searing heat of his body. The city lights below seem to blur as the intensity of the moment takes over.

"I'm gonna love you until the day I die," he growls into your ear, his breath hot and needy despite the sweetness of his words. The weight of his desire is palpable, sending shivers down your spine. "I can’t wait to make you mine."

His words are a catalyst for the pleasure that courses through you, intensifying with each powerful thrust. Your body is on fire, a taut string being pulled to its limit. You can feel the pressure building to a breaking point, the sensation almost overwhelming as he keeps up his relentless rhythm. The sheer force of his movements pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

"I'm yours," you gasp, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own moans. "I’m already yours, Hoonie." Your hands grip the railing tightly, knuckles white, as you brace yourself against the force of his thrusts. The night air is cool against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the burning desire you feel.

Sunghoon’s breath becomes ragged, each inhalation coming in quick, shallow bursts. His fingers slip around your body, finding their way to your clit with a precision that makes you cry out. The touch is electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure through you with every stroke. He moves his fingers in tight, swirling motions, applying just the right amount of pressure to drive you wild.

The combination of his skilled touch and the unrelenting rhythm of his thrusts is too much to handle. Your body trembles violently as you spiral into another intense climax, the sensation causing you to scream his name into the night. The release is all-consuming, leaving you feeling as though you’re floating in a sea of pleasure.

The intensity of your release acts as a trigger for Sunghoon, who is lost in the frenzy of the moment. With a final, deep, and forceful thrust, he comes inside you, his body tensing and shuddering as his climax overtakes him. His grip on your hips tightens, his muscles flexing as he rides out his orgasm. He collapses against your back, his breathing ragged, and you can feel his warmth spread across your skin.

Both of you pant heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. The city below remains a beautiful, shimmering backdrop, but the focus of your world is now on each other. The contrast between the intensity of your passion and the serene beauty of the Parisian night is almost surreal.

Sunghoon pulls you gently against him, his lips trailing soft, tender kisses along your neck as you both come down from the high. His hands caress your sides, a soothing contrast to the earlier fervour. “I love you so much, Sweets.”

The confession passing his lips isn’t new and you’ve heard it umpteen times just today but somehow this one means a lot more than previous. Maybe it was the setting or the fact his cock is snuggly inside of you, but either way, you cherish it just like the rest.

“I love you, too, Hoonie.”

Sunghoon’s movements are gentle as he pulls out of you, his touch tender and careful. He reaches for a soft napkin from the table, using it to clean both of you with practiced, considerate strokes. The contrast between the cool fabric and the warmth of his skin creates a soothing sensation, a calming end to the intensity of your shared experience. His eyes are locked onto yours with a depth of affection that makes your heart swell. It’s a gaze so filled with love and tenderness that it feels almost surreal, as if you’re both suspended in a perfect, unblemished moment.

“This was perfect, Sunghoon,” you murmur, your voice soft and filled with genuine appreciation. The night has been magical, a blend of romance and intimate connection that feels like a dream. “Thank you.”

Sunghoon’s face lights up with a beaming smile, his eyes twinkling with an emotion so raw and pure that it almost makes you catch your breath. He shakes his head in a modest gesture, though the joy in his expression is unmistakable. “Believe it or not,” he says with a playful glint in his eye, “this wasn’t what I had planned.”

“Oh?” you reply, your curiosity piqued as you watch him with a mixture of surprise and intrigue.

With a dramatic flourish, Sunghoon reaches into the pocket of his suit and retrieves a small, elegant box. He presents it to you with a blend of excitement and nervous anticipation, his hands trembling slightly. “I have something else for you,” he says, his voice a blend of excitement and tenderness.

Your fingers tremble as you take the box from him, the weight of the moment sinking in. You open it slowly, revealing a delicate necklace with a beautiful ring attached. The ring sparkles softly in the low light, its beauty undeniable. Sunghoon’s eyes are fixed on you, his expression a mixture of hope and love.

“I wanted this day to be unforgettable,” he begins, his voice steady but emotional. “When I first saw you that day, crying in Belmore, I knew I needed to protect you from anything and everything bad in the world. I know, our start was rough and we had way too many close calls that tore us apart. But we did it, we got through it which makes me think we can really get through anything.”

He breathes out slowly, before taking his glass from earlier and downing it for dutch courage, causing you to laugh through the bubble of emotion in your throat. 

“I thought now, that everything is done and I’m not going to be Ice Prince Park Sunghoon that I need a new title and that could be Y/N Kang’s husband?” The smile grows on his face as he imagined being addressed in such a way, wearing it as a badge of honour. “So I got you this. You can wear the necklace for now, and when you’re ready to be my wife, you can take the ring off and put it on your finger.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the significance of his gesture. The necklace is elegant, the ring a symbol of commitment that transcends the ordinary. Tears of joy well up in your eyes, and you struggle to find the right words. “I don’t know what to say,” you whisper, overwhelmed by the depth of his love. “This is...it’s beautiful.”

Sunghoon’s gaze remains locked on you, his expression a blend of adoration and nervousness. He watches as you carefully lift the ring from the necklace and slide it onto your engagement finger. The fit is perfect, and as you look up at him, your smile radiates happiness and awe. “What if I’m ready now?” you ask, your voice trembling with emotion.

Sunghoon’s face softens, his eyes shimmering with tears of joy as he reaches out to cup your face in his hands. His touch is gentle and reassuring, and he leans in to press a tender kiss against your lips. “If you’re ready now,” he mumbles against your lips, his breath warm and comforting, “then I’m ready for forever.”

The world around you blurs into insignificance as you both embrace, the enormity of the moment enveloping you. The city lights below shimmer like a vast constellation, their brilliance echoing the love and joy that fills your hearts. In the perfect Parisian night, amidst the twinkling lights and the soft glow of the Eiffel Tower, you and Sunghoon stand together, united by a love that feels as boundless as the city itself. The promise of the future stretches out before you, a journey you’re ready to embark on together, hand in hand and heart to heart.

perm taglist (sorry if you didnt read the series): @immortalvee @sunpov @heeseungspookie @monstanctiny21 @strawberrysavi @diorsyun @heexzbae @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee @haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii @notevenheretbh1 @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove @heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee @xxbluestrifexx @bambangan @dollyyun @iluvikeu @deobitifull @yawnazzz @st1llm0nster @woorcve @heeseungsbm @star-hoon

[miya-rin]

“what the fuck do you two think youre doing?”

shit, you think, you didnt notice the balcony door had been slid open until you heard the voice of one of your brothers. you start to pull away from suna’s lips which earns you a small whine from his end, his grip tightens around you and honestly it its quite cute the way he is trying so hard to savour the moment. “come back later, we’re kinda busy.” the boy mutters before trying to move your face away from the distraction so that he can kiss you once more.

“suna you get your hands off of her right now, i dont give a fuck that its your birthday.” osamu pipes up, he looks furious and a little bit disgusted, if it hadnt been for the situation youre in right now you would think its kind of funny.

“samu lay off him, it was a mutual agreement, im just as guilty as he is ok?” that does not seem to help the boys understand, if anything they seem even more angry with you both.

“what the fuck do you mean it was a mutual agreement? are you two hooking up or something? yn he just turned 18 a few hours ago are you forgetting that?” atsumu says, he is rambling on with every excuse he can think of as to why this is “so wrong”, from the corner of your eye you can see suna trying so very hard to hide the grin that is creeping its way onto his face, his hands still all over you despite the fact that you arent alone anymore.

“listen, it was his birthday wish ok? i swear it didn’t mean anything,” sunas grip begins to loosen ever so slightly, “i just though it would get him off my back and get him over his little crush on me.” suna’s facial expression shifts but you choose to ignore it, you have bigger problems to deal with at the moment.

“no this is not ok, how would you feel if me or samu kissed one of your friends because it was their birthday wish?”

“that’s different, why would my friends want to kiss either of you?”

“excuse me? ill have you know that many women want to kiss me! and dont think youre getting off the hook either suna, ill make sure you never-“ you dont even want to hear the threat that is about to come out of his mouth, you just want to get out of this shitty situation.

“boys please, just give us five minutes to talk and then we will be back inside ok? i promise.” your efforts to plead with your brothers finally work.

“…fine,” atsumu mumbles, “but this better be a one time thing. im not gonna deal with you two being all lovey dovey around me.” and with that he lightly tugs on osamu’s sleeve, signalling him to walk back inside and continue the party. he closes the balcony door but not before bringing two fingers up to his eyes and then pointing them at the two of you. its a warning.

you turn back to suna and notice the sad look on his face - he looks kinda cute like this, “so, what do-“.

“did you really mean what you just said to them?” the poor boy looks heartbroken, after waiting three years to finally have a chance with the girl he loves wants the moment is ruined like that? “did you actually just do that so i would leave you alone?” his hands fully leave your body now and he takes a step back to put some distance between you two.

“well i mean sort of yeah… ive never looked at you in any way other than my brothers best friend if im going to be honest, i dont know if thats because of the age difference or what but ive never thought we could be anything.” the look of hurt is prominent on his face no matter how hard he tries to hide it, normally playful banter would have been thrown back and forth between the two of you but rintarou just stays silent, an indication that youve fucked up.

“listen suna i dont know what you want me to say, i wasnt really thinking when i said that to atsumu it just came out. i am 4 years older than you and many people would not approve of us if i decided to give you a chance.”

“who cares? i could treat you so right if you would just let me. i have waited entirely too long for this moment, all im asking for is one date.”

“you said that about the kiss too, one thing is never enough with you is it? you always need more.” a playful smile creeps onto your face which is outshined by the one on sunas, he knows that your smile means that you agree to go on a date with him.

“i really hope you arent fucking with me right now, that would be so cruel, especially on my birthday.”

“oh give the birthday excuse a rest now will you? you dont need to keep on at me you have already got what you want.”

“mhm i absolutely have,” he walks closer and once again wraps his arms around you, placing a hand under your jawbone to make you look up at him, “and i couldnt be happier.” he states as he pulls you in for a passionate kiss once more <3

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

more miguel o’hara smut bc I can't help myself

(18+ minors dni, fem!reader)

wc || 862

masterlist

-filth under the cut-

Miguel settles behind you on the bed, his chest pressing into your back as his large hand rests on your thigh. Leisurely palming over your bare skin, fingertips lightly dancing as he kisses under your ear. Slow and delicate, as if he was savouring you, taking his time with you, like he was purposely working you up. "Querida," Miguel husks behind your ear, speaking low, his cadence full of need as his fingers graze higher.

He trails light kisses over the back of your shoulder, soft suckles as his palm travels between your thighs, itching closer to your pussy. "Aw, amor," he coos, feeling how wet you were. "You want me, hm?" he whispers, barely audible, muffling against your skin. 

Not only could he feel your desperation, he could also smell it, sense it even. He could feel how badly you wanted him, how your body reacted to his gentle touch. How your breathing would hitch with every motion like you were anticipating his next move. He loved it all. He craved it.

His free hand roams up the base of your throat, firm but gentle grip, slightly squeezing as his fangs skim over the back of your neck, cautiously marking you. He rolls you over, your back flat to the mattress as he hovers over your side, his lips working along the nape of your neck, nibbling the sensitive skin.

He lifts your leg, the one closest to him, holding the back of your thigh down with his forearm as he thumbs over your clit. Watching the lust cloud your eyes. "Cariño," He faintly husks, dragging his middle finger through your slick folds, teasing you open. "So beautiful," he whispers, kissing the tip of your nose. "Keep it there," he wryly grins, nodding to your leg as he slips his hand down to his agonisingly hard cock, stroking over himself, keeping his eyes locked on yours. 

He grips around his base, slowly guiding his head towards you, pushing his tip through your folds and collecting your arousal. He eases himself into you, allowing you a moment to adjust to his girth, stretching you nice and slow. He murmurs at the warm hug-like feeling, his eyes screwing shut. "That's it," he praises, littering your cheeks in kisses, soothing you.

His hips slowly buck up and into you, filling you as his palm lays flat over your abdomen, pressing into his cock through your stomach. "I'm right there," he smirks, his tone impressed as he teases his head through your skin, palming over you. He points to the bulge. "I'm right here, querida. You're taking my dick like such a good girl... am I making my girl feel good? Hm? Making her feel all good inside?" he whispers under your ear, his words desperate and daring, somewhat taunting.

"Tell me how good I'm making you feel," he says lowly, gently squeezing into your throat as if to assert dominance. "Tell me how good,"

"So-" you say breathlessly, your words cut off by a moan.

"Is that it?" he smirks, rolling his hips into you in the way you both need. "Is that all you can say, hm?" he asks, barely audible, speaking lowly. 

He fucks you slowly, deeply, in a way so engulfing that left you gasping for air. Pleasing you in every way he knew you loved. 

He held you tight as he filled you, keeping you close, persistently hitting all of your special spots with the curve of his cock. Ruining you. "You can wait, can't you? You can be a good girl and wait for me?" he rhetorically asks, pumping into you from the side, urgent and precise. "Wait for me," his grip tightens around your throat, keeping you still so he could continue to give you what you both need. Desperately fucking you as he sloppily kisses your neck.

His hand slides to your jaw, firmly cupping it as he tilts your face towards him, his hungry lips working over yours, swallowing your pretty little cries in need. He can feel you get closer and closer, how you're holding off for him, how you're being such a good girl for him.

"Come all over my dick, querida," he says shakily, relentlessly hitting up into you. "Come around my cock,"

You clamp around him for a final time before your release, tightening and shuddering as you jerk against the mattress. "That's a good girl," he praises, softly groaning as he pulses inside you. Talking you through it. "Aw, you're doing so well," 

Within seconds he's pulsating and twitching, spilling ropes of come deep inside as he grunts, fucking you in the way he needed.

Miguel slows to a halt, leisurely winding his come into you before eventually stopping. His grip loosens around your throat, littering the marks with soft sweet kisses, comforting you as he pulls your back to his chest, keeping his cock buried inside. 

He strokes over your bare stomach, silently soothing you, rubbing slow loving circles, much different to how he was before. His arms are tight around your front as he peppers the side of your face in tender, delicate kisses. Reassuring you, whispering. "My girl."

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

[thelovehypothesis]

You ramble, but it's adorable

Ollie Bearman x fem!reader

From this request 

+1k words

a/n's: this was requested on my old account which I accidentally deleted but, hope this fic finds the person that requested it!

warnings: fluff!

summary: lost in your latest obsession, and he's completely captivated by your every word—because to Ollie, every ramble is just another reason to fall in love.

Ollie had always found it easy to get lost in the small moments—those quiet pauses between races, when the world slowed down just enough for him to savour the simplicity of life. But nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the way he felt right now, watching you animatedly explain your latest obsession.

You were sitting on the couch, knees tucked under you, eyes sparkling as you tried to unpack the complex universe that Taylor Swift had created with her "folklore" album. Your hands moved in quick gestures as you traced out what you called "the love triangle of all love triangles" between Betty, James, and August. Ollie leaned against the backrest, listening with a quiet smile, his eyes never leaving your face. 

"And then—" you continued, your voice slightly higher in pitch with excitement, "in 'Cardigan,' Betty is talking about how she loved James even after he messed everything up. But, and here's the crazy part, 'August' is from the perspective of the girl James cheated on her with!" You waved your hands in a dramatic arc. "It’s so genius because it’s like each song is a different piece of the same story. I mean, can you even imagine the emotional depth it takes to create something like that?"

Ollie chuckled softly, shaking his head just enough for you to notice but not enough to interrupt you. You barely paused, too deep in your passionate analysis of the music to stop. 

"But wait, I’m not done!" You looked at him, eyes wide. "You’ve got 'Betty' next, which is James' apology song. He’s basically trying to get Betty back after messing around with August, but you can tell he’s just a stupid kid who didn’t know what he had until he lost it!" You sighed dramatically, clutching a pillow to your chest. "It’s heartbreaking, but also like... I can't stop listening to it on repeat."

Ollie couldn't help it; his heart swelled at how much you cared about all these tiny details, how you put your whole soul into explaining it to him. He loved how your face lit up with excitement, how your voice carried the melody of your thoughts so effortlessly. And he especially loved how you didn’t care whether he knew every little detail or not—you just wanted to share it with him.

"You’re adorable, you know that?" Ollie said softly, his voice cutting through your rambling just enough to make you pause.

You blinked, thrown off for a second. "What?" 

"You ramble, but it's adorable," he repeated, this time with that signature Ollie grin that made your stomach flip. He reached out, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered near your cheek, warm and soft.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. "I’m not rambling… am I?"

"You absolutely are," Ollie teased, leaning forward so that his face was inches from yours. "But don’t stop. I like it when you talk about stuff like this. It’s like... I can see how much it means to you, and I love seeing you so happy."

You playfully swatted his arm, but your heart was beating faster, the tender warmth of his words melting away any embarrassment. "Fine," you said, narrowing your eyes in mock seriousness, "but don’t complain when I start talking about the metaphors behind the lyrics."

"I wouldn’t dream of it." He pulled you closer, his arm slipping around your waist. His eyes softened as they held yours, and for a moment, the world outside your little bubble disappeared.

The next thing you knew, his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush of affection. But then Ollie deepened it, his hand cupping the side of your face as he pulled you impossibly closer, his lips warm and insistent, making your heart race even faster. 

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, you couldn’t help but grin at him. "I think that was just a tactic to stop me from talking."

Ollie smirked, the mischievous glint in his eyes impossible to ignore. "Maybe," he admitted, his thumb grazing your lower lip, "but it worked, didn’t it?"

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny that you were already melting under his touch. He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing you in as if you were the most precious thing in the world. 

"Seriously though," Ollie murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "I love listening to you talk. About Taylor Swift, about racing, about whatever it is that’s on your mind. You’re just so… passionate about everything, and it makes me love you even more."

The way he said it, so effortlessly, like it was the most natural thing in the world, made your heart skip a beat. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close again, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

"You’re too sweet, Ollie," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

He chuckled lightly, his arms tightening around you. "Only for you."

For a while, you both stayed like that—curled up in each other’s arms, the TV flickering in the background, the weight of the world outside fading away. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, but you didn’t care. All you knew was that this moment, with him holding you so gently, was exactly where you wanted to be.

After a while, you shifted slightly, tilting your head up to look at him again. "Okay, but I’m serious about that love triangle. You have to admit it’s pretty genius, right?"

Ollie smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before nodding. "It’s genius," he agreed, even though he barely understood half of what you were saying. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way your eyes lit up, the way your voice danced with excitement. And if listening to Taylor Swift conspiracies made you this happy, then he would listen to every single one.

"Thanks for putting up with my rambling," you said, your voice softening.

Ollie smiled, brushing his lips against yours once more. "It’s not putting up with anything. I love it, and I love you."

And with that, he kissed you again—soft, sweet, and full of love. The kind of kiss that felt like home. The kind that made you feel like no matter what you rambled about, he would always be there to listen, to smile, and to love you through it all.

---The End---

-Lots of love, Em.

[grandline-fics]

Hiiiiii

I am absolutely smitten and in love with your work omg

Can I request a Mihawk x F!reader where both of them are just chilling and reading books while each of them steal glances of love and admiration from the other without knowing, and mihawk showing his soft side admiring his love leading to them eventually locking gazes its all fluff and cuteness ifk I just crave fluff with this man 😓

DESCRIPTION: Stealing glances with the other until caught

WARNINGS: fluff

CHARACTERS: Mihawk

WORDS: 642

A/N: Thank you for the fluff request with Mihawk! It's something on the shorter side but I hope you're happy with what I managed to come up for this.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

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Mihawk is no stranger to silence. If anything he’d view it as a friend. It’s calming for him to sit and be at peace and revel in the stillness when the noise of the day has finally subsided and he can retreat into his sanctuary. The silence was easier to obtain before Cross Guild’s founding but in a way it was so much more rewarding to get it now. Because now, the silence also comes with added indulgences he never got to experience when completely alone. From the other end of the sofa he heard the soft turn of a page. His sharp gaze subtly flickered away from the book in his hand, his attention stolen by you once more. Mihawk had lost count how many times through the course of the quiet evening that he’d looked your way without your notice. 

There you sat, your back against the armrest and feet tucked underneath you. Your eyes slowly roved over the words in your book, lips curved ever so slightly as you let yourself become immersed in the story. It didn’t matter how many times a day Mihawk looked your way, whether in keeping eye contact with you through conversations and stolen glances like these the reaction was always the same; his usually cold and piercing stare was softened and warmed as he took in every little detail in your features and expression, just taking all he could of you and your presence. Mihawk had never thought such a thing would happen for him and for every day you’re with him, even in the calm silence, he drew every possible moment he could and savoured it like the finest wine. Quickly he dropped his gaze back to his own book, his need to steal a look at you sated for another while. 

The minutes passed and you slowly dragged your attention away from your book when Mihawk stretched out to prop his feet up on the end of the coffee table in front of the sofa you were both sharing. Carefully you looked him over with a growing smile, unable and unwilling to stop how happy you became each time you glanced at him. Even moments like this were so precious to you, neither you or Mihawk needed to be talking to get the most out of your time together and you counted yourself lucky because very few you knew had yet to experience that sort of security and peace for themselves. Especially in the constant chaos of the Big Top, it was no easy feat but you and Mihawk always found a way.

Suddenly you paused when Mihawk’s stunning gaze flickered out at the corner of his eye and locked on yours. From the way he blinked and slowly turned his head to look at you, it seemed he hadn’t expected to find you staring at him. Mihawk’s lips turned up in a small but still powerful smile while you beamed at him, the butterflies in your stomach that never seemed to leave even after all your time together fluttering gently.

Mihawk’s position on the sofa shifted slightly, his body turned just enough to face you while his arm set itself on the back of the seat in an invitation for you to come closer. You wasted no time in drawing yourself closer to now prop your back against his waiting side and stretch your legs out towards the cushion you’d previously been sitting on. When you were settled, Mihawk dropped his hand to rest it loosely against your side. With a content sight you opened your book again and began reading while Mihawk did the same while lightly resting his chin against the crown of your head. Now in this position it meant that if either of you were to try and steal a glance the other would know instantly.

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TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa

[joocomics]

ಬ made in heaven

pairing: dj!jiung x fem!reader

genre: smut — mdni! wc: 1.4k

contains: strangers to lovers trope, car sex, light sub/dom dynamics, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, restraints (handcuffs), voice kink, jiung uses a cheesy pick up line as reader wears an angel costume for halloween and it works

a/n: this was supposed to come out yesterday (10/07), but i was exhausted from work and completely forgot to post it >< happy belated birthday jiung, your blue era will never be forgotten ♡

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

You turn around to see exactly the face you've been wishing to get the chance to see up close. It's been a while since you saw him for the last time and you're surprised to realise that you haven't forgotten his face at all.

It's not just his captivating blue hair that still keeps you intrigued, it's everything about him.

“You’ve probably heard this multiple times tonight already,” he chuckles as the corners of his lips slide up nervously, “sorry.”

You smile back, pleased to see him flustered. As you both allow your gazes to drag up the other’s body, your head tilts to the side playfully.

“Your name?”

Of course, you know his name already. But you don't want him to ever find out that you've asked around about him, or that you stalked his Instagram account the same night you saw him play for the very first time at this exact club you are right now.

“Jiung.”

“Jiung,” you repeat his name like it’s something you can taste on your tongue, “so you don't use a special DJ name or anything like that?”

“No,” he shakes his head; the charming smile doesn't leave his face, “I'm Jiung here as much as I am outside this club. What's your name?”

“I liked your set, Jiung.” Well, you always do. There are a few reasons why you continue to come here with your friends, and one of them definitely has to do with the addictive effects his seamless selections of tracks have on your body. “I’m Y/N.”

“And I enjoyed watching you have fun to it, Y/N.” He makes a quick pause before speaking out your name as he feels lucky to be able to know it. He wants to savour each letter.

The way you danced earlier with your friends caused him to keep glancing up at your silhouette as if you're some sort of a celestial vision. The way your body swayed rhythmically to the music kept distracting him not only because your sexy white dress with small shimmering wings undeniably stood out in the colorful crowd with blazing lights, but also because you've stolen his attention few times before already and he remembers you. He couldn’t help, but notice the way your eyes searched for him too.

“You've been watching me?”

Your bodies move closer. The techno beats which keep on booming intensely in the thick air isn't the only thing bringing you closer though.

You pick up on the way his eyes explore your face like they've been waiting for the proper moment to do so. There's a lustful spark in them that holds onto your gaze and you feel your excited heart come to a halt beneath your dress.

Jiung's lips curl flirtatiously as he’s about to answer and the sight floods your veins with adrenaline rush.

“I think it's impossible not to spot a beautiful angel like you.” His attention goes to your lips as they part slightly in surprise. “I notice you every time.”

At that moment, you both realise that neither of you wants to stay in this crowded club anymore. You both crave some privacy, and it’s time for you to say goodbye to your friends.

You didn't expect for things to escalate so quickly like this; for this Halloween party to suddenly lead you to Jiung’s car where he helps you adjust on his lap, pressing you down harder and groaning into your neck from how nice it feels to have you melting in his embrace.

“You're so gorgeous,” he whispers at your ear before continuing to nibble on your skin. Every time he speaks he sounds as if he's intoxicated, but he's completly sober. “Where have you been all this time?”

For some reason your divine costume of an angel only turns him on even more, and he can't stop roaming his hands along the fabric of your simple, but yet pretty dress that's hugging your curves perfectly, and your fishnet stockings - they occasionally tempt him to look down as his fingertips curiously sneak through them, but soon enough he loses patience and asks almost out of breath from your long kisses:

“Can I?”

And once you nod, because you’re unable to form proper sentences at the moment, with one swift move Jiung rips them off, exposing your panties.

You drag the dress up at your waist before shutting your eyes closed at the sudden, but delightful contact of his fingers against your clit. Needy sounds already start escaping your throat as he maintains circling motions at the right spot meanwhile your one hand keeps your panties to one side, not wanting him to stop even for a second.

“You sound so pretty, angel…” He utters before pressing an open mouthed kiss against your collarbone. “Don’t stop, baby.”

Your skin warms up more and more with each word he says; with each following touch of his gentle lips that travel along your cleavage. And his voice… it spreads so captivatingly in the silence to the point the warm knot of arousal doubles in your body just by the sound of it.

“Right there,” you plead as the fingers of your one hand run through his vibrantly blue hair; the other is pressed against the car window, keeping you steady.

Jiung would love to keep savouring the nice feeling of your pussy, but your rising moans turn him eager to feel you other ways. He slowly retrieves his hand and kisses your neck one last time before leaning back to unzip his pants.

As you anticipate the moment with dazed eyes and racing heartbeat, your attention moves to the right seat next to you. It’s empty except the pair of handcuffs that’s left there.

You look at Jiung questionably as you pick them up.

“I was going to be dressed up like a cop for one of my friends’ parties.” He explains, meeting your sparkling eyes. Your little halo is tilted, he notices.

“I think I’ll wear them better.” A sly smile appears on your lips as you lean in to whisper: “Handcuff me.”

“Why?” Jiung asks playfully; his tone is soft, but in the most erotic way. “You’ve been such a good angel.”

And he’s right, but he does it anyway.

You tell him you can get naughty when you’re impatient meanwhile he simply likes the look of your wrists restrained together and dangling at his chest as you bounce up and down.

Your fingers clench desperately at Jiung’s hoodie at the same time as his own sink into your hips wanting to support your movements; to keep up the nice pace that has you both panting in sync as he bumps into your sweet spot again and again.

“Fuck—“ You mewl when your walls grip onto his cock harder as the firm grip on your body shifts around your waist. “I’m gonna cum,” you utter breathlessly. The way you fall back down starts to look and sound sloppy, but nonetheless eager to reach your peak.

Jiung’s hands go beneath your ass to hold you tighter. “Stay like this for me, angel,” he asks, as now his hips do the rest of the work. The sudden relentless slamming results into your mind going completely numb as you stay still with your muscles tensing from the thrill.

The lewd sharp sounds of his hips flying up to crash repeatedly into you fill the dark small space. Your heavy breaths turn the windows around you even foggier every time they melt into each other until they elevate into one blissful wailing the moment your thighs begin to shake as the climax washes over you.

The intense warmth floods your body in one strong wave, electrifying every part of you as Jiung pulls out in a hurry to release onto your stomach.

You lean back, staring down at the white ropes of arousal marking your skin. Jiung’s voice quietly shakes as his mouth hangs open in delight; the tight fist around his length gradually calms down.

“You have a pretty voice,” you speak up first after he looks up in search for your eyes. Your words come out much more mellow now as you normalise your breathing. “Have you ever thought about a singing career?”

“I don’t think so,” he admits through a chuckle.

That’s the last thing he expected to hear from you in a moment like this. He stares at you with an obvious intrigue as you smile, running your hands up and down his chest.

“Well, you should consider it. I don’t need to hear you sing to know you have it in you.”

The truth is, Jiung kind of made up that answer. He often sings not only in his head, but also out loud, as he walks around his apartment, doing different mundane things… but he’s fully aware you already know he just lied to you.

His hands stroke your thighs as they still keep him down. The noise the metal handcuffs create around your wrists rings in the heavy air with lustful aroma.

“I will.” He nods, fixating his lazy gaze back on yours. “You can be my muse. Every artist has one. Right, angel?”

Is this his way to ask if he’s going to see you again, you wonder…

The answer to both is yes.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[whoreforwonwoo]

I'll make it up to you!

MDNI

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You were in the bedroom waiting for your boyfriend to come home. It had been almost 3 hours since he said that he would be home, but he never came. You weren't angry, because you knew how hard his job can be and he had to work long hours just to satisfy his fans needs, and you admired that about him. That's why today, when Wonu said that he would we working late, you didn't say anything despite feeling lonely. You just put on a movie and fell asleep without him.

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

Around 2 am you woke up to noises coming from the bathroom. Getting up, you see your boyfriend having a towel around his neck abs shown and hair wet. He looked at you and sighed.

"I'm sorry I woke you up ."he said apologetically and came over to kiss you on the forehead. You shook your head and said its fine and that you were used to it. That made him pout and hug you tightly. You were pressed against his abs and chest, that made your cheeks warm up and you hugged his neck tightly brushing and stroking his wet hair slightly. Suddenly you felt a warm kiss on your neck followed by a small moan from wonu. You chuckled a little, knowing how much he missed you and you missed him. It had almost been 2 weeks since you guys had last had sex and it was driving both of you crazy just because you couldn't feel each other.

Wonu pulled you back so now you guys were face to face and staring into each others eyes. The tension growing and the need to feel each other too. Wonu pulled you head closer to him and kissed you deeply savouring you. You moaned his name into his tongue and both of you started to make out. He pushed his tongue past your lips and explored your mouth all while trying to take off your clothes. When it didn't come off, he grew frustrated and clicked his tongue loudly. You giggled a little and helped him take off your clothes, then he took off his and continued to kiss you. When he broke the kiss, there was a string of saliva connecting both of your tongues. You blushed at that moment which made him chuckle lightly.

Wonu pulled his dick out and stroked it a few times. "I guess I have to make it up to you huh" he leaned over and kissed your forehead. You squeezed his arm tightly wanting and needing the feeling of him inside you. Suddenly, you felt a finger of his going inside that made you choke up on a moan. "Gotta prep my baby first. So tight for me." You moaned and whined into his ear making him harder and harder by every second. Just before you were going to cum, he pulled his finger out. "You can only cum on my cock pretty girl" he said before thrusting his dick inside you. You gasped out loudly and hugged him tightly scratching his back furiously. He groaned lightly and started thrusting in and out of you in a slow and lovely pace. You loved it when he made love to you, on lonely nights like today it was just the best thing that could have happened to you. You cupped his face tightly making him look into your pretty eyes. "I love you soo much Wonu~" the last word coming out as a moan. He kissed your cheeks and then your forehead then he gave a peck to your lips. "I love you too baby" he said gently crassing your hair. His thrust were becoming sloppier and you knew that he was going to cum. You closed your eyes and felt the feeling of him inside you which made you lose control over your body and cum. You cried out loudly digging your nails into his back and shutting your eyes closed. He gave you last two thrust before cumming as well. He buried his face in your neck and groaned loudly as you both came.

You two stayed like that for awhile and all you could hear were your pants and his soft groans, he was on top off your chest which gave you access to play with his hair.

"I'm sorry Y/n." He sighed " I should've stayed at home after my tour to spend time with you" he pouted. You giggled and patted his head, " it's okay Wonu, I understand your job and I'm perfectly fine with you not coming home time to time, it's just that sometimes it gets lonely and sad." You hugged his head tightly and smelled his hair, God it smelled so good. After sometime, he got up and went to the bathroom to get some warm towels to clean you up. After that you two watched a movie together and eventually, you fell asleep. He caressed your head and kissed your forehead. "I love you so much, I promise I'll spend more time with you"

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

Omg my first fic I hope you guys rlly like it. I'll start writing more heheheheheh thank you for supporting me luv yaaa♡♡♡!!

[simplygojo]

Let's Play A Game...

Prompt: “Lets play a game; don’t get caught”

Authors Note: I have not written something like this in a WHILE. This was requested/suggested on one of the prompt lists I reblogged by @smsm22. Thank you for requesting thissss, I needed a little push so I hope you like it.

I did struggle a bit but I think this is a good little blurb to re-introduce me to writing smut, haha!!! I am sorry because I do feel like this could be better, but this is the best I can do right now, I will improve on my smut writing asap, 🫡 .

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x f/reader

Word Count : 1K

Warnings : 18+ ONLY!! Power Dynamics, Smut

The cursed energy in the air was suffocating, thick and dark as Ryomen Sukuna’s voice echoed through the shadowed temple halls. You could feel him before you even saw him—his presence coiling around you like a predator toying with prey.

“Let’s play a game,” Sukuna’s voice slithered into the silence, his tone dripping with amusement. His form materialized from the darkness, crimson eyes glowing with a sinister light. A mocking grin curled his lips as he stalked forward, each step slow, deliberate. “The rules are simple: don’t get caught.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering in your chest. You never thought this was a situation you’d be in. You had heard about the king of curses before, but never thought you’d be this involved. 

The sheer intensity of his gaze pinned you in place, but instinct kicked in—survival. You forced your feet to move, bolting down the stone corridor of his own domain, your movements frantic but silent. You knew this game was stacked against you. Outrunning Ryomen Sukuna was impossible, but if you could just buy a little time…

His laughter, low and cold, echoed through the empty halls. “You can run, little one,” he mocked, “but you can’t hide from me.”

The shadows swallowed you as you darted into an alcove, pressing yourself against the rough stone wall. Your heart pounded against your ribs, each breath shallow, controlled. You couldn’t let him hear you—couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how terrified you were.

For a moment, everything was still. Too still.

And then his voice, dark and taunting, broke the silence. “Found you.”

Before you could even register the movement, Sukuna’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around both your wrists like iron. He yanked you from your hiding spot with terrifying ease, slamming you back against the wall, a satisfied grin creeping onto his face. You barely had time to gasp before his body was pressed against yours; his eyes roved over you like a predator savouring its catch. “Hmmmmm…” he growled, “You’re one of the better-looking ones…”

Sukuna’s hand slid to your throat, his grip firm but teasing, his thumb brushing your pulse point. You were completely vulnerable. He leaned in, his breath hot against your cheek as he growled, “You really thought you could run from me? How pathetic.”

His lips ghosted along your jaw, the contact sending a shiver down your spine despite the overwhelming heat radiating from him. He chuckled darkly at your reaction, his hand sliding down to your waistband and yanking down your pretty panties with force. His hold on your wrists was unbreakable as his free hand explored your thighs and travelled back up to your clothed breasts. 

There was no space left between your bodies now—just the overwhelming presence of Sukuna and the electric tension sparking between you. 

And the worst part was—you liked it.

“You’re trembling,” he observed, his voice low, leaking with satisfaction. “Good.”

Sukuna’s lips found the side of your neck, his mouth rough and possessive as he pressed open-mouthed kisses against your skin, his teeth grazing dangerously as you let out a loud gasp, practically hanging from your wrists in front of him as he watched your squirm. His other hand trailed up your side, fingers tracing over the fabric of your clothes, teasing but commanding. Each touch, every brush of his skin against yours, sent waves of heat pooling in your stomach.

“You look scared,” he taunted, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His hand gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “And yet…” He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours. “You’ve stayed still here, just for me. What a good girl you are.”

The space between you vanished as Sukuna’s mouth crashed against yours, his kiss aggressive, consuming. His lips moved with a dominating hunger, his teeth biting at your bottom lip with a growl of satisfaction. The kiss was punishing, meant to remind you of exactly who was in control, and yet it left you breathless, your body betraying the fear coursing through you.

His hands roamed your body, fingers digging into your skin as if marking you as his. The air crackled with cursed energy, and with each kiss, each rough touch, Sukuna made it clear—there was no escape. You lost.

Sukuna pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “You’re mine now, whether you like it or not,” he purred, voice dripping with arrogance. His hand slid under your shirt, fingers cold against your heated skin, tracing slow, deliberate patterns along your stomach before moving down toward your soaked pussy. “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re trembling.” He said, shoving his long fingers deep into you, absolutely giddy watching your reaction. 

You couldn’t find the words to respond, your body reacting to him in ways you didn’t fully understand. His mouth was back on your body, kissing and biting it while still under his iron grip above your head. His grip was harsh; you could feel his power reverberating through your skin with every touch, every bite. You could tell how much he reveled watching you fight your natural instincts and surrender your precious body to him.

“Let’s see how much you can take,” Sukuna whispered darkly against your skin, his lips trailing down to your collarbone as he removed his fingers from your dripping cunt, positioning himself to fully enter you. He chuckled, low and threatening, his teeth scraping against your skin as he kissed the base of your throat. “You’ve already lost.”

---

Author's Note II: Just a short blurb for this one, I am still getting used to not writing academic papers lol. Always open to feedback :)

[sunaluvs]

♡ tags: afab + gn reader, highly suggestive so 18+ MDNI, showering, readers implied to be shorter than meguru but this is a timeskip so he can be 7ft if u wish, fluff.

♡ a/n: i haven't written anything in 2 years and this is disgustingly self indulgent. unfortunately this mans rotting my brain and i am weak. i wrote this in a daze

Through your light humming and the spray of water, the sound of a door flinging open rings clear through your apartment.

“I’m home baby!” Bachira’s voice booms through your home, the sound winding through the small space left open in the bathroom’s door, the thud of a bag and shuffle of feet following his words.

“Welcome home!” you call back, rinsing the last of the shampoo out of your hair.

You hear him do a little jog towards the bathroom, socked feet thumping against the floor, before his voice calls, “Coming in!”

That’s all the warning you get before your door is thrown open, the sounds of your boyfriend singing your name and the shuffle of his clothes bringing a small smile to your lips.

“How was your day, baby?” you ask, grabbing your bottle of conditioner and squeezing a bit onto your palm.

“Fun as always, I experimented with a few new moves,” he replies, excitement clear in his voice. “My shoulders are busted though, feels like they’re gonna fall off. I’m convinced it’s because you didn’t kiss them before I left this morning.”

You snort, rolling your eyes as you massage the conditioner into your hair, “Oh yeah, definitely, it couldn’t possibly be due to the rigorous training you do every single day.”

“Nope,” he quips, whipping the shower curtain open with a shit-eating grin, stepping in the stream of water in all his naked glory. “It’s not every single day, I get a break on the weekends.”

You hum in reply, lazily dragging your eyes down your boyfriend’s physique, the results of all his hard work. It’s all prominent muscle and compact strength, sharp, defined abs and a strong core, hulking thighs you’ve had the delightful pleasure of sitting on (and between), packing power you’ve seen used to launch countless balls precisely and ruthlessly across fields. The shape of him, embraced with golden sun-kissed skin from the summer sky, is made almost lewd with the addition of water dripping over his body, glistening and moist and trailing deliciously down to his co—

“Eyes up here baby,” he sings, stepping closer to your heating body and bringing his face lower to meet your gaze head-on, beaming at the hazy appreciation clear on your features. “You stare any harder and I’ll start getting shy,” he teases.

That snaps your eyes back into focus, and you snort incredulously, “Oh please, you haven’t known shame since you popped out of the womb. I could fill an address book with all the people who’ve seen your dick.”

He giggles and brings his hands to your hips, gliding over the wet skin, and pulls you slightly out of the water’s stream. “I’ll learn some just for you, baby.”

“Hmm, as long as you don’t suddenly start getting shy on me,” you hum, tipping your head to look at his playful expression. “You can have some shame with everyone else, though. In fact, I am requesting that you do.”

“Anything for you, honey,” he grins, pulling your chest flush against his and dipping his head to kiss you. It’s slow and lazy, wet with the lingering water on your face, his tongue licking your bottom lip like he’s savouring the feel of every crease beneath it. Bachira drags it out as he always does, but doesn’t escalate it, keeping it slow and steady as his hands slip over the soft curves of your body, caressing your waist, thumbing along your rib cage, dipping beneath the swell of your breast. Being out of the water and subjected to his teasing touches pebbles your nipples, and you release a sigh into his willing mouth. Your skin shivers, nectarous arousal gradually trickling into your gut, but there’s no urge to hasten the moment along. For a man always on the move, always looking for the next goal and next game to win, being the one Bachira slows down for is not something you take for granted. You savour every easy breath and satisfied hum he lets out against your lips and lean into his precious, languid warmth.

It’s only when his fingers lightly flick your nipples that you break apart, a string of spit connecting your lips, remaining close enough for your noses to touch fleetingly and your warm breaths to gather in the space between you. His honeyed eyes, typically bright and wide and wild, settle transfixed and heavy-lidded on yours, his gaze no less intense and singularly focused on you. It’s overwhelming sometimes to have all the world’s devotion directed sacredly at you like this, brilliant and irresistible and all-consuming. Bachira never goes halfway at anything, not at his football or his principles, and least of all you. He is persistently and overwhelmingly fierce with his adoration, an ebullient fire that never stops consuming. You’ve never loved the sting of a burn more.

“Getting a little handsy there, ain'tcha,” you murmur, thumbing softly at the grin that spreads on his lips.

“Jus’ playing with my food a bit.”

“Never learned your manners, did you?” you breathe, goosebumps rising on the skin of your thigh as it brushes against his dick, thick and slowly hardening.

“Think I just lose ‘em all with you,” he laughs breathily, the sound hanging adoringly in the steam as he rests his forehead against yours. “Missed you so much today. Every day. Wish I could pack you up in my training bag and take you everywhere with me.”

You huff, bringing your arms around his shoulders and tilting your head to the side, “You don’t think staying home would be easier?”

The words give him pause, eyes fixed on yours as he opens and closes his mouth. His eyebrows furrow. The heat of the moment dissipates as your boyfriend gives your question a genuine thought.

“I mean, yeah? But—well. What about practice then? I don’t think that’d be very productive to my progress and today was actually kinda huge in terms of breakthroughs, I was finally able to get a handle o—”

You burst into giggles at the bewildered expression on his face, torn up at the choice you’ve apparently forced him to make. 

“I’m just playing, baby,” you grin back at him, squishing his cheeks and puckering his lips, cooing, “I’d never be so mean and make you choose.”

He heaves a dramatic breath of relief, planting his face on your shoulders and whining, “You’re being mean now! I almost had a heart attack.”

Your chest feels full to bursting with affection. “Aww, my little honey bee, my sweet baby angel, sorry for forgetting how fragile my sensitive darling is—”

He groans and shakes his head, and you delight in the pout you can feel pressing into your skin, “You’re a bully,” he mumbles, pressing impossibly closer to you, wrapping his arms tightly around your middle.

“I don’t know what you mean, I love you, sweetheart,” you laugh back at him, kissing the top of his dampening head.

His pout transforms into kisses along your shoulder as he hums, moving along the lines of your collarbones. “Yeah?” he breathes against your skin, lips curving up. “You love me?”

“Uhuh.” You indulge him, fingers playing with the hair curling at his nape. “Love you so much, Meguru. Makes me feel kinda crazy sometimes.” 

You feel the soft smile he was pressing into your skin transform into a grin, his eyes no doubt twinkling and bright with delight. “It does?”

“It does,” you repeat, using your hold on his hair to pull his face up from where it rested against your collarbones. Just as you thought, his eyes glisten with infatuation, little crescent moons as he beams up at you with a dopey smile. Your breath catches in your throat at the stunning sight, profound adoration sitting in his faint smile lines and the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, earnestly dripping like syrup from his voice.

“I make you feel crazy? In love? Really?” he breathes, bringing his face close enough to yours for his warm breath to fan across your lips. “Say it again. Say it, I wanna hear it.”

And who are you to deny Bachira Meguru anything?

“I love you so much, baby,” you murmur, rubbing the tip of your nose against his damp cheek. “Always make me feel so crazy, so full of your love.”

“Again,” he tries to demand, but it’s a plea, you know. A supplication, a prayer to bear witness to the fire blazing with ardour in your chest, one that burns divinely for the man in front of you. His eyes are impossibly bright, drowning you in their sea of sunny reverence, and you know that he, too, would happily walk into the sting of your own flames.

“Feels like I can’t breathe sometimes.”

“Again.”

“Can’t think properly when it comes to you.”

“Again.”

“I love you, Meguru.”

“Again.”

[aquaticmercy]

Perfection

Summary : You and Agatha are on a perfect picnic date when its started raining. Why not dance in the rain?

Pairing : Agatha Harkness x fem!reader 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of alcohol. Fluff. A glimpse into Agatha’s sweet side. 

Requested by : Anon

Word count : 1.2k

Note : I am currently obsessed with Agatha. Thank you sooo much for requesting this. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

○ buy me a ko-fi ○

The day had started perfectly, just as you had planned. The weather was perfect. The air felt crisp on your skin. The wind carried the sweet smell of blooming flowers. The sky looked as if the goddesses had painted it vivid cobalt blue. The sun was perfect, too. It was warm enough to keep you comfortable, but not too hot that you were boiling under your floral dress.

You’d planned this picnic for weeks— it was even marked on your calendar with a big red circle. It was finally coming together. 

You savoured this moment. I was going to have a quiet afternoon in the park with Agatha Harkness, of all people, you thought to yourself.

The Agatha Harkness. 

This was the kind of woman who kept you on your toes, drove you insane, and made your heart race straight out of your chest, all at the same time. You could not even believe she had said yes to a date with you. 

Agatha had arrived precisely on time. Not a second too early and not a second too late, exactly what you expected. There wasn't even a single hair out of place. She walked like was meant to command the room—or in this case, the entire park. 

As you noticed her and waved, you noticed something different about her today. Her smile was so much softer now than you had ever seen. She approached you with a flicker of adoration in her violet eyes, something not a lot of people got to see. 

She was dressed in casual clothes, at least as casual as Agatha’s closet allowed her to be. 

She had a light blouse that beautifully hugged her waist. She was wearing dark slacks and a light jacket that were draped over her shoulders like a cloak.

Agatha always carried herself with an almost regal grace, like she was meant to command the room—or in this case, the entire park. But today, something was different. Her usual sharpness was softened, her lips curved into a smile that felt private, just for you.

“I’ve never really understood the appeal of picnics,” she said, settling onto the blanket with the same grace she seemed to apply to everything. “But for you, darling, I suppose I can learn to appreciate it.”

Her words danced between playful and affectionate, and you couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. Agatha had that effect on you—keeping you always on edge, making your heart race with the smallest glance or tease. But there, beneath it all, was something that meant more to you than any compliment could ever— it was a warmth in her every time you caught her looking at you when she thought you weren’t paying attention.

Everything was perfect. You both sat together, sharing food and wine, stories and laughter. Her laugh— oh, how sweet that sound was. The way her voice dipped and rose with dramatic flair as she told stories of bygone eras. She seemed more relaxed today, like she had set down the burdens of her centuries-long existence just for a few precious hours.

It was quite easy to forget the world around you. It was so easy to let yourself get lost in the way her fingers brushed lightly against yours. You found yourself so distracted by her that you didn’t notice the sky darkening rapidly. You were so lost in her eye that you didn’t smell the rain until it was too late.

When the first droplet found your skin, you hadn’t even noticed. But the next came faster, and then all at once, the sky opened up. The drizzle turned into a downpour within moments, drenching the picnic, the food, and the blanket beneath you.

Agatha stood, shaking out her jacket with an air of exasperation. “Well, this is hardly ideal,” she muttered, glancing up at the sky like it had betrayed her personally.

You fumbled with the picnic basket, trying to salvage what you could. “No, it’s not,” you sighed, feeling the weight of disappointment settle in your chest.

Agatha turned toward you, her expression unreadable at first, and for a second, you thought she might conjure some spell to whisk the rain away. But instead, her hands fell to her sides, and her expression softened in a way you rarely saw. 

“It seems we’ve lost our perfect day,” she said quietly. For a brief— almost vulnerable moment— she looked almost apologetic..

The rain was pouring down so close that water dripped from your hair. It soaked your clothes and sent chills to your bones. For a moment, you stood there, watching the way the water clung to Agatha’s skin, tracing the sharp lines of her face, you realized the day wasn’t ruined at all. To her, this rain didn’t matter

The picnic didn’t matter. The weather didn’t matter. It was just her. Just the two of you.

Agatha mattered 

With a grin, you stepped toward her, holding out your hand. “Or maybe we’ve just made it better.”

Agatha blinked at you. “Better?” Her voice was incredulous, a flicker of curious amusement in her eyes.

Your smile widened. “Come on, dance with me.”

Her eyes narrowed playfully.

You took her hand without waiting for a response, and to your surprise, she didn’t pull away. 

You tugged her gently, spinning her through the rain. The world felt like it had left the two of you alone as puddles formed around you. The distant roll of thunder echoed in the sky, but none of it mattered. It was just you, her, and the steady beat of the rain against the earth.

Agatha got used to your movement, sliding her delicate hands to your waist as she moved with you. Slowly, the two of you began to sway in synchrony, your movements delicate and deliberate. Her usually perfectly composed appearance unraveled in the most beautiful way. Her dark hair clung to her cheeks, framing her face. Her clothes were soaked through, just like yours.  There was something so human, so fragile, about her in that moment.

“I could’ve stopped the rain, if you just asked,” she said softly. Her lips were so close to your ear, and you shuddered.

“I know,” you said as you pulled her closer. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

For a moment, she stayed silent. The only sound was the soft clash of rain against the muddy ground. 

When Agatha finally spoke, her voice was filled with amazement she wasn’t aware she could feel anymore. “You’re something else,” she said, her breath warm against your skin.

Before you could respond, before you could even think, Agatha leaned in, closing the small distance between you, and kissed you. It was soft at first, almost tentative, like she was afraid to let herself want this. But then she pressed closer, her hands tightening on you, and the kiss deepened, filled with the kind of quiet intensity that made your heart stutter.

Pulling away, she rested her forehead against yours. When you opened your eyes, hers still closed. Everything around you was cold and wet, and yet you felt nothing but warmth. 

With Agatha’s arms around you, you realized something: perfection wasn’t in how perfectly you had planned the picnic, how good the weather was, or the wine and food. It was in this moment, in her.

To you, Agatha was the only thing that could be truly perfect in this world.

-end

[vashs-turtleneck]

Three Empty Words.

✧ More than friends, less than lovers.

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY)

Summary: You love Vash. Does he love you back? It's complicated. Pairing: Vash the Stampede x reader Wc: 1.8k Cw: angst, smut, situationship, penetrative sex, pwp, crying, rough sex. An: trying to get myself back into writing after being gone for a little bit so sorry if this is a little bit messy! Also I don't usually do song recs buuuuut Song Recommendation: Sugar - Sleep Token

Vash is emotional.

He'd probably never outright admit that to you, and he seems awfully intent on keeping you at an arm's length no matter what you do, but you've been around him long enough to notice those rare and faint cracks in that perfect facade. As much as he tries to hide it, you can see it. His eyes are sad and his smile is hollow. He desperately seeks for love in a world where it feels impossible to find, and yet denies himself of it when it's right there, walking alongside him.

But there are some nights, after particularly strenuous travels and when too much venom has been spat his way where that handsome facade finally cracks. 

He's vulnerable, and he reaches for you, baring to you his fleeting moments of weakness. Deep down, you know what he's really searching for. Forgiveness, acceptance, love. But now, he seeks you for comfort in any way you're willing to give it to him and as much as you are willing to give him. He wants mercy. At least for the evening.

His will is strong enough that he'll never allow himself to have you, but just weak enough that he can't truly resist you. He yearns for you.

And you're not quite sure how it all started, or how you both got to this point - how you let things get so messy - but damn it you'd be lying if you said you didn't want this in any form. As long as you can have him. Even if it's just physically. Even if it's just for a night.

Sometimes it's loving, with worshipful hands – one smooth and cold, one warm and calloused – tracing your lines with a reverence you have to tell yourself isn't real. With wet lips pressing featherlight kisses along the curves of your neck and down the divot of your collarbone, his mouth wandering a slow, meandering path along your body and meticulously etching out every spot that makes your breath hitch like he's trying to commit it to memory.

It's tender, with languid strokes that have one orgasm flowing into the next, until you're left a pliable, boneless mess beneath him, whimpering his name over and over and your body begging for him to do whatever he wants to you. Luckily for you, you're in good hands. He's here to take care of you, even if it's for his own selfish reasons.

Your name falls off his lips like a plea for forgiveness, kisses oh so tender, drinking your moans like they're the sweetest ambrosia. He roves over your body with intimate familiarity and pulls you apart piece by piece with his fingers, his mouth, his cock, cataloging every inch of your skin before he puts you back together so he can do it all over again, all while whispering a litany of praises and sweet nothings.

“You're so beautiful when you're like this. Always so perfect, mayfly.”

“You're doing so well, feel so good around me.”

“Am I hurting you? Don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart. Just wanna make you feel good.”

“Let me just move your legs like– Yeah, like that. That feels good, right? Just like that. Now I can fuck you deeper.”

“You like me filling you with my cock like this, mayfly? You take me so well. So perfectly.”

“You're so pretty like this. All flushed and delicate.”

“Not so fast, angel. Wanna make this last. Wanna savour you.”

“So beautiful when you come. I could watch you for hours.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Sweet, beautiful, angelic, the words dripping from his lips like syrup. You hold on to them while you can, because you know they'll be gone come morning.

You wish he'd let you in. You wish he'd truly open up to you and not only seek you out when he's desperate. Fuck, you love him. You see him at his most vulnerable moments, you hold him close when he lets you, and you let him take pleasure in your body as he needs because you love him, all sides of him.

But, Vash is also angry, and that's a side of him he keeps hidden even in his most delicate moments. 

Sometimes, those feelings he keeps buried deep bubble up. When he's completely run out of those briefly lucky moments and he's forced to face the darkest, sickest sides of what humanity has to offer and he's made to question what it's all even for.

Sometimes it's almost selfish, possessive, with him wordlessly cornering you and his large frame caging you in against the nearest surface, strategically leaning his arm up on the wall next to your head so that you have nowhere else to run off to, nothing else to look at, only him - wholly commanding your attention with sapphire eyes begging for something he knows you can give him. He needs a reminder, and you're far too swooped up in the typhoon to deny him. 

It's impatient, with his flesh and bone hand holding your hip in a bruising grip while cool metal keeps your face forcefully pressed down into the dusty sheets. You wouldn't be able to cry out for him to stop even if you wanted to as he steals your breath away every time his scarred hips slam against the softness of your ass, your desperation making itself obvious to him in the form of the slickness pouring from between your thighs. He has your mind swirling under his ruthless onslaught of pleasure as he takes full advantage of each and every one of your lewdest weaknesses. He knows exactly where to touch, where to taste, where to tease, where to bite, red marks littering your pretty neck that'll bloom into faint purples and blues come morning. The dingy walls echo with the wet sounds of flesh connecting as he starts greedily chasing his own pleasure with every rolling buck of his stuttering hips, your name spilling from his lips like a curse, fucking you like it's another sin for him to bare.

“Take it. Take all of it, mayfly. I know you can.”

“Spread your legs wider. Wider.”

“Look at you. Such a mess.”

“Gonna fuck you dumb, make sure you don't know which way is up or down when I'm done with you. Until the only thing you know is me.”

“Say my name.”

“Say it louder.”

“Touch yourself. Wanna watch you cream on my cock.”

“That's it. Fuck– That's it.”

“So fucking pretty when you fall apart.”

“Come for me. Come for me now.”

“Such a good little thing for me. Nobody else gets to touch you like this, make you moan like this, fill you up like this.”

“Tell me it's all for me. Tell me it's all mine.”

“Look at me.”

“Let me see you break.”

And when his breaths calm and his pleasure filled haze fades, when that fleeting moment of rapture dissipates, the guilt comes flooding back, leaving him faced with where he is, what he's done, and worst of all, who he's done it all with.

No matter how it goes, it always ends the same way, with him whispering his broken apologies as streams of tears pour from those ethereal pools of azure.

“I'm sorry.” 

“I'm so sorry, mayfly.” 

“I'm so sorry.”

It doesn't matter how many times you try to comfort him, how many times you tell him that you want this, or that you want him. Your sweet and gentle words do nothing to ease the ache he feels in his chest. If anything, you're making it worse. 

“I don't deserve this. Any of this.”

“Especially not you.”

“Never you.”

He always stays close to you for the night. He sobs and lets his tears fall on the skin where your neck meets your shoulder, brokenly weeping his regrets, begging you for forgiveness. He cries until the exhaustion seeps into his bones and pulls him into a deep sleep, his tears still staining his cheeks and his limbs still tangled with yours.

You wrap your arms around him and keep him pressed to you, savouring the soothing heat of his body on your skin, the feeling of his breath on your neck, the peaceful tempo of his inhales and exhales. Your thumbs brush away any remaining tears, your fingers ghosting over his sun-kissed skin, dancing over the curve of his jaw, the highs of his cheekbones, over that cute little mole, down along the bridge of his nose until you're tracing over those slightly parted lips. You keep him close while you still have him, holding on to these fleeting moments of intimacy you get to indulge in. Like always, it'll be gone come morning.

It never goes into the morning. 

No, when the morning light spills through the curtains and when the suns rise, you both pretend none of it ever happened. He rolls off of you and walks off towards the shower without a word. His tear-stained eyes are still puffy and red, but they don't even look at you. He keeps quiet, and when you're both cleansed of any evidence of your passionate evening together, he gives you that lovely, empty smile that you've grown to recognize. 

It hurts every fucking time you see it.

You wander through empty desert together, making small talk, just like friends do. Never do you discuss what's happened, what you two are, what you feel.

Once again, you're kept at an arm's length.

Until the next night, or maybe it'll be the night after, when he's suddenly hugging you from behind with his breath on the column of your throat, whining and apologizing as he begs for you.

“I'm sorry. I know I don't deserve it, don't deserve you, but just… please. You're the only one I can trust with this.”

“Please, mayfly. I need you. I'm sorry.”

Sometimes, he waits until the marks he left on you have faded. Maybe it's so he can mark you up again, pretend like any and every part of you belongs to him and give in to that satisfaction he gets from knowing he's the one who does this to you, that he's the one who leaves you writhing and moaning and begging on soiled sheets for any ounce of his touch.

Or maybe it's so he can admire every inch of your divine, unclaimed flesh, and he can pretend he was never selfish enough to try to mark you to begin with. He can pretend that he was never so foolish as to believe he could touch the holy body that is you with his blightful and wicked hands.

And he can pretend that those three beautiful words never fell from his perfect lips.

divider source.

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Could you do fic for Toto Wolff with wife reader? He is still doing his world even when he had the days off, so she came with a plan in mind. She presses kisses anywhere available; arms, nose, knees, ears, knuckles, temple, just anywhere to distract him enough to stop. Eventually their son, Jack does the same to him. Just something fluff and romantic. Thanks!! :)))

So yeah I know it's a bit late but enjoy it and PLEASE PLEASE SEND ME SOME OF YOUR BRILLIANT IDEAS ALSO!!! I AM VERY THANKFUL FOR IT.

This year’s race schedule marked the 8th race in Monaco with just a decent result for the Mercedes Team with just P5 for George and P7 for Lewis. Despite Lewis adding up with one more bonus point for the fastest lap, the team still ended in fourth place, with no hope really for the world’s constructor running. The lack of progress and consistently poor results were taking a toll on their morale. Toto Wolff, the team principal, knew that something needed to change. As he sat in his office, pondering the team's predicament, there was a gentle knock at the door. Y/n, Toto's wife, entered the room with a concerned expression. She had noticed the stress and strain on Toto's face and wanted to offer her support. "How are you holding up?" she asked softly.

Toto sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's been tough," he admitted with a weary voice. "We just can't seem to get a breakthrough this season. The car's not performing. It feels like we're failing further after every race. And as the team principal, I just don’t want to let everyone down. Especially Lewis I owe him his 8th title. I just wish there was something I could do to turn this thing around.” Y/n stepped closer, her heart aching for the man she loved. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, offering a small gesture of support.

"It won't be like this forever," she said softly. "You'll figure it out. You always do, remember when I told you not to set the hot lap in Nurburgring in a Porsche and you still did anyway. You are just as stubborn as that because the Toto Wolff I know will not back down from any challenge even the stupidest one. So go team Wolff!”

Toto glanced up at his wife, her words a lifeline in the storm of challenges that faced him. He could see the earnestness in her eyes, the unwavering belief in him. It stirred something deep within him, a flicker of determination. He reached out, taking her hand in his, and squeezed it gently. "Thank you for believing in me, Schatz. And well I did pay a hefty price for the accident that day on the Nordschleife track.”

Y/n smiled softly, her eyes filled with love and admiration for her husband's resilience. She knew the heavy price Toto had paid for his passion for racing, the sacrifices he had made, both physically and emotionally.

"I'll always believe in you, no matter what," she assured him once more. "And I know you'll rise back up from this. You've got the strength and the determination to do it." She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her husband's forehead, all the way down to his arms, nose, knees, ears, knuckles, and temple - anywhere she could reach. Much to her delight, Toto couldn't resist her affection and stopped working to enjoy the moment. Just at that moment, their son Jack ran into the room, stomped his little feet and demanded that he could join his mom and dad. He planted a sloppy kiss on Toto's cheek, making him laugh and forget about work completely. Toto's heart swelled with love and contentment. He leaned back in his chair, gathering his family in his arms, and took a moment to savour the precious moment. "Thank you," he whispered, feeling grateful for their love and the reminder that there was more to life than just work. Jack snuggled against him and smiled. "We missed you, papa," he said softly. “Can we watch a movie together?” He asked with excitement, a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Of course, Jack.”

“Can we watch Cars? I wanna see Mcqueen go vroom vroom so fast like Uncle Lewis.”

“Sure, baby. Now how about we race downstairs?” Y/n said.

Together, they raced down the stairs, Toto and Jack's laughs echoing through the room. At the bottom of the stairs, Jack cheered as he reached the finish line first. "I win!" he exclaimed, panting and out of breath but smiling widely.

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and others

y/n_user Movie night in the house 🤭 Guess what are we watching tonight?

user_1 Jack!!!

user_14 next movie for movie night! please!!

mercedesamgf1 send us the invitation also Mr Big Boss, Baby Boss and Mrs Tiny boss

user_2 the Wolff fam

lewishamilton Roscoe miss u Jack

y/n_user we miss Roscoe too lewishamilton playdate tmr? y/n_user Jack said yessss charles_leclerc Leo wanna join too y/n_user pls join us tmr

user_6 playdate with the wolffs, hamiltons and leclercs said no more

georgerussell63 can I join 🥺

mercedesamgf1 and us too? scuderiaferrari us three redbullracing us four astonmartinf1 us five mclaren us six y/n_user how about a playdate at the paddock 🥳