#the takes on decorating your home and your person are such a breath of fresh air

[goaskangel]

making a movie with shiu + toji !! part two - part one

cw : pure smut, rude toji and sweet shiu, face/throat fucking, recording, sweaaattt, cunnilingus, smoking

“go ahead, girl. take toji’s cock out.”

“yeah, baby,” he runs a hand over himself, “take toji’s cock out.” his stupid, flirty tone and even speaking in third person, mocking shiu, makes you stupidly wet. you grind down onto the floor like a dog as you paw at the drawstring of the band before tugging it down with weak fingers. along with his boxers, his semi-hard on bobs carefully. so big, your mouth immediately dries. not even fully hard and he’s at least a good seven inches. trimmed, uncut, slightly leaky–he groans out of impatience. 

toji gives himself a good couple of strokes, it grows with every sight of his raw tip. “kiss it, baby.” he holds his length right to your mouth. “what? cat got y’er tongue? here, lemme help.” he lifts your chin up, “open.” 

you open your mouth, tongue lolling out a bit before he spits a thick wad onto it. “kiss it, look up. mouth open, pay attention, girl.” he’s so testy, keeping a big hand on your hair as he keeps straightening your head out to level out your mouth and his cock. fear and lust boil in your lower back and you, getting slicker by the second, aren’t sure if you should be scared or tranquil. 

your mouth and pink tongue practically melt around his salty tip. you press a wet, open kiss before sucking on his cockhead, closing your eyes to ease the anxiety in you. toji groans and holds your face before pushing his hips and feeling the sweet, hot wetness press around his length. it keeps going and going and going until your fingertips creep up onto his thighs to dig your nails into him, hoping he gets the message. 

“hands off, baby. jus’ open up, breathe.” your eyes prick with tears as he pushes himself down into your throat slowly but you obey, your hands curling into a fist on your thighs. “yeah, good girl knows how to listen, huh? i like that.” he lets a shaky, deep breath out when he finally rests himself in the depths of you. pulling himself back to get a fresh breath of air, gasping intensely away from the thick musk of toji. you’re greeted with a mix of open air and…cigarette smoke? you look over to the cameraman who's now blowing a good puff of smoke. you would’ve yelled at shiu for smoking in your home if it wasn’t for toji swiping his cock on your lips. you open back up for him and take him much easier now as he thoroughly fucks your mouth, your eyes pinching tightly again. he tastes great, manly and sweaty with a hint of his cologne lingering down. veins and skin decorating his cock. you’ve always wondered what the veins on his neck would feel like pressed up against your lips, god, or when he sweats from working so hard and it trickles down the bump below his ear, you wanna lick it off. 

the smoke gets stronger and you hear shiu’s voice, “open your eyes, babydoll. look at the camera, come on.” timidly, you wink an unsure eye open before looking up into the black lens crouched to your level, if it weren’t for your dazed and blurry sight, you’re sure you would’ve seen your stupid expression. all teary eyed and blushing with a stupidly big cock poking through your cheeks. “there she is, there’s my girl.” he gets back up and says something to toji, totally unaudiable to you. 

your mouth gets a few more pumps and without warning, he pulls out. pretty plump lips and drooly mouth gaped slightly as toji pulls his boxers up. finally resting until you're urged to get up. you’re sat on the couch, back pressed up to the cushions with your legs open. 

“mmm, poor girl. you’re soaking right through your shorts. toji, why don’t you help her?” shiu takes another puff and spews it out to the side when toji hooks his fingers under your shorts and panties and tears them right off. “nasty girl, you always this wet? or only around two older guys, huh?” so aggressive, but his touches are so soft. fingertips messing gently between your soppy folds and dewy hole. 

“i was touching myself and then you fucking called.” 

“oh, yeah? could’ve just gotten you off then and there from the phone.” 

you whine, bucking your hips from the lack of attention now. 

“christ,” shiu gets down on his knees, “who’s impatient now?” he keeps the camera focused on your glistening pussy in his right hand, taking quick inhales with his left. “pretty, pretty.” he mumbles, leaning down closer to your inner thighs before completely forgetting about the camera. toji now holds it up as shiu spreads you softly, making you moan slowly. he blows smoke right on your twitchy clit, watching it disappear into thin air. he leans in and presses a wet kiss onto your swollen bud. 

“mmm.” you push your cunt into his face and your heart jumps as he continues, making out sloppily with your pussy before even kissing you. his tongue running skilled strokes from your clit to your much attention-starved hole. teasing the tip of his tastebuds into you, groaning at the taste of your slick. 

toji takes his cigarette so he can properly love on you, his thick facial hair tickling your skin as he drools and sends butterflies to your stomach. 

“taste good, kong?” camera at the back of his dark hair.

“like fucking heaven, zenin.” shiu admires your sheeny folds after licking your heavenly slick from his lips. 

“gotta get in her.” he stands up, two men towering right over you.  “you want that, sweetheart? let us make you feel good?”

PT 3 COMING SOOONNNNN (hopefully)

masterlist , part one

PART THREE

taglist : @xoxo1mira (feel free to ask to be tagged!!!!)

[livelaughlovesubs]

Sylus with the prompt: spitting in their mouth and making them beg.

Pls, thank you 🤗 he's a dom for everyone but he's just a lil bratty sub for me 😌

YES YES YES AND I REALLY NEED THIS AFTER HIS MYTH CARD DIDNT COME HOME

Dom!reader x sub!sylus - reader is gender neutral

Warning: teasing, spit, begging, humiliation

Anniversary event

“You are really something, sylus.” You stood in the doorframe to his room, leaning to the side and crossing your arms in front of you, a mocking smile on your face. “I was wondering why you’d invite me to your room, after that little dispute.” The room was dimly lit like always, the furnitures as spotless and elegant as ever, so doubt. But there were rose petals everywhere, really everywhere. On the bed, couch, table and floor. If you took a single step into the room, it’d be like walking on a rose field.

Alongside side the flowery scent caused by the seemingly fresh petals, there were also candles everywhere, lighting up the room. There he sat, on the dark red coloured couch, a glass of crimson wine in his hand, swirling the glass around before taking a small sip. He was going overboard with this ‘bloody red’ aesthetic. “Well sweetie, would you still care to share a drink?” The white haired male said, raising his chin to glance in your direction.

You thought about it for a few seconds, then sat down opposite to him. Then you grabbed the bottle and carefully filled your glass. “So demanding. What have you planned?” A light, calculated chuckle, him with his usual confidence that he’ll get whatever he wants, “you are making me sound like I’m some evil mastermind.” After a quick glance at him, you took a sip as well, it was bitter.

“Sylus, do you really think I’ll forget what happened just because you’ve decorated your room a little?” This time, you were the one laughing, “seriously, you have to try harder than this.” He raised a brow, twirling the glass around in his hand. Then he smirked at you, leaning forward to stabilise himself with his arms, “so? What do you have in mind, sweetie?” You scoffed, “can’t you think of something yourself?”

He stared at you for a few seconds, almost like he was waiting for you to give in, but you wasn’t going to play this game. Instead, you put your focus onto the wine in your hand. “Hah.. feisty kitten.” The male said while fumbling through his white hair. “Don’t call me that.” You snapped, pulling a grimace. He ignored it and stood up from his seat, walking around the coffee table and pinning you to the sofa, “will you accept my apologies now, darling?”

You grabbed his shoulder and pushed down, mumbling, “that’s not how someone asks for forgiveness. Do I really need to teach you?” His eyes had a spark of interest in them, and he followed your guidance until he kneeled on the floor before you. “Try to teach me then.” After a small pause, you leaned forward and yanked his head back, causing him to let out a sharp gasp, he frowned a little at your actions.

“Firstly, you have to show some sincerity and beg.” Even now he hasn’t stopped grinning, and it only fuelled your frustrations. That’s when he said, “alright, I beg for your forgiveness…” he stopped, wondering what nickname he should use “master?” now it sounds like he was mocking you. God bless your patience. “Secondly, don’t act so cocky when you are the one at a disadvantage.” You snarled, grabbing his chin to make him look up at you.

Sylus didn’t resist, he took your challenge head on and nodded, “what else, sweetie?” You sighed and drank the last bits of your drink, putting the glass away, using your thumb to brush against his bottom lip, “thirdly, obey whatever that person has to say.” His breath quickened, and he panted slightly. “Try again.” You ordered, and he stuck his tongue out to lick the tip of your finger, whispering in a soft voice, “please forgive me, y/n.”

It was better than nothing. “Now, open your mouth.” You said, changing your hold to grabbing his chin again. He furrowed his brows at that, and looked at you with a confused expression, “what have you planned?” Instead of answering his question, you reminded him, “rule three.” Though he was a little hesitant, he did as you asked. “Good, stick your tongue out.” You had such a commanding tone, it was fairly foreign to him.

It didn’t take long until he followed that order as well, waiting for what you’ve planned. You leaned over him, looking down, also sticking your tongue out. Saliva trickled from the tips of your tongue. The wait was long, torturous so until it finally dropped down right into his mouth. “You know what to do.” You smiled wickedly, then leaned back against the couch, watching his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed.

Soon, your attention turned to his flushed face. A faint blush covered his cheeks and he struggled a little to keep eye contact with you. The act of swallowing it wasn’t even half as shameful as the awkward, silent wait he had to endure moments before. Him, having to wait for you to degrade, to spit in his mouth. The self sure smirk has been wiped from his face, and so you commented,

“Good job, I’ll forgive you.”

[fizzyapplecandy]

Ateez as Romance Tropes

The one with the flower crown

Other members

Mingi x reader

Genres and warnings: biker Mingi, preschool teacher reader, strangers to lovers, established relationship, mild mature content, fluff, happy ending

Word count: 2.8k

Mingi's black and white world became a burst of colours once you entered, and he wants to seal the deal with a flower

Two years ago, one of Mingi's worst days ever was about to become the best day of his life. The day he met you, the love of his life. Mingi wasn't usually one to express his feelings out loud, but you brought the romantic side out of him.

His new bike had just crashed, the engine shutting off completely in the middle of a secluded road. He loved riding his bike along the forest roads, but today just wasn't meant to be. Luckily, just as he was about to give up hope, a small yellow Mini Cooper pulled up beside him.

"Hey there, need any help?"

When he took a closer look at the person behind the wheel, his breath stopped. You were the most gorgeous human being Mingi had ever seen in his life. Your smile was contagious, but he had to hold himself together. Clad in ripped jeans, a black tank top and a chunky leather jacket, with his Harley next to him, he was the epitome of a bad boy. How on earth he drew you in, you didn't know, but those big, doe like eyes sealed the deal.

"Oh... Well, if you know how to fix a bike engine, then yes. If not, move along."

Okay, Mingi had to admit that was kind of rude to say, but he panicked. There you were, in your white summer dress all cheerful, willing to help a stranger. Did you not know about stranger danger?

Instead of taking offence to his response, you only chuckled and got out of your car. You were a lot smaller than him, and it stirred something deep inside of him.

"I hate to disappoint you, but the only bike I can fix is the one you have to pedal, so we're out of luck. But, I can drive you into town if you want?"

Mingi scoffed, trying to avoid looking into her eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to be scared of a stranger? How are you so willing to help?"

You smiled, stepping closer to him and checking him out.

"You're Song Mingi, right? You come to pick up Jiwoo from preschool once in a while?"

"How do you know that?" He asked, his brows furrowed.

"I'm teaching the class next door, so I see you sometimes. It's hard not to notice you, dressed in chains and leather all the time."

"Hey, you make it seem like I'm into some S&M type of shit, you know?"

You put your hands on your hips, shaking your head.

"Language, mister."

"Sorry." He immediately responded, a bit flustered about the impact you had on him.

"So, do you want a ride or not?"

Two years later, you were living with him in the apartment above his workshop, all decked out in flowers and fairy lights. Mingi let you decorate the place however you wanted, and he even stayed silent when you brought fresh flowers into his shop.

His friends were always ready to tease the bad boy, but Mingi never complained. Sometimes, you wondered if he would think you'd be ruining his image, but Mingi couldn't care less. As long as his princess was happy, he was too.

"Sugar, are you home?" His deep voice boomed from the entrance.

"In the kitchen!" You shouted, continuing to stir the pot with your strawberry jam.

"Ooh, it smells nice in here. What is my sugar plum making?"

Two strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, and you leaned back on his sturdy chest. The scent of leather and motor oil wafted into your nose, and the smile on your face was inevitable.

"Strawberry jam. I went to the market after preschool, and couldn't help myself when I saw them."

"You should always act on your impulses, really. That way we can have fresh jam all year around."

"Are you saying I'm impulsive? I always have a plan!"

Mingi chuckled, strengthening his hold on you.

"Oh, like the time you bought red hair dye and cried when it actually turned out red?"

You gasped, leaving the spoon beside the pot and turning around in his grip.

"Well, you said you liked it!" Your arms went up to his shoulders, grabbing the lapels of his jacket.

"I would like you even if you were bald. Hair doesn't matter to me. Oh! What about that time you wanted to get a tattoo like me, but cried when the artist showed you the needle?"

"Hey, I wanted to do it for you! You wouldn't stop laughing after we left the parlour." You pouted, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Well, trying to, because he was too tall for you to reach properly.

"Sorry, sugar. You were just too cute."

Mingi placed a kiss on your hair, running his fingers through it. He missed you today, more than he could explain. For some reason, whenever Mingi is stressed his only thought is to come home to you, and today has been awful.

"Want to know something?" He whispered into your ear.

"What?" You asked, lifting your head to look into his glossy eyes.

"I couldn't stop thinking about that little number you wore to bed last night. It made it really difficult to focus all day."

You blushed, hiding your face into his chest now.

"Oh, stop it. I thought I looked funny. Lace isn't my thing if it's not on dresses."

"It really, really is. I think you should go put it on again, let me see it in daylight. In fact, that's what you're going to do, because you're my good girl, right?"

You shivered, lifting your head again. Mingi was in the mood, that much was obvious. But there was something in his eyes that told you it was more than just horny desire.

"I-I'll go put it on. Turn off my jam, don't let it burn!"

"Yes, ma'am." He laughed, pinching your ass cheek lightly, making you yelp as you walked away.

Mingi was left alone in the kitchen, stirring the pot with delicious homemade jam once more before turning off the stove and leaning against the counter.

His thoughts were filled with you, even when you were literally in the room next door. It was inevitable at this point. His day started with you wrapped in his embrace, sharing light kisses and meaningful words. It ended the same, but he loved indulging in your soft body after the long hours he spent away from you. Taking off your white and pink dresses, removing the bows and clips from your hair. It brought him peace, something he longed for ever since he was a rambunctious teenager. People tend to stare at the two of you when you walk down the street. They probably wonder what a lovely girl like you did with the dark giant. What they didn't know was that you, and Mingi, loved the differences you had. You had a strong man by your side, always ready to protect you and care for you. He had someone that listened to him after he got too into his own head to think straight, always there to ease his worries.

You two complimented each other more than others could see, and he always called you his little sanctuary.

His little, too sexy to be true, sanctuary.

"I'm ready for you, stud."

Mingi lifted his head, his breath getting caught in his throat. You were a dream come true, all wrapped up in white lace. It made him wonder what you would look like in another white ensemble, walking down a flower path to him.

"My, my... What a delight."

He came closer to you, making you walk back into the wall. His large form towered over your small one, crowding you in with his arms.

"Say, my little sugar plum, can I have a taste of you? I've been craving something sweet all day."

His lips brushed against yours as he spoke, one of his hands making its way down your body until it reached the edge of the lacy nightgown.

"Hm? Can I? You know I'm not a patient man."

You took a deep breath, placing your palms on his chest.

"Y-Yeah. Yes. Yes, you can."

"That's my girl."

With that, he slowly got down on his knees, lifting the edge of the flimsy fabric up.

You were in for a long night.

.

.

"Song Mingi, you look like you just won the lottery. You haven't stopped grinning since this morning. What's gotten into you?"

His best friend and trusted worker, Yunho, asked.

"Oh, nothing in particular."

He usually shared every detail of his life with Yunho, but he couldn't tell him about the way he enjoyed your body into the early morning hours. You went to work sleepy, but incredibly satisfied. The same thing applied to him. His greasy hands continued working on a broken car motor, the smile never leaving his face.

The day went by quickly, and before he knew it, you were entering the shop with your hands full of bags.

"Hey there boys, how's it going?"

"Y/N! Lovely to see you!" Yunho shouted from across the garage, walking over to you. You stood on your tip toes, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Likewise, Yunho. Now, where is my baby?"

You stepped around a giggling Yunho, walking over to your boyfriend.

"There you are! Look what I have!"

Mingi couldn't even get a word in before you started pulling out what seemed like fake flowers from your bags.

"The spring festival is coming up, so we're making flower crowns at the preschool. Your niece Jiwoo is coming to the workshop tomorrow as well."

"That's cool. But why did you bring all of this home?" He asked, trying not to dirty the flowers with his greasy hands.

"Well, I have to make a few crowns as an example, so I'll head upstairs to start. I'm so excited! I even bought a new dress to wear! I'll show you when you get done with work."

You leaned up to give him a quick kiss, grabbing your bags and heading towards the door.

"Bye boys, have a nice day!"

"Bye Y/N." Yunho waved, looking over at his friend. It was obvious Mingi was in love, but his next words shocked him a bit.

"Do you think getting married in a leather jacket is not acceptable?"

"What?" He asked, dumbfounded by the sudden question.

"I guess I'd have to suck it up and wear a suit. Damn it!"

Mingi started rambling quietly, turning around to continue working on the motor. Yunho stood frozen, realizing what his best friend had in mind.

"Hey, I better be the best man or I'm throwing a fit at your wedding."

He only got a chuckle in response.

.

.

The apartment was filled with a nice smell of Mingi's favorite dish. Another reason why he loved coming home to you. He mentally added that to another list of reasons, soon to be revealed.

"Mingi! Hurry up, I need your help!"

He took off him combat boots, hanging his jacket on the rack next to the front door. His feet took him to the living room, and he had to hide the huge grin behind his hand.

There you were, a colourful flower crown sitting on your head, surrounded by dozens of smaller crowns.

"I got a bit carried away." You laughed, folding another fake stem into the crown you were currently making.

"I can see that, sugar. What do you need me for?" He asked, sitting on the floor next to you. He stood out like a sore thumb, in all black next to the rainbow explosion in your living room.

"Well, I wanted to make one for you, too. But I need to measure your head first."

You took a measuring tape, not waiting for Mingi's response before wrapping it around his head.

"Okay, got it. Go eat while it's warm, I'll finish this one and then I'll be all done."

It was funny how you shooed him away, but Mingi only chuckled and went to do as he was told. You chatted with him while he ate, wanting to know how his day went. He heart softened, noticing how you listened carefully even with your hands full. You really cared for him, and Mingi was falling in love more and more as each second passed.

Without a second thought, he marched over to you again, sitting down and wrapping you into his arms.

"Hey there." You laughed, surprised by his sudden affection.

"Hey. Sorry, I can't seem to stay away from you lately."

"It's okay, I don't mind one bit. Here-" You turned around and straddled his strong thighs. There was a crown in your hands, a mixture of red and white flowers. You patted his hair, placing it on his head and arranging his bangs. Once you were satisfied, you placed a kiss on his nose and smiled.

"You look so pretty baby." You cooed, pinching one of his cheeks. Mingi blushed, flustered with your words. Usually it was the other way around, but Mingi realized the impact you had on him.

"Do you have any more flowers left?"

You nodded, motioning behind you.

"A bunch, look. There's tulips, lilies, daisies-"

"Give me a daisy."

You were a bit confused, but you reached over a picked a small one up. Handing it to Mingi, you watched as he twisted the wired stem around. He made a circle with it, with the daisy on top. It almost looked like a ring, but you he was just being silly, right?

"Y/N, you know how much I love you, right?"

You nodded, finding it difficult to form a sentence.

"You... You brought so much joy, so much colour into my life, I will forever be thankful. I know I'm not the most posh man you've ever met, but I'll try, for you. I'll even wear a suit to our wedding, I promise!"

He paused, realising what he'd just said. Your eyes widened, confused by his sudden confession.

"Mingi..."

"Oh crap, I can't even do this right." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to get himself together.

"What I was trying to say is... Y/N, my sugar, will you marry me? Will you make my life even more colourful?"

He lifted the little flower ring up, holding it out to you so gently, with eyes full of adoration.

You smiled, your own filling with tears.

"Oh, Mingi... Of course I will marry you, you silly little man!"

There was no chance for him to say anything, because you smashed your lips onto his. Your teeth bumped, the kiss soon turning more passionate as his arms wrapped around your waist. Yours were holding onto his cheeks, trying to pull him as close as possible. You both smiled into the kiss, parting to look into each other's eyes. That's when you noticed the tears brimming in his.

"Here, sugar, you forgot your ring."

He took your hand, placing the little daisy ring around your finger. He kissed your hand, cradling it to his chest.

"I promise I'll buy you a real one tomorrow, this was kind of... Not planned."

You chuckled, kissing him again. "I can see that. Don't worry, this ring will do just fine."

"Y/N, love, you deserve one that will shine as bright as your eyes. But wear this one until then, the world needs to know you're mine."

You wrapped Mingi into a hug, his arms tightening around you. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with flower crowns surrounding you, the one on Mingi's head a bit crooked from all of the kissing.

.

.

"Dude, is that a new fashion trend? What's with the crown?"

Yunho chuckled, watching as his best friend moved around the shop in greasy overalls with a flower crown on top of his head.

"Y/N made it. We're going to the spring festival in a couple of days, I'm just getting into the mood."

Yunho nodded, hiding his grin behind his hand.

"Well, it suits you. It's surprising how much, actually."

"Yeah, you should see Y/N's. It suits the ring I got her this morning. You should take a look at it."

Yunho froze, watching as his best friend grinned, taking a little box out of his pocket.

"You... You're asking her to marry you?"

"Oh, I already did yesterday. It was kind of impulsive, I know, that's why I didn't have a ring ready. But Yunho... She's the one, man."

His best friend waked over to him, pulling Mingi into a hug.

"I know that. I knew it the first time you introduced her to us. The look on your face was all it took for me to figure it out."

"Am I that pathetic?" Mingi chuckled, handing the box over so that Yunho could see the ring.

"No, you're just in love."

The men smiled, watching as the little diamon ring with a daisy twinkled in the morning sunlight.

Mingi could only wonder how much it would shine once it was placed on your delicate finger.

It couldn't be brighter than your smile though, that's for sure.

.

.

[junkissed]

the first snow

★ | member — joshua x gn reader ★ | genre — fluff, a little angst, hurt/comfort, exes to lovers ★ | word count — 1.3k ★ | synopsis — you think of joshua every time it snows. but does he think of you, too? ★ | warnings — none; no physical description of reader ★ | notes — based on the song by exo! it still hasn't snowed here yet but this song came on and i was inspired to write something :) if you liked this please remember to reblog and let me know in the tags/replies how you liked it! happy december!

you always think of joshua when it snows.

something about the soft, silent flakes just reminds you of him. but only the fresh kind of snow, the gentle dusting of white on the ground and the chill in the air that makes you want to snuggle up with a cup of hot cocoa. the kind that makes you feel like you're living inside a snow globe, a moment behind a glass bubble, frozen in time. that kind of snow is your favorite, when you're indoors watching it from the comfort of your home.  

now, while you're laying in bed watching the flurries outside your window covering the world in a blanket of white, he's all you can think about.

the first time it snowed with him, you were in bed just like this. except then it had been early in the morning, when the sun hadn't risen yet but the moonlight reflected off the snow and illuminated the night. the world had seemed brighter then.

“baby,” he'd mumbled your nickname in your ear, his deep morning voice still laced with sleepiness, yet you can hear the excitement hiding inside his words. “wake up. it's snowing.”

“i'll see it in the morning,” you groan, burying your head in the pillow. but you don't let his arms move from around you, his chest firmly pressed against your back keeping you surrounded in warmth beneath the covers. he's always been like your personal heater, especially in the winter.

he whines and nuzzles his nose against the crook of your neck, his breath warm on your skin as he whispers. “please? c'mon, darling.”

you sigh and summon the last of your energy to lift your head, and as soon as you do he swoops in to kiss your cheek, tickling your face with the smile on his lips. in the dark you can barely see the snow swirling outside, but it fills you with the same sense of calm you always feel around him, and you can't help but smile back.

“see? it looks so pretty.” joshua grins, kissing you again. “just like you.”

the fresh snow still reminds you of him, but now so does the old snow. the half-melted snow, the kind that's started to seep into the cracks. the kind that doesn't go away easily, mixing itself with twigs and rocks and dirt until it's no longer a pretty shade of white, warm and comforting. no, this kind is harsh and bitter, cold without any of the beauty to mask the reality of its nature. cold like day-old ice covering the ground, dark patches that you can't always see until you've already slipped and fallen.

the knock on your door comes as you're still trying to drag yourself out of bed and do something to take your mind off him.

you finally manage to pull your gaze away from the window, shaking your head to clear your thoughts. the sound of your slippers against the floor only makes the room seem even smaller, and even with the lights on the house feels dark tonight, your christmas tree still bare. you couldn't bear to decorate it alone this year.

you open the door, and simultaneously everything you'd dreaded and hoped for is standing in front of you, covered in snow.

“joshua?”

“hi,” he laughs awkwardly. even with the clear tension his eyes still sparkle the same way they always do, the way you so dearly missed. “how have you been?”

all you want to do is jump into his arms, but instead you keep your feet rooted in place. “what are you doing here?”

“i… don't know.” he gives you a weary smile, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. he's quiet for a long moment as you wait for him to explain, trying to come up with the words to say. “my car broke down a couple blocks away, and my phone died before i could call a tow. i didn't know what else to do.”

“so you think it’s a good idea to show up at my doorstep in the middle of a snowstorm?” you can't keep the bite in your words as a gust of wind blows into your house, and joshua winces.

“as good a time as any, to tell you i'm sorry.”

you release a breath, a cloud of fog escaping into the air in front of you. he must be freezing, standing outside wearing just the coat you'd given him on your first christmas together. a part of you is surprised he even still has it, but nothing surprises you anymore when it comes to him. you wonder whether he notices you're still wearing the pajamas he got you.

“it's been a year, joshua.”

he exhales, looking down at his feet as he crosses his arms. “i know. i regret it every day, i shouldn't have let it go that long.” he finally lifts his eyes, rocking back and forth on his feet. “i'm not expecting anything. i just… i missed you. i had to see you.”

you chew on your lip, and silence falls between the two of you. you can see the snowflakes sticking to his hair, soft white flakes slowly melting, and you have to fight your every instinct not to reach out and ruffle his hair for him like you always did.

finally you step out of the doorway, waving him inside, and with a relieved sigh he wipes his boots on your outdoor mat.

“listen…” he swallows as you close your front door behind him, slipping his shoes off and following you into the living room. “i know i left at a bad time. i was stupid. i would have done everything different if i knew i'd lose you. that’s not what i wanted, not at all.”

you nod, crossing your arms over your chest in silence. you don't reply.

“my mom keeps asking when you're coming over for christmas.” he starts to say something else, but you interrupt before he can get that far. you don't want to have to tell him how much you missed spending the holidays with his family. 

“you could've called.”

“would you have picked up?”

you look away from him, focusing on a spot on the floor. you don't want to admit it, because it means admitting you still haven't moved on. but you've never been able to lie to him, not even now. “yeah.”

his expression softens like he wasn't expecting your answer, but you don't see it. you don't want to meet his eyes. you don't know if you can.

“it's snowing,” joshua says quietly, taking a small step towards you. you don't move.

you hum, but you still haven't looked back up at him. “i can see that.”

“you used to love it when it snowed.”

“i still do.”

he takes another step. “so do i.”

somehow, you know he's aware neither of you are talking about the weather anymore. the house falls quiet again and you exhale, trying to hold yourself together. you're almost glad he never called, because you don't know if you'd have been able to do this over the phone.

joshua slowly lifts his hand to cup your cheek, gently guiding your chin up to finally look at him. his voice is soft when he finally speaks, that familiar quiet whisper like he used to. “can we try again?”

you don't want to look at him, but you have to. there's so much you've wanted to tell him, so much you've wanted to say over the past year, but nothing comes. you've missed your best friend, the way he makes you laugh, the way he makes you feel.

the first snow doesn't feel the same without him. 

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[shuenkio]

Honeymoon 🌹

Paring: Heeseung X male!reader

Genre: Fluff & Smut

Cw: heavy nsfw ;) cum inside, belly bulge, unprotected sex etc

Summary: You want to ride that crazy cow ride, so hee offers you a free ride.

Read at your own risk.

Word: 2.5k

Lack of massive perfect words, pardon me if it overdoes [words]

Getting married to Heeseung after knowing each other for quite some time was a great experience. He was lovely, is a gentleman, loves to take care of you, and he's also a grandma's boy. You've never seen him cursing or doing dirty stuff like normal adults do; instead, he was soft toward you, as if you were his diamond. Or maybe he never showed up? 

He decided to take you to his home for your Honey Moon together since he wanted to show you where he was growing up. 

You agreed without any second thought; before the next thing you know, you're already standing under the hot sunlight, shining through your hat. The wind, the fresh air, and the summer felt so ascending. 

"This is amazing, hee!" You said as you breathed in the cold breeze to your lungs. This is better than city life 360°. 

"I know you would like it, Bob. Now let's go to my grandparents's house; we're going to stay there for a few days." He uttered as a soft smile spread over his face, signing in relief as you loved his idea of coming here.

Arriving at the destination, Heeseung's grandparents immediately came out and greeted both of you with a warm welcome. Not only do they support you, but they also love you as if you're their grandchild and treat you like everyone else. 

They help to move your luggage and stuff, even though you insist they should not; however, it won't work for them. They also prepared your shared room with Heeseung with a lot of decorations that fit your personality, which show how much they're dragged into your background. 

Thanking them is not enough; you want to pay back for all their hard work by showing your gratitude. Again, they won't let you, as they said your presence was more than enough for them. You were touched by their words, as you're on the edge of a crying river, but Heeseung was there to comfort you, or else you would look so ugly in front of them. They're so sweet. 

During the day, after spending a night at Heeseung's grandparent's house, they suggested your husband take you somewhere nice for your honeymoon because Heeseung is an outside person. He knew a lot of places, and he was born here too, so don't question him. 

Your husband thought for a while before making up his mind by taking you to the racetrack, where people love going there for horse riding, competition, bets for money, and many more thrilling events. 

Your eyes filled with sparks when he recommended Racetrack for your date. You immediately said yes in an aggressive, cute manner. He was giggling at your reaction, smiling from ear to ear as he adored you even more. 

"Okay, then let's go!" 

At the racetrack. 

Heeseung brought two tickets for both of you for the show of horse racing. The horse racing was epic; you've never seen such a thing like this before since you're a city boy. 

Now you've realized that this is better than any sports you've watched, and you prefer watching this instead of football because, why not? This is so addictive; riding at a fast pace, reaching for the goal, definitely gives the rollercoaster feeling. 

The show comes to an end with a winner, the one you're rooting for as You scream in victory and celebrate the moment with other people. Your lover was standing there beside you, a bit jealous that you forgot about him; however, he just shrugged it off and formed a delightful smile. Seeing you're happy makes him happy too, putting jealousy back away. 

--- 

Making your way back home, out of the venue, your eyes suddenly lay on a carnival event. It's a crazy cow ride, where many people come to challenge a bull machine that moves at a wild speed. You release your hand from your husband's grip before running to see. I left Heeseung all alone once again as he scoff in upset with your childish behavior. 

"Love! Love, can I ride that?? It's so cool." You said your eyes turned into stars watching the kids ride that crazy machine. Heeseung narrowed his eyebrow and took a closer look as he shook his head as a sign of no. 

"Awwae, why not? I want to ride that, please." You beg, with your puppy eyes, for your husband's permission, but still, he's disagreeing. As he intertwined your hand, taking you home.

"Nope bob! It's getting late now, and that thing looks dangerous. You don't want to end up at the hospital, don't you?" He responds, barely looking at you while he's talking, which upsets you even more. 

"But come on, love, it was once. I swear, I rarely come to a place like this. Give your husband a chance, please." You left no choice but to try all your methods to melt his heart, but nothing seemed to work on him; he was already ignoring you. 

You pout in disappointment; let it be as you let out a heavy sign as a result. 

A few minutes later, he suddenly spoke. 

"There's something you can ride at home; stop sulking or I'll kiss your swollen lips." He finally broke his silence. In return, a joyful frown appears on your face, jumping in happiness.

"Really, but what kind? Like that machine one? There's another place nearby your grandparents house." You started to question him with a lot of questions. He answered with only one word. 

"You'll see yourself, and it's also the real one." Heeseung replies, bending down to your level before whispering to your ear in a low, seductive tone. His hot breath hits your skin, giving you unexpected goosebumps.

"Tsk, I'll look forward to it then, but if you're lying to me, you're dead." 

Walking into the room, you throw your body on the soft king bed size; you didn't even bother to get changed since you're too tired to do so. You nuzzle your face, dipping to the bed sheet, breathing in no space air, before you feel a warm hug pressed behind your back with his head brushing into the crooked of your neck. 

"Hmm?" You hum in response, asking what he wanted, until something poked hard underneath your tailbone. You immediately open your eyes from your rest, knowing too well what exactly he wants. 

"Hee?"

"Yea?" 

"..."

"Sigh* yes, I want to start this with you, love." Heeseung said, his tone almost sounding guilty. You roll your eyes, lost in thought, asking him to leave your body. As you turn around, look at your surroundings. 

"Bu-.. Y'know, are you thinking what I am thinking? This is your grandparents house." You utter, almost whisper, anxious at the idea that someone might catch both of you doing this couple stuff in the house, especially his grandparents. 

Heeseung laughed under his throat, with a mix of excitement and humor. He moved closer to you as he cupped your face, looking at your endearment. 

"Love! Once I closed this room's door, not even a single fly could interrupt us. This room is noisy.  proof even if you're scream nobody gonna hear ya~" Heeseung mutters as his gaze grows darker at the thought of having you under him. You almost jaw-dropped upon hearing the dirty talk from your husband. This is probably just the beginning; what will come more once he gets full control of you?

"Wow, you're something darling, I have never seen you're like this before." You stutter. His eyes are burning, full of lust and desire, like a wolf wanted to breed its mate, dominant them until they're satisfied. 

You move backwards using the strength in your arm until your back hits the headboard. 

"I want to make sure, do you really want to have s- uh se-" 

"Yes, I want to fuck you, mn! Don't be shy; this is our honeymoon after all, didn't it?" He smirked as his hand traced down on your skin in ecstasy. Your breath hitched at his touch; he was so good at this. Not even a day you'd thought one day you would have sex with him, since he's too good at hiding his wild side. 

"Now do I have your permission, my love?" He licks his lip, patting like a puppy, as he feels like his bulge is getting more painful in these clothes. 

You nod slowly and accept your fate. Heeseung is full of surprises. Even though you're now his husband, there are too many things he is hiding from you for real. 

He began to take your clothes off piece by piece until you left with nothing but a naked body, which turned him on even more at your milky smooth skin. The heat in his body is getting out of control, begging to claim you sooner. 

He soon ripped out his t-shirt and unbuckled his belt.Now both of your clothes are all over the floor, and your two naked bodies lie on the bed, ready for the real moment to start. 

"One moment, mn." Heeseung stood up on his feet, went to close the door, and locked it as he found something in his bag. Then he pulled out a labricate.

Your mind went blank. Question yourself about how the hell he had that without your knowing. As you deep down in your mind, you remember the word he said—that he would take you to the crazy cow ride—but look at you and him now—very unholy. 

Unexpectedly, He pulls your hip with both of his hands, making your head fall to the pillow. He positions himself in front of your entrance as he puts liquid on his huge cock and your hole.

"Hee hee, this is my first time!" You state it out of the blue, which makes him tilt his head in return. You expect a shock reaction from him; however, instead of confusion, a big grin spread across his face. He looks really happy right now after hearing that. 

"Even better, love; don't worry, I'll be gentle." 

You gulp down, ready for what is coming for you, with a mix of thrilling and nervous. 

Without further ado, he put a tip inside you, and as a result, the two of you moan in unison. His head was big enough to spread your hole, rolling his hip to warm you up to get used to his massive size. 

"Please put it in Heeseung; I want you." Your words slipped out of your mouth after you adjusted to the warm skin inside your asshole. His crotch was so big that you wanted them pulsing inside you to ruin your beautiful pink hole. 

Heeseung didn't waste his time, pushing his shaft all inside in a swift motion. Once he's fully in, he begins to move slowly, still respecting your first-time experience. 

His cock is not going to lie; feel too good for you to not grip on the bedsheets underneath. He's making your body tremble and shiver as a small belly bulge is visible on your skin, even though he's just pushing at a slow pace. 

"Faster love! I want faster; I don't care anymore." You said this as you were still catching your breath at his slower speed. What will happen if he pounds on you like an animal? 

"Your wish is my command, my little husband," he said, squeezing tight on your leg and throwing both of your legs on his shoulder. The next thing you know, he slams his crazy big cock inside you at rapid speed. Not even warning you. 

Thumps thumps

The wet noise started to occur in the empty room, and with every pound he pushed in, his lower abdomen was always pressed against your butt cheeks, making you squirm in no time. 

His cock spread your wall, almost tearing you into two, but as he continued to fuck you in, the painful feeling faded away, leaving only the arousal inside. Since this is your first time, naturally, your ass is clenching on his cock like a baby grip. 

He cried out in gasps; your hole sent a shockwave to him. As he continues to grind his hip, jerking inside you, chasing for pleasure and climax,. 

He increases his speed with every thrust once he gets full control and access to your body when your entrance gets used to his cock. 

You catch out of your guard, and after he quickly changes his position, he puts you on top of his stomach, still buried inside of you, as he lay on the bed instead. 

"You said you want to ride a crazy cow ride; go on~ ride me as you please, babe!" Your eyes went wide, realizing he's behind this. Your gaze softens, leaning down before you bite his bottom lip, kissing him in passionate tension. You no longer be mad at him because he's making you feel good right now. He returned your kiss, lurking his tongue inside your mouth with his wet saliva, eating you two in one at the same time. 

"Fuck uhh," you quake, feeling a jolt send all over your body as your body signals your about to cum. 

"Hee-ahh, narggg, I will cum on you. You want it?" You become more breathless with every thrust he pushes in, his finger still busy spreading your hole to take him all in. 

"Don't hold back, love~ cum for me; now would you like it if I filled you in?" He's too close to the edges, hitting you in every sweet spot. He asked for your permission once again if he could spill his cum inside your hole. You nod aggressively without even answering him. 

In the very last few final thrusts, his tip crushed on your G-spot, making you go insane for a sec, as your cum splashed out on his toned abs, unable to hold in. 

"HOLY MOTHER FUCKER AHHH," your chest heaving in an error motion as you arch your back, throwing your face above the ceiling, to the sensitive pleasure he's pushing you in. 

"Ah-... Ahhh, mn, I'm comming b-brace yourself." With another one last push, his cock started to twitching as the warm, hot seed filled you in. He let out a heavy moan, like vomit, as he reached his goal. 

You collapse on his body while his cock falls out of your hole, like a river of cum dripping out of your entrance. 

"That was one of the hell rides, mn? How do you feel, Mn? Am I hurting you?" He presses a kiss on your forehead as he holds on to your waist, supporting your weight on his. 

You inhale and exhale, rolling your eyes to the back of your brain, still feeling it. 

"I never know. Fuck feel this good." 

"So you want another round, mn?" 

"No, but I want you in." 

"Like, what love?" He asked your unfinished question. You couldn't explain what your desire was to him, so you snaked your hand before grabbing his cock and pushing inside of you again. 

"I love how you feel inside; please don't pull out." You responded embarrassed, covering your face in his chest. He snorted at your reaction and boldness, as he started to love this side of you. 

"Anything you want, little one~ not to mention that I could be there forever if you insist." 

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to all pics&dividers

[bunnis-monsters]

Hello!

I really love your writing and the way that you portray the reader 💕✨

I just wanted to drop this doggy bag of ideas at your door and you can do with them what you will!!

Warnings: MDNI, fem!reader, slight colorful language, most of it is suggestive, the last one is more explicit

\(^•^)/

My favorite/comfort vibe: the character genuinely loves the reader and doesn’t make “I hate being married” jokes, the Gomez Addams type of guy. Always supportive and never disrespectful. More loyal than a dog. Literally being rude or hurtful is not even in their operating system. Pure embodiment of gentle chivalry. Maximum dose of respect human beings and living creatures juice every morning. I literally can not get enough of this trope

It’s the old west and that rancher with a spotted tail and a large set of horns sticking out of his head is looking mighty fine as he wipes his freckled chest and neck with his patterned bandanna. You, a sweet young lady who is just passing through the town, offers him some water to drink. He accepts it with gratitude and chugs it down. You try not to stare at the lump moving in his throat, or the stray drop of water that you feel jealous of, it getting the chance to caress his skin instead of you. You try to play coy, but he takes his deep breaths into his large muscular barreled chest, he smells your sweetness and can look down and notice your legs shuffling closely together, your cheeks looking a little more flushed. He wonders if your other cheeks could flush the same way. His patterned ears flick and he tries not to get too excited as his tail swishes back and forth. He gives you back your canteen and offers you a ride to your temporary lodgings. Maybe he can convince to stay indefinitely, maybe he can convince you to do it by his side. <3

The og type vampire! Dracula but a himbo/science genius that studies you to learn about humans. He made a special trip to the village to buy more candelabras for you to move around and 3 more long flowy dramatic gowns that accentuate your curves and allow the moonlight to caress your soft skin just as he wishes to caress you. He leaves your favorite snack lying fresh for you in odd places, he seems to think this is all you need to live in way of nutrition, I mean, he only consumes one thing right? He assumes it’s the same for his little human. Cue hijinks of her escaping to the village to eat and teach the vampire how to take care of humans, and her learning about his vampire ways and his fancy new witchcraft (which is just sciencey things). He loves garlic but is severely allergic to it. Literally has been looking for a formula to cure it for like so long, it’s basically the only reason he got interested in science. He mumbles about cheesy garlic bread when he is in one of his rare sleeps.

The protective punk/gang leader pixie! with nasty ass styled jet black hair (and a hauntingly beautiful shimmer to it) protectively grabbing his girl by the waist, pulling you close as an “accidental” foul baseball narrowly misses your face. He glared back at the team who had just realized that they chose the wrong person to pick on, their smirks sliding off their faces. He does enjoy a good game! He likes to use his baseball bat (decorated with dragonflys that you made to match his wings) for more…unsavory things. He’ll be stopping by the afterschool meet to teach them how one could really use a bat, with them as the kind, totally willing volunteers :) He comes home to you with strange stains on his white tank top, you try not to stare too long at his slender and molded waist, perfectly framed by his high waisted fitted denim jeans. He catches you looking though, and gives you a “c’mere baby doll and gimmie some sugar” an annoyingly smug smirk plastered across his horribly perfect face. You were already glued to him, cursing yourself for loving such an insufferably wonderful and rough and tough fool.

The succubus! Butler who literally never stops thinking about you. Who is with you from sun up to sun down to serve you and care for you in any capacity that your little heart desires. Literal doormat, might actually fantasize being a door mat for you tbh? Loves seeing you in elegant and lavish shoe wear, he hates dirt for existing and never wants your feet to touch an unclean floor. Would literally pass out if someone inconvenienced you. You just roll your eyes and smile. You pat the space between his horns, pulling him close to your chest and resting your head atop his, gently reminding him again that you live in a reasonably priced apartment in a reasonably priced area and you never asked for a butler or to be treated like royalty and that he can relax and just enjoy your company. (He literally just showed up one night and decided he wanted to be your butler). He won’t hear of it though, you are a goddess that must be attended to! Don’t take this from him, it makes him so happy to be of service! You begrudgingly allow him to spoil you once more. This time though, you manage to trick him (you didn’t, all you did was ask) into the bathtub with you where you press your bare chest flush against his back and softly scrub his chest with a softly scented product. You insist that this is his reward for being such a dutiful and kind partner, and he’s glad that the bubbles hide the situation happening between his legs. You’re just as happy to help him with that too, reaching around front and reminding him again how beautiful he is and how lucky you are to have him in his life and he literally went feral, water and bubbles coating the tiles as you two tangle around in the water. The next morning he bring you breakfast to eat on the balcony, he happily watches you eat your meal, happy to see you eating and getting full just as he did to you last night ;)

The Undead!Soldier that never wanted to be sent off to the war in the first place and constantly looks at the photo in the heart locket you gave him and wishing to come home safe to your arms. Wishing to free himself from endlessly reviving in different places where he becomes a part of an undead army, only to be defeated and re animated again, praying to one day respawn somewhere close to you, where you can be his light and save him from this dark and endless maze. When you finally manage to free him, you took him to the local necromancer to get put back together, you guys couldn’t find his ring finger so the necromancer threw one in for free. It had a cryptic and eerily familiar tattoo on it resembling a small yellow creature with blue overalls. A shiver went down your spine and you cringed, the two of you went to another necromancer the next day to get it replaced immediately.

The town crook, swiper no swiping type bitch. He has a large fluffy gray and black ringed tail and a cute matching set of ears. His jaw is sharp and his fingers are dexterous, he can never seem to keep them to himself. It’s hard to get something of yours back once he’s managed to sneak it away from you and into his stash. You’ve certainly been spending a lot of money and time buying new undergarments. One night, you catch him rummaging through your panty drawer. He stops like a deer in the headlights. No, not because you caught him, took you long enough anyways. No, it’s that nice little lingerie nightie that you’ve got on. Now just who did you wear that for? He’s no stranger to your clothing habits (him? A peeping Tom? Nooooo~) You surely must have worn it for him!! You’d never admit it but you did wear it in hopes of stalling him long enough to get a good look at your secret admirer. He blushes profusely as you stalk closer to him, studying the planes and details of his handsome face up close. His fingers twitch uncontrollably by his sides as he desperately fights to keep them off you without your say so. He can smell your sweet scent up this close and- what are you doing to him?! He’s about to make a mess in his pants and you haven’t even touched him yet! Your arms playfully clasped behind your back as you lean back and walk over to the bed, stopping before it. You slowly tease the panties down your plush thighs and flick it in his direction without looking, sliding your soft legs underneath the covers. “Come back soon lover boy” you wave him goodbye as he hops out of your balcony window into the night, a dainty pair of panties worn across his face. The next morning, you awoke to a collection of expensive jewelry and colorful stones mixed with various and obscure snacks, a ringed tail peeking out from atop your window/

the out of luck wolf!mutt street fighter with nothing to lose finding the girl of his dreams when he meets eyes with a widowed Governess. She never actually met her late husband but at the wedding, he promptly left to serve in a far off war and never returned. The Governess publicly shamed and pitied all the same in the eyes of the people. He didn’t care about any of that, he didn’t care about her status or that she was once married or that she probably wouldn’t even recognize who he was if she saw him again. He hasn’t seen her since he was just a scrawny runt, beaten and bruised just as he is today, but with the difference of being able to defend himself now. He remembers your sweet chubby cheeks and plush arms that always felt so safe to be in. You two were just children, him a dirty street urchin, and you, a daughter set to inherit a duchy upon marriage. You to had lost touch as you got busier with your studies and began to grow up. He had honestly let you fade from his mind as well over time. But he’ll never forget when he saw you again. Now fully grown with eyes so striking that you reminded him what life was supposed to feel like with a single spark. His barren and brush covered heart caught fire and the only thing that could quench it was getting a taste of you. He manages to find ways to insert himself into your life and get to know you again. You like to read? He never learned how but he’d be happy to try if you did it with him! Otherwise doesn’t see the point. Wants to impress you with his fighting skills and never understands why you get upset for his safety and getting roughed up. He came back alive right? What’s a few more scratches? (He also loves it when you play nurse on him, he loves being doted on). Nobody understands why the widowed Governess would hang out with a mutt like him, he’s quick to silence the rumors and hate, and you’re growing suspicious of how eagerly he allows you to bandage him. He clicks his teeth when he notices that you’re catching on. He needs to be careful, this is the only time he feel like he can get close to you and get a whiff of your scent. He always feels bad that he’s dirty and smells of the streets. Maybe with time, you can tempt this sweet stray into your safe and open arms, where you can help clean him up, and instead of a street fighter, he’s a dude in a nice suit that he has already managed to fuck up, fighting in the street with the bus boy he tripped into. You’re at the snack table minding your business and letting him get his energy out, getting ready for when you two have to release some different energy in the comfort of your shared home later that night.

The highelf!pervert!artist in his mansion with an garden containing an insurmountable amount of foliage and beautiful landscaping, eyeing his sweet plump little maid from afar, savoring the sight as he paints your soft figure onto the canvas. He hisses as his hand softly brushes up and down his member, the skin with a shimmery undertone and a flushed mushroom tip, long and monstrous. He stops and lets his poor leaking cock go again, it swings down and the weight of it almost seems to stall it from popping back up against his softly defined abdomen, some precum staining it sheen. He furiously paints you, his enhanced eyesight allowing for him to see across the courtyard, his studio conveniently being directly across the way from your room, when you lay on your back, your hand between your plush thighs, his sensitive ears picking up on your soft gasps and moans that occasionally sound like his name. It has to be his name right? Surely you must be doing this to him on purpose!! He finishes the last paint stroke that he needs to complete his first coat, he quickly moves his pillow to the window with a bench built in underneath it. He wastes no time bucking his hips in to its softness, imagining that it was you, he sees you struggle to get your release and he just can’t take it anymore. You’ve known each other for years, you were his favorite maid and the only one that he ever paid attention to. You sure took your sweet time getting comfortable with him, he’s positive that in the past few months, you’ve been deliberately teasing him and trying to get his attention. Surely that’s why you must be driving him insane like this?? Unbeknownst to him, you were just that fucking clueless, but don’t worry, he’s about to come and show you exactly how he’s feeling towards you! When he gets his hands on you, it’s game over for being apart from him. He’s always going to want his pretty little muse to be within his line of sight! How else is he going to paint that lovely portrait of you if you keep closing your legs? Here, he knows a few ways to help you relax!~

Sorry for the long ass ask, I just wanted to share some ideas with you since I’m too lazy to ever do anything with them. I hope you’re doing well and getting all the rest and hydration you need!

For now imma share these ideas with y’all and ask which one y’all like best!!

Comment below what you’d like to see me expand on :3

[kakushino]

Burden... or asset?

Uzui Tengen x Fem! Reader

Tengen recieves a crow telling him some bad news.

Tags: angst, self-worth issues, fluff, orgy, aftercare, sub reader, sub Makio, soft dom Hinatsuru, mean-ish dom Suma Word count: 14,2k

Masterlist | Part 1

A crow came flying just as you were leaving the estate for your date. The grimace on Tengen's face signified bad news arrived, a slip of paper in his hands.

"What is it?"

"My… best buddy is in the Butterfly Mansion. Run-in with an Upper Moon."

Since you came back, he'd told you all about his current occupation and standing in the corps. It was fascinating. You’d been removed from the so-called ‘world news’ due to your Mission, so it all came as a surprise. It was also curious how you’d never run into a demon before. 

“We can cancel our date. You must be worried…” you offered, taking his hand in yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Tengen still looked torn. “If you want, I can go with you?” 

And so, your time together was cut short - he took you in his arms and rushed off with an urgency you hadn’t seen since you came home.

The room in Butterfly mansion was decorated with origami cranes; there was a vase with fresh flowers at the bedside. The man, who you came to see, laid on the sick bed and had hair like dancing flames, though partially hidden by bandages. The whole room might have smelled like disinfectant but the overall feel of it was homey, cozy, lived-in; a very colorful display - flashy and flamboyant.

“Well, well, well - look at you. The white of the bandages does bring out your eyes. Maybe you should wear them more often,” Tengen said in a teasing tone, voice a little thick despite his bravado. 

His best buddy smiled broadly. “That’s why I wore the white haori, Tengen. It has always flattered us Rengoku men, hasn’t it?” The volume of his speech could barely count as an inside voice; it reminded you a little of your half-deaf grandma, back when she was alive. Perhaps he’d sustained an injury of sorts… 

You would be the last person to judge him for that.

Tengen sat heavily on the chair next to his bed as if he carried a crushing burden on his back, while you lingered a few feet behind him, feeling like you shouldn’t be here.

“I’m glad you’re alive. I came as soon as I heard… Though you left for that Train over a week ago. What delayed the news?” 

“Shinobu told only my father and brother at first, said I needed the quiet and space - even though I was unconscious! Though apparently, that was pretty bad!” he smiled brightly, as if he weren't in critical condition just a few days prior. The bandage over his eye, half his head and torso down to his abdomen sounded more than pretty bad to you. “Senjuro came to visit me while I was out of it… Though I wish he didn’t have to see me in such a pitiful state.”

Tengen huffed in amusement, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “You are certainly a sore sight for my flamboyant eyes, Kyojuro.” The movement revealed your form to the injured man.

He glanced towards you. “And who is this beautiful lady with you?”

Tengen smiled brightly. "Right - Kyojuro, this is Uzui [Name], my first wife. [Name], this is Rengoku Kyojuro, the flame Hashira."

"Ex," Kyojuro interrupted. "I guess I was hurt pretty badly! Shinobu told me I'm no longer in any fighting condition." 

You blurted out the first thing that came to mind, for it was a question you, yourself, were struggling with. "What will you do now? If you don't mind me asking…" What will I do? How can I channel my energy? 

“[Name],” Tengen turned to you, eyes narrowed. He seemed displeased with your question, as if he weren’t wondering the same thing in his mind.

Kyojuro smiled brightly, completely at ease despite your intrusive question. "Why, I’ll do as all retired Hashira do - train new slayers. Perhaps I shall find an inheritor of Flame Breathing as well!" The optimism this man had was unreal.

The conversation faded into a background noise. Train new slayers, he said. You didn’t want to train new shinobi. You’d thought about getting into wifely hobbies, but that only filled your idle hands; not your mind nor stamina nor skills were being put to use, and it was frustrating to say the least. You itched for some action, despite what had happened during your last so-called action.

“-be discharged in about two weeks. Shinobu is assigning a nurse for me until I’m all healed up! And Senjuro will keep me company as well!” The loud and enthusiastic voice of the retired Hashira broke through your thoughts at last.

Tengen glanced at you for a moment, before he faced Kyojuro. “[Name] could help out too. I’ll be going on a mission soon.”

You shot him a sharp look. This was news to you. And rude to offer your company without consulting you first.

“My other wives haven’t sent any messages the past week. Something must have happened, and I need to find out what,” he said in a hush, all traces of good mood gone from his face. 

Your heart clenched. He was willing to go for the others when he lost contact. He didn’t just simply assume they were lost. You weren’t sure how you wanted to think about this, how to feel about this. You buried your emotions before they had the chance to surface.

“I see. That is important indeed. Wouldn’t it be better if you took [Name] along though?” Kyojuro looked at you, tilting his head slightly. “You both could work together to collect your wives! Like a date! But a bit more dangerous.”

You pressed your lips together tightly. That was a good question. Why did he not want to take you with him? You’d gained back the lost weight and filled out to your previous body shape. You’d kept up a light work-out regime to get back where you were before the last grueling months at the Mission. Did he not trust your skills anymore? You clenched your fists.

Tengen shook his head, the beads on his headband clinking together. “It would be better for her to stay. My wives were investigating an Upper Moon sighting in an entertainment district. Losing contact is more than bad news.” 

Why was he talking as if you weren’t there? You weren't just a breeze, nor were you a doll to be set aside when inconvenient nor were you a painting, to be displayed and kept at home. You were a warrior - a warrior who had the same amount of experience as him. How dare he?

“I’m here, you know? You could have just turned to me and asked. If it’s a red district then my aid would be more valuable - especially to find out about Hinatsuru, Suma and Makio’s whereabouts,” you finally spoke up, your voice flat. “If you remember, my skills lie in espionage, Tengen.” 

There was a slight flush on his ears at your scolding. “You’ve never fought demons before, and that’s why you’ll stay and help out Kyojuro. I’ve got things handled.” 

"I'm not made of glass. If those three can help you, why can't I?" 

"Of course I know you're not made of glass. May I remind you glass wouldn't be able to take my co-"

"Stop," you interrupted Tengen, your face feeling hot. Kyojuro had been watching the two of you escalate the argument, lone eye going back and forth as if he were watching children play with a temari ball. "First of all, this is no time to joke around. Your wives are in danger, our wives-" You were still a little mad he'd gone through a mutually binding sort of marriage, making you the wife of Hinatsuru, Suma and Makio as well. "Second, you know me, you know my skills. You know I can help and that I'm willing to help, despite what happened when I came back-"

"That's a low blow and you know it. I thought you were dead. You forgave me alrea-"

"Shut up while I'm talking, Tengen!" Your chest heaved with your rapid breathing, anger nearly taking over.

Your husband was in no better condition; he used his size to loom over you, trying to intimidate you into submission. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body, somewhat more intense than usual. His eyes were slightly lidded but his expression impassive; it was hard to tell if he was aroused, as he used to when you were having an argument in your teenage years, or truly angry.

“You can’t just put me on a shelf like a pretty housewife. You need my help. Admit it-” 

“You’re staying and that’s final!” Tengen suddenly shouted, making you flinch. You took a quick step back from him, adrenaline coursing through your veins. His eyes were wild, jaw clenched, muscles tensed. “You’d be nothing but a burden.” 

You froze, breath stuttering in your chest. 

He sidestepped you and left the room. 

Nothing but a burden.

You’d been nothing but a burden since you reappeared in his life, haven’t you? You crushed his heart, destroyed his home, and you had yet to prove you were worth the complications arising from your presence. 

So despite his continuous reassurances, this was how he truly felt…

“[Name]?” 

You looked at Kyojuro, his worried expression saying it all. “I’m alright, I just-” your voice broke and you wiped your tears quickly. You hadn’t even noticed when they started falling. “I’m sorry you had to witness this.” 

He waved you off with a dim smile. “You’re absolutely fine. It’s my first time seeing my best buddy like this, but all I can say is that it’s not your fault. It was me who stoked the flames when I should have left the matter be, and for that I deeply apologize. If I could, I’d bow to you.” Kyojuro laughed awkwardly before wincing and putting a hand on his abdomen.

All thoughts of Tengen flew out of your head as you stepped closer. “Hey, hey, easy… I think you shouldn’t laugh until that wound is all healed up.” Your belly scar throbbed at the thought of what the former pillar is going through. “Do you need me to call a nurse? Do you need any painkillers?” you fussed over him, sympathizing deeply with his pain.

A drop of sweat ran down the side of his face as he grimaced. “I think I’m fine. I just need to Breathe a little… Would you keep me company in the meantime?” He gestured to the chair right by his bed.

You hesitantly sat down. "Alright, Rengoku-san."

His smile made you feel at ease. "Excellent. Let me tell you about that one time Tengen and I…."

Tengen left. 

He left you there with Kyojuro and went on the mission in the same breath. It hurt more than perhaps his words.

Nothing but a burden.

“Good afternoon, Rengoku-san,” you greeted the man with a smile. 

“Good afternoon, Uzui-chan!” he beamed at you. “The Gods have given us the best kind of weather to walk home in, wouldn’t you agree?”

Your mind flashed to the wagon you would be transporting him in. A walk, right… You were given instructions by Shinobu to sedate him if need be. “That is true, and please, call me [Name].”

Kyojuro was already slowly shuffling out of the covers. “Then you may call me by my given name as well! I’m so excited to get home.” His wide smile was infectious, the black eye-patch doing nothing to diminish his bright expression.

Warmth spread through your chest as you helped him to his feet. Kyojuro was such a positive soul; despite your dark thoughts, you never felt lesser with him. You would love to become his close friend, if he’d let you.

“Alright, let’s get you to the cart. Aoi and the girls already packed up all the origami and dried flowers you wanted with you.” You supported him as you walked through the halls of the Butterfly mansion.

“Thanks, for everything. Your presence during my days of recovery cured me of my boredom,” he said quietly, surprising you that he even knew how to talk in such low tones. Perhaps he realized shouting nearby sick rooms of other patients was not polite.

“It was no problem. I enjoyed my time with you.” You two walked out of the mansion. He leaned against a wooden pillar as you knelt at his feet to put on his sandals. 

“I apologize you have to serve me like this.” Kyojuro seemed embarrassed. 

You shook your head with a smile. “It’s quite alright. Soon enough, you’ll be able to do it yourself!” You tried to be as positive as he was, making him smile slightly. “Besides, what kind of friend would I be if I let you suffer?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you looked at him shyly, face feeling hot.

Kyojuro just beamed at you. “Good thing you’re the kind of friend who helps instead, hm?”

Relief flooded your lungs, allowing you to take a deep breath. “Of course! Now let’s get you home!”

Pushing the cart loaded with a recovering Hashira and thousands of colorful stuff he wanted with him was quite the work-out you haven’t anticipated. The kakushi responsible for such had been called away on an urgent clean-up of a battle scene, and Shinobu personally asked you to do it, so you couldn’t refuse. At least he kept up a pleasant conversation on the way to the Rengoku estate.

A mini-version of Kyojuro was sweeping by the gate when you arrived. You tilted your head, studying him.

“Little brother!” 

The boy looked up and smiled brightly, quickly running over, letting go of the broom. “Big brother!” He clutched at the side of the wagon, glancing over the bandages Kyojuro still wore around his torso. “Father wouldn’t let me go see you since you woke up.”

Kyojuro’s smile was like the Sun, if you looked for too long, your eyes would tear up. You had to turn away from the intimate scene, one you weren’t worthy to witness. Why were you even there? 

"Senjuro, this is [Name], Tengen's wife. [Name], meet my younger brother, Senjuro," Kyojuro drew your attention back, as if sensing you felt left out.

Senjuro bowed slightly. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Kyojuro’s younger brother. Thank you for bringing him home.”

"Why don't you come in for a while? You need rest after such a long journey," Kyojuro offered, already trying to get out of the wagon unassisted, prompting you to move forward to help.

You smiled. “Okay, but only for a little.”

The day wore on, pleasant conversation lulling time into a background blur as you got to know both young men more. Tea was served, then dinner. Your belly hurt from laughter, and your cheeks might as well have been stuck in a permanent grin. 

Golden light washed over all three of you as you sat by the engawa, the two little Suns with you glowing in the true setting star. 

"Might as well stay the night. The road to Uzui home is long." 

Senjuro brightened at the suggestion. “Yes, stay with us! I’ll go prepare a room for you, big sis!” He ran off too quickly for you to react to the bomb he dropped on you. Big sis was a name you’d never heard in your life, yet it made blood rush to your face as Kyojuro laughed, clutching at his stomach immediately after as pain flared from his wound.

Analyze the situation, as you were taught to do while being a shinobi - a kunoichi. Yet you could not take a step back from the emotional turmoil in the stuffy room you were given, and so the full moon saw you sitting on the engawa of the Rengoku estate, nothing and everything flitting through your mind’s eye.

You were alone.

The night felt cold, as if you could never see the Sun again. 

Light breeze fluffed your hair, calming the whirlwind within for scarcely a second. 

A door slid open. The light clack of a cane told you who exactly it was.

“You’re supposed to be resting, Kyojuro-san,” you murmured, not looking at him.

“I’m not that old to be resting all the time, [Name]-san.” You could nearly hear the grin in his voice. A heavy grunt accompanied his warmth appearing at your side. 

“Well, you are still healing. And you might pull a muscle or something.” A smile appeared on your face, the banter distracting you a little. 

“Oh, you just know how to kick a man while he’s down.” Kyojuro chuckled, the deep sound reverberating in your bones. “I don’t deserve your teasing, you know?”

“...that is true.” Your smile dimmed a little. Perhaps you shouldn’t be so familiar with him. He was your husband’s best friend, though Kyojuro made you feel so comfortable, so warm - something you didn’t deserve to be, especially when Tengen was out there, in danger, alone.

He was on a hunt for an Upper Moon demon. And you were there sitting on the engawa, doing nothing - when you could have been there, helping.

Nothing but a burden.

“I don’t want to be a burden, Kyojuro-san. I want to be an asset,” you confessed, staring into the darkness, so alike to the one you held inside your heart. You wanted to be cleansed, to be free at last.

And he knew just how to help you. “You know, the next Final Selection is in a week.” Kyojuro grinned. “It would usually be impossible for a normal participant to get ready in a week… You were a shinobi though, weren’t you? Do you know how to wield a blade?”

You nodded eagerly, your hair falling into your face.

“Sit with me then, I will teach you all there is to know about Total Concentration Breathing, [Name].”

“When did you intend to tell us you had a wife before us?” Suma asked, as gently as she could, after exchanging so many glances with the other two as they walked to the Butterfly estate.

The question shouldn’t have caught him off guard; he was actually surprised they didn’t press when [Name] had arrived back into his life, but now wasn’t the time to press this issue. He was dying from demon’s poison not an hour ago, he was exhausted, and Obanai’s late arrival did nothing to alleviate his bad mood. 

“I was going to tell you…” Tengen sighed. “I was going to tell you once it stopped hurting.” His heart clenched at the thought of her gone, disappeared, dea- “I didn’t know she’d come back.” He faced the sky, the sun too bright against his lone eye - he now matched with his best buddy, he thought wryly - trying to swallow back his tears. 

He didn’t deserve to cry about this, about her. He’d doomed her before he confirmed it himself. In a way, he had tried to redeem himself by how he treated his new wives, but he now saw the error of his ways. No amount of- whatever he was doing right now could have erased his guilt now that he knew she was alive all along. And that hurt more than anything.

The thought that he failed her destroyed him on the inside. Each day he saw her after she came back was agony. When she showed him her scars, he wanted to die, to rip his heart out of his chest and offer it, still beating, as compensation for the horrors she had to live through. And yet… it would not be enough, it would never be enough.

“Tengen-sama…” came Hina’s soothing voice. “We understand it must have been painful, but now that she is here, we need to know more.” 

There was a lump in his throat, making it hard to swallow past the emotions and memories resurfacing. Tears pooled in both his eyes, making him wince when the salty liquid touched the wound on his left one. All that ran through his mind when the pain registered was that it was just a fraction of what she felt while she was away on that Gods forsaken Mission.

“We’d met when we were thirteen… still kids but you know how it is in the shinobi world,” he started hoarsely. “It wasn’t long before we started to fall… I saved up all my money and bought the mansion we live in to this day.” 

There is one room you can’t enter, under any circumstances, okay?

It was her room, all three realized at the same time, sharing looks.

“It was foolish of us to marry, but I would have done it again. The short time we were truly together was worth it… She was actually engaged when we did it. Forbidden love at its finest.” Tengen’s eye glazed over as he stared ahead, lost in what used to be. He had been happy, both of them had been so happy despite the circumstances. They talked about starting a family, about quitting the life of a shinobi, about running away and never looking back. That kind of thinking bit both of them in the ass very quickly. “Her family was more… displeased than mine. She’d been sent on a suicide mission, though at the time, I had no clue it was that. By the time I found out, she was gone, and I was alone.”

And yet, she’d done the impossible - she came back whole, in one piece, at least physically. [Name] had no reaction to the silk yukata he gave her though, and that bothered him deeply. The bolts of turtle shell patterned fabric had been his wedding gift to her, it had been their hope, their promise, to swathe their first child in it. After her disappearance, it laid abandoned in her room. He couldn’t bear to enter it for years upon years, grieving yet in denial. He wasn't able to fully accept her death, to even think about her at all without weeping like a child.

Perhaps it was fate then, that after young Kamado’s trial, he’d commissioned a seamstress to make a yukata out of the would-be child's fabric on a whim. He wanted to hang it up, decorate the bedroom with it - a reminder and a remembrance, a threat and a promise, to never let any of his wives slip through his fingers like water. 

Tengen was blessed though, with your life, he was blessed and he-

Nothing but a burden.

He would never call himself an asshole - would have never called himself one - until you, until that, until he called you a burden.

Gods, he deserved death for that. He never should have uttered those words. How hard he tried to reassure you, to ease you back into being home, to let you slide into comfort and abandon the high-alertness that came with any mission; night terrors woke the both of you in the silence of many dark nights - memories, would-bes, and thoughts plaguing the conscious and unconscious hours of your days.

Tengen had called you nothing but a burden, the words weighing him down now, making him stop and stare into nothingness, a chasm opening in his chest at the realization that no amount of comfort could have prepared you for this, he'd hurt you, broke your trust yet again, using your insecurities against you. 

He had no excuse - sans one. He was scared, driven mad by the thought of losing you again and this time - under his watch. He was worried he couldn't protect you as he had sworn all those years ago. 

And now he was the one who hurt you - the only person, who he couldn't protect you from, was himself.

Tengen was the God of Fuck ups, not Festivals.

As shinobi, loyalty was situational; whoever paid the most got it, and whoever couldn’t pay got dealt with. 

As a slayer, your one and only loyalty was to humans. No demon should be allowed to live - minus Nezuko - and you planned to make good on those words. 

You walked out of the wisteria forest on the seventh day, exhausted, but victorious. You’d been worried about it, since Tengen made even the lowest of demons out to be strong enough to rip you to shreds. That proved to be true - for most humans. You saw a few fresh blood puddles of where the other participants used to be throughout the week. All you could do was offer a quick and silent prayer and move on. The demons you yourself encountered were no match for your skill, though the borrowed half-nichirin half-iron wakizashi wasn’t your usual choice of weapon as a fighter, as a shinobi.

It was time to put such thoughts and memories behind you, move onto better and bigger things. 

This time around, ten people managed to pass the Final Selection, including you, though you were by far the oldest. That was fine. Even if you spent only a year, a month, a week before you perished in the line of duty, even if you helped only one person, it was worth it. Suffering was worth it.

It was atonement for a lifetime of dirty deeds under the mantle of the title Shinobi. The whole weight of it was on your back, nearly breaking your spine. But you would endure. That's what's owed to humanity after you tainted it with your deeds in the dark.

Another side of you whispered, you’re still as black as you were before, you can’t find salvation, you are selfish to the core. 

And the side was right.

Because your motivation didn’t lie entirely in saving humans, it laid in proving your husband wrong, in showing him you were an asset, never a burden.

You wanted to stand by his side and take on missions together - like how it was always meant to be. Tengen and you, against the world.

“Welcome home, dear student.” Kyojuro’s greeting warmed you to the marrow of your bones. 

“I’m home, master.” You grinned at him, and limped over to give him a hug, neither of you minding the dirt and stink of the road. 

“Congratulations on becoming a slayer. I’m proud of you.” 

By the time your husband and wives were on their way back from Butterfly mansion, you had already stopped limping. You didn't stop training your Breathing in the meantime, trying to achieve using it non-stop as you waited for the arrival of your Nichirin sword.

The house was clean, snacks were prepared, and you found yourself sitting on the porch. Your stomach was full of butterflies, excited as you were to see Tengen again, though you were also a little nervous - you hoped Suma, Makio and Hinatsuru would grow to like you and for that, you needed to give a good impression.

You wore the silk yukata with a turtle shell pattern, an earthy green obi tying it together. You hoped you were flashy enough for everyone, though Tengen gave you the yukata so it must be flashy enough… Maybe you should have changed into something more colorful. 

Tengen’s laughter echoed down the road.

Fuck. It’s too late to change. Is my hair messy? Gods, I should have checked-

The gate opened and you shot to your feet, straightening out your yukata in a panic.

Wine red eyes- no, wine red eye stared back at you, an eyepatch covering the other one. Your breath was nearly knocked out of you as you took in your husband. You knew he’d lost his eye and his left hand but reading about it in a letter and seeing it in person were two entirely different things.

You couldn’t stop your legs as you nearly ran to him, jumping into his arms, clutching onto him tightly as tears fell and stained his yukata. You had thought about what you wanted to tell him once he came home, but now that he was here - your mind became blank. You couldn’t think of anything to say, not when he was there, his scent and warmth filling you up in a way air and food couldn’t.

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes seemed like hours.

At last, you said, “Welcome home,” in a choked whisper as you calmed yourself a little.

“I’m home.” His voice was near silent; if you hadn’t been so close to him, you wouldn’t have been able to hear it.

What a way to greet him after such a mission- Oh! You completely forgot about the wives!

You slowly pulled back, face feeling hot with shame when you took a step back, quickly wiping away your tears.

You bowed a little. “It’s nice to meet you again. I’m Uzui [Name]... your wife.” Your face was flushed and your hands trembled. “I hope we can get along.”

Suma was the first one to break; she nearly pounced on you, hugging you and swinging you around in a circle. You marveled at her strength as you held on for your life, laughing in delight. 

A deft hand flew over your head and hit Suma, who nearly immediately dropped you - the momentum making you stumble back into a warm pair of arms and a very soft chest. It was Hinatsuru who caught you. “Are you alright?”

You regained your bearing, pulling away. “Yes, thank you. Are they-” 

Makio was yelling at Suma, who was clinging to Tengen with crocodile tears streaming down her face. 

“Uhm, is this the Uzui residence?”

Like moths to a flame, all of you looked to the still-open gate, where a kakushi stood. They had a - your heart skipped a beat - covered katana on their back. 

You walked forward, smiling. “Yes, it is, kakushi-san.” You felt light, happy. Your Nichirin sword was finally here.

They bowed to you. “Uzui [Name], I presume?” They took the case off their back and presented it to you. 

Your hands shook a little when you slid the cloth off of the sword. The scabbard was black, the grip a burnt orange, the guard in the shape of a flame, reminiscent of the one Kyojuro used to have. Your smile widened, cheeks near burning from the stretch; he must have told his artisan to make it for you. 

It seemed the world held its breath for you as you drew the blade.

An ordinary steel greeted you before color bled into it, as if it were your blood fueling it. 

A dark gold reflected the rays of the sun before it hid behind a cloud. 

Your wives spewed congratulations after congratulations as you stared at your sword with joy. You felt as if you could soar. You laughed in delight as you sheathed the blade, hugging the kakushi, who blushed deeply underneath their mask, and then each of your wives. Happiness flowed in your veins, as golden as the sun, the flames, and the katana.

You Breathed fire. You were beautiful. You were powerful. You felt on top of the world, a goddess sent down to smite the evils of this world.

All this thanks to a single dark gold blade, your very own Nichirin sword.

Tengen could only stare at the scene in front of him, dazed.

He’d left you at home in hopes of saving you, of protecting you from danger he faced every day he went to hunt demons. The katana in your hand indicated he failed, and oh how miserably did he fail.

Did you do this to punish him? Is this your revenge? Retribution for the atrocity of taking more wives? 

Nothing but a burden.

Did you truly believe his words - the ones he so stupidly uttered in a moment of madness in that sick room? He didn’t mean them, he never meant them. He knew you were more than useful, you were an asset in every way and form imaginable. Tengen was just scared, so fucking scared of losing you - especially losing you under his watch when he’d just gotten you back. 

Fuck.

Did you… consider him unworthy of protecting you? Is that why you sought to become a slayer? To get your own blade and stand apart from him?

Was it a declaration of war on him?

Thousand men may die if so. He never, never meant for this to happen.

And Tengen would find no peace until he got to the bottom of this.

Raindrops fell one by one, creating a harmony of nature. A contrast to the whirlwind of emotions in his heart.

The light drizzle of the afternoon evolved into a lightning storm by the time the sun hid behind the mountains. You were glad there was no tree close enough to attract the lightning or to fall on the Uzui house, or you were sure there would be a big problem on your hands.

The tea room you sat in had been unused for months, clearly, as you had to wipe off some dust off the low table before you could use it. The pillows were clean, which was a blessing. It wouldn’t be able to dry out in this weather.

Though the furniture was traditional, the decorations were not. A few western pieces hung on the walls and there was a small statue in the corner of a naked angel reaching out to the heavens. One painting in particular caught your eye. It was a woman sprawled on her belly over a chaise, book in hand and kicking her feet in the air, clearly enjoying herself. If you squinted, the woman resembled you, a little.

But that wasn’t right.

If you were a painting, you’d be damaged, torn open, paint cracked, and your price would be pain - a price no one wanted to pay.

The door slid open.

All three wives stood there, and Hinatsuru spoke first. “May we come in?” She gave you a small smile, reassuring. You nodded.

Suma squealed and skipped over to the low table, quickly sitting down on one of the cushions; Makio carefully balanced a tray with teapot and four cups, Hinatsuru closing the door after her.

“I heard Tengen left to sleep over at Kyojuro-san’s. Is that right?” you asked, watching them  all sit with you as Makio poured you a cup. The fragrance was slightly bitter, but you could easily identify it as mugicha, a barley tea meant to calm the mind. 

You could guess why they came to you.

“That’s right. We’ve got a Girls’ Night today!” Suma grinned, nearly bouncing in her seat. 

Makio gave her shoulder a light slap, “Shut up, let Hina speak, you idiot.”

“Hina~ Did you see? Did you see Makio slap me?” crocodile tears filled her eyes. 

Hinatsuru shot them both a look, making both of them quiet down. She turned to you. “[Name], we’ve talked to Tengen-sama earlier,” she started. Your hand clenched around your cup of tea as your chest grew tighter. “We all know the feeling of looking in the mirror and not being happy with the body we see there. We just want to show you that you aren’t alone, and that in this household, there is no judgment. This household includes you as well.” 

You stared at her in silence, in disbelief. You never thought they would be so bold as to approach you about this scarcely few hours after getting home, but on the other hand, it made sense. Tengen’s type wasn’t a shy maiden, even if it held a sort of appeal of its own.

A rustle of clothes caught your attention. Suma turned her back to you and loosened her obi. The short yukata fell to her hips, baring her back to you; there was nothing- until she used her hands to lift her hair. You drew a sharp breath.

An ugly jagged scar stretched from the top of her back up til it disappeared in her hairline. 

“This is a pretty embarrassing story actually. Nothing grand at all,” she told you. “I was about sixteen and a spider startled me while training. I fell from a tree - a branch whacked me there, and since then, I have this ugly thing.” She let her hair fall down and sat properly again, a half-smile on her face; it didn’t look right to see her expression so grim and sad. There was a strange instinct to try to cheer her up, yet you remained silent, a lump forming in your throat.

Makio was next, untying her own belt as she knelt, letting her dress pool at her knees. Raised scar imitating torn flesh extended from her bellybutton to her hip, only partially hidden by her fundoshi. You wanted to avert your eyes but couldn’t. “This is only two years old. I was diving in the river with the girls when a current threw me on a bunch of rocks. Long story short, they were pretty sharp.” 

She was so nonchalant about such a huge blemish on her smooth skin - it made you feel something, something sharp and unwieldy was lodged in your chest, throat, heart. Your hands trembled as you knocked back the tea and set the cup down quickly, lest you let it slip from your fingers.

You were being pulled apart at the seams, exposed despite wearing the most concealing yukata of you four.

Lastly, Hinatsuru stripped off her own yukata. A scar, unlike the others’, placed very deliberately over her areola. You choked on air, near hysterics.

Warm hands and warmer eyes reached out to you, grounding you as you keened. Because you knew the origin. You were there. You were there on the Mission.

You heaved a dry sob. There was only one thing you wanted to do.

You raised your fingers to your lips, kissing them, and then- the fingertips traced the ragged flesh softly, tracing it with a feather-light touch. 

Perhaps you were overstepping, but you wanted to, needed to apologize, to show her intimately how beautiful you found her despite what had happened.

“You are stunning,” you whispered breathlessly, making her own breath hitch. You blinked back tears. “All of you are stunning.”

Suma shuffled closer. “And so are you, [Name].”

Your hand fell away. Perhaps it was foolishness, or bravery, that made you pull your curtain apart, baring your own skin to them. 

There were no gasps, no horrified whispers.

Just four women, nearly naked as the day you were all born, sharing their humiliation.

…was it humiliation? Or was it strength to survive despite all the hardships? 

"Our point is, each of us have some scars we are ashamed of. Do you think lesser of us for having them?"

You didn't even have to think about the answer. "No."

They smiled. And you realized that you would find only acceptance here, in their soft and tender arms.

Hinatsuru took your non-dominant hand in hers. "Some scars are silly, some scars come from gruesome experiences - but they make us who we are. They are part of us."

Suma took your other hand in hers, squeezing it briefly and lifting it to her lips. Oh so gently, she bestowed kisses on each fingertip, lingering on the scar from the knife tip that caused your abdominal scar.

In that moment, you did not see women - your wives - you saw deities, blessing you with their attention and love. They were willing to carry all your trauma together, to share the burden despite knowing you only for a short time. You had no words, except-

"I'm yours," you whispered, warmth filling your chest cavity, your body feeding on the intimacy, the closeness, the feeling of belonging. "And you're mine."

"You're ours, and we are yours."

If you were a painting, you’d be held together only by the frame - at least, that was how it used to be. Now, with three new wives to support you, you were slowly being put back together, healing at last.

"So… we match now, don't we?" Kyojuro said with a bright smile on his face. 

It was the day after Tengen came home, but he couldn’t wait. Despite what he told his wives, he spent the night in an inn, marinating in the wrath he felt, in the hurt and the frustration.

Madness stewed in his stomach, threatening to be regurgitated at any moment. Tengen pushed down his feelings for the moment when he heard steps approaching. “Yes, we do match. Including the retirement and all the free time that comes with it.” 

"I see. Well, you have your hands- hand full of your wives. I'm positive you will figure something out!" 

A demure voice called out, "Excuse me." A red-haired woman came closer, kneeling behind the men sitting on the engawa and setting down her tray. There was tea for each of the men and a huge plate of steamed bread buns. "I thought you might be a little hungry so I…" she trailed off. Quickly getting up, she all but ran away from them.

"Thank you, dear!" Kyojuro shouted at her retreating back, laughing a little. "That was my nurse, Amiya. She's a little shy but really nice to talk to. She’s actually-"

Tengen wasn't in the mood to talk about his friend's nurse. He was here for business after all. “When did you intend to tell me you made my wife a demon slayer?”

Kyojuro paused, nearly mid-bite into a bun. Deciding to finish taking the bite before speaking, he quickly chewed and swallowed. "Delicious! Hmm, well, I didn't make her a slayer. She became one herself." He took another bite, finishing his first bun happily. "Delicious!"

“Cut that out, Kyojuro. She wouldn’t have become one if someone didn’t teach her Breathing. I know it was you, don’t deny it,” Tengen said between clenched teeth, rage very poorly hidden. Behind all the rage was worry, and fear, for her - yet all he could do was spew poison at his best friend.

“Maybe if you’d listened to her back then, you could have prevented me making her a slayer, in your words,” Kyojuro blew at his tea to cool it down a little. “Besides, [Name] is her own person and she can do as she likes. She wanted to be a slayer, she came to me for help, and I would be a bad best friend if I let your wife go into the Final Selection unprepared.”

Tengen hissed like an angry cat, “She could have gone to me.” 

His friend leveled him with a flat look, so unlike his usual sunny disposition. “The last time she saw you before you left, you called her a burden. Imagine how that must have felt. If I were her, I’d be already divorcing you. Really, she deserves better.”

Better. Better. Better.

The word echoed in his mind. She did deserve better; she deserved someone who would support her no matter what, who wouldn’t go behind her back and marry three other women- 

His brain circled around those thoughts almost constantly since she came back from that gods-forsaken Mission. What did she see in him that made her stay? Why did she decide to try - to accept their other wives in the polycule?  

More importantly, Tengen knew she was antsy, that she needed an outlet long before he left for the red district. Getting back in the field - into the fighting, and the blood, and the hurt - was one thing he also knew he could not support. He’d just gotten her back, and he was supposed to be fine with losing her again? 

No.

The answer was no. 

He would have never approved of her joining the corps. He was a bad husband. [Name] deserved someone like-

Kyojuro sipped on his tea, looking over the peaceful garden.

-someone like Kyojuro.

“How often has she come to you while I was gone?” Tengen blurted out before he could stop himself.

Your first mission as a demon slayer was very uneventful, the demon being weak and easily tracked down, even despite your inexperience. However, there was a Kakushi that had gotten hurt - completely unrelated to the demon, they stepped into a small hole in the ground and rolled their ankle - so you were carrying them to the Butterfly mansion, which was the closest, or so the Kakushi told you. And they were right.

Once you’d laid the Kakushi down on one of the sickbeds further inside the mansion, where they kept the less severe cases, you didn’t want to walk back through the intensive care wing - especially since it was past midnight. You took a detour through the gardens, where you saw a red-headed young man sit on the engawa.

You looked him over, the bandages standing out against his sun-kissed skin. You knew immediately who it was. “Thank you for being there for my husband, young Kamado,” you said, breaking the silence of the night as you approached him. Kyojuro had told you Kamado Tanjiro had a very good nose; he’d probably been able to smell you long before you came close to him. “It must not have been easy - fighting an Upper Moon.”

Tanjiro looked at you, tilting his head. “Husband? Uzui Tengen has… four wives?” To his credit, he didn’t look as surprised to hear the Sound pillar had one more wife hidden away though perhaps his expression was closer to disappointment.

“It should have been me,” you confessed. “In the entertainment district - it’s what I’ve been trained for, what I was born for, made for.” The bitterness in your voice seeped through.

He gave you a tired smile, “Uzui-san, it couldn’t be helped.”

“I would have helped… He didn’t want me to.” You didn’t know why you wanted to pour your heart out to the boy. There was something about him, something that reminded you of Kyojuro, of safety and home. “I would have been just a burden.” 

Tanjiro’s eyes softened, his expression sad, sympathetic to your plight. Yet he could say nothing, he only offered you an ear to listen, to take off your burden at his feet and go on with your life. He reached for your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I spent the time trying to become an asset instead.” Sleepless nights of the week pre-Final Selection came to your mind. You did your best to stop being a burden, and you achieved that; you had your dark gold sword, your Kasugai crow, and your duty. 

“I think…” he started uncertain, “You’re a warrior - were one even before you became a slayer, weren’t you? So you have never been a burden, nor a liability. Whoever made you think this way is wrong, Uzui-san.”

His words brought a slight smile to your face. “You’re too kind, young Kamado.”

Despite the reassurance, dark thoughts swirled in your mind. Still, Tengen’s opinion was branded into your mind, into your heart, your body set on fire and burning you alive with the same ache that had pulsed through your veins in the rhythm of your heartbeat when you came back. 

Tengen’s opinion hurt you as deeply as his betrayal had.

And it was hard to let go of it.

You were helping Makio with the dishes after dinner when Tengen finally came out with what’s been bothering him.

“Why did you decide to become a demon slayer?” his tone was a barely-restrained typhoon of emotions. 

You looked Makio in the eyes, and she understood immediately, drying off her hands on a rag and leaving the kitchen swiftly.

You both knew it was going to be a nasty fight. 

“Don’t be mad, okay?” You stood on your tippy toes and kissed his jaw gently, since that was all you could reach. Tengen had an unreadable expression on his face for a second before he practically dove in for a deep deep kiss, the force of his urgency making you lose your balance and you lost your balance, his body caging you against the counter.

As swift as a summer rain, the passion turned into anger. He tore himself away from you.

“Why the fuck are you doing this? Are you still hung up on the whole-!” Tengen gestured vaguely in a sharp movement.

You blinked a few times, refocusing on him.

But he didn’t let you answer. “Is this your revenge?” he growled, standing so close he cast shadow over you.

You huffed. “This is no revenge, Tengen. I just-”

“You just what? Your husband left on a life-threatening mission and you go dilly-dallying with his fucking best friend?”

“What? Are you being serious right now?” you could only gape at him, shock freezing you in place. “What the hell are you implying?”

Tengen grit his teeth. “What do you think? A lonely wife, soon to be a widow, in need of a husband. Oh look! There is one right here!”

You chuckled without humor, yet you found the situation wholly hilarious nonetheless. “Tengen, he has a girlfriend.”

“He what?”

“I thought you are his best buddy. Kyojuro’s nurse, Amiya? She’s his girlfriend. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”

Like a bucket of ice cold water over a fire, his anger was put out and he remembered.

That was my nurse, Amiya. She's a little shy but really nice to talk to. She’s actually-

You took a deep breath before giggling again, a little deranged.

Tengen took a step back. “I didn’t- I didn’t know.”

A mad laughter echoed in the room, and it surprised you to hear it was yours. “Really? You come back from a mission and you find your lonely wife, a would-be widow, found out about the joy of having a friend after years and years - and you what? Accuse her of cheating the first thing? Wow, you’re so fucking smart, aren’t you?” 

“[Name], I-” 

“No.” You Breathed, pushing him back and surprising him with your strength. “I never did that to you. Get yourself in the mirror and fucking look. Gods know there are many in our home.”

“Alright, I’m- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you of that,” Tengen took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I really am…”

“Yes, you better apologize. And you better apologize for one other thing, Lord Tengen,” you seethed. All the anger, the hurt and the pain bubbled together in a nasty concoction of negativity, a poison you intended to make him eat every drop of. 

Because he made you eat his.

“I- Precious, calm down-” He backed away a little seeing your darkening expression, “Okay, honey, don’t be calm.”

“That’s right. You don’t get to tell me what to do. I’m my own person, with ambitions and feelings - feelings, might I add, that you hurt with your loathsome comment-”

Nothing but a burden.

“- but really, I should thank you. I actually found something I can put my energy to now that I’m no longer a kunoichi,” your voice softened as you looked away. You didn’t want to let all be unforgiven, you just wanted to fix it, to embrace Tengen and be embraced by him - flaws, scars, and all.

The kitchen suddenly felt cold, you felt cold - as if you could never warm up enough. You were frozen to the marrow of your bones, and the chasm between the two of you seemed so dark and wide. You were an island in the middle of a sea.

But then he stepped closer. 

“Can I touch you?” his voice shook slightly. 

Your eyes met. 

You nodded. He reached out with both arms, his hand taking yours and pulling you closer, into a tight hug, his stump crushing you to his chest. “I’m sorry, precious... I kept thinking I could lose you, that I would lose you again so soon after I got you back. I didn’t want that, I wanted to keep you safe.” His breath hitched as he laid his cheek on the top of your head, breathing in your scent. 

“That doesn’t excuse your words.”

Tengen’s heart ached, your voice so small and wounded. “It doesn’t, and I swear I will do my best to make it up to you - for the rest of my life, every day. I swear on my existence that I will cherish you every day, from sunrise to sunset and from sunset to sunrise. You are my one and only, my precious.”

The reverent promises warmed your cold bones, bringing life back to where there was none. 

You’d long decided to stand by Tengen no matter what. You would forgive him. 

After a punishment.

The master bedroom was a work of art - especially for a polycule. Nearly all of it was a raised platform covered by one gigantic futon that could host ten or more people, with about a meter and a half from the walls on three sides as a walk-around. Perfect for what you had in mind.

“Ladies, take it easy-” he choked out. It was too much at once - Hinatsuru cupping his jaw and leaving hickeys, you giving attention to his nipples, sucking and biting them, and Makio at his cock, lapping at his flushed tip. Where was-?

He tried to reach out to push his wives away but felt a tug instead, his arms immobile behind his back. 

“Sum-aaahn~ Fuck!” Makio sucked him into her warm mouth, distracting him from Suma, who was skillfully weaving ropes around his arms; she was, after all, the best at shibari out of all his wives. Their plan slowly sank into his mind. It was hot, and he didn’t want it to stop.

Your nails trailed over his abdomen, Makio cupped his balls as she took more and more of him down her throat, and Hinatsuru practically devoured him with a deep kiss, taking his breath away. His mind went blank.

“Done!”

At the signal, all of his wives took a step back, leaving him panting and aching for more. His face was flushed and his eyes a little hazy. “Wha-?”

Makio grinned, wiping a little bit of drool from her face. “Did you really think this night is about you?” she tutted.

“Exactly, Tengen-sama. You’ve had our wife all to yourself for weeks. It’s our turn,” added Hinatsuru, turning to you. “As long as the First wife approves.” 

You smiled shyly, face hot, yet turned on. It was all a show, just for Tengen. Hinatsuru had already asked you in private if you’d consider a night like that, since the three felt the need to punish him for his transgressions as well. If he already wasn’t regretting crossing his women, he would be after tonight.

“What are we waiting for?” Suma skipped over to you, grabbing you by the yukata and kissing you deeply. You squeaked in surprise at her forwardnes but kissed her back. She tasted sweet, like mochi - you now knew for certain she ate it despite being told not to. 

The mochi was quickly forgotten when you felt your obi loosen. Suma’s hands went into your hair as she kept you occupied. Deft fingers pushed your yukata off your shoulders, another pair of hands going up to cup and play with your breasts.

“Girls, come on… I’m here, why don’t you use me for your pleasures?” Tengen’s voice was faint to you, as was Makio’s response, your head underwater despite breathing fine.

The hands at your breasts disappeared, leaving you cold, your nipples hard from arousal and the change in temperature both. Suma pushed you backwards, until your calves met the raised platform bed. She finally pulled back, someone - Hinatsuru - gently making you sit, then lay on the mattress. 

“You look so cute when you’re all flustered… Your eyes are so lost,” she leaned over you and kissed your lips softly. You chased after her for more, but she only giggled. “It makes me want to ruin you~” She smirked. “In a good way, of course.”

Tengen could only stare in mute shock at what was unfolding in front of him. All his wives turned on him, tied him up, and ignored him, seeking pleasure from each other instead of using him as their play toy. The truth of the situation slowly sank into his mind as he watched Makio replace Hinatsuru in teasing you, and Suma help Hinatsuru into a strap-on harness - a strap-on that was an exact copy of his own cock! They could just use him!

“Girls… I’m right here~ My hands are a bit tied though…” Tengen nearly whined, trying to make eye contact with any of them, only for all four women to be focusing on each other instead of him.

“Sweetie, would you mind…?” 

You looked up to see Hinatsuru with a big strap-on, waving it in your face. You opened your mouth and started to give it sloppy kisses, getting it all wet with your saliva, as you looked up into her eyes. She was smiling down at you, petting your hair gently.

There was a brief conversation behind you but you could only focus on her as she guided you down the cock, making you gag slightly. Hinatsuru pulled back and let you go at your own pace, telling you how good you were for her and how lovely you look taking the strap down your throat.

“Mhm, I think it’s wet enough, isn’t it?” She cupped your jaw and slowly slid you off of it, a string of saliva connecting your lips and the tip of it before it snapped. “Makio, come here.”

Gentle hands hugged you from the back, open-mouthed kisses worshiping your shoulders as Suma moved you back a bit to make place for your other wife.

“Mommy is going to make you feel good,” Hinatsuru cooed at Makio, turning her around and pushing her to her hands and knees. “Present for me, babygirl.”

Makio arched her back, balancing on her forearm to spread her already-soaked pussy, the sight making Hinatsuru blush in delight. She took the strap by the base and teased her wife by going up and down between her pussy lips. Makio whimpered and tried to push herself back on it, very nearly succeeding, when Hinatsuru spanked her ass lightly.

“Be good for me, okay?” Nevertheless, she pushed the strap inside agonizingly slowly, Makio moaning at the feeling. She used both hands to support herself now that the cock was in. “You can only cum if you make [Name] cum, babygirl. Sound fair?”

Makio smirked, though it lacked the usual sass, each slow thrust taking more of her brattiness away. “Yes, mommy~” 

Suma pushed you down to lay in front of Makio, spreading your legs with soothing strokes on your thighs. “Let her make you feel good~” She positioned you to half-lay on her lap, one of her hands coming up to caress your breasts and play with your nipples gently.

Hinatsuru thrust in roughly exactly once, and it was to push Makio’s head in between your thighs, forcing her to start pleasuring you. She licked at your clit with just the tip of her tongue, drawing circles and infinity symbols; the long-forgotten feeling of someone going down on you ignited a blaze inside your belly, making you gasp and clutch onto the bedding. 

Suma took hold of your wrist and placed your hand on Makio’s head, whispering lowly, “She likes it when you pull her hair~” Hearing that, you tugged at her hair a little, her moans only adding to your pleasure, the vibrations feeling heavenly.

“F-fuck-” you breathed out shakily, wanting to pull away yet push her head closer to you, already overwhelmed. 

Makio dove in, sucking at your puffy clit gently, laving it with the attention it deserved. She made her way down, grazing the tip along your slit as she continued to make little sounds from Hinatsuru fucking her. Flattening her tongue, she hungrily ate you, a woman on a mission.

Hinatsuru looked up from the lewd display in front of her to look at her husband. Tengen was mesmerized, staring at all of them, before he caught her gaze. She caressed Makio’s asscheeks before delivering a sharp smack, earning her a loud moan from Makio, and subsequently another from you. His face flushed a deep red, lips pressed together in frustration. All the while, Hinatsuru kept eye contact with him, a smug smile stretching her perfect lips.

You tensed, crying out and thrashing in Suma’s embrace, hand harshly gripping at Makio’s hair as you rode wave after wave of pleasure. 

“Shhh, you look so lovely when you cum, don’t you, princess?” Suma whispered in your ear, hot air caressing your sensitive spot as you shivered. “Did you see how good Makio ate you out? Isn’t she pretty when her mouth is occupied and not sprouting nonsense?”

You could scarcely choke out a word, quickly tipping into overstimulation. Hinatsuru, bless her, noticed and roughly pulled Makio back on her strap, pulling her face out of your pussy as she whined and moaned.

Suma rubbed your thighs in comfort; you just tried to catch your breath, coming down to Earth from the Heavens you were in.

“Are you with me? Ready for your lesson, princess?” 

“L-lesson?” you tried to get your bearing, while Suma turned you around gently, shuffling back a little, her cunt nearly in your face. 

“Why, of course~” She grinned. “You need to learn how to eat out a pussy. Did you pay attention to Makio? If not, that’s fine. Come, I’ll be your teacher today~”

You looked at her with half-lidded eyes, saliva pooling in your mouth as you processed what she wanted you to do. You wanted to try, wanted to taste her, wanted to find out how to please her and how to perform your wifely duties to her. The curiosity of the entire act burned inside of you.

You laid on your belly, your lips just inches from the well of ambrosia awaiting you. You give a first tentative lick, the tip of your tongue swirling around Suma’s clit, making her sigh out in pleasure.

“That’s good, princess.” Whispered praises left her lips, instructing you how exactly she liked it, where to lick, where to suck, when to slow down and speed up. Gentle fingers threaded through your hair, reassuring you and grounding you.

You alternated between her sweetness and her puffy nub as she guided you through your first oral, the taste so addicting to you and the praises intoxicating. Her moans only made you wetter, made you anticipate what’s coming next in the night as you enjoyed Suma’s depths for all she gave. Her thighs quivered around your head, the sounds of ecstasy resonating in your ears when her legs didn’t squeeze you involuntarily.

Your face was flushed, you could hardly breathe; you ate and ate until she was screaming and creaming around your tongue, hot pussy juices flooding your mouth. 

“You did so well for me, haaah- princess,” Suma caressed you, easing you off of her with a shaky hand. “How was it?”

You licked your lips and looked up at her shyly. “I liked it very much.” The admission earned you a smile and a deep kiss, before Makio patted both your shoulders. Her thighs shook a little as she winked and then tilted her head in the direction of your husband.

You all shared a secret grin, turning to him at once.

"Heh, I knew you would want my cock eventually," Tengen smirked. You gave him an unimpressed stare.

Makio circled him and bent forward to hug him from the back, whispering in his ear seductively. "Worry not, pretty boy. Once we've used you as we want, you're being put back on the shelf. You see," she grinned evilly, "we don't need you to get our pleasure." Her arms tightened around him, a silent warning to not move.

Hinatsuru laid in front of Tengen, her legs spread on each side of his thighs as if she were offering herself to him. She patted your thigh to draw your attention. "Sweetie, paint me with his cum. I want it all over me~"

The nickname made your cheeks heat up. You nodded enthusiastically and shuffled closer to Tengen.

His lone eye was lidded, face flushed and lips parted as he looked on in anticipation of what was coming. His cock twitched right before your palm met his flesh, the spongy tip an angry red and weeping precum. You held it steady and opened your mouth, letting your saliva drip down on it, using it as lubricant along with his precum to stroke him. Tengen let out a breathy “Fuuuhk-” when you started a steady pace, putting both of your hands to use. You swept your thumb over the mushroom head with each pass, paying attention to what he liked. It was your goal to make him finish, after all.

“Come on, be our good boy and cum quick~ We need your cum~” Makio whispered into his ear in a sultry voice. Tengen whimpered.

Your hands were firm around his cock, unrelenting as you worked him towards his release; the weight of him in your hands was familiar yet new at the same time. His balls hung heavy and you cupped them with one of your hands, fingers deftly massaging him for the sweet treat inside.

Tengen cursed like a sailor, first spurt of semen shooting out with enough force to land near Hinatsuru’s neck. You didn’t stop, trying to squeeze the most you could out of him as he painted a masterpiece on his wife.

"Good job. Now you sit here nice and pretty for us. Such a good decoration to our pleasure, hmm?"

You, Makio and Suma all descended upon Hinatsuru with the hunger of starving hyenas. Licking at her cum-stained skin, you cleaned every beautiful inch of her as she closed her eyes, enjoying every second of it. 

Tengen could only stare again, humiliated for the n-th time that evening. Yet again he was forced to sit and watch his wives go at it, barely giving him a taste of the pleasures they gifted each other so lovingly, using him as a source of cum to continue the hedonistic display in front of him. He felt shamed, and unbelievably turned on.

Makio’s head bumped into yours by accident, prompting you both to look up. Your eyes met, an animalistic impulse taking over as you locked your lips together, Tengen’s cum shining like lip gloss on both of your lips. So engrossed in each other, you forgot all about the audience you had, everything a blur as your tongues danced.

“Time to fuck that attitude out of you, brat.” 

Makio’s head was yanked from you, a string of saliva stretching and snapping between the two of you as Suma tugged her back by her hair. Makio was forced to support herself with her hands on Tengen’s thighs, making him blush deeply at the sight. A sharp smack echoed in the room.

Warm hands coiling around your torso distracted you from your stolen lover. Palms with small calluses ran over your breasts, the rough parts catching on your nipples as you were pulled away and down to lay your head on a pillow. Hinatsuru laid beside you, foreheads touching, air shared between you.

“Do you want to learn how to make me feel good?” she whispered, eyes searching yours for any hesitancy. 

You had none though. “Yes, please… Mommy.” Your face felt hot at the nickname you called her, but Hinatsuru only smiled gently, cupping your face.

“Of course, sweetie.” Her fingertips trailed down your throat, your chest, belly, making you shiver and goosebumps spread over your skin at her feather-light touch. At last, her hand stroked your thigh, raising it a little to allow her access to your most intimate place, two fingers delving between your pussy lips. You drew a shaky breath.

“Close your eyes,” Hinatsuru whispered to your ear. “Feel my fingers, focus on how I do it…” You gasped as her thumb circled your puffy clit oh so gently. “Copy what I do to you, hmm? Can you do that for me, sweetie?” Her motions slowed down, waiting for you to start doing as she ordered.

Your hand hesitantly trailed down her side to the apex of her thighs, dipping down to her entrance to wet your fingers before you began copying her. Her shaky moan signaled you were doing it somewhat right. 

“Feel me?”

You hummed breathlessly, leaning against her neck, panting slightly. You weren’t ready for the pleasure her digits brought but you tried to focus on copying her movements. Each flick, circle and thrust was met blow-for-blow on her own pussy. You bit your lip as you felt her huffing into your hair.

“You’re doing so well, sweetie. Just relax and enjoy it, hmm?” 

You could hardly relax when she brought you pleasure so expertly - each circle on your clit winding the knot inside tighter and tighter, making you see stars even before your release.

“Let go for me, babygirl.”

You cried out, losing control over your fingers as you shattered on Hinatsuru’s. Tears gathered at your lash line while she shushed you, still stimulating you gently, prolonging the waves of pleasure as they crashed upon you.  

“So adorable. You sound so cute when you cum, sweetie.” She took hold of your hand and ground down on you. “Now, be a good girl and let mommy use you- ah!” 

Hinatsuru didn’t bother to muffle her moans, chasing her own la petite mort. You watched in awe when she came, her pussy walls squeezing your fingers, more slick coming out of her. Her whole body trembled and she no longer had to control you as you made sure to gently bring her down to Earth, steering clear of her clit to not overstimulate her.

A lewd sound accompanied you taking your fingers away from her. You looked at them, all sopping wet with her essence; before you could stop yourself, you were licking it all up. Hinatsuru giggled a little and cuddled close to you once you were done, giving you a sweet kiss on your lips.

Makio’s face was right in Tengen’s, each snap of Suma’s hips driving her closer to her orgasm, her breasts swaying back and forth, her nails digging into his thighs painfully. He could not look away; he ached with need, his weeping cock begging for attention, tears nearly filling his eyes from the frustration. Just behind Makio and Suma were Hina and you, coming down from your respective highs, cuddling and not paying attention to him at all.

Why? He was right there! Why didn't you or Hina or any of them give him any relief? He truly felt he didn’t deserve this…

Makio went taunt suddenly, her eyes rolling back and her arms losing their strength, nearly falling into his lap. Suma laughed breathlessly at that and slowly pulled the strap out of Makio’s pussy, the fake dick bouncing a little. With a few tugs on the harness, she was free of it, a few indents showing on her thighs from how tightly she tied the straps.

Extra appendage discarded, it was time to untie Tengen, who’d fallen uncharacteristically silent.

Makio was crawling to the cuddling duo, completely spent, when the last knots fell loose. 

Tengen Breathed.

Suma was on her back before she knew what was going on, her legs spread wide open. “Eh?” was all she could say when her husband’s large form caged her in, the tip of his rock hard cock already at her entrance. Her yelp alerted the other wives that something was wrong, but Tengen was beyond the point of caring. He thrust inside with one smooth move, groaning loudly like a cheap whore, immediately setting a punishing pace on his Second wife.

All other sounds fell away other than the lewd wet smacks of skin-on-skin. Suma’s face became flushed very quickly, clawing at his shoulders while he rendered her guts to pieces with his harshness. A beautiful mix of pleasure and pain. 

He brought his hand down to her clit, circling it the exact way she loved. Tears filled her eyes as her release approached rapidly. Tengen had still not said a thing. He was just staring at her, groaning softly, sweat making his hair stick to his neck and face, which was set in a beautifully pussy-drunk expression. 

She was lost, her back arching as she clung to him. The fluttering of her pussy made him let out sounds reminiscent of a dying man and still deep inside her, painting her walls white. Tengen pulled out slowly, still hard, throbbing and far from done. He did nothing to stop his cum from leaking out, turning to the rest of his wives.

Makio was already dozing off, despite the commotion, so that eased his burden so to speak. Tengen shuffled closer in a few quick motions, grabbing Hinatsuru’s ankle and yanking her to him, her noise of surprise drowned by his feral growl.

She laid on her stomach, so Tengen just straddled her thighs and spread her asscheeks open, pushing inside her wet pussy roughly. Hinatsuru angled her hips to take him in deeper, fucking herself back on him and moaning at the feeling of his cock rubbing against all the right spots. "T-Tengen, slow down!"

You could only stare wide-eyed as your husband railed Hinatsuru like a beast, his stump resting on the small of her back, arching her up even more, and his hand clutching the back of her neck. You glanced at Makio on your side, long since passed out, and then Suma, who was dozing with cum oozing out of her.

You weren’t scared of Tengen, per se, but this was new. You had never seen him go crazy like this. It made you gush with wetness at the display, your fingers reaching down to play with yourself.

His furious pace with Hinatsuru slowed down, though not any less powerful. He leaned over her, his whole body covering hers as he put his weight on his forearms, grinding into her with each roll of his hips, her eyes crossing a little, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. Tengen started to whisper in her ear; you could not hear what he said, but Hinatsuru’s eyes met yours, conveying a silent message you could not understand. Was it pity or something else entirely?

Smack.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Tengen spanked her, grinning widely, staring down at her. “Say my name,” he commanded her in a gravelly voice.

Hinatsuru desperately clutched the bedding - trying to remain in place or fuck herself back on him, you didn’t know - as she stuttered out a weak “T-Ten-gen-!”

“Louder!” 

“T-Tengen!”

A quick rhythm of pap pap pap echoed in the room, you couldn’t look away, you could scarcely breathe. And then, Hinatsuru could scarcely breathe, when he wound his left arm around her neck, using the thick muscles to keep her in place while he had his fun.

Her face was red, mouth falling open in an ‘o’.

“Oh fuck- I’m cumming-” he choked out hugging Hinatsuru close, burying his face in her neck and groaning as if he were dying, letting up the pressure on her neck. She just whimpered meekly, grinding back against him, closing her eyes and leaning her head against his in an intimate touch. 

You suddenly felt like a voyeur. You wiped your wetness on your thigh, quickly pulling a loose blanket over yourself, embarrassed. 

There was a loud squelch and another whimper from Hinatsuru.

You chanced a look, your eyes widening.

It was clear Tengen’s mania did not pass yet, his cock still hard and twitching. “What, did you think I’d forget my dearest wife?” He loomed over you, his huge body casting a shadow, like a predator about to devour his prey. “Whether you're ready or not, here I come, precious…”

You felt like the temperature of the room rose a few degrees, watching him come closer to you, length bouncing, covered in slick and cum. You thought he must be pretty overstimulated, it should be easy to last…

How wrong you were.

Like an animal let out of his cage, he pounced. The last two creampies only took the edge off; your fellow wives were dozing off quietly while you were about to get ravaged. 

Tengen practically tore the blanket from your body, leaning closer and blocking your escape, his forearms framing your head. “Why are you hiding from me, precious? Are you scared?”

You trembled from a mix of arousal and anticipation. 

His wine red eye searched both of yours intently, waiting for your response. When you said nothing, he whispered, “Remember our safe word?”

Jade, or three taps on any part of his body with your fingers.

You nodded.

“You can still use it at any time,” he murmured. “Say it, or use our non-verbal signal, and I’m going to stop. Do you understand?” 

You nodded again, making him sigh in relief.

Then, Tengen grinned, dropping all the worries he had; happy you were both on the same page. Now he was free to do as he pleased - as long as you didn’t stop him. “Then… Say you’re mine…” he leaned in even more, hovering just centimeters above your lips, your breaths mingling. “...pet.”

You exhaled harshly, the nickname doing things to you, his closeness, his voice, his scent… All of it an intoxicating mix of pure Tengen. “I’m… yours.” 

“Hm? I didn’t hear you. Say it louder,” he whispered breathily, eye half-lidded. “Come on, be a good girl. You know you want to be~”

Your face felt hot at the intensity of his attention. “I’m yours.”

“Exactly, precious - mine to touch…” His right hand caressed your cheek, tilting your face up. “Mine to kiss…” he breathed out, diving in for a deep and sensual kiss that stole your breath away. “Mine to do whatever I please…” His hand traced down your neck gently as he kissed you again. “You’ve been naughty…”

His lips left your own; instead trailing open-mouthed and hot kisses on your throat.

“Teasing me all evening…”

Your pussy clenched around nothing, his cock bumping on your clit as he tried to position himself hands-free.

"Minxes-"

His tip caught at your entrance and he slid in with a low groan, your heat and wetness driving him near-mad already.

"You were so gorgeous, all of you." 

In, and out, in and out - each time quicker and quicker, yet the way he took you could hardly be called graceful. It was an animalistic and desperate pace, all about pleasure and none about being pretty.

He leaned back a little, holding his weight on his hand. "Hold onto me," he panted out. "C'mon raise those hips f'me, precious." 

You tightened your thighs on his hips, gripping as much as you could with his disharmonic thrusts, and arched your back off of the bed. His cock hit a very sensitive spot inside making you groan at the sensation and nearly slip down as you lost strength; Tengen used his left forearm to stabilize you as he fully raised himself upright on his knees, his right hand helping his thrusts.

He groaned, “You’re fucking perfect - and all mine, only mine.”

You could only mewl in response, your orgasm quickly approaching. 

As did his.

“Fuck- fuckfuck, I’m coming, I’m coming-comingcomingcomin-!” he chanted over and over, falling over and putting nearly his whole weight on you as his hips stuttered. He leaned on his left forearm above your head to ease off of you a little, still slamming away into you, rhythmless and sloppy.

Heat filled you, setting you off like fireworks. Your pussy milked him for all he was worth, each spasm accompanied by a whimper from you.

“I can’t stop my hips- It feels so good, ngh-!” His semen spilled out of you with each slap of skin against skin, his pubic bone bumping against your clit and creating a burning ache there. Tears filled your eyes when finally he groaned out, "Fuuuhck-" You felt his hot cum spill inside you again, making you wonder where your husband acquired such libido and stamina while you were away. 

Tengen slowed down at last, his body trembling above yours as he hid his face in your neck, panting. Your arms were boneless and refused to keep any semblance of coordination; nevertheless you hugged him loosely, one hand tangling in his sweaty locks. You untied his eye-patch and dropped it at your side, fingers returning to his scalp.

Each breath became longer and longer, his rutting finally coming to a stop. 

He huffed and kissed your neck gently. "Gonna pull out now-" he grunted when your pussy spasmed around him, clearly overstimulated. He finally pulled out fully, for the first time since sinking into your heat, and nearly got hard at the sight again. 

His cum was smeared all over your thighs and more still was leaking out of your puffy pussy. He could not resist - his hand gathering some of the pearly white, reaching up and smearing it all over your tits. 

"Hey!" you protested half-heartedly.

Tengen laughed, still a little breathless. “Not sorry.” He gave you a short but insanely soft kiss, before standing up and walking to the door. “Stay where you are.” His form disappeared.

You relaxed, the gentle breathing of your wives soothing you. That was… something. You had never been with a woman before, nor had you had an orgy, or really been with anyone other than Tengen, but this felt good, this felt nice. Overwhelming, but neverending pleasure. Giving and taking freely. No pressure. Just ecstasy.

Tengen came back, carrying a small bucket of water and a few rags, each a different color. He gave you a wink and knelt next to Suma first, wetting one of the rags and cleaning her up, his gentle motions a clear worship to his wife. Once clean, he scooped her up and carried her over to the other side of the room-futon. Suma had not stirred once.

You rolled onto your side to watch him work as he moved onto Makio. Hers was swift, yet Tengen kept pausing every time she mumbled something in her sleep. Finished, he carried her to Suma, who immediately cuddled Makio to her chest. He threw a blanket over both of them as they snuggled for warmth.

Watching him care for them told you how deeply he loved each one, how devoted he was. Oddly enough, you didn’t feel jealous. Perhaps it’s the remnants of shinobi culture lurking in your brain, though the thought didn’t comfort you at all.

Hinatsuru groaned when he cleaned up his spend from her thighs, the water clearly going cold with time. Tengen shushed her softly, speeding up so he could get her to be with the others quicker. 

With the girls, Hinatsuru rolled over, pressing herself up against Makio, seeking warmth.

At last, it was your turn.

“You’re shakin'…” You didn’t even notice until he pointed it out. He quickly grabbed the last wet rag and wiped you down gently. The water was lukewarm. “I’m right here, precious.” 

His own body seemed clean enough, so he’d already done that for himself in the bathroom probably. You reached out and placed one of your hands on his thigh, right over the marks Makio left on him, hoping to provide him with a little of the comfort he brought you. Tengen smiled at that gesture.

“You did a good job, makin’ me feel good.”

You hummed. “And you did a good job making me feel fantastic,” you whispered as he finally wiped the drying cum off of your chest. 

His hand slowed a little. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“No, you were just right.”

He leaned down to give you a tender kiss, the forearm of his left arm caressing your cheek oh so gently, it made you tear up a little. This man, your husband, worshiped you like a goddess. Your love for him swelled in your chest, your heart pumping heavily as if it wanted to beat out of your body. You felt loved - loved, cherished, appreciated. It was a heady feeling, a drug which made you crave even more of his soft attention and veneration. 

You could only hope he understood the power he had over you.

Tengen set the rag on the rim of the bucket and put it beside the futon. You got to your knees to join the others when your husband snatched you up, making you yelp a little. He was grinning. “Can’t have you walking after your first night in our flashy group, can I?”

You giggled quietly when he laid you down, himself between you and Hinatsuru, who felt a greater warmth from his side than from Makio’s and rolled over to him. You reached out and threw a blanket over all three of you.

Despite your tiredness, you allowed Tengen to pull you even closer against him, bestowing another adoring kiss to the crown of your head. One of your arms stretched over him, tracing idle patterns on his chest - characters, words, should he pay enough attention to notice them.

I adore you.

I never want to leave your side.

I want to make you happy.

You make me happy.

I'm yours.

You're mine.

We are husband and wives, a family unit, never to be separated.

You closed your eyes and drifted off.

[jester-lover]

I’m sorry if this is a bother or if your requests aren’t open, feel free to ignore this!

I totally loved the Cinderella one shot you did with the first years, could you do one with the same concept but with the dorm heads? (Or if not all of them, Malleus, Azul and Leona) thank you! 💙

Magic Moment

W/ the Dorm Leaders! + PLATONIC! Trein (I had to for this ask, the same as the last one) FIRST YEARS VERS.

this was literally one of my favorite works I've ever done, thank you for this.

CW/ Fem! Reader, fluff, shyness, nervousness, MR. TREIN BEING A BETTER ADOPTIVE FATHER THAN CROWLEY, I tried to leave the dress details vague, but the general ballgown shape is mentioned, late night walks>>>

As you took a couple of deep breaths and frantically straightened the shining expense of your lush, glimmering ball gown, the echo of music in the ballroom hummed gently. The silken gloves felt lovely against the smooth skin of your freshly manicured fingers. For once in your turbulent school life, you allowed yourself to feel beautiful.

 You could hear the happy gnawing sounds made by Grim, who was enjoying a comically large turkey leg. Such a sight would have usually made you laugh if you weren't solely focused on your pounding heartbeat and nauseating nervousness. The sounds of the ballroom music were still picking up as the events of the night were only about to begin.

 You felt a warm, fatherly presence by your side, and you turned to see Professor Trein in formal navy-colored robes. His lips curled into a comforting smile as a look of sweet nostalgia filled his eyes.

 “I believe the event is about to start; you have absolutely nothing to fear…”

 His words trailed off as the other professors called him to join them in the waiting room. The words caught in your throat, but you managed to give him a quick response.

 “Thank you, professor!”

 Holding your head up a little higher, you gripped onto the delicate fabric of your dress, and a smile enchanted your features as you walked forward towards the grand hall. As you opened up the door and stepped onto the wide golden staircase, you realized that all eyes were on you.

 Your dress flowed downward gracefully, as if you were a bird, walking slowly down the steps so as to not ruin your pair of strangely comfortable glass heels.

 The beautiful hall was ornately decorated, the sweet-smelling dessert tables were framed with rose petals, and fresh lilies wrapped themselves around the pillars holding up the stained glass ceiling. The elegantly dressed young men in the room seemed to pause in unison as you took small, unsure steps down to the base of the staircase.

 With that many eyes on you, peering into your very soul and seeping into any small bit of exposed flesh, the nervousness in your bones returned tenfold.

 However, when you saw him standing there, everything was truly magical once again.

 Riddle

A sound close to a sigh leaves Riddle’s lips as he takes in the sight of you.

Rushing into the crowd of clamoring boys, he quickly gets to your side and composes himself.

“How indignant, crowding around a young lady as if she doesn’t need personal space! I will have all of your heads for such an offense!”

And he will most likely collar a couple people, but after the ball, after he dances with you, of course!

Despite being taught (rather vigorously) to dance formally, he’s very shy about being so close to you, and in such a public environment too!

Riddle tries his best to give you a nice moment; he knows how stressed out you are on a daily basis, and the experience is beautiful for the both of you.

He wears a burgundy suit with frilly sleeves and an almost delicate collar, complemented by a black tie.

The two of you dance for a brief half hour before leaving for the quietness of the front entrance steps.

The low lighting and gentle nighttime breeze calm Riddle down enough to start a light conversation.

….which proceeds to last the two of you until midnight.

Riddle will walk you home afterwards, like a true gentleman should.

Perhaps a little more red-faced than he intended to be.

“Tonight was so wonderful…maybe we could do something like this again..?”

 Leona

A smile forms on Leona’s face the moment he sees you, parting confidently through the crowds of rambunctious teenage boys, he takes your hand gently in his own before pressing a kiss against your gloved wrist.

“Herbivore… I think you owe me a dance for all those times you ruined my sleep…”

Leona’s movements as he pulls you into a dance are sharp and precise, he wants to impress you with his abilities and show you how much better he is than any other suitor who may dare to pursue you.

His head rests on top of yours, taking in the delicate scent of your perfume as he sways you side to side.

As the music continues, he sees you grow a bit tired and steps aside with you, away from the crowd and closer to the windows.

The two of you banter onwards about your personal lives, mostly him telling lighthearted stories about his nephew.

The time slips away so soon, and your gentle mixed laughter soon fills an empty hall, prompting a quick exit.

He walks you home with your arms linked and his blazer over your shoulders, protecting you from the cold nighttime air.

As soon as you reach the steps of Ramshackle, he seems almost hesitant to let you go, the year of joy and tenderness he got with you comes flooding back to him.

“I know I don't usually get all sappy…but I can really see myself building a life with you…”

He kisses you on your forehead and only lets go of your hand as you walk through your front door.

Azul

A sharp gasp escapes from Azul as he speeds towards you, almost tripping against the air as he pushes against the other young men in the room, whispering small apologies to anyone he practically runs over.

Azul blushes when he sees you, but musters up enough courage to take your hand in his.

“In return for your help at the Lounge, I wish to offer you a dance!”

(Let him have this, please; he can’t talk to women.)

His moves while slow dancing are a bit stiff, but the calm atmosphere loosens him up enough to look decent and presentable.

This boy has horrible endurance, and the two of you stop dancing pretty quickly.

Azul steadily moves into the crowd of young men with you on his arm, a pep in his step like never before.

He’s an opportunistic businessman, so this ball of sorts constitutes the perfect networking opportunity for him.

The two of you small talk with a lot of people, spurring rumors about your closeness.

Fairly soon after the event, he decides to walk you back to Ramshackle, where he kisses your hand and bids you goodnight.

“If you have any free time, perhaps we can do something like this again..?”

Kalim

Kalim smiles brightly and rushes forward to you, the crowd parting ways for him, a beaming ray of sunlight basically leaping towards you.

His hands brush against yours as he presses a charming kiss to your gloved fingers, leading you toward the center of the practically vacant dancefloor as the music slows.

“I’ve had dreams about a moment like this!”

Kalim’s style of dancing is more fast-paced and lighthearted, spinning you around and dipping you haphazardly.

Making you laugh is his first priority, and he achieves it pretty quickly.

After dancing, he invites you to eat something alongside him—something quick and sweet, like cake or ice cream.

The two of you talk about your homelands, which mostly consists of him telling you about all the sights you’ll see when he takes you to his.

Kalim won’t realize it's late until you let him know.

Then he’ll walk you home, joking about how carried away the two of you got.

Right before you enter Ramshackle, he’ll press a kiss on your cheek and practically beam if you reciprocate it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe we could get lunch together!”

Vil

The sheer confidence Vil exhibits as he walks towards you is the polar opposite of the general uneasiness he feels inside.

I mean, usually he wouldn't care about the rest of those potatoes, but as he walked down rows of well-dressed boys, it seemed like everyone had ramped up their looks for the night.

Suddenly, he wasn't the brightest star in the sky.

However, when he got to your side and saw the look of awe in your eyes, everything fell into place for him again.

“You look enchanting, I’m glad you’ve been taking my fashion advice seriously.”

Vil dances almost like a bird, moving as if the music is chasing after him.

He’s tough to keep up with on the dance floor; he’s just so speedy, but he holds on to you quite tightly.

Being so close to Vil, he presses his head close to your neck and holds your waist sweetly. His slender hands are firm, guiding you.

You can probably see Rook in your peripheral vision, snapping photos (and maybe tearing up in sheer joy).

Because of his celebrity status, the two of you can’t exactly leave without a massive paparazzi presence.

So you decide to sneak out of a back door, something he considers improper but necessary.

The walk home is quiet but comfortable, and Vil’s hand is intertwined with yours.

When you reach the broken gate to Ramshackle House, he presses a kiss on your temple, leaving a pinkish stain.

“Remember to take off that makeup before bed, Potato. I’ll see you for breakfast this morning.”

Idia

Idia would rather be anywhere but here, but maybe that grand entrance cutscene wasn’t all that bad…

Unlike the other boys, Idia would not go after you first.

Instead, he would go find a place where no one would pester him.

Maybe after dancing quite formally and inflexibly with a boring cast of young men, you get quite socially tired and wander off, looking for a place to be alone for a bit.

That is how you find Idia, sitting on the floor in the empty kitchen section of the venue.

“H-hey! You of all people—you weren’t supposed to find me..”

Tiredly sitting down next to him, your big poofy dress impairing you from comfortably slouching.

You looked like a sad bear, just tired and done.

His face is burning so hard, it's crazy that the fire alarms have not gone off yet.

Idia raises a shaking hand to pat your back gently, placing his tablet on your lap.

“Wanna see the 3D model for my new desk…? I-I don’t know… you seem kinda bored.”

Cue the massive tangent he goes on about how horrible the dance is and how tiresome social interaction is with IRL people.

After some point, you start laughing at how ridiculously exasperated he sounds.

You two sneak out of the back door of the venue soon before the event is over.

Idia walks you home reluctantly, before realizing how cliche such a moment is and lowkey squealing a little into his hands.

He stays outside the doors of Ramshackle but waves you goodbye quickly.

You take the chance and kiss his cheek, prompting him to walk away from you, saying bye again in a slightly lower tone before turning his heel and walking away.

Malleus

It's safe to assume he’s waited for this moment since he’s met you.

Malleus steps towards you, any other person within his eyesight stepping out of it in fear or confusion.

He takes your hands in his and gives you a sweet smile, his towering form almost obscuring you from the peering eyes of the room.

“Might I be selfish this once and have your first dance?”

As the two of you dance, his guiding hand completely envelops yours, his eyes catching any missed steps and correcting you with a nudge in the right direction.

Circling around the marbled flooring, he holds you by your back and dips you by your waist.

It’s a scene straight out of a period piece.

The dimmed lights and moving crowd alert Malleus that the other festivities are starting, but he doesn’t want to waste a second out of your sight.

“Come along, Child of Man, we barely get a moment to ourselves these days…”

Your arm links around his as the two of you leave from the front entrance, evading the eyes of his retainers and sneaking off down the street.

Malleus listens to you ramble on about whatever fuels your curiosity.

Being in a new world must be difficult, and he finds your questions amusing.

When you reach the front door of Ramshackle, his hands find yours, and he pauses for a brief moment, like he’s debating something in his head.

Leaning downward, Malleus’s hair falls against his shoulders as you look up at him. Your lips connect for a brief moment before you walk back into your dorm.

He stands there for a moment, watching you walk in with a sweet smile on his face as he hears the voice of a familiar green-haired retainer yelling out for him.

The cool night air that filters through the cracked windows of Ramshackle House serves to calm you down after a long night of dancing and socializing. You lay on the dusty couch, still clad in your oversized ball gown, sparkling in the dim candlelight.

Grim was asleep beside you, his warm, fluffy fur pressed against your arm, and his gentle purring made your painted eyelids flutter with tiredness.

You thought back to the unforgettable night; spending time with him was a memory to cherish forever.

 As you shook your arm to try and remove Grim, you realized he wouldn't budge, succumbing to your fate. You smiled and closed your eyes.

A wonderful ending to a wonderful night.

[deesseshesca]

PILE 1

His veiny hands, his strong bicep, his tattoo and the fact that everything he does screams masculinity. He’s amazing knowledge in alcohol or the fucking way he drive a car with so much assurance. His signature perfume and the way he never talks loud but always what's right. Did you ever find a man in finance this secure in himself with no God complex…yeah no that doesn't exist. But it's only right that he feels for you. The more I spend time observing you … I understand why he's falling… I am 2 .. I guess. Let’s start by the creativity that breathes out of you with everything you do. Is like you are in love with the whole woman's experience which can be seen by the way you take care of your hair ; long and healthy. You don't just stop there, you color them and style it  anytime you want. The freckles that decorate your face like you are living painting. Your perfect nose and small but luscious lips. Is the way you are fine not being everyone's type and you don't care to change. You with your long and beautifully manicured nails. The way you love on your body unapologetically even though is not the standard in modern beauty. You never complain about your boobs being too big, your butt being too small or even your hips being too wide. Nah you wear whatever you want. Flowing dress, deep cut shirt with no bra not caring that your tits are sagging. What makes you even more intrigued is the complexity that lives beneath your beauty, elegance and confidence. You fucking love cars, passionate about it. I would have never guessed it, I would think you were an artist or even a mua but nah mamacita is trying to become an engineer. Is almost like life never hurted, never controlled, never took the best out of you. You decide to be your own person no matter what and your authenticity can be seen, admired, and envy by many including me. In my case I was pushed into this bimbo character. Need to act, look and be always be perfect since I could remember. Making sure to eat properly so I don't gain to much weight, making sure to message my skin so my boob dont sag, make sure to shave everywhere on my body, make sure to straighten my curls because curly ain't sexy, making sure to never skip a leg day so the butt stay juicy, making sure to have a clear skin. And it does not stop there … making sure I moan seductively, make sure I know how suck good, making sure I am submissive enough. I did it all to please … the one I want, stay unimpressed while the other treats me like lesser women because all they can think of is having sex. Actually you guys are so cute together, the way you like to act like you don't see him applying  pressure. Always touching you any chance he gets, always looking at you across the room, always having your back when you need a ride back home even when the party's at his place. While you tease him, give him kisses across his face every so often, while giving him compliments with your beautiful voice, seducing him with your healthy femininity. Today, in the bathroom, too many drink in my system, hiding while writing this fucking email … I must admit that you have influence me. Because the man I love, loves you for you. Not a version of you made to please, made to seduce, made to only be relevant for the other sex. Maybe it is time for me to admit that all this is in vain … because being the standard did not make me pick, choose or even love. In all fucking honesty I am tired to prove that I am nice enough, fun enough, sexy enough, kind enough … Fuck… can I not just be enough ? (tears on the screen, somebody calls her name) 

Fuck is not like you are even going to read this anyways…

VIBES: New beginning, fresh start, new couple, love at first sight, red string theory, cant get enough of each other, a lot of tension, chemistry and perfect match. 

A lot of people are happy y’all find each other because you were both unfulfilled in love.

[xoxostargirlsblog]

5894 Words // Book: No Surprises • 5 Chapters

Inspiration: Me Before You, Me, The Fault in Our Stars and Lana del Rey songs

Summary: You have an illness and believe that everything is over, but what would happen if you fell in love?

Warnings: Mentions of illness, deep conversations, cute Rafe.

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Chapter One • New York, December

It was the arrival of another depressing Christmas for you. Everything was dry and dead for you. You were dying and it seemed like you were the only one who knew about it. Everyone was "hopeful" but you were the only realistic one. But anyway, it was December 1st. You were free to spend Christmas at home, that was the only good thing that had happened... well, that's what you thought.

You had (COPD) a very serious lung disease and were hospitalized for years, trying to survive each day, everyone felt sorry for you. You were a sweet and happy person before you were diagnosed with that disease ater he became a cold, pessimistic, serious person, who used acid humor.

"Y/N, You are authorized to spend Christmas at home," your doctor says with a gentle smile.

"That's great, I couldn't stand this place anymore" you say getting off the stretcher and sitting in a wheelchair, your legs were weak because of the illness

"Oh, come on. Don't be so pessimistic, you have friends here." Your doctor says guiding your wheelchair to the exit of the room.

"What friends?!" You say, amazed that you didn't even see a fly in that old and peaceful hospital.

"Of course it's me." Your doctor says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. You just roll your eyes in derision.

Your parents were there waiting for you at the hospital door. You take a deep breath because you don't know what's coming next.

"Daughter! I miss you so much!" Your mother runs to hug you even though you're in a wheelchair, and your father does the same thing too.

"Hello sir and madam...Y/n have shown improvement since last week. So I decided to reward you by letting you spend Christmas with you."

The doctor speaks in a serious manner and his parents react in the same way.

"See Sn! What great news" your father says smiling in dark circles

"But...just in case, I'll send a sub-nurse to keep an eye on you until the end of Christmas."

The doctor says and you immediately become revolted

"What?! Seriously? I don't need a babysitter," you say, completely angry.

"It's just to be on the safe side, if anything happens, he'll be there and help you. By the way, his name is Rafe Cameron."

The doctor says and you can't even look at him because you're so angry. You and your parents were already in the car and they wouldn't stop talking about how much fun it was going to be the most Christmas ever. You can't I was very excited before, but I was even more discouraged knowing that there will be people watching me (Rafe Cameron)

Arriving at your house, you are faced with snow on the ground, ice on several parked cars, and all the houses are quite decorated, especially yours. I'm sure your parents tried hard to try make you like the decoration is sincerely You loved it.

"Did you make cookies, Mom?" You ask, entering the house and giving a cute smile as you smell the fresh cookies.

"Yes daughter, it was made just for you." Your mother says, taking your scarf off your neck. Your parents were good parents, after all, they just wanted the best for you.

"Thank you," you say, sitting on the couch. You couldn't stay standing for long.

You were talking about life, making small talk with your parents. But suddenly the campaign starts playing.

"Who could it be?" His mother says, getting up from the table and going to open the door.

"Hello, my name is Rafe Cameron. I'm going to be the nurse at the hospital." Rafe appears in the doorway, giving his mother a slight smile.

"Oh sure! The doctor told me about you. Come on, let's come in!" His mother says, making room for Rafe to enter.

Rafe walks into the house and her eyes immediately meet his. He was gorgeous, muscular, tall and had a wonderful look.

"Hello Y/n, I'll be your nurse until the end of Christmas. I hope to help with anything you need," Rafe says with a gentle smile that made her heart flutter.

You didn't answer anything, you were mesmerized enough to be able to answer. But you nodded so as not to seem like a complete stranger.

"Come on Rafe, sit down, we're going to dinner now" His mother says with a gentle smile.

Well, you, Rafe and your parents sit down. The conversation is quiet between your parents and Rafe. He seemed like a knight, he was so polite, you were feeling small next to him. You were sitting at the table waiting for dinner and Rafe sat next to you giving you a simple smile you returned. Your mother makes a face since you weren't so nice to strangers.

"So Rafe nurse how long?" His father asking stirring dinner

"Well, I studied business administration because my father made me work for his company, but my dream has always been to help people."

Rafe explains that all you could smell was his cologne that was driving you crazy. All you could think about was his hands pulling up your dress...Oh God this was so wrong, but he was so handsome and hot... you couldn't refuse.

"So Sn? What do you think?" Your father asks taking you out of your inappropriate thoughts.

"Oh...and...sorry, what were you talking about?" You ask hypnotized after coming out of your tase.

"About horror movies, who is the best villain" Rafe clarifies with his deep and hoarse voice making you shiver

"Ah... yeah... well, I really like Freddy Gruguer" you reply with a quick smile.

"He's cool, but he's not as good as Jason," Rafe says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Seriously? A masked guy who has no story, Freddy is definitely the best" You say feeling offended for being a big Freddy fan

"Okay, I think you're not right in the head, who in their right mind prefers Jason over Freddy?" Rafe says clearly trying to irritate you in a joking way.

Your parents laugh at the silly fight you were having with Rafe, and Rafe himself laughed at it. Time passed and everyone went to bed, Rafe went with you and that was making you nervous.

"So? Are you going to sleep with me or what?" You ask clearly jokingly, making Rafe feel awkward on purpose.

"No! No, God, I'm just going to give you your medicine and see if you're okay." Rafe stutters, making you laugh at his nervousness.

"Hey, relax, I do these kinds of pranks. If you're going to stay with me until the end of Christmas, I think you'd better get used to it."

You say giving him a gentle smile and that relieves him, it seemed like that smile calmed Rafe, who himself found it strange.

"Well...let's see how your breathing and heart rate are" Rafe says preparing the doctor's things to see if you were okay.

He puts his hand on your back and another on your chest to check your heart rate. This gives you goosebumps and makes your heart beat faster than it should.

"I think...he's going a little too fast. Are you okay? You seem nervous." Rafe says in a hoarse voice.

"Yeah..I'm fine" you say trying to calm down and hoping he doesn't notice.

Rafe finished what he was doing and wrote everything down in a notebook, I think it was some kind of report. He makes you comfortable on your bed. Rafe looks at you for a moment and gives you a smile.

"What was that?" You ask through the smile

"What was what?" Rafe asks already knowing what it was

"Why are you smiling at me?" You ask without fear of speaking

"You're beautiful." Rafe says..

Next Chapter - November 24th

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@rafeyscurtainbangs @billwidoll @harryspet @littlelamy @rafesfawn @kjpoems @rafesangelita @rafey-baby @outerbankspov @outerbankswriting @rafeandonlyrafe @obx @drewstarkey @drewstarkeyobsessed @drewstarkley @drewstarkeylover21 @drewstarkeyownsme @rudypankow @rudypankwow @jjmaybannk @jjmaybnks @rafecameronssl4t @rafesfavslut

[bhaalsbabe]

Bloodbath

Pairing: Orin the Red x gn!Reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.4k

Summary/warnings: taking a bath with Orin; MDNI, dark themes (mentions of killing, flaying, cutting - we're talking about Orin ok), unhealthy relationship, mentions of Orin physically hurting Reader (her weird expression of love), non-sexual nudity

I swear this is supposed to be fluff

Loving Orin came to you as naturally as breathing. She was perfect in every way, her unhinged personality a breath of fresh air after your boring life in the city. She liked bringing you with her when she did her ritualistic murders and it always made your heart beat faster as you watched her work. Each cut of her knives precise, with purpose, eliciting screams from the victim and laughter from the changeling. She liked to toy with them, just like she liked to toy with you - and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Yet there were times when she would become softer, more mellow. You held those moments close to your heart as they were extremely rare. Tonight, you were lucky enough to experience another one of them.

After another killing spree, you both returned back to the Undercity, to the Temple of Bhaal that you both called home. Orin's pale skin was coloured red from blood, some more fresh, some already dried and peeling off. She was in high spirits, the way she enacted her worship of Bhaal giving her a rush she couldn't get enough of. You held a bag full of materials for a new outfit for your beloved - she showed you how to flay a person and keep them alive through the most of the harvest. You failed, of course, your hands nowhere near the skill level she had, the drunkard going into shock soon after you gave it a try. Nonetheless, you got the skin secured, ready to be prepared and turned into another one of Orin's skin-suits.

You walked through the familiar corridors, a few Bhaalists looking at Orin in awe while you trailed behind her like a loyal pet. Once you got to her chambers, a privilege she had as a Bhaalspawn, you put the bloody bag on the ground and went to the bathtub you had finally convinced her to add. You cast Create Water, a handy conjuration spell you got through a ring you found on one of Orin's victims. Speaking of her, you moved to help her remove her 'clothes'. You knew the mechanics behind it well, being the one who helped her craft it and all, so she was bare before you soon.

"Why won't you bathe with me in blood instead? It would suit you~" She sing-songed, pouting slightly as you took her hand gently, leading her to the bathtub.

"Because I'd probably get a disease from it or something. Maybe if you wouldn't dig your blades into my skin so often, it wouldn't be so risky."

"Now now, little rat, you and I both know that you like it. You like it, you do!" She giggled, dipping herself in the water that immediately started turning crimson.

"Only because it's you doing it," you blushed, taking her long braid and holding it out if the water as she sinked into the tub. You removed the decorations adorning it, putting it on a nearby table, and then you started unbraiding the hairstyle, humming an ancient melody of a song about star-crossed lovers.

Her hair was beautiful, just like the rest of her. Even when it was stained with blood, it was mesmerizing. Sometimes, she'd use the decorated braid as a flail, turning these delicate strands into a brutal weapon. The crusting blood near the ends served as a proof of her creative use of this part of her.

As you finally unbraided the hair, you lifted it all and put it into the tub with Orin. She opened her white eyes and gave you a strange look.

"Join me, sweet thing," she offered you, her eyes piercing through you like her knives. You nodded, quickly disrobing and climbing into the bathtub as she moved to make space for you, her soaked hair moving with her like a sea creature. You smiled at her, taking a prepared soap and starting to scrub her front with it. She kept looking at you like the predator she was, and you had to look down at her naked body to feel less nervous, that's how unsettling her gaze was.

"I'm sure our Lord appreciates what you do for him..." You tried to fill the silence as your soapy hands explored the top of her body, occasionally stopping to scrub off some dried blood and grime. She didn't say anything, only leaning more towards you as your palms brushed over her nipples. "I definitely appreciate you," you continued, finding courage and lifting your gaze to connect your eyes. Her lips twitched, her unusually long arms pulling you into a sweet embrace. You let her do it, choosing to wash her back instead as she continued holding you, her fingers lightly tracing the many scars adorning your body, most of them created by her. You both soaked not only in the water, but in each other's presence as well. Even as you finished cleaning the changeling's pale swirling skin, you continued rubbing her back, and you felt her rest her weight on you fully.

"I love you, Orin..." You whispered, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. She tightened her embrace in response, clutching you almost desperately. You heard her sharp intake of breath, her nails digging into the skin of your back, and then she gave your shoulder several shockingly soft kisses in return. You could feel her inner turmoil during these moments, but as you continued holding her, providing her with comfort and safety, even her troubled mind settled eventually.

When you pulled away at last, Orin refused to look at your face, your roles almost reversing. During your time spent with her, you found out she got shy when you gave her genuine affection and expected nothing back in return. The same woman who could expertly torture and kill, who played with intestines as if it was clay and used blood to paint the city red - she allowed you to see her vulnerable side, the part that she wouldn't - couldn't - show to anyone before. And your heart beat faster and harder from the knowledge of this.

"Turn around, I'll wash your hair now," you prompted her, your voice soft and quiet, minding the intimate atmosphere. At this moment, it was just the two of you. Orin complied, turning her back to you and letting you rub her scalp with your soapy hands. You massaged the tender skin, smiling when you heard her hum and relax more. After a few minutes of the massage, you finally moved to clean her hair, making sure it was pristine again. Her hair was so long it was pretty much filling the entire tub. You worked on it slowly, and Orin started to grow impatient, turning back to you to glare at you.

"What?" You asked, chuckling.

"Stop being so meticulous, I want your skin touching mine again." As if to prove the point, she turned around entirely, pulling you against her, water splashing around from the forceful movement as you slipped and crashed against her wet skin. She laughed as you struggled to sit properly again. Her hands helped to steady you, her strength surprising when you considered her build - though was it really that surprising, when she arranged corpses on daily basis. "Better," she murmured contentedly.

You suppressed a surprised gasp when Orin started mirroring your previous actions, taking the soap and scrubbing your skin with it. You wouldn't dare to question her actions, however, so you just accepted her uncharacteristic kindness. She wasn't as gentle as you, her nails occasionally dragging against your skin, even opening an unhealed wound once or twice. When you grunted in discomfort, she laughed at you again before kissing the back of your neck apologetically. She cleaned you fast, moving to wash your hair in half a time it took you to get there. You didn't mind though, as any time spent in her presence felt like a boon.

"I will carve my name into your skin tonight, dearest one~" she whispered huskily into your eat as she massaged your scalp. "And because I like you, I'll even let you choose a place where my blades will dance." She giggled, and your heart skipped a beat in excitement. You turned your head to her, seeing her pleased smile. You were completely smitten, nodding in acknowledgement before helping her wash the suds off your hair. Then, the two of you finally left the quickly cooling water, drying your bodies with the prepared towels. You kept glancing at her, how her skin shimmered in the dim lightning, how her lips stayed slightly upturned - she knew you were watching her. And she knew you'd be looking at her with same reverence even when she's inevitably forced to kill you in Bhaal's name.

[littlest-w01f]

Home Celebration

Sylus x Reader

SYLUS MASTERLIST

LADS MASTERLIST

Summary: It is your love's birthday, you decide to do something special and intimate for the two of you

Cw: Cute fluffy stuff, very self indulgent, nudity

a/n: IT'S HUBBY'S BDAY YAAAHAHHHHDJJSIENDKENDKSNDKSM TIME TO PARTYYYYYY WOOO HOOO also the card is what I would've sent if it didn't have a 60 character limit. Fic on Ao3

As the big day was here, you couldn't contain your excitement. You had been secretly planning Sylus' birthday for weeks now, determined to make it a memorable one. Evening light spread through the curtains as you bustled around the kitchen in the N109 zone, carefully arranging the colorful cupcakes you had spent hours decorating with intricate swirls of frosting and edible glitter. A delicate cake stood proudly on the counter, adorned with a majestic dragon and a mischievous kitten playing together, a whimsical design that perfectly captured both you and Sylus.

It was the day before his birthday, so he was asleep, giving you the full space to set everything up for when he woke around night.

You folded a handmade card you had written and kept it gingerly in a basket, placing the cupcakes on a spiral stand. The cake in the center.

You heard Mephisto caw at you, and you turned to smiled, "Does it look good, Mephie?" You asked the mechanical crow.

Mephisto let out a series of caws, sounding quite like a real crow, in response to your question. His shiny black body glinted in the soft evening light as he flitted around the festive arrangement, his beady red optics scanning every detail with interest. After completing his inspection, Mephisto landed gracefully on the edge of the spiral cupcake stand, tilting his head to regard the colorful treats.

"I'll take that as a yes." You said, gently stroking the smooth metal feathers along the crow's back.

"Ah, just me and the bird my boyfriend uses to stalk me preparing for his birthday." You smiled, moving around, setting the used utensils in the sink to wash.

Your hands moved deftly as you tidied up the kitchen, the clink of dishes in the sink providing a soothing background melody. Despite the late hour, a warm glow emanated from within you, a sense of contentment and anticipation for the special day ahead. As you scrubbed away at a stubborn stain, your mind wandered to happy memories with Sylus, lazy Sundays curled up reading together, lively nights filled with laughter and music, listening to his vinyl, quiet moments of tender affection.

A sudden realization made you pause, a small smile playing on your lips. It struck you then, how much this whole elaborate celebration felt like a declaration of sorts, a statement of the depth of your feelings for him. You thought about all the little gestures, the personal touches, the way you'd poured your heart into making this day unforgettable.

As you cleaned, you heard the shower turn on from your shared room above, you smiled at Mephisto, "He's up."

"Oh... This is it." With a mix of nervousness and exhilaration, you placed the glass dome over the elaborately decorated cupcakes and cake, sealing in the sweet aromas and vibrant colours. Stepping back, you took a moment to admire your handiwork, a swell of pride and love filling your chest. This was more than just a birthday celebration, it represented the culmination of your emotions, a tangible expression of your feelings for Sylus.

As the sound of the shower continued from upstairs, you couldn't help but imagine him emerging, fresh and clean, ready to be surprised by your thoughtful preparations. The anticipation built, your pulse quickening slightly as you mentally rehearsed the reveal. You glanced at Mephisto, who cocked his mechanical head, as if sensing your eagerness.

With a deep breath, you began ascending the stairs, each step echoing softly in the still, now night, air.

You looked at your phone, a few hours till midnight, till his birthday, he'd slept longer tonight. You smiled, looking around his room, seeing the silhouette of his form in the steamed shower.

As you entered Sylus' bedroom, the steam from the shower created a hazy veil, obscuring most of his form. However, the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders against the foggy glass told you he was still under the soothing spray. You tiptoed closer, drawn to the sight of him, even partially hidden. His tall, lean frame seemed to exude a quiet strength, a robust beauty that always left you breathless.

This moment, watching him in such intimate repose, felt almost sacred. You decided to savour it, to commit the image to memory, a treasured snapshot of the man you loved.

As silent as you could, you entered the bathroom, leaving your electronics behind as you entered the bathroom, eyes fixed on his form as he ran his hand through his wet hair under the spray, his back flexing, you couldn't tear your eyes away as they went down, to the curve of his ass, to his thick thighs.

Your gaze traced the lines of his powerful physique, drinking in the sight of his toned muscles rippling beneath his skin as the water cascaded over him. The way his broad shoulders sloped into a narrow waist, the tantalizing curve of his rear, the solid mass of his thighs, every contour seemed etched specifically to drive you wild with desire.

Despite your best efforts to remain discreet, you found yourself subtly shifting, angling your body to better appreciate the view without being too obvious. The heat from the shower enveloped you, and for a fleeting instant, you considered joining him, letting the warm water melt away the chill of uncertainty that had settled in your core. But you resisted the temptation, knowing this moment was meant to be a surprise.

"Are you done admiring and ready to join me, kitten?" Sylus purred, turning his head to look at you, a smirk on his face.

Before you could answer you felt his evol grab you by the waist, pulling you in the stream, drenching your clothes.

A startled yelp escaped your lips as Sylus' strong arms wrapped around you, effortlessly pulling you under the torrential spray. Water soaked through your clothing, warming you to the bone, yet you couldn't help but giggle at the sudden, playful intrusion into your daydreaming.

Sylus' smug grin only widened as he held you close, his large hands splayed across your lower back. "Caught you staring, did I?" He teased, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine despite the warmth of the shower.

As the warm droplets pounded against your skin, you felt your cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. "M-maybe a little," you admitted, your voice barely audible over the roar of the water. "But I couldn't help myself. You're just so... distracting."

When he noticed the shower landed directly on your face, he turned you both together so that his shoulder protected you from the harsh spray. "Now that you're here... Let's make the most of it," Sylus finished, his words dripping with innuendo as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. The steamy atmosphere, the sensation of his hard body pressed against yours, the lingering taste of his mouth on yours, it all conspired to ignite a fire within you, a hunger that only he could satisfy.

As his tongue delved past your lips, exploring the depths of your mouth, you felt your knees weaken, your resolve crumbling under the onslaught of his passion. Your hands slid up his slick torso, fingers tangling in the damp strands of his hair as you lost yourself in the embrace, the world narrowing down to the two of you, entwined in the steamy cocoon of the shower.

"Sy..." You sighed, leaning into the kiss, hand lacing in his damp hair, "Ha-happy Birthday, baby..."

"Mmm, thanks kitten," Sylus murmured against your lips, his voice roughened by desire. "Though I think we can make this a birthday celebration neither of us will ever forget."

His hands roamed your curves, fingertips grazing the hem of your shirt before slipping underneath to caress the warm, damp skin beneath. "I've got a present for you too," he added, a wicked gleam entering his eyes. "And it's not something you can wrap up and put under the tree."

"I'm supposed to get you gifts... Not the other way." You smiled, reaching for his shampoo, lathering some in your hands. "Come here..."

Instead of coming closer, Sylus sank to his knees before you, the move putting him at eye level with your waistline. His intense gaze met yours as he waited for you to begin washing his hair, a subtle smile playing on his lips. The position allowed him to gaze up at you adoringly, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection.

As you worked the shampoo into his white locks, your fingers massaging his scalp, Sylus let out a contented sigh. "This feels amazing, kitten," he breathed, nuzzling into your touch. "Maybe you should start charging for these massages."

The intimate act sent a thrill through you, and you couldn't resist leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of his head, inhaling the scent of his shampoo mingled with the dampness of the shower. "Consider it a birthday gift,"

Your heart ached with love for the man kneeling in front of you, you smiled as you continued to pamper him.

As you rinsed the shampoo from Sylus' hair, your fingers lingered on his scalp, savoring the sensation of his skin beneath your touch. The tender gesture spoke volumes about the depth of your affection for him. In that moment, surrounded by the misty veil of the shower, it felt as though nothing else existed except the two of you, lost in the intimacy of the act.

Sylus gazed up at you, his eyes shining with gratitude and adoration. "Thank you, kitten," he whispered, his voice filled with love. "You always know just how to make me feel special."

Emotion welled up inside you, threatening to spill over. You bent down, pressing your forehead against his, the steam from the shower making a soft background.

With his gentle strength, Sylus scooped you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he stepped out of the steamy bathroom. The cool air hit your skin, causing goosebumps to prickle across your exposed skin. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, holding on tight.

Once in his room, he set you down on the plush couch, quickly retrieving a large, fluffy towel from the linen closet. Sylus began drying you off, his skilled hands rubbing the terrycloth over your skin in soothing circles. You closed your eyes, revelling in the warmth of the towel and the gentle care of his touch.

You shed your wet clothes as you watched him dry himself. "Wear something good..." You smiled up at him.

Sylus raised a brow at you, "Something planned, huh, kitten?" Sylus' eyes sparkled with intrigue as he listened to your suggestion, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Oh, I think I have just the thing," he purred, disappearing into his closet.

Minutes later, he emerged wearing a fitted black dress shirt, the fabric clinging to his muscular torso. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his forearms. Dark jeans hugged his hips, topped with a crimson jacket over his shoulders and polished leather boots completed the ensemble. As he strode towards you, you couldn't help but drink in the sight of him, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest.

The vibrant crimson hue of the dress you wore accentuated your complexion, drawing attention to your features and the sparkle in your eyes. The knee-length hem flared out around your figure, creating a flattering silhouette that highlighted your curves. Delicate lace trim adorned the neckline, adding a touch of femininity to the otherwise sleek design.

As you stood there, radiating a captivating blend of innocence and allure, Sylus approached you, his gaze roaming appreciatively over your form. "Kitten, you look absolutely stunning," he breathed, his voice low and husky with admiration. "That colour suits you perfectly."

He reached out, tracing a finger along the curve of your hip, his touch igniting a spark of desire within you. "Now what have you planned?"

You smiled, pulling him with you downstairs, to the decorated kitchen, "Happy birthday!" You presented with a "ta-da" hand gesture.

Sylus' eyes widened in delight as he took in the festive scene before him. The kitchen was transformed into a veritable wonderland, every surface adorned with vibrant red balloons, twinkling fairy lights, and colorful streamers. The air was heavy with the sweet aroma of freshly baked goods, and the centerpiece - a magnificent cake topped with a fondant dragon and kitten duo - caught his attention immediately.

"AH! Sweetie, this is incredible!" Sylus exclaimed, spinning around to face you, his expression a beautiful mix of surprise and joy. "You really outdid yourself!"

He pulled you into a fierce hug, burying his face in your hair as he inhaled deeply, savoring the moment. "I love you. I love you. I love you." He repeated, his voice muffled against your skin. "This means the world to me."

"Wait... There's more!" You smiled as you reached into the basket pulling out a popper. You twisted it, making sparkles pop out.

As the colourful sparks rained down, Sylus laughed with unbridled delight, clearly enjoying the whimsical surprise.

When the last sparkler fizzled out, leaving a trail of glitter on the countertop, Sylus turned back to you, his gaze soft with affection. "Oh, kitten, you're going to spoil me rotten," he teased, reaching out to playfully tug at a strand of your hair.

You pulled and held up the card you'd made. You opened it, clearing your throat, you looked over the words you had written for him, a flush rising on your cheeks, "Umm... I wrote you something... You read it..."

Sylus' eyes softened with tenderness as he took the card from your trembling hands, his fingers brushing against yours in a reassuring touch. He unfolded the paper, his gaze scanning the handwritten words with a reverence that made your heart swell. He began to read, "Happy Birthday, Sy, I can't believe you just told me when it was while even Luke and Kieran don't even know it. I send all of them away so your birthday date doesn't get spoiled."

He looked up from the paper, and then said his own thing, "Well, of course, I'd tell you anything. Nothing of mine should be a secret to you, sweetie."

Sylus continued, his voice low and heartfelt, "From the moment I met you, I knew you were someone special. Your kindness, your generosity, your unwavering support - it's been an inspiration to me every single day. You make me want to be a better person, I'm so grateful to have you by my side, kitten."

He looked down at your card again, his eyes shimmering with emotion. "I love you more than words can express, Sy. You're my home, my safe haven, my partner in every sense of the word. You're my dragon who's kept my heart captive and I never want you to let me go."

"The thought of you away from me makes my heart hurt, I want nothing more than to be with you forever, lost in your arms. You bring me comfort I never thought possible, you make me forget all the bad in my life. You are one of the few good things in it, when I'm with you, I know I have a soul I can count on. I enjoy our time together more than anything. I love being yours."

He stepped closer to you, looking deep into your eyes, "Oh, sweetie, you're the one who owns my heart. And this Dragon will never let his Dragon Li go. No matter what. You gave me your heart and I'm keeping it."

Your breathing hitched at his words. Sylus' declaration hung in the air between you, heavy with promise and devotion. His intense gaze held yours captive, the depth of his feelings evident in the burning intensity of his stare. You felt like you were drowning in those oceanic eyes, suffocating under the weight of his love.

Slowly, deliberately, Sylus reached out, his calloused fingers brushing against your cheek in a feather-light caress. The gentle touch sent shivers racing down your spine, your breath catching in your throat as you leaned into his palm.

"I need you, kitten," he whispered, his voice a low rumble. He knelt on one knee in front of you, pulling a velvet box from his jacket.

You gasped, seeing the box, "Sy..." Your eyes stay on that box, heart hammering so quick you could hear it in your ears.

When he opened it, there was a candy ring pop inside. And with that, the moment between you changed.

Sylus chuckled at your reaction, a mischievous glint in his eye as he revealed the unexpected contents of the velvet box. The candy ring pop sparkled in the light, its bright colors a playful contrast to the formal setting.

"Well, I figured since you already have my heart, I might as well give you something sweet to go with it," He quipped, his grin infectious. "Besides, I thought this would be a fun twist."

He popped the ring into your hand, his fingers brushing against yours once more. The sugary treat was surprisingly heavy, the weight of it a physical representation of the promises and commitments it symbolized.

"Oh my god..." You gasped looking at the ring pop, set on your ring finger "I THOUGHT YOU WERE PROPOSING!"

Sylus chuckled from where he was on his knee, "Oh I plan to." He stood up, close, your body pressed against his, "But when I do, It'll be my moment. And mine alone."

Sylus' words sent a thrill through you, his proximity and the promise of a future proposal igniting a fire within your soul. You leaned in, your lips hovering mere inches from his as you searched his eyes for any hint of deception or hesitation. Finding none, you melted into him, your mouth claiming his in a passionate kiss.

As your tongues danced, Sylus' strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You could feel the rapid beating of his heart, mirroring the frantic pace of your own. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the intoxicating embrace of love.

When you pulled away, you brought up the ring pop to suck on, pointing to the cupcakes, "Try it!" You said through the candy.

Sylus grinned, amused by your playful suggestion. He plucked the ring pop from your lips, bringing it to his mouth and sucking on the sweet candy. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he savored the flavor, a satisfied hum escaping him.

"Mmm, not bad," he murmured, handing the ring pop back to you. "Although, I think I prefer the taste of you." His words were laced with suggestive undertones, a clear invitation for further exploration.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Sylus reached for a cupcake, popping it into his mouth and closing his eyes in blissful enjoyment. Crumbs dusted his lips, which you promptly licked clean with a teasing flick of your tongue.

With a smile you placed a candle in the cake, "How old are you turning again? 29? 300? 600?" You asked teasingly.

Sylus chuckled at your jest, shaking his head in amusement. "Just 29, kitten. Though I suppose I'd be quite ancient." he joked, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he brushed a stray curl behind your ear. "But with you by my side, I feel younger than ever. You keep me young, kitten. Keep me alive."

"Sap." You playfully hit his bicep. Lighting up the candle. "Here. Make a wish."

Sylus captured your hand, his thumb gently stroking the sensitive skin of your inner wrist as he peered at the flickering candle flame. For a moment, he simply breathed in the scent of vanilla and chocolate wafting from the cake, savoring the intimate atmosphere.

Then, with a soft smile, he closed his eyes and made his silent wish, his free hand finding yours and intertwining their fingers. The warmth of his grasp seeped into your skin, a tangible reminder of the unbreakable bond you shared.

When he opened his eyes again, they shone with a quiet contentment, his gaze locked onto yours. "Whatever comes next, kitten, I'm exactly where I want to be. Right here, with you."

He cut a piece of the cake, his evol lifted the piece, keeping it over your lips as he brought down his head do kiss the dessert between you both.

The moist, velvety texture of the cake melded with the sweetness of Sylus' lips as he fed you the decadent treat. His warm breath ghosted over your skin, sending delightful shivers down your spine. The intimate act felt almost sensual, a private language spoken only between the two of you.

As you savored the flavors, Sylus' eyes never left yours, his gaze burning with a smoldering intensity that hinted at the desires simmering just below the surface. The air between you crackled with electricity, each heartbeat pulsing with the promise of untold pleasures waiting to be explored.

In that moment, the rest of the world fell away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the throes of forbidden passion and the knowledge that nothing could ever come between you again.

[seafoamreadings]

week of june 2nd, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: the week starts with the moon from your sign into taurus, foretelling of what is to come later in the week. by the weekend mars also makes this same shift, but mars moves from his domicile in your sign. while he's less comfortable in taurus, he revs up your resources in a positive way and provides a lot of stamina and strength where it is needed.

taurus: mercury is leaving your sign this week but the moon visits for her monthly luxurious exaltation and at the end of the week, mars stops by as well. don't let anyone try to speed you along; your steadiness is your strength and mars just boosts it. where others may feel stumped and slowed down you know your pace is just right.

gemini: your ruling planet comes home to your sign this week. that will really feel like a breath of fresh air. and it helps to make the most of that if you get outside in the breeze, stay in verbal exchanges that are fun and enlightening to you, and transmit any information you've been needing to relay.

cancerians: 12th house vibe intensifies. gemini season is different for you than it is for the other signs. much more internal, quite, personal. less social. a new moon in gemini in particular can reflect secrets, quiet feelings, or a clandestine sort of affair - ongoing or on the horizon.

leo: your public life is in for a makeover, like it or not, so you may as well run with it and work with it. resistance will just jam things up. mars in taurus is a good time to take decisive actions regarding your public image, status, and legacy, and actively seek career advances like promotions or raises. go into battle and take a strategic position; don't just let it happen to you because it will probably not go in a way you desire then.

virgo: gemini season can be intense for you since gemini squares your sign but you also have a lot of affinities, sort of like competitive cousins or frenemies. this week, though, in spite of (or in addition to?) the large number of gemini passages, you have a great deal of highly supportive astrology, including mars into taurus making you if not exactly fast, certainly smart, efficient, and strong.

libra: this week manages to be almost paradoxically intensely yet subtly venusian. it suits you, it's not flashy or gaudy, but it is lovely and romantic.

scorpio: several factors contribute to making this week a likely steamy one for you. relationships progress, affairs develop, flirtations arise. be safe and have fun. avoid coercion, from any direction.

sagittarius: relationships and partnerships positively sizzle. probably this consists mainly of noncommittal but very pleasant dalliances. however, if a commitment strikes your fancy, it is a great time for taking that plunge. at least on a trial basis. maybe it'll stick!

capricorn: probably you'll appreciate the firm groundedness that the ingress of mars into taurus is bringing later this week. it is solid, strong, and authoritative. yet self care remains of critical importance. for capricorns ruled more by wild pan than by stuffy saturn, or even some of the saturnine among you, this week is also bringing in some romance novel style fun. feel free to abstain if that's not your thing.

aquarius: a war with a roommate? an argument within the family of origin? seek solace in creative pursuits ans sweet romantic flings. turn your home - or at least some corner of it - into a fortress, a sanctum, a combination of the two.

pisces: if you have a partner to move in with, it is a good time for that. if you want to mend a connection with a family member - also auspicious! if you just want to buy a nice piece of home decor, it is really blessed this week.

[604to647]

Safest with You (Ch. 9 - The Dam Breaks)

6K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: Din finally comes upstairs and <see above gif>.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please; for serious, this is the first chapter in the "main" series that is explicit.) Porn with feelings, but it’s still 93.2% porn: unprotected PiV sex (discussed), multiple orgasms, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, they sort of... "make love"? Sorry for the ick but let's call a spade a spade, kissing, dirty talk, a wee bit of daddy kink, dipping their toes into a light degradation kink, tons of petnames as usual (baby, pretty bird, sweet girl, sweetheart, etc.)

A/N: I'm sorry for this gif. I'm sorry for all of it.

Two other thoughts: First, I said somewhere else that I think writing smut takes practice, and I still consider myself to be in the practice stage - I hope it's enjoyable, but I feel like I have room for improvement. Second, totally understand if you've been reading this series for the fluff and maybe this isn't your bag (thus far, the smut has been contained to the separate one-shots and drabbles); that's okay, feel free to skip this one! I concede this is a lot of boinking, but that’s sort of what the story, and specifically this chapter, has been building to. In future chapters, there will probably be more of a mix (plot, fluff, angst, smut) 👍🏻

Series Masterlist

It’s the hottest elevator ride of your life.  The second the doors start to close, shielding you from your lobby guard’s view, you and Din move towards each other.  Din reaches you first and crashes his mouth to yours with a force that pushes you against the moving elevator’s walls, knocking the air out of your lungs.  Barely allowing you the moment you need to breathe properly, Din continues his invasion of your mouth, tongue massaging yours in hard, long strokes; his hands moving with similar urgency, moving up and down your sides.  When his thumbs flick over your nipples, you let out a catastrophic groan and your legs give out a little; lucky for you, Din has no problem holding you up.  Mouth never leaving yours, Din crosses your wrists over your head, holding them with one hand while sliding his free hand down to your ass.  Already arching into him from this new position, you buck into Din’s thigh when you feel him grab a fistful of one ass cheek and squeeze.

Chuckling, Din gives you a little lick on the neck beneath your ear, “Eager, aren’t we?  Don’t worry, pretty bird, I’ll give you what you need.”

Before you can respond, the elevator doors open with a ding, and you’ve never been more relieved to see the empty hallway of your floor and not the scandalized face of some poor unsuspecting neighbour.  Pausing only to pick up the dog leash that you dropped when Din had you pinned, you practically drag him by the hand to your door.

Once inside, you busy yourself with Al’s nighttime ritual (fresh bowl of water, dental chew), leaving Din free to take in your apartment.  The front foyer opens immediately to an open concept space so he can see clear across a living room area that’s adorn with perfectly complimentary furniture, all the way to the floor to ceiling windows lining a balcony that runs across the length of the unit.  To the right is a spacious kitchen, with a generous island littered with cooking tools and appliances.  Dog accessories make an appearance in every free nook and cranny, leaving no doubt who rules the roost here.  Just from this cursory look, Din can tell that you personally picked every piece of furniture, décor and small touch in your apartment; everything has a clean, calm aesthetic, and yet, is brimming with a welcoming energy.  From the overflowing bookshelf, to the cozy blanket thrown over the arm chair, to the vases of fresh flowers, it’s all so you.  It doesn’t surprise him that you have a keen eye for decoration and aesthetics; to him, everything you touch is made better.  You watch Din’s eyes sweep over your home; you’re immensely proud of this space and the home you’ve made for yourself and Al, and it brings you joy to share your happy place, your safe space with those you care about.  Looking at this hulk of a man standing in your front entrance, you feel a warmth in your heart at how much he already looks like he belongs here; and you’re suddenly very aware of how much space there is between the two of you.  Din catches your eye and taking in your pensive look, gives you a little smirk with a tilt of his head, “Don’t go shy on me now, sweetheart.”

Crossing the room with embarrassing speed, you nearly leap into his waiting arms; Din catches you with ease and cups his hands under your ass, lifting you so you can cross your legs behind his back and resume kissing him eagerly.  God he is so big, and so… strong, you internally swoon as he easily walks the both of you over to the couch.  He sits himself down gently, and you unwrap your legs so you’re now straddling Din’s lap, staying on your knees so that you have a height advantage for once.  Threading your fingers through his hair, you can feel the tension that has been building up since your first coffeeshop meeting ready to snap; peppering Din’s jaw with light kisses, you hum in his ear, “Want you to ruin me, Din.”

With a growl, Din helps you pull your sweatshirt over your head, “Let’s get you out of these clothes, pretty bird.”  Leaning back to admire you in your lace bra, sitting so pretty on top of him, he murmurs, “Even better than my dreams.”

“You dream about me, Djarin?”

Din starts to kiss down the column of your neck, making his way to your chest, “Every night, pretty bird.”

You sigh as he reaches the top of your breasts, his hands cupping them from underneath to push the supple flesh up into his mouth.  As Din devours everywhere you’re exposed with an open mouth, his hands greedily grope your tits, and you throw you head back in pleasure unable to hold back your moans, “Oh, oh, Din.  Din.  That feels so good. Right there, baby.”

Hands moving to roll your nipples between his fingers over the lace fabric, Din murmurs between mouthfuls, “Right here, sweetheart?  You like it when I touch you through this pretty lace?  Don’t think I didn’t recognize this bra, baby girl.  This little triangle right here,” he bites down on the left cup of your bra where the lace fabric meets the strap and tugs with his teeth so that your strap slides down your shoulder and the lace cup falls away from your chest, “has been torturing me for the last month.”  Just like the night he saw his first peek of this lingerie set, Din is finding its teasing effect on him to be irresistible as he moves his mouth to cover what the fallen lace reveals.

With Din’s face fully buried in your chest, you run your fingers through his hair and hold him close while arching your self into him, needing to get impossibly close to this man; his mouth is setting you on fire and his hands are roaming over your body, caressing and electrifying you with every touch.  And yet, you need more.  More of his tongue, his hands, his words, more, more, more.

Din momentarily pulls you out of your daze, “You wear this just for me, pretty bird?”

You look down at Din and see he already looks as desperate as you feel.  You nod and add hesitantly, “Just for you… daddy,” deciding in the moment to try out the petname.  It’s not something you’ve used a lot with past partners, but for some reason, maybe it’s his size, his protective nature, or just the way you want to give yourself over to Din to let him handle you, the moniker fits; even when you would touch yourself to the thought of him, you would always come to the thought of daddy.

Din grins as he takes your now wet nipple back into his mouth, “Is that what you did, baby?  Wrap yourself up like a present for daddy?”

“Mmmhhh god yes,” you whimper; hearing him call himself daddy and pick up on the way you like dirty talk is causing a fresh wave of arousal to seep out of you, “Do you want to unwrap me, Din?”

Before Din even starts to nod, you climb off of his lap and stand right between his spread legs, shimmying down your pants to reveal the matching black panties. 

Din thinks he might pass out.  He has no idea what he’s done to deserve you serving yourself up to him like a perfectly wrapped gift; the coy and almost shy look you’re giving him right now as he takes in your pretty form is tapping into something wild and feral inside of him.  Reaching for you, he hooks two fingers into the band of your underwear as soon as you’re close enough and yanks you into him.  You laugh as you fall onto Din, his strong arms catching and pulling you on top of him so his lips can return to your chest again.  Your laughter quickly turns into needy whimpers as Din mouths and paws at you and you hear his filthy words vibrating against your skin, “Gonna take you apart, pretty girl.  Gonna have you screaming my name when you come on my mouth, my fingers, my cock.  You’re not going to remember your own name, baby – you’ll only know mine.”

You whine as Din growls again, “Mine,” and presses you down to grind on his lap.  You can feel his hardness straining against his pants as you chase after the delicious friction it provides, face warm with embarrassment at the mess your soaked panties must be making of his pants.

“Din, please…”

“What do you need, sweetheart?”

“…more.  I need more, daddy,” you plead.

Din leaves a hand gripping your hip to help you build a grinding rhythm while his other hand moves between your bodies and trails down to your underwear.  Rubbing his fingers over the fabric, he finds you drenched, “So fucking wet, pretty bird.  You soak through these pretty panties just for me?”

By now, you’re panting into Din’s neck, so worked up you think you might scream if he doesn’t touch you soon, “Yes, oh yes, Din… all for you.  Pussy is dripping for you.  Need you to touch me, please, please.”

“So beautiful and sexy, and now polite, too.  Such good manners, saying please so pretty like that.  Don’t worry, baby doll, daddy will give you what you need,” pushing aside the lace to reveal your slick covered cunt, Din slides his fingers through your slit with purposeful strokes; repeatedly dipping his fingers in to explore your hole before spreading your wetness all over, leaving you flushed and squirming in his lap – somehow getting what you wanted has left you even needier than ever.

Gathering what small amount of self agency you have left, you force yourself to shift away from Din’s hand and straighten up to start unbuttoning Din’s shirt; with each undone button, you spread open the fabric and kiss the newly exposed part of his chest, taking in Din’s low moans as you explore his body with your hands and mouth.  When the expanse of his hard chest is before you, you step off of his lap and lean over Din to admire his impressive physique.  He’s unfathomably large, somehow even more so underneath his clothes, a solid wall of muscles no doubt well developed during his days as a boxer; running your hands over his build and trailing light kisses down his chest, you think that perhaps he’s a little softer now (especially around his tummy area), and you much prefer it that way.  In your explorations of Din’s body, you discover several scars of varying size and shapes, no doubt from long by-gone fights.  While you don’t linger, you run your tongue over the smooth, puckered skin, kissing each scar before moving on, as if to make better the injury that has long healed; Din looks down to watch you leave your loving touch on all the parts of his body where violence has marked him and feels his chest tighten at your tenderness.  In this moment he thinks that maybe, maybe, you’re the grace that’s meant to right all his wrong doings; his very own goddamn angel.

By the time you reach the last shirt button, your mouth is watering and you’ve successfully worked yourself up to stratospheric levels, actually feeling your slick dripping down to your inner thighs.  Along with the button, you also undo Din’s belt and pants then slowly sink down to your knees in front of his spread legs, before looking up at him with want.

Holy shit. Din thinks he could come just from the sight of you kneeling before him, lips swollen, lace bra half off with pretty tits on display for him, pupils blown wide with a mix of lust and playfulness.  He lifts himself slightly so you can pull down his boxers and pants, and when his hard cock springs out with a bounce, he sees your eyes widen and you bite your bottom lip while sharply inhaling.  With amusement, he lets you busy yourself with taking off his pants fully and watches as your brow furrows with a tinge of worry.  He wants to soothe away your concern and tell you how bad he wants you in this moment, but the ability to form words seems to have escaped him.

When you come face to face with his impressive length again, you lock eyes with Din before breathing his name, breath fanning his dick and drawing a low groan from his throat; encouraged, you cup his balls with one hand, gently grasp his base with your other, and ready by pointing his tip towards your mouth.

Gingerly kissing the swollen head and kitten licking away the bead of precum seeping out of his slit, you coo, “Daddy it’s too big,” giving him a doe-eyed look of apprehension.  As good as you look and feel, floating your soft breath over his leaking cock, Din’s impatience and hunger override all his other sense and he has to have you now.  Leaning down to kiss you, open mouthed and hungry, he directs you off your knees with his strong arms, murmuring, “Don’t worry, pretty bird.  You can take it; I have to taste you now to make it fit, okay?”  You start to whine in protest, but as Din maneuvers you so that you’ve switched positions, you forget about the injustice of having being denied taking his cock in your mouth when you see Din’s eyes darken at the sticky mess between your legs.  Kissing your inner thighs as he peels off your lace panties, Din chuckles, “Did the idea of sucking daddy’s cock get you all worked up, sweetheart? You’ll have plenty of chances to take me in that sweet mouth of yours.  Not right now though, I need to get you ready for me.  Need to fuck you.” You at moan at his words, then gasp his name when he dives into you without warning like a man starved.

The obscene noises that Din makes as he licks your pussy and slurps your wetness fill the room and accompany the melody of your cries above him.  Grabbing his hair for purchase, your legs shake from pleasure so much that Din hooks an arm under your thigh to open you up even more and uses that hand to press you down so you can’t move.  “Taste so good, so sweet,” Din mutters and the vibrations of his baritone voice course all the way to your chest and you let out a wail, “Daddy, daddy, daddy.. oh fuc-!” Releasing one of your hands from Din’s curls to cover your mouth, Din reaches up with breathtaking speed and pulls your hand down.  With his mouth still pressed against your folds and nose nudging your clit, he purrs, “Want to hear you, baby.  Wanna hear what I do to you.”  Again, his words reverberate through you and electrify every pleasure point in your body so that you have no choice but to mindlessly grope your breasts and arch you back; if he wants to hear you, he’ll hear you:

“Fuck, daddy, that feels so good. Love your mouth on me.”

“Don’t stop, Din.  Need you, been waiting for you to tear me apart for so long.”

“Din. Din. Din… please, fuck, you’re so good at this… so good to me.”

“Please, oh god, please.  Daddy, I want to come all over your face, please daddy, daddy please let me come. Ahhhhhhh…”

Spurned on by your praise, Din bares down on you to lick one last hard stripe against your seam before taking your clit in his mouth and sucking.  Not giving you anytime to recover from the change in pressure, he presses in a thick finger all the way into your cunt, before quickly adding a second.  It’s too much, too much, you practically sob, as Din stretches you out and pushes you closer and closer to the brink.  “Baby, you can take it, gotta stretch this pussy out so my cock can wreck it,” he growls as his fingers pump into you with a quickening pace.  Your heartbeat starts to race as you feel your orgasm building in your lower belly; you’re writhing in Din’s hold, chanting non-stop incoherent ramblings of pleasure when he adds a third finger without warning – the added pressure brings a bite of pain that hurtles you over the edge, coming with a scream of Din’s name.

Din slows down his fingers, but keeps in all three, continuing to finger fuck you and lap at your sensitive clit until your whole body stops buzzing.

“Daddy…” you sigh, opening your eyes as Din rises, mouth and chin still shiny with your slick, and closes in for a kiss.  Cupping his face to help wipe away the evidence of your arousal, you sigh into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue as a fresh wave of warmth washes over you.  Still pliant and fuzzy from your orgasm, you let Din lay you down on the couch before he straightens himself up to remove his shirt and jacket; after folding them over neatly at the other end of the couch, Din turns back and braces his arm on the back of the couch to tower his naked form over you.  Fuck.  He belongs in a museum.  Mouth agape at the breathtaking sight above you, your legs part of their own accord, beckoning him. 

Planting himself between your open legs, Din pulls the cups of your lacy bra down with his fingers and your breasts fall into his hands; leaning in close, he whispers, “Wanna see these gorgeous tits bounce when I fuck you, pretty bird,” and as if on autopilot, you prop yourself up on your elbows, giving Din access to the clasp.  After sliding your bra down your arms and tossing it away, Din marvels at your naked body before him; he needs to fuck you like he needs air.  In a moment of miraculous clarity, he whispers, “Baby, do you have a condom?”

Suddenly shy, despite the ache of your cunt, you let Din know, “I’m clean… if you want, Din, you can fuck me bare?”

“Shit, pretty bird.  I’m clean, too. You sure?”

“Wanna feel you, daddy.”

“I swear you’ll be the death of me, baby,” he reveres, leaning down to capture your mouth in a breathtaking kiss. 

“Din,” you whimper, “please… need you… please, fuck me.”

“I’m here, I’m here… such a needy slut.”

You gasp, and for a second, Din wonders if maybe he’s taken the dirty talk too far; leaning away to check on you, he’s pulled back in when you throw an arm around his neck and crush your lips to his, kissing him with explosive want. “Your needy slut,” you murmur against his mouth, his filthy words having you clenching and feeling much too empty, “come claim your pussy.  It’s all yours, daddy.”

“Fuck,” grits Din, “the mouth on you, baby,” as he pulls back to line himself up with your entrance; he notches your opening and pauses for a moment, “Ready, pretty bird?” You appreciate this moment of tenderness, because you’re sure it’s coming right before Din absolutely wrecks you; you positively beam, “Give it to me, daddy.”

Din smirks at your enthusiasm and watches as your confident expression changes to one of being shell-shocked as he pushes in slowly; inch by inch, Din presses into you as you spread your legs further, one leg dropping off the couch and back arching to accommodate him, “Fuck, Din.  So… big,” you whine, hands gripping his shoulders, fingernails marking him to distract from the stretch.

“You’re taking me so well, baby girl,” Din coos, leaning in and wrapping his arms around you in encouragement, kissing your neck and nipping at your earlobes as he continues to sheath himself deep within you.  Finally, finally he bottoms out; you’re so, so full and you think you may have to relearn how to breathe.

Din rests his forehead against yours, panting and holding himself back until you let him know you’re ready;  he’d wager this is no less than a Herculean feat, with your tight warm cunt practically choking him, it’s a wonder to him he hasn’t come already.  Peppering your throat with light kisses and he croaks out words of praise in a husky, strained voice right into your ear, “Look at my good girl, taking me so deep,” “Feel so good and tight on my dick. So, so perfect for me,” “Never want to leave this cunt.  Could stay buried here forever.”

Your breathing, though shallow, finally steadies, “Din?”

“Yes, pretty bird,” he practically chokes.

“Please move,” you plead, “… and Din?”

He looks at your blissed out face as he pulls away from your neck, “Yes?”

“Don’t hold back, baby,” your smile playful.

Din returns your grin, “Any thing my pretty little slut wants,” and he pulls back nearly all the way, before pushing back in with restrained force.  He fucks into you with a few long, gentle strokes, waiting to make sure your moans are ones of pleasure before he lets go and slams into you, burying into you to the hilt before pulling back and driving into you over and over.  You feel the air punch out of your lungs with each of Din’s powerful thrusts; your combined cries and grunts of ecstasy mix with the sounds of skin slapping, filling the room and has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.  You grab at Din’s arms and babble nonsensically, “Din, Din.. Imma… feels so good… baby, baby, please… fuck, fuck...”

The build up to this, to tonight really, has been too much and Din know he won’t last.  Mesmerized by the vision of you writhing beneath him, your gorgeous tits bouncing as you cry out, he vows to make you come one more time before he explodes.  The hand not gripping your hip reaches up to palm both of your breasts and pull at your peaks; Din stutters when you clench down and cry out a symphony of his name in repetition.  As you’re quaking at the pleasurable sting still vibrating in your nipples, Din snakes a hand down to where you’re joined together and starts rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb.  A fresh wave of slick coats his pistoning cock as you mewl beneath him at the added sensation; you’re fucked dumb and hardly able to think let along string together the words to let Din know how close you are.

“I’m close, baby.  You feel… too good… can’t last.  Need you to come one more time for me.  Can you do that for me? Can you… be my good girl?”  Din grunts hotly in your ear, each question punctuated by a hard thrust.

“Yes, daddy, daddy… fuck oh, yes… can… be… good… Oh, Din, Din, don’t stop, don’t stop, Din, DIN! Nghhhhhhhh!”

“That’s it.  Give it to me, let go, baby. Give daddy one more,” Din is barely able to keep up a steady pace as he presses down on your swollen nub.

Crying out, you shudder and shake as Din pulls another orgasm from you; eyes unfocused and mouth open in a soundless scream, you tense around Din’s length so tightly that his own fall isn’t far behind.  As your breathing starts to even, Din pulls out and strokes himself furiously with his fist before shooting rope after rope of cum over your stomach as you watch, awestruck.  So much.  Pulling you up and into his lap with a strong hand to your back, Din kisses you tenderly as you come down from what has probably been the best fuck of your life.

Settled contently in the afterglow, you run your fingers gently up and down Din’s warm back as he continues to kiss you softly; stroking your hair lovingly, he whispers, “Sorry, pretty bird.  Didn’t have time to ask you where you wanted me to come.”

Gosh, you adore him.  Giggling, you kiss that sweet mouth of his, “It’s okay, baby.  I like that you marked me.  I told you, I’m yours.”

“Mine,” Din murmurs between gentle pecks to your lips, cradling your head gently while holding you close with his other arm, “Was that okay, sweetheart?”

You tuck yourself into your favourite nook under his chin and nod into his neck, “Perfect, Din. Knew you would be.”

“You’re my dream girl, pretty bird.”

You close your eyes and sigh happily, fucked out and pulled apart.

“Want to get cleaned up a bit?” Din suggests after a while.

When you nod into his neck, Din stands, still holding you close; softening against you, he effortlessly carries you in the direction of the bathroom that you point him in.  After setting you down softly on your feet, Din helps steady you as you reach for tissues and a hand towel and patiently waits for the water to warm before he gently cleans off his spend from your stomach and his own.  Giving you a little privacy to finish up, Din exits the bathroom first; when you come out, you see he’s gathered both of your clothes from the various places in the living room they were discarded, and is holding them with both hands in a neat pile in front of his nakedness like a sitcom character caught in a compromising position.   Cheekily letting out a low wolf whistle, tell Din how cute he is, then hold your hand out for his which he manages to take without dropping the clothes.

Leading him by the hand to your bedroom, you wordlessly take the clothes from him and put them on top of your hamper before throwing your arms around Din’s neck and kissing him with abandon.  The depth of your passionate for this man, and your gratefulness for intimacy that now exists between the two of you is overflowing.  You want him to know how good he made you feel, that he’s left you changed, filled with a need that you don’t think anyone other than him will ever be able to fill. 

“Do you want to stay over, Din?” you whisper into his lips; as amazing as this night has been so far, it somehow feels like not enough and you don’t want it to end just yet.

Din’s response is to pick you up and throw you, shrieking with laughter, onto your bed and dive bomb after you; giving you just enough time to roll away at the last minute so he doesn’t smoosh you.  Throwing his long arm over your middle, he rolls you back into him before pressing his mouth against yours, “I would love to stay over, pretty bird.  You think Al would be good with me joining you on mornings walks too?” 

Nodding, you smile and card your hands through Din’s curls, still slightly damp from your escapades in the living room, and pull him impossibly closer so there’s more of you touching than not.  The two of you stay like this for who knows how long; naked bodies entangled, strong arms encircling, never-ending soft touches from lips, fingers, hands, lazily mapping each other’s bodies.  Floating over the gentle grazes are whispered pleas for forgiveness once again, reminders that forgiveness was already granted, renewed vows of devotion, and declarations of adoration.  Every caress a promise for the future and an expression of your quiet joy.

With one hand running long, lazy strokes over your back like steady current and the other gently cradling your head, Din’s tongue parts your lips, “Can I have you again, sweetheart?”

Pulling back and looking at Din directly in the eyes, you find a sweet longing that makes more than your heart ache, so you nod while exhaling a satisfied breath.

“Wanna take it slow this time, okay pretty bird?”

Giving a low chuckle, “You always want to take things slow,” you grin, before kissing him earnestly, “I’m yours, Din, however you want me.”

Despite having just told you his intention to go slowly, your words have Din hardening fast as he licks into your mouth and deepens his kisses.

But he’s committed to taking his time and does indeed go slow. 

Slowly, he makes his way down your body, memorizing every curve of your neck and your breasts, every dip and valley of your hips and stomach with his mouth and hands.  Taking a pause at every soft peak of your body to impart loving caresses and murmur sweet words of praise and praising words of filth about what you do to him and what he wants to do to you.

Slowly, you fall apart when his tongue laps at you with the intent to explore and claim, gradually building you up with each lick.  With the patience of a saint, he repeatedly guides your thighs to stay open with firm, but gentle massages from his hands while he lazily sucks on your clit and you cry out long, drawn out whines above him.  He reveres each and every line and crest of your folds with his mouth, as you chant his name and grab at his curls to press him deeper into you for more, more.  Nothing can hurry him – not your soft cries of pleasure, not the strained hard on he ruts into your mattress, nor your dripping arousal running down your centre and soaking your sheets – he deliberately applies the sweet pressure you need to send you tumbling into oblivion when he’s good and ready, then draws out your pleasure even longer by continuing to devour you through your high.

He has to force himself to breathe slowly when you take him in your mouth, and following his cue, set a sweet and slow pace, licking and stroking his shaft lazily before swallowing him deep and working his length in an unhurried, steady rhythm.  Your small, soft hands cup him from below, and your fingers ghost a tickling trail over his balls, humming appreciatively to the sounds of Din’s haggard breathing and the small gasps that escape his throat.  He gently runs his fingers through your hair, brushing loose strands off your face as you suck his shaft and wrap your tongue around his swollen head; massaging your scalp soothingly as you take your time pulling all of him down your tight throat.  It’s almost unfair to call this a blow job when it’s really more of an appreciation of his glorious cock conducted at your leisure, the pleasure you’re receiving equaling Din’s.

Not without regret, Din coaxes you off of him, promising you he’ll come in your mouth another time as he lovingly kisses your messy mouth.  Even his vow of taking it slow has limits, and he openly admits he’s ready to concede, “Need to be inside of you, pretty bird.”

Din’s mouth never leaves yours as he lines himself up between your legs and almost agonizingly slowly, pushes in.  You’re so wet and open that he meets little resistance, but with his unrushed pace, you feel every ridge as he fills you.  There’s none of the urgency and impatience of your earlier dalliance; Din sets a relaxed pace, and braces his forearms on either side of your head, hands tenderly stroking your hair and face as he kisses you over and over.  As he thrusts in and out of you with long, deliberate strokes, Din drinks in your whimpers and soft cries of heady bliss, coming up only for air to whisper sweet praise in your ear about how good you feel around him, how beautiful you are, how perfect you are, made for him.  You don’t hold back any of your own ramblings, murmuring back how incredible he feels inside you, how well he fills you, how happy he makes you, how you want the weight of him on you at all times.  You feel so full, so beautiful, so safe and free, and so loved.  Din had promised to take you apart and put you back together when he finally took you to bed, and you had assumed he meant physically, but you’re sure now that he’s reshaped your heart as well.  With the way he’s looking at you while he fucks you deep and slow, adoring you, you can’t help as your eyes water slightly and tears escape from the corner of your eyes.  “I know, baby, I know,” whispers Din as he soothes away your tears.  Eventually, both your breathing turns shallow, your kisses sloppier, and your moans indecent.  With broken words, you gasp, “I’m so close.  Oh, god, Din.  Please.  Inside.  Please, Din, come inside me.  It’s safe, I-” and before you can finish your sentence, he kisses you to convey his trust, and reaches down to draw figure eights on your clit as he suddenly picks up the pace, giving himself the permission to release what he’s been holding back.  The sudden change in speed coupled with the delicious strokes from Din’s thumb has you coming for your personal record breaking fourth time tonight, clenching down so hard on Din that he fists the sheets next to your head tight enough to turn his knuckles white.  Somehow mustering enough focus to slam into you even harder for three, four, five more strokes, Din comes mightily with a low, prolonged grunt, collapsing on top of you while panting into your neck.

A minute passes and Din rolls off of you and pulls you close; as he slips out of you, you whine a little from the loss and look at him almost shy, to which he kisses your forehead tenderly.  No words needed, he gets up, walks around to your side of the bed to lift you bridal style, keeping your legs closed to minimize the mess on your bed sheets before carrying you to your bedroom ensuite.  After cleaning up, you put on a fresh pair of underwear and a silky camisole for sleep while Din dons his boxers before the two of you slip comfortably under the covers, grinning like tired idiots the whole time.

Pressing you to his chest, Din nuzzles the back of your neck and peppers the nape with light kisses, “Remember when I told you I didn’t plan on getting much sleep around you, pretty bird?”

You hum in assent, remember his teasing from your second date.

“If you keep wearing things like this to bed,” his big hand moves to brush deliberately over your nipples and then trail down your side to lightly spank your ass, “then I’m going to have to start calling in to work.”

You giggle and buck back into him, teasingly, “It’s okay, you’re the boss.”

“Nah, you’re the boss, pretty bird.  From this night on, I’m at your beck and call.  Fall to my knees and worship you, servant to your every whim, ready to topple kingdoms should that be your wish,” you can feel his goofy, lopsided smile against your ear.

“A boxer and a poet?  A lover and a fighter? Who knew you contained such multitudes, Djarin,” you quip, but secretly melting at his romantic words.

“Such a perfect night, baby.  You’re so perfect.”  He kisses your shoulder, then nips it lightly with his teeth for good measure, causing you to yelp in surprise.

Turning over, you snuggle in under his chin, “You were pretty good tonight too, old man.”

“Just want to be good for you, pretty bird.  Want to always make you feel good.”

“You do, Din.  You make me feel so cherished, and wanted, and sexy, and safe.  Really,” and you pull back to look him deep in his eyes, “I meant everything I said tonight, baby.  It’s okay to share your world with me; I won’t judge.  Please don’t ever feel like there’s no place for me by your side; it’s where I want to be.”

“It’s where you belong,” he counters, sealing this declaration with a sweet kiss.

Turning back over, you hold on to Din’s forearms and nest back into his protective embrace; smiling to yourself as the sounds of Din’s gentle breathing lull you into a peaceful sleep.

[luvknow]

after her | yang jeongin

summary: a lonely yang jeongin, fresh from a break-up, finds what it means to be happy again while living with his best friend in the big city. you fall victim to his signs of affections, struggling to define if he’s emptying what’s leftover from his relationship or if they’re truly meant for you. you’d live through the endless heartache if it meant he would smile again. characters: female reader x yang jeongin & stray kids ensemble. genre: romance, friends-to-lovers, hurt with comfort, happy ending. additional warnings: alcohol consumption, university party, some mature dialogue and situations, song lyrics. wc: 11.2k

Jeongin placed the last of his boxes in the living room of his new place you two shared. While you were away at work, he employed an off-duty Minho and Jisung with promises of pizza and beer as payment.

A low whistle escaped Jisung’s lips as his eyes scanned the condo. “Pretty decent for the price in the middle of the city.”

Jeongin wiped the sweat off his brows. “It helps that _____ is a functioning adult.”

“You’ll get there in a couple of months,” Minho patted his head. “Relax while you can before your job starts. The adult world is not kind.”

“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

Jisung shrugged. “Find a hobby. Adopt a pet. Read a book. Don’t worry about anything! What more can a bachelor want?”

“Go to the club, hop on a dating app,” Minho suggested before Jisung hit him.

The first box Jeongin opened was one he wasn’t supposed to. On top, it wasn’t labeled, but on the side in big bold letters was, ‘TRASH. BURN. DONATE. WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT OPEN!!!!!’ On the top layer of stuff was a framed picture of him and his ex-girlfriend under the cherry blossom trees, her eyes curled like sparkling moon crescents and him looking at her like she was his whole world. Beneath were various memorabilia from blind box trinkets to old sweaters of his that still smelled like her perfume. As his heart cracked a bit more, he flopped on the couch face-first, groaning muffled by your decorative pillows.

Minho hit Jisung back. “I told you not to bring that one in!”

“He took it from me before I knew what box it was!”

The two were left unloading the Rent-a-Truck alone as their youngest friend tried to not let too many tears ruin the fabric of the couch. They’d give him a pass this time, but the next warranted multiple rounds of drinks. Jeongin’s energy bled from his body and was absorbed into the cushions, gluing his cheek down until a permanent imprint of the weaved fabric formed on his skin. His eyes stared blankly at the door after his personal mover-bros left and until you walked in, home from a long day of work. A total of six hours where he didn’t move, barely breathing, hoping evolution would kick in and he’d be able to live his life photosynthesizing.

You smiled sympathetically at the damage before you; a pile of boxes, untouched take-out, and an unmoving boy with redness around his eyes that stared off into nothingness.

“Hey, bud,” you began awkwardly. “How’re ya doin’?”

You received a lazy groan in response. He turned over to face the back of the couch, unwilling to elaborate further.

Jeongin called you last Sunday at 2:13 AM. Your first feeling was irritated, as he had better be in some deep shit to be waking you up at this hour on a work night. What you got was worse. Way worse. In a fit of tired, breathless, chest-squeezing sobs and snot-filled sniffles, Jeongin confessed that his girlfriend of just over a year had broken up with him. It was a shitty time to do so, as he was in the middle of signing for a lease after she begged him to move to the city to be closer to her. Luckily, the leasing agency was sympathetic and he went forward with canceling the signing.

The conversation that led him here in your home occurred after he was able to breathe through his tears, wondering what he was supposed to do with his new job contract, and it went like this:

“You’re already mentally prepared to move to the city. Why not do it anyway?”

“What’s the point?” he had asked with a voice so tired of crying. “There’s no reason for me to be there anymore.”

“I’m here,” you replied, offended. “You get to hang out with the most important person in your entire life -”

“By default.”

“I’m going to give you a pass on that because you’re hurting, but you called me, remember?” you had scoffed. “The city will be good for you. Better food, better drinks, things to do, people to meet. Things to distract you, y’know?”

“I can’t do this alone.” There was a long pause before the sniffling and sobs filled the silence on the other end. “If I live alone, I might never leave my apartment.”

Without hesitation, you had said, “Come live with me.”

“What?”

“Yeah! Come live here with me! We’ll turn my office into your bedroom, and voila; casa de _____ and Jeongin.”

“I can’t do that to you. You worked so hard for that place to be your haven.”

“You are my haven,” you had emphasized. “Let me be yours, too.”

A short chuckle on his end. “Cornball.”

Progress was far from linear and the hardest point was ascending from zero. Jeongin was in the negatives. Probably because he had opened a box full of outdated signs of love he and Sieun had given each other the past year and two months. Your face wrinkled in disgust at the sight of her glowing face in a heart-shaped frame. And Jeongin had called you the cornball… Maybe you were a certified hater, but you had to get rid of this box of trash now.

When you bent to pick it up, he gripped your wrist and stopped you.

“Don’t,” he muffled into the pillows.

“Keeping this isn’t good for you.”

“Neither will throwing it away.”

“How about we compromise,” you sighed. “Let’s store it in my closet until you’re ready to toss it. Out of sight, out of mind.”

His answer was letting go of you and allowing you to touch the most tender parts of his heart to store away in your dark, cold, lifeless but stylish closet for it to wither away. You didn’t want any parts of her near your room at all, but you kept muttering, ‘This is for Jeongin. This is for him because you love him, for some reason,’ as a reminder.

You’d repeat that reminder maybe ten times a day for the past week for stupid shit like him not washing his dishes, not putting the toilet seat down, drinking all your specialty alcoholic beverages you liked to save for after-work woes, but what pushed you over the edge was the empty stash of your favorite snack.

“Ok, I’m done!” you yelled. After a long day of Teams meetings and smiling at sleazy men twice your age, all you wanted was a little treat! A little snack! But when you opened your pantry, you were left with an empty box. He couldn’t even throw the damn box away!

You opened the door to his room where he sat in his gaming chair, yelling at his bros on Discord. He paid no mind to the noise, since his gaudy headphones blocked everything and likely bruised his eardrums. So when he couldn’t hear you calling his name, you went up to the microphone.

“Sorry, boys, Jeongin has some chores to do!” You heard a muffle of ‘boos’ from Chan and Felix on the other end before unplugging his set-up.

“What the hell, _____! That was a ranked game!” he whined.

“You!” you seethed, grabbing the remnants of your snack bags before chucking the empty box at his face. “You gluttonous squirrel-faced stupid, stupid boy!”

“Ooh, yikes. I know that tone.”

“You couldn’t bother texting me that we were out?!”

“They’re just snacks, we can buy more.”

“We, who!? Who’s paying the mortgage here? Who’s the one with an actual job at the moment?!”

“I start next month, ok?! And you agreed to a prorated rent because of that!”

“Being jobless doesn’t give you the right to live in my home like a slob! There are responsibilities for adulthood! There are chores and rules for living under my roof!”

Jeongin had this stupid face he’d put on to get whatever he wanted. It worked with Sieun, and sadly worked for you, too. He wheeled himself over on his new four hundred dollar chair (“For ergonomics!” he had argued) and pulled you in between his legs. His arms wrapped around the back of your thighs and his chin rested on your stomach. The stupid, adorable, troublemaker face was up-turned brows, pouting lips, and eyes that twinkled from the lighting above.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “It just… feels nice to be taken care of right now.”

Ugh. Maybe you were being too harsh. A week’s worth of annoyance was nothing compared to a week’s worth of trying to glue back pieces of his heart together when they kept falling apart. Or maybe that was the spell he put you under with his dreamy eyes talking. You couldn’t think straight with your constricting office wear on.

You kissed your teeth. Your hand grabbed a chunk of his curly brown mop of hair and pushed him off of you. “You stink. Shower and get ready; you’re buying me new snacks at the grocery store.”

“But I don’t need to go grocery shopping.”

“You have one pack of instant ramen left; yes, you do.”

–

One of your first memories with Jeongin was the day before you both started secondary school. The last day of summer was spent under the stars on a trampoline in his backyard with empty cans of cola scattered out on the grass. Your heads touched while bodies were oriented in the opposite direction, semi-Spiderman style.

You were the first to voice what you feared most. “Do you think things are going to change?”

He shook his head adamantly. “Never.”

“Nothing is ever non-zero.”

“Must you nerdify everything?”

“It’s not on purpose. I can’t help it.”

“Except you could.” Jeongin sighed, whether out of disappointment or enjoying the feeling of the cool night air, you had long forgotten. His black, too-short-for-a-bowl-cut pin-straight hair poked your ears whenever he turned and knocked his head against yours.

“Ow,” you whined. “What?”

He pointed to the sky. “See that?”

“Stars.”

“Do you recognize the constellation, smartass?” Astronomy wasn’t your strong suit. “Scorpio and Lupus.”

You shrugged. “Who do you think would win in a fight: ten scorpions or one wolf?”

“That’s not the point of my question,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But the correct answer is ten scorpions.”

“What’s the point, then? Of anything, really?”

He pointed to the sky again. “Things will change only when the stars do.”

“Apocalypse-style?”

“Exactly. When they do, it’ll be the end of the world.”

You giggled, tilting your head closer to his. “Cornball.”

“What is a cornball, anyways? Like, a chicken nugget made of corn?”

“Genetically-modified corn in the shape of a ball.”

At thirteen, you both thought these conversations made you comedic, thought-provoking geniuses. They were typical teenage nonsensical word-smithing that’d later evolve into witty adult assholery, but they were ones you’d cherish ‘til the end of time.

“Never change, _____ _____.”

“You, too, Yang Jeongin.”

Tonight, the night sky was as clear as the night before secondary school. It’s been a couple of weeks since Jeongin moved in and progress was there, but it was slow. Some days, he’d spend all day in bed under the covers and you’d have to force-feed him sustenance and flip him over to prevent bed sores. Some days he spent the entire day deep cleaning the tile grout with a toothbrush until his knees were purple. The worst nights were like tonight, where you’d come home to an empty bottle of some mystery brown liquor you didn’t remember purchasing and him passed out on the couch.

It was exhausting for this short amount of time. It was a rollercoaster of emotions and outbursts and constantly having to take his phone away from doing something stupid like calling or texting her. This wasn’t the Jeongin you were used to; you wanted the one who sang tunes and trot jingles, the one who burned mac ‘n cheese on accident, the one who’d wave to little kids when you were out together. The unmoving body was just a shell of him, and just as he struggled putting the pieces of himself back together, you struggled holding the ones he was able to find in place.

You lifted his head by his curls and plopped it back on your lap after taking a seat.

“Careful,” he groaned. “There’s precious real estate up here.”

You didn’t speak, distracting yourself by playing with his hair. His eyes were bloodshot and cheeks stained with drool and salty tears. Sniffles filled the silence.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, words a bit slurred. “I don’t like when you’re quiet.”

“Ask yourself that question,” you replied, mouth full of salt.

“You’re mad at me.”

“I care about you.”

“You’re mad because you care,” he nodded, understanding, or at least pretending to. “I care about you, too.”

Caring wasn’t enough. No amount of love and tenderness from you could replace the one Sieun gave him, and that was evident. How were you supposed to hold him together when she was his reason? You could only do so much, and your best was never enough.

He pointed to the ceiling. “Do you think Scorpio and Lupus are out tonight?”

“It’s cloudy.”

“Oh. Is it?” he sighed. “But they’re still there?”

“They’ll always be there.”

“Together?”

“Together. Forever, of course.”

“How do you know that?”

Was he asking with underlying intention or drunken oblivion? “I just do.”

Jeongin snorted. “Boooo.”

“Boo, you!”

“Ugh, stop moving!” His lips pursed as he rolled off of you. “Nope. I need to throw up.”

You followed him as he crawled into the bathroom, hunching over his toilet bowl. You held his hair back for a bit before realizing you could tie it back.

“It’s so long now,” you admired while tying back his front pieces.

“Sieun hated it,” the toilet echoed.

“I liked it. Very ‘bad boy’. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Yeah. She’s stupid, right?”

“So stupid.”

“Yeah! And so bossy!” He paused, gagging into the toilet. “Bossier than you! Can you believe that’s possible?!”

“I’m not bossy, I just know what I like when I like it and how I like it,” you patted his back a little too harshly this time, “nothing bossy about that.”

“And it’s a wonder why you’re single.”

A sharp pang pierced your chest. Your relationship status was a touchy subject. It’s not that you preferred to be single, but your job was mentally demanding and sometimes required long hours past sunset. It wouldn’t be fair to your partner when your life was devoted to your career and climbing the corporate ladder. Dates were few, and not too far in between, but none of the prospects were worth the trouble when half of them expected you to pay the whole bill when they found out your occupation.

You loved love. It was beautiful, it was kind, it meant always feeling whole. Of course you wanted to be in love. Of course you wanted to touch, to kiss, to always be intertwined with someone. Life was young, and there was time, but the shroud of loneliness grew longer and larger as the days passed. Suffice to say, your single status hit a nerve.

You patted his back hard enough for him to gag one last time. “Good luck not puking your guts out.”

“No, wait -” but you had already shut the door.

It was the kind of topic that elicited a long, hot, reflective shower until the water ran cold. Were you one of those working women who were doomed by capitalism to serve as a corporate slave until you could withdraw from your 401k at fifty nine and a half? To live a mediocre life and settle down with a five-rated coworker for the sake of reproduction and contributing to lowering the birthrate? To settle for the mundane and predictable? That wasn’t the _____ you knew. At the peak of your young life, when did owning your first place meant that it was the beginning of the end?

When you walked out of the steam cloud, Jeongin was buried beneath your duvet, staring at the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the tired, but still awake city. When he first moved in, he mentioned how jealous he was of your nice bedsheets, and you wondered, in that moment, how many times had he napped in your bed without you knowing. Annoyed, but willing, you crawled in behind him, too tired to argue.

He wiggled back, making sure your bodies touched, though he wanted to keep looking out. “Being single isn’t bad… right?”

Was it bad? No. “I like my alone time.”

“But isn’t it lonely?”

It’s never ending. “Only a little.”

“Even when I’m here?”

Especially now, more than ever. “Just a little.”

“What’s your metric of ‘little’?”

Astronomical. “Like a pinch of salt.”

His breathing slowed, body ready to shut down for the night and hopefully awaken before noon. He wrapped your arms around him, begging for a hug, a bit of human connection, something to satiate the pain of wanting to feel whole with someone again. When you gave in, he melted into your touch. This feeling was familiar, but it wasn’t the same. You would never be her.

Just when you thought he fell asleep, you felt his chest jitter, suppressing a mouthful of sobs.

“I hate this,” he said, voice cracking, hands gripping your blankets while you played the big spoon.

You could only nod into the crevice between his wingspan. “I know.”

“What did I do wrong?”

“Sometimes, there’s a reason; sometimes, there isn’t.”

“Then, what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing,” you confirmed and squeezed him tighter. “People fall out of love all the time.”

“Isn’t that fucking terrifying?” he sobbed. “One day, you’re flying, high on life with someone you thought could make forever feel like a day. Next, they tell you they don’t love you anymore.”

“Love is complicated.”

“But it isn’t! When you know, you know. It just isn’t as complicated as many people make it seem. So, what? She knew she didn’t love me anymore? That’s it?”

Complicated isn’t only when someone who once lit up your life now felt like their own fire within fizzled in the darkness. It wasn’t waking up one morning and deciding that they stopped loving you. Complexity was built with intention and time, overthinking and self-reflection. It’s as complicated as math; despite the many ways you could achieve an answer, there was only one answer. Sieun wasn’t a bad person; in fact, you liked her for the time they dated. You figured despite all her might and the many times she tried, she couldn’t force herself to love him anymore. It’s not like she woke up one morning and thought, ‘I don’t love him anymore.’ It’s never just, ‘that’s it,’ as Jeongin claimed its simplicity.

Complicated is spending every moment of free time with someone who knew the deepest parts of you without letting the romantic feelings slip through the cracks. It was intending to confess and ruin a decade’s worth of bonds, all for it to stay hidden with your many secrets when he admitted to finally asking out the cute girl he met through a mutual friend of Jisung. It was saying, ‘I love you,’ to end a phone call while suppressing the ache in your chest as he’d say it to someone else the same evening.

To Jeongin, it was just that. Love. How could one make it so difficult? But to you, there were layers, and someone had to peel them back before you revealed the true nature of your heart. Because after this, after Jeongin was healed and you were left with no one to hold you together the way you had for him, you’d have grown an infinite number of layers to protect yourself. Your future partner would have a lot of work to do.

“Love is an organism. Organisms are complex. It comes in different forms and has different functions. When I say, ‘I love you,’ you think I mean, ‘I care for you,’ right?”

Jeongin didn’t answer. Verbally, at least. His leveled breathing and rhythmic chest rises told you he was fast asleep in a drunken stupor while you had contemplated your answer.

“Yes,” you sighed, snuggling closer, “you do.”

–

Most psychologists would agree that the stages of grief had an order to them. Jeongin, PhD in grief, would say otherwise. In the span of a single day, he’d go between as many as three of the stages. Lately, it was a cocktail of denial, depression, and anger. Today, there was only anger. The drawers would be shut a little too loudly, he’d chew his food a little too aggressively, and his volume and colorful language on Discord closely resembled a sailor.

“Where’s the damn support?!” he screamed into the mic.

“You said you’d be in Zone A!” you heard Jisung yell through his headset.

Jeongin didn’t bother with a response and hung up the call. After whipping his headset on his bed with the strength of a baseball pitcher, he ran a hand through his tangled mop and swore under his breath.

You leaned on his door frame. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Shut up,” he whined.

“You know what would make you feel better?” You drew a rectangle with your pointer fingers, then wiggled the rest in a wave of flames. Then, boom! Big boom!

“No.”

“Jeongin -”

“You said I could wait until I was ready.”

“I think you need to be ready now.”

“I don’t want to hear anymore about that stupid box in your stupid closet with all the stupid fucking shit in it!”

If there was one act you wouldn’t tolerate from anyone, even with a bond thicker than blood, it was raising their voice. You had barely lifted your hand to point an accusing finger at him the same way his mom would, when he shut his eyes and realized his grave mistake. He knew he fucked up when your eyebrows were raised in that, ‘what did you just say to me?’ manner. He was also regretting how much time you spent with his mom.

“... Maybe we should take the box out,” he muttered.

“Yeah, no shit. Grab the hammers.”

Two adult-sized adult-aged children in hoodies carrying a mysteriously heavy box and a couple of hammers at a public park past sunset was not one would describe as inconspicuous. Jeongin was far from ready to address the box, you realized, when you were forced to carry it all the way and he refused to look at it. Even when you prepared the garbage bag and shuffled through the contents, he avoided any sight of strawberry blond hair and scents of neroli and jasmine. Semi-slicked with sweat, you took the box to the top of the jungle gym and dragged the big baby up to meet it.

“You left the trash bag down there,” he noted.

You nodded. “Grab that picture frame.” The first one was the red one shaped like a heart. You tilted your chin overboard. “Slam it.”

“Like, on the ground?”

“Yup.”

“That’s not very nice... Why can’t we just throw it?”

“Because I can’t be sure you won’t dig through the dumpster and drag filth across my floors.”

“Who do you think I am?!”

“Break it with all your might!”  you demanded, pretending to be angry and Hulk-smashing on the stable platform. “Rah! Into the trash bag, though, please.”

“She gave this to me on our two-month-iversary. She said it was a symbol of her heart,” he reflected, gentle fingers wiping the dust that collected.

“And what did she do to yours?”

“Break it.”

“She stomped on it.”

“Yeah…”

“Crushed it!”

“Yeah…!”

“Stabbed it with a blunt butter knife!”

“Yeah!”

“And did it hurt?!”

“Like a bitch!”

“Rue the day!!”

“Rue the roux!!”

Someone’s hungry. “Yeah, sure!”

With a guttural scream passionate enough to elicit goosebumps, Jeongin chucked the heart frame into the trash bag that splayed on the cement. The plexiglass shattered into big chunks and the frame split in two, shards of wood scattering about. It was a picturesque and artistic display of anger and heartbreak, but you’d never admit how you admired the symbolism to Jeongin’s face.

“That felt good,” he panted.

“Yeah? Do this one,” you said, handing him a mug.

“We painted mugs to give to each other at one of those stores in the mall. She said I didn’t have enough pink things in my life, so pink would be her color for me.”

“Fuck the color pink!”

“I mean, I still like the color -”

“Innie, I’m giving free therapy right now and I need you to work with me,” you hurried him alone by rolling your arms.

“Ok, ok! Jeez. But even you look good in pink -”

“Jeongin!”

“Pink sucks…!” he admitted hesitantly before chucking it into the pile. A satisfying shatter of ceramic echoed into the cloudless night.

“Ooh, heartbreak ASMR,” you sang.

Jeongin pulled a pink lop bunny Sonny Angel, those naked baby blind box toys that will put you in crushing debt one day, from the pile of infinite junk. He twirled it in his hands carelessly. “Don’t you like these, too?”

It was a rarer, sought-out-by-collectors type. You and many others had fingers twitching over the overpriced pay button on the resale apps everyday. “No…” your voice cracked.

“How am I supposed to break this?”

“Pop its head off.”

“What?”

You pointed shakily to its cute, pink ears as it smiled innocently. Your hands pretended to yank apart the head from its body. “Decapitate it.”

Jeongin jumped at the low-effort strength it took, which masked your pained groan. There goes a hundred dollars. Then, he plucked away its appendages. You couldn’t bear to look when he tossed the innocent body parts. May you wish no ill will on any collector to ever witness such a murder.

The rest of the box was junk to a stranger, treasure to Jeongin. Things like concert tickets, an empty wine bottle, dried flowers, cologne, sweaters, and jewelry joined the garbage. The last piece was the final boss; a shadow box summary of everything they’d done in the past year. A collection of restaurant receipts, themed matches, movie tickets, polaroid pictures, and loving post-it notes of cheesy poems and ‘I miss yous’ were stabbed into the felt and protected by a thick cover of glass.

“I can’t,” Jeongin sighed, sharp eyes scanning through the memories. He shook his head. “I just can’t.”

“You know the ‘break for emergencies only’ thingies for the fire extinguishers?” you asked and pointed to the pink box. “This is an emergency.”

“She put so much time into this. Almost everything we’ve ever done is preserved… Just for her to throw it all away two months later.”

When he offered this perspective, perhaps your speech on love not being complicated was more introspective than universally accepted. Two months to know you stopped loving someone was not a long enough time. It took much longer than that to no longer be on the same page, or in the same stage of life, or, for fuck’s sake, fall for an affair partner, right? No matter what the answer was, it made you upset.

You could only offer an affectionate rub on his arm. “Do you want to save this for next time?”

Jeongin took an eternity to answer, as if he read every line of every receipt and every ticket or memorized the way she dotted her i’s and crossed her t’s. Then, he pulled you to him in a side-hug.

“There won’t be a next time.”

The frame of the shadow box split by the seams and only cracked the glass. The felt board was kept intact, of course, save for a few loose polaroids. He wrapped his second arm around you in a full hug, resting his cheek atop your head as your bodies swayed with the wind, needing the comfort of his best friend to protect him in this very vulnerable moment.

“You ok?” you muffled into his chest. He smelled of vetiver.

“No,” he admitted confidently, “I hope I will be one day.”

“You will! You will.”

You two remained on the top of the jungle gym overlooking the twinkling skyline in each other’s arms. His fingers traced little shapes across your shoulder blades, some recognizable like stars and moons, others a choreography of squiggles. Your arms rested holding his lower back. In the quiet night, miraculously not in fear of being arrested, you could have fallen asleep right there.

Tonight, you witnessed no tears or any evidence of them. No pink cheeks, or stuffy nose, or bloodshot eyes. Progress was here for now, and though it was too early to celebrate, you’d both bask in the little victories.

“I’m so proud of you,” you encouraged.

“Really?” he hummed.

“Of course! Always.”

His throat bobbed, swallowing down emotions that threatened to escape. “It still hurts so much.”

“I know,” you agreed empathetically.

“But the destruction helped.”

“See?” you boasted. “Who’s always right?”

“_____’s always right,” he squeezed, “always right and always kind.”

“And always here for you.” No matter how painful it’d be.

The night ended with slow dancing under the stars. Hand-in-hand and the other his shoulder, you led the steps to the beat of his songs.

–

Jeongin found no comfort that was better than your bed. The second you left for work, just as the sun rose and tinted the condo in blood orange, he’d sneak in and crawl under your duvet. When the softness of linen and the weight of the feather down knocked him out hard and for the first time in a month, he was able to fall into a deep sleep and would make this his routine until work started. His body had never felt so refreshed, even before the break-up. It smelled like you; like cherries, cream, and tonka bean. A scent cocktail that was so warm and sexy it was like he was put under a spell.

When you were kids, your room wasn’t dirty, but it was cluttered after falling into the feminine urge to gather all things shiny and trinkety. Now, he noted, adulthood hadn’t knocked that part of your brain out while still developing your frontal lobe. You didn’t have as many rocks lying around anymore, but your decoration consisted of naked baby toys and other colorful vinyl blind boxes, music albums, movie posters, and pictures of your loved ones.

Jeongin had looked through every picture in your room about a thousand times already, but only had now noticed that he was in almost every single one. Some were just with you and your parents, but even many of those had him in it. He liked the ones in your younger years; going through the gross and oily phases of puberty, matching ice cream-stained camp t-shirts, teenage-year birthdays, and his favorite was the one from prom night. You wore the sparkliest, glitter-sheddinng, not-the-most-flattering silhouette of a gown that many other girls matched in different colors. But he was just as ridiculous; too small in his poorly-tailored suit, sleeves folded, loose matching tie, and a crooked boutonniere. You both refused to do the prom pose because, ew, touching. So, you dabbed instead. Double ick.

If there was a picture with Jisung, he was in it. Minho? With Jeongin. Your girlfriends? Jeongin photobombed it somehow. He may have ruined some of the compositions, but he was your Jeongin, how were you supposed to throw them away?

Jeongin’s parents once asked if he would consider marrying his best friend. Knowing them, they were serious. At the premature age of twenty, he had gagged at the idea of marriage. Not to you specifically, but tied down? Early into his prime years of bachelorhood? No, thanks.

Then, he met Sieun, and thought maybe marriage was meant for him after all. Forever with the one person you loved so dearly, what could be bad about that? But forever meant really forever, not just a few years, or a few decades, it meant ‘til death do you part and into the afterlife, if that was even real. Maybe that’s what scared her. The thought of Jeongin being her soulmate crushed her world; the thought of her not being his soulmate crushed his. So, now he was back to square one, and he’d rather rot in your bed than make any progress.

Snuggled deep in between your plushies and pillows, he held above him a picture of you on your birthday. You were sitting next to him in front of your cake and had buttercream smudged on your nose while he was bent backwards in an evil cackle. He replayed the memory in his mind. You weren’t mad, but you wanted revenge, and shortly after had also smeared some under his nose in a stylish mustache.

In bed, he couldn’t help but snicker. In between sessions of handheld video games, he’d shuffle through more pictures until time passed by too quickly and the day was spent.

“Jesus -” you gasped, clutching your chest as you entered your room. “Yeah, sure, come in.”

“Thanks,” he sang half-heartedly.

“Have you been doing this every day?” He responded by shrugging. “He’s in pain, he’s hurting, and you love him…”

“I don’t like this picture of me.” Jeongin held up a recent one at a dinner party Hyunjin hosted for his condo-warming. His face was unprepared for the picture and his eyes were closed and mouth open. “I’m not even looking at the camera.”

“Yeah, but I look good,” you boasted.

He tossed it to the side of the bed in a pile of likeness dubbed, ‘throw these ones away’. “I like this one in front of the art museum, though.”

“I do, too.”

You hopped next to him on top of the covers, shuffling through the different piles he made. It was clear which ones he liked, disliked, and didn’t care for. “You don’t like this picture of me and Changbin on our graduation day?”

“Am I in it?”

“No?”

“Then, no.”

“You like this one, though?”

It was a solo picture of you on the same day. He found it hidden in a box of other pictures that were either blurry or of you alone at special events or academic and career achievements. You wore your gown and held your cap that was decorated with plastic jewels that spelled, ‘So Done with this B.S.’, high above your head with the brightest smile on your face. Around your neck was a necklace that he got you for your graduation gift: a petite padlock on a simple chain from one of those boutique brands all the girls liked.

This was one of the most important days of your life. You were happy, sunny, and beautiful. Of course he liked this one.

“Meh,” he shrugged. “I guess you look all right in that one.”

You spent the night in bed recalling stories and social media posts of times past with oily take-out from the corner restaurant downstairs. The quiet weeknight was livened by your giggles and ugly snorts and Jeongin couldn’t remember the last time you two did something like this. It lasted until it was too late to care to kick him out of your bed and you both fell asleep covered in film and prints.

If forever meant forever with you, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

–

Clubbing was a past time that Jeongin probably shouldn’t partake in due to his borderline alcoholism, but when it was for Jisung and Felix’s wombo-combo birthday bash (their words, if you’d even call them such), no one was safe from the heavy pour of Hennessey or bottom-shelf tequila down one’s throat. The weather was still appropriately warm to show off skin, and both you and your roommate took advantage of that, claiming that it was still hot-girl summer and this would be the best time to show off how perfectly fine everything was.

Jeongin rested his chin on your bare shoulder as you stared into the mirror. He had shown his affection more in a physical form after the destruction of his romantic paraphernalia. You should probably set some boundaries… Next time, maybe.

“You might as well go topless,” he teased, poking at your skin-tight top.

His touch tickled and your body stupidly reacted to it more sensitively than any other man who once touched you. “I’m sure you’d like that.”

He neither confirmed nor denied, only nuzzled his curls deeper into the crook of your neck. He styled it in the half-ponytail way you both came to love and work all black, sparkles of silver and pearls adorning his neck. Just as you had barely-there clothing, as did him, exposing hard-earned results of his efforts in the gym. His daytime clothes of soft linens and cottons dyed in innocent shades of blues and oranges matched his aura more than this edgy alter-ego that came out in the presence of alcohol. Soft Jeongin would be in a deep sleep tonight.

“Pearls?” you scoffed. “You slut.”

“Too much?”

“No, but you’re certainly sending the, ‘I’m single and very much looking,’ signal.”

“Perfect!” he shrugged. “When was the last time you went to a pregame, anyways?”

“When did you turn twenty-one?”

“Ok, grandma.”

You threw your hands up in defense. “I’m sorry I am a working woman.”

Skin touched more skin when his arm hooked your neck and dragged you to the door. The closer the taxi approached the condo, Jeongin’s hands more frequently wiped on his pants.

“Do you think she’ll be there?” he asked, sensing your concern.

“I don’t know,” you lied.

A couple weekends before this, you had personally asked the two celebrants to not invite her to the pregame. If they felt so inclined to invite her to the club for the sake of keeping the peace, at least then Jeongin wouldn’t have to be in close proximity and you could drag him away. Jisung was the one who tried to protest, but after begging and bribing them five rounds of drinks on the night-of, he caved in, though claiming he was going to not invite her anyways. He just wanted to see how far you’d go for your ‘beloved “friend.”’

“I need a drink,” he groaned.

“Look at me.” When he wouldn’t, you had to force him by grabbing his bare shoulders. They were much bigger than you remembered. “Say it with me; I am smart, I am sexy, and I am fine.”

“I am smart, I am sexy, and I am fine?”

“I need more gumption, babe. Give me some umph!”

“I am smart, I am sexy, and I am fine.”

“More!”

“I am smart, I am sexy, and I am fine!”

“Yeah!”

“Smart, sexy, fine!”

“Yeaaahh!”

“Let’s drink!”

After tipping the taxi for suffering through your pregame to the pregame, you and Jeongin did more breathing exercises outside their condo to the tune of the hip-hop music inside. All charged up, he opened the door and you stood in awe just how many friends two boys had post-university. The floors were already sticky with juice and liquor, and there was barely room to get to the crowd of people you actually knew. Luckily, Jeongin was tall, and he grabbed your hand to lead you in. This, for some reason, felt more intimate than slow dancing at the park, and that’s when you knew you were embarrassingly touch-starved.

Jisung squeezed himself in between and slung his arms across the shoulders of his close friends. “Long time no see, sugar mama!”

“Hello to you, too, mooch,” you smirked. “Happy birthday, I guess.”

He landed a big wet one on your cheek. “Thanks, babe!”

“Ugh, ew. Where’s the other child?”

“_____! Jeongie!” the deep voice of an Australian boy slurred. He handed you two plastic neon shot cups of brown liquid and no chaser. “Shot o’ Henny! House rules.”

“You disgusting, gross, icky boys…” you groaned.

“C’mere,” Jeongin urged. He twisted his arm around yours so they’d cross, causing your faces to inch closer. His dimples poked his cheeks. “Bottoms up!”

That was the motto of the pregame. One after the other after the other after losing games in humiliating succession made your vision double and made walking feel like you were on a ship. Chan had to catch you not once, but twice, from tripping or bumping into someone. It was as simple as one hand on your waist and pulling you into his chest, to which you so shamelessly placed your hand on when he hugged you close.

“We keep running into each other,” he grinned, biting his bottom lip.

“Must be fate,” you flirted back.

For the second time, Jeongin had to pry you away from the hottest man in the room. Annoyed, you followed anyway, because tonight you were supposed to distract your best friend from falling into a hole filled with existential crisis, not trying to sleep with someone he considered his brother. Still, you shot Chan a hand sign to your ear. ‘Call me!’ you pouted.

“Why would you cockblock me like that?” you whined.

Jeongin didn’t answer right away. He cleared his throat. “It’s time for the club, silly.”

You two shared a sedan with the birthday boys and Minho. One person above the normal limit, but the driver didn’t care and would rather hurry to do the drop-off.

Jisung patted his lap. “Got your seat, sugar mama.”

“No,” you and Jeongin said in simultaneous deadpan.

“Felix, move up,” Jeongin demanded. He man-spread as much as Jisung and Minho allowed, making a small seat in between his legs.

You’d be the first to admit that sometimes you and Jeongin were a little too close to be considered friends; even strangers had mistaken you for a couple once in a while. But you’ve never been close to him like this before. Your hesitation was long enough that Jisung had to yank you into the car. You did your very best to settle in, moving your ass as little as possible, struggling with how you could make this any less awkward and cover the least amount of surface area.

Jisung wrapped Jeongin’s arm tight around your waist and slapped his triceps. “All buckled in!”

As Jisung and Minho yapped each other’s ears off, you and Jeongin remained silent. If you turned to talk to him, your ass would graze his pants, and that was weird, right? Yeah, weird, and it seemed he had a similar thought. The exception was tapping his fingers on your waist to the beat of the radio. His breath tickled the skin on your neck, and your body betrayed you by heating up your face. Touch-starved was an understatement. No, horny was not the right answer; you’d refute it.

You couldn’t have crawled out of the sedan faster. The other boys rushed in to line up at the bar (“Don’t forget what you owe us!” Jisung whispered (yelled)). Behind you, Jeongin scanned the crowd. You followed suit and couldn’t find a beautiful short girl with strawberry blond hair. Ok, this was a good sign. Maybe she wouldn’t come! He let out a breath of relief; or was it disappointment? Regardless, he joined you on the dance floor and weaved between people, dancing against the oontz-oontz.

In this moment, while your veins were half-filled with alcohol and both of your closest friends closed in with over-filled cups, you watched Jeongin forget his woes and sing to the sad up-beat electronic music. A circle would open up in the middle at the peak of the song; Changbin would break dance; Minho and Jisung would body roll; Felix did the worm; and Jeongin would force you into a connected chain reaction of shoulder and arm waves. In these moments, he smiled. Grinned, even; dimples as deep as they could be and eyes twinkling under the neon lights from the DJ.

When the boys dispersed for another drink after a couple of hours of burning calories, you two were left alone again. In those hours, you couldn’t count how many times you made eye contact. After locking eyes again, feeling the highs of euphoria and the lows of heartbreak, he looked like he was going to say something. Then, he broke it, and his face dropped. You didn’t have to turn to see who it was, but like a moth to a flame, you were attracted to the pain.

She greeted Jisung and Felix at the bar on the opposite side of the club. It was too easy to spot her in the dark with her bright hair. She introduced the boys to someone next to her, touching his arm and leaning against him affectionately, making it as clear as the vodka shot in her hand that’s who she was with and he was hers.

How quickly the human heart beats for a lover, just for it to dance to the same rhythm for another.

Jeongin seemed apathetic. Not angry, not sad, and maybe unable to distinguish between if this was the ache of betrayal or the nostalgia of closing a chapter that begged to end.

Speaking of nostalgia, an old EDM song that premiered in your early years of middle school began, the familiar notes from a piano causing the whole club to scream.

You reached out to your soulmate. “You love this song.”

He smiled, eyes tired and filled with sadness, though without the reflection of a pool of stars. “I do love this song.”

You led him to the front where the DJ played Clarity. Lost in the crowd packed like sardines with strangers, you and Jeongin were free to sing out the shadows that slept in your hearts.

“Hot dive into frozen waves where the past comes back to life,” you sang at a horribly off-tune. “C’mon, I know you know it!”

“If I fear for the selfish pain, it was worth it every time,” he sang in perfect key.

“Louder! Hold still right before we crash ‘cause we both know how this ends!”

“A clock ticks ‘til it breaks your glass and I drown in you again.”

You forced your heart to sing its song and it retaliated in waves of tragedy. As your lips stretched to retain the smile, you screamed with the crowd, “‘Cause you are the piece of me I wish I didn’t need!”

And he joined in, matching your volume, matching your energy. “Chasing relentlessly, still fight and I don’t know why!”

In unison, you threw your heads back, crying into the air at the peak of the song. Like shadows, the crowd mimicked each other with hands curled into fists and hearts raised to the sky. “If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy? If our love’s insanity, why are you my clarity?”

“Let’s go!” you cheered.

The beat picked up and the crowd jumped to the chorus. The bass of the song reached your heart and pumped blood through your veins, tired from fighting with rationality. You would take these short five minutes to let go, let your heart confess to the boy in front of you in the form of a 2013 poetic masterpiece. Despite the meaning, the beat was too sick and you couldn’t help but grin from the fun. Jeongin wasn’t one to hide emotions for the sake of saving face, but it was like he forgot why he was screaming as he headbanged his way through the wordless chorus. You both burst into a fit of giggles, blinded by the lasers that cut through the smoke machine.

As the song progressed, the more your bodies pressed together. Side by side, mixing sweat with sweat, you both screamed at the DJ the second verse and would turn to each other again for the iconic bridge. His dimples carved into his perfect skin and this would be a core memory you’d lock away forever despite the molotov cocktail of despair that ignited in your gut.

The line you screamed to your best friend was the one that branded itself into your whole being. It was the one line he refused to sing.

“You are the piece of me I wish I didn’t need!”

He didn’t continue the pattern of bouncing off lines from each other. He stopped jumping, brows furrowed in a way that concerned you more than it concerned him.

“What?” you paused.

Jeongin closed the gap between your bodies. Surrounded by violent waves of people, you blocked them out within the bubble, unable to hear the song anymore. His hands cupped your cheeks. Your mind registered a second too late that he was wiping something with his thumbs. It felt wet and warm, freshly flowing on your numb face.

His hands left your face and found your arms. You watched as he wrapped them around his neck and his dropped to your waist. The strength of his grip was desperate and longing, filling an emptiness that physically you could replace, but lovingly couldn’t replicate. You begged your body to step away, to run out and find Chan or anyone else; to go home even, but tonight your heart controlled your mind and overwrote the command. This was what you wanted, what you needed, what you dreamed of since secondary school. To be in the arms of the one you loved fulfilled the one level on the hierarchy of needs, but was a threat to the one below it. Your body was struggling to respond to its fight-or-flight, understanding that you had long crossed the thin line between friend and lover long ago with a size thirteen shoe, but it had betrayed you and glued your heels to the sticky dance floor.

Why was Clarity the longest fucking song in the world?

The smell of his pink peppercorn and cedar hit your senses and brought you back to life. You felt his forehead against yours, nose touching nose, his breath tickling your lips, and saw his eyes float between them and your now dry eyes.

“Why?” was all you could muster against his lips.

He answered by swallowing your words. You never understood the comparison of the softness of rose petals until you felt his. You kissed him shyly, waiting for him to pull away in a shocking realization of regret and prepared for the aftermath. But when you wouldn’t respond how he wanted, he pressed harder, moving his lips hungrily and mouth open and welcoming to receive. Your tongues danced and tasted the bitterness of tonight’s drinks, old lovers, and repressed confusion. But it felt good; so, so good. To be the one he wanted for once, whether it was real or for convenience, was an opportunity you pathetically couldn’t pass.

And your heart, how it soared! With wings made of wax, you were high above the clouds, tangling yourself with him and exchanging euphoric hums. But your dreams were sculpted by Daedalus and delusion was the sun, and though you wished to remain here forever, your wings began to melt and reality wouldn’t be kind enough to soften the fall.

When you broke for air in the middle of the next song, you felt pressure rise in your nose and eyes as a million tears collected. You knew this wasn’t what he wanted; or rather, you weren’t what he wanted. He wanted the same memory, the same cry of song, the same touch, the same kiss, the same taste of breath; just not yours. He wanted hers. You knew in the deepest corner of your heart that he imagined holding her instead and that her breath was the one he’d breath in. In the ideal scenario, you’d be out by the perimeter watching your best friend win back the woman of his dreams and he’d hold her so tightly, afraid that she would drown in the crowd. You were meant to be his biggest fan, not his greatest love.

“Why?” you cried again.

He shook his head. “I just thought -”

“This isn’t right.” But you wished it was.

Outside, the busy streets in the middle of the night were deafened by the bass and proximity to the DJ. It was a miracle you heard the honk of a nearby taxi that’d take you home.

No, you wouldn’t confess to your best friend in a club downtown. No, you wouldn’t confess any other time regardless of circumstance. This was a secret the recipient of an unrequited love was supposed to bury with them to their grave because it was the deepest sin committed between two best friends. As long as you didn’t confess, the bond wasn’t severed and the damage could be repaired. That’s how it was supposed to work, anyways.

For the night, you’d lock yourself in your room. You’d close off any and all avenues in order to protect and repair the critical condition of your heart. So much of it had been chipped away and given in pieces to fill the gaps that Jeongin was missing, but now he was confusing kindness for love and familiarity with feeling whole. How would you get back the pieces of yourself you so willingly gave up? Would your heart know to create those pieces into something new, or would it reject anything that came in its place that wasn’t from him?

You arrived home and washed away the sins until your skin burned from all the scrubbings. The sky was cloudy tonight as you looked outward into the lively streets of young adults who could party until the sun snuck above the horizon. The stars wouldn’t show themselves tonight.

Would Scorpio and Lupus be there tomorrow?

–

When your door handle wouldn’t give, Jeongin gave up and retreated to his room some time after 3:00 AM. He laid in bed and hated the feeling of his bed sheets. They weren’t as soft and they didn’t envelope him in a blanket of clouds as yours did. Though the ceiling color was the same as yours, in a sense, it still wasn’t the same, as he was in his own room and not where he belonged.

You had burned into his soul. The way your lips felt, the way your tongue swirled, the way your hands pulled him in, was the answer of how much you yearned for him. He was no stranger to signs of affection. No friend would do all of this with their heart in platonic mode. You didn’t look at him the way Felix or Chan or the others did. You, with your softened eyes and gentle touch, had him in your heart, for the Gods only know how long.

Jisung was the one to kick him out of the club and kick what little sense was left in him. “Go after her, you idiot!”

His lips were tingly. The feeling of your hands through his hair, fingers gentle and tracing the map to your heart, was carved into his scalp. His tongue swiped across his lips, lonely and aching to have another taste.

You infected him. You forced poison down his throat that made him unable to sleep, torturing him with a recording of your body pressed on his. He blamed you for how it planted itself and festered into something more salacious; a similar scenario, with tangled limbs and messy hair, but in the privacy of your bedroom and much less clothing.

In the days that followed, you pretended that night never happened, but something changed. Your responses were shorter, your cheeks were pinker, you couldn’t hold eye contact without faltering to his lips, you wore baggier clothes, and couldn’t even spend more than fifteen minutes in the same room without having to leave to ‘get water’ or ‘go to the bathroom’.

Why, for the love of all the Gods, hadn’t you confessed yet? Isn’t that the rational next step?

“Why would she?” Minho snorted while kicking his feet up on your coffee table. Jeongin would wipe that down later.

“Why wouldn’t she?” he repeated.

“You understand you live here, too, right?”

“So…”

“So… isn’t that weird? What are you going to say? ‘Cool, I’m still not over Sieun though, sowwy. Can I still live here, though’?”

“But I am!”

“Yeah, right.”

“I swear. Seeing her with that guy… sure, it sucked ass, but I don’t know. No one ever likes to see their ex with someone else.”

“No one likes taking care of someone they love who loves someone else, either.”

Jeongin pulled the string on his hoodie and hid inside. “I just feel like a confession would get rid of all this tension -”

“Sexual tension.”

“Regular tension.”

“And change the trajectory of your friendship and lives forever, so much so that the stars would misalign and chaos would ensue. Just as the prophecy foretold,” Minho rolled his eyes. “You know what, Jeongin, you’re right - _____ should confess her undying love to her best friend of over a decade who just broke up with the first love of his life after they made out on the dance floor to fucking Clarity, of all the damn EDM songs in the world, and then all would be normal, right? Nothing good has ever come out of tongue dueling to an EDM song.”

“I don’t need your sass…”

“Yes, you do, because you’re acting like an idiot. I don’t care what Jisung says, he’s too much of a loverboy. Think rationally, here; she’s not going to confess to someone who she knows doesn’t feel the same way. It’s that simple.”

Love was an infectious disease and Jeongin didn’t have the proper antibodies to defend himself against your poison. His heart, his mind, and his body were firing alert signals to each other whenever he saw you. His body would block them when you came home in your work-out clothes; his mind couldn’t focus whenever you spoke to him; and his heart wrenched when your smile didn’t match your eyes.

“Earth to Jeongin!” you snapped, waving in front of his face.

“Hm?” he asked, pretending your chest wasn’t in his face. His mind did a double-take when it registered your outfit.

“I said I’m going out for the night. So, you know, don’t light my home on fire.”

“Out where?”

Your back stiffened. “On a date.”

–

When Minho hit you up during your lunch break on a Friday afternoon, you were half expecting him to ask when the meeting was with the developers. The other half was not expecting a proposition.

“I don’t date co-workers,” you deadpanned.

“Not me, genius,” he scoffed. “A friend.��

“I’m not interested in Jisung.”

“How we got promoted at the same time is beyond me. I have other friends!”

“Do they look like Chan?”

“Sadly, no. They don’t look like Jeongin, either.”

Since the clubbing-turned-friendship-destroying wombo-combo, Minho made it his mission to terrorize you about it every working hour, either in person or over Teams with kissing, tongues, and eggplant emojis. Each time, you couldn’t suppress the burning on your face and in your chest. Your showers had to be ice cold for you to not remember how his hands gripped your waist and to forget how warm his tongue was around yours. At work, you often found yourself dazed, looking out at young couples that passed the streets below, daydreaming about kissing Jeongin again every time a couple would kiss at the stop light before crossing the road, or kiss each other goodbye, or just because.

You were sick with the lovebug and there was no remedy available. What made Minho think a date would work?

“No,” you said.

“Come on, _____! Live a little!”

“No!”

“So you’re saving yourself for a man who only kissed you because he felt sorry for you.”

If anyone was going to tell you the hard truth, it would be him. That didn’t make it hurt any less. “You think I can’t get over him.”

“I know you can’t.”

“That’s not fair. I didn’t ask for this.”

“You wanted it.”

“Of course I did, so what?!”

“You need to either move on and forget it happened, or fuck each other and see where it takes you. Which would you rather tell Jeongin?”

Minho was brash, but he was right, in a sense. If you couldn’t feel comfortable in your own home, you’d be drained of all life and cease to exist, living as a hollow body that went to work and came home to sleep. But was moving on or sleeping with your best friend truly the only two options?

Maybe you were an idiot. “Not a date. A drink.”

“Same thing. I’ll set it up tonight.”

“Tonight?!”

“Take it or leave it.”

There was some satisfaction in the way Jeongin’s face twisted when you admitted to a date. Yes, you put on your tightest clothes; yes, you put on your favorite perfume; and yes, you weren’t wearing a bra. All of which Jeongin realized, based on the path his eyes traveled.

“A date,” he muttered. “With whom?”

“I don’t know. Minho set it up for me.”

“Minho?” he sneered, then shook his head. “And you’re going?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t go.”

“Jeongin -”

He stood from his seat on the couch. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I can’t -” you stuttered, unable to form the words you wanted to say in order. “I’m going.”

He blocked your path to the door. “I think we should talk.”

“About what?”

“About that night.”

“Now?” you scoffed. “Right now?”

“Yes.”

“This is something I want to do. Please,” you begged, “let me go.”

“I think you don’t want to go.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

“I think I do.”

“Well, you’re wrong.” The familiar sting on your nose returned. “You don’t know anything.”

“I think -” he paused, voice caught in his throat. “I know what I felt from you that night.”

“You know,” you chuckled bitterly. “You know what, exactly?”

“I felt you. I felt ten years of frustration, of anger, of-of desire, of everything that is both good and bad -”

“Jeongin -”

“How can you say that I didn’t feel how your heart beat against mine, how your lips pressed deeper -”

“Stop -”

“No!” he cried out. “I won’t stop! I can't! I-I need to know.”

“Are you asking for something? Are you looking for an answer that you already know?”

“Yes!”

“Why?!”

“Theories can be proven wrong.”

“But why does it matter?”

His voice cracked and he couldn’t manage to look you in your glossy eyes. “We need to lay everything on the table for this to work.”

“What’s not broken doesn’t need to be fixed.”

“But it is broken! Everything’s broken! It’s all a shattered mess of pieces that don’t fit together and we need to repair what’s broken when it’s all laid out in front of us.”

“Why?” you stuttered. “Why tonight? Tonight, of all nights, when I have something that’ll make me forget about that night for just a couple of hours?”

Jeongin couldn’t answer. It could have happened any night. But the game of life threw in a time-sensitive prompt that changed the whole plot. The fact that you wanted to forget, but couldn’t, might be the only confession he’d get.

“I can’t keep revolving my life around you,” you whispered. “I can’t keep loving you the way I do and maintain the friendship you need from me.”

There it was, the confession he was looking for, but not in the way he expected you to admit. He thought you’d do so while looking at the ground, hiding your smile the way you would act shyly, and maybe it’d be a little embarrassing. But as you stood before him, you were standing strong, refusing to break eye contact, with tears streaming down and dripping from your chin. It was in a way that begged for him to see you for how you really felt; like he was ripping your heart from your chest with his bare hands.

Your hands curl into fists in an effort to stop the tears. “If I lay the pieces of my heart on the table, I can’t take them back.”

He stepped closer. “Why not?”

You stepped back. “Because I won’t be able to put myself back together.”

“I’m here. I was made for you; to help keep you together.”

“Not in the way I want. In the way I need.”

“Yes, yes to both!” Jeongin grabbed tissues to dab the tears from your precious face, as if your skin was coated in porcelain. “I want to make this work.”

“This friendship.”

“No.”

“I am not her!” your voice cracked. “I am not her and I can’t fill in for the gap she left behind.”

“I don’t want her. I want you.”

You still couldn’t accept it. It just didn’t make sense. You were made to care for him from afar, not stand by his side. “You don’t mean that. You had ten years. Ten years! It only changed because, what, you're desperate for touch and you're going after the easiest catch? It's pathetic. You're pathetic!”

Your sharp tongue was your greatest weapon, but Jeongin was left unscathed. You were hurting and had a decade's worth of hardened shells that were crumbling in front of him. Yes, this was all too sudden, and it didn't make sense, but he was losing you and he'd rather break you down into a million pieces and deal with the puzzle later if it meant you'd stay.

“_____,” he whispered. He pressed his forehead against yours as if the closeness would allow you to read his mind and hear his heart scream. “I can't stop thinking about you.”

You sucked in a breath. Those words felt like a spell that lit your body in flames. Your mind said to run, but your body and heart had overruled. You tilted your head and your noses touched. “What if this doesn’t work?”

“Theories were tested repeatedly to be deemed true.”

“Tested a lot of times.”

“A billion times.”

“That takes a very long time.”

“I’ll take forever with you,” he breathed on your lips. “If you’ll have me.”

Your iron grip on his sweater would surely leave a mark later, but you were too afraid to let go, too afraid that this moment was a dream and he’d disappear if you faltered. “I was yours for ten years. I’ve been waiting to have you.”

One soft kiss. “I took too long.”

Another, more needy, kiss. “You can make it up to me later.”

And another, one that mimicked the hunger from that night. “Now.”

“Hm, I don’t know… I have a date, remember?”

“Yeah, with me in your bed.”

Your giggles echoed throughout the condo when Jeongin threw you over his shoulder and ran to your room.

And so your heart soared again. Above the ether was the unknown, in the mythical heavens and forbidden territory. But you'd get there together, while your arms tangled with his and noses rubbing affectionately as your breaths combined in between long and slow kisses under your (and his) blankets.

The fine line you once refused to cross bent and folded with your bodies.

–

EPILOGUE

“Yo,” Minho greeted the phone.

“Hey, I don’t think I can make it tonight -”

“She’s sick!” Jeongin interrupted.

“Oh, shit, I forgot about that. Well, thank God!” Minho sighed.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, that was a lie.”

“What the hell/What the actual hell is wrong with you?” you and Jeongin yelled in disbelief.

“Because Jeongin is a possessive simpleton and _____ is a cheap date. Did my master plan work, or not?”

“Well, yes, but -”

“My work here is done, bye!” Minho hung up.

[charlesslut16]

-christmas coffee-

summary : you and mick go on a christmas coffee date and discuss your future home

PAIRINGS : mick schumacher x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : I am bombing you to today but i think that you do not mind! 🎄

masterlist ; DECEMBER MASTERLIST 24’ 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The crisp December air greeted you as you stepped into the cozy café, the soft jingle of the door's bell announcing your arrival. It was a peaceful morning, the kind that felt like the world had paused, allowing you and Mick to take a breath after the whirlwind of moving into your new home.

Christmas was only a few days away, and despite the flurry of holiday preparations and unpacking, there was a quiet calm to this moment—the two of you together, in a quiet corner booth, your steaming mugs of coffee in front of you.

It had been a long week of settling in, organizing, and making the new house feel like home. You had spent hours arranging furniture, picking out decor, and even arguing (playfully) over where to hang your favorite pictures.

Now, with most of the chaos behind you, it felt like a perfect moment to talk about the next step: how to turn the house into a space that was truly yours.

Mick sat across from you, his eyes focused as he sipped his coffee. He wore a soft gray sweater, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show the muscles in his arms. It had been a while since you’d had a chance to sit down and talk—just the two of you, without distractions.

"So, what do you think about the living room?" Mick asked, his voice warm and casual. "What color should we paint it?"

You took a sip of your coffee, savoring the warmth. "Hmm. I was thinking, maybe something light. Like a soft gray," you said thoughtfully. "Something that feels calm and fresh, but also works with different furniture and decorations."

Mick nodded slowly, clearly considering it. "Gray’s nice," he said. "But what about something bolder? Like deep blue? Maybe with white accents. It could feel more... sophisticated, you know?"

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. "Sophisticated, huh? You’ve been thinking about this for a while."

"Well, we’re building a life together, right?" Mick’s smile was soft, his gaze never leaving yours. "The house should reflect us."

You smiled, feeling your heart skip a beat. There was something so simple and yet so meaningful about his words. Mick had always known how to make even the most mundane decisions feel important. It was one of the things you loved about him—how he took pride in everything, especially in the life you were building together.

"I like that idea," you said, your voice quieter now, touched by the thoughtfulness behind it. "Deep blue could be beautiful. Maybe we could mix it with some neutral tones so it doesn’t feel too heavy?"

Mick’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Exactly. We could balance it out with some light gray furniture, maybe some wood accents. Make it feel warm, but also elegant."

You both sat there for a moment, imagining the living room coming together. The idea of creating a space where you’d spend your mornings together, your lazy Sundays, and your cozy nights in front of the fireplace, filled you with excitement.

It wasn’t just about paint colors; it was about the life you were sharing. Every detail mattered, because it was a reflection of the love and partnership that had led you here.

"Okay, so the living room's sorted," you said, glancing at Mick over your coffee cup. "What about the kitchen?"

He raised an eyebrow. "The kitchen, huh? Big decision there. We cook together all the time. We need something that feels welcoming."

You grinned, knowing where this was going. Mick had always been the one to suggest practical ideas that had a personal touch. "I was thinking something warm, like beige or light cream. Maybe with some green plants and natural wood accents?"

"Plants, huh?" Mick chuckled. "You know I’m all about the plants. Let’s do it. A warm, neutral palette with some greenery. That’ll give it life."

"Great," you said, making a note of it in your head. "And what about the bedroom? We still haven’t decided on that."

Mick’s face softened as he leaned in a little closer. "For the bedroom... maybe something calming, like sage green. Nothing too bright, but just enough to create a peaceful vibe. I want it to feel like our sanctuary, you know?"

"I love that idea," you said immediately, smiling at him. "Sage green sounds perfect for the bedroom. And we could mix it with white linens and maybe a few dark wood accents for contrast."

Mick nodded, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Yeah, exactly. It’ll feel like a peaceful retreat."

As the conversation flowed, you found yourself lost in the rhythm of it. The discussions about the house were simple, but they were also so much more than that. They were the beginning of a new chapter—one that you and Mick were writing together. It wasn’t just about the walls and the furniture, but the life you’d build within them.

The coffee cups were long finished, but neither of you seemed to be in any rush. The surrounding café was slowly filling with people, but the world outside felt like it had slowed down just for you two. There was a quiet magic in the air, something that made everything feel possible.

"So," you said, breaking the comfortable silence, "how do you feel about the idea of having a Christmas tree this year?"

Mick grinned widely, his eyes lighting up at the thought. "A Christmas tree? Absolutely. We have to have one. And we’re definitely going all out. I’m talking a big tree, with tons of lights and ornaments. The works."

You laughed at his enthusiasm. "Of course you’d say that. You’re already planning the tree like it’s the centerpiece of the whole holiday."

"It is!" he said, chuckling. "I mean, if we’re going to do this, we might as well make it memorable."

You leaned in, your heart full of warmth as you looked at him. "I love how excited you are about it. You make everything feel special."

Mick’s expression softened, his gaze tender as he reached across the table to take your hand in his. "That’s because everything feels special with you. You make our life together feel like an adventure, no matter how small the moments are."

You squeezed his hand, the affection between you both undeniable. "I feel the same way."

There was a pause, a quiet understanding that settled between you. Christmas was just a few days away, and as much as the house and all the details were exciting, it was the love between you that made everything feel right.

The house was a reflection of your future together, but the moments like these—the quiet mornings spent in cafés, planning the next chapter of your lives—were the ones that mattered most.

"Alright, so," you said, breaking the silence with a smile. "We’ve planned out the living room, kitchen, bedroom, and Christmas tree. What’s next?"

Mick grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Well, we still need to decide on the bathroom. But I think we’ve done a pretty good job for today."

You laughed, feeling the joy of the moment. "I think we’ve earned a break, don’t you?"

Mick stood, pulling out his wallet to pay for the coffee. "Absolutely. Let’s go home, finish unpacking, and maybe—just maybe—start on our Christmas tree."

You couldn’t help but smile as you walked out of the café together, your hands intertwined. The house you’d soon call home was waiting for you, and as much as the details mattered, you knew that with Mick by your side, every day would feel like a gift.

The rest of the world could wait. Christmas, and the life you were building together, was what mattered most.