#this is so jasmine coded

[mistressofthedark033]

@gurlbesimpin 🖤

I scanned in my moon painting from yesterday, and I'm really pleased with how it turned out. I love her shapes, the cracked textures, and the hues—it brings me so much joy! I've realized traditional work truly makes me happiest because the medium has a will of its own.

This motif would make a great shirt design too. :>

[ittybittyax]

When Autumn Begins

Part 6

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Taglist: @alserm @smolkuriboh27 @gt-daboss @smallsday @violetlight @listen2urheart @torakan @andithewhumper @box-beanz @whumpinthepot @chiswhumpcorner @entomolog-t @watair-gt (If I forgot you or you want to be added/removed, comment the latest chapter pls)

[bberetd]

let me cook.

[inafieldofdaisies]

[telugxrl13]

idk if i said this but i finished wottg yesterday? and im trying to finish off the rest of my library books so i can finish the bttm series so i speed read through Here We Are Now by Jasmine Warga from breakfast to lunch and damn that was emotional for a book less than three hundred pages long

[floatingwithlaura]

‘stabbing is a form of penetration’ thank you G (my therapist) for that one.

[heart-eyes-motheracker]

Songs under the cut

[thecoochiefairy]

grillz. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 8.0K word count. wifeblackfem!reader, husband! onyankapon, football! onyankopon, grumpy!onyankapon, sweet!onyankapon, dominant!onyankapon, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, creaming, squirting, pussy eating, choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk/aggressive dirty talk, condomless sex, creaming, slapping ass/face, kissing, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

𝓐ᥫ᭡

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐����𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ y’all already know what it is, it’s yo’ favorite couple. i just hope you like this one. ony is very grillz by nelly + paul wall coded, idk. anyways. lemme hush. for reference, my girl’s hair is in that curly/braids jayda-wayda hairstyle if it seemed confusing ! aight, love y’all. bye. teehee.

visual. visual. visual. visual.

𝓐ᥫ᭡:: your husband is invited to a basketball game.

YOU MIGHT’VE BEEN MORE NEUROTIC THAN YOUR MOTHER IN LAW. You came to that conclusion as you sprinted through the house, the scent of vanilla and jasmine wafting through the air each time you found something else to fixate on. 

You were supposed to be ready an hour ago. Your husband had been invited to a Lakers VS Pelicans game—and if being honest, this might’ve been your first outing since you had your third baby. 

Saint, you’d named him. A little too on the nose, but Onyankopon wanted to keep the tradition of your children’s names going. This pregnancy had been entirely different than Salem or Sage—pains, sickness, barely able to walk, accidents on yourself—you 

endured all the worst parts within your trimesters, but you were so blessed to have a healthy five month old boy. 

Now having three children, life was a lot different than you prepared for it to be. You were a full time stay at home wife. But it came with a price—being without Onyankopon for weeks at a time as he traveled, the overwhelming amount of time that you spent taking care of your children alone—not to mention the lack of dates, and sex. Hard to believe that you hadn’t hunched on your husband in six months. But having children all close in age required an extensive amount of attention, and although you’d die for them, a small part of you just missed being alone with your husband. And now, you had the opportunity—you were just a little too anxious. 

“Papa? Do you wanna pack your football?” 

Your eldest was now three, Salem being the sweetest baby boy you could ask for—he was always helpful with his one year old sister, being the big brother he was always excited to be. You were currently trying to pack up all three of your children for their grandma's house, while you were supposed to be getting ready. Onyankopon was too busy with a conference call to notice your hysteria.

“Yes, mommy. Can I pack my Legos?” 

“Of course, Papa—“ your eyes flick around the bed, noticing that something was missing. You scratch at the bonnet atop of your head, a sigh passing your lips as you question, “You wanna be a big boy and go find Sage’s binky for me? Did she drop it in the toy box?” 

He’s already running out. You turned around to look at the packed suitcases, eyes narrowing as you tried to think if you were missing anything. 

“Say-Say?—did we pack your baby brother’s socks and diaper bag? I know I put down Sage’s—“

Speaking of Sage, your one year old sits on the bed, previously focused on a fruit pouch that’s now drained—Her miniature fingers wave up for your attention. 

“Mommmma—Abu.”

You exhale, “You want your apple slices, pretty girl?” 

She nods, hands clapping together, 

“Yes, yes.” 

She looks around the room, seemingly waiting for the magical fruit that she wants to appear out of thin air—and at this point, you might’ve needed to be a magician.

“Okay,” you huff softly, “Just—okay.”

You place her on your hip as you throw on your house slippers, quickly padding your feet down the sleek stairs of your condo. The open kitchen nearly takes up the downstairs area, your hand reaching for the miniature fridge where you keep Sage’s snacks refrigerated. 

That’s when you stop. Your eyes flick over to your husband as he stands on the porch—you’re able to hear the baritone of his voice as he has the door cracked, pouring food into the bowls of your two Dobermans. You weren’t trying to run into him before you weren’t ready, but it was unfortunate that you lived together—and that Sage wanted those damn Apple slices.

You sat her on the counter as you pulled open the container of freshly cut fruit, putting one in her hand as your voice softly replied, “You’re welcome,” to her babble of “Thanyou.” 

Seeing Onyankopon reminded you of all the reasons you’d married him. The sable shirt he wears hugs the sculpt of his muscular frame, covered by an oversized varsity jacket that fits his broad shoulders perfectly. His cargo pants and forest green Nike dunks pull the entire outfit together, chain heavy on his neck as it shows his jersey number on the pendant. You’d redone his cornrows for tonight, neatly braided as he cleaned up his hairline, crawling all the way down to his facial hair around his lips and jawline. But the current star of the show was the glitter in his mouth, nearly ten bands of fully diamond encrusted grills he’d bought for the both of you—you just hadn’t worn yours yet. He was erotically intimidating at times, your eyes falling to the band on his ring finger. He was yours. 

“Baby,” his deep voice catches your attention, now realizing he was walking back into the house, “I know a nigga ain’t losin’ his mind—why you ain’t dressed?” 

The moment you go to answer, Salem comes flying downstairs. 

“Mommy! I can’t find Sage’s binky!”

Your eyes flicker back to your husband, pulling Sage onto your hip as you confirm, “That’s why.” 

“Why you ain’t come tell me, huh? I would’ve helped you. I was just talkin’ to coach about our last game.”

He looks good up close—smells good too, the scent of his cologne pulls you closer as you breathe in the aroma. 

You shake your head, “You know how I get before they go off to your mom’s house. I wanna make sure Salem has all of his favorite toys, Sage has her snacks and—“

You stop yourself, “Do you remember if I pumped milk for Saint? I fed him before I put him down for a nap, I just—“

And in that exact moment, the baby monitor goes off. Saint weeps through the microphone, wanting the attention of his momma. 

You dig your nails into the top of your bonnet, scratching away your anxieties as you sigh, “Maybe you should just go, Ony. The Pelicans gave you front row seats, I don’t want you to miss that.” 

You weren’t the only one stressed. Onyankopon had been having a hard time balancing football and family life, but he’d been there every second since the season was close to being over. He knew you needed time with him—you’d been cooped up for months.

He raises an eyebrow, “And leave you here? I thought you was tryna’ have a night out with yo’ nigga— I’m tryna’ show you off to the whole world tonight, I ain’t goin’ nowhere until you ready—C’mon, Imma’ help you find lil’ mama’s binky.” 

“Ony—“

“Mama, c’mon now. I wanna make this easier on the both of us.”

He takes Sage into his arms, the one year old babbling giggles as he blows his lips onto her cheek, “You act like you the only girl inna’ house that need attention, huh? Let yo’ momma breathe.” 

You sigh, “I’m not even close to being ready, baby. Don’t we still gotta’ drop them off to your mom’s—“

“My momma gon’ come finish packing them up. You tryna’ find another reason to skip out on this date?”

Okay, maybe you felt a little bad. He was already dressed, up and ready to get out the house without the tribulation of three little ones. This would be an adult night. 

You lean your head into his shoulder as you murmur, “I’m actin’ like my damn momma.” 

A soft chuckle passes Onyankopon’s lips, a hand reaching down to cradle the back of your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

 “Sum’ like that.”

“Don’t be funny, nigga. I ain’t asking for commentary.”

“Aight, Aight. Forreal’—Imma’ make sure they all packed up and go change Saint. I know he givin’ that diaper the business while he sleep.”

He nudges you softly—your arms crossed, eyes looking down to the floor. He knew that you were overwhelmed, and a date didn’t even seem practical at this point. A hand rubs your chin as he tilts your face towards him, a finger curling under your jaw, “You gon’ give up on me now?”

You hated how sweet he could be at times. You pout a bit, “I’m sorry. I’m going, okay? You love me?” 

Onyankopon’s hand cups your cheek, pulling you into a kiss, his lips a bit harsh as he whispers against them. 

“You just askin’ to hear me say it. You already know what it is.”

A smile finds a way to your lips, hands wrapping around his neck while standing on your tippy toes, pressing pecks into his jawline, ”I love you too.”

“Hurry up. Gon’ make that ass clean so I can put my tongue in it—“

“Onyankopon!”

“See? You already gettin’ me started. Should’ve been ready, I wouldn’t have said allat’.”

Here was something else new that came with your third child. Your body. You’d always been curvier in your hips and thighs, but after Saint, that seemed to tenfold. 

The black mini skirt you wore was now was smaller than mini, the poke of your ass nearly peeking from the bottom of your girlishly pink thong. Your matching black baby tee clung around the full weight of your breast, going from a C to a Double D in the span of six months. 

You’d braided the front of your hair and perfected the swoop of your edges, the rest of your tresses bouncing in wand curls above your shoulders. Your lashes darkened your slender eyes, honey freckles bouncing off the complexion of your caramel skin, heart shaped lips coated in brown liner. You weren’t used to heavy jewelry, as Onyankopon had bought you a real anklet—it was weighted, cold around your skin, matching the silver sparkles in the pink platform sandals you wore. 

Your lips parted a sigh as you turned to the side—you weren’t insecure, but seeing the full figure that motherhood had given you in tight material was a bit nerve wracking, especially after months of only oversized clothing. 

 “I don’t look—different, do I?” 

Onyankopon’s eyes narrow at you, chin hovering over your body as he wraps his arm around your neck, gently putting you within a headlock. You smelled good, a bit sweeter. 

”Different,” he repeats, licking his lips, “You look like a muhfuckin’ meal, baby. A nigga might have to keep you inside.” 

You hum a soft laugh, trailing your French tips against the arm that wraps around your neck, “I told you about puttin’ me in these headlocks like I’m one of your teammates,” you roll your eyes. 

He presses a kiss to your cheek, watching you through the mirror, “What’chu’ mean? Thought you liked this shit, it be makin’ you blush like a lil’ school girl.”

He lets go of the pressure, but not the arm around you, “You look gorgeous, Mama. You gon’ stop all that overthinkin’ now?”

“Maybe.” 

You pull his arm down as you turn, running your fingers over the shown tattoos on his neck and face. You hum, “You look good,” sticking your tongue out as you await for his mouth to follow. His grills shine within your vision.

He grunts into a chuckle, leaning down to press his lips against yours. His tongue is cold from the ice he chews, lips always softer than they appeared. His mouth pops from yours as mutters, “You tryna’ distract me.”

You give him a smile, showing off the pure shine of the matching ones he’d bought you. The heart shape of your lips made them look perfect, sultry even. 

“You like em’?”

“You know I like em’,” he rasps. 

His hands are harsh, grabbing onto the sides of your small face as he pulls you back in for another kiss. His lips suck on the plush of yours, “Matchin’ a nigga fly.” 

“You better like them for ten bands, nigga. You be gettin’ real besides yourself cause you got money.” 

“You talkin’, but that money takes care of this family, and be buyin’ yo’ ass allem’ bags, perfumes, and shoes. Daddy be takin’ care of you, huh?” 

His eyes narrow into a snarl, smacking one hand against the plump of your ass, watching it bounce through the skirt it’s hidden behind, making you giggle as he grunts, “I don’t?” 

“You do,” you kiss at his jaw, “Did Saint wake up when you changed him?”

“Nah, I just put him in my momma car. Sage was good too, you know crybaby quick to start screamin’ if she don’t get that binky—and Salem, he just excited to go to grandmas. You know we’ a team, right? I always got you, girl.” 

You sigh, “I know. You um—got his diaper bag?”

“Nah.” 

He smacks your ass again, “Goddamn, girl—Ion’ even know what you just asked me.“ 

You giggle, “The diaper bag, dork.” 

“Can’t hear you. Yo’ ass covering all the sound in the room.” 

“Onyankopon.” 

“Aight, lawd. You ain’t no fun.” 

In this moment, you almost felt similar to a baby—like you’d just gotten thrown into the world without any preparation. You forgot how much you hated the spotlight that was required being married to your husband—this was a Pelicans basketball game, and he somehow got more attention just being there as the New Orleans Saints’ quarterback. Your nerves got the best of you as you pulled up to the front of the stadium, seeing the valet workers prepare to open your passenger door. It was—chaos.

“You’ straight?” 

You give him a nod, knowing you weren’t entirely.

The paparazzi was always a nuisance, and even more so with the news of your newly born baby—Onyankopon could tell that he was being watched as you step out of the car, the flash of  light going off as his hand holds on to your hand firmly, pressing your body into his, as if he was shielding you. You lower your head as you hear him politely answering questions, cameras flashing in every direction—you hated this part every time.

“I’m excited to be able to come to a Pelicans game close to our off season, they been on a roll lately—and Zion, that nigga crazy onna’ court. We gon’ make it a close game tonight—hopefully.” 

The questions were quick to come up, “You have any bets on who’s winning tonight?” 

“Bets? Nah, ion’ do that shit,” he turns to you, “My wife my lil’ good luck charm—she gon’ be the reason they win tonight.”

You lean your head into his shoulder, a shy smile finding its way to your lips as you squeeze his hand a little tighter. He pulls you into a small kiss, the cameras flashing from the showmance between the two of you. 

It was quieter on the inside, the amount of people, security, and other familiar faces crowding the arena as you’re guided to the front row of the court. It was a couple minutes before the game started, and you already knew the drill—you crossed your leg over the other as you fixed your hair, re-touched your lip liner, sprayed yourself of perfume—all the awkward ways you could distract yourself as Onyankopon socialized with others sitting in the row next to you. Unlike you, he was extremely friendly. You would give a soft smile each time he introduced you to someone, but that was about it. You were more comfortable talking to your three year old than most adults.

He’d kissed your cheek multiple times, trying to coax you out of your shell as your eyes stayed transfixed onto the players practicing on the court. He could sense that you were trying your hardest to fit in, but he didn’t want that. He just wanted you to be yourself. 

“You want anything to drink, baby?” He leans down, lips close to your ear as he holds your thigh, “They got food too—it’s gon’ take a minute to get to you, might as well see what you want now.”

You shake your head, eyes flickering up to him, “I’m okay.”

“Don’t be lyin’. I know them’ lil’ apple slices you be stealin’ off our daughter ain’t that good—“

Onyankopon cuts himself off when he sees you smile. He’d always been good at making you laugh, and it wasn’t any different now. 

Your voice is soft as you ask, “They got Sangria? And loaded fries?”

“Oh aight, you tryna’ turn up tonight? You’ scandalous,” which makes you giggle as he continues, “Heard you. I’ll be back.” 

The moment he began walking away, the stadium camera seemed to find him— your husband appeared directly onto the Jumbotron—it showed a quick reel of him on the field, the crowd creating an echo as they cheered. His grills shine under the camera as he smiles, throwing up his fingers as he greets the cheers—It makes you blush. 

The game officially starts. Right on time, a hand rubs at the back of your neck, Onyankopon sitting next to you as he presses a cold drink into your hands, “You need me to turn on yo’ seat fan?”

You lean closer to him as you steal the fries out of his hands, “Nope. Just want you to enjoy the game, baby. I don’t wanna see you cry when the Lakers put belt to ass on the Pelicans,” you giggle.

“I ain’t even gon’ put that Lakers blasphemy into the universe. You actin’ bad.” 

“And you’ delusional.”

“Call it what you want!” 

The game is a brawl. Cheers take over the stadium as the Pelicans manage to get a few points over the Lakers, who are just barely in the lead. You hold back your laugh as you watch Onyankopon lean into the court, eyes narrowing as his voice carries, “What you doin’, nigga? You’ gon’ let him take the ball from you? Ref—you gon’ call that foul? Nigga tripped his feet clear as day!”

You sigh as you take a sip of the sweet alcohol flowing between your lips—this was your husband. 

It was now half time, and you couldn’t lie—you were feeling the effects of your Sangria. You might’ve become a little mouthy as you watched fouls or unfair calls of the ball, nearly as into it as your husband was. When they were back to showing familiar faces against the Jumbotron, your eyes flickered up as you heard the crowd go back to roaring, seeing yourself and Onyankopon in your seats as you watched the game. You gave a shy wave into the screen, giggling as your husband childishly pecked your cheek repeatedly along the Jumbotron. 

“You prettier on the big screen—shy ass,” he nudges your shoulder, “You still good?”

You nod, “I might order another Sangria—or a Margarita, or—one of those. What’s in Sangria, baby?” You tug at his letterman, humming through your question as you lean into his lap. 

A chuckle leaves his lips, “What I’m gon’ do with you, girl? You’ tipsy already.”

And although you were a little tipsy, this was the most laid back you’d ever been in a while. He missed your playful attitude, and even more so when you were comfortable. 

His hand rubs at your shoulder, pecking your cheek as he says, “Ion’ know. How bout’ we order both and mix ‘em into one cup?”

“You’re so smart,” you sigh, “My sexy, smart man.” 

Yup. That was it—you were now drunk.

Well, blame the Sangria-rita you’d just made. You were always able to hold yourself together in an environment where you couldn’t show just how intoxicated you were. But being around your husband without your kids, it might’ve had you a little more relaxed. And horny. When the game ended—and the Pelicans won, of course—instead of going home, Onyankopon had gotten a call from one of his teammates, mentioning that they would all be out at the club for another teammate's birthday, their wives joining in at the section as well. And of course, Onyankopon's friendly ass just couldn’t say no.

He could see the nerves in your face as you arrived at the club. Your eyes scan around, seeing familiar teammates with their wives and girlfriends. You’d never met half of these girls, and the ones you had met already seemed to be having fun together. 

Onyankopon leaned down, lips near your ear as he gently said, “We can go home, Mama. I can go pick up the kids on the way back—“

Were you giving off that you weren’t enjoying yourself? Hell. The Sangria might’ve worn off and made you a little sleepy, but you really weren’t ready to go home. You pull him down by his jaw as you interrupt,“I’m fine, baby. Promise—just need to hear a lil’ music. I want you to have fun.” 

His nose nuzzles against your hair, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he pulls you into his side, “I’m always gon’ have fun if I’m with you, girl. Come on.”

A hand comes down to the lower part of your back, leading you right into a VIP section. Onyankopon was greeting his teammates, a soft wave pulling at your fingers as you greeted the wives and girlfriends. You could be friendly—they just weren’t your type of crowd. 

But of course, you loved your husband enough to try something once. You took a couple of shots with them, Hennessy their choice of drink. When you mentioned that you didn’t enjoy the taste of more common brown liquors, one of them gave you an eye roll, and that was your cue to head back over to your husband. Maybe it was the liquor in your system, but you might’ve been a little irritated from that interaction. 

You wrapped your arms around Onyankopon’s neck as you sat on his lap, trying to hide the annoyance in your face—Too bad you weren’t good with that.

“I see that face you makin’. What happened?” 

You try to shake it off, “I be tryna’ be cool with them hoes. They’ weird,” your murmur to him, going into your purse as you search for your phone.

“You gettin’ mad for no reason,” he holds your phone out for you, “They just be tryna’ fit in with the crowd.” 

“You don’t need to give me explanations for bitches you don’t even know,” you flick your eyes back up to him, “Ain’t nobody mad. If I was, I would’ve said that.”

He raises an eyebrow. Onyankopon leans down into your ear, a hand pulling you in by the cradle of your neck as he questions, “What ‘you gettin’ an attitude with me for?”

“What I look like startin’ an argument with you in front of everybody? I’m just sayin’, I don’t like them girls.” 

“You don’t like nobody. Yo’ ass mean.”  

You narrow your eyes at that. You then wrap your arms further around his neck as you smile, “I like you, Daddy.”

Your eyes. He could see it all in your eyes. 

He raises an eyebrow, pressing a kiss to your lips before pulling you into another one, a bit more harsh as you feel his hand caress across the bottom of your thigh, a thumb stroking against your skin. 

“Keep behavin’, girl. You gon’ let a nigga dance wit’ you, or you gon’ have an attitude about that too?”

“You gon’ throw some ones on me if I dance?” 

You move your hips along his lap, giggling through the shots you were beginning to feel in your system.

“I’m throwin’ hundreds out this bitch if it’s you.” 

Onyankopon’s hand smacks at the side of your thigh, “You talkin’ too much. C’mon.”

You stand in front of him, your eyes a bit blurry from the lowlights of the club, which somehow makes your tipsiness worse—This was a side of you that hadn’t shown in months, the arch of your silhouette drowning in his sight as you hold the edge of your skirt, ass shaking within his face. You dip your head down to watch him from behind, teeth sinking into the plush of your lip.

“That’s how you feelin’?”

Swat, his hand palms your ass hard. The sting rushes into a pleasure you hadn’t expected, making the skin flush.

The mixture of a giggle and whimper passes your lips, barely audible as you hear the music thumping around you. You’re really horny now.

Your brain is foggy—so foggy that you tug your panties to the side for a millisecond, letting him see the glisten of your pussy. You feel his palm latch along your throat from behind, tugging you back onto his lap. 

He grunts, “You tryna’ have me kill a nigga in here.”

“I think that Hennessy’ talking,” you giggle to him.

His hand smacks your ass harder, the sound piercing the atmosphere. The music wasn’t going hard enough to mask it. 

“Yo’ ass gon’ be the reason we leave. Keep fuckin’ playin’.”

“Okay—down, boy. You got a teammate to celebrate his birthday with. Go, imma’ babysit another drink.”

“You gon’ behave?”  he tilts your chin up, finding your eyes in his.

“I always do. Kiss?”

Onyankopon’s lips are on yours in seconds. He knocks your head up as he taps your chin, grills shining a blue tint under the lights of the club before he leaves you alone. 

The thing is, you didn’t exactly do what you’d told him you would.

You’d ordered a lemon drop martini, doing the opposite of babysitting your drink as you consumed it in minutes. A small smile spread across your lips as your mother-in-law sent pictures of your babies enjoying their time at grandmas, and although you missed your kids—the sight of your husband across the club had your attention. 

You could admit it now—you were fully drunk. The club was closing, and you were entirely too far away from home for Onyankopon to drive back. So you’d both decided on a hotel for the night—and with your intoxicated minds, you might’ve chosen the nicest one in New Orleans, booking the rooftop of the tallest building. 

You giggle as he carries you bridal style, using his foot to open the door to the room—and it’s a sight to see.

The floor is marbled, an expensive crystal chandelier casting warm shades of orange and gold across the room. The walls were high, mirrors reflecting the lights from the chandelier. The bed is huge, with a golden, lacy canopy.

You gasp, “Baby—there’s a pool!” 

An infinity pool to be specific—it was beautiful, lit up against the night skyline, the sounds of jazz music faint in the background from the echoes of downtown. 

“Baby. Be care—“  

You almost fall, saved by Onyankopon as he lifts you up by the back of your thighs, holding you in front of him as your legs wrapped around his waist, throat giggling as you hold onto him, “Oops.”

“You drunk as hell, Mama.” 

He tosses you onto the bed before you can answer—And you squeal, drunk laughter passing your lips as you bounce up once, eyes still on the man in front of you—and God, he was your everything. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol you’d been drinking all night, but you missed him—and now, you wanted him all over you.

You watch him undress himself—that jacket hits the floor, tattoos on his arms and biceps beginning to outline underneath the lights.

You groan, “I’m hot, baby. I wanna go swimming.” 

“Ion’ know,” he’s slow with his words, easing out of his pants, “I could just rub up on you, baby. Let you fall asleep in my arms.”

“That’s boring,” your eyes wander his body as you bite your bottom lip. Your legs spread a bit on the bed, “Can I go look at it?”

You were a drunken mess, your words slurred, your sentences a bit incoherent as he shakes his head, chuckling at the sight. 

“You can’t even think straight, girl. Just lay yo’ ass down.”

You roll your eyes, huffing, “Whatever. I gotta go pee.” 

You didn’t give him time to answer. 

Your body was stumbling off of the bed—but instead of the bathroom, you made your way directly towards the pool. You’re tugging off the material of your clothes, stepping out of the skirt you wear, pulling the baby tee over your head effortlessly—you’re bare up top, nipples shining a pretty brown under the lights, your thong molding along your hips at the bottom.

“You’ hard headed.”

His voice is a chuckle, but his eyes glare at you. He watches your body dive into the pool. 

“I thought you was usin’ the bathroom,” His voice is low, eyes at your figure that flows beneath the water as his feet begin to follow you outside. 

And then you come up—Your eyes are the only thing above water, slender as you swim to the edge. 

“It feels good, baby. You wanna feel?” 

You come up more the moment your fingers fall around the flesh of your breasts, squeezing at your hardened  nipples as you whimper, “C’mon, Ony…”

His voice gets lower, “Goddamn. Aight.”  

Your eyes flick down to his dick that slaps his abdomen the moment he pulls it from his boxers, a sultry smile on your face as you swim to the side of the pool where he’s fully undressed, his body towering above you as he steps in.

The minute he steps in, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down within the water as you lift yourself against him. Your eyes glow, your tongue dragging against his lips as you giggle, “I missed you, Daddy.”

Onyankopon chuckles, lips brushing against yours, “What you miss about me?”

“Being alone with you. Touchin’ on you—“

You’re softly whining, your tongue swirling along his throat, meeting him in a filthy kiss as you come up. And of course, he’s kissing you back even worse—tongue invading your lips, drowning you under his mouth. You allow your body to sway its way towards the edge of the water, turning as you lean yourself against the glass of it, back now facing him. Your little show from the club returns, and under perfect lighting? Your pussy was even prettier. It’s pink as you spread it in his face, glistening to coax him even further.

You whimper, “—The way you fuck me. Come take me, Ony.”

Onyankopon grunts at the sight.

Being drunk brought out a whole different side of you—but your husband was no better. It was the way he ate your pussy when intoxicated—his tongue wagged up against the soft flesh of your folds, the soppy arousal drenching his facial hair each time his full lips sucked your clit up into his mouth. He can’t help it—he’s dipping his tongue in between your opening and hole up top, your fingers tightening along his braids as you whimper in return. But you’re worse—you’re twisting your hips from side to side, riding his face to meet his tongue that sucks your clit from behind. Your ass is all in his face, but he loves it, spanking you with rumbles vibrating against your flesh. 

You always got what you were asking for, but you were needy regardless. You didn’t expect your back to arch any further than it was, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his fingers tightened within your curls, fucking you in a way you’d missed in months. Your ass bounces onto his creamy dick by the pull of his strength—your lips releasing giggles, squealing in between your moans as he takes you from behind. 

“This’ how you missed me, huh? Boucin’ back on my dick like a muhfuckin’ slut? Look at you.” 

You were so drowned in him, you were hardly paying attention to where you were. The marble was cold on the edge of the pool, and with the tiniest bit of sense you had, you whined, “It’ssogood, baby.” 

A low groan leaves his lips, the sound vibrating against your neck. 

“You loud. Finna’ wake up the whole neighborhood.” 

You’re too drunk to listen, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you place your arm behind your back, waiting for him to grab ahold of it. Your moans are long, whiney as you’re somehow still giggling, so elated from how good every stroke feels. His tip is becoming lost in your pussy, your intoxication making you wetter by the second. 

His hand wraps against your arm, your leg going further over the edge, your back in the perfect arch as you mewl. Your eyes roll as he snakes his other hand to the front of you, clutching your jaw to snap your face behind to look into his—That’s when you sling your hips back, fucking yourself on his dick, a hazy smile on your face, screwed with a mixture of pleasure. 

“Ony…” 

You’re squealing to him.

“You still miss a nigga, huh? My shit deep enough for you to remember?”

Onyankopon’s hand tightens along your neck, his fingers gripping the bottom of your chin to bring your face closer to his. You squirm at the change in angle.

One of your hands slides against the side of his head, fingers running across the length of his cornrows. Your lashes are heavy, fluttering as you plead, “It’s deep,” your voice hardly audible over the sounds of your skip clapping together. 

“Feel so full when you’re in me,” you whimper along his mouth.

Your voice was music to his ears. 

The wet flesh sends echoes against the marble, your moans loud in his ear. But everything you were giving him was worth the wait of you being pregnant. He’d taken care of you, babied you. And now, he fucked you like you were his again. 

He could be sweet, sensual—but he could also be a demon. You’re out of the pool now, close to the bed—but you couldn’t make it there on time. Your fingers clutched

along his shoulder as he carries you with no effort, legs held by his arms as he’s lifting you up, tip slapping the sensitivity of your puffy folds, dropping you down in seconds. A squelch comes in return from the curve of his dick reaching inside. 

“Ion’ wanna hear nothin’,” he grunts to you, “Just listen to us.” 

You knock your forehead against his, eyes watering as you tremble whimpers, cradling the nape of his neck in your fingers. Your mind is hazy.

His gaze pierces yours, your lips barely hovering above his as he grunts, “You hear that? That’s the sound of you leakin’ all on my shit. Just droolin’.” 

Your face screws into a pout as you whimper, “Ohmygod, baby. You’re so strong. Oh my goddd. Ughn. F—fuck,” your nails sink into his skin. 

“The fuck did I say, huh?”  

A swat comes to your face, and your eyes flutter, sinking your fingers between your lips as you hush the noises from your mouth. There’s tears in your eyes, thighs trembling as he continues to hold you in the air. Plop, plop, schluck. 

“That’s my good lil’ bitch. Open.” 

He spits in your mouth, gripping your neck tighter as he speaks.

“Tongue.” 

When you do, he spits again. 

“Goodbaby.”  

Your whimper is a high-pitched sound, your teeth nibbling against his bottom—but that’s when he releases you onto your feet—your legs instantly trembling, and he can tell you won’t be able to keep this up. 

“On that bed,” his voice is low. 

“Knees first.”

The moment you crawl onto the bed, you drop your face onto the sheets, back still arched, spreading your reddened pussy as you gently rotate your hips for him. 

“C’mon, Daddy.” 

The arrogance pours from his body as he slaps his tip against your folds, your hips jolting at the feeling. His dick is sliding in, sinking every gifted inch he has for you—It’s even deeper this time, a pinch coursing through your lower stomach the moment the back of your thighs clap with his abdomen, tearing away like Velcro each time. 

You’re mewling, “Damn, baby. I love you so much—why you fuckin’ me like this…”  

You’re babbling, asking nonsensical questions. You knew that.

He finds a grip in your curls, tugging you onto him. His eyes are low as he grunts, “I’m fuckin’ you like this ‘cause you want me to. Look at that pussy. Look at that shit. Pretty lil’ bitch I got.” 

Your eyes are watering heavily. You’re nearly silent for a while, just feeling everything he has to give you. Your body shakes, and you let out the deepest gasp, your exhale a low sob. 

“Keep goin’.” 

It came out a grunt, his voice cracking through the thickness of his Southern drawl. His words are nearly harsh—he craved you—but he meant it, “That’s so muhfuckin’ pretty, Mama. That cream you givin’ me. Yo’ cum is so pretty.” 

And he’s right—you’re cumming, the creamy release of your pussy painting his balls in your affection. Onyankopon’s fingers are tucked along the back of your neck, tattooed frame large above your smaller figure. 

You don’t mean for your mouth to unlatch a loud, “Ughn—Ooshit, baby…”

But it does. 

His body slaps against your round ass, “You been goin’ through it—You coulda’ just came and sat on this dick, Mama. Know you’ been thinkin’ about it. Know you been needin’ it.” 

Your fingers slip in between your lips, sucking lightly to muffle your sounds. You whimper, “Sorry, baby,” as you go back to dropping your hips down to meet his body. You imagine how that looks from behind—how your walls just suck him in, a whiney mess that you are, becoming needier by the second. 

“Uh-huh,” He groans, “Yeah—you been missing your nigga, huh?”

“Mhmm.”

That’s all you can manage to get out—your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, but you try your best to keep them open.

“Missed you so—muc—ugh—much, daddy.”

Seeing you this way was always rewarding. It was like all the senses in your brain went fuzzy, and you’re swirling your hips in a circle, throwing your ass back to meet his body. Fingers still tucked in between your mouth, you’re groaning. 

“See’—there you fuckin’ go. That’s my girl—“

His equal groan is deep and husky—loud, almost guttural.  It makes you shake, “You my good girl, ain’t you? You gon’ start acting right, huh?”

You had no thoughts within your mind.

“I’m your good girl,” you whimper, “See, baby—just wanted you,” your siren eyes peer behind your shoulder to watch your ass bounce. One of your arms reaches back—but Onyankopon’s already there again, snatching your wrist behind your back. 

“That’s all it was? You just wanted me?”

He leans his body down, pushing himself deeper into you. With your arms held, he’s got you locked—helpless.

Your face was red, eyes cloudy. You nod in answer, not trusting your own voice. 

Onyankopon’s hand releases the one held behind your back, his fingers wrapping around your throat from behind instead. His hips are going, heavy body throwing you onto his dick. 

His groan is a low hum, “Daddy’s here now, Mama. That’s all you needed.”

You can’t help the sound that comes from your lips—the whine that’s loud, a shaky breath being sucked into the air. His words, his affirmations to you—your eyes water again, and you give him a continuous nod as you watch your ass go up and down. Your feminine tone cries softly, body quivering as his words echo in your brain. 

He wants to mean every word he says. The way he grips your throat is a sign, the way he’s dropping you down, holding you in place.

Your sobs come out in low gasps,“Ohhh my god—“ 

You’re getting lightheaded.

“O—Oh—Oh, baby…” your brain’s getting foggy—no wonder you see dots.

You moan, “Oh, God. I love you so…much.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, “You mean that?” 

His body makes it hard for you to answer—and his words,  “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you, baby. You forgivin’ me, huh?” 

“Uh-huh,” You nod, “I forgive you. I’m so sorry,” you whine, “S’much, baby.”

You were being honest. Although, you weren’t sure what you were apologizing for. 

You can barely even see, mouth parting as you’re going to speak again, eyes rolling back. It’s silent. But that’s when your voice gets louder—even though it doesn’t seem possible, “Please forgive me, baby. Just needed you, Ony.” 

You give him a shaky nod, trying to focus on your breathing. He grips your throat harder, just the way you like, “I hear you, Mama. You hear me?” 

You gasp,  “Yes—Oohgod, baby.” 

“We ain’t finna’ have these problems no more?” 

“No—I love you—love you so much,” you sob again, body beginning to give. You’re shaking harder, you know you’re crying, but it only makes him go faster, a loud groan coming from his lips.

“That’s how you feelin’?”

“Uh-huhhhh,” you moan, lips quivering, “I forgive you—I always forgive you, Ony.”

Your nails dig at his skin, the sounds you’re making being loud enough to wake the dead. You moan, “I’d never—ooh—doubt you, I was jus—just—“ 

Your brain gives up—you can’t make sentences.

Maybe you shouldn’t have been so sorry. You now have to prove your own words, curls hanging above your face as you’re exhausted from now being on top—Onyankopon’s large hands unfortunately have you trapped, your whimpers seeping through the walls as he’s constantly bouncing you down against his lap. This is the sight you’d been looking for—that glare, that growl from his lips, your smaller frame being swallowed by his—even if you were above him. Your thighs burned, your hips ached. 

His hand lifts your body by your throat.

“You know how I feel?”

His hips thrust upward, “I gotta be here for you a lil’ more,” His deep groan makes your legs jolt, “That’s on me, aight? Imma’ make up fo’ that, I promise.” 

His tone goes dark. 

"I love you, Mama," He grunts, "And my kids—I haven’t been a good husband, have I?”

You shake your head, finding your own rhythm within your hips as you rotate above him, “It’s okay, baby—“ you breath hitches, “Such a good h—husband, Ony…” 

His hand around your neck loosens—his thumb rubs against the pulse beneath your jaw, “You promise?” 

His lips suck on your bottom lip, his hips moving against yours now—slowing.

You nod. Onyankopon’s other hand cups beneath your thigh, guiding your body—up and down, your head lolls to the side, curls draping along your hand as your eyes roll, “Baby, I c—can’t…” 

“Yeah?” He grunts, “You can’t—lemme’ hold you then. C’mere.” 

His kiss is soft—he’s tasting you, groaning through a snarl of his lip, “Uh—uh-huh—“ His hips aren’t slowing, “I feel you, mama.”

You’re crying softly as you hold onto him,

“O—Ony…”

“I’m a good husband, ain’t I? Talk to me.” 

He’s begging, his voice deep, “Please don’t be mad at me, baby. I’m already mad at myself because I’m not there for you no’ more.”

This bastard was evil. 

The tears in your eyes aren’t helping your case, your arms wrapping around his neck as you shakily sob out in return, cumming again, holding onto him for dear life as you cry, “Not m—mad at you, Daddy…” 

His tongue slides down to your neck, sucking on the skin, leaving bruises. 

With the sudden touch of cold metal against your thigh, your body shivers, mind entirely fuzzy at this point. 

“That’s yo’ niggas ring,” He hushes you with a light grunt, his hips going—”You feel it, mama? You feel it on me?”

“I feel all of you,” you moan, hands scratching his back, “And I love you so much, baby—feel you so deep—oh god—don’t—stop, baby.”

His tongue swirls on your throat, and it makes your head fuzzy, “I’m sorry, baby.”

“I hear you, baby,” you whimper in his own words he spoke earlier, “It don’t matt—oh, matter, anymore, baby. I’m yours, Ony.” 

Your back arches—but he’s still holding your throat. Onyankopon grins at the sight, his head leaned into your neck—grunting and groaning while his large hands help you move. Faster.

“I’ll always be there fo’ my kids—But, you my baby—I’ll never leave you when you need me. And you gon’ need Daddy, huh? Just like now.” 

You press your forehead against his, digging your teeth within your lip as your eyes roll—your mouth parts as you shudderingly moan, “Yeah, Daddy. Okay.”

You’re gasping, eyes watering, hips burning. Your entire body trembles as oceans of pleasure crash in violent waves, the mixture of a groan and scream dropping from your lips, panting as you try to control your sounds. You’re squirting. 

His eyes are glaring, tone deep, “Who you gon’ get on the phone and cry to, huh? Who gon’ treat you the way I do? Fuck yo’ ass the way I do? Who gon’ catch all these tears like me?” 

You’re fully sobbing, “Fuuuck, Ony.”

He grunts at your sounds, “Just like that—“ His hand presses on your waist, “Go ‘head baby. You know I’m right behind you.” 

Your body gives for a third time. Onyankopon’s tongue rushes against yours, the warmth of his cum filling you as his large palm cradles you into his body. You don’t know when your eyes closed, or when you stopped breathing. Your vision is a blur when you’re able to see again. 

“Mama—you aight?” 

You give the smallest nod. Your face is flushed, your mind a bit fuzzy as you whimper, “Got too drunk, baby. My head hurts.”

Onyankopon chuckles, the sound low as he’s leaning against the pillows, your smaller figure sinking into his chest.

“Lemme’ get you a warm towel—“

“Nuh-uh,” you mumble, “I’m fine. You stay here.”  

His hand is slow as his palm smoothes along the small of your back, his lips pressing against your cheek, “I told you I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” 

A comforting silence fills the room for a couple of minutes, your body nearly passed out against his. That’s when you feel your husband shift a bit beneath you as he murmurs, “Baby…I wanted to give you sum’ before the end of the night.”

You hum softly, eyes still closed. 

“Can I guess what it is?”

His laugh is low, his hand gently stroking the skin of your lower back. 

”You get one guess,” He murmurs, his other hand finding a grip in your hair.

“A Unicorn,” you softly gasp, eyes still closed as you hum, “Yup. It’s my very own unicorn.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Onyankopon chuckles as he says, “You was’ close, but nah— I know you’ been talkin’ bout how you wanna renew our vows.”

Your head peeks up. 

“And?”

“And—I figured, yo’ nigga can’t re-marry yo’ ass without some new rings.”

He leans over the bed, pulling two small boxes from his pants. It’s brighter than the jewelry within his mouth—a heart shaped diamond crystals within your eyes, the ring larger than the rock you already carried on your finger. 

You gasp, “Ony—are you serious?” 

“Dead serious. I got that lil’ venue you wanted in Rome, too. I’m ready for another lifetime with you,” His fingers find your chin, “You ready for another lifetime with me?”

“You did this all for me?” 

“I’d do anythin’ for you, girl. You my best friend,” He grins, “Can you promise me one thing, though?”

A sigh escapes his lips—you leap into his embrace, hugging him tightly, “That I’ll give you like a million more babies?” 

Onyankopon chuckles at your reaction, his large arm hugging around your frame as he answers, “Nah. Promise you ain’t never gon’ doubt me again. A nigga love you forreal’.” 

Your heart is warm. Your hands graze along his facial hair, looking over the face of the man that truly loved you like no one else would. 

You sigh, “I love you too, Ony. You got a hair tie?”

“Yeah,” he raises an eyebrow, “Whatchu’ need one for?” 

He’s shifting across the bed, digging into an open drawer of the bedside dresser.

“Cause I’m finna’ suck the skin off that di—“

“Girl,” he chuckles, “Lawd. You ain’t tired?

“I’ll never be tired of you. Say you feel the same—and that you love me!”

He chuckles, “I do. Quit playin’.”

And you knew that, because he did.

[chiarrara]

ran out of tags. a lot on my mind.

jjk american au -

yuuji would be puerto rican on his mom's side, 1/4 black on his dad's side from his grandpa. not much connection to his boricua heritage but still proud of it and wanting to reconnect and claim it by the time he's a teenager. his name would be a combination of his parents names: Kari + Eugene = Jikari. but after his mom left and his dad died, his grandpa raised him and just called him Euji after his dad. He got the nickname Ji/G in middle school, and a lot of times his friends would call out to him "Yooo, G!!" as a running bit. He's from KC, grew up east of troost.

nobara would be from one of the tiny ass towns in rural Oklahoma Northeast of Tulsa and Muskogee. She's Cherokee through her mom and grandma's side, and has tribal citizenship. her dad's white, but she doesn't know anything else about him and he has never been in her life. Her mom named her Briar Rose after sleeping beauty, but she only goes by Rose because she thinks it's a stupid name. Her grandma has some cultural knowledge that she tried to pass down to her daughter, and then to Nobara who took to it a little better.

megumi would grow up in the southside suburbs of chicago. he's second generation white hispanic on his dad's side and ??? on his mom's. his name would be natalia. toji's family is mostly still in mexico where they are truly filty rich. tsumiki is half-filipino on her mom's side. her name would be... idk probably jasmine or something. megumi grew up truly bilingual as his dad speaks primarily Spanish, but even without him around, the people in his building spoke either spanish or english, so he grew up speaking a mix. tsumiki struggles more with spanish because she didn't grow up with it from a young age.

they'd all end up at the same specialty school in chicago proper. nobara wanted to leave and move to a city so applied, yuuji got recruited, and megumi was in a development program since elementary school.

[leriexoxo]

Pretty Boy, Asshole 2

Husband! Leeknow x Reader (arranged marriage au)

Tags: Arranged marriage AU, Strangers to Lovers, Slowburn, Enemies(ish) to Lovers, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Domestic Feels, Emotional whiplash. Mean Minho, Language.

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: But the thing about sharing a house with a man like Minho? Hate starts to unravel. Fights get personal. Distance gets intimate. And soon, the walls between you start crumbling one argument, one sleepless night, one accidental kiss at a time. You didn’t ask for this marriage. But now that you’re in it, you’ll be damned if you let him walk away before knowing exactly what he’d almost thrown away.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

prev

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

The phone rang.

Minho answered it quickly, stepping into the hallway.

“Yeah?”

“Boss, it’s me,” his assistant said on the other end. “Everything’s confirmed for tonight. Do you still want the rooftop? The chef just needs a final headcount.”

Minho rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes flicking back to the closed bathroom door behind him.

“…Just two,” he murmured.

“You got it. Wine pairing?”

He hesitated. “No wine. Just tea. She prefers tea.”

The assistant hummed. “Noted. I’ll text you the room code and timeline. You should be there by seven.”

Minho hung up with a soft “thanks,” and stood there for a long second.

What the hell was he doing?

He didn’t even know what this was.

Not exactly.

Only that something had changed. In the car. In the bathroom. In the silence that followed. The way her eyes softened, even while her mouth held stubborn fire.

He wanted to get this right. For once.

—

You were already trying to put the morning behind you, curled up on the couch in a robe, scrolling half-heartedly through a book you weren’t even reading. There was something in your chest today—something new. Something almost… unsteady.

And then Minho appeared in the doorway.

Wearing a black button-up and slacks. His sleeves rolled up just enough to expose his forearms. His hair styled but still soft around the edges. Eyes on you.

“I need you to get dressed,” he said plainly.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He stepped closer, hands in his pockets. “I want to take you out. Dinner.”

Your heart stuttered. “Is that an apology?”

“It’s a… start.”

You looked him over, unsure if this was a joke. “Do I get a dress code?”

He smirked slightly. “Wear something you’d want to be stared at in.”

And then he left.

Just like that.

You stood there for a long moment, brain short-circuiting.

Because this wasn’t the Minho who slammed doors.

This wasn’t the man who flinched when you got too close.

This was someone else.

Someone trying.

And you didn’t know how to feel about it.

—

The rooftop was glowing.

You blinked when he guided you out of the elevator, hand resting lightly at your lower back. The sun was just beginning to set—casting golden light across a candlelit table set for two, with soft music humming from somewhere invisible. The chef bowed once in greeting before disappearing inside.

Your breath caught.

There were flower petals on the ground.

Steam rising from a white porcelain teapot at the center of the table.

And the view? Endless city, kissed with orange and gold.

“…Minho,” you whispered. “What is all this?”

He looked straight ahead. “You’ve done nothing but compromise since this marriage began. This is just me… catching up.”

You stared at him, stunned silent.

He pulled the chair out for you.

You sat automatically, watching as he took the seat across from you, reaching forward to pour your tea first before his own. His hands were steady. Eyes unreadable.

The food was beautiful—small portions of rich flavor, carefully selected. The tea, your favorite blend. Every single detail chosen with care.

“You remembered I like jasmine tea?” you said softly.

He nodded, not looking up. “I notice more than you think.”

Something twisted in your stomach. You were so used to the fights, the coldness, the passive-aggressive silence. You didn’t know what to do with this version of him—this thoughtful, almost-gentle Minho.

“This doesn’t mean we’re suddenly in love,” you said quickly, trying to protect your heart.

He finally looked up.

“I know,” he said, voice steady. “But it means I want to try.”

And something in you cracked.

He didn’t reach for your hand. Didn’t make a move. But the way he was looking at you? Like he was finally seeing you, not just the obligation—you weren’t ready for it.

But god, you wanted more of it.

The dinner passed in a daze. Laughter slipped out where you didn’t expect it. Your feet bumped beneath the table and neither of you moved away. When dessert came, it was the kind of sweet you’d once mentioned liking in passing—and he’d remembered.

And by the time you returned home… the silence between you wasn’t awkward anymore.

It was something else entirely.

He paused in the doorway to his room.

You lingered in the hall.

And for a moment, neither of you moved.

“…Goodnight,” he said finally, voice low.

You nodded. “Goodnight.”

He waited a beat longer. Like he wanted to say something else.

Then shut the door softly behind him.

And you?

You stood there in the dark, heartbeat wild.

Because for the first time…

You didn’t want the night to end.

—

You couldn’t sleep.

Maybe it was the tea. Maybe it was the soft music still echoing in your head.

Maybe it was the way Minho looked at you all through dinner—like you were something to be remembered, not endured.

Your body was humming. Stretched tight like a bowstring.

Restless.

So you slid out of bed and padded into the hall, bare feet brushing cool wood floors.

The baby doll you wore was one of the few things you had brought from your old life—a silly little purchase from a night of wine and impulse. You’d worn it tonight just to feel soft again, for no one but yourself.

It was sheer, barely-there. Lacy. Dangerous.

You didn’t expect to run into your husband.

But of course—of course—you did.

He was already in the kitchen, leaning over the sink with a glass of water in his hand, head tilted down, neck on full display.

Shirtless.

Sweatpants.

Hung so low on his hips you genuinely forgot how to walk for a moment.

He didn’t hear you at first, but when the fridge door creaked open—he turned.

And everything in the air shifted.

He stared.

You froze.

The glass in his hand tightened ever so slightly. His jaw ticked.

His gaze dragged down your body, slow, shameless, and seething.

“What the fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

You blinked. “What?”

Minho took a step closer. One. Measured. Step

“That,” he said, eyes burning, “is what you wear to sleep?”

You straightened, suddenly on edge. “It’s mine. I can wear whatever I want.”

“Are you expecting someone in your bed tonight?”

You scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“Because if you’re not,” he said, stepping closer again, “that’s even worse.”

Your heart was pounding. Your hands were cold but your skin was flushed. “Why would it be worse?”

He stopped just in front of you now—dangerously close.

“Because if there’s no one there to see it, then why the hell isn’t it me?”

The words cracked through the silence like a whip.

Your mouth parted but no sound came out.

Minho was breathing hard, his eyes flicking from your mouth to your thighs, rage and desire locked in a vice.

“You walked out of that room,” he continued, voice low, “looking like this—like a goddamn fantasy—and you didn’t think I’d lose my mind?”

You swallowed.

“It’s just sleepwear,” you whispered.

“Not to me.”

There was nothing but breathing now. The soft hum of the fridge. The near-silent war erupting between you.

And still—you didn’t move.

Neither did he.

Minho reached past you suddenly, slow but sharp, and grabbed the water bottle from the counter behind. His hand brushed your hip. Bare skin on bare skin.

You flinched. He didn’t.

Instead, he leaned down, whispered in your ear.

“That thing you’re wearing?” His voice dripped molten heat. “Take it off before I do.”

And then he walked past you, brushing so close you could feel the heat radiating from his skin.

You turned slowly, heart in your throat, breath caught, heat pooling between your legs.

Because for the first time…

Minho didn’t just look at you like a wife.

He looked at you like he wanted you.

Really wanted you.

And you didn’t know how long you stood there after—but sleep never came.

—

You came back from your spa day practically boneless—hours of oils, massages, and hot towels had washed the whole week off your skin.

You stepped inside the house humming, keys jangling, the familiar scent of your perfume still lingering in the air. Something was different, though. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it at first. Maybe it was just the calm…

Then you walked into your bedroom.

Correction: your former bedroom.

Because the room was empty.

As in completely empty.

No bed. No dresser. No pillows.

Not even the sad little candle on the window sill you forgot to blow out the last time you stormed out.

“What the hell—” you whispered, spinning around in confusion.

Your bags were gone. The cozy hoodie you’d tossed over the desk chair was missing. The room was hollow, like you’d never even lived there.

And then you heard it.

A glass clink. A soft exhale. The faint sound of ice swirling in something strong.

You stalked toward the living room, your plush spa slippers slapping the floor with murderous intent.

There he was.

Minho. Lounged across the couch like it was his personal throne. Glass in one hand, half-buttoned silk shirt in the other, looking annoyingly content.

He didn’t even look up at first. Just took a sip.

“Oh hey,” he said smoothly. “You’re back.”

You blinked.

“Where’s my room?”

He raised a brow. “Gone.”

Your jaw dropped. “Gone?”

He finally turned toward you, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “I moved you into the master. Wifey.”

You just stared at him.

He said it so casually—like he hadn’t just erased your entire goddamn living arrangement.

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“I—What—You can’t just—”

“I did.”

“Why?”

Minho stood, walking toward you with his drink, slow and unbothered. He stopped just in front of you, tilted his head slightly, and murmured:

“You’re my wife. You should be in my bed.”

Your mouth snapped shut.

Your brain rebooted.

Your knees wobbled slightly.

He was still looking at you like this wasn’t even a discussion.

“Unless…” he added softly, brushing a lock of hair from your face, “you’re planning to move out entirely?”

You scowled.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Good. Then it’s settled.”

And before you could say another goddamn word, Minho turned, finished his drink in one smooth gulp, and walked away—toward the master bedroom.

Where your things now lived.

Where he lived.

Where you would apparently sleep now.

Together. Every night.

And all you could do was stand there.

Stunned. Confused.

A little turned on.

Okay, Maybe more than a little.

—

The room was dim, lit only by the faint city glow filtering through sheer curtains.

You stood there for longer than necessary, staring at the perfectly made bed—his bed. Your bed, now.

Minho was already under the covers, one arm tucked behind his head, the other lazily scrolling through his phone like this was any other night. Like your entire world hadn’t just been moved, rearranged, commandeered.

You padded over to the opposite side and slipped under the sheets, trying not to let them rustle. You kept your back to him, careful not to even graze his side. The silence was heavy. Not tense—just loud.

You exhaled softly, trying to relax.

It was fine. You were adults. You could sleep beside each other. He hadn’t made any advances. Maybe he just wanted to play house to appease the parents or the board or the whole damn world.

You closed your eyes.

Thirty seconds passed.

Then sixty.

Then—you felt it.

A shift.

The sheets tugged slightly.

Minho moved behind you, inching closer.

You froze.

Another moment of stillness. Then—

A hand. His hand. Curling around your waist.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You weren’t touching before. You definitely were now.

His body was warm, bare-chested against your back, and his grip wasn’t firm, but it wasn’t tentative either. It was intentional.

“Minho,” you whispered, barely able to get the name out.

“Hm?”

Your heart thudded.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping,” he murmured.

“Like that?”

He let out a slow, amused breath, the sound ghosting across your neck. “You’re my wife. I thought I should start acting like it.”

Your fingers gripped the sheet. “By spooning me?”

Another small chuckle, deeper this time. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

You could feel him now—all of him. His warmth pressing into you. The way his thumb had started to trace a small, infuriating circle just below your ribs.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of his jaw in the dark.

“Minho,” you said again, more breath than sound.

“What?” he whispered, voice husky and tired and devastatingly close.

“You’re touching me.”

His lips were so close to your ear now. “I know.”

You didn’t move.

You couldn’t.

Because somehow, without even trying, he’d pulled you into a moment neither of you could take back.

Your breath hitched when he exhaled slow and low against your skin.

“Go to sleep,” he murmured, like a tease. “Or don’t.”

And he didn’t move his hand. He didn’t even loosen his hold.

He just stayed wrapped around you like he belonged there.

And maybe, just maybe, for the first time since this whole thing started—

You didn’t hate how it felt.

—

The morning after your first night sharing a bed was quiet. Almost suspiciously so.

Minho had slipped out early, but not without a glance back—one you didn’t see, but would’ve felt if you’d been half-awake. You stirred a little when the blankets shifted, only to realize with sleepy confusion that his warmth had been there all night. Still ghosted along your back. Still lingering on your skin.

When you finally got up, there was coffee waiting on the counter.

No note. No text.

But there was coffee.

It became a rhythm after that.

Shared space. Shared silences.

Shared bed.

You never talked about it. He just… reached for you now. Without hesitation. Every night. Arm around your waist, your back to his chest, your breath syncing with his. Sometimes you felt his hand drift up to settle under your ribs. Sometimes it stayed firmly at your waist. But he never crossed the line. Never demanded more.

Not with words, anyway.

Days passed. Tension softened into comfort. Walls began to crack. Just a little.

But that night—that night—

Something changed.

You had both just turned in. The city’s glow lit the room again, and Minho’s arm, like usual, found its place around you. You exhaled, feeling yourself fall into that familiar lull, that strange cocoon of heat and muscle and unsaid things—

But then, without thinking, without planning it—

You turned.

In his arms.

Slowly. Intentionally. Until you were face-to-face, your hand resting on his chest, your knees brushing his.

Minho froze.

His eyes locked on yours like he was trying to decipher what the hell you were doing—but more than that, why you were doing it.

The air pulsed with something new. Something electric.

You looked at him, voice barely above a whisper.

“Why are you doing this?”

His brows drew together, ever so slightly. “Doing what?”

“This.” You nodded to the space—what little was left—between you. “The holding. The moving in. The everything.”

He didn’t answer right away.

Just stared at you.

Or more specifically… your mouth.

You noticed the exact second his resolve wavered.

“Minho,” you said again, softly. “Tell me.”

And just like that, he lost whatever quiet battle he was fighting in his head.

He cupped your face gently, thumb brushing your cheek.

And then— He kissed you.

Not like that night at the bar. Not angry, not territorial.

This time it was slow. Careful. Warm.

So soft it hurt.

And you kissed him back.

Mouths moving like they’d been waiting to. Like they’d been practicing in their dreams.

Your hand found the side of his neck, pulling him closer. His fingers curled around your waist again, only this time there was no more space to close. None at all.

The kiss deepened.

Still gentle, but longer now. More open. More honest.

Breathless pauses. Whispered exhales. The soft rustle of sheets as your bodies pulled together, instinctively.

You didn’t speak again.

Didn’t have to.

Because for the first time since all this chaos began, you both understood one thing—

This was real.

And you weren’t running from it anymore.

His lips were still on yours. Still soft, still slow.

But something shifted.

Somewhere between the way your fingers curled tighter around the back of his neck and the way he exhaled through his nose—like he was starving for this, for you—the tenderness began to burn.

Minho kissed you deeper.

Hungrier.

Your breath hitched as his hand slid from your waist to your back, pressing you flush against him. There was no more hesitation. No more space. Just months of tension unraveling between your mouths, in the shaky sound you made when his tongue swept over yours, in the grip of his hand as it traced the curve of your spine.

He groaned softly into the kiss. “Fuck…”

It was like something in him finally broke loose.

You gasped when he rolled you beneath him, not forceful but urgent, his body settling between your legs as his lips never left yours. His hand found your jaw, tilting your face to deepen the kiss even more, his thumb brushing your cheekbone so delicately it made you ache.

Your hands moved without thought—up his bare arms, over his shoulders, into his hair. You’d never felt him like this. Not in pieces. Not in stolen glances or lingering touches. This was all of him.

All heat and desperation.

He kissed down your jaw, your neck, nipping the skin there until you whimpered.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, lips hot against your collarbone, his voice shaking.

You didn’t. You didn’t even hesitate.

Instead, you reached for the hem of your sleep shirt and tugged it up and off.

Minho stilled.

His eyes darkened as they swept over your bare chest, chest rising and falling faster now.

“Shit,” he breathed, like he was already undone.

And then he was on you again, kissing everywhere—lips on your collarbone, your breasts, your stomach, everywhere his hands had imagined but never dared to touch until now. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t chaotic. It was worship.

Every brush of his mouth was laced with intent.

Every groan was a confession.

He whispered your name like it was something holy.

You tugged at his shirt until he finally sat up just enough to pull it over his head, and God—Minho. The way his body looked in the moonlight, toned and golden and yours. You traced your fingers over the line of his abs and he hissed, grabbing your wrist gently.

“You’ll drive me insane.”

“You already are,” you whispered.

He laughed—breathless and stunned—but it faded fast as he leaned back in to kiss you again. This time it was slower. Deeper. His hand slid between your legs, and when he found how wet you were, he cursed under his breath.

“You want this,” he said, eyes locked with yours. “You want me.”

You nodded. That was all it took.

He kissed you again, hard this time, and soon, his sweatpants were gone, and your panties followed. Every nerve was raw. Every inch of you trembling, burning, needing.

He settled above you again, chest to chest, foreheads nearly touching as he lined himself up.

He paused.

One hand cradled your jaw. The other curled around your hip.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

You did.

He pushed in slowly.

You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders, and his head dropped to your neck with a shudder.

“Fuck—baby—” he moaned, voice cracking. “You feel like—God.”

He moved with care at first, deep and slow, every thrust deliberate, like he was memorizing the way you wrapped around him. You held on like he was anchoring you—like you might float away without his weight on you.

Your name left his lips again and again, low and reverent, while you whispered his in return between breathless moans.

It was messy and perfect.

A long-awaited breaking point.

And when he finally came, it was with his mouth on yours, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

Like he finally understood.

And maybe you did too.

—

The scent of eggs and butter hung warm in the air.

Sunlight spilled softly through the kitchen windows, casting sleepy gold over the countertops and floor. You stood at the stove, barefoot, wearing nothing but his oversized black T-shirt—your thighs peeking out with every shift of your hips as you stirred the pan.

It was early, earlier than you ever woke up, but after last night… you needed to move. To process. You needed space to feel what happened between you and Minho in that bed, on those sheets—space to understand why it changed something so deep, so permanent, you were scared to even breathe wrong in case the dream slipped away.

But it wasn’t a dream.

It was real.

He was real.

And unbeknownst to you, he was standing right behind you—leaned against the wall shirtless, loose gray sweats hanging from his hips, his dark eyes locked on your figure.

You, in his shirt.

You, in his kitchen.

You, cooking breakfast like you belonged here.

It short-circuited something in him.

Minho didn’t move at first. He just watched, the tight coil in his chest winding tighter with every second. But then your hips swayed slightly, humming to yourself under your breath—and he was gone.

Possessed.

In a flash, he crossed the room and wrapped an arm around your waist from behind, pressing his chest against your back. You gasped, startled.

“Minho—!” you laughed, elbowing his ribs gently. “You scared me.”

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t say anything.

Instead, he reached forward silently and turned off the stove. You blinked in confusion—until you felt it.

Him.

Thick and hard, already pressing into your ass through his sweats. You shivered.

“Last night…” his voice was rough, low, lips grazing your ear, “was slow. Sweet.”

He pulled your hips firmly back into him. You inhaled sharply.

“This won’t be.”

He pushed your hair aside and kissed the curve of your neck, wet and open-mouthed, and your knees buckled. His grip tightened.

“No running now, baby,” he growled. “You woke this up—now you take it.”

You exhaled shakily, head lolling back against his shoulder. “Minho…”

He kissed down your shoulder, then knelt suddenly, dragging your panties—his shirt riding up your thighs—to your ankles.

And then his hands parted your legs from behind, mouth hot and dangerous against the back of your thigh.

“Oh my—” you gasped, fingers clutching the counter.

You barely had time to register what was happening before he leaned you forward, cheek pressed to the cool marble, and dove between your thighs—tongue licking a long, slow stripe up your soaked slit.

You screamed.

Minho groaned.

“Fuck—you taste like everything I’ve ever wanted.”

He gripped your hips and buried his face in you, eating you like a man starved. His tongue flicked and curled, lips suctioning over your clit, and when you started trembling, he moaned—loudly—grinding his hips against your leg like he couldn’t take it either.

“Oh my God—Minho—” you sobbed, legs shaking.

He growled, arms wrapping around your thighs to steady you as he devoured you harder, wetter, like he couldn’t breathe without it. You came so fast and so hard, you nearly collapsed, but he caught you—his mouth glistening, eyes wild.

Before you could recover, he stood, grabbed your waist, and slammed into you from behind with a single, brutal thrust.

You wailed.

“Yeah,” he hissed, “that’s my good fucking girl.”

The stretch, the pressure, the way his hands gripped your hips—it was everything. He pounded into you over the stove, sweat dripping from his temple, teeth gritted, his pace merciless and unrelenting.

You couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t even think.

The only sounds were the slap of skin, your cries, and his growled praises—so tight, so fucking good, my wife, mine.

Your legs gave out around the second orgasm—he caught you again, wrapped an arm around your waist, and pulled you upright into his chest as he continued fucking up into you with ruthless precision.

“Minho—!” you sobbed, tears leaking down your cheeks.

He kissed your temple and whispered, “I know, baby. I know.”

He chased your release with everything in him, and when he came, it was with a strangled moan of your name, spilling inside you and holding you tight like you were something he couldn’t believe was real.

You didn’t finish breakfast.

You didn’t leave the kitchen.

And when he carried you to bed afterwards, you knew—whatever this was, it wasn’t fake anymore.

—

The bedroom was still dim when you woke again.

Your cheek was pressed against a warm chest, a steady heartbeat beneath your ear. Minho’s arm was draped over your waist, holding you close like he hadn’t let go once during the night—and judging by the way your legs were tangled together, he hadn’t.

For a while, neither of you said anything.

There was no need.

The silence was calm now. Peaceful. The kind of quiet that only came after storms, when everything inside had been screamed out, cried out, touched and loved into stillness.

You let your hand trace slow patterns on his skin. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t tense like he used to. In fact, he tugged you even closer, nuzzling into your hair with a groggy little hum.

“You didn’t run,” he whispered.

You smiled against his chest. “You didn’t push me away.”

That made him pause.

And then, softly: “I never wanted to.”

You tilted your head to look at him. He looked tired, but in the best way—raw and open and stripped of the hard walls he once wore like armor. His fingers were still tracing lazy lines up and down your back. The morning light kissed his face gently, and you realized it all at once.

This was your husband.

Not just the man your parents married you off to. Not just the cold stranger who once hated your presence in his home.

This was your husband.

He saw the thought in your eyes. His own softened.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Minho said, voice hoarse.

You reached up and touched his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

“I’m not,” you whispered. “Because now it’s real. Every single piece of it.”

He leaned forward and kissed you—sweetly, slowly. No hunger this time. No urgency.

Just warmth.

And something so terrifyingly close to love, you felt it all the way in your bones.

Later, you stayed curled in bed together, ordering breakfast in and eating it right off the tray, half-naked and laughing at the mess you made of the sheets and yourselves.

He kissed your shoulder mid-bite.

You wiped syrup from his lip with a giggle.

And when he finally pulled you into his lap with a content sigh, burying his face in your neck like he never wanted to be anywhere else again—you knew.

You were exactly where you were meant to be.

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

Authors note: Final part is up!!!! Ahhhhhhhh ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ so so so i’m gonna start a whole ass taglist, if you want out just let me know yeah?

Please like, comment, reblog! I look out for those, and thanks for following, we’re almost at 700!!!

Taglist: @tsunderelino @innieandsungielover @inlovewithstraykids @reignessance @jeonismm @sttnficrecs @herejusttemporary @krssliu @sagestarlight @kenia4 @miilquetoast @thackery-blinks @leeminho-hall @suga-is-bae @butterflydemons @inejghafawifesblog @malunar28replies @minchanlimbo @mal-lunar-28 @breakmeofftbr

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Collision 20/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : last chapter so pure fluff

Serie Masterlist

CHAPTER 20 : SMAU

BeReal: @landonorris

Shared to: Close Friends Only

Cohabitation update: she brought the cat, the ribbon collection & half a ballet studio. I brought… enthusiasm.

🗯️ Replies (Close Friends Only):

Carlos 

MONACO???

YOU MOVED IN WITH HER??

WE BLINKED AND YOU’RE A HUSBAND.

Charles

I KNEW IT

also tell Ari we expect invites now

Pietra 

I am ACTUALLY CRYING

this is the final boss of the soft boy arc

Max Fewtrell 

“I brought enthusiasm” 💀 bro what happened to you

used to be scared of cats

now you’re living with one and two silk robes probably

Pierre

this man went from “no labels” to “we live together and share ribbon storage” real quick

Max Verstappen

ARIA HAS A BALCONY NOW !

I’M COMING TO VISIT FOR THE CAT

will she let me hold her yet??? I’ve been manifesting this.

Oscar

can you confirm if this also means you now own throw pillows and scented candles?

George

this is the most emotionally evolved I’ve ever seen you 🥹

Kika

i’m actually sobbing. soft girls win again

Rebecca 

also Ari look GLOWY??? is that love or monaco sun, or both???

Alexandra

this is my roman empire

Group Chat: Grid Gossip 🏁

Carlos

so… just to clarify

@Lando did you actually move in with the ballerina and her cat?? 🧐

George

Really enjoying this transformation from “I don’t do feelings” to

“I now live with an emotionally intelligent woman and her suspicious cat”

✨Brilliant arc✨

Oscar

He used to flinch when he heard me say “relationship.”

Now she owns 90% of his apartment

Lando

you’re all SO dramatic

it’s just a flat

calm down

Charles

oh okay

a flat you moved into with your girlfriend

with a cat you used to fear but now call “baby”

Lando

I DID THAT ONCE 🙄

George

And we’ll never forget. 😌

Pierre

How many ribbons is she up to now?

Do you guys have a color-coded emotion chart on the fridge?

Lando

...maybe.

Max Verstappen

okay but more importantly

how is Aria doing???

is she adjusting?

is she happy?

does she need anything??? 😟

Carlos

mate. focus.

Max Verstappen

I AM.

ON THE CAT.

Lando

i hate all of you

deeply and emotionally

George

mate, you’re halfway to adopting a second cat

don’t threaten us with feelings

Charles

congrats tho 🫶

happy for you both

also pls invite us for dinner

Lando

🙄 fine

next weekend. pasta night. bring wine.

Group Chat: Fan club of Ariana

Created by Charles Leclerc

9:12 AM | the morning after dinner

Charles

good morning to everyone except Lando and his fairy-tale domestic life

Carlos

did anyone else feel like they stayed in a boutique spa ?

Oscar

his soap smells like jasmine and stability

I didn’t know that was possible

Pierre

the real question is

why do I feel safer at THEIR place than in my own apartment 🫠

Carlos

and WHY did i walk into the kitchen and find Lando

making espresso

shirtless

with one hand on Ariana’s waist

like a bloody Chanel ad

Charles

he even kissed her temple while she stirred oatmeal

i almost screamed 😩

Max Verstappen

you guys have you saw Aria let me pet her ?

that’s real

that’s progress 🐈✨

Oscar

I don’t think the convo was about the cat, Max

Max Verstappen

Not my fault they have very similar name, I thought it was a group chat about the cat

George

Did you really think we were talking about Lando and the cat all this time ??

Max Verstappen

What could we possibly talk about then ? 🤨

Carlos

The fact Lando have a girlfriend mate

Lando

…can I help you??

What’s the group chat name about ? 😒

George

yeah

explain why your fridge has oat milk, elderflower, and no longer Red Bull

WHO ARE YOU 💀

Lando

we have taste. leave me alone.

Pierre

you said “we.” 😭

WE.

Carlos

so when’s the engagement then? 💍👀

Lando

go home

Pierre

mate

you’re in too deep

it’s been HOW MANY months??

Carlos

someone tell this man the honeymoon phase does end

you don’t have to act like she just invented the sun every time she smiles

George

he’s got “day 3 of knowing her” energy

but it’s been half a year

Oscar

smiling at each other across ravioli doesn’t count as a personality

Lando

okay, yes

but this morning she said “I feel like the sea when I’m near you”

what was I supposed to do??? NOT CRY?? 😭😭

Carlos

she said “I feel like the sea” ??

I’m gonna throw a fork at something

George

my grandma didn’t even speak to my grandad like this and they were married for 47 years 💀

Charles

he’s living in a sonnet

meanwhile i just reheated pasta and got judged by my dog

Lando

slander aside

we’re happy

she’s happy

and I love her

deal with it 😌🫶

Max Verstappen

good for you

but real question is Aria more tuna or salmon for treats ??

i actually need answers I’m in the store rn

Charles

mate stop obsessing over the cat 😭

Max Verstappen

BUT I LOVE CATS

Lando

it’s kinda weird you’re more into a cat than my overly really great love life

but yeah salmon, Aria has standards 🐱

Max Verstappen

great I buy 10

also I’m starting a new group chat about the cat asap

George

the real relationship in question here is max and the cat tbh 💅

This is it, it's the last chapter of this very long and very important series for me. I enjoyed so much writting this story and interacting with everyone of you who commented, liked or reposted this, so thank you so much for your support!

I have maybe an idea for a bonus chapter...so the storie is not completly finish ;)

Until then my request are still open for future stories :)

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1, @adynorris, @curlylando, @rebelliousneferut

Let me know if you want to be add to the taglist !

[inafieldofdaisies]

It's What's Inside (2024) | VHS Covers | template

[partygrls]

doesn't respond, instead allows the comment to brew, leaving a bitter taste cemented on his tongue. her traumas were justified, but he despised being the reason for it — not when he always promised himself to be a safe space for her and failed. jaw slacks uncomfortably at the thought of stranger, anger still seething through his entire body as he attempts to come down from pulsating high. knuckles are throbbing and his head is dizzy with an intense feeling of love. a feeling he's been trying to ignore for the past year they've been apart. it's true what they say... absence makes the heart grow fonder. " i'm heated because i fucking love you, alright? " hates the idea of someone else giving her attention. didn't know how much he hated it until seeing the scenario play out in front of his own two eyes. it's all encompassing, overflowing. she's the only thing occupying his mind. " is that what you want to hear? i love you and i don't like other guys flirting with you. it makes me sick. "

" well, excuse me for my trust issues, " sarcasm heavily laced into syllables. doesn't mean to be so harsh, truly. however, how else is she supposed to behave when the nagging voice in her head repeatedly torments her with 'he left. he didn't care, why else was it so easy?' & unfortunately - that's her own downfall. " i didn't ask you to do that, " statement is exasperated, unjustifiably so, " everything was handled. i was about to even shove him away! why were you even so heated? "

[bowsnstrings]

Scorsese Baby Daddy!

Onyankopon x Black Coded Character ✌️🏾

Summary: Crashing out might be in the cards for tonight, but when things get hard, and hurtful words are said, how will Milana and Ony find a way to make things right?

Warning MDNI!: Fingering, Praise and dirty talk, Mentions of overstimulation, Mentions of food, Mentions of alcohol, Original character with original descriptions.

Masterlist:🍃

Word Count: 15.4k

Relationships were too complicated to even try at this point. Too secretive, too vulnerable, just too damn much. Especially with the way Ony had Milana so mad that she couldn’t even think, not after the argument the two of them got into first thing in the morning, while getting on campus of all places. A disaster already in the making, which only got worse as the day dragged on.

Things had actually started off so good, Milana’s alarm going off with its usual soft chime, breaking through the silence of her early morning. She groaned, reaching out from under her blanket to silence it. Her room was still dim, the early light creeping through the curtains, and she felt the pull of sleep that threatened to drag her back under. But she had a class to get to, and Ony would be picking her up soon.

With a heavy sigh, Milana pushed herself up, rubbing her eyes as she swung her legs off the bed and planted her feet on the cool floor. She stretched, feeling the remnants of sleep in her limbs, and glanced at the time on her phone: 8:15 AM. There was just enough time to get ready if she didn’t start lollygagging like she usually did, excited to see her man and enjoy his company before she had to actually work hard or study.

She shuffled over to the bathroom, brushing her teeth with an automatic rhythm, the minty freshness slowly waking her up. She splashed water on her face, using a warm washcloth to help her shake off the last bits of sleep, and then turned to face her reflection in the mirror. “Okay, Milana, let’s do this,” She muttered to herself, as if mentally preparing for battle. Knowing the situation going on under her bonnet, she definitely was about to go to war.

Nothing a nice hot shower couldn’t start to fix, shedding her sleep shirt and satin scarf to reveal her tangled curls that fell down her back. The warm steam swirling around as she jumped inside, closing the door behind her, letting out a small sigh as the heat enveloped her body. It felt good washing away the remnants of another night sleeping by herself, her phone calls with Ony being the only thing keeping her sane these days. Falling asleep in front of the screen while he was usually still up, counting money or bagging for customers while he soothed her with his voice.

She missed him, feeling like they’d been a little distant after being so close the first few weeks, nervous that their “honeymoon” stage might be fading away. The thought was only getting swept out of her mind under the cascading stream, feeling it relax her tense muscles. Milana closed her eyes for a moment, letting it all seep into her skin as she shampooed her hair, massaging herscalp with her fingertips, enjoying the way the lather slid through her thick hair. The scent of the shampoo, soft and filled with jasmine, lingered in the air as she rinsed it out.

After conditioning, she let the water flow through her hair, rinsing the curls into their natural pattern. Milana loved how her hair looked when it was wet—shiny and bouncy, but she knew that getting it just right was always a process. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a comfy towel, the coziness of it bringing solace to her skin. Her reflection in the mirror showed the early signs of a day well begun, a fresh glow from the shower and a peaceful, relaxed look in her eyes.

Milana set to work on her curls next, reaching for her wide-tooth comb, gently working through the damp strands. She’d learned long ago that combing it while wet, before it started to dry and frizz, was the key to avoiding knots. Reminding herself to go slow as she ran the comb through her hair, already she could tell it was going to be a good hair day. The curls felt soft and defined, just how she liked them. She applied a leave-in conditioner, massaging it through with care, and then followed up with a curl cream and gel, just enough to give some bounce without weighing her down.

Once she’d finished applying the products, she reached for a blow-dryer, using the diffuser attachment to slowly work her way through. Gently drying her hair while spending a few minutes in her own world until she was left with a halo of soft, bouncy curls, each one defined and full of life. That had Milana smiling at her reflection, loving how they looked today. Her hair had its own rhythm, and as much as she might complain about the time it took to style it, there was something satisfying about seeing the final result. It felt like a personal victory every time. With her hair, semi dry and perfectly styled, it was time to leave her vanity and start moving faster.

She knew Ony would be pulling up soon, clipping her hair up, and shedding her towel to lotion up. Smoothing a rich layer of body cream onto her arms, the soft, gourmand scent lingering in the air, mixing with the steam still present from her shower. Her hands glided over her skin, and she closed her eyes, letting the lotion soak in while her thoughts wandered off to her boyfriend again. Like that was anything new. But it had been a while since she’d truly stopped and reflected on how he made her feel.

In the quiet moments, when she was alone with her thoughts, she realized that he was a constant presence in her life. Not just physically, but in the way he made everything feel lighter. As she worked the cream into her thighs, she remembered the way he made even the smallest moments special. Ony had a way of being effortlessly kind, the type of person who always seemed to know exactly what you needed without you saying a word. He wasn’t loud or showy about it; instead, he was quietly, consistently present. Milana had always admired how he could make her feel safe, not just physically, but emotionally as well, showing it in both his words and actions.

She felt refreshed after putting some work in to look pretty, taking some time to actually smile at her reflection, brushing a hand over her arms to take in the smoothness. Admiring herself has never been easy, but after that shower session there was no way to bring her down. Opening her closet to scan the clothes hanging in front of her, excited as she jumped into a skirt and tied a knot into the back of her top to show off a little today. Brushing her lashes with her spoolie and swiping on her lip liner and gloss, just enough to feel awake and ready to face the day.

A glance at her phone told her it was already 10:40, meaning she was cutting it close, but that was nothing new. Milana nearly slipped on her hardwood floors as she sped to feed Oreo and grab her own breakfast. Shoving it down while standing in front of her microwave, happy that she at least remembered to pop her vitamins as well. With a familiar honk outside, she was scrambling to close the fridge and hop into her shoes as she snatched up her bag and textbooks, glasses nearly falling off in the process.

Ony picking her up for school was something new that she enjoyed him doing for her, smiling as he pulled up blasting her favorite songs in his “Batmobile” as she dubbed it. The nickname always made him laugh because of how dark his tints were and the expensive black car wrap that covered it. He hopped out and opened the door for her to get in, laying a sweet kiss to her cheek as she did, giggling softly, adjusting the books in her hands as she tried to stop cheesing so hard at his antics. He closed the door and got in himself to lay another kiss to her lips, grunting appreciatively when her hand cupped his cheek to hold him there.

He tried not to deepen it further, but Milana was just too intoxicating to him, his hands sneaking to wrap around her back. “Ah, Ony. We’ve got school to go to.” She reminded him as she pulled away, using her thumb to wipe her gloss off his lips.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled, pulling her in for one more before he took off. As she buckled her seatbelt she observed him, noticing that his mood didn’t seem all the way there. His eyes fixed straight ahead as if he was lost in thought, a worse thought popping up in her head that maybe he was avoiding looking at her altogether.

“Hey,” Milana finally got him to glance at her as she tried to break the ice, her voice soft. “How are you?”

Ony gave a small humm, but it wasn’t a real answer. His movements stiff as he shrugged, the silence between them thick and uncomfortable. She frowned, trying to study him more, but he wasn’t giving her much to work with. “You okay?”

He nodded, but the gesture felt half-hearted. “Yeah,” he threw it out, replying flatly. His tone was so neutral that she was racking her brain trying to come up with any answers as to why today was so different. "Just tired."

She didn’t buy it, having known Ony long enough to tell when something was wrong, and this felt like something more than just a lack of sleep. She glanced at him, her heart sinking while her mood deflated a bit, but he truly hadn’t intended on being so cold today, wrapped up in his own emotions while trying to process how he felt.

Things with her were just moving much differently than he wanted, their relationship in a weird place for him in the aftermath of her argument with Sasha. He noticed how Milana had become more withdrawn, more reluctant to show affection in public, and now he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe it was because of him. It had started small, little things like her pulling away when he tried to hold her hand in front of their friends or her quickly changing the subject when their relationship came up. But today, it hit him all at once when he wasn’t even trying to think about it.

Them taking things slow wasn’t an issue for him, if it was better for her, then it was better for their relationship. His only concern was that he didn’t see an end to them being private, and now it just felt like they were borderline secretive. Not going out in public, no dates like they were doing when they first got together, or even acting like a couple when they were out. It was hard for him, having to be stuck inside to receive her affection, and all he wanted was to feel proud of what they had—not like they were sneaking around.

Still, he noticed that his silence wasn’t helping to make the ride any easier, tilting his head to turn towards her. It gave her an opportunity to appreciate how beautiful he looked, light filtering through the window, casting a warm glow on his dark skin, making him look even more striking. The way his jawline looked sharp from the side, making his taper appear pronounced, the subtle intensity in his eyes reminding her of his mood. Sometimes, she couldn’t help how she found him so attractive, even if it was at a bad time, it hit her in waves, like she was seeing him for the first time all over again.

The way she looked at him made him smile, finally cracking through to bring him into better spirits. “You ate? You want me to grab you something before class?” Ony asked, reaching a hand out for her to hold while he finished the drive. The redirect allowed her time to breathe, brushing off his earlier behavior by chalking it up to him being tired like he said.

“I ate at home today, Babe. Had some oatmeal and fruit.” Milana squeezed his hand reassuringly, giving him a sweet smile as she answered.

“Good, that’s good.” He nodded, and she caught herself staring at him for a moment longer than she meant to. Ony turned, catching her gaze. He raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, stopping at a red light and reaching a hand over to pick up one of her curls and inspect them with tenderness. “Did your professor hit you back?”

She rolled her eyes, thinking about how her teacher had sent back her essay saying that she incorrectly cited one of her quotes. They didn’t even double check it to see that she hadn’t, and then had the nerve to not respond to her email for days. “Not yet. I’m more worried about this other class though. The homework is only getting harder.” She smoothed out her hair, sighing at the annoying things she’d have to face today.

“Nah, you’ll make it,” Ony said confidently, shaking his head at how she acted like she couldn’t handle the homework, she was the only person he knew who’d look at a “B” and want to cry. “It’s just class, don’t stress so much, Mama.”

“Just class?” She echoed with a playful glare. “If I don’t pass that class I’ll be casting shame upon my whole family.” Milana dramatically threw herself to the side in a fit of mock despair, holding a hand to her forehead like she was liable to faint.

Ony tried to suppress his laughter, her antics getting the best of him, still making him smile through all the struggle he was facing inside. A reprieve from the tension giving them a second of normalcy again. “You’ll do great. Besides, I’ll be there to help you with everything. Y’know, in case you need tutoring later.” He turned to her with a wink, his mischievous smile telling her that studying isn’t what he really wanted to do.

Milana shot him a sideways glance, humming as if she wasn’t sure, as she replied. “Tutoring, huh? Well, how qualified are you?”

“Oh, I’m more than qualified,” Ony said, putting on his smoothest face, making her turn away before she’d burst into laughter. “In fact, I’m thinking of giving private lessons, just you and me. No distractions.” He reached a hand over, letting his fingertips skim up her bare leg to tickle her, she couldn’t help but to laugh now.

“I’ll pass on the tutoring, I already know someone for that. That way I can be free for some alone time.” Wiggling her eyebrows up and down in a way that had him rolling his eyes at her silliness, she finally felt at ease without the awkwardness filling the car.

“You for real got a tutor? Who?” His question was innocent enough, just genuinely wanting to make sure that she was covered in school. He knew how hard she worked in order to do good, and wouldn’t want her to feel like she was slipping up when her semester was almost over.

“Just a friend, my super smart one. We’re going to meet at a cafe or something so he can help me out.” Ony’s eyes narrowed just slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching with a mix of curiosity and something else, an unmistakable hint of jealousy.

It hadn’t meant to creep in the way it did, but the fact that she was so casual about going out with some random guy he'd never met instead of him made his feelings bubble back to the surface all over again. This time coming back tenfold. Maybe it was his mood, or his exasperation with their situation, but he just couldn’t bite the sarcastic jab that left his mouth.

“Damn, you going out with him like that? I don’t got to worry do I?” His voice laced with simmering aggravation that he just couldn’t seem to tame. He couldn’t help but be a bit fed up, tired of tiptoeing around the issue. He’d rather just bring it out and lay it all on the table, but he also didn’t really know the right words to say at the moment.

“What?” Milana responded immediately, brows scrunching in confusion at how he flipped so fast. The air thickened all at once, sucking up the joy that was once there and replaced it with unspoken frustration. “Okay, Ony. What’s up with you?” She finally asked, turning to him with a huff, arms crossing over her chest as she started to feel an attitude creep in. He couldn’t expect her to just be cool with how he’d been acting, especially when he was throwing random jabs.

“It’s nothing.” He tried to brush her off once again, but when he saw that she wasn’t going to let up about it he continued. “I just.. I don’t think this lowkey shit is gonna work for me.” Ony huffed, trying not to let his emotions take over, choosing his words carefully as he spoke. He knew this wasn’t about her friend, it was about them, and how much he wanted to change the way they were right now.

As cautious as he tried to be, it didn’t matter when his delivery still hurt, his tone much less understanding than it usually was. Besides, what did he mean by “lowkey shit”? What was he trying to say? Blindsided wasn’t the word, she felt like something was bothering him lately, but never expected Ony to be upset about that.

“Didn’t you agree when we said we’d keep it private? I thought that’s what you wanted too.” Milana pointed out as she spoke defensively. It wasn’t like she had anything to hide, she just felt like she had made the right choice. They were doing them, without anyone to criticize how they were doing it, what’s so wrong with that?

“I never said I wanted that, you did.” He tossed back, regretting the fact that he had even agreed to that in the first place. At this point, he was ready to forget it and just drop it. He felt misunderstood, simply wanting the respect of being treated like a partner in public.

“Ony, you’re literally getting all upset ‘cause I don’t want to put our business out there?”

His eyes turned, narrowing in on her intensely. The look made her falter slightly as Ony only heightened the situation. She’d never seen him so… upset, usually always calm and even-tempered like nothing could phase him. “That’s not what I said. I just don’t think it’s going to work for us. The fuck is wrong with that?”

Oh now he was doing way too much. “Wait,” Milana chuckled, laced with disbelief at his tone, his chest all puffed up as he tilted his head, smacking his lips at her. “Why are you cursing at me? You act like I’m committing a crime for not wanting to put myself out there on front street.” Now she was ready to show out, voice as sharp as her eyes that looked like they could cut him down.

Ony tried to take a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth. His voice tightening as he held his composure. “All I’m saying is, I want to be able to be with you without having to worry about other people, and you should want that too.”

Milana’s scoff cut through the air like a blade, her frustration obvious as she rolled her eyes like he wasn’t making sense. He’d been trying to be patient up until this point, but hearing that dismissive sound sent a stabbing spike of irritation through him. It wasn’t just the words anymore; it was a culmination of everything, the way he felt like he wasn’t good enough to be proud of.

“Or are you trying to keep things on the low so you can still fuck around?”

Milana’s chest tightened uncomfortably, all of the air being sucked out of her at once. Her cheeks puffed up as she resisted the urge to ball up her fists unless she wanted to break a nail. The weight of his accusation hit her like a ton of bricks, and she couldn’t see anything past the red hot anger that was clouding her vision. “You know what, you can drop me off here.” Her voice shook as she tried not to spew out every obscenity she was thinking of, ready to just walk to school at this point.

Ony huffed through his nose, wanting to slam his head against the wheel after letting that out. That wasn’t supposed to happen, popping off at the mouth and saying reckless things unintentionally, a bad habit he was still trying to conquer. It definitely didn’t help that whenever he looked at her he had a strange mix of frustration and attraction going on in his head. He’d definitely have to tell her later that her angry face made him want to kiss her, and maybe do a little more than that.

“Are you seriously asking me to pull over and let you out?” Ony asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and a half-amused chuckle. “You’re funny if you think I’d do that.”

Milana’s face immediately darkened, glaring daggers at him. “Nothing about this is funny, so don’t even start with me.” All she wanted to do was scream, hands gripping the end of her skirt, bunching it in her hands frustratedly.

“Ain’t nobody starting with you, so chill.” He clicked his tongue, scratching at his jawline, trying to think of ways to apologize when they both calmed down. Her mouth opened again, ready to fire back at him when he cut in. “And I don’t give a fuck about your lil’ attitude. I’m still dropping you off and making sure you get there safe.” His tone had that finality to it, which meant no matter how she begged or pleaded, he was going to follow through. Her arms crossed over her chest, huffing in annoyance as she sat back and waited.

They each ignored each other on the ride there, Milana suddenly finding the window more interesting, looking at the side of his head each time she looked up, trying not to smack her lips in annoyance. Her body stiff, legs crossed so he couldn’t rest his hand on her thigh, bobbing her foot up and down in her cute wedges as she tried not to look at her anklet with his initial on it.

Did he really think she didn’t want to be with him without having to worry about what people would say? Of course, she wanted the same thing, but how could they have that when her own best friend wasn’t approving of them. She was so mad, even more so when she realized he wasn’t wrong, not exactly. He felt the way he felt, though said it in a bad way, but she also felt this deep, gnawing fear that she couldn’t and didn’t know how to explain to him. Afraid of opening up to the world, of being vulnerable. It wasn’t just about hiding their relationship; it was about protecting it. About protecting them from the harsh judgment that came with it.

Milana couldn’t dwell on it for too long, her campus coming into view as they pulled up, watching as Ony still came around to her side and opened her door, helping her step out once he parked in his usual spot down the street from the entrance. She practically leapt to her feet to get away from him, looking around to make sure no one saw them, the action not going unnoticed by him, only making his anger boil all over again. Milana was just about to storm off in a huff when Ony cleared his throat behind her, gesturing to her forgotten school bag in his hands. Oh great.

With her arms carrying her books, she made her way back to him, avoiding his eyes in a mix of embarrassment and irritation. She reached a hand out to take it back from him when he pulled it out of her reach, a teasing expression to him. “Nah, I think I’ll carry it for you.” Even better.

Ony leaned down, eyes boring into hers as he pressed a small kiss to the corner of her mouth, not able to stay mad for long, sliding the books out of her hands to walk them for her. Milana stepped back, not wanting to be so close to him right now, still feeling the residual emotions from their spat earlier. “Don’t be like that, Ma.”

“And what am I supposed to be like, Onyankopon?” She snapped back, reeling it in when he shot her a look for being short with him, lips pressing together to keep from saying anything else.

They started walking afterwards, Ony carrying all her things while Milana was actively trying to ignore him still, seething silently. People were practically tripping over their own feet trying to get out of his way, seeing the deep scowl he had on his face from not being able to resolve anything and having to leave it there. Whispers going around all by her ears making her want to cry and scream all at once.

Fuck, this wasn’t how he wanted it to go at all. Now she was stomping her little feet all around campus, looking cute as ever, but too mad to let him do anything about it. Ony sighed, rubbing a hand down his face as he tried to shake off the guilt he was feeling. He said all the wrong things, too upset to think straight the moment he spilled out what he’d been trying to avoid all this time.

The path to class was too brief for his liking, but not short enough for hers, wanting to escape and be done with this situation. She turned to face him once they reached her Roots of African American culture class, the professor and some students already gathered to begin. He silently handed over her books and bag, watching her sling it over her shoulder and try and turn away to leave.

“We gone settle this later.” Ony all but declared, stuffing his hands in his pocket, mindful not to put his hands on her to give her some space.

“I don’t think so.” His tongue ran over his teeth, biting down and reminding himself that she had a right to be upset. He knew he’d only rile things up even more if he didn’t reel it in, and he’d never embarrass her by trying to argue right in front of her classroom.

“You don’t get to avoid me forever, gotta talk to me at some point, Milana.” Ony eased out, trying to reason softly with her, but only making her stomach tighten with a mix of emotions.

“Yeah well, you don’t get to say hurtful things then act like you care.” Her voice wobbled at the end, quickly rushing into her classroom before she broke down in an embarrassing scene. She took deep breaths, digging in her bag for some headphones to get through the day, writing notes with hardly any effort or drawings to power through. Instead, her mind was focused on not thinking about her boyfriend.

In the end, Ony still made his presence known everywhere she turned. He had been trying to talk it out all day with endless calls and texts, asking her to at least respond. Having to deal with that was hard enough, especially when she had to practically escape off campus to avoid driving with him again. Leaving class thirty minutes early after sending a text to let him know she didn’t need a ride.

That’s when he started going off the deep end, sending Mikasa, a neutral party, over with chocolates from him, really going all out to get her to answer the phone. At some point his messages started turning from asking to telling her that he was coming over, demanding to speak. There was just no way he was going to let this argument continue on like this, but Milana wasn’t too ready to just give up after she felt like he disrespected her.

“It’s like he thinks he owns me. Like I’m supposed to move when he says to. Just disregards everything I’m saying, and to top it all off, accused me of being a cheater?” She ranted, pacing her bedroom back and forth as she replayed the argument from her perspective.

“Girl, this is why I don’t fuck with men.” Mikasa opened another candy wrapper, popping it into her mouth with a content hum until it was snatched out of her hands. “What-”

“Stop eating my chocolates!” Milana huffed out as she slammed the box closed, tossing it to the other side of the bed with an annoyed eye roll. “Focus! Help me think about what I’m supposed to do when he gets here.”

Mikasa groaned, sitting up and rubbing her temples for a second while in deep thought. She mumbled ideas to herself under her breath, then smiled with a troublesome look, something that made Milana a bit hesitant. “What?” She asked, Mikasa sitting up and leaning close to her ear, playing the little devil on her shoulder.

“You want to show him you can make decisions without him, right? Be your own boss, don’t take his shit.” Whispering to her in a soothing tone, her words twisting something in her stomach, feeling a scheme coming on. “Come with me to this bonfire.”

“A bonfire?” How was a party going to solve her issues with Ony? That only sounded like some payback, like toxic Mikasa was in full effect. She felt a twinge of apprehension until it started mixing in with anger, turning into a desire to get out of the house. A strong sense of pride that made her want to show him that he couldn’t talk to her in any type of way. Mikasa’s advice is starting to sound better and better, and besides, if this were Sasha she’d probably be telling her to just cut her losses with him. What was the harm in hearing out another idea?

“Show him you’re not waiting around for him to decide your life. You don’t have to ask permission to go anywhere, so no harm no foul. You’re just going to go and get your mind off of things.” One gift that girl had was to make anything sound persuasive, and right now, everything was making a lot of sense. “No one from campus will be there. Let loose a little.”

Let loose, huh? Maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what she needed. “Give me ten minutes to get dressed.” Milana smirked, a little eager to get out of the house for the first time in a while. She definitely should’ve said twenty though, since Mikasa was holding her to every second. Impatient as she threw on her makeup and scrambled all over the room. Shimmying into some white capris and pulling on a low cut butterfly cami before picking out her chunkiest bracelets and matching heels. She stood in front of the mirror, her hands shaking slightly as she applied the finishing touches, rubbing in some glittering body oil over her skin.

The argument with Ony replayed in her mind, the harsh words, the silence that followed, and the look in his eyes that made her doubt everything. How could he feel like she would betray him like that? When she’d been actively trying to open up just like he was, letting him in closer than anyone else had ever gotten. The thought of even entertaining someone else was laughable, knowing that she’d rather throw up then have to flirt with a man. Especially when she wouldn’t find anyone else like Ony.

Milana had missed him all day, reading through each text he sent while trying not to cry, so angry with him that she didn’t know what to do. Despite the ache in her heart, she knew this was the step she needed to take. A small act of courage to move forward, even if only for tonight. Who knows when she’d feel like socializing again, and maybe it’d give her the confidence she needed to talk things out. Wanting nothing more than to squash this issue and get an apology, but she couldn't bring herself to reach out first. Not yet, anyway. She took a deep breath, knowing deep down, staying in her room while spiraling wouldn’t help. Shaking out the tenseness she felt, she made her way outside with Mikasa, seeing her smile and admiring her look today.

“You look amazing,” Mikasa said as they walked out to the car. “Bonfire's going to be good for you.” The drive to the beach was filled with light conversation and the crackling sound of the radio. Most of it a blur until they actually arrived at the beach, hopping out to make their way to the pit. It was where everyone went for hangouts, parties getting thrown nearly every day of the week all the time.

The air outside was getting crisp, the scent of burning wood filling their lungs as they approached the group gathered around the fire. She didn’t know them personally, not like Mikasa, but they were familiar faces and always nice when they ran into her.

People laughing, talking, and enjoying the warmth of the flames, spread across the area on lawn chairs and beach towels. This should be the perfect distraction. Milana and Mikasa joined the others, finding a spot to stand near the pit. As the warmth enveloped her, Milana felt a slow exhale escape her lips. She could hear Mikasa already jumping into conversations with multiple people, but her mind wandered again to Ony. He stopped reaching out, going radio silent now, which made her feel more uneasy, checking her phone again and again, refreshing it just to see nothing. Now she felt like she had taken him for granted, that he figured it was a waste of time trying to fix it. Was he even sorry? She didn’t know.

Mikasa was her usual cheery self within the group surrounding them, but Milana could sense her friend’s attention, occasionally drifting back to check on her. It made her feel a little better, but not enough to shake the unease. Her hands stretched out in front of her, warming up by the fire, each one holding a heel that was cute but impractical for the beach. “Hey, you okay?” Mikasa’s voice was gentle, probably sensing that she was sensitive, nudging Milana playfully with her shoulder.

She gave a half-hearted smile, softly kicking at the sand while inspecting the jumping embers. Her lips rubbed together as she tried to appear more calm than she felt. “Yeah, just… not used to this.”

Mikasa chuckled lightly. “It’s just a bonfire, Milana. No one’s going to bite.” This time she reached out and draped an arm over her shoulders, making her feel even warmer. “You want me to introduce you to someone?”

Milana hesitated. The thought of engaging with more strangers made her feel even more self-conscious. She glanced around at the group, hearing snippets of laughter and conversation, but felt too shy to join in. It was easier to stay quiet, to stay in her shell. “I don’t know,” Her voice low, quietly dropping her gaze to the sand. “I’m fine here.”

Mikasa nodded understandingly. “Alright, but if you change your mind, I’m right here.” Milana gave a small nod, appreciating the support. She stayed there, watching the fire, feeling its warmth but still battling the uncertainty inside her. Now she was wondering how her friend got her to agree with this. She didn’t get the chance to find out, an entire hour in and she hadn’t done much but feel like an imposter amongst everyone else.

The night alive with the pulse of music, the scent of saltwater in the air, orange and yellow light illuminating the beach. Mikasa making her laugh, hearing it mingle with the sound of waves, but her thoughts were far from relaxed. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy being there, but there was something gnawing at her. Something about being here without Ony, without him knowing, felt wrong. Her nerves creating a tight knot in her stomach.

Milana excused herself to get a drink, needing some time alone for a second to just process everything. Some of the faces around her became unfamiliar, their energy high and free, something she struggled to mirror as she walked carefully to the cooler. Rummaging through it, she found a spiked lemonade that hadn’t been taken, celebrating her win with a smile as she cracked it open. The taste was heaven, cooling her down and giving her a little buzz to get through the rest of the night.

Mikasa approached her, noticing her expression was a little more serious than usual as she glanced up, sensing something was going on in her friend's mind. “Hey, Lana,” She said, taking a deep breath before sitting down in an empty chair next to her. “I need to dip for a second, my ex is here.”

Milana’s heart skipped a beat. “Wait, what?” She immediately sat down too, shocked to know that her ex girlfriend had showed up. They did know the same people, but usually she was always trying to stay away from Mikasa, keeping her blocked for months now.

“Yeah.” Mikasa’s tone was careful, almost hesitant. “I know, I know. It’s a bit of a mess, but she’s here, and I think I need to clear the air, you know?” Her eyes softened as she glanced at her friend. “I’ll be back soon. I just need to do this for myself.”

Milana blinked, processing the sudden shift. She didn’t realize Mikasa still had unfinished business with her Ex. Her friend, usually so confident and composed, was showing a vulnerability she hadn’t expected. Mikasa wasn’t one to really talk about their relationship, maybe it was painful to bring up, but tonight it seemed like she was ready to lay it all on the table. “You’re sure?” She asked, trying to keep her voice low. “You want to do this now?”

Mikasa nodded, her lips curling into a small, reassuring smile. “Yeah. When you love someone, you have to make it right.” That caught her attention, Milana’s head poking up at her friend's words, taking in the subtle advice. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but she wasn’t sure what words would be helpful. Instead, she just nodded.

“Okay. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

Mikasa stood, giving her a quick, tight hug. “Thanks, Lana,” She whispered before walking off away from the group of people who had gathered near the bonfire. Milana watched her go, feeling a strange mix of emotions. There was a sense of loneliness creeping in, but also a strange respect for Mikasa’s courage.

Her mind drifted back to the way Ony had looked at her, distant and hurt, and the words that had spilled out between them like a tidal wave. Maybe it had hurt him, just as much as it had torn her apart. Was she brave enough to fix it though? To apologize? Milana’s gaze dropped to the sand, tossing her shoes down beside her, huffing as she tried to ignore the tears welling up, her anger dissipating slowly. The idea of approaching him, of letting her guard down enough to admit her mistakes, made her feel nauseous.

But, then she drifted away again, her heart fluttering uncomfortably as a few memories of happier times with Ony flickered through her mind. Images of them laughing together, sharing quiet moments, the way he’d always held onto her like a lifeline, keeping her grounded. They’d built something together, something that felt like it could last, and yet, here they were, on the edge of something fragile.

Maybe Mikasa was right, and it was time to face the hard conversations. But how? How could she find the courage to repair what had been broken? Her fingers gripped the edge of her seat tightly, a small but defiant gesture. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to go to Ony yet, but the thought of letting everything slip away without trying seemed even harder to bear.

The sight of someone nearby pulled her out of her reverie. Milana turned, and a guy she didn’t recognize was standing beside her, dropping down into Mikasa’s old seat. He stretched out, getting a little too close for comfort as he decided to speak. “You look like you could use some company,” The man said with a sly wink, the kind that made her uncomfortable. “I’m Nate. What’s your name?”

His grin was confident, his eyes wandering over her as if she were a prize to be claimed. Milana forced a smile, but she wasn’t really interested. Her mind was still rushing in different directions. “Lana.” She shrugged out, lips pulled into a tight lipped smile as she went back to sipping her drink.

Milana looked uneasy, shifting back a little, but the man didn’t seem to take the hint. Instead, he scooted in closer, eyes gleaming when his hand brushed a bit too close to hers. “Silent type, I like that. You’re far too beautiful to be sitting here all alone though. Want to go for a walk?” She felt her stomach turn, but before she could come up with a polite excuse, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“The fuck is going on here?”

She whipped around to see Ony, his face stormy, jaw clenched tight like he could shatter his teeth right now. His eyes looked past her, locked on the man beside her, and for a split second, the world seemed to freeze. Milana’s heart dropped into her stomach. She hadn’t even seen him pull up, but there he was, furious with defensive fists clenched at his sides.

When he had stepped onto the beach, the sound of the party was already buzzing in his ears, his feet hurriedly stomping towards the prettiest girl there. He hadn't wanted to come, not in the mood to be there, or around anyone for that matter after the argument with Milana. Yet, somehow Mikasa had convinced him, practically begged him, persuading him with the promise of being able to finally see his girl. Her presence was so magnetic that it almost hurt to look at her, and even from a distance, she commanded him towards her.

There, in front of him was everything he couldn’t seem to get out of his head. Her skin, so deep and rich that he practically wanted to sink his teeth in, glowing softly in the firelight. He watched the way her curls framed her face, a halo of beauty, each strand alive and full of life. The way her lips parted slightly when she smiled, the apple of her cheeks full with life just like her eyes. They held a shade of brown that always seemed to catch the light just right, making everything else around him blur.

For a moment, the anger, the confusion, the words they’d exchanged earlier melted away. All that was left was the woman he loved, standing in front of him like an image of pure poise and beauty. Then in an instant, it all turned sour.

Nothing could prepare him to see her sitting next to some guy. Ony quickly telling himself that he was overreacting, it’s nothing. He had no right to feel jealous, no right to feel this sting. They were fine, not broken up. Convincing himself that they were just... in a rough patch. But something about the way the guy leaned in, way too close, made something twist painfully inside of him.

Milana could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, embarrassment mingling with all her other unresolved feelings. She hadn’t expected him to show up, and now she was stuck in the middle of something that felt like it was spiraling out of control. It seemed like the only one who hadn’t gotten the hint was Nate, smirking at Ony like this was funny to him. “Hey man, relax. We’re just talking.”

Ony was already tall, but when close by the fire, it made his shadow loom over the two sitting down. His posture made him seem even bigger, broad shoulders squared, obviously not playing around right now. He was moving with a controlled intensity, like a man who knew exactly how to command space, how to make himself noticed without uttering a word.

He glanced briefly at the guy again—still smiling, still leaning in too close, but it didn’t matter. There was nothing Ony had to say to him, turning his attention to who he came for. “Let’s go.” Was all he said, the sharpness in his tone made her flinch. Milana hadn’t expected him to react like this, he had never been possessive, or so angry. She opened her mouth to explain, but the words wouldn’t come out, realizing she hadn’t even considered how this might look to him.

There was nothing to say, instead that would have to come later. Milana pushed up from her chair to stand, solemnly bending down, ready to grab her shoes when a cold hand reached for her wrist. It took her brain a second to register that it wasn’t from her boyfriend, who was now looking like he could commit murder. No, that random dude was holding onto her, making her turned to him confused as he opened his mouth. “Hey, I don’t think so man.”

“Excuse me?” In an instant, Ony stepped forward, his hand reaching for Milana, pulling her firmly toward him. The movement was almost instinctual, like a predator ready to strike, body strumming as he tried not to blow this up for everyone to see. There was no way he’d let another man get away with putting their hands on his girl though.

“Look man, I don’t know who you are, but I’ve waited like forever to talk to her. Just go back to where you came from and let the girl live a little.” The guy just wouldn’t let go, too busy squaring off with her boyfriend to notice how she wasn’t even interested. In fact, she was wondering what part of their short, barely there conversation convinced him that this was okay.

Ony didn’t know what he felt first. Rage, possessiveness, maybe something even darker. He didn’t like the way the guy was looking at Milana, didn’t like how her body language had shifted from her usual demeanor to someone a lot more tense, still trying to politely escape the situation. He for sure didn’t like this creep’s fucking hands on her either, and if he didn’t let go soon then he’d probably have to learn how to use it again in the hospital.

Nate seemed to not get that little bit of information Ony was conveying, instead deciding to fill the tense atmosphere with his grating voice. “Aye, I don’t usually fight for chicks, but she’s so fine I might have to take her from you.” That might’ve been the biggest mistake of the night, sending everyone involved into a silence that stretched on uncomfortably.

Then, out of the blue, amused laughter left Ony’s lips, heavy and uncomfortable. It was scary sounding, so loud that it pierced everyone’s ears, his lips curled into a dark, humorless smile. Uneasy wasn’t even the word to describe how this felt, watching him descend into madness, shoulders shaking slightly with actual mirth. He tried, he really did try not to let the words sink in, but he could only laugh as the thoughts swirling around in his head took a turn for the worse.

“Alright then.”

Ony’s laugh died quickly, but the effect lingered, his voice falling into a chilling calm as he spoke, low and guttural. Milana jumped immediately, heart dropping to her feet, sensing that the dark edge to her boyfriend’s tone was a red flag in the making. His hand reached underneath his hoodie, dipping into the waistband of his jeans to pull out a gun.

“Ony!” Her surprised yelp caught the man up to speed, the guy’s smile faltered as he realized the shift in the atmosphere, finally making him react in the face of danger.

“Woah, man.” The guy obviously didn't know whether to run or stay there, and she didn't think it'd matter anyways. He let go of her hand immediately, allowing her more range to be able to get in front of Ony, trying to push him back from the situation that was quickly unfolding. Nate had been all cocky smiles and bravado when he made his initial comment, trying to make a show of his casual flirtation with Milana. Yet, now that the confrontation was real, and he was facing Ony, standing just a few feet away as he towered over him like a force of nature, it was clear that the guy’s confidence had begun to evaporate.

“Nah, fuck all that. What happened to taking my girl? What happened to all that shit you was talking?” He looked downright unhinged, his words so calm and cool, but his eyes were wild and so scary that she couldn't even recognize him anymore. Her heart seized in her chest at the realization, getting pulled out of the way in her lax state. Nate backed up as Ony stepped forward, her hands reaching out to clutch onto the back of his hoodie and keep him under control.

“Stop, Ony! He didn’t do anything!” That had him turning, looking at her like she was the crazy one, as if he wasn’t the one up in arms over another man simply interacting with her. It looked like he was gearing up to fire back at her, but it gave the guy an opportunity to take a step back, and then another. His body language shifted from brash to something else. Fear and uncertainty, a realization that he had overestimated himself. Without missing a beat, he ran off in the complete opposite direction of the party, the parking lot, and the city for some reason. His footsteps kicked up the sand as he bolted, weaving through the crowd, desperate to put as much distance between himself and the man who was threatening him. Honestly Milana sighed in relief for him, for a minute she thought that it was over for the poor guy.

“Fucking Dumbass.” Ony’s tone was bored as he shook his head, watching him go before looking side to side briefly as he tucked his gun back. The guy hadn't even gotten close enough to warrant a swing, yet here he was, running away, knowing he’d lose badly.

The crowd around them had gone silent. Some of them exchanged confused glances, others looked at Ony with a mix of surprise and wariness. But he didn’t care, he wasn’t there to prove anything. He wasn’t remorseful, had no guilt or even embarrassment at his actions, simply treating the situation like a simple inconvenience that he got out of character. The guy had made his choice, and now, with his back turned and his footsteps fading in the distance, the message had been delivered loud and clear.

“Ony, you’re acting like a psycho!” Milana whisper shouted to him. Her voice cracked with frustration, hands trembling slightly as she gestured at Ony, who stood there like a wall, his expression unreadable. The words felt harsh, but it was the only way she knew how to get through to him. The way he had stood there earlier, staring down that guy like he was ready to tear him apart scared her.

The tension between them was palpable, and everything that had been left unsaid was coming to the surface, thickening the air around them. He only tilted his head at her, not moving, not even flinching at her words. Observing her like he was trying to see why she would say that, and for a moment, she didn’t think he’d respond at all.

“Oh yeah? C’mere and let’s talk about why I’m acting like a psycho.” Her jaw dropped instantly, and Milana actually thought she’d flash from how angry she was, turning on her feet to snatch up her heels and start walking off, too outdone with him. The sand beneath her feet felt like it was shifting with every step, liable to take her down as the salty breeze whipped her hair across her face. The waves crashed violently against the shore, mirroring the turmoil she felt inside.

There was just no reasoning with him, too out of control, and she wasn’t about to deal with it right now. Milana felt so weighed down with emotion that she thought she’d fall over. The fight wasn’t just about the guy anymore; it was everything. The way he was reacting, the way he couldn’t control himself. This wasn’t the Ony she had fallen for, the one who was patient and understanding.

“Milana, the fuck are you walking away for?” Ony’s voice followed her, urgent, his footsteps heavy as he tried to catch up. But she didn’t stop, feeling a storm brewing from how fired up she felt. All she wanted was to escape the pressure building inside her chest.

“I need a break, Ony!” She snapped, quickening her pace, her frustration cutting through her voice. “I really can’t do this right now!” He was right on her tail though, ready to just pull her off the beach kicking and screaming if he had to. Done with playing these games where she’d leave and he’d have to wait for her to talk.

“You’re not even listening to me when I’m the one trying to make this right?” That had her laughing in disbelief, eyebrows scrunched as her whole face twisted into anger, turning around to poke a nail into the center of his chest, keeping him arms length away.

“Make this right? By following me here and popping up like you own me? Or better yet, by threatening to shoot someone like a lunatic?” Her voice went lower and more aggressive as she tried to get away, choosing a path with no one in front of her, trying to find her friend through the sea of onlookers.

“I wouldn’t have to follow you here and show his bitchass what’s up if you actually acted like you give a fuck. You keep pushing me away like you wanna be single or some shit.” Ony snapped, his words coming out sharper than he meant, venom coating each syllable. He could feel the heat of the argument burning in his veins, and the tighter his grip on his temper became, the more reckless his mouth got. The argument had escalated faster than she expected, each word cutting deeper, and now it felt like the space between them was too wide to bridge.

Milana froze at his words, her heart sinking in her chest. The way he said it sounded like a threat, like he was going to up and leave her. She slowly turned to face him, her face a mixture of disbelief and hurt. His stomach clenched, and for a split second, Ony thought he saw tears in her eyes. Something that made him freeze for just a heartbeat. “I didn’t do anything wrong, Ony. I wasn’t even talking to him. How could you say that?” Her voice was rising now, a mixture of hurt and frustration. “You’re just a self-centered jerk who only cares about his own feelings.”

He couldn’t even be mad at that, her outburst filled with pain that he had inadvertently caused by throwing out accusations he didn’t mean. Ony managed to get in front of her path, going around to stop her from moving again, reaching out to soothe her from his own words when she stepped back. “You don’t think I feel bad?” He genuinely asked, wanting nothing more than to take away everything he said.

“You didn’t feel bad when you disrespected me in your car, Ony!” Milana could feel the shame flooding in, the walls she had carefully built around herself starting to crumble, everything inside her spiraling out of control. The love she had felt, the trust they had built all felt like it was slipping through her fingers, and she couldn’t stop it.

“What are you talking about? I felt like a fucking dickhead, why do you think I sent you all them fucking messages and shit!” Frustrated, he rubbed a hand down his face, holding himself back after that unexpected flash of anger. He saw the way people were trying to get closer to hear their argument, his blood boiling too much to deal with them too.

“Whatever, they don’t mean anything when you don’t even apologize.” She tried to step around him, his feet following hers like he knew every move she was about to make, mirroring her pace to stay close.

“You think I just wanted to talk for shits and giggles?” His arm catching hers before she could turn and walk away after realizing that he was trailing her like a shadow. Her head pounding uncomfortably trying to keep herself from acting crazy in public. “I’m not trying to yell at you right now, but I want you to talk to me.” There was no way he’d let her just go, not right when they were finally talking about what was going on, even if they were attracting a bit of attention.

“I want to go home.” Exasperated, Milana stomped her foot at him, trying to see around his stupidly tall body to find Mikasa. Her lip became wobbly as all her emotions hit her at once, and for the first time in a long while, Milana felt panic and was scared that everyone was seeing her fall apart. Seeing them fall apart. The weight of everything between them finally overwhelmed her. The floodgates she had been holding back all night were threatening to burst, and the anger and hurt mixed into a choking sob in her throat.

Ony felt a sharp pang in his chest at the sound of her voice, the pain in it hitting him harder than any physical punch ever could. “I’ll-I’ll take you. Right now, Baby. Whatever you want.” Ony felt desperate, alarmed seeing her almost cry, hating himself as he feared he took it too far. His hands came to rub up and down her arms, trying to bring her back down, sensing that she was too overwhelmed to think in the moment. “Let’s go, swear I’ll just take you home.”

“No.” She immediately rejected, the sting hurting worse than anything else she could��ve said. “I need..I should be by myself.” The words hit him like a blow, especially when he could see how much this was hurting her, the vulnerability that was hidden behind her anger, and he knew that this wasn’t just about the fight. It was about something deeper, something they hadn’t yet figured out. She wasn’t just trying to walk away from him; she was retreating into herself, and it terrified him more than he cared to admit.

“I can’t leave you here, Milana,” Ony said, stepping closer, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m taking you home.” His eyes softened, trying not to sound like he wanted to control her. He wasn’t trying to make her feel small, the hurt in her voice just stirred something inside him—a need to protect, to comfort, even if he wasn’t her favorite person right now.

Without another word, he closed the gap between them. He didn’t wait for her to protest or argue again. Only gently, but firmly lifting her into his hold, his strong arms encircling her waist and under her knees, pulling her close against his chest. Milana gasped, her body stiffening in surprise, but before she could protest or struggle, he was already walking toward the parking lot, his steps steady, almost calming in their rhythm. The warmth of his body against hers, the security of his hold, made her stomach twist in an unfamiliar way.

“Ony, stop!” She protested weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You shouldn’t-” He didn’t stop. He kept walking, his focus on getting her into the car, away from the harsh winds of the beach, away from the tension they’d created.

“I’m not putting you down,” He said quietly, his voice steady and strong despite feeling anything but right now. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let me get you in the car, alright?” Milana went silent, her heart racing as she rested her head against his shoulder, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. The anger from the argument was still there, simmering beneath her skin, but the feeling of being held in his arms, of being cared for in this quiet way, was beginning to break her down.

They reached his car, and he carefully opened the passenger door with one hand, setting her gently inside. As he buckled her in, his fingers brushing against hers, and he looked at her with regret in his eyes. Milana felt a knot loosen in her chest, but there was still that part of her that wanted to pull away, that wanted to hide from him, to protect herself from the hurt that always seemed to come with conflict. But Ony wasn’t giving up on her. He wasn’t giving up on them.

He closed the door gently and walked around to the driver’s side, his movements slow, deliberate. As he started the car and pulled away from the beach, the quiet that settled between them felt different from before. It wasn’t filled with anger anymore. It was filled with the weight of things unsaid, but also with some flickering hope that they could repair what had been broken.

Milana stared out the window, the city lights shining brightly as they drove, her thoughts tangled in confusion. The warmth from his earlier embrace was still with her, but so was the ache from their words. Ony had carried her physically to the car, but emotionally, she wasn’t sure where they stood. The road ahead felt uncertain, but for the first time in what felt like a long while, she didn’t feel completely alone, they were hurting together.

He kept his focus on the road, his eyes steady, but every so often, he would glance at her, his gaze full of quiet concern. He didn’t know exactly what she needed right now, but he knew she needed him whether she admitted it or not. She could tell that he cared, that he was more than just a man filled with rage. Yet, somehow they’d both lost sight of that, getting wrapped up in hurt feelings and they didn’t know how to fix it. What happens if they couldn’t? If the way they felt for each other wasn’t enough, if she wasn’t enough to fix it.

Milana’s face was soft in the dim light of the car's interior, but there was an unmistakable distance in her eyes, an emotional gap that made him fearful for the first time in forever. Ony kept his hands on the steering wheel, his grip a little too tight, his knuckles constricting as he tried to find the right words.

He just blew up on the beach, too angry to be anything but stupid, careless— reacting without thinking, and she had only been quick to call him out to protect herself. He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling slowly as he tried to relax. He hated this, all of the fighting with Milana. Not just because it hurt, but because it made him realize just how much he valued her, how deeply he cared for her. Thoughts running to the sound of her gentle laugh, the way her eyes would light up when she talked about something she loved, and how she always made him feel like he was enough, even on his worst days.

He thought of the way she cared for him too, how she always seemed to know when he needed her, someone to lean on with kind words and even kinder touches. She had been a steady force in his chaotic world, and he wanted to be that for her too. It was the little things that made him realize how deeply he loved her, how much he wanted to make her feel seen and heard even if he wasn’t always good at that.

But right now, he had failed her. He hadn’t been the understanding, patient boyfriend she deserved, letting his own frustration spill out at the wrong moment in all the wrong ways, and now Ony didn’t know what to think. He couldn’t just let the day end like this, with a wall between them. He wasn’t perfect, and he never claimed to be, but what he did know was that he loved Milana. He loved the way she made him laugh, the way she pushed him to be better, and the way she accepted him, flaws and all. He wasn’t going to let one argument overshadow everything they’d started building.

When they reached her apartment, Ony pulled into his parking spot and turned off the engine, the car’s soft hum fading into the night. The air felt heavy, thick with the weight of their unresolved emotions, his body turning towards her, trying to be as open as he could. “Milana...” He started, his voice quieter now, more calm than earlier, making her ears perk at the change. “Look- I know we might need time, but... can we talk? I don’t want to leave with this hanging over us.”

Ony’s earlier words still echoed in her head, each one a painful reminder of how much he had hurt her. The guilt in his voice now, the way he had insisted on taking her home, only made it worse. It felt like he was trying to fix things, but she wasn’t sure how to let him anymore. Her heart twisted, the pressure building up behind her eyes.

She wanted to scream, wanted to shout that it was too late for talking, that the words had already done enough damage. Instead, she felt a lump form in her throat, too big to swallow, too thick to push down. The tears were coming, she could feel them in her chest, in the tightness of her throat, and she knew she couldn’t let him see. Not now. Not like this.

Milana’s hand trembled as she reached for the door handle, the sound of it clicking echoing in the quiet night. “I’m sorry,” She whispered, not looking at him, her voice breaking. “I just… I can’t. I can’t talk right now.” Before he could say anything, before he could even try to understand, she swung the door open and nearly stumbled out of the car.

Her body was moving on instinct, driven by the need to get away from him, away from the suffocating weight of the argument. Away from the pain that had settled in her chest. Ony’s voice followed her, soft but panicked. “Milana, wait-” But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Closing the door made her heart race, like she was shutting down bit by bit. Her pace quickened, almost frantic, her footsteps loud against the pavement, each one echoing in the quiet street.

Milana reached the door to her apartment, fumbling with her keys before pushing it open with trembling hands, and practically running inside. As soon as she was through the door, the floodgates opened. The tears came, hot and fast, as if they had been waiting for her to finally break. She pressed her palms to her face, trying to muffle the sobs that shook her whole body, but the sound of her own pain only made it worse.

Milana didn’t even care if anyone heard her, if the neighbors could hear her breaking. She just needed to feel something besides the emptiness that had taken over her. She didn’t want to talk to Ony right now, didn’t want to face him, because deep down, she wasn’t sure she could forgive him yet. The wounds were too fresh, and the words still felt like scars on her heart.

Oreo approached her with comforting meows, and she scooped him up into her arms, holding him close as though his small, wiggly body could absorb some of her pain. She made her way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her as if it could block out the world, and held him tightly to her chest. Sinking to the floor, her body folded in on itself as if the weight of the world had crashed down on her. And for a moment, it felt like she was drowning in it all, burying her face in the soft fur of her cat, trying to find some comfort in the familiar warmth.

Meanwhile, Ony sat in his car, his hands gripping the steering wheel, staring blankly at the dashboard. His mind raced with all the things he should have said and done, but it felt like every time he tried to work through it, every word he thought of just made everything worse. He had crossed a line tonight, and the damage was already done. This was probably the hardest thing he’d ever done, going in blind with no experience in making up like this. Usually, a gift was good enough, send some flowers, candy, maybe a new bag depending on how bad he messed up. To make things better with his words seemed like an impossible task.

Cursing to himself, he cut the engine, not able to shake the fear that if he tried to apologize now, he’d just make it worse. That somehow, his words would fail her again. But… she needed him. No matter how many times he told himself he was the last person who should be near her right now, the fear that this was it drove him forward. It gave him the kick he needed to muster up the courage to get out of the car and approach her apartment. Her front door unlocked still, probably in her rush to get inside, locking it for her and stepping in further.

Ony noted that it was dark except for the light pouring in underneath the bathroom door, his feet planted outside of it, making sure that when he spoke now it’d only be to comfort her. He sucked in a breath as he knocked softly, getting no response. He knocked again, this time more urgently, calling her name. “Baby? Let me see you, Ma.” His heart raced, and a feeling of helplessness swirled inside him. What if she wasn’t ready? What if she just wanted space? He couldn’t leave without telling her, at the very least, that he was sorry. That he cared. That he was here. If there was even a chance he could make it right, he had to try. She deserved better than what he had given her tonight. She deserved honesty, and respect, and a love that didn’t cause pain.

Inside, Milana heard his voice, but it didn’t make her feel any better. In fact, it made her cry even more. She didn’t know what to say to him. She didn’t know how to put all the emotions she was feeling into words that wouldn’t come out wrong. Instead, she buried her face deeper into Oreo’s fur, as if hoping the cat could protect her from the hurt that still stung. The soft, rhythmic purring of the black-and-white cat was the only thing grounding her, a nice presence in the midst of her emotional storm. Her fingers absently stroked his back, trying to find some sense of calm that seemed just out of reach.

The knocks on the door continued, and finally, Milana stood, wiping her face as best as she could. Her makeup had tear streaks down the sides of her cheeks, and her nose was a bit runny as she tried to clean herself up in her mirror. Ony’s words filtered through as he continued talking to her, hearing the water running for a few seconds and her bracelets jingling as she moved around, giving him a bit of comfort.

After a few minutes to collect herself, she opened the bathroom door, not quite ready to face him but knowing she had to. Oreo slinked his way out through the other side as Ony stood patiently, his expression full of concern, guilt, and something else she couldn’t quite place. He sighed, deep and heavy with emotion, one that made her want to cry all over again. “Baby,” His voice hoarse with raw emotion, hands clenching again, but this time to keep himself controlled.

He knew that there were going to be more hard times, moments when things won’t go perfectly, but he was still willing to fight for her. He’d always fight for her, he’d acknowledge his mistakes and decide to do the work to make things right, because at the end of the day, she was worth it.

“I’m sorry,” Ony said quietly, a bit shaky, unused to having to apologize. “I should’ve never said those things. I should’ve never let it get out of control. I—I should’ve never said that mean shit to you. I just got frustrated, and I didn’t know how to fix it in front of everyone.”

Milana’s palms came up to press over her eyes, taking a trembling breath in and out. Her breathing hitched as she finally let her arms fall to her sides, the tension in her body slowly easing, though the rawness of everything still clung to the air around them. She didn’t look away from him, but her lips quivered as she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “That was h-horrible, Ony. What we said to each-each other-”

Her words cut off, trying to stay in the moment with him, forcing herself to stand in the uncomfortable feeling to get it out. “I f-felt like I was losing you, like… like nothing I did mattered.” He had apologized, had bared the weight of his regret, but what were they going to do moving forward?

He swallowed, nodding, her words settling in. “I know. I messed up, I said things I shouldn’t have. I hurt you, and that’s the last thing I ever wanted. I need you to know how sorry I am.” The words were rough, but honest. Ony wasn’t trying to dress it up, wasn’t trying to make excuses. He just needed her to hear him, needed her to understand that he was afraid of losing her.

Milana stood there for a moment, her face unreadable, and Ony thought she might just close the door and walk away. But then, she stepped aside, just enough for him to come in. He didn’t move immediately. He stood frozen for a moment, his heart thudding in his chest, at what it meant. However, seeing her standing there, the hurt still clear on her face, he couldn’t hesitate anymore. He stepped inside, slowly and cautiously, giving her a bit of space even though his body was a little crowded in the small entrance.

Ony took one step closer, willing his hands to not tremble as he reached for hers. “Please… don’t shut me out. Let me try to fix this, I don’t want to lose you. Not over something stupid.” She didn’t answer right away, but she didn’t pull her hands back either. For the first time that night, there was a softness in her gaze, just the faintest glimmer of hope that maybe, she wasn’t ready to give up on them.

“I��m so sorry too,” She paused, taking a breath, trying to find the words that could make him understand how apologetic she truly was. “I never wanted to hurt you, just wanted to protect us from everyone. I’m just scared.” He listened intently, brushing her curls away from her face, his fingers lingering on her skin, grounding himself in the softness of her.

“Y’don’t have to be scared, Mama. I’m here.” Milana took a shaky breath, then another, before finally taking a step closer to him. Her hand, trembling slightly, resting it on his chest, over his heart. She met his eyes and nodded, as if she were finally beginning to believe him. Her shoulders softened as if allowing herself to be held by his presence.

Ony’s heart surged in his chest as he reached for her, pulling her into his arms, his hands gentle but firm around her waist. She didn’t resist, didn’t pull away, and as he held her close, her arms wound around his neck, her body finally relaxing into his embrace. In that space, they were closer than they had been in hours. Their breaths, shaky and soft, seemed to synchronize, the silence between them holding more meaning than any words could.

Milana pulled back slightly, her forehead resting gently against Ony’s, her breath warm against his skin. The space between them felt like the whole world had contracted into something small, intimate, and undeniable. Everything else felt inconsequential. The hurt, the words, the distance they’d felt earlier seemed to vanish in the quiet of the moment. It was just the two of them now, and for the first time that night, it felt like things were right again.

His fingers gently cupped her face, thumb tracing the soft curve of her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed, the tenderness of it overwhelming her. The tension that had been coiled so tightly inside her, that heaviness that had weighed on her chest since their argument, slowly began to release. She felt safe here, in his arms, even though they were still picking up the pieces of their love.

As if they both couldn’t stand the distance any longer, Ony leaned in. It was slow at first, like they were both testing the waters, unsure if the kiss could bridge the gap that had formed between them.

Then his lips brushed against hers in a way that made Milana’s heart skip, reassuring her that everything would be okay. It wasn’t a grand, sweeping gesture, but it was everything they needed. It was forgiveness, and love, and the promise that they would always find their way back to each other, no matter how lost they might get.

But soon, the kiss deepened, moving faster at a steady pace, the kind of kiss that said more than words ever could. The kind that had him gripping her tighter, pushing her backwards until her back touched the bathroom counter, holding her still there. Needy pecks starting to smack together feverishly, kissing harder than they ever had. Their hands getting tangled in each other, pulling intently to bring the other closer.

“Wait-” Ony pulled back, wanting to step away, but her hands wouldn’t let him. Her eyes getting misty again as she tried to keep them there, needing him to touch her more desperately than she realized. “We’re going too far, I should...” Milana couldn’t stop pressing kisses all over his jaw, distracting him so much that he was having a hard time stringing together his words.

“Please?” She asked, his eyes widening at the implication. He hadn’t done anything since their first date, keeping his hands as respectful as possible, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. But, now she was giving him the green light he needed to satisfy her in all the ways he wanted to. “T-Touch me, please? I need it-”

He spun her quickly, facing her away from him and towards the mirror instead, his head dropping down into her neck to hide how heated her words made him. Gently, he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, his hips trying to stay away from pushing into her unless she wanted to feel how hard he was getting. “Need me that bad, Mama?”

Milana gasped softly at the sudden touch but relaxed almost immediately, leaning back into him. Ony rested his chin on her shoulder, pulling her a little closer. The warmth of her body, the softness of her hair, the rhythm of her breathing—all of it felt so right, so natural.

His hands circled around her hips, dropping down to where her carpis covered her belly, his fingers skimming over the jewelry underneath. Ony was eager to get his hands on her again, having to bite his lip to keep from revealing the smile he was sporting, happy to help her feel everything he’s been wanting to give her. “Want me to touch you here?” He made sure to ask again, massaging her reassuringly in case she needed a break.

“Mhm.” She mumbled out, rushed as she wiggled, grinding slightly against him. Their eyes locking through the mirror in a flash, his boring intently into hers, holding her a bit tighter.

“Say it, Mama.” Ony urged, watching amusedly as she huffed impatiently, Her gaze bouncing every which way now, cutely pursing her lips in thought over his request.

“Need you to-to touch me, please?” Milana could barely look at him while trying to string that sentence together, but it came out truthfully nonetheless. He smiled at how shy she was acting, pressing a nice kiss to neck right under her ear, letting her take a few deep breaths before he did anything.

Slowly, a hand slipped down her pants, easily finding its way into her panties to touch her skin, making her jump. She lifted off of her soles, resting on her toes as she braced her hands against the countertop in front of her, shuddering as he went lower. His other hand left from around her middle, lifting higher to wrap around the top of her chest, just under her neck. Pulling her back into his him as he kept his lips to her ear.

“Fuck,” Ony groaned, smooth and heady, making her whine as he stopped for a second, just resting against her. She was warm, and the further he went the more fiery hot he felt. He settled his nerves, wanting to make this moment special for her, the weight on his shoulders resting on the fact that this was her first time doing this. “You’re doing so good, Baby.” His voice easing her as he whispered, his eyes locked on her face through their reflection. “So, so good.”

“Ony~” Milana moaned out as his middle finger dipped, sliding down her slick clit, her legs shaking as he went up then back again, making her cry out at the ticklish feeling creating pulses of pleasure deep within her belly.

“I’m right here,” She was quickly getting wetter right between her legs the more he explored, his finger dropping to massage at her entrance then rubbing the wetness against her swollen bud. He pet at her nicely, rubbing smooth circles into her to get her to relax. Ony’s slender middle finger was long and thick, the pad touch at and prodded at her open hole, beginning to push in all at once to rip it off like a bandaid. “You’re alright, you’ve got it, Ma.”

“Ahh!” He was careful as Milana squealed, squirming in slight pain from the discomfort. Her hands coming up to grip his forearm where it rested around her, closing her eyes tight as he moved around slightly, filling her up until it touched a part of her no one had ever been before. With how wet she was, it was easy to move. His finger curling, moving left, then right, turning to the middle when Ony heard a different moan pour out of her glossy lips, one that had his dick springing to life.

He delved deep, moving at a methodical, leisurely pace, the tip rubbing into her warm, spongey walls, favouring her g-spot especially when it made her gasp and squeak. He pressed against it and he knows he’s found it when Milana’s arching her back, trying to push her hips away to escape the jolts of pleasure. She had nowhere to go though, not with his body pressing right behind her, keeping her planted right where she stood.

“Take a breath, Baby.” Ony’s words commanding enough to break through the haze clouding her mind. Her head dropped down, clenching her teeth together as she tried to breathe like he said, exhaling a long whine as he pushed up harder.

Milana’s legs could barely hold her, his other hand retreating to slide under her arms to hold her up himself. “So gorgeous,” He said as tears formed at the corner of her eyes, involuntary whines filling up the cramped bathroom. The pace fastens, his finger curling with every stroke, her orgasm coming embarrassingly early while he hits her g-spot over and over again. Her pussy gushing as she clenched and unclenched erratically, walls convulsing around him. “So perfect, all for me.”

“Mhm,” She pinched her bottom lip between her teeth as he hit deep strokes and massaged his fingertip into her gummy walls. Her sticky juices all over his hand, his palm coming into contact with her sensitive nub, introducing the added stimulation just as she began falling apart. The touch had Milana gasping, fingers clenching around the sleeve of Ony’s hoodie, one hand gripping his wrist for leverage. “C-Cumming!” Milana gasped out, body trembling from the sensitivity she endured, his eyes watching as he waited for it, wanting to see the look on her face when she came.

“Eyes on me,” He grunts, reaching up and grabbing her face, chubby cheeks squished in between his fingers. Drool dribbles down her chin as she’s moaning louder, forced to stare at him through the mirror. “I’m right here, Baby. Just keep looking at me.” With Ony’s praises and kisses along her face, he throws Milana over the edge, making her cry his name, trying to keep the contact he asked for but finding it near impossible.

Her body felt electric, every muscle tightening at once, clenching down on him to tight that he wondered how he’d even fit at all, snugly nestled deep to keep petting at her soft spot inside. Her hips couldn't stop moving, full out grinding back against the bulge in his jeans, making him groan as he watched the pleasure take over her. Pretty pink nails digging into his arm as she rode it out in waves, wobbling back and forth into his hand, which he took as a silent plea for more.

Ony smirks, finally having Milana at his mercy, his ring finger dropping down to feel around her entrance as well. Adding another finger felt like an impossible task, yet somehow as she released all over his waiting hand, she was able to lube him up enough to glide the tip in next to his longer one. She nearly screamed at the feeling, legs going haywire as he forced her head back, standing at his full height to get leverage over her.

“It’s alright, Mama. Just gotta make sure you feel me.” He growled down at her, their eyes locked together as he pushed the rest of the way in, settling both fingers next to each other. His hand curled itself so deep that it was lifting her off her feet entirely, starting off with a slow stroke to get her acclimated. The sigh from her throat made her breathless, like she could pass out from the sensations overwhelming her body.

“‘S too much,” Milana panted, wiggling her hips away, but to no avail since he doesn’t let her. The rush of mind numbing pleasure made her hands scramble to hold onto him, his low chuckle causing more slick to escape. Tears rolling down again, this time it wasn’t because of their argument, but he was still causing it nonetheless.

“You’ve got it.” Ony’s words of encouragement were the only option she could take at this point. The whole room filling with the squelching sound of his fingers working her inside out. His arm arches, and his muscles flex under his top as he goes at it with more intensity, her mouth not able to shut up as he drove her closer and closer all over again.

“Wa-Wait!” She rushed out, whining in a strained voice as she clenched her teeth, bracing herself through the slight pain of overstimulation. Her belly winding so tight, so fast again that she could tell this one was going to wreck her. Milana tried to pull his upper arm away from her face, shaking her head as her other hand tried to pry his wrist from her pants.

“That’s a good girl. Let go for me, Baby. Shhh, that’s it, just cum. Want you to soak my whole fucking hand.” Ony felt how her pussy contracted and squeezed like crazy around his middle and ring fingers, wetting him so badly that it was showing through the cotton of her capris. He felt like he could bust in his boxers right where he stood, watching in awe as her knees tried to close around his hand to stop the inevitable, speeding up just to see how much more she could take.

“ONY!” The scream Milana let out was perfect, eyes rolling back so far that all he could see were the whites, mouth open as she locked into a deep arch, his fingers stopping their pumping to instead stroke her inside, churning her body into nothing but mush. He’s pushing his fingers up deeper, feeling around in slow motions, savoring her tight grip and the warm home she provided for them. She shuddered in his arms, sighing out in relief that she came, whole body spasming as her toes curled.

“Still with me, Mama?” Ony asked gently, pressing another kiss to her face, her chest heaving as she tried to calm down. Her heart felt like it could beat out of her chest, and her breathing was all over the place trying to regain all of her hearing back through the high pitch ringing in her ears.

“Mhm…” Milana mumbled, noticing the grip on her face was much looser, helping her head to stay up now. She looked up at him, feeling lovey-dovey because of his sweet tone, and how good she felt. He smiled down at her, withdrawing his fingers with a sloppy squelching little pop noise, and her hole missed him immediately, the feeling his fingers left behind still affecting her.

They quickly went up to Ony’s lips, watching in astonishment as he opened to push them into his mouth, groaning in delight at the taste. His eyes mischievous, catching the way her legs clenched together before shaking again, all her weight slumped into him as he held her up. If he wasn’t the one keeping her stable right now, she would’ve covered her face, scolding him in embarrassment.

“Gotta clean you up, Mama. Get you ready for school tomorrow.” He reminded her soothingly, pulling his fingers from his mouth, looking down at her as he leaned down to kiss her lips. She moaned again, trying to get closer but fumbling slightly, still trying to get her bearings. Their lips moving together so passionately that Ony thought about giving her one more just to really drive it home for her. But, they have a lot to do to prepare her for tomorrow, and that included cleaning up the mess he left behind.

Together, they took a second to bask in the moment they shared, turning his head slightly to let his cheek brush the top of Milana’s hair. His fingers gently let go of her cheeks to wrap around her again, tracing the curve down her torso to her hip, feeling the warmth of her skin, the delicate rise and fall of her breathing. He didn't rush it. There was no need to fill the space with noise, because in it, everything that had been said and unsaid already existed.

Without breaking the silence, Ony reached up and gently tucked her curls behind her ear. Milana’s smile was small but full of warmth. She didn’t need to say it. He already knew. And in that knowing, in the silent understanding they shared, everything felt right. It was a love unspoken but felt in every glance, every touch, every quiet moment. It was a love that could weather the hardest storms, not because it was flawless, but because it was real. And tonight, it was enough.

15.4k words???😵‍💫 Chat, what’s going on rn??? This was supposed to be like 7-8k words at most! Wtf? Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to top it next chapter. 😏 Hope everyone enjoys this craziness and I can’t wait for you to read the next one! xoxo - Bow 🎀

Taglist:

@kxllanxtdoor

@rintcrous

@blackgirlmagicforever

@hidd3nbimbo

@jungkooksleftballsack

@neighbourscat

@chosokamos

[minkiroo]

notes of jasmine

pairing: p.sh x reader

genre: pure fluff

wc: 661

warnings: none!

note! inspired by this moment in his recent live hehe

─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ────

the weekend fell upon you two, a week’s worth of work and toil finally pushed behind you as you finally can rest. seonghwa rests his head on your lap, as you sit back on the couch, crocheting the blanket you’d finally set your heart on making absentmindedly. he, meanwhile, scrolled through his phone, humming along to the shared playlist you had playing on the speaker. it was bright and sunny: the rays filtered through the curtains and naturally brightened the shared living room.

you pat his arm lightly, signalling for him to get up. he hums, caught off guard, but lifted his head nonetheless. you place a pillow under his head in lieu of your leg and stretch briefly before leaning over.

“im going to go shower and get ready for dinner, ok?” you whisper, a small smile on your lips.

he hums in response. “mm, ok. don’t take long.”

“oh please.”

you laugh lightly before pressing a quick kiss to his lips and moving to the bathroom, where you quickly washed up your body before going to the bedroom to get dressed.

“seonghwa?” you called out.

“yes, baby?”

“what’s the occasion for dinner?”

“uh, like dress code? i don’t know, whatever you want love.”

“no, like, where are we going? somewhere fancy, casual? you didn’t tell me.”

he lights up in realization, “oh - upscale!” 

“perfect. you need to get ready too.”

“coming.”

as he made his way to the bedroom, you sprayed a new perfume you grabbed after seeing reviews online. though you didn’t spoil yourself often with perfume, this one you couldn’t pass up. surely this date night would make a good occasion to try it.

he pauses at the door, sniffing. “what’s that smell?” his voice was low and curious.

you look at him, and then shake the bottle you set back down on the dresser. “new perfume. you like it?” you hold out your wrist, letting him smell.

he grabs your wrist, sniffing and humming as he basked in the scent.

he moves abruptly behind you, burying his nose in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. he murmurs softly, “you smell so nice.”

“thanks.” you giggle. he continues to move his head to different spots around your neck and chest, deeply inhaling, almost exaggeratingly so. you laugh, both because of his silly antics and also because his long hair was tickling you with every slight movement he made against you.

“you’re so silly today, ah, seonghwa stop that!” you jump as he nips at your neck, pressing loving kisses and continuing to bask in the scent of your new perfume.

“i’m sorry that i cant help how good you smell and how good you look and how perfect you are.” his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against him as he continues his loving ministrations.

you pout, turning to face him directly, smoothing down his hair against his head. you study his face, a small smile adorning your face as he lightly pants from breathing in far too much perfume. “i’m glad you like it. i’ll wear it all the time now if this is how you’ll be.”

he hums before leaning in, capturing your lips in a warm kiss. though you indulge him briefly, you pull away sputtering, making a face.

“eughhh. you kissed off all my perfume and now you taste like it.”

“deal with it. you love it.” he teases.

“i do not love it though i do love you.” and with that, you kiss him, disregarding the faint taste of perfume. 

your lips moved against each other’s in a slow but passionate dance, imbuing all the love you had for each other in a simple kiss. you couldn’t help but laugh, breaking the kiss and pulling him into a hug. 

as the night went on - the dinner date, the walk in the cool evening air, and the love you made when you returned home - the sweet scent of your perfume remained lingering in the air—a reminder of the little things that made your love so special.