A Tip For This Dick | A Nsfw!streamer!smau⭐️

WHAT THE FUCK

Brb gonna go suck on his Adams apple-

This is how he looks at you when he’s pounding into you. His cock slamming deep inside. Thrusting his hips hard and gripping your sides aggressively. He loves to hear the noises you’re making and the faces you’re making. His own breath staggered and labored from the sheer force he’s giving you.

“Come on Y/N? Can’t take a little cock?”

“So pathetic, look at how you’re crying for me.”

“You like that tiny? Fuck yeah you’re so good for me.”

“Gonna cum deep inside and fill you up.”

“Take it like a good girl.”

jang wonyoung for that matter

Here you go. NCT Jisung

miss maam there are like 50 jisungs in the kpop industry which one would you like

NCT JISUNG

˗ˏˋ. LIKE HOT SUMMER ˎˊ˗ — PSH. 🤍

pairing: husband!sunghoon x fem!reader

wc: 1.1k

warnings: nsfw! includes smut >> unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, sunghoon has incredible stamina, you and sunghoon share a kid, pregnancy, this sets in like 10 years later maybe idk. sunghoon just wants more kids.

a/n: just a short lil smut/fluff for ya sunghoon hoes… enjoy <;3

It was summer and you and Sunghoon were in Italy for a nice little vacation, you left your baby boy to his parents to have a week off and to rest as a couple. It was right after his tour so you both missed each other so much and needed this relaxation.

Well, it was supposed to be resting, according to your plans, but to Sunghoon, resting didn’t mean sleeping and eating fondue all fucking day.

You were non-stop fucking each other since you woke up at noon.

“This day. Supposed to be. A-fuck— rest day.” You cried out when you felt him picking up the pace again. He was on his knees on top of you, his head dropped back and his eyes closed.

You were able to see the sweat dripping down from his neck to his chest. Your man looked fucking incredible. But he was still a boy.

“Well, isn’t your head on a pillow?” Sunghoon smirked down at you as he lifted your hips a bit more to thrust into you with a deeper angle. You let out a loud moan.

“Please don’t cum in me this time.” You managed to say out of breath.

“Can’t promise anything.”

“Hoon!”

He ducked down and rested his face on the crook of your neck, as he slowed down his thrusts, just slowly rocking his hips in and out of you in a grinding motion. His pelvis was rubbing against your clit in the most delicious way. He giggled.

“Yes, darling?” You heard him talking against your ear. He cheekily bit the shell of your ear when you huffed but then rolled your eyes, following with a whimper.

“I hate you.”

“Oh you love me so much.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he smirked and kissed the soft skin of your neck, your fingers scratched his scalp first and then his back, feeling his sweat under your palms. Your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Ohhh, I am so close, hold on.” He nibbled on his lips.

“I’d bite you if you cum in me again.”

Sunghoon’s hips slowed down once again, edging both of you, and letting the orgasm halt. His face scrunched as he lifted his head up from your neck and looked at you like he was offended. He couldn’t hold back his smirk, seeing your disheveled face though.

“Not ready for another baby Park?”

You slapped his shoulder.

“No!”

He ruffled his sweaty hair with his hand as he completely stopped rocking his hips. “Well, what about the other 6 times I finished inside since this morning?”

You refused to look at his face and watched the ceiling as you thinked about your not very wise decisions in the past …. 5 hours. He had a point.

“Okay, fine.” You huffed.

“That’s my girl.” He kissed you on your lips and didn’t let it break as he started moving again, his pace not so fast, but making you feel every inch of him inside of you, always making you feel like it was the first time.

He was never enough.

“So, if I get pregnant again…” You managed to say between his messy kisses. You heard an approving ‘mhmm’ sound for you to go on.

“What are we gonna name her?” You asked as Sunghoon got up and sat on his heels, making you straddle his hips on his lap. You knew he was tired finally, after hours of doing most of the job. You let out a sigh as you felt his fingers dancing on your sides and his lips kissing on your collarbone.

“Her?” He asked, and then you felt his smile against your skin.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he looked up at you. You softly smiled and nodded your head.

As Sunghoon was looking up at your eyes, lovingly, like he was memorizing every single feature of your face for the thousandth time, you realized how everything was so easy with him. Every touch, every word, every connection, every sex, every kiss. It just flowed. Sex wasn’t even just for pleasure, it was a way of communicating and it was natural, in the most possible way.

“As long as she is like you, I don’t care.”

Your lips pressed together as you cupped his cheek.

“I love you so much.”

“I know.” He answered, rolling his eyes.

“You are literally such a pig.” You slapped his chest letting out a laugh. He lightly slapped your ass to tell you to start moving.

“A pig you want babies from.”

You nodded your head as you sunked down on him fully, your nails digging into his shoulders. “On point.”

Your hips starting moving up and down on his lap, Sunghoon’s head ducked down to your tits, leaving wet kisses all over your chest, teasingly licking your nipples and making you cry with slight bites on them. Your fingers tugged on his strands, now wet and slightly curlier from sweat. You were riding him all over again since everything halted with the mid talk and change of positions.

“Psst.”

You were busy looking down to see how he was disappearing in you when he called you.

“You tired babygirl?”

You shook your head as in no before you started grinding even faster, making him let out a beautiful moan from his lips.

“So close.” He whispered to your ear and with that he thrusted upwards, making both of you moan at each other's faces. He was feeling you clenching so hard on him and he was about to cum any moment, which is why he kept thrusting up into you a couple of times more, his lips curled up when he heard your cry and your head falling back as the pleasure took over your body.

Sunghoon held you from the back of your neck and buried his head there again as he kept thrusting, your walls squeezing him so beautifully, he followed you as he spilled all inside of you, filling you up.

“Hey.” He smiled up at you, his beautiful face lit up beautifully by the sunset outside. You traced his cheekbone before he turned his head and kissed your palm.

“I will always love you more.”

You let out a giggle that he always loved the most and hugged him tight, wrapping your arms around his neck and his arms wrapped around your delicate waist, his lips placing a kiss on your shoulder.

In a few seconds your back was resting on the bed again, and he was on top of you, lips messily on each other’s as you enjoyed his warmth and comfort. You giggled when he whined about pulling out but you still made him and got cleaned up before you came back to bed and cuddled into his chest, spending the rest of the day just chatting on the bed, facetiming your son and ordering food to eat.

Your vacation that was meant to be just a relaxing holiday, ended up with a positive test in your hand 2 months later.

PERM TAG LIST

@beomqutie , @2-parks , @zerasari , @axartia , @zhaixiaowen , @jaysbiceps , @hee-pster

Sunghoon as best friend's older brother. Like imagine being in college freshman in 2nd sem and ur bff's was going to fetch her because he had no sched and ur friend was inviting u over at their house. He meets u for the first time and u 2 become close. At ur graduation he finally asks u out with the help of your friend ofc and u 2 fuck the night away on ur first date. How would the sex be like cuz it will full of releasing reatrained selves and sexual desires.

You and Sunghoon are both dummies and both of you are afraid to confess feelings for each other bc he's your best friend's brother and you don't wanna seem like a creep, and you're his little sister's best friend so he doesn't wanna look like a pervert.

But your BFF, aka his sis, has enough of this platonic bullshit and sets you two up, as in literally locks you two in a room for over a night so that you could confess to each other.

Bit you two do more than confessing and straight up just spent the half of your night fucking, him taking you raw and hard. He's been imagining this moment for so long, so he doesn't go any softer on you and just ruins you, breeds into you while he's at it. He marks your neck and titts, and makes it obvious for everyone to see that you're finally his now.

I'M (NOT) FEARLESS , KIM CHAEWON

SYPNOSIS – when the volleyball club’s captain yn comes back home from the regionals triumphant but with no bitches, she turns to her best friend yeonjun, k high’s dance club vice captain who has a candidate in mind.

PAIRING – kim chaewon x fem!reader

CONTAINS – swearing, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, smau, crackheads, gay panics, highschool!au, romance, wlw, mentions of mental health and sexual jokes, dumb idiots in love, oblivious mfs like are you blind?

FEATURING – le sserafim, choi yeonjun, park sunghoon, yang jungwon and mentions of other idols.

NOTES — photos that are used to portray yn is not supposed to claim what she looks like, only for the purpose of showing how that certain picture is supposed to look like. i do not own anything here except for the plot and yn. as this was made for fun, i am not assuming their personalities, their sexualities and how they act through phone and in real life. relationships between people here are purely fictional and only for entertainment purposes only. TAGLIST IS OPEN!

introduction ! K HIGH FINE GAYS DAYCARE

i. TWARS IN MU ETES

ii. i'll make her fold

iii. don't be a weirdo

iv. yeonjun in a bottle

v. ure next

vi. wonyoungieeeee

This is so cute. I love it.

I TOUCHED A VASE | p.sh

STARRING: potter!Park Sunghoon x florist!fem!reader

RUNTIME: 7.7k

SYNOPSIS: Your relationship with Sunghoon was strictly professional, albeit amicable. He would create beautiful ceramic vases that you'd commission for your display, and you supplied him with a collection of seeds he’d use to grow his own personal garden on his balcony. Sunghoon always felt like the two of you were walking around a glass vase that would break with a single wrong step, but sometimes he feels like he needs to make that first step into finally knocking it over.

GENRE: Romance, some levels of angst, magical realism, soulmates!au

WARNINGS: PG13+ | Slight mentions of familial death

DIRECTOR'S CUT: Another @/dhoya repost because I couldn't let this one go. Made minor changes here and there, and in a way, this was a little bit of a warmup when I initially wrote it like two years ago. I'll be producing shorter works called "short films" which will mostly be my writing warmups to take a break from my longer works. Expect more soon (i.e. Birds of Paradise Sunoo but imo that's gonna be refurbished into a full longfic because there's so much lore). Who knows? This might be refurbished into a longfic someday, but I have my priorities and I'll complete them accordingly before expanding on this one.

COPYRIGHT OROCHXI 2023. DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

The place where Sunghoon feels the most ease is in his studio. The low hums of the pottery wheels reverberated across the vast emptiness of his four white walls as he continued to shape his recent work. A string of sighs escaped his lips as he continued to dirty his fingernails with the smooth batter of clay. He’s shaped a myriad of ceramics, but his fingers can never be satisfied. Did he put too much clay? Was it not enough? Is the shape suitable for the design he thought of painting?

He was always a perfectionist—even more so after meeting you.

Dates were never something he bothered to remember unless they had to do with his job. He was quite terrible with birthdays, but he always had specific exhibitions and showcases etched on the back of his head. Sunghoon has always surrounded himself with the earthy smell of clay to the point where he didn’t bother leaving his studio for trivial matters such as restocking his endless cupboard of instant food. He was a man that breathed his craft to a dangerous degree—and if it meant sacrificing some basic necessities, he didn’t mind.

The same went for romantic partners. He wasn’t too big on love like many artists, and he’d go as far as to say pottery was his first love. Ever since feasting his eyes on the pristine porcelain finish of a Joseon Dynasty vase, he devoted his life to perfecting his skill as a potter that upheld tradition. He was aware of his appearance and charm, considering how many exhibition patrons lined up to say a word or two to him. Some of them caught his eye, but his innate stoicism took over, often dismissing these encounters with a humble smile.

The date was an event that he had tattooed on his upper forearm. 23.12.08. Ironically, it was his own birthday, but that wasn’t the first thing that came into his mind when he looks upon the Korean characters on his arm.

How he hasn’t made a major move since two years of meeting you completely baffled him. After all, he was a smart talker. He was quite confident in his stride, and he carried himself well. It was one of the biggest reasons why he had regulars in his little shop—he won them over with each sales pitch, a cup of warm tea, and an inviting grin. Sure, he often disregarded his patrons as mere customers that would pay his rent, but he knew they thought otherwise.

He wasn’t too sure, but a growing part of him began to convince himself that it was the opposite when it came to you.

His first meeting with you was when his doorbell rang three times. It was a moody afternoon, and the clouds were grayer than his current concoction of loose clay. He was in the middle of creating the last batch of ceramics for another showcase he was invited to, so he considered anything outside of his work on this particular day an interruption. In times like these, he tuned everything in his environment out—focusing his entirety on nothing but his craft. It was an automatic process of fishing out wet clay and shaping it with the wheel until he gets the shape that he wants. Sometimes it would take a few spins, but it would often take him the whole day to stop himself from overworking the clay—even then, he never went too far. Clay dried out quite quickly, and he was more than willing to sacrifice artistic integrity for efficiency.

He was a quiet worker, so it was natural for him to ignore the doorbell. The shop was usually closed for a long period of time when he was working on a set of exhibition pieces, and today was such a day. However, the doorbell continued to ring until its whiny chimes were replaced with light knocks on the door.

“Hello? I know you’re in there, Park-ssi. Please let me in or these flowers will die.”

His head jerked up in annoyance. He didn’t mind sociability, but he didn’t like disruption in any form.

Despite the mildly aggressive tone, he didn’t hear any malicious intent in the voice outside of his door. For the loud motors of his electric pottery wheel, the voice was audibly loud and clear.

“Come in, the door’s unlocked.”

Sunghoon had a bad habit of keeping the doors to both his shop and studio unlocked. It used to be convenient, but ever since making a name for himself, it became a huge problem. He’d often be met with the pushy demeanor of his so-called “fans” that asked him about his private life more than his work.

The click of the door was completely drowned by the hums of the pottery wheel as he continued to spin his craft. He didn’t bother to look behind him since his priorities lay in perfecting the shape of a vase he was planning to showcase at the exhibit. While he was known for reviving traditional Chinese porcelain pottery, he decided to fuse the intricacies of its painted finish with a futuristic, angular shape. After all, even he found it boring to stick to the same thing—no matter how beautiful a classic, old-fashioned design can be.

After what felt like hours, he took the weight of his foot off of the wheel’s pedal. The quick gears of the wheel’s motors stopped in a second, engulfing the entire empty studio in sheer silence. A satisfied hum escaped his lips as he admired his new vase. It wasn’t anything special, but visualizing how he’d paint it gave him a burst of energy that recharged him instantly.

“That looks like it’s gonna be a nice vase! I’m sure it will look good with these flowers!”

This time, he jerked his head towards the voice, almost dropping what he spent the entire day working on. He couldn’t tell the age of the person in front of him, but there was a unique glow that surrounded you as you held a basket full of flowers tight. At the time, he placed the blame on the marmalade hues of the afternoon skies, but now he begs to differ. Maybe you truly had an innate brilliance to you.

He held his clay-ridden palm in the air before jogging towards the large glass window of the studio. In front of it was a bundle of flattened newspapers laid out with an assortment of plain, ceramic vases that bathed under the spring sun. He made some space for the vase in his hand, and then gently placed it next to a spherical clay sculpture. Once he was done, he haphazardly took his apron off, throwing it on top of a nearby chair.

“My hands are a bit of a mess right now, but who are you, and why are you here?”

He did his best not to touch anything. You placed the basket on a table by the glass window, making sure the sun’s rays hit each petal.

“I’m a florist. A woman named Madame Mo stopped by and told me to deliver these to you since it was your birthday. She said she would’ve done it herself, but her duties as a so-called “socialite” eventually won her over.”

There was a hint of disdain in your voice as you continued to describe Madame Mo—which was something he somewhat empathized with. Madame Mo was someone who was aware of her “old money” privileges amongst the Korean elite, and she had an air of haughtiness to her—as if she could buy Sunghoon whole. He felt bad for her status as a widow and understood—to some degree—her overbearing attraction towards him, but customers were dealt with professionally. It’s not like he’d go for her if the circumstances allowed it, but he would’ve allowed her to at least be his friend.

A drawn-out, monotonous hum escaped his lips. He completely forgot about his own birthday. He also forgot that there was a flower shop near his studio. As if you saw right through him, you tried to stifle a laugh.

“Working on your birthday sure seems tough.” You said, admiring the bouquet that you picked out for him. “I usually take a day off on my birthdays, unless funeral-related orders happen to be on the same day as my anniversary on this planet.”

You gave him a warm smile, and he felt his heart race. He couldn’t wrap a finger around it, but there was a strong magnetism in your presence that pulled him towards you. At the time, he attributed it to your face and occupation—you had the features of a person he’d find extremely attractive, and you were in the same field as him to some degree. Aesthetics were an integral part of both of your occupations, and so he was aware of beauty when he saw it. 

He cleared his throat, finding ways to make you stay. His eyes scanned through a shelf of vases he’s made for himself.

“It’s my birthday, huh?” He mumbled. He already had a scenario in mind—being the idealist that he is. The only thing that bothered him was the execution. Even if he loathed social gatherings and after-parties, he was thankful that they helped him foster his charisma through sheer trial and error.

Your eyes followed where he stared and admired his craft. A sigh of awe echoed in the studio, bouncing off of all the walls that encased his artistic outlet.

“Do you want me to help you transfer the flowers to one of those vases or something?”

His eyes widened as he snapped his head in your direction. You were now beside him, eyeing each vase with a pensive gaze. There was a telepathic wire that connected your brain to his, and it took some time for him to realize that it has always been there from the start.

Nonetheless, things were going the way he pictured it. In a common occurrence, expectations never match up with reality—what unfolded right before his eyes was too good to be true.

“Yeah, if that’s okay with you,” He replied, swallowing a stutter that was emerging from his throat. “Also, can you help me pick a vase? I only make them, so I don’t know what type of flowers can complement the design and whatnot.”

You beamed with an infectious joy that day, which he inferred to as the “artist’s pursuit of happiness”. It was every artist’s pride to share their expertise, skill, and knowledge with any audience, no matter how big or small. He was well aware of this, being a victim of the phenomenon himself.

The two of you stayed in his studio until night. Before you said goodbye, he offered you a glass or two of Chianti from his vast collection of wine in the kitchen cupboard while you sat on his balcony outside of the large glass windows. You suggested ordering a cake as a celebratory gesture, but he gently declined, saying that he wouldn’t be able to finish it on his own. He liked that you were careful whenever you opened the glass sliding door that led to the balcony, with each step memorizing the positions of the drying ceramics laid out right beside the window. He also liked that you wished him a happy birthday throughout your time together, even when you’ve just met him.

Sunghoon never allowed anyone to touch his unfinished work, but that day he let you assist him in firing up the remaining pots he needed to complete his exhibition pieces. Of course, he didn’t tell you this, but what he did tell you was that you had a good eye for color. There was a humility in you accepting his compliment, but he also admired the layered sense of achievement that slipped out of you as you continued to share how anthology naturally broadened your grasp on color theory.

When you said goodbye at his door, he promised to see you at your flower shop the next day—even if he didn’t have any interest in gardening. He doesn’t regret this though, since he’s learned to appreciate growing his own flowers throughout the two years he’s known her.

Since then, he formed an unbroken routine with her. He’d often visit your flower shop to ask for seeds and fertilizers, while you commissioned vases for him to use as a display for your flowers. When he had the time for it, he’d offer to teach you how to make and paint your own vases, while you would return the favor by showing him the art of flower arrangement. It was an almost daily occurrence for him to walk into your shop, even when he had more than enough tools to expand his newfound hobby.

“Didn’t you buy a kilogram of fertilizer yesterday?” You asked one day with a light chuckle while spraying a bouquet of roses with water. He did his best to regain his composure and told you that he forgot. That was the first time you came to his house for the sole purpose of giving him a crash course on gardening. A part of him felt guilty that you offered more than he did when it came to your respective fields, but another part of him took every chance he had to spend time with her. This, in turn, formed a part of his routine with her—where you would visit him to check on the flowers he began growing at the edge of his studio’s balcony.

Some days, you’d come to the studio with a sketchbook, and the two of you would spend your time together in comfortable silence. Ever since you taught him the language of flowers, the two of you began to switch roles in the still-life sessions that you shared together. He would pick which flower he wanted to draw that day, and you matched it up by picking a vase from his array of fine works that would benefit the vast collections of your shop.

Usually, he’d end up eating dinner with you with a glass of wine, often dropping you off at home. The silent walks under the dim street lamps were the best and worst parts of his days with you. While he was able to stay close to you, he would never get the courage to either hold your hand or tell you how he felt. 

He’d religiously invite you to every single showcase he attended, even going as far as to offer you a job to help decorate each venue with your floral prowess. Two years had passed since he first tried to persuade you to come with him to an auction, but you still managed to shy away from these events. 

This was another thing he liked about you.

In fact, there were too many things he liked about you. The way your eyes would shine under the fluorescent lights of his studio; the way your nimble fingers cut the stem off of his flowers; the way your footsteps lightly trudged whenever you drank too much wine—the list would be endless.

Perhaps his status as a renowned potter shaped his personality today, but he’s begun to realize that it wasn’t a good thing regarding his qualms with you. For one, he was too careful. He treated you like fine China, nimbly avoiding hazards that would tip what he currently has with you off and break all that he’s built with you up to now. He was too afraid to ruin the delicate details of everything that made his relationship with you so beautiful—so he left it untouched, only walking around the hypothetical vase between the two of you.

Another thing he dreaded was how difficult you were to read. In the same way that he treated his patrons with charismatic benevolence, you greeted every single customer with a bright, inviting smile. You shared your knowledge of flowers with regulars the same way you taught him how to arrange them in his vases. He knows he’s being selfish, but the idealistic thought of keeping those memories exclusively between the so-called enchanting secrecy that he’s built with you chipped him away with each passing second. The line between his self-doubt and reality was blurred like a piece of clay spinning in his wheel, and he couldn’t step on the pedal to stop it altogether.

This time, it was going to be different. He knew he couldn’t keep on working on the same vase for too long—the clay would be too dry, and he’d just keep on adding more wet clay to the amalgamation until it was too large to handle. Like all his failed attempts, he needed to tip it off and allow it to break before it was too late. Only then would he be able to create a newer, much better vase.

He woke up earlier than usual today, even though he didn’t have anything to do. It was probably around half a year ago, but he’s been gripped with fever dreams that leave him with a temporary level of high body heat. It would often die down later in the day, but the severity of these fevers made him routinely check his temperature the moment he woke up.

Today was an all-time record of 38.5 degrees Celsius.

The haze that came with the heat left his reverie blurry, but your face was always unforgettable. Most of his dreams left him breathless with all the sensations in his mind and body activating all at once, and all of them gave him an indescribable feeling in a vast spectrum of positive emotions. Each dream was also different than the last, but he never seemed to remember exact details other than your sheer presence. All he would remember when he woke up was the afterimage of his silhouette and hers seemingly pacing a vase in the middle, as well as a haunting melody that was distorted by an aging record player. He didn’t know what the song was called, but at this point, he could perfectly hum its tune—which he unconsciously did throughout the day.

This time, he remembered every single detail. It was almost too picturesque, and the entire scene made him wish he could just dive back into his covers and relive his reverie—but alas, he couldn’t live like that. Idealistic trances that came with an eerily deep slumber left him in a state of euphoria, but he wouldn’t trade it off for the exhilaration of meeting you face-to-face. After all, he always prided himself in having an affinity for authenticity.

He quickly got out of bed and darted to his shower room, allowing the ice-cold water to ripple on his skin. He was never one to take a bath in the morning, but ever since his episodes of fever-inducing dreams got worse, he felt that it was a necessary step in regulating his body temperature. Once he was finished, he wiped himself with a large towel and wrapped it around his waist, before visiting his balcony to bask in the morning winds. The season didn’t matter to him—in fact, winters work best with his current condition. Despite being somewhat naked in broad daylight, he never seemed to succumb to a cold. No matter how harsh the winds were, he managed to pull through the teeth-clattering chills. Although behavior like this seemed counter-intuitive, what worked for him worked.  

Ever since he began growing his own flowers, he would always be greeted with the floral notes of his seasonal home garden. While he initially started the hobby as an excuse to see you more often, he began to steadily see the beauty in its meticulous intricacies. Unlike clay, flowers had life in them; a single shard of porcelain can be revived into a postmodern piece for the rich, but a stem stepped in half was practically dead. In the same way, dry clay can be fixed by adding water, flowers had a tiny margin of error when it came to feeding them their necessities.

The marmalade rays of the sun were perfectly aligned with the semi-large pots of flowers that began to bloom with the seasons. you initially picked out a starter set for him, which included marigolds, pansies, and daffodils. After he got tired of their vibrant, yellow hues, he opted for a batch of tulips, carnations, and azaleas.

“Do you know what these flowers mean?” You asked, elegantly cocking your eyebrow at him. You were wearing your shop’s apron, which complemented your figure in his eyes. Perhaps he was too used to donning the same apron each time he met you, or maybe it was the apron itself becoming a part of his renditions of you. 

Of course, he knew what they meant—but he was used to pretending when it came to you. Feigning ignorance was a relatively easy and safe way for him to go around his feelings for you in repeated circles, but it was getting harder and harder for him to continue when the thought of you subjected him to blissful vertigo.

“No,” He answered, maintaining his cool exterior.

“I just wanted to get them since they looked really nice.”

After that, you helped him sow the flower seeds into a bed of soil by his studio’s moderately sized balcony. You gave him a run-through of each flower and its meaning; tulips when they were red meant deep love; carnations when they were dark red signified love and affection; azaleas represented a gentle kind of love. You teased him about it by referencing several people you’d seen at the exhibitions he’d invited you to, and he did his best to restrain himself from proudly dedicating each batch of flowers to you.

It was currently the middle of spring. Being an artist, he had an appreciation for all four seasons of the year. His sensitivity to the weather and changes in his surroundings were often reflected in the painted finish of his ceramics—for spring, he’d use finer brushes to bring life to the blue hues of the petals that adorned each vase he made; for summer, he would draw faded clouds that captured the iridescence of the light blue skies; for autumn, he’d experiment with colors and use a warm, gentle palette to accentuate the dead leaves that he often saw strewn around the roads; for winter, he created delicately designed plates that were adorned with snowbells.

He closed his eyes and felt a flurry of cherry blossom petals stick to the moisture of his freshly washed skin. Unlike the maple leaves of fall, he enjoyed the satin finish of each petal as they lightly caressed his exposed body.

As he tightened the towel on his waist, he was met with your figure sitting down on one of the studio’s stools. He did give you the keys to his house, but he didn’t expect you to come this early.

“Good morning! Aren’t you cold?”

Sunghoon greeted you with a gentle smile like he always did. He chalked it up to the orange tint of the rising sun’s rays, but there was an inkling of hope in him that blossomed as soon as your cheeks emitted the warm dyes of the weather. You offered him a steaming cup of coffee, but he politely refused. After all, he had already gotten rid of the heat in his body—he didn’t need another source to add fuel to the fire.

“I do this every morning, it feels nice.”

Your eyes wandered around the blooming pink hues of the potted flowers you helped him tend, which were now covered by a small flurry of cherry blossom petals. Carefully obscuring his barely covered form, you occupied yourself with marveling at the care he’s given them.

There was a look of concern etched on your face at his remark, and he hastily excused himself to his bedroom. Before he was able to leave, you took his hand and pulled him towards her.

“Hold still,”

You turned him around, picking the stray pieces of light pink petals that stuck to his back. A single touch of your fingertip managed to electrify him—which prompted him to exhale in jagged breaths.

“I don’t know if you’re doing this on purpose or not, but wouldn’t it be uncomfortable if you dressed yourself with petals stuck to your body?”

Through his peripheral vision, he saw a pile of cherry blossom petals increasing in size beside him.

“I thought it’d be nice body art.” He replied with a chuckle. It’s been two years now, and yet his heart always leaped whenever you laughed with him.

“Well, you should’ve told me! It would’ve been a nice source of inspiration for your spring-themed collection, and I could’ve helped you pick out which flower petals worked with your skin tone!”

You tapped his shoulder, and he automatically faced you. He noticed and admired the gradual agility in your fingers as you continued to pluck the stray petals off of his chest and neck.

“You know, maybe you’re right about the whole body art thing. This looks gorgeous! They look like scales or some half-human hybrid off of a fantasy novel.”

The palms that firmly held his shoulders were warmer than he was used to. He hummed in response, staring at your focused demeanor. It was the same one he’d see whenever you arranged flowers back at your shop, or when you’d immerse yourself in painting a vase in one of his free lessons for you.

“Love, flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

He reserved pet names for you, despite telling you he had a nickname for each of his friends. The last petal was formally removed from the left side of his collarbone, and you gave his shoulders a soft squeeze.

“Darling, I mean it. Now go get changed before you catch a cold!”

You gave him a light push towards the hallway that led to his bedroom, careful not to exert too much force. He hoisted the towel up one more time, and waved you a quick goodbye. He never dared to ask you if you reserved pet names exclusively for him or not. 

 “So why are you here so early? Don’t you have a shift today?”

Sunghoon was now dressed in his usual garb, and he slowly leaned his body on the elongated table of his studio. He always delved into the smart casual style, and sported a loose cream turtleneck with a checkered suit jacket.

“I took the day off. I thought it’d be nice for you to have a companion since every call we’ve had this month always ends up with me being busy.”

Oh, the things you did to him. He’s perfected the air of nonchalance that surrounded him, but it didn’t mean the beatings of his heart eased by any means.

“I mean, it’s funeral season. I’m pretty sure your services are needed to provide the appropriate flowers for the ceremony.”

Ironically, many deaths occurred in spring. Most of his commissioned urns were requested right before the vernal equinox, and seeing you running around in a sleek, black suit was a sign that spring was here. Today though, you were wearing what you usually wore, albeit a little more fashionable.

“Well, today, there were no funerals scheduled, so I had some liberties in taking the entire day to ourselves. I do have someone I want you to meet though, if that’s okay with you.”

A smile wasn’t appropriate for the conversation topic, but you managed to muster a small one towards your companion. You took the cold cup of coffee you brewed for them and slowly sipped its contents. Sunghoon left his own cup untouched—caffeine was unnecessary when you were in his line of sight.

“Who?”

You placed the mug down as you fidgeted with your seat. You then tapped your finger on your lips and gave him a cheeky wink.

“It’s a surprise!”

Although your playful attitude was refreshing to him, his curiosity won him over. Each plea from him to reveal the mystery guest he was going to see was only met with you doubling down on your secrecy. He eventually gave up, huffing to the side as he crossed his leg on one of the stools.

Timid patterns of your fingernails tapping onto the surface of the ceramic mug filled the air. The ticking of the clock continued to echo across the entire room. you whistled a tune that sounded familiar and unknown at the same time, which made Sunghoon ponder its origin. He wanted to believe that it was the same tune he’s heard in his dream, but such a twist of fate seemed too farfetched. Silence was usually something he didn’t mind when he was with her. Being next to you and feeling your presence was enough for him, and there was a part of him that found earthly comfort in her.

“I,“

You heaved a sigh. He didn’t know what it meant, but what he knew at the moment was how rare it was for him to see you distressed in the slightest. False hope was a deep kick in the brain, and he raveled in the myriads of possibilities that started with the word I from you.

“You?”

On cue, you stood up to occupy the empty stool next to him. Taking a neatly wrapped cloth out of your tote bag, you untied it to reveal shards of porcelain that were all too familiar to him. There were clusters of rich soil and plant roots that stuck on the sharp corners of each shard. His entire body contradicted himself. For one moment, he yearned to get closer to you, and in a second, sudden tremors overwhelmed his nerves, leaving him gasping for a single sliver of air. 

“Please don’t get mad at me, and please believe me when I tell you this, but the first vase we made together accidentally got knocked on the floor while we were cleaning the flower shop in my dreams. It means a lot to me since it’s the first vase we made together, and I was wondering if we could maybe spend time today gluing it back?”

Your breath was audibly jaded. His eyes widened, and his mouth went agape. A sudden sensation froze him, preventing him from moving a single muscle no matter how hard he tried. Shock would be the closest phenomenon he’d describe it, and the layers of self-doubt that he’s built throughout the duration of knowing you began to peel off one by one.

“In your dreams?” He couldn’t hide the astonishment in his voice.

You gave him a slow nod after gulping. He leaned closer to you, lips forming a thin line. There was a visible plea in your gaze, which he returned with curt reassurance. You allowed your body to rest on the table’s surface, using your elbows to support your weight.

“It might seem unbelievable at first, but it’s true. In my dream, we were together in the shop, dancing to some old hits while cleaning. I think it was around nighttime, since the skies were dark and the shop had the closed sign displayed outside.”

You closed your eyes and began humming the tune whilst dangling your feet to a moderate rhythm. Sunghoon’s eyes began to grow wider, his body stiffening with every second that passed.

“Were we dancing with brooms while that vase was right in the middle?”

It was your turn to exhibit a state of bewilderment. You neatly piled the shards of ceramic back into the cloth, wrapping it in a different knot from when you first brought it in. While doing so, your shaky hands pricked themselves on one of the shards—but the pain didn’t seem to faze you one bit. Your entire body was undergoing stupefaction, and you were solidly upright like a marble statue. You tried to continue talking about your dream, but a mere croak was the only thing that escaped the invisible clasps of your throat. It took all of Sunghoon’s current strength to prevent himself from breaking contact with your dilated eyes.

“Was I the person that knocked the vase over?”

You gave him a firm nod. Placing a hand on your heart, you subjected yourself to a few rounds of deep breaths. He hesitantly took your free hand in his and gave it a firm squeeze.

“You knocked the vase over with the tip of your broom, causing all the soil and flowers to come out. And then, I woke up to the sound of clatter downstairs at the shop. The vase was broken, the flowers we planted together were also on the floor, and I immediately thought of coming here to fix it together. Maybe harvest the flowers on your balcony to regrow them in the repaired vase.”

He felt your fingers curl on the back of his palm, and he returned the gesture with a beaming grin. Your feet were now sporadically dangling on the height between the stool and the studio’s floor.

“Listen, in the end it’s just a vase, and we’ve made a lot of that together.”

He used his eyes to point at the shelf behind them. you follow his gaze, keeping your hand on his. Sure enough, the collection of ceramics he’s made with you was triumphantly displayed on a glass case right next to an endless shelf of failed pottery. Each vase and plate were arranged in chronological order, and a wave of nostalgia washed over him as he continued to stare at your rather quick progress. While you had an eye for color, you didn’t have agile enough fingers to operate a pottery wheel—the same could be said for him. While he was great at drawing flowers on his sketchbook or painting them on the ceramics he crafted, he was initially terrible at soil cultivation and maintaining flower beds. It was the parallel yet extremely complementary nature of your respective skill sets that allowed for such a relationship to blossom in the first place.

He took your hand and led you to the glass case. As your eyes hovered over your earlier works with him, a certain embarrassment began to surface in the form of tinted, rosy cheeks. On the other hand, he did his best to hide the ever-growing pride that consumed him. you averted your gaze from the entire glass case, and he used his thumb to soothe the shakiness of your hand.

“See? I don’t think we should dwell on a single vase for too long. If we glue that vase back together, the crackles are just gonna ruin the glazed finish it once had. There’s also a high chance that water might leak out of the vase since glue doesn’t specifically fix cracks in fragile things.”

The two of you were still in front of the glass case. He felt a strong aura of energy around each vase that was displayed under its glass casing. He took a deep breath as he tried to control the tremors in his body. Taking your other hand in his, he interlocked your fingers with his, feeling a perfect fit. He’s always wanted to do this.

“So, we should make another one by scratch?”

Your voice wavered, as if you were in a hurry. He tried his best to hide his looming dejection. Of course, events like this were too good to be true.

“Well, we already have a fired glazed model from last week. All we need to do now is to paint it.”

Taking his word, a grin lit up your eyes in radiant sparkles. You picked out a cylindrical shape from the batch of dried pots you shaped with him, and he added a mental tally to the chances he’s missed.

By the time the pot was ready, the sunrise that Sunghoon woke up to retained its same hues, save for the presence of a violet trail in the sky. While he added final touches to the intricate designs of the cylindrical pot, you trimmed some flowers from his home garden and arranged them in a lovely, pink bouquet. Each bud wasn’t overcrowded, and you balanced the vibrance of the petals with a fair share of leaves. As an added touch, you placed some fallen cherry blossom petals on the bouquet, giving it a youthful yet transient glow. While waiting for the paint on the pot to dry, he continued to pry your on with the identity of the guest.

“You’ll meet him soon,” You’d often reply, with a gentle smile on your face. He knew he was overthinking, but a part of him insisted that you were going to introduce him to a new significant other. The thought alone to him was extremely ridiculous and downright impossible, but nonetheless, a wave of apprehension continued to float above his head as he waited to finally have his guest revealed.

The tote bag you brought with you was large enough to fit the newly crafted vase, so you carefully wrapped its entire body with excess newspaper before gently placing it in your bag. As for the bouquet, your hand carried it with you.

“What should I bring?” He asked, while turning off the lights in his studio. He gave the flowers on his balcony one last spritz of water before locking the glass sliding door to his balcony.

“You don’t have to bring anything, really.” You patted the side of his shoulder as you said this, whilst securing the ceramic in your tote bag.

He opened the door for her, before leaving himself. Usually, you would say a snarky comment or two about him being a “gentleman” and whatnot, but that youthful manner was replaced with a gentle smile of pure gratitude. He didn’t mind this side of her—in fact, it gave him more reasons to yearn for her. The endless dimensions of your character were as multi-faceted as the endless spirals of his pottery wheel, and he never wanted to lift his foot off of the pedal that unraveled each and every layer of your soul.

The pavement outside the city was lined with fading cherry blossom trees. The spring winds blew eastward, and a flurry of light pink petals would caress your faces with a touch of tenderness. There was a small river beside the pavement, which had a stone bridge perched right in the middle of it all. Sunghoon himself has visited the park countless times, but he limited himself to the bench near the entrance—where he’d have his sketchbook opened to paint still-life watercolor illustrations of the fleeting people that ebbed and flowed with the flows of the river.

You hoisted your tote bag tighter, gripping its strap as you continued to walk. You were approaching a slight inclination that led to a miniature stone bridge that separated the river. He continued to follow you, watching your unwavering, determined figure with awe as you walk past all the greeneries, flowers, and marble headstones that he suddenly felt himself drawn to. 

The entire walk from his studio to the park was in sheer silence. There were many questions that plagued his head, but at the same time, he took note of your secrecy. He couldn’t feel any malice to your slight stoicism and withdrawal. However, the curiosity that continued to consume him persisted.

Before walking away from the bridge, he took a mental note of the location. It was constructed in a typical ancient Korean fashion, which gave him several ideas for his next exhibition. Most of his works centered around floral themes ever since he met you, and he realized the redundancy in his craft. Maybe adding a body of water amidst the flowers he’d often paint would accentuate his vases and pots.

“You know,” you began, keeping your eyes in front of the road. Tall marble slabs began to appear in his line of sight, and he admired each of their craftsmanship. Perhaps, in another life, he would have chosen to become a marble sculptor. There was an allure in the macabre nature of funeral proceedings, and he was sure that each headstone he would produce would harbor an even graver symbolism than the urns that were commissioned to him. 

“I don’t know if I told you this, but you’re always in my dreams.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Rows of black and grey marble headstones bore Chinese characters. In the corner of each headstone, there were greyscale photos of faces that each told a different story. You were an amazing florist to everyone else, but to him, you are a professional at subjecting his vitals to rigorous gymnastic routines.

“What do you mean?” There was no point in asking this. He predicted the answer to bear an uncanny similarity with his own nightly experiences. There was also a part of him that didn’t feel the need to tell your his side of things—there was always a telepathic connection between them, and some parts of him believed that you already knew he experienced the same phenomenon.

The two of you were approaching a colorful gateway that smelled like paint thinner. The primary colors were flashy, which was almost ironic given the monotony that existed past the gateway. The golden sign shone with the setting sun, and the watchful eyes of the two guardian lions on each side of the gate stalked your every move as the two of you walked inside. While it was his first time entering such a place, your automatic strides juxtaposed his wandering eyes.

“When Madame Mo called me to arrange your birthday bouquet, I began seeing a face that looked exactly like yours. That time we didn’t know each other, so I did my best to memorize your facial features in case I’d forget them when I woke up.”

You stopped in front of a little wooden stall by the entrance. Taking your wallet out, you temporarily handed the bouquet to Sunghoon. you thanked the monk, receiving three thin incense sticks and a candle with a matchbox in return. He offered to continue holding the bouquet, which you apologetically agreed to. you slipped a single incense stick into the breast pocket of Sunghoon’s suit jacket, patting it in place before resuming your stride.

“Anyway, I’d get these crazy fevers whenever I dreamt about you, and I never really remember what I saw in my dreams aside from you and a vase between us. I still don’t know what it means, but maybe he might have the answers.”

He?

Your footsteps came to a halt. The two of you were now in front of a wide, obsidian headstone. Unraveling the cylindrical vase from its newspaper wrapping, you positioned it right next to the headstone. Then, you gently placed the bouquet of flowers inside the vase, using a bucket filled with water nearby to add its contents inside the vase. There was a photo of a man that looked like he was in his late fifties. He had a gentle smile on his face, and he bore a certain resemblance to her.

You took the matchbox and lit the incense sticks. Sunghoon hastily pulled his own stick out of his pocket and used the heat of your two sticks to light his own. The floral notes of the sticks wafted into the air, followed by a spicy undertone that gave your nostrils a light kick. You clasped your hands in prayer, closing your eyes shut. He followed suit, bowing at a slightly steeper angle than her. A few minutes of silence filled the vastness of the cemetery. A soft clap signaled the end of your prayer, and the two of you lifted your heads up in unison.

“Dad, meet Park Sunghoon, the man in my dreams.”

All at once, the suspicion that Sunghoon bore dissipated into thin air. It was now replaced by a tinge of guilt that bore holes in his heart. On cue, he gave the headstone a long, steep bow.

“Dad, you told me that I’d know who my soulmate is if I get a high fever after dreaming of them. Here he is, and I hope you’ll watch us from above.”

Sunghoon continued to keep his head down. The sudden shock of it all was hard to contain. you tapped his shoulder, telling him it was okay to raise his head up now. you waved a quick goodbye to the headstone, before walking back to the gate of the cemetery.

The winds continued to blow eastward, with distant petals of cherry blossoms caressing your cheeks as the two of you walked on.

“I originally wanted to use the vase we first made together, since I’d imagine that held more longevity between us.”

Instead of looking forward, your eyes were now towards him. He kept his hands in his pocket, but he returned eye contact nonetheless. Even if he was extremely satisfied with the outcome, he still didn’t know how to go about it.

“I guess you were right about the vase. It had to break for us to make this new one.”

He nodded in agreement. The two of you shared a smile as you walked past the colorful gates of the cemetery. There was no need for physical contact anymore, as the two of you felt the clays of your hearts spin into one, intricate vase.

—CREDITS: @writingmochi @hyuckworld @petrichor-han @wonvrse @tranquilpetrichor @soobisms @differentchildwombat @chiyuv

MON AMOUR (p.sh)

pairing: husband!sunghoon x reader (f)

summary: after a tiring day spent following your twin children and doing the chores, what could be better than letting your husband take care of you?

warnings: fluff & smut. unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), they have a daughter and a son, creampie, p in v, dirty talk, meandom!hoon, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, making out, kissing, cuddling. lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

wc: 3.1k

published: 20th May 2024

taglist: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @heelvsted @jwnghyuns @seunghancore @bangtancultsposts (one shot) @slut4hee @love13tter @deobitifull @xiaoderrrr @cha0thicpisces @minjaexvz @crimnalseung @skylaly @ensaz008

a/n: based on this ask from anon. hope you don’t mind i changed it a little bit <3 i just love imagining how enha would call their kids (like, in heeseung’s fic, jia 😭😭)

“I want the pink toothbrush!” Your daughter shouted with her high pitched voice, pointing at the toothbrush of the respective colour.

“Alright.” You smiled and handed it to her, “Here you go, Haneul.” 

“And you?” You looked at Haneul’s twin brother, smiling ever so sweetly “I want green.” Yohan answered, his chubby finger pointing at the toothbrush. 

You removed it from the wrapping and handed it to him “Now, brush your teeth, I want them all clean, alright?” 

Both of them nodded and you started filling in the laundry, programming it to function for that night. Spring coming with its perfect weather for the twins to play outside, it also meant your laundry had to work overtime with the amount of mud they get on their clothes.

Turning around, you noticed them arguing over the toothpaste. You shook your head and took it out of Haneul’s hand before she could make a mess and put a little bit on it on both of their toothbrushes. 

Patrolling so that they wouldn’t argue over something silly again, you helped them in their pyjamas and tugged their covers.

With one kiss on each of their foreheads, you whispered “Good night.” And exited their room, hoping none of them woke up for the whole night.

You rested your back against the door, rubbing your temples with a soft sigh. You loved the twins, you had never wished for something as wonderful as them— But it was draining to follow them the whole day and also do all the chores. 

You tried your best not to let it show, Sunghoon surely had it worse, waking up at dawn and coming back later than sunset. It must be so exhausting you didn’t have the heart to complain about your own tiredness.

You walked to the bedroom, opening the door just to widen your eyes when you saw Sunghoon’s figure, removing his blazer meaning he had just come home. 

You smiled “Hey.” You said, closing the door behind your back. 

He raises his eyebrows at the sight of you. “Hey pretty,” Sunghoon murmured, his eyes trailing along the length of your body.

He threw his jacket on the edge of the chair sitting over by his desk, his eyes not leaving you for a moment.

“You’re back.” You stated, fighting the urge not to add a ‘finally’ and walked towards him, taking the jacket to fold it better.

He watched as your fingers nimbly folded the jacket, a soft smile appearing on his tired face. 

Sunghoon felt the stress of the day slowly disappear from him when he looked at you. He reached out and took the jacket from your hand, setting it down before pulling you close to him.

“I couldn't stay away from you three any longer.” He mumbled, pressing a soft kiss upon your lips.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tilting your head “They kept asking about you.” 

A small laugh escaped his lips and he tightened his arms around your waist in return, “Did they really?” It was rhetorical since he already knew the answer. 

He hadn’t been home early enough to see them for days due to his work and he couldn’t help but feel guilty at the fact. Sunghoon knew that he needed to spend more time at home, with you and his little daughter and son.

You hummed, resting your head on his chest with a small sigh. You had missed the way your bodies mended together, just so perfect for each other.

His warm embrace always made your day better, no batter what hardship you had encountered— He just knew what made you happy.

Noticing that you weren’t saying much as usual, where you would tell him all the things that happened through the day, Sunghoon gently cupped the back of your head, his fingers brushing your hair out of your face.

“You ok, love?” He asked softly, tilting your head up so he could look at you, his eyes scanning your face to search for any sign of discomfort.

“I’m sorry,” You shook your head “I’m just tired.” You gave him a small smile, not wanting to worry him much. 

He nodded, understanding that you were going through a lot as well, “Don’t apologise,” Sunghoon mumbled, before pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I think we could both benefit from being in bed right now,” He teased lightly, a smirk appearing on his lips “You worked so hard, even ironed all my blazers.”

“Yeah but you take a shower first.” You pointed a threatening finger in his chest “I just changed the sheets.” 

Sunghoon chuckled lowly, “Then come join me,” He winked, gently squeezing your hip as he stepped back towards the bathroom, not letting you take a moment to respond that he was dragging you with him. 

“Hoon…” You murmured, looking back anxiously, despite the bathroom being private, they still might hear you “We need to be quiet.” 

Sunghoon looked over at you with a cocky smile, unbuttoning his shirt slowly “You know I’ll try my hardest.”

You narrowed your eyes “You never do.” 

He smirked back at you as he dropped his shirt to the floor, “You love it though,” He quipped teasingly, watching you as you stood there, watching him unabashedly.

You crossed your arms “The twins might hear us, I’m not sure they’re asleep yet.” 

“I’m sure they are.” He commented, stepping closer to you and pulling you flush to him once again.

“Besides, it’s you who needs to keep quiet, baby.” He mumbled softly as he leaned down to press a trail of kisses along the side of your neck.

You let out a contented sigh, tilting your head back to give him more access.

His hands slipped under the shirt you were wearing, his fingers gliding over the bare skin of your stomach.

Sunghoon pushed you against the counter, his teeth nibbling your collarbone, leaving small, red marks.

His hands squeezing your hips gently to keep you in place.

He was desperate to have you close again after being so busy for days and his body was missing you.

You let your hands wander all over his bare chest, feeling his shaped muscles. The feeling of your hands all over him made him eager and desperate to touch you as well. 

He quickly grabbed the hem of your shirt, bringing it over your head before tossing it to the side. 

Sunghoon let out a small groan when he noticed you weren’t wearing any bra. His hands found your breasts right away, groping them.

You attached your lips to him and as the kiss deepened, his hands started trailing down to your hips once again, his fingers digging into the flesh. 

Sunghoon pulled you even closer, moaning lowly into the kiss as he grinded against you, his desire for friction evident against your body.

You let out a shaky breath and trailed your hand down to palm his clothed bulge. 

His breath hitched and his forehead rested against yours, looking into your eyes as you palmed him. 

His lust-filled gaze locked with your own and his hand moved to grab yours, gently pulling it away.

Sunghoon had a smirk on his lips as he brought your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss on the inside of your wrist. “Not yet, love.”

You looked at him puzzled “Why not?”

“I want to take my time with you tonight,” Sunghoon spoke gently, his eyes burning into yours. 

One of his hands lifted to move strands of your hair and place it behind your ear. “Just because I haven't been home much doesn’t mean I’ve lost any of my skills. Just relax.” He reassured you, wiggling his thick brows.

“Yeah?” You chuckled “How about you show me?”

Sunghoon’s lips stretched up into a mischievous smirk, pulling the elastic from your hair and letting your hair fall down your shoulders.

He pushed his knee up between your legs, his smirk widening at the small gasp he managed to pry from your lips ”That's exactly what I plan on doing,” He replied.

His knee rubbed up against your heat, applying light pressure every now and then just to tease you. He could feel how hot and desperate you were becoming.

When you felt something sharp on your shoulder, you gasped “Sunghoon… No marks.”

He grinned against your skin, “But you love it when I mark you,” He purred into your ear. 

You lightly hit his shoulder “Still, it’s difficult to hide them.”

Sunghoonleaned closer so his lips hovered over yours, the two of you sharing the same breath and exhales.

”I don't want you to hide them, love,” His eyes burning with desire as he looked down at your body. “I want you to wear my marks with pride.”

You nagged “How will I explain to the twins where these marks come from?”

A low chuckle left his lips as he let his head drop down to your shoulder, his nose rubbing against your skin. 

“They’re too young to know,” He mumbled against your neck, “And these are for my eyes only anyways.”

You rolled your eyes at his shameless he was “You’re incredible.”

Sunghoon’s other hand moved to hold your chin gently so you’d look at him, his dark eyes boring into yours.

His leg moved up again, pressing harder and rubbing up against the sensitive spot he knew you’d moan at. 

“Hoon…” You murmured, unable to grind your hips on his thigh with the way he was holding you.

 “Do you know how much I missed this?” He breathed out, his fingers gently caressing your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, his mouth hovering just over yours.

“As much as I did.” You replied and made your lips crash back together, your tongues dancing the ballad of love.

“Please..” You pleaded, feeling your body burn in desire “Sunghoon, please.” 

“Please what, pretty?” Sunghoon asked mockingly, knowing exactly what it was that you wanted, but not giving it to you just yet.

“Stop teasing.” You said desperately “Stop teasing you say?” He grinned, “And just give you what you want?” He murmured before pressing a gentle kiss on the shell of your ear.

“Not tonight, baby. Tonight I want you to take what you’re given and you’ll be grateful for everything I do to you.”

Your body shuddered at his words, just the thought of finally being able to be his all over again made slick pool your panties. You nodded obediently, his husky tone just fuelling your desire.

 “Good girl,” Sunghoon mumbled softly, his hand reaching out to gently pull you forward.

“C'mon, you deserve to unwind after dealing with our babies all by yourself,” He reassured with a warm smile, leading you towards the bedroom.

You walked beside him and laid down on the bed, all bare except for the shorts you were still wearing. You looked up at him with utter lust, your nipples hardening at the sight of his huge bulge poking through his working pants. 

Sunghoon noticed it and massaged your breasts, licking his bottom lip.

Your breath was heavy, your eyes piercing through his body and your pussy aching for his cock.

“I need you.” You whispered “Yeah? Need me that bad?” You nodded, rubbing your thighs together.

Such a sight made his cock twitch in his pants, the fabric becoming more and more tight “Can’t wait anymore, mh?” He said and reached for your pants.

“Lift your hips for me.” He said and you complied, helping him remove them. 

Sunghoon held his body above you, his hands on either side of your head to prevent himself from crushing you. 

His tongue quickly slipped into your mouth once again as he relished in the taste he’d missed so badly.

“I’m going to fuck you,” He kissed your lips, unzipping his pants “I’m going to fuck you so good, put another baby in you.”

He groaned at the memory of your swollen belly, carrying not one but two of his children. The idea of having a third one went straight to his cock.

“Knock me up.” You said, blissful euphoria clouding your senses.

Sunghoon pulled down his boxers and pants, his cock sprung free, angry and pulsating. 

Your hand went down to pump it, wanting to provide him some kind of relief.

He let out a moan, bucking his hips to fuck your fist “Do you want me to prep you?” He asked. 

“No, just fuck me.” You said, impatiently, “Make me yours.”

You didn’t need to say more, Sunghoon pulled your hand away to align himself to your entrance after slipping your panties to the side and then pushed his thick tip inside of you. 

“So wet already.” You moaned out at the stretch, so sweet and painful at the same time until he pushed all of him inside of you, his tip kissing your cervix.

“You feel so good, baby,” He mumbled quietly, his body desperate for more of the feeling of you wrapped around him. 

Sunghoon’s hands gripped your hips as he slowly began to roll his own against your body, setting a slow rhythm for both of you.

You rolled your eyes back, mouth agape as you felt him pull out just to push himself right back into you.

“S-shit baby.” He groaned as he picked up pace “Squeezing my cock so tight.” 

You grasped his forearms, his muscles under your palms “Fuck— Yes.” You moaned, a little too loudly.

“Shh,” He shushed by crashing his lips on your, swallowing your moans “You don’t want Haneul and Yohan to hear you, do you?” 

You shook your head, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. 

Your own hand went down to rub small circles on your clit, bringing yourself even more pleasure.

Sunghoon craved you, your body, your mind, your whole being. He wrapped his hand around your throat and pushed himself deeper, hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. 

“My wife.” He grunted “My gorgeous wife.” 

You hummed, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts “I missed you so much.” You breathed out. 

Sunghoon nodded in understanding, claiming your lips once again “I missed you too, baby.” 

Sunghoon squeezed your nipples, making you moan “I’ll take tomorrow off, fuck the company, just want be with my family.” He snapped, his hips moving more harshly against yours.

You didn’t have the mind to reply to his rumbling, his pace along with the feeling of him was enough to make the knot in your stomach tighten. 

You clenched around him, making him curse under his breath “How come you’re still so tight?” He scoffed mockingly “Pushed out two babies and you feel tighter than before— Shit!” Sunghoon bit down his bottom lip to muffle his moans.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him more down to you “Hoon, I’m gonna cum.” You warned.

“I know, pretty,” Sunghoon panted heavily between moans, his pace even faster as he chased his own end. “Cum for me, yeah?” He mumbled, “Wanna feel you come undone for me.”

You tried to hold it back, wanting the moment and the pleasure your husband brought you to last forever— But it had been a while since you two shared an intimate moment and your body wasn’t used to it as much anymore. 

With one particular deep thrust, you came with a muffled moan, your body squirming and back arched. 

Watching your orgasm sent him over the edge and he came soon after, “Fuck, Fuck.” Groaning heavily as he felt your walls clenching around him. 

He emptied his load inside you, coating your insides with his cum “Take my cum, angel.” Sunghoon twitched inside you “Take it all, good girl.”

As you both tried to come down from your high, he laid on top of you, not caring that he was probably crashing your body. You didn’t care as well when all you wanted was for him to stay close.

One of your hands went to brush his bangs out of his sweaty forehead and you pressed a small kiss on his thick brow. 

Sunghoon chuckled, the aftercare sessions always full of giggle and unspoken affection..

“Will you seriously take tomorrow off?” You asked quietly after a while, unsure whether he was being serious or if he was just too in the moment. 

He chuckled, caressing your cheek with his thumb “I’m the CEO, I decide what I want.” He said proudly. 

You smiled widely, a warm sensation spreading inside your chest “Really?” 

“Really.” He promised, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip “We’ll make a big surprise to the twins and after we take them to kindergarten….” He bucked his hips, his cock still inside your warm pussy, none of you wanting to disconnect your bodies.

He leaned down to whisper inside your ear “I’m going to have you all for myself, fuck you full of my cum until you can’t no more.” 

You kissed him, biting his bottom lip harshly “I’m down.” Sunghoon moaned, pulling you into another make out session, your bodies moving at a slow rhythm.

After cleaning up, you laid down side by side, his big body engulfing yours, warm arms protectively around your waist.

You missed all of it, the smell of his cologne, the warm feeling of the sheets around both your bodies, his soothing presence.

Sunghoon traced small patterns on your back “Stop drawing dicks.” You nagged, chuckling.

He smiled and pressed a featherlight kiss on your head “I’m so lucky to have you.” He took your hand in his, both your rings tingling “And I never tell you enough how grateful I am for our babies.”

You snuggled closer to his chest “I’m so lucky to have you too— I wouldn’t have made it alone.”

“I love you so much.” Sunghoon whispered, his eyes slowly closing, exhaustion overtaking him “I love you more.” You murmured back.