💬 — ENHYPEN BOYFRIEND TEXTS

five minutes | l.m.h

pairing... bf!minho x gn!reader tags... established relationship, disgustingly fluffy, excessive references to soondoongdori, minho is a cat personified, soft mimo!

operation put your boyfriend to sleep in five minutes is a go.

wc... 1.4k words a/n... ah, yet another domestic fluff fic featuring softy minho. a star specialty! sorry guys this is kinda my fav thing to write ever r u sick of me 😁 anywayz this was inspired by this soft thought and this tiktok like i saw it and immediately thought : lee minho.

ALSO ALSO! HUGE THANK YOU FOR 1K FOLLOWERS! i never would've thought i'd reach this milestone and words couldnt express how incredibly grateful i am for each and every one of you who read and enjoy my works <3 i love you guys thank you so much!

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Minho turned the doorknob and pushed the front door open, greeting Soonie who stood by the entrance with a tilted head. Shutting the door, he hung his bag on the coat rack and bent down to pet his beloved cat’s chin.

“Hi, baby,” the cat nuzzled his head into Minho’s palm and circled around his arm, “where are your brothers, hm?”

Meow… Soonie walked off to the living room as if to answer Minho’s question. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he followed his cat toward the faint nose of your favorite series playing on the TV.

When he entered the room, Minho saw your figure strewn lazily across the couch. Dori was cuddled up against your chest and Soonie hopped up to join Doongie by your feet. His heart warmed at the sight of his loves all huddled together.

“Honey, I’m home,” Minho grabbed your attention with his gentle, sing-song tone, a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

You switched your attention from the screen in front of you to the man standing in the doorway, returning his smile and giving a small wave. “Hi, my love. How was your day?”

Minho padded over to you, scooped Dori up against his chest, and settled himself where the cat had previously taken solace in your arms.

“It was alright,” he said, scooching backward to press his back firm against your front. “Tiring, as usual, but it's fine.”

Though he couldn't see it, you nodded in acknowledgment and pressed a soft kiss to his head. You brought one hand up behind his ear to scratch at his scalp, something you had found he enjoyed.

“Do you want to go to bed already? It is pretty late.” From its place above the TV, the clock read 10:37 PM. “Maybe we should move our little cuddle session to the bedroom.”

Minho sighed and shook his head. “But, I'm already so comfy here. Plus, you wouldn't dare disturb the cats, would you?”

“Please, remember the last time we slept on the couch the whole night? I don’t think we want that happening again.”

“Y/n,” Minho called your name, dragging out the last syllable. “My back hurts so much! Remind me why we stayed on the couch again.”

“I told you we should have moved to the bed! But you wouldn’t listen to me,” you snickered at your boyfriend from the kitchen while you continued to whisk a couple of eggs for your breakfast.

You set the bowl down on the counter and walked over to Minho who was still lying on the couch. When you came into his sight, he made a show of stretching his arms and legs, akin to a cat, accompanied by a few exaggerated groans.

“I don’t think I can get up at all today. I should just call in sick,” Minho draped an arm over his face, letting the other fall limp over the edge of the cushion.

“Don’t you have an important meeting today? I doubt your boss would appreciate you missing that on account of an 'ouchy' back.”

“Well, maybe if you gave me more cuddles, I’d feel a bit better.” Minho peeked at you from under his arm, proposing this cute, yet slightly impractical, solution. “Unless you want me to miss work and stay at home with you today.”

“Alright, you big baby.” Rolling your eyes, you moved to straddle Minho’s lap, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. Now chest to chest, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders, letting the other one snake up his neck to play with the hairs at his nape.

The time you spent wrapped in each other’s warmth turned from seconds to minutes, the comfortable silence lulling you back to sleep. Minutes turned to hours, leaving Minho’s meeting unattended and the scrambled eggs forgotten on the kitchen counter.

“Ugh, at least give me five more minutes,” Minho offered as he continued to stroke Dori’s back, drawing a vibrating purr from the cat. “I don’t wanna get up yet.”

“Oh, come on, you have to brush your teeth anyways. Now get your lazy bum off the couch so we can cuddle on the bed.” You grabbed the throw pillow from behind your back and swung it at Minho’s side, accidentally startling Dori in the process. The cat jumped out of the man’s arms, causing him to throw a frown over his shoulder.

“Now look what you did! You’re scaring our babies.” Finally, Minho stood up, offering you his hand to pull you up as well. You met his hand with your own and anchored yourself up, giving him a sheepish smile.

“Oops.” You shrugged and skipped off to the bedroom, leaving your boyfriend with your three cats in the living room.

“Unbelievable.” Minho took a few steps towards the bathroom, paused, and turned back to look at his cats. “Well, are you coming with me or not?”

While your boyfriend finished his night routine, you lay on your shared bed and grinned to yourself. Operation Put Your Boyfriend to Sleep in Five Minutes was a go. You knew Minho was tired, and you wanted to send him off into a good night’s sleep in the most loving way you could.

The hallway light switched off as Minho opened the door to your bedroom, sporting a playful frown. It was time for Step One: Put him in a blanket.

“Come here, baby,” you peeled the duvet back and patted the space on the bed right next to you, beckoning your pouty boyfriend over to you. “Let’s get you to sleep, yeah?”

Trudging over to his side of the bed, Minho slid onto the mattress and pulled the heavy duvet over his body. Freshly washed, the warm, lavender-scented blanket immediately soothed his senses.

“You could’ve at least stayed with me while I brushed my teeth,” Minho continued to pout as he turned on his side to face you, “and, I don’t know, given me a back hug or something.”

Though his tone was playful, you recognized the look in Minho’s gaze. He yearned for your comfort, but he didn’t know how to ask for it. Reaching over, you cupped his face, gently caressing his cheek with your thumb. You peppered a few pecks on the corners of his mouth, kissing his pout away. Perfect timing for Step Two: Give reassuring pets.

“I’m here now, it’s okay.” His hair was soft in between your fingers as you threaded them through the fluffy locks. They smelled faintly of his coconut shampoo.

Tired, Minho let out a yawn, nose scrunched and eyelids shut. He leaned into your touch, humming contently.

Faintly, the door creaked open and you could hear light thuds on the carpeted floor, followed by a slightly louder thud on the bed as Doongie entered the bedroom and jumped up to join you. He stepped all over Minho’s body—drawing out a quiet yelp from the man beside you. You giggled as Doongie finally plopped down on Minho’s pillow, snuggling against the top of his head. This brought you to Step Three: Tuck him in.

With your boyfriend lying under the covers, you hooked one leg over him, moving your hand on his head to tuck it into your neck, cradling his body with no intent to stop any time soon.

For a second, the universe felt still. It was as though the ever-rotating hands on the clock had stopped moving, pausing to witness this intimate moment between you and Minho; as if even the angels in the skies above didn’t want this sweet gesture to end.

That was until Minho decided to take matters into his own hands and execute Step Four: Put one arm out for temperature regulation.

“It's too warm!” Minho whined into your neck, breaking the silence, and removed one arm from under the blanket, exposing it to the cold air. “Ah, that's better.”

He turned on his side and wrapped his now free arm around the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, if that were even physically possible.

Seeing your bodies pressed flush against each other, Soonie—who was previously lounging at the foot of the bed—crawled up the sheets and nuzzled into the barely-there gap between you and Minho, with Dori following suit.

Within five minutes of lying down, the night ended with your small family cuddled together on the warm, cozy bed, basking in each other’s comfort.

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taglist: @kflixnet @jinnixxn @elllisaaa @captainchrisstan @laylasbunbunny @starsandrqindrops @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @forlix @mires-empire @quesweebs

comments, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated! © like-a-diamondinthesky 2023

a little something for anyone who's having a hard day, prompted by Chan's msg on bubble. I'm proud of you as well <3

As soon as Chan set foot inside your apartment, you were quick to pull him in for a hug, clutching his shirt tightly in your fist. He didn't need you to say anything- he could immediately sense that you had a bad day.

Wordlessly, Chan bent down, picking you up as your legs wrapped around his waist. He moved to the closest couch where he sat you both down. There, he pulled you to his chest once again, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"You're okay?" he asks softly, and you shake your head no.

"It's okay, you don't always need to feel good. It's normal to have a bad day. You've been working so hard, my love. It's okay to let it all out," he reassures, and you tighten your hold on him, tears falling freely from your eyes at his words.

"You did well today, baby. You did so well," he soothes, his gentle voice making a familiar warmth spread in your chest. "Thank you for waking up. Thank you for getting through the day. Thank you for breathing."

"It was so hard, Chan," you choke out a sob, and he shushes you quietly, rocking you in place back and forth.

"But you did it. You are home, and I'm with you. It's over now, yeah?" he reassures, planting a sweet kiss on your temple. You wrap your arms around his waist, further sinking into his comforting hold.

"I'm proud of you, I'm so proud of you. Always will be," he leans away a bit from you so he'd be able to look at your face. You know he's telling the truth- you can feel the love he has for you through his shining eyes.

"You hear me? As long as we're existing, then I'm proud of you. No matter what."

feining for frat boy katsuki…

it was hot. loud. half the girls were already screaming over shirtless frat boys grinding against windshields. your friend dragged you out with a “come on, it’s for charity!” and now you’re standing in the corner with a lukewarm lemonade and zero expectations.

you didn’t even want to come to this stupid fraternity fundraiser.

your roommate dragged you out with the promise of half-naked frat boys, but all you’ve seen so far are drenched freshmen trying to flex their way into a hernia.

but then you see him.

he’s got his back turned at first—lean muscle, golden skin, red swim trunks slung way too low on his hips. sunlight catches the water dripping down his back like it’s staged. and when he turns around?

game over. he’s gorgeous.

sharp jaw, wild blonde hair flattened from water, a cocky little smirk on his face as he wrings a sponge out over his head, totally aware of the stares.

and he sees you. right away. ruby eyes locked with yours and gives the most arrogant little up-nod like, yeah. you’re next.

you try to act unaffected. fail immediately.

he saunters over, sudsy bucket in one hand, water dripping down his abs like it’s a fucking calvin klein ad. stops right in front of you, eyeing your car, then you, then your car again. “you the one drivin’ this piece of shit?”

you blink. “excuse me?!”

he shrugs but you can see a little grin tugging on the corner of his mouth, smug and unbothered. “relax. i’ll make it look brand new.”

he puts the bucket down, saunters over, and damn—he’s even hotter up close. tall. muscles for days. and that little scar on his cheek? unfair.

then, leaning closer, voice low: “the name's katsuki bakugo. what’s yours, sweet girl?”

you tell him. maybe a little breathless.

he repeats it once—slow, like he’s trying it out on his tongue. “hm. yeah. i like that.”

and then he goes to work. but not just on the car.

katsuki bakugo washes that car like he’s auditioning for the dirtiest boy band you’ve ever seen. dropping the sponge just to bend over in front of you, ass on full display. making eye contact when he slides his hand over the hood like he’s caressing it. watering himself down with a hose and shaking his hair out like he’s in a shampoo commercial from hell.

by the time he’s done, your car is sparkling. and so are you—flushed, flustered.

he tosses the sponge into the bucket, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and smirks. “lemme know if you need a private wash sometime.”

and then he walks away, with you watching the water dripping down the curve of his spine, no better than a teenage boy ogling the back of a girl's bikini. you swear you black out for a second too.

it’s only a few hours after the car wash before he slides in your dms, smooth but dirty. you’re in your room, still reeling from whatever the hell that was, when your phone buzzes.

king.explosionmurder has sent you a message.

(yeah. that’s his actual handle. because of course it is.) then, you open it.

king.explosionmurder:

can't stop thinking about the girl with the shittiest car and the cutest fuckin’ face.

you stare. then another message pops up.

king.explosionmurder:

u free tonight?

or maybe you're too busy being adorable somewhere else?

your heart does a thing. you type out a reply—something just barely cocky enough to match him:

you:

depends

you always this forward?

king.explosionmurder:

only for girls with shitty taste in cars

so, only you

let me buy you a drink, sweet girl?

you:

fine

you can buy me a drink, frat boy

but for the record?

my taste in cars is not that shitty

king.explosionmurder:

whatever you say beautiful

8 pm, sunset bar down 5th ave

don't be late

katsuki shows up five minutes early, in a black tee that clings to his chest and jeans that should be illegal. hair still messy from his post-car-wash shower. when you walk in, his eyes track you like you’re the only person in the room.

“tch. thought you were gonna flake.”

you roll your eyes. “you’d cry if i did.”

his mouth twitches. “like a damn baby.”

then the date just... hits different. it wasn't what you expected. sure, it’s packed with college students and frat bros, but in the back corner booth? with him?

it’s quiet. comfortable. almost… intimate.

he’s not much of a talker, but with you? he tries. you ask about his major—he’s an aspiring pro-hero, of course—and he asks about yours, grumbling when you light up talking about it, because “fuck, that smile’s gonna kill me.”

and even though he’d die before saying it out loud, the minute you take a sip of your drink and laugh at something dumb he says? he’s gone. head over heels.

he walks you back to your dorm with his hand on the small of your back, even though it’s barely a ten-minute walk. says “text me when you’re in” even though he literally watched you unlock your door. stands there, gruff and gorgeous, waiting.

“gonna invite me?” he asks, tone teasing.

you shake your head, grinning. “not on the first date, i'm not.”

he groans dramatically. “damn. fuckin’ killin’ me here.”

you grin. “goodnight, frat boy.”

but he doesn’t move right away.

just stands there under the warm porch light, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to work off the ache of not touching you again. his shirt clings to him in the summer heat, his jaw sharp in the glow, but it’s his eyes that freeze you in place.

not hard. not sharp. not the glare he usually levels at the world.

but soft. heavy. like you’ve stolen the breath from his lungs and he doesn’t even want it back.

he looks at you like you hung the damn moon.

he takes one small step closer, close enough that you can feel the heat coming off his chest, close enough that if either of you moved just an inch, you’d be kissing.

“goodnight, sweet girl,” he says, voice low and rough, like gravel laced with honey.

it hits you somewhere deep. like he’s branding the words into you.

and then—he actually smiles. a real one. lopsided, shy, the kind of smile you’d never expect from someone who threatens to body slam people over couch cushions.

then he turns and walks away, hands shoved deep in his pockets, head down, like if he looks back even once, he’ll do something stupid like run back and kiss you senseless.

you close the door behind you, heart thudding so hard you swear your roommate can hear it.

you’re screwed. so screwed.

because things after that? they move fast.

to everyone else, he was the guy who'd scream if you left dishes in the sink, throw a beer can at you if you sat on his side of the couch, and threaten to body slam you if you so much as breathe near him.

but the entire frat house knew that their loud, grumpy, terrifyingly efficient frat dad—had a soft spot the size of a planet. and that soft spot? was for you.

you’re the only person allowed in his room during his grumpy post-practice naps. the only one who can touch his hair without him flinching. he’d grumble when you flick his forehead when he was being dramatic but he'd let you.

he might curse under his breath, but when you’d slide onto his lap during movie night, he'd wrap an arm around you like it was instinct. like protecting you came as naturally as breathing.

he had snacks stocked in the mini fridge (not for him, you liked them). he hands you your favorite snack and grumbles, “was on sale. don’t get used to it,” even though it’s never on sale but he bought six of them anyway.

and when finals week hits? he’s a damn soldier for you.

caffeine runs. your favorite takeout. quiet growls at anyone who tries to talk to you in the library. he reads your flashcards like they’re enemy coordinates and quizzing you becomes his personal mission.

but the best part? the tiny, quiet moments in between.

like when he’s losing at mario kart and you’d sit in his lap while he played, steal his fries, kiss his cheek mid-rant just to shut him up.

or when you were too tired to walk back to your place, you just curl up in his bed. not only does he let you, he tucks the blanket around you and kisses your forehead so soft it makes your chest ache.

and somehow, all of that was like magic.

sure, he might’ve acted like the world’s most chaotic, aggressive frat president, but when it came to you? he was all bark, all bite… and all heart.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

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[3:05 a.m]

Pairing: Sunghoon x reader

“Come back to bed” a voice call out for you as you were watching the city that never sleeps through your hotel window. You turn to the source of the voice and smile at your newly wedded husband.

“Sunghoon, come on! We’re in New York!” You beam at him. You see him slipping out under the covers and walks to you sleepily. Arriving at you, sunghoon wraps his arm around your waist, head snuggling at the crook of your neck.

“Y/n, it’s literally 3 in the morning. We have a lot to do tomorrow too! I swear you gonna need your sleep” he mumbles through as he was snuggling by your neck. You slowly put your hands to cup his face and pull him to make him look at you. You stare in his sleepy eyes and smiles a bit. He looks so homey. You did a good job accepting his proposal. You kiss his lips and lead him back to bed. He lays on the bed while you put both of you under the covers. He pulled you closer and lay his head on your chest. You reply to his love but caressing his hand, lulling him to sleep.

As his breathing got slower, signalling he was asleep, you kept on thinking back all the memories you had with him. By any means, you will always choose him and him only.

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©️@/jyanisme

may this december be kind and warm to all of us. I know for some it's a tough month, but I hope we can find some comfort, even if it's in something super mundane as a bowl of warm soup or a cozy sweater that hasn't been worn in a while. enjoy the slow days and use them to rest! and if you can, please go on gloomy walks and eat something sweet ❄️🐻‍❄️🤍

ok I'm back while in the middle of rewatching S2 HAHEHQJWYSJ WHY AM I SO INTO THIS BYE⁉️

Anyway, let me just get this straight.. the faces are what mainly confuses me, so.. Go Younjung is Cho‐yeong/Mu‐deok, while Jung Somin is Jin Buyeon/Naksu ??? 😭😭😭 (these are the actresses of the two characs btw, the answers to these will probably help me a lot in S2 more since "Naksu's" face was now used for Jin Buyeon

Alchemy of Souls: Naksu's Memories of Her Father Being Killed Were Actually Mu Deok's Memories

Memories can be distorted in a variety of ways. They can also be used by someone like Jin Mu to carry out his nefarious plans.

So let's start with the story of two little girls, Mu Deok and Jin Bu Yeon whose souls were swapped by evil Jin Mu when they were children.

Mu Deok's Memories

Since you all wanted to know Mu Deok's backstory. Here it is! And no she's not Jin Bu Yeon.

Mu Deok was the constellation mage's daughter. One night, her maid found her and hid her in the a shed and told her to stay away from her father. She witnessed her father change into a soul shifter. Following this, she saw the four families kill her father. She was alone and scared, but a nice man approached her. His face looked kind so she decided to grab his hand and follow him.

Mu Deok lived in a shack by herself in Danhyaggot for years until one day the man with the nice face brought her a blind friend. The next thing she remembered she woke up and she couldn't see anymore. She was confused and didn't know where she was. When she asked around, people told her she was in Sari Village. She couldn't find the man with the nice face because she was blind now.

Later on, someone mentioned to her that her blindfold had the Jin family crest on it. She had remember that name. They were one of the four families that killed her dad. She thought it would be best to stay far away from these four families because they were scary (or Jin Mu fed Mu Deok some sort of lie that made her stay away). In the meantime, she decided to use the blindfold with the family crest to earn a living.

There you go folks. That is Mu Deok's story. This how Mu Deok was used in Jin Mu's plan. As sad as it may be, her soul was nothing special. You see if Mu Deok was Jin Bu Yeon, she would've have asked around for someone to take her back to the Jin family residence. People would've noticed the Jin family crest and be willing to help her because they knew the Jin's would've paid a nice reward for whoever returned their daughter. Except she didn't. She stayed away. This meant Mu Deok's soul was stuck in another person's body (Jin Bu Yeon's body).

Jin Bu Yeon/Naksu's Memories

What Jin Mu did to Jin Bu Yeon was much worse than what he did to Mu Deok. Jin Mu used Mu Deok's story to brainwash Jin Bu Yeon. He convinced Jin Bu Yeon she had a father who was a constellation mage and he was killed by the four families for no good reason. Jin Mu gave Jin Bu Yeon enough information to believe it was true, but left out important parts (i.e father was a soul shifter) so he could use her to carry out his evil plans (i.e killing the four families).

[Side note: Jin Mu either brainwashed Jin Bu Yeon or she developed amnesia after she fell off the boat.]

Jin Mu (or Fake Queen Choi) gave Jin Bu Yeon a new body/face so that no one could recognize her from the outside (i.e soul swap with Mu Deok). The last step to transform Jin Bu Yeon into the best assassin was to give her a new name and identity. This name was Naksu, the shadow assassin who made mages' head roll.

What Jin Mu did not account for is that Jin Bu Yeon/Naksu would cast the Alchemy of Souls spell the 2nd time thereby returning her to her original body.

How Jin Mu Ensured His Identity Remained a Secret

Out of the two girls (Jin Bu Yeon and Mu Deok), Mu Deok was the only one who saw Jin Mu's face. She was also the only one that saw her father turn into a soul shifter. Given this, Jin Mu had to make sure she would never recognize him or be able to find him. He accomplished this by swapping Mu Deok's soul into a blind girl's body (Jin Bu Yeon's body). This guaranteed that Mu Deok would never be able to find him because she couldn't see anymore.

On the other hand, Jin Bu Yeon/Naksu didn't know what Jin Mu looked like before the swap because she was blind. After he swapped Jin Bu Yeon/Naksu's soul into Mu Deok's body, he wore a black cloak when he was around her. He made sure she would never know what he looked like.

How Jin Mu's Lies Started to Be Uncovered

Despite Jin Mu's best effort to prevent Jin Bu Yeon/Naksu from finding out what he looked like, she eventually did. After Jin Bu Yeon/Naksu swapped back to her original body, she saw Gil Joo at the bidding house. Jin Bu Yeon/Naksu had recognized Gil Joo and followed him and this is how she discovered what Jin Mu looked like. Recall that Mu Deok was the only one who had seen Jin Mu's face when she was a child. Jin Bu Yeon/Naksu never saw Jin Mu's face.

In Ep 8, Gil Joo once again helped revealed more of Jin Mu's lies to Jin Bu Yeon/Naksu. Gil Joo had told her that her "father" was a soul shifter. This piece of information was something Jin Mu left out on purpose during Jin Bu Yeon's brainwashing story time. Remember that Mu Deok was the only one who saw her father turn into a soul shifter. Had Jin Bu Yeon/Naksu really been Mu Deok, she would've already known this fact since she saw it with her eyes and therefore would not be surprised.

my moon and stars.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, (tooth-rotting) fluff; even tho it's unedited this is still one of my favorite things that i've written on this blog so far !!! gaaaaaaah word count: 1.1k listen to 🎧: lover - taylor swift

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

nobody thought jeongin would be the next one to get married, but alas, here you are, at the reception of your friend's wedding, nursing a glass of champagne.

"come on," minho says, snatching the glass away from you and finishing the rest of it in one gulp, before he takes you by the hand and tugs you forward. "let’s go dance."

you can't even be annoyed that he basically just stole your drink. instead, you just laugh, and let the love of your life drag you to the dance floor.

he guides you to move in a slow rhythm, matching the tempo of the song that's playing in the background. it's a song that you would usually think is overrated and has been played to hell and back, but in the moment, drunk on the cozy atmosphere, you think it's nice. you briefly wonder what song you would choose for your first dance at your own wedding.

it's just a fleeting thought. you've been having those all day.

jeongin's wedding was beautiful. everything was done to perfection, and you have no doubt that most of it was overseen by his girlfriend.

nope, correction: she's his wife now.

nevertheless, you've been imagining yourself and minho in a similar setting. you in a stunning white dress. him, dashing in a classy suit. the two of you exchanging vows with teary eyes in front of your friends and families. the cats as ring bearers. sealing forever with a deep kiss and fond smiles.

as you continue to sway along to the music, you wrap your arms around minho's neck and pull him closer. there's something in the way that he's been treating you all day that makes you melt even more than it usually does. he's been more touchy; there's not a single moment where his hands aren't on your body in any way, whether it be a hand on your knee, on the small of your back, or an arm around your waist. minho isn't often overt with his affection like that; he tends to dote on you in the privacy of your own loving bubble, away from anyone and everyone.

then, there's the softness that he's looking at you with in his chocolate brown eyes. it's warm, saccharine; it makes you feel like you two are the only people left in the room even though this is supposed to be someone else's big day.

"i love you," he says suddenly, brushing his nose against yours before leaning in just a tad closer to your lips, "you mean the world to me."

it's rare for minho to say things like this out of the blue. he's a man of few words after all.

he's full of surprises today, it seems.

"what's the occasion?" you ask with a coy smile.

"no occasion. just wanted to tell you that."

you close the distance, pressing your lips against his as his arms wrap themselves tighter around your body. "i love you too," you smile against him.

he mirrors your smile, and kisses you deeper. he's so sweet today, so openly loving with you even as your friends around you watch on.

you have an inkling that maybe, just maybe, he's been thinking the same things as you.

you stay in each other's arms until the song ends, then another one, then a couple more, just basking in soothing glow of love that's covering the air tonight. minutes pass with kisses shared, until it's finally time for the bouquet toss.

minho reluctantly lets you leave his side for the first time since the morning. his eyes follow you as you move to the front of the room, standing a comfortable distance away from the bride. you've never really been interested in this kind of things anyway; you're just doing it for the sake of participation.

everyone else is engrossed in what's about to happen, their eyes fixed on the bride and the peonies in her hands, but minho is only focused on you. you, who's trying to blend in with the group of people and undoubtedly praying that the bouquet doesn't make its way into your hands. you, whom he thinks looks so beautiful, all dolled up for the special occasion. you, who made his heart stutter when you walked into the room in your pretty dress and flashed him a bashful smile. (but who is he kidding? you make his heart want to give out and run away every single morning when he wakes up and sees you peacefully sleeping in his arms.)

just you. always only you.

you, you, you.

you don't hang in the moon in the sky. you are the moon, you are the stars.

minho watches you watch the bride as she counts down from 3, then flings the bouquet up in the air while everyone waits with bated breath. it's a mess of flailing arms from what he can tell, a couple of the bridesmaids practically fighting each other to try and grab the damn thing.

you try to make yourself smaller, to duck lower so that the others could have the honor instead of you. but when the flowers come hurling toward you, you have no choice but to raise your hands and catch it, lest you want to be lobbed in the face with a bouquet of peonies.

some of the people around you sigh frustratedly, but most of the guys around minho suddenly burst into loud cheers. they clap him on the back and shake him by the shoulders but still, he remains transfixed on you and your adorable wide-eyed expression. your parted lips and doe eyes blinking fast as a rosy flush creeps up your skin.

your eyes find him in an instant, and you both just stare at each other for a moment. he reckons that you're trying to gauge his reaction, because the room is now filled with excited squeals of congratulations and half-hearted jokes of how you and minho are going to be the next ones to get hitched.

you look uncertain, still frozen in place with your hands clutching the peonies.

but then he just smiles, and it makes you smile too, your body immediately relaxing as you give him a wave using the bouquet, your shoulders slumping slightly when you release a sigh.

to minho, it doesn't matter whether you caught the flowers or not; neither of you believes in that kind of stuff anyway. it doesn't matter because he's always known that he was going to marry you, that there's no one else he would rather spend the rest of his life with.

it doesn't matter because unbeknownst to you, he's already got a velvet box hidden somewhere in your shared home, with a gorgeous diamond ring inside just waiting for the day it can be put on your finger.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.01.2024]

enhypen; how they’re protective over you

ot7 x reader | fluff/comfort | how they’re protective over you | tw: implied past sexual harassment, some violence

heeseung;

heeseung is always incredibly aware of your sensitivity and emotional state

so his protectiveness mostly comes in the form of protecting your happiness and joy

if he knows that somebody who’s judgmental of you or gives you anxiety is around, he’ll immediately try to distract you

he’ll make you face him; he’ll put a finger under your chin and make a silly face or crack a stupid joke, and you’ll be so entertained (or confused) by his antics that you won’t even notice the girl who hates you just walked in the room

“what are you doing? there’s people…” you breathed as heeseung held your chin, his face far too close to yours considering the fact that you were sitting with him on the set of a photo shoot where several other people were working

in reality, as soon as heeseung noticed the makeup artist who insulted you to your face, he instantly remembered how she made you cry last week and couldn’t stand the idea of having to see you hurt again

he focused all his anger towards her into love and care for you, which definitely pissed her off; not that either of you noticed anymore.

he focused all his anger towards her into love and care for you, which definitely pissed her off; not that either of you noticed anymore.

“how do you know i’m not a robot too?” you asked.

“hmmm…” heeseung pulled your face even closer to his so that your foreheads were touching.

“heeseung!” you giggled quietly, as if you were reprimanding him for the PDA that made you shy, but the hand you brought up to his neck said otherwise.

the makeup artist who insulted you had left the area by then, hating to see you look so happy and in love, and the director of the photo shoot had just called heeseung over.

“you’re too pretty to be a robot.” he declared, as if that made absolute sense, kissing your cheek before getting up to get back to the photoshoot, “coming!” leaving you blushing in your seat.

sometimes, if he can, he’ll try resolving conflicts so that you don’t have to.

even though he knows you’re better at arguing than him or more persuasive than him.

if he knows the friend who’s not agreeing with you, he’ll offer to talk to them so you don’t have to.

even if you say no he’s probably going to act so different around that friend or vaguely mention that you were trying to do the right thing to where they would know he’s on your side anyway, always.

jay;

if you asked jay if he was protective over you, he would probably say something like, “yeah, sure.”

but if you asked anyone else who knew him, it would be an ABSOLUTELY!!!

it’s second nature to jay to physically protect you.

whether that be through standing on the outside of the sidewalk so you’re not too close to the street;

or literally feeding you food from his chopsticks when he feels like you didn’t eat enough;

it’s so natural for him to be close to you and nurture you that he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing when he gets up just to move his chair at the restaurant next to yours.

“yah! she’s not gonna run away from you!” sunghoon teases him from across the table.

you laugh and jay’s just like ? “why would she run away from me?”

“you didn’t need to move your chair so much closer to hers.” sunoo laughs too.

jay just shrugs, “she was too far. right babe?” he turns to look at you, placing his hand on your thigh under the table and caressing it, like he always does.

you smile and resist the urge to kiss him. “right, baby.”

despite the fact that he should be grateful you didn’t kiss jay on the spot, sunoo cringes at how adorable and smiley you two are, right in front of his salad. “eww…”

jake;

jake is such a loyal guardian puppy boy that he’s always being protective over you in the way he hovers.

because creeps don’t even want to think about approaching you when jake is always touching or holding you somehow, hanging onto every word you say and laughing a little too hard at your half-assed jokes.

but if you’re feeling upset or sick, and jake can’t necessarily be bright and giggly, you’ll notice the intensity of his love for you and the protectiveness that follows.

even though he knows and loves the fact that you can take care of yourself, you won’t be lifting a finger as long as he can help it.

usually you’d go visit him at the dorm late at night when he’s finally free from his schedule, waiting on the couch with whoever else was there until he appeared

but if you had just been released from surgery, jake expected you to be knocked out at home and was planning on going to visit you instead.

“ahhh!!” jake practically screamed when he saw you chilling on the couch with jungwon, as if there weren’t a 8% chance you wouldn’t have survived the surgery (you tried to tell him it was a tiny number, but that didn’t stop him from freaking out). “what are you doing here?!”

“nice to see you too,” you laughed.

“oh my-“ jake rushed over and grabbed your face, kissing your forehead quickly, “god, baby, you should be lying down.” he kept kissing all over your face, overwhelmed with how incredibly relieved and concerned he felt at the same time.

“i feel fine!” you laughed, long and slow, and jake noticed something was off. “i’m still under some anesthesia sooo…” you tried to reassure him, but it only sent him into overdrive.

in no time, jake carried you off the couch, kicked his roommate out, lay you down on his bed, fed you dinner you both didn’t even realize he was capable of making, and gave you a massage until you fell asleep.

he continued squeezing and kissing your shoulders even after you were asleep, glasses on and phone in hand as he googled the best way to take care of someone who had just gone through your surgery.

because if you weren’t going to be gentle with yourself, at least he was going to be.

and god help anyone who tried to enter the room or be louder than a single decibel…

sunghoon;

sunghoon is a free-spirited person, a free-spirited friend, and a free-spirited lover. he has always been independent and loved your independence as well

which is why it was shocking to see the way a switch flipped in him whenever he sensed you were uncomfortable, or in danger

“what is it?” sunghoon asked worriedly, as he saw you frown over your phone for what felt like the 100th time that day

“it’s just… you remember what I told you about that guy from class?”

“is he bothering you?” the stern tone he asked this with alone made you feel protected

he rubbed your back soothingly as he took your phone from your hand, scrolling through hundreds of creepy messages from the classmate who had been harassing you

when his caller id appeared, sunghoon didn’t even think twice before answering, “hello.”

“did you change your voice?” the boy stupidly asked. “i know this is your number. you can’t hide.”

hearing that pissed sunghoon off so much. he couldn’t stand knowing that someone was stalking you to where you felt fear, and like you couldn’t escape them.

sunghoon would do anything to make sure you always felt safe, which was part of why he immediately got up and stepped outside to finish the phone call, not wanting you to hear the aggression in his tone.

you would never find out what sunghoon had said to him. he didn’t want you to know— that’s just how he rolled. all you knew was that whatever he had said was so powerful that you never saw the boy ever again. anywhere. he had even dropped out of school.

“please tell me if anyone ever causes you trouble, okay?” sunghoon made you promise.

jungwon;

jungwon is someone who greatly appreciates things like manners and propriety, which is why it was almost amusing to witness him throw all respect for someone out the window the moment they hurt you.

“you’re not sitting there.” jungwon said to the man who had taken a seat on the opposite side of you in the waiting room of a music show. jungwon knew he was pushing it by saying that to someone older than him, who he worked with, but he didn’t really give a shit if he knew they were scaring you.

“excuse me?” the man asked. “who are you to tell me where to sit?”

jungwon was incredibly rarely the type to do any form of PDA, but he instinctually wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his chest.

“who are you to be a creep towards every girl you work with?” he retorted without hesitation.

the man had no choice but to grumble and leave, knowing it wasn’t a good idea to piss off the leader of the group he was working with, but little did he know it was wayyy too late. jungwon decided right then and there that the man was done.

you were so afraid of the man that you were still shaking after he got up and left, and jungwon was surprised by the intensity of your reaction. it broke his heart and made him tear up a little as he held you. he had a feeling you didn’t feel comfortable telling him the full reason why the man scared you, but he never pushed you to tell him.

jungwon rubbed his hand up and down your arm, pressing a long kiss to your hair and whispering, “you’re okay, i’m here,” until you stopped shaking.

he did not hesitate to get that man fired with his leader card the second he had the chance to speak to the managers, to say the least.

sunoo;

sunoo can and will end a motherfucker for you.

he’s not afraid to speak his mind, but especially when it comes to you.

however, his first priority is to validate you and wipe that frown off your face.

you sat across him at a cafe explaining what your so-called friend had said about you with tears streaming down your face, and sunoo was nothing but gentle as he squeezed both your hands in his, thoroughly listening to every word you said

“i’m so sorry he said that to you. you’re amazing and he’s stupid.” sunoo’s praise of you and insults of your ex-friend made you laugh. “he wouldn’t know how to do your job even if he had five years of experience. he’s an idiot. and he looks like squidward.”

you giggled. “he does kind of look like squidward…”

sunoo reached up to wipe your tears away with his thumb, pausing a bit to stare at you. “ugh. he wishes he had even 2% of your beauty.” he was being sassy, but he meant it.

you laughed again, forgetting all about your ex-friend the more you hung out with sunoo

and if you let him, sunoo would lovee to say all those things to that guy’s face. but only if you let him. (please let him.)

niki;

niki can be compulsive when it comes to you

as opposed to sunoo, who wouldn’t say anything unless you let him, niki will be throwing hands as soon as he finds out something happened to you.

okay, maybe he won’t always literally fight someone, but he will not think twice about confronting your manager himself if he notices you’re being overworked, or telling your friends their offensive jokes aren’t fucking funny.

he’ll even tell his own friends that, and he won’t care if they’re older than him if they’re talking shit about you.

“hey, stop talking about her like that.” niki said, the second he heard some trainee friends having the audacity to objectify and complain about you in the same sentence. “that’s my girlfriend.”

“and? your girlfriend’s hot, but she’s a fucking bitch sometimes.”

they should NOT have said that.

if jay hadn’t entered the room moments later, it would have been a lot more difficult for him to lie to you about his knuckles being red from exercising with a punching bag.

you didn’t even know niki wasn’t friends with those guys anymore until you saw them on the street a couple months later.

you pointed at them openly, “hey, isn’t that—“

niki grabbed the hand you were pointing with. “don’t point at people, it’s rude.”

“but aren’t those your friends?”

“no.” as they got closer, niki glared at them and subconsciously squeezed your hand tighter.

for a moment, his jaw had set, he started seeing red again as he remembered what they said about you, and he genuinely thought about hurting them again until—

“ow, hey, you’re gonna crush my fingers!”

niki was so angry that he didn’t realize how hard he was squeezing your hand. he immediately turned to you and brought your hand up to his lips. “i’m sorry.”

you paused a bit, stunned by how unlike himself he was being “it’s… okay…”

niki pat your head, deciding then and there that he not only had to protect you from other people, but from himself, as well

you reached me all right. while I reached mY LAST STRAW */sobs

i hope i reached you

엔하이픈 박종성 + femreader ? fluff && est. r.s w ﹒ no proofread, kissing && skin ship word count ✢ 651 ⠀⠀ ੭୧ ⠀⠀ ( bookshelf ) !

notes. because i have been obsessed with this man lately!! ₍˄·͈༝·͈˄₎

hugs you from behind and let you both fall on the bed. his strong arms holding you close you himself as you continue to watch whatever you we watching on your phone. you don't yelp in surprise anymore, as it's not the first time he does it and certainly not the last. he puts his chin on your shoulder and watches your phone.

stalks you pinterest boards. begged you to give you your pinterest "just because", then weirdly he started to buy you everything that was on your wishlist. you complain everytime that it's an unrealistic wishlist for a reason and that a girl must dream to keep living ─ he doesn't care, he loves seeing you happy.

while teaching you the guitar, he would often be closer to you than necessary. his hands moving smoothly to your arm to your hands, caressing your fingers to "help you have the better position"

buys a matching ring set for he both of you when he asks you to be ─ officially ─ his girlfriend. he would be super nervous that day even though he organized everything. he even made your favorite dish for the diner. the look on his face made you think he was planning on telling you he was dying or something.

he put the ring around your finger so softly it made you heart swell. the music in the background made the scene feel as if it was a wedding, the fact he put it on your ring finger didn't help. he buys a new one every year on your anniversary. it's important to him, to let everyone know silently that he someone already owns his heart.

has that habit of constantly having his hand on your lower back. it can be at the restaurant, while eating dinner with your friend and your chairs are beside each other or when you are walking on the streets.

is really serious about the going in dates thing. needs to have a date with you at least every month, every week if you don't have tight schedules. dramatically puts a hand over is heart every time he sees you in your date outfit for the first time.

likes to give you pecks while he talks. first, he will tuck your hair behind your ear while he talks to you, holding eye contact. then starts pecking your lips between every two words. does this mainly when he wants to reassure you.

loves to go shopping with you and choosing items that goes with together for the both of you. it doesn't have to be necessarily the same color but the same vibe, something that just complets each other. for instance, sage green and brown.

leaves notes on your nightstand when he has to leave early. it isn't related to your day or the day before, it's just to remind you that he loves you ─ since he isn't here to do it :

"everything is so much softer and so much sweeter with you."

leaves soft kisses on your forehead while you are falling asleep. you know. when your head is on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. he removes some hair from your forehead and gives tender pecks on it.

jay has that comforting aura when he hugs you. it's reassuring and nostalgic. it feels as if you are a kind again, in you bed sheets, feeling safe as you are surrounded by you favorite plushies. soft and warm.

"you deserve all the love i have inside of me." he whispers in your ear ─ you can only hum at his sweet words, your nose is in the crook of his neck. jay rubs your back gently, until you let yourself fall asleep.

taglist open ❕ @manooffline @ibsysbsfsunsbs @j1nniee @lilriswife4life network @kflixnet @k-films @/k-labels

I can't believe I read this first thing as I opened this app 😭 This was cute and funny, though (this just validated my fear of pregnancy–still hell no to this and hell yeah to being single and non‐pregnant ¿ 🙏). Super love u, Daichi 😭🤍

Pregnancy: Daichi (NSFW)

You were officially forty-one weeks pregnant.

Forty-one weeks. Not thirty-nine. Not even the neat, ominous weight of forty. No, you had blown straight past your due date like a train with no brakes and were now living in the swollen purgatory of maternity hell—bloated, achy, short-tempered, and so fed up with your body that you would’ve gladly traded it in for a paper bag and a nap.

Your body ached in places you didn’t know could ache. Your back felt like it had been used as a trampoline in the night. Your hips were stiff. Your feet looked like they belonged to someone who’d spent ten hours standing in a swamp. And your belly? Your belly felt like it had become its own planet, stretching your skin so taut you were convinced you could drum a beat on it.

Nothing fit anymore. Not your clothes. Not your shoes. Not even your own skin, if you were honest. Your maternity leggings had officially waved the white flag. Your bras were lost causes. Your wedding rings had been stashed in a drawer weeks ago, too tight to slide over even a knuckle. And the seatbelt? Daichi had to adjust it for you now, like you were precious cargo—though to be fair, at this point, you basically were. He was careful and considerate and just a little too cheerful about it all, which made it even more infuriating.

“Got everything?” he asked softly, adjusting the strap of your maternity bag over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

You didn’t look at him. You didn’t smile. You didn’t even grunt. You groaned—a long, low, theatrical sound of suffering as you slowly lowered yourself into the passenger seat like an elephant easing into a beanbag chair.

He took it in stride. He’d stopped taking anything personally around week thirty-seven.

Still, he reached across and placed his warm palm on your thigh once you were settled, rubbing his thumb in slow, steady circles. You didn’t push it away. You rested your hand on top of his and gave him a tired look that said, If I have to live in this body one more day, I will cry.

The car ride to the clinic was mostly quiet. You sighed a lot. Adjusted the air vents. Rolled down the window. Rolled it back up. Turned the A/C colder. Then warmer. Daichi drove patiently, sneaking occasional glances at you like he wanted to say something encouraging but also very much wanted to survive the day.

The clinic’s waiting room was somehow worse than usual. The chairs were uncomfortable, the light was too bright, and the cheerful wall art—baby elephants, pastel hearts, encouraging quotes in cursive—made you want to scream. You stared at the pamphlet beside you titled “Smiling Through the Third Trimester” with a level of disdain typically reserved for war crimes.

Daichi sat beside you flipping through a magazine that he absolutely wasn’t reading, occasionally peeking at you with quiet concern while trying not to make eye contact with the receptionist, who kept looking at you like you were a ticking time bomb.

When the nurse finally called your name, you heaved yourself up with a groan and waddled toward the hallway like a warrior going into battle. Daichi followed at a polite distance, like a man who knew better than to walk too close to a woman this pregnant and this pissed.

The exam room felt like a refrigerator. You plopped down on the crinkly paper with another long sigh, then glared at the stirrups like they’d personally wronged you. Daichi sat in the chair next to the table and gently rubbed your back, his thumb tracing light circles over your spine.

“Almost there,” he murmured, ever the optimist. “Just hang in a little longer.”

You turned your head to him, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and fury. “I swear to god, Daichi. If one more person tells me I’m almost there, I will throw something. Possibly this table. Possibly you.”

He only smiled through it, squeezing your hand like he hadn’t just been threatened with airborne furniture.

When the doctor entered, she was all serene smiles and clinical calm, her tone chipper and maddeningly upbeat.

“Well,” she said after a quick check, “good news is you’re making progress. The baby’s definitely settling into position. But you’re still not quite there yet. I’d give it another few days.”

You stared at her like she’d just told you the world had been cancelled.

“More days?” you repeated, your voice a cracked whisper. “As in, plural? Like… multiple?”

The doctor gave a warm little chuckle. “It’s different for everyone, but yes, could be a few more. You’re doing great, though.”

Your jaw dropped. You made a noise that was somewhere between a sob and a scream, your hands clenching the edge of the table like it might steady you.

The doctor handed Daichi a brightly colored handout titled “Natural Ways to Encourage Labor.” It had illustrations of smiling pregnant women doing yoga and eating pineapple.

“Try some of these at home,” she said kindly. “Spicy food, gentle movement, maybe a warm bath. You’re almost there.”

Daichi nodded like the polite, helpful husband he was, tucking the paper into your maternity bag as you stood slowly, moving with the weary determination of someone who had carried life for too damn long.

The walk back to the car was slow and tense. You didn’t speak. You didn’t look at anyone. The receptionist offered a cheery “Good luck!” as you left and you very nearly flipped her off.

When Daichi helped you into the car again and got you buckled in, you exhaled long and hard, the sound more like a groan of existential dread than a sigh.

“I’m going to die pregnant,” you said flatly, head tipping back against the seat as your eyes glazed over. “This is it. This is how it ends for me. Swollen and sweaty in the passenger seat of a Toyota.”

“No, you’re not,” he said gently, lips twitching as he reached over to adjust your seatbelt one last time. “You’re going to give birth soon, and then this will all feel like a weird dream.”

You turned your head just enough to shoot him a dry look. “A weird dream where my hips feel like they’re being sawed in half and I haven’t seen my own feet in two months?”

He chuckled under his breath, brushing your hair out of your face. “I’m just saying, you’re doing amazing.”

“Don’t lie to me,” you snapped, though your voice lacked real venom. “I look like a pufferfish and I cry every time I drop something on the floor because I can’t pick it up anymore.”

“I pick it up for you,” he said, unbothered.

“Yeah, and I still cry!” You groaned louder, tossing your head back again. “I’m like a feral raccoon in maternity leggings. I can’t keep living like this.”

“You’re not a raccoon,” he said with a straight face. “You’re majestic. Fearsome. A hormonal goddess.”

You snorted so hard it startled a hiccup out of you. “Oh my god.”

“And soon,” he added, leaning closer to kiss your temple, “you’ll be holding the baby and none of this will matter.”

You didn’t move. You just stared up at the ceiling.

“Watch me die pregnant,” you said again. “They’ll write it on my tombstone.”

--

By the time you made it home, your mood had not improved. You kicked your shoes off at the door, grumbling as you peeled off your coat and waddled into the kitchen, leaving Daichi to trail behind you, pamphlet in hand and hope still stubbornly etched into his expression.

“Okay,” he said as you slumped down at the kitchen table, head in your hands. “Let’s try some of these. Worst case, they don’t work. Best case? Maybe we’ll get things moving.”

You didn’t respond right away. Just groaned into your palms.

He set the paper down gently in front of you. “It says spicy food might help. We could start there?”

You looked up with bloodshot eyes. “I want something violent. Like pepper-spray levels of spice.”

Daichi raised his eyebrows. “I’ve got extra hot chili ramen packets. You could probably weaponize them.”

“Perfect,” you growled. “Boil ‘em.”

Ten minutes later, you were perched on the couch with a bowl of nuclear noodles while Daichi sat beside you with his own, bravely taking a bite. He lasted all of three seconds before coughing into his fist, eyes watering.

“Oh my god—this hurts,” he rasped.

You, completely unaffected, slurped up another bite. “Nothing. Not even a twinge.”

He blinked at you, face red. “I’m going to need milk. And possibly CPR.”

You sighed and set the bowl aside. “Next idea.”

And so began the ridiculous journey.

You drank herbal teas that smelled like dirt and despair. You choked down thick slices of pineapple while muttering curses under your breath. You did the hip-opening stretches the pamphlet suggested, groaning with effort and telling Daichi that if this didn’t work you were going to shove a yoga ball down the stairs. He helped you do slow laps around the living room, hand on your lower back while you walked in increasingly impatient circles.

You even tried the dreaded castor oil. One teaspoon. Two. Mixed into orange juice so it wouldn’t taste like paint thinner. You gagged, glared, and gagged again. Daichi looked horrified but held the glass steady like he was assisting with a medical emergency.

Hours passed. The sun dipped lower in the sky. You had tried every single item on the pamphlet short of hiring a witch to chant over your uterus. And yet—nothing. No contractions. No discomfort. No sign the baby had any plans of evacuating. Just the same heavy weight in your belly and the constant ache of your ribs.

You threw yourself back onto the couch with a long, miserable sigh, your belly rising and falling like a dramatic mountain of defeat.

“This baby,” you declared, voice scratchy with exhaustion, “is never coming out. This is it. They’ve made a permanent home. They’re going to graduate college still inside me.”

Daichi, kneeling next to the couch, chuckled softly and leaned over to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Can you blame them?” he murmured. “You’ve made them a pretty amazing home.”

You blinked at him, half-touched and half-annoyed. “That’s not helpful.”

He grinned and sat back on his heels, picking the pamphlet up again with exaggerated patience. “Well, if they’re not leaving on their own, we’re gonna have to evict them.”

You groaned dramatically. “We’ve tried everything. I’ve eaten enough pineapple to singlehandedly wipe out Hawaii’s exports. I drank that weird tea that tastes like boiled weeds. I took castor oil, Daichi. Castor. Oil. Nothing works.”

He hummed, eyes skimming down the page.

Then he paused.

You watched as his brow arched just slightly.

“…What?” you said slowly.

He cleared his throat. “Well, technically… we haven’t tried everything.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean?”

He turned the pamphlet toward you and pointed at a single line with a very straight face.

“Intercourse may help induce labor.”

You stared. Then looked at him. Then back at the pamphlet.

Your eyes narrowed, your lips pressing into a line as the wheels in your head began to turn. For a long moment, you didn’t say a word. But something changed—visibly, unmistakably. Your posture shifted. Your breath stilled. Your entire demeanor settled into something focused, determined, just a little bit unhinged.

Daichi saw it immediately. He watched the transformation like someone witnessing a weather shift, like a man who’d seen the sky turn before a storm. His back straightened. His eyes went wide. He held up one hand as if you were a wild animal and he needed to de-escalate the situation.

“Babe—let’s just think this through—”

You sat up slowly. Deliberately. Every movement a signal.

Your voice dropped, calm but commanding, your eyes locked on his.

“…Get upstairs.”

Daichi followed you up the stairs like a man walking toward something both holy and terrifying.

You didn’t speak. Just kept your back straight, your breath steady, your feet deliberate on the steps. Every part of you radiated heat—rage, desperation, need. By the time you reached the bedroom, you were already tugging off your shirt, grumbling under your breath as it got stuck around your chest. You were a force of nature, belly full and breasts heavy, skin flushed with exertion and irritation.

“Help me,” you snapped, voice breathless.

Daichi was at your side in a second, pulling the fabric over your head, his hands lingering for just a second too long on the bare curve of your shoulder. It had been a while since the two of you had made love—between the fatigue, the constant discomfort, and the way your body had become less your own and more a vessel of life, intimacy had taken a quiet backseat. You missed it. Missed him. And he missed you—his touch tentative and reverent, like he was savoring the moment as much as you were. You turned to him, eyes burning.

“This baby is coming out tonight,” you said, voice low and deadly serious. “So get on the bed.”

He hesitated—not because he didn’t want to. He wanted to. God, did he want to. But his eyes kept flicking to your belly, the way it rounded out so full and taut, the faint sheen of sweat already glistening along your collarbone.

“Are you sure?” he asked, hand resting against your waist, careful and reverent. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you said, grabbing him by the wrist and guiding him toward the mattress. “And if you do, I won’t care. I need this.”

He let out a shaky breath as you pushed him down onto the bed and climbed over him. The tension between you was thick, every inch of skin electric. Months of abstaining made everything heightened—your nerves tingled where his fingers grazed your hips, and his breathing hitched every time you shifted above him. His hands went instinctively to your thighs as you straddled him, palms warm and wide and trembling just slightly.

You leaned down to kiss him, hard and fast, teeth scraping his bottom lip as you ground your hips against his crotch. He gasped, his body already responding beneath you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Good,” you muttered, dragging your fingers down his chest. “Then we’ll die together.”

He chuckled breathlessly, then hooked his fingers in your waistband, easing your underwear off your hips with slow, reverent care. When he touched you, his fingertips sliding through the wet heat between your thighs, he exhaled like he was in awe.

“You’re soaked,” he whispered, voice tight, eyes dark with restraint.

“I’m ready,” you breathed, rolling your hips into his touch.

He didn’t argue. He pushed his boxers down and kicked them off, his cock thick and flushed against his stomach. He gripped it at the base, ready to guide himself in, but you brushed his hand aside and positioned yourself with shaking thighs.

“Let me,” you murmured.

And then you sank down, slow and deep, the stretch sharp enough to make you gasp. Your hands clutched his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin as you took him all the way in, inch by aching inch.

Daichi groaned, low and guttural, his head tipping back against the pillows. “Jesus, you’re so tight—fuck—”

You paused, hips resting flush against his, just breathing. The fullness was overwhelming, perfect, exactly what you needed.

When you started to move, it was unhurried. The sensitivity of not having touched like this in weeks made every motion feel magnified—every grind, every squeeze, every brush of skin set fire to your nerves. You both gasped more than once, surprised by how much you'd missed this, missed each other. Deep, rolling thrusts that had you grinding down with every motion, drawing small sounds from your throat as your body adjusted to the rhythm.

Daichi’s hands moved to your waist, holding you steady, thumbs stroking gentle circles along your skin.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice shaky. “You’re carrying our baby, and you still want me like this?”

“I don’t want you,” you corrected breathlessly. “I need you.”

Your pace picked up, just slightly, each roll of your hips drawing gasps from both of you. The bed creaked under the rhythm, your swollen belly brushing against his chest every time you leaned in to kiss him, desperate and messy and aching.

He slid one hand up to cup your breast, thumbing over your nipple until you arched into him. Your moan was sharp, needy, your body clenching tight around him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, fingers tightening on your hip. “You’re so—god, you feel so good.”

You chased the friction, riding him harder, faster, the pressure building between your legs in thick, pulsing waves. He met your thrusts now, his hips lifting off the bed, his face buried against your neck as he groaned into your skin.

When your orgasm hit, it slammed through you like a tidal wave, your body locking up around him as you gasped his name, trembling all over. He held you through it, rocking you gently, murmuring praise into your shoulder until your shudders turned to aftershocks.

Then he flipped you gently onto your back, careful with your belly, bracing himself above you as he drove into you with long, deep strokes, chasing his own edge.

You watched him through hooded eyes, heart racing, mouth parted in a soft, dazed smile. He looked wrecked—sweat-damp hair, flushed cheeks, jaw clenched with restraint as he fucked you slow and deep.

“I’m close,” he warned, voice fraying. 

You cupped his face, nodding, heart still thudding from your own climax. “It’s okay. Come inside me. I want to feel you.”

With a broken sound, he buried himself to the hilt, groaning your name as he came, thick pulses filling you, his body trembling with release. You wrapped your arms around him as he collapsed slowly beside you, one arm still curled protectively across your middle, his breath hot against your shoulder.

Neither of you said anything for a long while. The room was warm and quiet, filled only with the soft sounds of your breathing. His hand smoothed over your belly, the rise and fall of it still unsteady. You were both flushed, glistening with sweat, chests heaving.

You turned your head toward him slightly, letting out a huff of a laugh. “Well… at least I feel better.”

Daichi huffed a laugh, his voice still rough. “Honestly? Same. Not sure if we jumpstarted labor or just obliterated our spines, though.”

You both lay there for a beat longer, catching your breath, limbs tangled, and the faint hum of calm settling over you.

Eventually, you shifted, groaning softly as you sat up on your elbows. “Okay,” you said, voice still breathy, “I should probably clean up—”

And then it happened.

A sudden, warm rush.

You blinked. Froze. Looked down.

“…Oh my god,” you whispered. “Daichi.”

He sat up slowly, still half-lost in the afterglow. “Hmm?”

You stared at the sheets beneath you, soaked through in a way that was definitely not from sex.

“My water broke,” you said, blinking again. The shock in your voice cut through the air.

Daichi’s head snapped toward you.

“My water broke,” you repeated, louder this time, voice rising in panic. “Daichi, my fucking water broke.”

The adrenaline that had left your limbs warm and loose now twisted into pure, electric panic.

He was moving before you could spiral further, sitting up and cupping your face with both hands.

“Hey, hey—look at me,” he said quickly, steadying your breathing with his voice. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

You nodded, dazed, still processing the rush of adrenaline and disbelief. Just moments ago, you had been begging for something to happen—for anything to finally signal the end. And now that it had, now that it was really happening, your heart felt like it might explode with the sheer weight of it. You had wanted this so badly. You had cursed the waiting. And yet now, the second it arrived, you were caught somewhere between terror and awe.

“I wanted this,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “I wanted this to happen.”

Daichi brushed a strand of damp hair away from your face, smiling warmly. “You did. And now it’s happening.”

You exhaled a shaky laugh, voice cracking. “I’m terrified.”

“I know,” he said, cupping your cheek with a hand as steady as his voice. “Me too. But we’re ready. You’re ready.”

You nodded again, tears welling in your eyes, this time from joy—not just from fear or exhaustion. You were going to meet your baby. Tonight. Maybe in just a few hours.

Daichi pressed a kiss to your forehead before swinging his legs off the bed, already grabbing the overnight bag he had packed and repacked a dozen times.

“Let’s go meet our baby,” he said, voice warm and certain.

And this time, you smiled through the chaos. Because it was finally happening—and you weren’t doing it alone.

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