𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

07 | she/her

[rikimuse]

big girls don't cry

(☆) for nishimura riki [mostly]

herro tumblr i write sometimes hopefully somebody gaf ab my silly drabbles. feel free to send asks ><

i miiight also write for idols in my stan list as well as marvel characters (?)

stan list + biases

- enhypen (ni-ki, jungwon)

- bts (jungkook, yoongi)

- stray kids (seungmin, hyunjin, han)

- le sserafim (kazuha, chaewon)

- cortis (martin, seonghyeon)

[rikimuse]

the concept of engene's man having to apologize for saying engene

[rikimuse]

you can tell when fics are directly copy pasted from chat gpt

[all4yoi]

𝓟retty snow, pretty boy

dad!jake x fem!reader. . !! cw : 1.4k wc, fluff ! idt theres anyth else, lmk if i missed something! not proofread

wherein, jake is the best husband, giving you the life you once only dreamed of as a child and, of course, the prettiest son ever!

notes, idk shi about making a snowman and if a four yr old can do it alone so lets js not mention it and enjoy the story yes? if im going to have a child i want them to be as cute as litol jake 🤏

enjoyed this? then you might like.. The Daddy Diaries! | MASTERLIST

You loved your husband, Jake. The way he had taken care of you from the very start, giving you a perfect life where you didn't have to worry about anything—and most importantly, the greatest thing he had ever given you..

A very adorable and beautiful son.

He was the carbon copy of his father—the fluff in his hair, the shape of his eyes, the already prominent bridge of his nose, and your favorite of all, his cute little plump lips.

It didn't just end with his physical looks, he had taken after his father's personality as well. The genuineness to the giddiness over the smallest things? All Jake. Sometimes you wondered if there was even a hint of you in him. Nonetheless, having a small Jake running around the house? You weren't complaining.

Yunjae stood in front of you, his pink bottom lip jutted out as he watched you patiently pull out a beanie to complete his look. The toddler had woken you up before the sun had even risen, mumbling about playing in the snow with Layla.

So here you were, dressing your four year old son for the cold winter weather. You gently placed the beanie over his head, making sure it covered even his little ears. Yunjae only stared at you before shifting his gaze over your shoulder, landing on the figure still buried beneath the thick blankets.

"Will dada come with?" he asked softly, biting his bottom lip the same way Jake did whenever he wasn't sure if what he was saying was right.

You glanced back at your still sleeping husband, who had come home late last night due to his packed schedule. Turning back to your son, you gently brushed the bangs peeking out from his beanie.

"When he wakes up, darling," you said softly. "Dad's very tired."

Yunjae merely nodded, solemn, as if having fun in the snow was somehow wrong without his father. You stood up with a soft grunt, extending your hand toward your toddler.

"Let's go, buddy."

Yunjae hesitated for a second before slipping his tiny hand into yours, his fingers curling around yours like he was anchoring himself. His grip was warm despite the cold creeping in from the windows.

"Okay.." he murmured, though his eyes flickered back to the bed one last time.

You noticed it, of course you did. Yunjae adored his father—everything felt a little less exciting if Jake wasn't there to witness it.

-

Outside, in front of the house, Yunjae ran around in the snow with Layla, his soft giggles echoing through the quiet neighborhood, accompanied only by the occasional whisper of the wind and the dog's panting.

You sat on the porch steps, a mug of hot chocolate clutched in your freezing hands as you watched your son fondly. When Layla suddenly tackled the toddler into the snow, you felt a presence settle beside you—your husband, dressed in nothing but a shirt and sweatpants, curling up next to you.

"It's snowing, Jake. What the hell are you wearing?" you muttered, setting your mug down before taking his hand in yours. He stayed silent, only leaning closer, curling further into you for warmth.

Jake's eyes remained on Yunjae, who was laughing as he tried to push Layla away, the dog jumped back and barked in glee. Yunjae sat up, snow dusting his beanie, his nose—identical to Jake's—red from the cold.

"Dada!"

Yunjae shot up, running straight toward his father and throwing his snow covered arms around him. Jake let out a soft groan, laughing sleepily as he hugged his son back despite the cold seeping through his clothes.

You tutted softly, brushing the snow off Yunjae's eyelashes.

"I'll make a snowman, watch me!" Yunjae beamed, pulling away before either of you could respond, already rolling a small mound of snow across the ground.

Taking the chance, Jake scooted closer, slipping his arms beneath your blanket before burying his face into the crook of your neck. You let out a small flinch at the cold but quickly relaxed, welcoming him into your warmth.

"You'll catch a cold," you whispered, your voice gentle as the two of you watched your son fondly, now focused on rolling the snow for his snowman's torso.

"'M lazy," he drawled, a quiet laugh escaping him when Layla suddenly jumped onto the snow Yunjae was rolling, the toddler squealing in surprise before bursting into giggles.

"You know," you began, gently rubbing circles over Jake's arm wrapped around you.

He hummed softly.

"I have the prettiest son, thanks to you."

Jake huffed out a quiet laugh against your skin, his breath still cold as it brushed your neck.

"Yeah?" he murmured, voice low and still a little rough from sleep. His arm tightened slightly around you, pulling you closer beneath the blanket.

"I think he gets that from you."

He shifted just enough to glance at Yunjae, a soft smile forming.

"Sure, he's got my genes," he added, voice quieter now, "but he's all you." His thumb brushed absentmindedly against your arm. "Carried him for nine months, raised him.. that's you."

He pressed a lazy kiss to your neck, lingering.

"Pretty things usually come from you anyway."

"Dada! Mama! Look!" Yunjae's voice rang out through the cold air as he waved, bouncing in place beside his snowman like he could barely contain himself. His cheeks were flushed pink, beanie slightly crooked, and his little gloved hands dusted with snow. All while Layla sat beside the snowman like she had contributed to it as well.

You and Jake both looked up at the same time.

Jake let out a soft chuckle, tightening his arms around you. "He's loud," he murmured, though there was nothing but fondness in his voice.

"He gets that from you," you whispered back.

"Yeah?" Jake hummed sleepily, nuzzling closer into your shoulder. "Is that a compliment, baby?"

Yunjae didn't wait any longer—he was already running toward you both, nearly slipping in the snow before catching himself with a proud little gasp.

"I made it all by myself!" he announced, pointing dramatically at the lopsided snowman like it was the greatest thing in the world.

You leaned forward slightly from the porch step, brushing snow off his sleeve. "It's really good, baby."

Jake stayed seated beside you, still half-curled in his shirt and sweatpants, eyes squinting slightly at the snowman like he was critically inspecting it. "Hmm," he murmured after a beat. "Pretty solid construction. Might survive the winter."

Yunjae gasped. "Really?!"

Jake nodded once, a soft smile on his face. "Very impressive work, buddy. Good job."

That was all it took for Yunjae to light up, bouncing on on his heels in glee before suddenly freezing mid-celebration. He placed his hands over his covered stomach.

Then he looked at you with the most serious expression a four year old could muster.

"I'm hungry," he declared.

You blinked, stunned at the sudden switch. "Already?"

"I want breakfast," he added matter-of-factly, already trudging back toward the porch like the snowman had been completed and emotionally filed away.

Jake stared after him for a second, then let out a quiet laugh against your neck.

"He just abandoned his life's work."

"He's four," you said, trying not to laugh.

"Mama, I want pancakes," he added, like it was the most urgent matter in the world, sending a longing look towards your way.

You laughed softly, standing up to follow your son inside, but before Yunjae could even reach the door, Jake shifted.

In one smooth motion, he stood from the porch, stepped forward, and scooped Yunjae up under his arms.

"Dada!" Yunjae squealed instantly, legs kicking mid-air as he was lifted like it was nothing.

Jake adjusted him easily onto his hip, holding him snug against his side despite still being in his shirt and sweatpants. "No walking away mid-ceremony," he muttered, pressing a clumsy peck on his son's red cheek.

Yunjae giggled wildly, clinging to him. "Put me down!"

"Nope."

You watched them both, shaking your head with a smile as Jake carried him toward the door anyway.

"Pancakes first," Jake said, glancing at you over his shoulder.

Yunjae nodded quickly, still laughing. "Pancakes first!"

And just like that, the snowman was forgotten—standing alone in front of the house—while your little family headed inside, warm laughter trailing behind them.

You really couldn't ask for anything more.

[lovecvrexx]

THE BOY AT MY WINDOW ✩ N. RIKI

( 西村 力 ) swearing flirting teasing sexual tension

──── in which ︵ you receive an unexpected visit from a certain someone late at night. # niki is a dork : 1600

✩now playing - all that matters | justin bieber | - ✩viewmasterlist to check out my other works!

it was a quiet wednesday night in hongdae, and you were laying flat on your bed, legs in the air with ruffle socks pulled up to your shins, a lacy pink night gown adorning your figure and an abundance of homework in front of you. 

the tip of your pen found its way to your mouth as your eyebrows creased for the fifteenth time. math was not your forte, and on top of that you were thinking about anything but your homework. 

—the next practice, the upcoming performance, and the future that felt closer than ever. it was safe to say algebra was not a priority. 

just as you were about to put your pen to paper, you heard a weak tapping at your window. almost immediately, you quickly turned over and reached for the pocket knife under your pillow. 

living in hongdae, you were never truly safe, which is why your dad made it his job to give you some sort of weapon in case of emergencies. you slid off your bed anxiously, walking toward the window with your hand clutching the handle of the knife, your lip caught between your teeth as your eyes narrowed at the trees outside your bedroom window. 

just as you registered that there was nothing there, a figure suddenly appeared in front of your window, leaving you yelping in fear as you held the knife up to whoever was out there. whoever or whatever it was, you knew it was important to let them know that you were armed. 

just then, the figure knocked on the window and you swore you could have recognised those furrowed, expressive eyebrows anywhere. niki. 

you approached the window, rolling your eyes and scoffing as you cracked it open enough for him to hop through it and into your room. 

“seriously riki, what the fuck! you scared the shit out of me!” you hissed, hitting his shoulder as he was climbing through your window. 

as soon as he turned back around, you took it upon yourself to truly take him in. 

he looked smug, his dark hair falling over his forehead, his tall frame looming over you and brown eyes flickering with amusement. his lips curved into a smile as he observed your frantic demeanour. 

“is it really that easy to scare you, huh?” he said, his hands landing on your hips as he pulled you closer to him, his brows raised in a teasing manner. you peeled his hands off you, and he responded with a frown. 

“not tonight, homework.” you said, rolling your eyes as you spun around, plopping yourself down on your bed as your hand gestured to the pile of books on your sheets. 

“come on, sweetheart. twenty minutes. all i need.” he mumbled as he walked towards you slowly, his hands landing on your waist and pushing your body further back on the bed so he could climb on top of you, his head falling against your neck, lips placing gentle, teasing kisses on your skin. 

“we both know you won’t be done in twenty minutes, niki.” you sighed, sliding out from under him and back into your previous position, lying flat on your stomach with your legs kicked up in the air. 

“fuck- you’re such a tease, you know that?” he hissed, lying back on your bed, head resting on your pillows with his hands behind his head, eyes watching you hungrily as you hummed softly, jotting things down on the paper in front of you. 

“not my fault you think you can have me whenever you want.” you said quietly, looking behind yourself at him, raising one brow with a teasing smile on your face.  

“not my fault you let me in your room wearing that cute little nightdress expecting me to not want to fuck you.” he said, his voice deep and husky and leaving you clenching your thighs together and biting your bottom lip softly. 

“too bad you won’t get to.” you said, giving up on your homework and turning your body around to face him, sitting on your knees as you ran a hand through your hair. 

“you’re cute when you’re trying to get me riled up, baby.” he said, leaning forward and grabbing you by the waist, pulling you towards him and practically on top of him. you kept forgetting how strong he was, how he could easily lift you up and manoeuvre you around effortlessly, and god, it turned you on. 

“missed my favourite girl.” he mumbled, his brown eyes locked on yours as his big hands dragged your nightdress further up your body, your pink panties almost exposed. 

just as he leaned in to kiss you, the loud ring from the phone next to your bed drew you out of whatever trance you were in. 

niki scoffed, slapping his hand to his forehead gently as you reached for the phone, legs still either side of him. when you picked it up, you heard the all familiar voice of nishimura mai. 

“hello? hi, is that y/n?” mai’s voice rang out, and your eyes immediately widened. the idea of being on the phone with the mother of the boy you were currently on top of made your skin crawl. 

niki immediately sat up at your startled expression, his lips mouthing the words “who is it?” as his brows creased in curiosity. 

“it’s your mom!” you hissed with one hand over the phone, watching as niki’s jaw literally fell open as you removed it and brought the phone to your ear. 

“hi ms. nishimura! yes, this is she.” you said, your tone hesitant and overly sweet as you waited for her response. 

“i was just wondering if you had seen niki anywhere? i mean, it’s 10pm and a school night. i’ve tried sunghoon, and the others, and jake they told me to call you and ask?” ms. nishimura said, niki’s head close to the phone so he could hear what his mother was saying. 

“fucking jake.” niki whispered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

you quickly dropped the phone, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you looked toward the equally stressed out boy in front of you. 

“what do i say? do i tell her you’re here?” you whispered, watching as niki thought for a moment, his fingers tapping on your thighs as he thought of what to do. 

“you’re tutoring me! yes! say that, quick.” he whispered frantically, nodding at you. 

“i’m tutoring you?” you said, rolling your eyes as you brought the phone back up to your lips. 

“hi, yes, niki is here. he just asked me to help him out with some…math homework, so that’s what we’re doing. math homework.” you said abruptly. god, you were such a bad liar. 

“do you mind if i speak to him for a second?” mai asked, so you handed the phone to an anxious looking niki who took it in his hand. 

you didn’t hear a lot, but there was a lot of yelling on his mom’s part and none on niki’s. you heard something about how late it was, and how he was hanging out at a girls house, and how he needed to be home in five minutes. 

“fine, bye mom.” he huffed, smacking the phone back down onto the bed before running a hand through his black hair. 

“disappointed, are we, niki?” you teased, purposefully bouncing slightly in the spot where he wanted you the most, his head hitting the headboard as he drew in a sharp inhale. 

“fuhhck. you’re the worst, you know that?” he mumbled, leaning forward and kissing you softly on the jaw, one of your hands sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair. 

his hands gently took ahold of your hips and slid you off him, one of his hands lingering on your thigh for a moment before climbing off your bed and back towards the window. 

“same time tomorrow?” he said playfully, winking at you before cracking open your window and beginning to climb out.

“you wish, loser!” you called after him, before his hand slipped back through the window to flip you off, leaving you smiling like an idiot as he closed it behind him. 

nishimura riki was a dork. 

© 2026 LOVECVREXX. please do not repost / claim my work is yours.

@sadperfect, @itsraininghyunebuckets, @ebnabi, @flippedccc, @persassyismysecrettwin, @chan1uv, @bunny-2473, @ykitsaura, @quinnofdrama, @kloversung, @angelhyuka, @hueningsgirl, @cinnamonrei, @a120102, @shawnyle, @kristynaaah

[all4yoi]

𝓐ppa, stop it!

dad!jungwon x fem!reader. . !! cw : 639 wc, fluff ! jw rage baiting his son, other than that idt theres any more lmk if i missed anyth! not proofread

wherein, jungwon is a professional rage baiter, and even his son isn’t spared from his playful chaos, turning a simple beach day into pure family chaos.

notes, happy children's day! after seeing jungwon's weverse post, i cant help but think that maybe he'd be the same as his parents rage baiting his son lol, i love the video so much i cant stop watching it my hearts breaking 💔

MASTERLIST

Yang Jungwon was a professional for getting under people's skin. He was effortless with it, almost instinctive. One smirk, one comment, and suddenly you were exactly where he wanted you. He'd laugh sometimes, make fun of you when you fall for his bait.

Even when he became your boyfriend—and more so now that he was your husband—nothing changed. For years, you'd been his favorite target, though never without affection. He'd tease you endlessly, pretend not to know where your glasses were when you "lost" it (he hid them), and once even accidentally dropped your expensive cleanser into the toilet because he picked it up just to "check the ingredients."

But now, no one had it worse than his son, Yang Chenwon.

In the shallow stretch of the ocean, Jungwon stood with Chenwon clinging desperately to his father's trunks, sobbing.

"Take me back!" the toddler wailed, crying as he kept his iron grip on his father. Jungwon only laughed, dimples appearing as he tried to peel his son away.

Chenwon only wailed louder, calling for you as he pointed in your direction in the shore, trying to drag his father along.

"Okay, okay we'll go back," Jungwon laughed, finally relenting as he took his son's arm and guided him toward the land.

Once the toddler finally stumbled out of the water, he let go of his father and staggered back, wailing in pure betrayal. Jungwon dropped onto the sand, grinning as he watched his son.

"Chennie, you scared, baby?" you asked softly, crouching to his level. Your son nodded, sniffling and beginning to calm—until Jungwon scooped up a handful of sand and rubbed it onto his arm.

Chenwon shrieked instantly, flailing as the wet grains clung to his skin. Jungwon only laughed harder, dimples deepening as he watched.

"Appa, no more!" he wailed, swinging a tiny hand at his father's direction. Jungwon dodged easily, which only made the toddler cry harder in a failed attempt at revenge.

"Aye, real men love sand, Chennie-ah," Jungwon teased, reaching for him—but Chenwon stepped back, glaring. Then without mercy, Jungwon grabbed another handful of wet sand and smeared it on his son's bare leg.

Chenwon's scream rang louder this time, sharp enough that a few nearby people turned, confused, at the scene.

"Sweetheart, I think he's had enough." you murmured towards your husband as you watched at your wailing son in awe. He was a perfect copy of his father—same round face, same boba eyes, even the dimples. Your genes didn't stand a chance.

So even now, as he wails at full volume, you can't find it in yourself to be upset and silence him as more people are now starting to look. Because all you see is Jungwon in him—the same eyes, the same little expressions—and your chest warms at the familiarity. It doesn't replace the love you already have for your son, it just deepens it, layering something softer, something quietly fond, over everything you already feel.

Jungwon's grin softened as he wiped his sandy hands on his trunks and reached out. "Okay," he drawled gently. "Appa's sorry, Chennie. Come here—let's head back to the hotel."

Chenwon sniffled, looking at his father reluctantly, but desperate for comfort, he ran to Jungwon's open arms and wrapped his small arms around his father's neck.

Jungwon let out a small groan as he stood, smoothing his son's hair and pressed before pressing a soft kiss to his chubby cheek. Then he turned to you, hand outstretched.

You took it, and together, you started back toward the hotel.

"You know," you whispered, glancing at your now drowsy son resting on Jungwon's shoulder, "he's going to grow up rage-baiting people just like you."

Jungwon only shrugged, smiling at you.

"He's my son. It's bound to happen, baby."

[opiuons]

FELL FOR THE RAGEBAIT. 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 ✶ 𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝘄𝗼𝗻 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾. 𝗍𝗐𝗍𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗯𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿!𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗋, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗽𝘁 : 𝖮𝖭𝖤. 𝗧𝗪𝗢.

𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺𝖾 : jakehoonwon let’s work this out at my place.

taglist : @asaapjwons @won1yoiz @strwbysunoo @yummysummerberry @isa942572 @hyyhwriter @tinyteezer @zielyous @dina-10s-blog @enhasdihsucker @house0fballoonz

[ensomniiac]

pairing: established relationship!ni-ki x reader

context: you and Ni-ki argue and you ice him out for days so he does the only thing he can think to do to make things better; cover up the tattoo he got for his ex and get your name tattooed on his chest.

warnings; minor cursing, desperate ni-ki, implied intimacy, love bombing; I kinda lost the plot but I really need the practice

rant: does anyone else think ni-ki’s tattoos are fake? I mean, I don’t care either way, but they’re definitely fading. Hopefully they were test runs and he’s gonna get them for real with something different like the placement or style.

♱⋆ཐི˚₊‧⁺⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱𓆩^._.^𓆪♱⋆ཐི˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱

Ni-ki shows up to your apartment with three different apologies ready: flowers, the cover-up, and your name.

But he doesn’t intend to give them all up at once. If he can, he’ll do it one by one.

Maybe if you two happen to argue again, he’ll reveal the second; and when you make up, the last one will seal the argument there.

Unlike the first time he did this, Ni-ki does feel nervous.

You aren’t the type to fall for such a ridiculous gesture; if anything, you strike him as the type to leave him for it and leave him stuck with your name tattooed on his chest.

But you open the door and he can’t not commit to it, especially not when seeing you just reminds him how much he needs you in his life.

There’s nothing special about how he stands outside your door; he’s wearing a black hoodie and equally dark baggy jeans, the only color on him right now is the flower bouquet he’s holding that’s just pure red roses.

Still, not seeing him for nearly a week makes him look that much better in person.

“You should have told me you were coming.” You say softly, your voice just above a whisper because of how little you used it without him around.

Ni-ki takes a step closer, just to tower over you slightly and make sure you see the flowers as if they weren’t obvious enough.

“Kinda defeats the whole purpose of a surprise, no?” He says, trying to be playful to avoid making this too serious.

“Maybe I don’t want to see you. Did you consider that?” You suggest, staying in place where you’re blocking the door to him.

Ni-ki sighs; tilting his head and closing his eyes slightly the way he always does out of habit.

“Come on…I can’t stand this anymore.” He says, a slight whine in his tone as he holds the flowers up to you.

“I am holding flowers, right?” He adds.

You look down at the flowers for a second.

Roses are overrated, but expensive, especially these that look so crisp and vivid in color.

“I still haven’t heard an apology.” You point out gently, reaching out to feel one of the roses.

Ni-ki is about five seconds away from sinking to his knees; he’s that desperate.

And you might like that, but he doesn’t want to take too many chances on trying to figure out what you want from him.

“Of course I’m fucking sorry—“ he says, running a hand through his hair.

You can’t explain this properly; you’re enjoying this too much to think about it any other way.

But he sounds just as delicious as he looks; whiny pleading Ni-ki is much better than whatever nonchalant bullshit he likes to put up.

“You’re so cute…” you say softly; the smugness in your tone is hard to miss.

Ni-ki doesn’t care though.

He’s more interested in what he’s going to do the minute you turn back around to face him after locking your door now that you’ve let him inside.

And he’s eager, so it happens quickly.

The flowers are placed on this shelf you have in the entrance hall, and Ni-ki has his hands on you almost immediately.

You’re the perfect height for him to just close the distance and tilt his head down to kiss you; you’re short enough that it gives him a satisfaction of being bigger than you, but not enough to make it difficult to do these things.

And Ni-ki loves being bigger than you.

He makes it a point to swallow you up with his entire body because he needs to feel how you don’t cover even a bit of him.

And after being denied this for days, it’s hard for him not to overwhelm you in his excitement.

Everything happens fast so he can understand why you don’t notice it at first.

But they’re both in your face, and you have yet to point out the fact that there’s a spider on his v-line and scribbles on his chest just below his collarbone.

Actually, it takes you until after everything to even notice, and the spider is first.

“Nik, when did you…” you begin, but you don’t finish your sentence before you’re reaching down to touch it.

“Careful.” He says nervously, grabbing your wrist. “It’s still pretty new, so it’s still a little sensitive.” He adds, wondering if you’ll comment on the name or if you still haven’t seen it.

“You got it covered up?” You ask, your voice softening with a slight aww when you realize that he did this because you two argued.

“Baby…” he calls out softly, tilting his head so you’ll take the hint to follow his gaze.

It’s hard to notice because it’s a little dainty.

Still, the lines, the font, and the placement make up for how tiny it is.

At least it would if you were okay with this.

“Are you insane??” You ask, sitting up with your blankets pulled tightly over your chest.

“You don’t like it?” He asked, feeling both a little self-conscious and also slightly embarrassed.

“Ni-ki.” You say firmly, running your hands over your face.

“In what world would I ever ask you to do this??” You ask, looking at it again as if it would have disappeared since you last saw it.

“That’s the point, you don’t ask—I just do it.” He explains, but the excuse falls short; this is basically love bombing.

“Don’t make me cover it up…I love you, this is me showing you how much I love you.” He says, trying to back you up into a corner on this.

“I’m yours.” He says, a little suddenly the way he grabs your hand to place it on his cheek.

“Your name’s right here.” He continues softly, leaning into your palm.

“I can’t hide it from anyone unless I’m wearing clothes…and it’s right next to my heart.” He adds.

And that’s where it becomes hard to argue about it.

You used to wonder how the other tattoo was a thing if Ni-ki seemed like such a level-headed person.

But if that one was presented even remotely like this one is being done, it makes a lot of sense why he got it and why his ex was so okay with it.

It’s even working on you right now.

“Just…promise me you won’t come back a week from now with my face on your back.” You sigh, giving into it.

Ni-ki smiles, pressing a kiss to your palm before he pushes you onto your back so he can hover over you instead.

“I promise,” he assures, a reaffirming nod.

“But there is this one concept where I get your eyes—“ “Absolutely not.” You interrupt, and Ni-ki purses his lips and nods, realizing you might be letting it go, but you still aren’t okay with it.

“I love you.” He repeats, kissing under your jaw.

“Say it back.” He says, after you’ve opened your mouth to say it but before you could get the words out.

“I was going to—“

“Okay, so do it.”

“…I love you too.”

[spideyengene]

Whiskey Lips ➼ Nishimura Riki

Pairing ➼ bf!ni-ki x fem!reader

Summary ➼ your self-care night is cut short when your drunk boyfriend decides to call you from a bar floor at 11:48PM

Word Count ➼ 2.5k

Contains ➼ fluff, established relationship, swearing, kissing, pet names

Ni-ki never called, he always texted, so when his name lit up your screen at 11:48PM you already knew something was off.

You, however, keep your eyes on the movie playing in front of you and choose to extend your arm carefully towards the noise of the device, blindly tapping your hand on the surface of your drawer until you eventually feel the touch of your phone.

Five seconds prior to this interruption was supposed to be your "self-care" night. Time all to yourself to finally watch the film "Uptown Girls" that has been on your watchlist for months, and an excuse to use the facemask that you bought for twenty dollars because you convinced yourself the "cutting-edge" formula would get rid of the beautiful pimple on the center of your forehead.

Your instinct is to mute the call so you won't have to pause the movie, but the sound of the ringtone you chose for Ni-Ki, Michael Jackson's "Beat It", signifies that it is in fact your boyfriend calling and not a random spam, so you resist the urge to press the ignore button and swipe to answer, already confused — last you heard he was out with Jungwon and Jake, and Ni-ki didn't call, he texted, so why—

"Y/NNNNNN, how's my baby? I miss you soooooo much!" Ni-Ki screams into the phone.

"Hey Riki, is everything alright?"

You can tell he must be at a bar from the large amount of background noise on the call, and for a second you even think you hear the sound of Jake's voice yelling 'SIMP' on the other end, but Ni-Ki's voice is just too loud to fully confirm.

"Are you drunk right now?" You say while abandoning the mountain of blankets you were lying in, shifting your once comfortable body to sit up against the headboard of your bed.

"What! No! I mean me and Jakey over here had a couple drinks but we're totally chilling—" "Don't call me that—" Jake's voice cuts through distantly in the background. "—I mean look, I can walk in a straight line, just watch!"

"Riki, I can't see you because-"

Your voice is interrupted by the sound of the phone dropping on the other line. You sigh in annoyance and lift your legs to the side of your mattress, instinctively preparing yourself to get out of bed for the first time this evening.

"Y/N, can you hear me?" A new voice, who you assume to be Jungwon based on the soft tone, suddenly emerges.

"Yeah, is everything okay? Was Riki actually unable to walk in a straight line or did the phone just disconnect?" You say, a little more relaxed now that you know someone responsible is there, because knowing Jake he was most likely just as drunk as Riki was.

"Based on the fact that he's sprawled out on the floor right now… I would assume he could not walk in a straight line." Jungwon says with a heavy sense of secondhand embarrassment in his voice.

"HEYYYY, who are you on the phone with?" screams Ni-Ki, still sprawled onto the floor with his hands behind his head, looking way too comfortable for someone lying on a sticky bar floor.

Jungwon turns his head, removing the phone from his ear, and putting a finger to his lips to shush him with the practiced patience of someone who has done this exact thing many times before. Ni-Ki just smiles back and raises his pinky finger over his lips, shushing the air in front of him in a fit of giggles.

"Yeah so everything is fine, but your boyfriend is acting like a complete menace and Jake just ran away." Jungwon says while running his hands through his hair. He knows what he is getting into when he agrees to be the designated driver, but nothing could have prepared him for it to be this bad.

"I'm gonna assume this means you want me to pick up Riki while you search for Jake?" you say, already getting up from your bed and remotely starting your car so you won't have to hear Ni-Ki complain about how freezing it is — your boyfriend has such a large hoodie collection for a reason.

While hopping out of bed you manage to get a quick glance at your mirror and immediately notice you are still wearing the very unattractive facemask that makes you look like a background villain in a low-budget horror film, and the ugly pajamas that mostly consist of Ni-ki's old oversized clothes.

"Uhhhh, Jungwon, are you still there?" You ask while staring at your reflection and wincing at the embarrassing thought of walking into a bar full of strangers, looking just as unhinged as your boyfriend probably looked right now.

"Yeah, sorry. That would actually be amazing if you could because I still cannot find Jake and I'm assuming he went to the nearest Seven Eleven to get ramyeon since he always does that when he's drunk."

"Ok, well I'm gonna need two minutes, but then I'll be on the way. Please tell Ni-Ki to sit somewhere and stay put until I get there. God knows if he finds out Jake went to Seven Eleven his fatass will immediately follow."

Jungwon snorts. "Don't worry, I'll send you the address."

And just like that, your self-care night is over before the facemask even has time to dry.

Ni-Ki currently has his arms wrapped around your neck as he leans his head into your chest, his mouth wide open and eyes closed like he misinterpreted your chest for a pillow, all while you attempt to drag his much larger body to your apartment door. Thankfully, you assumed this would not be a simple ordeal so you parked in the closest parking spot to the building, but with Ni-ki's dead weight practically dragging you both to the ground, even twenty feet feels like a marathon.

"Riki you need to stop leaning all your body weight on me or else we're both gonna eat shit!" You exclaim while gritting your teeth, face scrunched in the way it did that one time you were dragged to the gym and attempted to bench press. Safe to say it was worthwhile for moments like these.

Ni-Ki lifts his head from your chest, blonde locks looking like Sid Vicious personally styled his hair, and looks at you with an expression of pure disgust. "Ew, baby don't say that, I would never eat shit, that's disgusting." His misinterpretation alone is enough to bring him to full standing, arms still wrapped around you, both of you now looking like you were about to slow dance at prom.

You blush from the sudden proximity, face now inches apart, and look down in slight embarrassment. "Do you actually think I meant eating literal shit? It's an expression for falling over, you dumbass." You look up again at your now smiling boyfriend, eyes naturally gravitating towards his duck-like lips. "You of all people should know that."

He notices your stare on his lips, so he tips his finger below your chin and slightly lifts your face back to his eyes. "Yeah but I'm a dumbass you wanna kiss sooo bad right now." He says with a smirk.

You immediately push back, now released from his tight hold. "Yeah right, you're way too drunk for me to kiss right now."

"Aw, come on, baby, don't do me like that! Just one little peck on the lips!" He exclaims while pointing to his lips and slightly slouching now that he doesn't have your body to support his balance.

You turn, arms crossed over your chest like you're reprimanding a child. "No way. You're not getting a single kiss until you make it back to my apartment, and that means without using me as your personal walking cane." You state in a stern tone.

"Ughhhh fine, but you better be telling the truth." He says in defeat, following behind you with the expression of a kid who just dropped their ice cream.

Once you reach the door, you place your hand in your pocket and begin searching for your keys, all while Ni-Ki groans in complaint as he trudges up the final steps of your annoyingly long staircase. Your fingers eventually find the familiar shape of your Hello Kitty keychain and you pull them out, moving to fit the key into the lock.

However, your hand freezes halfway to the doorknob when you feel two arms wrap around you from behind, engulfing you in a sudden warmth.

Ni-Ki places his chin on your left shoulder, mouth so close to your ear you feel a tingle from his breath. "You know… you did say I would get that kiss once we made it to your apartment, and it looks like we've reached our destination." He whispers, breath hot on your skin.

You feel your skin prickle from his hot breath, the thought of kissing him becoming more irresistible the closer his touch becomes. You turn the key, the apartment now free to enter, but your hand stills on the doorknob while you let a heavy breath out. "Riki, you are too drunk right now, you need to sleep."

Ni-Ki lets out an amused chuckle, moving his face closer into the nape of your neck and pressing a soft kiss just below your ear. "Mhm," he murmurs against your skin, lips trailing down slowly, "you say that—" another kiss, this time to the side of your neck, "—but the door is still closed."

You lean your head back, giving him more access to your neck, and close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure of his lips on your skin. You feel him smile at your defeat as he takes your face into his hand, bringing your faces nose to nose, until you eventually feel his lips on yours. The kiss begins slow, as if he is testing the waters of your previous resistance, but as soon as he realizes you have no intention of stopping him, the hand on your jaw pulls you closer, the kiss deepening in a way that makes you forget entirely that you were ever trying to resist in the first place.

The movements connecting your lips increase in speed, and somewhere in between the growing fire between your lips, his tongue slips past yours — and immediately your tastebuds are met with the unmistakable taste of whatever alcohol he'd been drinking all night. You pull back, nose scrunched. "Eugh, babe you have to stop, your mouth tastes like a mix of acid reflux and whiskey."

Ni-ki just smiles, swollen lips on display, and steps forward, huffing in a large breath of air before exhaling it directly onto your face.

"RIKI!" you scream, running into the apartment and pulling your shirt sleeve over your nose as some sort of protective mask against the horrid smell he blew at you. He, however, finds your reaction hilarious and chases after you, having an unfair advantage considering he is wearing Nike sneakers and has the long legs to match, quickly closing the gap between you despite your head start.

He wraps his arms around your torso and leans his bodyweight into your back, causing you both to fall onto the couch you happened to be running by. Your face hits the decorative pillow and you're enveloped in the familiar weight of him on top of you.

"You can't get away from me that easily, babe." Riki murmurs in your ear with a tone of confidence, now that he knows you have no way of escaping his grasp.

"Mmph, cah you at leasth let me turhn over, 'm losin' the ability to breathe." You speak into the pillow, words sounding distorted from your lack of air.

"Only if you promise to kiss me." Riki says sternly.

"UGHH FINE." You begrudgingly yell into the pillow. "MM AM ABOOT TO LOZE OXYGENN HERE CAH YOU-"

Before you can finish your sentence, Ni-Ki grabs your arms in a gentle grasp and swiftly flips you over, your back now pressed against the couch and head gently atop the pillow.

"Hey baby." He says with a smug smile on his face.

"Don't 'hey baby' me, you almost suffocated me just now!" You exclaim with a pout, avoiding eye contact so you are less tempted to let him get his way with a kiss.

"Hey, don't turn away from me, I wanna see your pretty face." He says while turning your head upright, thumb resting gently on your jaw, eyes searching yours with an expression that makes it very hard to stay mad at him.

Instead of making another snarky remark, you let yourself stare into his eyes, cheeks reddening from the sudden proximity.

"Don't get shy on me now, baby." He says with a smirk. You let out a scoff, attempting to mask your embarrassment at the flustered state he has put you in. "You still owe me a kiss."

Ni-Ki leans in, blonde hair slightly covering his eyes as he closes the distance between your lips. His hand goes to the side of your cheek, pulling you further into him to deepen the kiss. This one feels more sensual than the one at the door, as if you were both trying to bask in each other's touch and savour this personal moment. His breath still carries the taste of whiskey, but you decide to ignore it this time, moving your lips along with his, your hand finding its way into his hair as your bodies settle into each other.

After some time, Ni-Ki's kisses get sloppy and his body feels heavier against your chest. "Mhm, baby, are you getting sleepy?" You murmur as you break away from the kiss, your hand still running through his hair.

Ni-Ki lowers his head in between your breasts, letting out a soft breath and tightening his hold around your torso. "Mhm." You can feel the flutter of his eyelashes against the fabric of your shirt, moving up and down as if he is battling the urge to close his eyes and sleep. You smile down at him, finding it sweet that he wants to stay awake with you despite his body saying otherwise.

"We can just sleep here alright?" You say, rubbing circles on his back.

"But I wanted to stay up and talk to you."

"I know but I think sober you in the morning will deeply regret that choice, so just go to sleep. I'll be here in the morning to listen to you talk about your night, okay?"

"Hmmm, okay."

"Good, now go to sleep. I love you."

"I love you more."

Before even thinking of responding, you hear his breathing pattern slow and you can tell he has passed out on your chest. Not ready to sleep just yet, you carefully reach your arm out and grab the remote to the television in front of you, putting on Uptown Girls, now finishing what was supposed to be a self-care movie night with your drunk boyfriend fast asleep on your chest instead. Not that you would have it any other way.

AN: AHHHH thank you for reading my first oneshot on tumblr!! I grew up writing fanfics but it has been a while since i've written, so lmk what you think! I got the idea for writing this from the fancall clip of Ni-Ki saying his drink of choice is whiskey, so this is how I imagined him drunk. Thank you for reading!

[rikimuse]

ok im abt to lock in and write again whos excited

[rikimuse]

the concept of moonstruck without heeseung

[opiuons]

FELL FOR THE RAGEBAIT. 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 ✶ 𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝘄𝗼𝗻 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾. 𝗍𝗐𝗍𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗯𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿!𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗋, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗽𝘁 : 𝗢𝗡𝗘. 𝖳𝖶𝖮.

𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺𝖾 : jungwon im watching your tweets rn why you calling jakehoon hideous that’s disrespectful as sht

[kissued]

HOUSE OF CARDS ──────── YJW 양정원

SYNOPSIS ⋮ weeks after your breakup, yang jungwon’s desperate to have you in his arms (and on his dick) again!

PAIRING ⋮ ex boyfriend!jungwon x fem!reader.

CONTENT WARNINGS ⋮ 18+ smut. mdni. piv. unprotected sex. breeding kink. possessive!won. he’s mean, jealous, and also a liiil toxic whoops! fingering. he uses his teeth to undress u. rough sex. kissing, lots of saliva and bodily fluid talk !!! Sorry!!!!

AN ⋮ something’s possessed me to write this filth… i don’t know what it is but jungwon is the apple of it’s eye!!! SAVE ME!!!! also ty vee @jungwonslover my proofreader + number 1 jw fan yawp yawp yawp.

PLAYING ♫ ⋮ HOUSE OF CARDS — BTS, COMING DOWN — THE WEEKND.

REBLOGS APPRECIATED. THANK YOU FOR READING <3

YOU AND YANG JUNGWON WERE ENDGAME.

If there was anything that high school proved, if not the fact that most of your friends were two-faced snakes—it was that he and you were meant for forever.

You can guess that's part of the reason why he's knocking at your door again, flowers in his left hand and his phone in his right. He's drenched in depressing October rain, wearing that ridiculously adorable pout on his face.

Obviously. He knows you, and he knows how fast you drop to your knees when you see those lips curl downwards. It’s exactly why you’re holding onto the sides of your sweater, if only to stop yourself from turning that doorknob.

“I know you’re home, Y/N. Your lights are on.”

His voice is muffled through the thin wood. You take another peek through the tiny hole of your front door—his under-eyes airbrushed with a faint red, the tip of his nose all the same.

The hallway behind him stretches wide, empty, dim with decorated with wet footprints on it’s tiles. Jungwon stands in the middle of the corridor like he owns it, as if your next-door neighbours couldn’t take a step out and catch him here, sopping wet and holding flowers like this was a romantic comedy.

It looks like he’s not leaving anytime soon.

"You shouldn't have come." You respond. His ears perk up, head tilting towards the peephole. As if he can hear the hesitation behind your voice. The hurt on his face is impossible to miss. If only you weren't fresh out of the relationship, it'd make you laugh.

“Then why aren’t you telling me to leave?” He asks, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip at an attempt to soothe his anxiety.

A water droplet rolls down his temple, to his chin, and then drips onto his already soaked t-shirt.

“I just did,” you say. “Go away.”

Yang Jungwon was always terribly persistent when it came to you. Back in college, there were days where he’d lose all sense of responsibility and ditch his much needed study hours just to see his beloved girlfriend—it’s all sunshine and rainbows when he has you laid up in his sheets, no weight on his shoulders when he has your body pressed against his.

And perhaps this spoiled you. As ill-prepared as you were, you knew that Yang Jungwon taking up a job that required him to travel half across the world, multiple times a month, would do something to your relationship.

So, when employment rolls around and you’re finally split apart by your very different job scopes—the schedules, the time, the busyness of it all… it was only a matter of inevitability.

The silence used to be comfortable. It used to be the ones where your limbs could tangle together and kisses felt more lazy than anything else. Now, it’s just stretched thin over bad cell service, laggy FaceTimes and horribly mismatched timezones.

“Y/N,” he’s pleading now. The ceiling light of the sterile corridor outside is reflecting off his eyes, all glassy and persuasive. There’s also something uniquely dangerous about how he chose to wear a white tee under his leather jacket. “Please. I’m begging you, I just want to talk.”

He will not get you. You will not let him in, and you will stand firm on that.

“Please, baby. Let me see you.”

Fuck.

You take a step back from the door for a few seconds. This didn’t require a lot of thinking, apparently, because your mouth soon opened before you could even make your way back to the door.

“What do you want to talk about?”

You tiptoe to get a better, clearer view of Jungwon’s face in the glass. The arm that holds the flowers is now at his side—you can see the way his shirt clings onto his chest like this, peeking through the leather. A brief thought flashes in your mind, one that says ‘he must be freezing’, and to let him inside. You almost do.

Jungwon scrunches his nose, his free hand coming to wipe at it before he clears his throat and speaks up. “It’s been days, Y/N. You haven’t returned any of my calls, my texts. I’ve been worried.”

“Is that so? I’m fine, as you can hear from my voice. Now go home, it’s cold.”

“You don’t sound fine. Please, Y/N. I don’t want us to fight anymore.”

You let a scoff slip. “You don’t look fine, either. Even.”

Your response earns the faintest huff from him—it would’ve been a laugh in any other context, but now, his head just dips, shoulders slumping a fraction as rainwater continues to drip from his hair, sliding down in uneven trails.

“Can you just open the door?” Jungwon asks, eyebrows knitting together. “I’m not here to fight.”

He looks like a puppy that’s just been kicked to the curb. There’s a look in his eye that’s the equivalent of someone getting on their knees and practically begging, and you’re half convinced that Yang Jungwon might do just that.

He definitely would, wouldn’t he?

“Jungwon,” and for some reason—your left hand is on that doorknob. Despite already resolving that you wouldn’t let him inside your home. “I don’t want to fight, either. That’s why I want you to go away.”

“Do you still love me?”

Your voice barely reached him. “Jungwon—“

“Please.”

And perhaps that's why your friends describe you as the one to die first in a horror movie, or the last to have a spine, or simply the one who can't quite loosen her grip on a love she's carried for far too long.

The door pulls towards you, slowly, not without that signature creak and soft thud against your already-chipped wall.

Yang Jungwon stands before you, towering, drenched but significantly drier than thirty minutes ago when he was first begun loitering outside your door. His hair sticks in wet clumps to his forehead, temples, anywhere that’s too long.

The faint tremor in his body makes you want to pull him inside. Wrapping a towel around him to let him dry and sending him off would probably be a very good idea—there’s nothing between you now, no girlfriend-y duties to fulfil other than making sure he doesn’t freeze to death, though you’re sure that anyone (girlfriend or not) would do the same.

Jungwon’s eyes widen when he finally sees you. You’re leaning against the door like you’re expecting him to walk inside, and he does—though he keeps his head low and his shoulders squared as it happens.

“I’ll get a towel for you. Give me a minute.” You manage, back facing him. When you finally shut the door, your body turns back around, only to watch him standing in the middle of your living room like he has no clue where to go.

“Okay.”

His voice comes out quieter than you expect—like the gloomy cold has taken it’s place in his chest. Up close, it’s worse. Or better. You’re not very sure.

You can see everything now, without the distortion of glass or distance to soften it—the way the rain has dragged his hair down into uneven, damp strands against his soft skin. A few pieces curl slightly at the ends, darker than normal, dripping slow, accidental droplets that trace down the side of his face.

One of them slips along the sharp line of his jaw. Your eyes can’t help but to follow obediently.

It disappears beneath the collar of his shirt—if it can even be called that right now. It’s barely even visible with the white fabric being completely soaked through, plastered to him like a second skin.

It’s clinging to the planes of his chest—the faint definition beneath is dizzying, the steady rise and fall of his breathing being the only thing you can zero in on. It leaves very little to imagination, and you hate how quickly your gaze has to flick back up to his face like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

It’s most probably because it isn’t. Reminder that you should not be staring at your ex-boyfriend’s chest like he’s still yourboyfriend.

“You were going to get me a towel,” the corner of his lips twitches into a smile. “What happened to that?”

You swallow, pushing yourself off the door a little too quickly. Jungwon’s lips are pursed together, a faint blush painted across his cheeks, and he’s staring at you like he knows he’s got you.

“You’ll be fine,” you force a mocking smile and all Jungwon can do is let out a chuckle—you’re making your way towards the kitchen, his eyes following your figure as it moves further away from his.

You make your way into the kitchen with purpose that feels rehearsed now, with a mind that’s anything but steady. Yang Jungwon hasn’t been in your home in weeks, and you’ve begun to accept the fact that he might become a stranger to this place altogether. There’s still traces of him—in the bathroom, in your bed, on your study desk. The photos of your first trip together are still framed in the hallway, too.

The overhead light flicks on, too bright and exposing when Jungwon’s still staring into you. For a second, you busy yourself with nothing—hands hovering over the counter, opening a cabinet you didn’t need to open, closing it again just as fast.

Behind you, you can feel him. You don’t have to look to know his eyes never left you.

There’s a faint sound of movement—his shoes sliding against the floor, quieter now that they’re no longer dripping as much. He doesn’t follow immediately, though. He lingers, like he’s taking in the space, re-familiarising himself with something he still knows by heart.

By the time you reach for the glass, your fingers are already shaking.

It’s right where it always is—second shelf, slightly to the left—but you still fumble with it, knocking it lightly against the others before pulling it free. The sound is small, but in the quiet, it feels like the only thing you want to focus on.

You set it down on the counter, reaching for the water dispenser until—

“Still in the same place,” Jungwon says from behind you. “You kept it. My cat mug.”

The smell of rain is penetrates your nose almost instantaneously. “I kept most things.”

You can guess what he looks like this close, if you were to turn around right now. Dripping, cold, clothes still sticking to him like half an hour in the warmth did him no favours. His swollen eyes, flushed face, and lips that say ‘please’ like they know exactly what it does to you.

Your grip tightens around the mug. You click on the warm water option, and the dispenser starts heating almost instantly. A soft mechanical hum fills the silence before the first trickle hits ceramic.

Steam curls up from the mug in thin, wavering ribbons, dissolving into the air before it can settle anywhere. You don’t move to pick it up. Your hand stays there, resting against the counter, fingers still slightly curled from how tightly you were holding on a second ago.

“I didn’t think you would.”

You keep your eyes on the mug. “It’s a mug, Jungwon. Not that serious.”

The water stops abruptly. Steam curls above it, fading into the air. You leave it there.

“Y/N L/N.”

When you turn around, Jungwon’s leaning against the counter behind you. Close enough for you to see the outline of his abdomen through the fabric of his tee, but far enough not to her the chatter of his teeth and the shiver of his breathing. You still have to tilt your head to meet his eyes properly.

“What?” you ask, but it comes out flatter than you intend, like you’re trying to hold something back from your own voice.

It’s only after a painfully long minute of forcing yourself to look him in the eye, does he speak.

“I miss you.”

The arrangement of flowers are somewhere on the coffee table. His jacket must be hanging somewhere on the coat hanger, though, the wet fabric of his shirt refuses to let your attention stray anywhere else to confirm.

Right now, Yang Jungwon’s stood in front of you, hands flexing at his sides like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them. You’re standing only one foot apart, your back pressed against the cold edge of your kitchen counter as his on the island—the cup of water stands stagnant behind you, waiting to be picked up.

The space between you feels thinner than it did seconds ago. Warmer, too. Charged in a way that makes your pulse pick up, where your body is suddenly too aware of every inch of distance left between the two of you, and also is desperately yearning to close it.

It would be nice to smell his cologne after weeks of trying to forget it. Every time you thought you did, it would waft around your apartment like a little ghost.

“Won—“

Up close, everything about him feels amplified. The damp fabric of his shirt has started to dry unevenly, clinging in some places, loosening in others, but still outlining him in a way that makes it hard not to notice. The subtle definition beneath, the steady expansion of his chest with each breath, the way his shoulders remain just slightly tense like he’s holding himself back from closing the rest of the distance all at once.

You know he wants to. There’s that half of you that wishes he just would.

“Please,” Jungwon murmurs. “Tell me you miss me too.”

His right arm reaches out—you don’t stop it. His thumb brushes the side of your hip, and you don’t stop it either. You don’t even think about pulling yourself away from the feeling of him on you again.

Jungwon knows what he’s doing.

His other arm follows suite, before they wrap around your waist completely—his large hands always had no issues doing this, pulling you in without any real effort—or perhaps you were always just drawn to him, like a magnet, unable to ever really stay away.

He exhales softly as he feels your warm body press against him. The sound brushes against your skin, and it reminds you of how wrong yet right this feels; your arms do what they’ve always known, wrapping around his torso like pushing him away was never an option.

He’s cold, and still, you melt anyway.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

“You’ve already said that.”

His large hands are splayed across your back—his calloused fingertips from the dedication to the gym, his larger-than-before shoulders that stretch across your smaller frame—it’s just as overwhelming as the first day you met.

Your warmth hits him like a wave, and for a moment, his hands freeze. Your fingers come up to the blades of his shoulders, running against the tiny dips and rises of his muscles; tonight feels like anything but reality, and instead, it’s two months ago when things were still fine and Jungwon was still yours.

He swears he still is, and you try to forget it. Too much time apart does things to you that you’d rather shove down and erase completely—but when your ex-lover is cold, shivering, clinging to your body like it’s the only heat that could get his blood moving—it bubbles right back up. It simmers, boils over and spills.

“You’re freezing, Won,” you mumble, “I really think you should—“

And maybe you have familiarity to blame, or comfort or naivety, because you lean into Yang Jungwon’s touch just as easily as you pushed it away. His hands are coming up your waist, stopping right at your neck—and what else can you do in this moment other than stare into those big, pretty irises of his?

Jungwon’s hand settles firmly at the side of your neck, his palm warm despite the lingering chill in his skin. His fingers curve just enough for you to feel the faint pressure when you swallow, your pulse fluttering wildly beneath his touch—and the moment he realises your breath is shaking, the glint in his eye makes you shiver.

His thumb drags slowly along the line of your jaw, then back again, slow, like he’s retracing something long committed to memory.

“Talk to me,” he whispers, breath ghosting against your lips as your foreheads touch. “Please, Y/N. Don’t shut me out again.”

Your lips part, but nothing comes out.

For a moment, all you can focus on is how close he is—the warmth of his breath, the way his hand holds you just firmly enough to keep you there, the faint tension in his fingers like he’s bracing for you to pull away.

There’s nothing except for the low hum of the city, and your hearts echoing in tandem as his body presses closer against yours. The rain is merciless tonight, unrelenting, pounding against the glass doors of your balcony like it wanted to be let inside—for now, the warm yellow of your hallway lamp bathes you and Jungwon in that comfortable hue, a stark contrast to the blue cold outside.

His hands feel frozen against your skin.

“You’re always leaving, Jungwon,” you mutter, refusing to meet his eyes despite the distance. “Even when you’re in front of me, you’re gone. I never have all of you.”

He swallows thickly, eyes still locked on yours. Your irises peek through your lashes, blinking slowly up at his.

Your breath catches in your throat. This is the part where you fall to your knees for Yang Jungwon—the part which you tried endlessly to avoid up until today. It’s when the line between logic and everything else blurs, and all you can see is him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Jungwon mutters, thumb caressing the patch of skin under your jawline. You lean into it like it means something. “We’ll talk about this. I can’t lose you—“

“Jungwon,” you interrupt, your touch firm over his knuckles, offering little resistance to the way he holds your jaw like this was all normal. “What good would it do us?”

He doesn’t respond immediately.

His hand stills under yours, your fingers resting over his knuckles as if you could stop him, or maybe stop yourself. His gaze doesn’t leave your face, not even when you’re actively avoiding his.

There’s something in his expression now—more careful than before, fully aware of the fact that you’re no longer his. You could really kick his ass out if you wanted to.

He’s thinking carefully for once. Instead of just reaching for you, the way he always does.

“If it doesn’t…” he starts, voice lower, rougher than before, “if it doesn’t fix anything—”

He exhales softly, the sound brushing your lips again, closer; his thumb shifts under your jaw, tilting your face up just enough that running from him becomes impossible—it’s not like you’ve been putting in much effort to do that, anyway.

“Then let me have you like this,” he finishes. “One last time.”

His nose bumps against yours in that old, messy fashion that you’ve never nailed. Kissing Jungwon always involves not knowing how fast, how deep to go, because it always ends up in something more intimate than it starts out. For the first thirty seconds, your ex lover lets himself feel—feel what he’s lost for weeks, reminding, retracing.

Forty seconds, and he has his hands wandering all over your warm body like they have no idea where to stay.

Fifty, and they’re running down your back and slipping under that thin, too-tight baby tee that you always wear to bed—fifty-six, and his tongue is somewhere tangled with yours.

“S-shit—you taste so fucking sweet.” he mumbles against your lips before letting you press your body further against his—there’s multiple sirens going off in your head by this point, in which you deliberately ignore, as one does when they have someone like him against them.

Jungwon’s a mess by the time your legs hook around his waist. His hands do the work, looping around your thighs and lifting you up with no real effort: just a small huff from all your weight pressing against his chest, and a (very pathetic) moan that strangles itself out of his throat when you grind against his crotch.

“You missed me?” He smiles against your lips, and it’s an understatement when you say he’s just hungry for you. Doesn’t even give you an opportunity to answer, instead, going for the exposed patch of skin on your neck, laying so beautifully for him.

“W-Won,” you whimper when he sets you on top of your cold, sterile kitchen island—there were months prior to this where you made pasta together on this same surface. “Please—“

“It’s okay,” he says. “I got you.”

It’s not like you’ve never had sex before.

It’s just… you don’t really have sex with ex- boyfriends. Normally. Even so, given that fact, it doesn’t stop you from rutting against Yang Jungwon like your life depends on it, nor does it stop him from undoing the drawstring of your shorts and pulling it riiight down.

“See,” he kisses his teeth, a cocky smile growing on his face—it sends blood right up to your face, watching him watch you, feeling him feel his way into your panties. “All that talk about pushing me away. So pointless.”

His hand slips beneath the band, thick fingers running down your slit, between your folds before coming back up and applying that sickening pressure to your clit. “She miss me, too?”

You’re soaked through by the time Yang Jungwon gets his middle finger at your entrance—teasing, letting only the tip graze your insides. Your jaw’s locked, hung open from trying to draw even breaths into your lungs. “Wooonnn… please. Don’t fucking tease—“

“Aw,” he pouts, eyes flicking back down to where his large hand stretches the fabric of your panties thin. He’s refused to slip them off. Soaking the back of his hand in slick, he wonders—if only for a moment—how it would feel if it was his cock instead. “Don’t get needy on me now.”

You gasp when he pushes past that tight ring of muscle—his finger swallowed whole by your dripping cunt. It curls almost instinctively, intensively, because what kind of man would Yang Jungwon be if he didn’t memorise this?

“Right here,” he mumbles, head hanging low, observing the way the slippery slide of your walls let him pump his fingers so effortlessly. “Feels good, baby? Wanna tell me how much you missed it?”

“Shut.. s-shut up, fuck—“

You choke on a moan—your body’s going into a lock. From sitting upright on your elbows to back arching off the marble, your head’s thrown back when Jungwon adds another finger ‘just for fun’.

His middle and ring finger curl inside of you. The squelching sounds is too much to bear; heat is crawling up your neck like it wants you to drown in it, and as a response, your hands come up to hide the humiliation written all over your face.

“Getting shy on me?” Jungwon mutters, before his free hand darts to pry your wrists away from your cheeks. His fingertips are brushing against that spongy, tingly bundle of nerves inside your core—everything in the room seems reduced to the electrifying feeling that’s buzzing inside your veins, surging, making your head spin.

“Yeah,” his stupidly long fingers are starting to make you see a new universe now, “forgot how fast you cum on my fingers. So cute.”

“F-fuckfuckfuck,” you squeal—your body feels like it’s locking up. The only thing your mind lets you repeat over and over is Jungwon, Jungwon, Jungwon; Jungwon in that shirt that’s still wet, Jungwon that knows your body so well, Jungwon that’s making sure you cum on his fingers or face at least once before he does anything with himself.

You see it in the way his cock presses against the edge of the counter, and the pained expression on his face like he’s just about ready to come undone. It’s always like that with him, always ready to give you everything he can offer if it meant you felt good.

“Fuck, almost forgot how pretty you look like this,” Jungwon mutters under his breath, though you barely catch it with the angels singing in your ears. Your head thighs are spread shamelessly on the cold marble, juices dripping down your inner thigh and spilling over onto the shiny surface—in his eyes, it almost glistens. “Always so damn nasty for me. Look at you.”

The remark would’ve been embarrassing in any other context. It’s too bad that Yang Jungwon knows exactly how to push your buttons, knows precisely what words to spit out of that nasty mouth to get you salivating. It’s dehumanising, really. Animalistic, the way he has your mind reduced to just slush—and though he can get soooo mean, it just doesn’t matter when it gets you cumming all over his fingers by the end of the night.

Most of the night is spent in a haze. Your vision is blurry, but you most definitely remember some parts in passing. You remember sliding down to your knees and almost choking on how big Jungwon was, and how he made you sit on his face by the second hour—though, to be fair, that was a prerequisite.

You definitely remember how he peeled his shirt off, and how he picked you up again like you were nothing, and how he tossed you onto the bed like it didn’t physically hurt to be apart from him for that split second.

You remember how he laughed at you, only to lean in close and press a searing kiss to the exposed skin of your neck—trailing down, wet and hot, until his teeth could pinch the hem of your soaked panties.

You remember how he pulled them off, sliding them down your legs with nothing but a sinful smirk, pink lace caught between his pearly whites like it didn’t get your stomach churning all over again; pupils blown, face flushed red, heart beating in a frenzy when he uses his tongue to drop them onto the floor.

And you can’t, and will never forget the way he’s spreading your reddened thighs with his palms, fucking into you like this is truly the last time he’ll ever see your face.

Every thrust of his hips against yours knocks the wind out of your lungs. You feel him so impossibly deep that your throat feels clogged—the stretch makes your mind go numb, and God, how could you forget how big Yang Jungwon is when he’s bruising your poor cunt like this?

“Good fucking girl,” and his lips are pressed up against yours like it has nowhere else to go. “Made for me, I swear—so fucking perfect.”

His length pumps in and out of you with no real effort, all sloppy and squelching like there wasn’t anyone else in this neighbourhood to be considerate of. The backboard’s hitting the wall, chipping at the paint, and for a brief moment you let yourself roll your eyes at the thought of painting it over—just when you thought you’d never have to again.

“F-fuhhh…” you drawl, hands coming up around his neck at some attempt at stabilizing yourself. Every hit has your toes curling and your body rocking, nails digging into the flesh of his clean, well-sculpted back. “S-shit, Jungwon—feels so deep—“

“Yeah?” he laughs, low and short-lived before he feels you squeeezing on him. “Fuck, you’re so cute. Acting like you haven’t taken me everywhere in this apartment.”

You’re close to tears by this point. Your fingers tangle in his dark hair, now soaked in sweat instead of rain, and it should disgust you—it should be revolting, the way most people’s bodily fluids are, but you’re laid here anyway— glossy lips sucking on his neck, where you know he’s most sensitive, taking in his scent like it’s all you’ll ever know.

He smells so fucking good when he’s fucking you like it’s his life’s purpose.

You feel his pulse under your tongue. You also feel the way his cock is swelling up in your walls, taking up more and more and more of you, until you’re gasping for air and his pace is almost fucking frantic. Jungwon feels like he’s losing himself in you.

“See,” he moans, breath all hot and loud, leaning right into your ear like it isn’t the most filthy thing he’s done. “You’ll always belong to me.”

And as your friends would say*: you did this to yourself*. The desperate nods come as soon as the last word leaves his lips—your ears pick up on every grunt and huff from him, his big arms caging you in once again as you’re trying to recollect your thoughts. Everything’s too much, the room smells like sex and sin and everything you’ve resolved to stay away from, with the man you love right in the centre of it all.

“J-Jungwon, fuck, I can’t,” you gasp when you feel your throbbing clit dragging against his length, impossibly hard and aching for more of you. “We can’t do this—“

“Shhh,” and his hands are so, so gentle when they come up to caress your tear-stained cheeks. You’re sniffling like this isn’t the best high you’ve experienced in your life—you just lean into his touch, pathetic, staring into his pseudo-soft expression as if it had any real concern. “Yes, you can—and you will.”

Jungwon feels you clamp down on him just then, jaw going slack at just how heavenly your pussy feels. It’s criminal that he’s almost forgotten it, forgotten how well you take him, how good and pliant you get when he’s splitting you open—how you welcome him inside every time, despite all your little pleas and stubbornness.

He knows how to get to you. Yang Jungwon knows that nobody will ever fuck you like how he does, and that every man that comes after will have to remember that you belong to him before anyone else. They’ll have to remember that you get all shy when he whispers in your ear, or that you can cum just from his middle finger alone.

Everyone will know. They don’t have a choice.

“Fuuuck,” he rasps, nose bumping into your jaw as he breathes you in. You smell so much like him that he’s beginning to lose his very little composure remaining. “Gonna cum, Y/N—shit, I’m gonna cum—“

“Hngh, ‘m close too,” your arms find themselves tightening around him, desperately searching for something to hold onto. His muscles are flexing with every desperate rut, every frantic roll of his hips, and God, he’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t going dumb at the idea of filling you up. You’d be all warm inside, his cock plugging you closed as he empties himself into your battered cunt, and you’d take every single drop of it like it was what you’ve always meant to do.

“God, I love you so much,” he whispers, and though it makes your eyes shoot open, you find yourself muttering the same phrase back to him. There’s something sweet in the way he leans in close, just to give you a tender kiss, and then the room flips upside down when his tongue is sliding at your bottom lip again; soon enough, he gets messy, and you’re moaning into each other like you’re the only two people on this street.

“Always mine, mineminemine,” Jungwon huffs. “Don’t ever forget it, mm? You belong to me.”

It crashes into you. Blinding, deafening, like something in you just exploded after the pressure’s built up for months.

You’re soaking him shamelessly, hot and dizzying—Jungwon’s moans sound like they’ve been clipped straight from a porno, disgustingly loud, and still: it makes your orgasm shake. Electricity is buzzing through you, and just what does your ex know to do when you’re crumbling like this?

Go deeper.

“Fuckfuckfuck—w-wait, Jungwon!”

Your pleas mean nothing. He’s being selfish, and he knows it. He doesn’t care if it’s too much, he doesn’t care if you’re crying because he’s too big, he doesn’t care if you’re going to cum on his cock for the fifth time in an hour.

Oh, and he definitely doesn’t care that you’re not together anymore. That’s never stopped him, has it?

“Shit,” his hips snap into you, ruthless, unforgiving, bruising your cervix like it’s personally wronged him. “Wanna get back together, mm?”

“You’re… hngh—you’re crazy, Jungwon!”

“Worth a try.”

© kissued 2026 — do not repost, edit, redistribute or translate my work without prior permission and credit. all my work is strictly fictional and not an accurate representation of these people in real life.

[courire]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ （ 📂 ） TAKE ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎TWO ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎양정원

𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎jungwon realises he wants you back in his life.

𝗛𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗦。ex husband !jungwon ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ fashion editor !reader 𝑓𝑡 co-parenting ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎🍙 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗒

OO1 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎OO2 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎OO3 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎OO4 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎OO5 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎OO6

from, malena ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎new series! this was a request which was too good to be ignored ... just an overview — yejun is their son, jay is a model, sunoo is a make up artist, reader is fashion editor, jungwon just has a job ... heeseung and jungwon work at the same place!

[rikimuse]

sign the petition to bring heeseung back!! (if haven't already) we need to reach 2 mil

https://c.org/PNjGXsVpTr

[prettybs]

BABY GIRL ⋆౨ৎ˚ —NRK

you and Riki are first time parents of your one month old daughter Naya. everything is new and a little chaotic, but in a good way.

✿ pairing: babydaddy!riki x reader

contains: pure fluff established relationship riki and reader have a daughter ᰔ

⊹

The front door clicks open a little before five, and you don’t even look up from the stove because you already know it’s him.

Your baby Naya’s been fussing for the past ten minutes, crying every time she’s not in your arms. So here you are stirring pasta with one hand, resting her on your hip with the other.

“Hey,” Riki calls out, shoes getting kicked off somewhere in the hallway. “I’m home.”

“I’m in the kitchen, baby,” you answer, shifting Naya higher up on your. hip. Her tiny fist gripping the fabric of your shirt.

He appears a second later, bag still slung over his shoulder, hair messy from the day. The second he sees you struggling with a pot, a spoon, and a baby, his expression softens completely.

“Oh—” he starts, already stepping closer. “Hey, hey.”

You lean toward him so he can kiss you, his lips brushing yours softly. Before he can even pull away, you sigh.

“Can you take her? She’s getting heavy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got her,” he says immediately, sliding his hands under Naya and taking her from your arms. She settles against his chest the moment he has her.

“There you go,” he murmurs, voice dropping into that really soft tone he only uses with her. “Hi, angel. Daddy missed you so much today.”

Naya lets out a tiny sound and his face lights up like she just told him a secret.

“Did you hear that?” he asks you, eyes wide. “She knows i’m her dad.”

You snort, turning back to the stove. “She made the exact same noise when Jay held her.”

“That’s different,” he says seriously, adjusting her so her head rests under his chin. “He didn’t help make her.”

He sways gently from side to side without even thinking about it, one hand supporting her back, the other patting her butt in a slow rhythm. You watch him for a second longer than you mean to, the way his shoulders relax now that he’s holding her.

“So,” he says, glancing over at you. “How was your day, mama?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Chaotic.”

He winces sympathetically. “Yeah?”

“She cried all afternoon,” you add. “Wouldn’t nap unless I was holding her. The second I put her down—” you make a little exploding motion with your hand. “I ended up just laying down with her.”

Riki clicks his tongue sympathetically. “Little drama queen. Gets that from you.”

He grins, then looks back down at Naya. “Were you crying a lot today, huh? Giving mommy a hard time?”

Naya blinks up at him, completely unimpressed.

He shifts her slightly so she’s facing you both and tilts her toward the stove. “Look, angel. You see that? Mommy’s cooking pasta for us. She’s been doing everything today.”

He looks back at you. “She’s calm.”

“Yeah. For now,” you say. “I’m not trusting it.”

“She’s calm because i’m holding her.” He jokes. You roll your eyes, smiling.

He presses a quick kiss to your cheek. His hand settles at your waist, thumb rubbing there while he talks.

He watches her face for a second, then looks back at you. “You okay though?”

You nod. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He straightens, adjusting Naya in his arms. “Alright. You cook. I’ll walk her around a bit.”

By the time dinner’s done and Naya’s fed, Riki clears the table without being asked, scraping plates and sliding everything into the dishwasher. You hear cabinets opening and closing while you’re already in the bathroom, getting things ready.

You fill the small baby tub in the sink, checking the temperature with your own hand. Not too hot, not too cold. You lay out her towel on the dresser nearby, tiny pajamas folded next to it, diaper ready.

Naya fusses a little when you undress her, her face scrunching up like she’s about to cry. “I know, I know,” you murmur, lowering her into the water slowly. “Just a bath, baby. Promise.”

Once she’s in, she relaxes almost immediately. Her arms float, legs kicking gently, and you smile without even realizing it. You wash her carefully, talking to her the whole time like she understands every word.

“Long day, huh?” you whisper. “You tired now?”

She makes a small noise, blinking up at you, and you lean closer. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Mommy’s gonna give you your bottle after this and then you’ll fall right asleep.”

Riki shows up in the doorway a few minutes later. “How’s it going in here?”

“She’s being good,” you say. “Can you grab her in a sec? I’ll get her bottle ready.”

He nods and steps closer. “Yeah, I got her.”

You lift Naya carefully and hand her to him, still warm and damp. He takes her with both arms, she’s already smiling at him.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, already turning away.

Riki lays her down gently on the dresser, patting her dry with slo. “Okay,” he says softly. “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

He wraps her in the towel, pulling the little teddy bear hood over her head. It’s slightly too big, slipping down over her forehead, and he chuckles softly as he adjusts it.

“Look at you,” he says quietly. “All clean.”

He lifts her against his chest and starts pacing the bathroom, small steps, swaying side to side.

“Are you gonna let mommy and daddy sleep tonight, angel?”

“I doubt that.” You say with a smile as you step in and reach out to take her from Riki.

The bottle’s ready by the time you carry Naya into her room, the lights dimmed low. You change her slowly, slipping her into her sleeping bag and settling into the chair next to the crib. She latches onto the bottle easily, eyes already heavy, her tiny hand resting against your finger.

You sway a little as she drinks, humming under your breath without really thinking about it.

She’s almost done when Riki quietly steps into the doorway.

You immediately shoot him a look and lift a finger. “Shh.”

He freezes mid-step, and he nods. He walks over slowly, like the floor might creak if he’s not careful.

When Naya’s eyes finally close, you stand carefully, holding her close. Riki leans in and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, barely touching her.

“Night, angel,” he whispers.

You lower her into the crib, hovering for a second just to make sure she stays asleep. She doesn’t stir.

Back in the living room, you collapse onto the couch without a word. You turn the TV volume down and settle between Riki’s legs, his back against the armrest, your head resting against his chest. He automatically reaches up, fingers combing through your hair, slow and familiar.

You melt into it almost immediately.

A few minutes pass. Your breathing evens out, your body getting heavier against him. He notices before you’re fully asleep, his thumb brushing your temple.

“Baby,” he murmurs softly. “Let’s go to bed.”

You hum in response, barely awake.

He smiles to himself. “We’re both tired,” he adds. “And she’s gonna wake us up in like three hours anyway.”

You nod against his chest, eyes closed, already half gone. He gives your hair one last gentle stroke before shifting carefully.

“Come on,” he whispers.

You barely talk while getting ready for bed. Brushing teeth side by side, changing into pj’s.

You crawl into bed first and roll onto your side, slipping one leg over his. He pulls you closer without thinking, arm settling around your waist like it belongs there. You press a quick kiss to his lips, sleepy and warm.

“Goodniht,” you murmur.

“Night, baby,” he answers, already half out.

Sleep comes fast.

A sharp, loud cry cuts through your sleep a few hours later.

You both stir, no one moves right away. You groan into the pillow, half-awake, delusional enough to think maybe she’ll stop on her own if you don’t move. Riki shifts beside you, dragging the blanket up like it might block the sound.

The cry comes again, louder.

You mumble “She’s crying.”

He lets out a long breath through his nose. “Mmh. I know.”

Another scream.

You nudge his side with your knee, signing for him to go.

He rolls onto his back “You go.”

You crack one eye open. “No. I went yesterday.”

He turns his head toward you, eyes barely open. “I’ll do it for the rest of the week if you go right now.”

You shake your head and make a fake exaggerated snoring sound.

There’s a dramatic sigh before he pushing himself up.

You smile into the pillow as he drags himself out of bed.

You hear his footsteps down the hall. The door to Naya’s room opens, and a moment later you hear his voice through the baby monitor. “Hey Naya… hey, it’s okay. Daddy’s here.”

He lifts her carefully, cradling her against his chest. “What’s all this about, huh?” he whispers. “It’s the middle of the night.”

The crying doesn’t stop.

He sways slowly, pacing the room. “Shh… shh. I got you. It’s okay.” He presses his cheek to her hair, rocking her back and forth. “Sleep babygirl…”

He tries the pacifier. She takes it for half a second then spits it out and wails louder.

He exhales a tired laugh. “Okay. Got it.”

He sits down on the edge of the bed, bouncing her softly on his knee. “What do you want from me, hm?” he murmurs. “I’m doing my best here.”

He stands again, walking slow circles around the room, whispering nonsense to her, anything that might work.

“Shh Naya… yeah… daddy’s got you…”

Five minutes pass. She’s still upset. You hear it all from the bedroom. The crying hasn’t softened at all.

With a sigh, you push yourself out of bed.

The door to Naya’s room is open. Riki’s standing there, rocking her, looking tired but patient.

“She won’t—” he starts, then stops when you step closer.

You take her from his arms without a word.

“Shh sweetie, mommy’s here.”

Almost instantly, the crying softens. Then quiets. Her body relaxes against you like she’s been waiting for this.

Riki blinks. “You’re kidding.”

You sway gently, “Don’t be mad at me,” you whisper. “Be mad at her.”

Her body relaxes in your arms. “Shhh…” You whisper once more to Naya.

He watches for a second, then shakes his head with a tired laugh. “Does she hate me or what.”

“She doesn’t,” you say softly. “She’s just a mama’s girl.”

He snorts. “Nah. She’s definitely a daddy’s girl.”

You glance at him, smiling. You turn and show him Naya’s sleepy eyes in your arms. “You see that? Mama’s girl.”

“Alright then. Next time, I’m pretending I didn’t hear anything.”

You snort quietly. “Sure you are.”

Riki steps closer, carefully helping you lay her back down in the crib.

—

The next morning the baby monitor cracks softly. No crying, just little noises and rustling.

Riki blinks awake, eyes still heavy, listening.

She’s awake. He has like 5 minutes to get her out of bed before she starts crying.

He glances at the clock, he looked but his mind didn’t process the time, he believes he saw an 8. You’re still asleep, arm draped over his waist, breathing slow and even. He smiles to himself and carefully slides out from under your hold.

He slips out of the bedroom and into Naya’s room, closing the door softly behind him. He pulls the curtaint open just enough to let the morning light in.

Naya’s already wide awake, kicking her legs, eyes bright when she spots him.

“Hi angel,” he whispers, instantly softer. “Good morning.”

He leans over the crib and picks her up, tucking her against his chest. She lets out a little sound that almost sounds like a laugh, lips curling up in a gummy smile.

“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs. “You’re happy to see me now?”

He rocks her gently, pacing the room. “Mama’s still sleeping, okay? We’re gonna let her sleep.”

He looks down at her little face. “You hungry?” he asks quietly. “Yeah. Thought so.”

He carries her into the living room and sets her gently in the playpen, dropping a toy near her so she’s distracted for a second. He moves around the kitchen, preparing her bottle on autopilot, still half asleep.

Once it’s ready, he scoops her back up and settles onto the couch, turning the TV on low. Some random comedy show fills the room, entertaining enough for now.

He props her in his arm and feeds her, watching her drink while his head leans back against the couch. His eyes keep slipping shut, then opening again, making sure she’s okay.

“Big breakfast today?,” he murmurs. “All that crying got you hungry.”

After she finishes, he slides down so he’s lying back on the couch, a pillow under his head. He places her on his chest, holding her securely so she’s sitting on his chest.

She stares at his face like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

He wiggles his fingers in front of her. “What?” he asks softly. “You got something to say?”

She answers with little noises, her tiny hands grab his fingers.

He laughs quietly. “Yeah? That’s crazy. Tell me more.”

She babbles again, completely serious.

He nods along like he understands every word. “Mm. You’re a daddy’s girl, huh Naya?”

She lets out a high pitched noise in return. Riki smiles and nods. “Yeah that’s right. Don’t tell mama.”

Riki doesn’t even remember falling asleep.

One second he’s blinking at the TV, listening to Naya’s tiny sounds, the next his eyes are closed and he’s passed out on the couch. His head tilts slightly to the side, mouth parted just a little. Naya stays awake though, calm, resting on his chest. One of his arms is still wrapped around her, hand firm against her back, holding her there on pure instinct.

Ten minutes later, you wake up to an empty spot beside you.

The bedroom is quiet. Naya isn’t crying. That’s what makes your heart speed up just a little. You slip out of bed and peek into her room. Empty.

You head towards the living room, and the moment you see them, your chest tightens in the best way.

Riki is sprawled across the couch, completely knocked out, one arm curled around your daughter. Naya’s lying on her stomach on his chest, awake and peaceful.

Your heart flutters, you pull your phone out without thinking and take a picture.

Then you step closer and carefully slide Naya out of his arms.

“Good morning, baby,” you whisper to her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Did daddy feed you already?”

She makes a small noise in response.

You smile and glance back at Riki. “Yeah, he’s tired,” you murmur. “You’ve been waking him up every night.”

You place Naya into the playpen and head into the kitchen. You make breakfast without much thought, ccereal for yourself, a sandwich for him.

When you’re done, he’s still asleep, taking up most of the couch.

You carry his plate over and set it on the small table, then look down at him for a second, amused.

Then you climb right on top of him.

He groans immediately, brows furrowing, hands lifting instinctively to your hips.

“Excuse me, sir,” you say softly. “Move your long legs out of the way.”

He groans, eyes still closed. “Mm… five more minutes.”

“You already took fifteen.”

He squints one eye open, then the other, finally registering you sitting on him. “Hmm,” he mutters. “Good morning to me.”

“You fed the baby and passed out?” you say, leaning down.

He scoffs, rubbing his face. “Mhm.”

He pulls you down into his chest, arms wrapping around you.

You press a kiss against his jaw. “I made you breakfast.”

“Thank you baby.” He mumbles with his eyes closed, no intention of getting up just yet.

You’re tired, he’s tired. You rest on his chest for a second, listening to his heartbeat, the quiet sounds of Naya in the background, the morning sun filling the room.

You both might fall asleep again while the breakfast is waiting to be eaten, but you don’t really care. You just want this moment to last a little longer.

⊹

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[rikimuse]

cutest thing ever

[rikimuse]

Hi the same anon who talked to you when you were bored. An Jayhoon edit recently gave me a little check. This is the edit:

https://x.com/phylocally/status/2003240049438281797?s=46

I’m thinking about the Dark Blood cinema teaser (featuring Model Jiwon/Sooha)

There is this scene were Sunghoon stabs Jay right? All the other Enha members are literally hunting Sooha and Sunghoon down (willing to use violent tactics against Sunghoon, their brother)

Now what I’ve noticed the moment were Jay gets stabbed he doesn’t look angry. Look at his eyes, they widen and he freezes. He’s scared that his brother Sunghoon actually stab him. Like really stab him.

We see Jay and Sunghoon have a special connection(only unit iykyk) That’s why he doesn’t look mad or angry. No he’s more shocked, sad and scared that Sunghoon was ready to even kill him for Sooha.

I have the theory that Jay had the thought/mindset "I’m an exception for Sunghoon, after all we’ve been through a lot and I’m even one of hos first friends (iland)"

They med before iland (just them) in order to practice their performance. Which means Jay is Sunghoon’s first iland friend and Sunghoon is Jay’s first brother (hits more when you remember that he’a an only child)

Did I cook?

anon you might be onto something here. I haven't seen a take like this on jayhoon ever but you did cook