#I guess. Question mark. I just like the makeup.

[mylove-thresher]

haven’t posted drawings in a while (well. A while to me.) so even tho I should probably work on my multiple school projects. I’m. I’m just a girl. ❤️

[zyafics]

CAN YOU PLEASE, PLEASE ON MY KNEES WRITE ABOUT BITCHY!READER X RAFE AND IT'S SMUT?? I FEEL LIKE YOU'LL DO IT JUSTICE!!! thank you

you literally read my mind because i was just thinking of this prompt that works so well with bitchy!reader!! hope you'll enjoy <3 (if it’s bad, look away!!)

WHATEVER SHE WANTS | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot)

Pairing — Rafe x Bitchy!Kook!Female Reader

Content — 18+, power/dominance play, p in v, doggy style, orgasm denial, and dirty talks

Word Count — 2.2K

lıllılı Whatever She Wants by Bryson Tiller

You always wanted Rafe.

It's your right. Since you were a child, you demanded the best in everything—toys, clothes, boyfriends. They had to be perfect. Had to be yours. And yes, it may come off a little superficial but who cares? It's what you deserve, and it'll be hell if you don't get it.

Since the first look, when you caught Rafe lounging on a chair with his friends, tipping the rim of his beer onto his lips, while his eyes scanned over the room in an attractive lazy way, you knew you had to have him. It didn't help that you were competitive, and Rafe garnered attention with women. They flocked to him and begged for a minute of his time. It became a game to you, and that heightened your need.

Everything was calculated. The makeup you wore, the outfits you curated, the glances. You always timed your arrivals—when you knew Rafe would be watching the door—and marked your exits. You knew exactly what to wear—dresses that tantalizing exposes your ass, but only as a preview—and the cosmetic style he liked. Rafe's the type of man who believes he wants a bare-faced woman, but truly, he wants something natural that enhances your features.

You came with friends. You left alone. You drank enough to loosen your nerves and danced with the crowd, but not enough to make a fool of yourself. You knew your tolerance and knew Rafe didn't like a messy girl.

At least, in public.

You caught his gaze a couple of times, flashing a flirtatious smile over your shoulders, but never lingered longer than three seconds. Rafe can't know how easy he can have you, because Rafe, like most boys, loves a chase. You're not easy, you're spoiled. He had to come to you.

And he did.

Rafe tried to introduce himself on several occasions. On those nights when you're leaving early—as planned—Rafe would cut to the door to pay a parting remark. "You're leaving so soon?" he would ask, "Alone? Again?" He would add. You always told him it was because no one caught your eye, and Rafe took that as a personal challenge. He would then try to tell you his name, as if he were different, to which you nod—detached—as if it didn't matter.

It drove him insane.

Because you didn't offer the same courtesy. You kept him guessing. He had to finally ask around to learn your name, which he would use to tease you the next time he saw you. And he did. And you laughed. But you acted like you didn't care. Like all the trouble he went through didn't prove a thing. That's when Rafe knew he needed you.

Tonight's no different. Just as you're about to leave, Rafe catches you with another smooth pick-up line. You just giggle. He studies how your eyes crinkle with amusement, the curve of your lips painted in his favorite shade of lipstick, and the lithe tilt of your head to the side as you ask him with your gaze, is that the best you got?

It isn't. But Rafe's determined to get further with you tonight. He continues to talk, asking about which men disappointed you and the reasons for your constant disappearances from these parties. And, for once, you're answering his questions with little resistance. Perhaps, it's because of the amount of cheap wines you consumed, or maybe you—for once—are tired of the games and want it to come to a fruitful end. Because when Rafe finally asks to take you home, you don't say no.

The walk to his truck is brisk. His arm wrapped around your waist, directing your path, while his fingers trail over the backless cut of your dress, producing a buzzing feeling beneath your skin. He's whispering something in your ear, but all of it is incomprehensible as you revel in the feeling of his touch and his touch alone. The feeling of your game coming to a conclusion.

And, just as you're about to reach the car, Rafe slams you into the side of the vehicle with a searing kiss.

His mouth catches yours and everything feels perfect. As if the buildup leading to this precise moment had been worth it, and every needy emotion rises to the top. His hand travels down the length of your body, to your hips, pulling you closer, and needing to eliminate all the space and wait you made him do.

Rafe's movements are swift and controlled. One of his hands props open the backdoor of his car, pushing you inside, and laying you against his leather seats. All without breaking the kiss.

"You don't know how long I wanted this, wanted you," Rafe blubbers between wet kisses. "Seeing you at every party, in these tiny dresses, not being able to touch," he rasps, bundling the hem of your dress into a tight fist. "Tell me you wear them for me."

"And if I did?" You say with a moan, tipping your head back to grant him access to your neck. "Did you like them?"

"Of course I did," he murmurs against the curve of your neck, the vibration of his words sending heat straight to your core. "You dressing up for me like my own perfect doll."

You want to retort that it's him who's in the palm of your hand, but Rafe sucks on a sensitive spot, causing your eyes to roll back and a whimper to escape your lips instead. He grabs your wrists with one hand, throwing them over his shoulder as he pulls you flush against his chest.

"So pretty, so fucking untouchable," Rafe kisses down the length of your throat, his fingers collecting the spaghetti straps of your dress before sliding it down the slope of your shoulders. "I'm going to fuck you so good."

His words snap you out of your haze. And while Rafe continues to expose more of your body, lamenting each reveal of flesh with a kiss, you withdraw enough to grab his attention.

"You're not fucking me in a car."

"What?" Rafe breaths, unable to snap out of the trace you had him in. Delirious with want, his mind warped around the idea of you being so close to attainable, that all rational manners left his system. He tries to kiss you again, to resume the moment, but you pull enough to send him a deadly glare, pouty and spoiled.

"Rafe, take me somewhere nice or we're not fucking at all."

He can't believe what he's hearing. He can't believe he's contemplating it. But Rafe doesn't understand that you have it all planned out to result in a perfect moment. You won't let it be disrupted just because Rafe can't drive the extra mile to take you somewhere nice. You'd rather leave him with blue balls.

"Are you serious?" He asks slowly, his eyes drawn to your swollen lips, the little pout, and the desperation to have them back on his. Sure, Rafe's had girls who wanted something more than a casual fling. He had them ask him for a better spot, but he never obliged. He never cared. But you're different. He wants you, and it's been a hell of a chase to get you here. He'll be damned if he lets it slip away because of a pretentious standard.

"Does it look like I'm joking?" You cross your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts further up. He nearly groans at the sight. "We're not having sex here."

"The nearest place has to be at least a fifteen-minute drive," Rafe argues. And it makes you upset, brows pinched together. "We can just—"

"I don't care," you snap. "Take me somewhere nice or I'm leaving."

You're serious. He sees it on your face. Rafe can't risk that, despite wanting to protest, because he knows he if he messes this up, he won't have another chance. Swearing under his breath, he drags himself out of the backseat and into the driver's side, pulling the car out of the parking lot.

Dangerously, Rafe speeds down the road, while you're sitting in the backseat with a self-satisfied demeanor, fixing your makeup through the rearview mirror. Occasionally, Rafe spares a glance through the same reflection, connecting with your gaze, and while there's subtle bitterness coiled in his chest, he recognizes the bigger prize at hand.

And what he can do with it.

Because, despite your bratty attitude, Rafe is a person who wants control. You want perfection. You two can have both.

That's how you find yourself in a newly-booked penthouse suite at one of the bougie hotels in Kildare, your head digging into the soft comforter of the bed, your ass in the air, as Rafe drills into you from behind.

When you reached the room, everything moved frantically. Rafe slammed you against the nearest wall to kiss you again—needing your lips, needing your taste—while his hands roamed over your dress and pulled down your cleavage, revealing your tits. Your hands wandered down his pants, unbuttoning them hurriedly, needily, and he assisted you by pulling them off alongside his boxers. His cock was big, slightly red with a pearly bead of pre-cum that rolls off the tip. And you could tell by the look on Rafe's face that he wanted you to suck it.

But you told him, "I don't do blowjobs."

So fucking pretentious.

It didn't matter. He hauled you over to the king-sized bed and pushed you onto the mattress. You landed with a soft thump, while Rafe hauled you up to your ass, pushing up your dress, until it became nothing but a bundle around your waist. His movements were urgent, and he wanted—no, needed—to be inside you because a bratty girl was going to be a great fuck.

And he was right.

You're perfect. The way you wrap around him, the way he sinks inside you. He doesn't know if it's because of the delirium of wanting you so desperately, of chasing you for so long—but he never had better pussy. And it doesn't help that your moans are sweet, breathy, and loud—begging him to go faster.

"Such a pretentious brat," Rafe grabs your throat, hauling you upwards till your spine rest on his chest, airway constricted by his harsh grip. "Making me wait this fucking long."

"R—Rafe," you mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at the way he's angling his cock deep into your cervix, bullying the sensitive spot over and over again until you're seeing stars.

"Had to get the princess treatment, did you?" He murmurs hotly into your ear, nibbling a spot on your neck as you rest the back of your head on his shoulder. His thrusts grow more erratic. "Had to make me earn you, didn't you?"

"You weren't going to fuck me in a car," you persist, and despite how cockdrunk you became, and how much of an attitude you're willing to sacrifice to feel good, you were still adamant about receiving what you deemed enough. He respected that. "I'm not one of your whores."

"But I'm fucking you like my own personal slut. Is that any better?" He bites the lobe of your ear, and his other hand wanders up to grab a handful of your breast, squeezing the fat before rolling your perked nipple between his fingers. You moan louder. "What does that make you?"

You can't seem to answer him, can't seem to find your senses. The words Rafe uses are vulgar, but there’s still no regrets about this entire thing. Rafe wanted you so badly, that he was willing to spend hundreds of dollars on a hotel he probably won't even stay the night in. All because you demanded it.

You win.

"Shut up," you stammer, your stomach tightening. "Shut up and just fuck me, Rafe."

Rafe grins. The hand playing with your tits slips between your thighs to assist, finding your clit easily as he rubs it with his thumb in sync with his thrusts. Breathy moans escape you as you arch into his palm, while he pistons deeper inside of you, bottoming out.

"You sound so pretty, doll," Rafe murmurs against your heated skin, "Come on, take my fucking cock."

Everything’s so dirty. The way he handles you, the way your wetness drips down your thighs, the way his words breathe onto your skin and tighten your core. But you love it. You do, but you're not willing to give in so easily. No matter how good it feels. No matter how much he feels like a prize.

"You don't deserve me." You whisper with a mewl, body tightening with the familiar wave of your undoing.

Yet, Rafe merely grins.

"But you're sucking in my cock like you need me," Rafe taunts, pleasure coursing through his body at the way your walls grip him in a vice. The way your words spark challenge and invitation. He knows, despite your spoiled attitude and pretentious demands, he'll do anything to get another chance like this. "Now, behave like a good girl or you're not coming tonight."

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[nochepsicodelica]

Toji who leaves hickeys all over you so often that you have to push him away when you start looking like you fought an octopus.

"Toji, you know these aren't always gonna be so small. They're gonna end up looking like bruises. Just look at the ones you already left."

"Mhm," he hums, already leaving another one on your shoulder blade, releasing your skin with a wet smack of his lips. He rubs his spit into the mark like it's some sort of salve that'll make it last longer.

"I'm fine with these," you say, looking at all the one's he left on your chest and below. "but my neck... i'm running out of makeup, baby. I won't be able to cover them if you keep this up."

"Then don't." He would just love that. Despite how nonchalant he sounds about it, it's a highly recommended suggestion. He would genuinely love it if you walked around with his marks all over your neck. People will automatically know that you already have someone you get freaky with.

"I have to go to work sometime. I wouldn't be able to take having my neck stared at by everyone I talk to. No more neck hickeys."

He nears your neck, again. The second you say he can't put another mark on it, he spots a clear area and leans in, lightly pressing his lips against it.

"Tojiii," you whine, leaning forward, away from him. "Leave it alone."

"But, it's clear. It's lonely without being marked like the rest of your neck." He scoots forward again, putting his enormous hands on your waist to pull you close. "I'll be quick. Just-"

"Mm-mm. No," you interrupt, brushing his hands off of you.

"I might just die if you don't let me do this, ma."

"Really?" You raise your brows in disbelief.

"Really," he responds, so confidently.

You scoff. "You're so dramatic. You won't die if you don't get to suck on my neck."

"Who knows? I might spontaneously collapse because of it. Weirder, more unexplainable things have happened."

He's so dumb sometimes. Your hunk is absolutely ridiculous, and yet you find yourself weighing towards his point in this.

"Would marking up that blank space actually cure you?" You feel as silly as him for asking the question.

"Who's to say?"

You tilt your head and deadpan. "Right. I guess i'll take my chances and just keep the random patch of unmarked skin on my neck."

"Hey, that doesn't mean we can't try. Come on, now."

You groan and roll your eyes before making your way back to him. He cups your cheeks, smirking as he looks into your eyes, before turning your head to expose the blank area on your neck.

"It's a reaaally good spot, doll. I think i'm gonna make it."

You huff, unable to look at him because of the way your head is turned. You feel his tongue slide over your neck, the gesture transitioning to his lips kissing the area and then it feels sharp. His lips leave a stinging sensation with every second that they stay on you.

"Ow, fuck, you vampire. It feels like you're actually trying to suck the blood out of me." You wince. "Are you done?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm done." He admires his masterpiece and smirks with pride. You have an entire collar of hickeys that he put on you, and the newest one looks mean.

"You look pretty. Could eat you up, mama." He swipes at the new mark with his thumb, looking at the color that will remain on your skin for the next few days.

"I can tell. You already devoured me. You're insane. Just look at all of this," you say, running your hand over your kiss stained neck.

"I was just nibbling on you," he speaks, into your jaw, before smoothly laying you down, onto the bed. "Just wanted a little taste," he says, taking your hands in his and pinning them above your head. "Am I really insane for that?"

"Um..." you laugh, making your flustered state obvious. "Yes?"

"Damn." He gives you a long, deep kiss, that makes you forget what you were talking about. "You think i'm crazy?" You hum, and he does it again.

"Haven't you played with me enough? I feel like i'm some chew toy for you." You giggle, feeling his lips on your cheek, trailing towards your jaw.

He hums, dismissively. "Found more blank space."

[tacoguacamole]

ANOTHER TIME | JJK - 7

Summary: All you wanted was time. Time to love your husband. Time to feel him love you back. To see his smile again, not shadowed by grief and resentment. Time to share laughter instead of silence, warmth instead of distance. To feel his arms around you, not the cold of where he used to be. Time to hear “I love you too” before it’s too late. Time should’ve been simple.

But somehow, it always slips through your fingers just when you need it most.

[Pairing: Creative Director!Jungkook x Ceo!Female Reader]

[Theme: Marriage AU. BF2L2S]

[Warnings: Major Angst, Multiple Flashbacks and Time Jumps, Mature Theme, Smut, Mature/Explicit Language, A lot of fluff, Romance, Slowburn, Hospital Mentions, Childbirth De@th, Alcoholism]

[Older JK, Older OC, Older Bangtan, Lawyer Seokjin and Namjoon, Doctor Yoongi, Event Planner Hobi, Solo idol Jimin, Secretary Taehyung, Brief cameos of Seventeen Mingyu, GOT7 Mark]

[Status: Ongoing]

[Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Chapter Word Count: 10.9k+]

[HEAVY REMINDER: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, or actual events is purely coincidental. It is not intended to harm, defame, or offend any individual or group.]

[Chapter Summary: What began as an escape became a slow unraveling—a quiet erosion of the man he thought he was. Between missed glances, lost words, and too many unspoken things, he drifted further from the life he once built, until even his reflection stopped looking back. And now, with everything laid bare, he begins to understand: some distances aren’t measured in steps, but in the weight of everything left unsaid.]

[MINORS DNI! 18+]

Maybe it wasn’t love—not at first. That’s what Jeongguk told himself, back then. A quiet lie tucked inside a quieter life.

But it felt like peace. And peace was easy to mistake for love. Peace didn’t ask questions. Peace didn’t cry when he came home late. Peace didn’t carry the weight of Ha-yun’s name in every corner of the house.

Peace came in soft silences, in someone else’s apartment, in someone else’s office, in a version of himself he didn’t have to explain.

But peace was never supposed to be permanent. Especially for someone who had caused so much pain and disappointments.

And maybe that’s why the sound of your voice that night still stayed with him.

The kind of voice you remember long after the argument ends. Not because it was loud, but because it was careful. The kind of careful that came after too many cracks had already formed.

“Tomorrow’s the contract signing for the Tuan partnership. Hope you can be there. Eomma’s expecting you too.”

Your voice was soft, almost routine, from across the room—but Jeongguk noticed the tremble in your hands as you wiped off your makeup. Like mentioning the partnership had become something risky. Like you’d practiced the words, bracing for the answer you didn’t want.

When once upon a time, you never had to ask.

Jeongguk used to say yes before you even finished the sentence. No second-guessing. Just pride in the fire you carried, in the way you dreamed bigger than both of you. Now, you spoke like you were afraid to be a burden.

And that—more than anything—dug under his skin.

Jeongguk turned to the bathroom light, as if it could chase away the darkness inside him.

He meant to say, “I haven’t forgotten.” Because he hadn’t. He remembered everything—the late nights you spent drafting proposals, consulting your mother to make sure nothing was missed, the way your eyes lit up the first time Tuan Elegante called you back.

But what came out instead was clipped, distant, “It’s just a contract signing.”

He heard your breath hitch. Your home had been quiet for so long now that you could hear everything—even the things that went unsaid.

Jeongguk wanted to take it back. Tell you he planned to come. That you didn’t even have to ask. He’d even bought a tie. Deep purple to match your dress.

But the words had already landed, and the guilt settled too heavily to shake. Jeongguk knew he didn’t deserve to stand beside you tomorrow—not after where he’d been just two hours earlier, not after what he’d done.

Not after the kiss that started it all.

Jiwoo’s apartment—the quiet place where work blurred into something else after hours. It was supposed to be just a late-night wrap-up for a project due tomorrow. But then came the drinks, and after that, the confessions.

Jeongguk told her how broken he felt. How tired. How he couldn’t breathe in his own house anymore.

And then – he kissed her. In that moment, he convinced himself maybe – just maybe – this was okay.

She kissed him back.

And for a fleeting second, it felt like warmth. Like the kind of intimacy that didn’t ask anything of him. It felt like a version of love he could survive. Jiwoo didn’t expect. She didn’t look at him like he was falling apart. She just let him exist – quietly.

And it felt good to exist like that. To not be needed. To not be loved in a way that held weight.

But then she moaned his name. Another woman – who wasn’t you – had moaned his name.

And that’s when it hit him.

This wasn’t love. This wasn’t peace. This was an escape. An excuse that can never be justified.

Jeongguk had pulled away. Too slow. Too late. Muttered something about needing air. About you.

He hadn’t told you. Not about the kiss. Not about the matching tie he hid in his office drawer. Not about how he hated himself for both.

“It’s not just another event, Gguk.” Your voice cracked in that small, breaking way he hated. And when you begged, “I want you there.” It felt like a knife twisting in his chest repeatedly.

Still, he didn’t turn to you.

“And do what exactly?” he said, pulling the towel from the hook, holding it like a lifeline. “Play the perfect husband? Show off a perfect a marriage? Smile for the cameras so they have more to gossip about?”

The words came out harsher than he meant. Meaner. Jeongguk couldn’t claw them back anymore.

He’d read the online comments. He always did. Headlines with your name. Accusations that you were exploiting tragedy to climb the ladder faster. Voices calling you cold, ambitious beyond reason – someone who put career before family. Harsh whispers claiming you were indifferent to grief, that your drive was hollow, a façade to hide pain.

No one ever mentioned the baby by name. Not Ha-yun. If they did, Jeongguk knew he’d lose control—too angry to hold back, furious that anyone would use her name like that.

Jeongguk had tried to fight for you – calls made behind closed doors to people who owed him favors, people who could nudge stories off the headlines or tone down the harshness before they went live. More calls late into the night, asking for deletions, retractions – anything to keep those cruel words away from you.

But the media was relentless. No matter how hard he pushed, the stories kept multiplying, each one sharper and heavier than the last.

He wanted to protect you from it all. To be the shield you deserved.

But every headline he failed to erase echoed a deeper failure – how much he had already let you down long before the stories started.

Jeongguk’s throat burned, the words lodged somewhere between apology and anger, guilt and frustration. He wasn’t proud of how sharp he’d become, but the pressure had been building too long — the helplessness, the failures, the mounting distance between you both.

"Could've just said no," you whispered, but it was enough to break through the room. "I would've understood. No need to be such a dick about it."

“I did say no. More than once,” he threw the towel onto the floor harder than necessary, feeling the weight of everything he wished he could say but never dared. “You just never fucking listen.”

He saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes. But the damage’s already been done.

“Maybe I was hoping.” Your voice trembled with a mix of anger and pain. “Hoping that you’d still care enough to show up. That you’d still want to stand by me.”

Jeongguk let out a bitter laugh. He hadn’t meant for it to sound so cruel—but his tone always seemed to betray him first. “You really think standing next to you in a room full of strangers will fix this?”

He knew he didn’t deserve to stand beside you. Not after he’d spent the past months abandoning you when you needed him, especially not after he had looked at another woman just to feel like less of a failure.

“This isn’t about fixing anything!” Your voice cracked, raw and desperate. “This is about you showing up! Being there for once, instead of finding another excuse to stay away!”

He clenched his jaw, the anger barely masking the deeper pain twisting inside him.

“You’re not even supposed to be working yet,” his voice sharp and uneven. “Dr. Min told you to rest. Told you not to push yourself. But no, you’re back at it again, throwing yourself into work like it’ll patch up everything you lost.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them—echoes of the cruel headlines he’d fought to erase. Guilt knotted in his chest. He’d failed to protect you, and now he was adding to the pain.

Your chest rose and fell with a harsh breath. “Don’t,” you whispered, voice fragile but fierce. “Don’t you dare put that on me.”

“You never knew when to stop. Even when it meant risking everything.”

Your next words hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Losing Ha-yun wasn’t on me,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “You had a choice that night. Be a father, or stay my husband. You chose.”

Jeongguk went still, the silence rushing in like a tide. It felt like blame, like truth, like a wound pressed open—and he reached for the only thing sharp enough to throw back.

“If you had just—” he started, voice rising despite himself, then broke off, choking on the air. “If you had just looked after yourself better—”

“Say it,” you snapped, fists trembling at your sides. “Say it. Say you blame me.”

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing—because some cruel, broken part of him did, and that was the part he hated.

Your trembling words barely cut through the thick quiet. “If you regret it that much, then maybe you should have let me go that night.”

Jeongguk’s eyes darkened, and for a long, terrible moment, he stared at you, searching for something—redemption, forgiveness, a way back.

“Never said I regretted it,” he finally muttered. He wished those words could erase everything he’d shattered – all the mistakes he’d made. Jeongguk wanted to reach out, to say the words you needed to hear, the ones he truly meant – but he knew they wouldn’t change a thing.

“Yet you can’t even look at me like you love me anymore.”

Jeongguk couldn’t bear to hold your gaze after that. Because if he looked at you any longer, he was afraid you’d see it – that he did still love you.

He just didn’t know how to be the man you needed anymore.

So instead, he turned. His voice came low and flat, like gravel scraping pavement. “I’m going out.”

No warmth. No glance back. Just movement—a grab for his wallet and keys, a quiet exit.

Jeongguk drove aimlessly, the city blurring into a stream of tail lights and neon signs. The windows were up, yet he still felt cold. When he finally stopped by the river, the engine ticking softly in the quiet, he leaned forward and rested his forehead on the steering wheel.

What was he even doing anymore?

The fight replayed in his head in ugly, fractured pieces. Your voice — tired, trembling, angry — still rang in his ears.

He messaged Jiwoo. She replied right away. Told her to meet him at some late-night spot near Itaewon. When they met, she didn’t ask how he was. Didn’t even bring up the kiss. She simply let it dissolve into silence as if it had never happened.

She poured him a drink. Let him talk. About anything. Everything. She kept quiet, looked at him with soft, understanding eyes and brushed his hand when he paused too long.

It felt good. No expectations, no reminders of the hospital or the way you used to hold your stomach like you were already in love with someone you never got to meet.

Jiwoo didn’t ask him to explain. She let him forget.

When Jeongguk came home, you pretended nothing had happened. Didn’t even ask where he’d been the whole night, though he’d seen the hurt in your eyes, the questions you wanted to ask because for the first time, he didn’t return to you.

Still, you let him be.

And maybe that was the real fracture. Not the fight, not the words exchanged.

But the fact that he hadn’t waited for you to make it better.

The distance between him and you only grew—until even the silence felt like punishment. In that space, Jiwoo stayed steady. Always close. Always easy. Never demanding. Never asking.

Maybe that’s why Jeongguk started to linger a little longer in her office. Started texting her things that had nothing to do with work.

Small things like a link to a song he heard on the radio that reminded him of simpler days. A photo of the sunrise from the parking lot, captioned ‘didn’t expect the sky to look like this’. An offhand complaint about the vending machine. Sometimes, dumb memes she’d probably seen already.

Nothing serious. Nothing wrong. But it was more than Jeongguk had offered you.

One morning, he sat by the counter, laptop open, emails flooding in faster than he could delete them. Deadlines stacked, client revisions overdue, a campaign pitch moved up last-minute. His team needing direction. Jeongguk sat there, motionless – cursor blinking on a half-finished reply, mind nowhere near the screen.

Then, without a word, you’d placed a cup of coffee beside him – black, just the way he liked it. In that same mug he’d always use, the one chipped near the handle. It reminded him when you’d steal sips from his cup even though you preferred yours with almond milk. Mornings when you’d always make sure he had his cup of coffee first even though you were already running late.

You didn’t say anything else. Just turned away and moved to the sink, rinsing something quietly.

The coffee was good. Jeongguk hated that it was good. That it still tasted the same. That you still made it the same as if nothing had changed between you.

By night, Jeongguk decided to go to Jiwoo’s office. Told himself it was about work even though she had nothing to do with the projects he was currently buried with.

She looked up when he knocked. “Didn’t expect you.”

“Just needed a breather,” he said, stepping inside like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Jiwoo leaned back in her chair, studying him. “Rough day?”

He gave a tight nod, eyes flicking to her window. “Deadlines. Meetings. Nothing new.”

She didn’t offer comfort. Just silence. It made him want to stay.

“Do you prefer the day or the night?”

Jiwoo wasn’t sure where that question had come from but she answered him anyway. “Night.”

“It’s full of darkness.” Jeongguk squinted at her, trying to understand.

“That’s why I like it,” She smiled faintly, eyes drifting toward the window as if she could already see the stars blooming behind the glass. “It’s honest. The day hides everything in light – noise, movement, expectations. But the night… the night strips things down. You see what’s really there.”

Jeongguk tilted his head, listening.

She went on, softer now. “And the moon doesn’t ask to shine. It just reflects whatever light it can find. Even when it's a sliver, even when it's fading… it still tries.”

There was a quiet moment. Then, “The stars too. They’re so far away, but they still show up. Quiet and constant. I think there's something comforting in that.”

Jiwoo glanced at him, noticing the serious look settling on his face. She smirked slightly. “Let’s cut this philosophy shit. You come here to hear preachings or –?”

Jeongguk raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I literally just asked about the day and night. You’re the one who went sappy.”

“Fuck off, dude.” Jiwoo laughed, stood up, then went to the coffee machine. “Want one?”

“I’m fine,” he said, even though he was far from it.

Still, she brewed him a cup. Set it down anyway. This time, Jeongguk took it without hesitation. And for the first time that day, he didn’t feel like the air was getting sucked out of him.

It became a pattern after that.

Jeongguk would find his way to Jiwoo’s office pretending it was for a break or a file that needed a second look—anything but the truth.

She never asked. Never begged for an explanation. She just gave him her notes, brought him food when he skipped meals, and made space for him beside her desk.

All with the quiet he needed, the quiet that was enough to be an escape and the quiet that didn’t remind him of anything.

Days bled into weeks. Then more months. And before he knew it, the date crept up on him – the one circled in silence, not calendars.

Ha-yun’s first death anniversary.

The memorial hadn’t changed.

It was still the same quiet resting place, tucked away in a corner of the columbarium – a small glass-front niche lit softly by candlelight.

Inside were a few precious things you had chosen together; a tiny stuffed bunny, a folded blanket with your family name stitched in one corner, and a slender silver bracelet Jeongguk had made, engraved with your daughter’s name. Silent reminders of a life that never got to grow.

The granite plaque below bore only her name—Jeon Ha-yun—and a single date, her birth and death sharing the same line, separated by nothing but a hyphen.

You had knelt first, gently brushing away the dust and some stray flowers that had fallen from nearby. Placed the purple tulips in the empty slot on the plaque.

Jeongguk stood beside you, hands clenched deep in his coat pockets, the weight of the day pressing down heavier than he could carry. His eyes flicked to his watch again.

“I’ve got a meeting soon,” he said, not quite looking at you. “How much longer are we going to stay?”

You didn’t answer him right away. Just adjusted the flowers you had bought, your voice soft when it came. “It’s okay. You can go if you want. I can take a cab.”

He hesitated. Wanted to say I can stay—but didn’t. Couldn’t.

“Let me know when you’re done,” he said instead, already backing away.

The meeting didn’t exist. Jeongguk didn’t go to the office. Didn’t go anywhere in particular. Just kept driving past familiar streets that didn’t feel like home anymore. Past cafés where laughter spilled out, past parks full of strangers who didn’t look like they’d ever lost anything.

That night, long after the sun had set and the city was quiet, he went back to the memorial. The cold air bit at his skin, but he barely noticed. Standing before the niche, he whispered into the silence—a confession made to no one but the shadows.

“I miss you. I’m sorry.”

Time passed, the way it always did. Seasons changed and, in the space, where grief once screamed, silence took root. The kind that stayed in walls, in half-finished conversations, in the empty side of the bed left untouched.

Your birthday had arrived in the heart of summer, all sun-drenched mornings and slow, golden afternoons. The wedding anniversary, too – tied to the same day, once so full of meaning. Once a date marked by surprise breakfasts and handwritten notes, by plans you both made just to spend time, even if it was just watching old movies on the living room floor.

Jeongguk had spotted the calendar earlier in that week, on the night stand while you were asleep, turned away from him, the bedside lamp casting a pale light on you. The date wasn’t labeled with words, just enclosed in a purple heart and that was more than enough to deepen the pain he’d been carrying.

He had stared at that heart for a long time. Knew you were looking forward to that day. And he did too.

The suit you made for him – one of the many – stayed where it always did, on the left side of the closet, next to the shirts you used to button for him in the mornings. Jeongguk took it out more than once that week. Hung it out. Smoothed out the lapels. Put it back in. Repeat. Like if he had practiced enough, he’d be able to face you.

But he didn’t face you.

Instead, somewhere in his car in the middle of nowhere, he deleted the address to the place you had texted him – where he was supposed to meet you, then followed it with a text of his own, cold, empty. ‘Happy Anniversary. Happy Birthday’.

Jeongguk felt like he couldn’t celebrate the way you both used to – not when so much of him was unrecognizable. He was far too gone, weighed down by everything he’d done and everything he hadn’t said.

Showing up would only mean more lies. And with lies came pretending. Pretending he was still the man you were in love with. He just couldn’t do it.

By early evening of the day that used to mean everything, Jeongguk found himself at the bottom of a bottle he didn’t remember opening, bitter on the tongue and heavier in the chest. He welcomed the burn – let it blur the parts of himself he didn’t know what to do with.

At some point, between his second bottle of whiskey and some expired chips he’d found in his glove compartment, Jeongguk picked up his phone. Almost messaged you with a pathetic crying and pleading emoji, hundreds of them along with an apology drafted in his Notes app.

But he couldn’t send it. Couldn’t turn grief into a sentence, or guilt into a message that might sound like it was only about tonight when it was really about everything.

So he backed out of the message thread. Closed the app. Hovered over Jiwoo’s name on his contact list instead.

She answered barely five seconds in when he called her. Jeongguk sat there with the phone pressed to his temple, breathing too loud and spitting out anything that came to his mind.

“She booked a restaurant,” he slurred, barely holding the phone steady. “Sent me the address and everything. Texted me twice.”

A sharp breath came out. Then a laugh that’s more of a sob. “She must’ve picked it a month ago. Bet she made sure they had the wine we loved. Probably asked them to put a candle on the table too. Not for her birthday. Just…for the mood, you know?”

He presses the bottle to his forehead, eyes shut tight. “She always thought of everything.”

There’s a pause, thick with whatever pain’s stuck in his chest.

“I deleted the address.” The confession slips out quieter than the rest, like it hurt him to say it out loud. “Fucking erased it, like that made it easier. Thought I could pretend tonight didn’t exist.”

Jeongguk’s voice started to crack. “She probably has this pretty dress on right now,” he mumbled, voice thick with alcohol and emotion. “Knowing her, she tried on like twenty. Maybe thirty. Even asked her mom. Or Hobi Hyung. Or—hell, maybe even that saleslady at that boutique she loves. She must’ve picked a really pretty one.”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand over his face, knocking over something in the car. The clatter echoes. “Oh fuck, her hair. She must’ve done her hair all soft and down just how I like it. Wore that necklace I gave her on our first anniversary when we were just dating. Fuck, I spent my whole first paycheck on that necklace.”

A dry chuckle escapes. Jeongguk was spiraling. “She’s probably still waiting, Jiwoo-yah. At that stupid table. Maybe already ordered for the both of us. Must be looking at the door every time it opened, thinking it’d be me. That’s so like her.”

He leans back in the seat, the headrest catching the full weight of his shame. “I used to be someone she was proud to sit across from. Now I’m the guy who texts greetings like I’m her fucking dentist.”

A sound rustled; the unmistakable creek of a bottle being lifted again. “I’m such a piece of shit,” he mumbles, barely audible now. “She deserves champagne and kisses and a man who shows up, not a failure like me.”

Another shaky breath, and then, quieter than ever, “She always gets cheesecake. On her birthday. It’s her favorite. Says it tastes like being loved.”

Jeongguk’s voice faded into a quiet whimper, then stillness. When he speaks again, it’s softer. Younger. “I hope she still got it. I hope she still let herself feel loved… she deserves that.”

Time kept moving. Jeongguk kept missing things.

Chuseok came and went. He’d sent another text – Sorry, can’t make it. A sick ritual by now. Then turned his phone off. Spent the evening in his car, parked two blocks from home, engine running but going nowhere. Watched the house where both your families had been helping you with dinner trays and folding chairs, the laughter spilling through the windows like it used to.

Jeongguk never got out of the car. Not once. Didn’t want to face your families with how horrible of a person he’d become.

Then Christmas. He left a note in the kitchen. Will be back late. Don’t wait up.

That day, he bought a gift. Picked out something small, a scarf you once mentioned in passing months ago. But he never wrapped it. Never gave it. Just left it in the backseat of Taehyung’s car. Still there. Still untouched. As if a pathetic gift could reverse everything.

New Year’s Eve came quietly.

That morning, over burnt toast and barely sipped coffee – the first breakfast you two shared in months, silence pressed like a third person in the room – when you asked.

“Just us this year,” you said softly. “Namsan Tower… if you’re up for it.”

Jeongguk didn’t plan to say yes. But the words left him anyway. Maybe it was the coffee or your awful attempt at cooking again, cutting the toasts in funny shapes like you’ve always done or how your smile was soft, hopeful.

It made him hope too. Made him wanted to try.

He got a haircut. Dyed his hair black again – washed out the silver like it would rinse the past with it.

He even had a simple bracelet made for you. Nothing flashy. Just something that matched his. A quiet gesture that maybe he could still find his way back. That maybe he could still find his way to you. Meet you.

And he went. All the way to Namsan.

Cab dropped him near the entrance. He stepped out, hands tucked in his pockets, breath curling in the cold. Watched couples link arms, hands laced, eyes lit up with warmth and beginnings.

He stood there for ten minutes.

Then twenty.

Then told himself just a little longer.

But the longer he stood, the more people he saw wrapped in happiness, the more it sank in – that whatever version of him you had been waiting for was gone.

Jeongguk never made it past the gate. Never sent a message. The weight of everything he’d lost, every unspoken apology, all his mistakes, the missed chances – kept him frozen. So, he turned around and left, the bracelet still tucked away in his coat pocket.

He should’ve gone home. Should’ve pretended that sleep would dull the pain, even if only for a few hours.

But instead, he ended up in Jiwoo’s office. He didn’t know what he was looking for – only that he needed to escape the silence, the weight, the hurt. He wanted to bury the sorry excuse of a man he’d become – the disappointment as a husband, a father he couldn’t be.

In that quiet room, something finally broke.

The door had barely clicked shut before he leaned into her, breath ragged like he’d run there. He hadn’t. But it felt that way – like he’d been racing all night, all month, all year, just to feel something that wasn’t guilt.

Jiwoo didn’t question him. She never did. Maybe she knew better. Maybe she didn’t want to know.

Fingers tangled in fabric, lips grazed skin. His suit jacket hit the floor. Hers followed. It wasn’t rushed, not entirely. Just desperate. Heavy.

When she whispered his name, he didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not when every part of him was pretending this wasn’t what it was.

When it ended, Jeongguk sat on the edge of the couch, shirt half-buttoned, staring at the floor like it might open up and take him.

Jiwoo offered a glass of water. He didn’t take it. Just sat there, breathing through the fog.

This wasn’t love. It wasn’t even connection.

But it was escape. And escape, these days, felt easier than facing the mess he'd made.

The next morning, Jeongguk didn’t return home.

Instead, he sat in the company parking lot, not caring about the dirt on his slacks. The sky was a dull gray, and the building behind him was quiet now. He hadn’t gone far after everything. Hadn’t slept. Just sat there, trying to make sense of what he’d done.

But there was no excuse waiting in the silence—only the sickening weight of it. The guilt didn’t hit all at once. It came slowly. Empty. Hollow.

By the time he did go home, you were asleep on the couch. The T.V. had gone quiet. One of the baby books you'd never packed away was still lying open beside you, your fingers curled softly around the edge of the page.

You looked peaceful. As if you'd been waiting for something gentle to return to you, even after being left alone on a night meant to start a new year.

Jeongguk almost broke, right there. Almost dropped to his knees and confessed everything.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he knelt beside you and quietly adjusted the blanket over your shoulders. Then disappeared into the bathroom and showered twice, as if that could erase anything.

Jiwoo didn’t text him. Not the next day. Not the day after. She wasn’t like that.

She’d drawn no lines, made no promises. She was quiet, steady, professional when he passed her in the hallway. Not cruel. Not warm. Just there.

And maybe that was what made it worse—how easy she made it to pretend it never happened. How nothing about her life had shifted while his had gone completely off-axis.

But he couldn’t stay away.

He told himself it was a mistake. One night. A moment.

But the following week, he showed up at her office again. No words. No apologies. No resistance.

And she let him in.

Jeongguk doesn’t remember how it became routine. It wasn’t every night—not even often. It only happened a few times, enough to count on one hand. Still, he knew that wasn’t an excuse. It still fucking happened.

Sometimes when the weight of home pressed against his chest, Jeongguk found himself moving without thinking – texting Jiwoo nothing more than a time, a place. No hearts. No names.

And she never asked for either.

One time it was the stairwell behind their office building. The lights were dim, flickering like they knew they shouldn’t be watching.

He kissed her like he needed to forget something.

She let him. No questions, no noise. Just the rustle of coats and the sound of his breath stuttering into her neck like it was the only place left he didn’t feel like a failure.

Another time it was the back seat of his car. Rain on the windows. Jiwoo’s makeup smudged from his grip on her jaw.

He didn’t ask her if she was okay. Didn’t ask himself, either.

Because here, in this hollow space of skin and distraction, he could pretend for a moment he wasn’t a man unraveling by the hour.

At home, Jeongguk had lost count of how many times he showered. Not to wash off sins he could no longer keep track of. No.

But because the scent left on his skin wasn’t familiar. It didn’t remind him of anything. Not her shampoo. Not the house. Not you.

And somehow, that made everything easier.

Jeongguk told himself it was never about love. It was survival. Escape. A quiet place where the noise inside could dim for a while.

But sometimes, late at night, when Jiwoo’s hand found his, or her breath brushed his skin, the line between need and something more fragile began to blur.

They rarely spoke about what this was. Words felt heavy, too honest, too dangerous.

Instead, their connection lived in small gestures – the way Jiwoo’s fingers lingered just a moment longer on his hand, or how her gaze held steady when his cracked.

He found himself craving those moments – not because he loved her, but because with her, the weight seemed just a little lighter.

Between, few kisses and whispered promises that meant nothing, Jeongguk caught himself wanting more – a fleeting thought of normalcy, or maybe just a break from the storm.

There were quieter moments too.

They’d go to Jiwoo’s favorite café near the office — small, sunlit, always playing old indie songs she claimed made her feel seventeen again. She liked the lemon cake there, tangy and too sweet.

Jeongguk hated lemon anything.

She pushed the plate toward him, fork already loaded. “Come on, one bite. It tastes like chaos and cavities.”

Jeongguk raised a brow. “Sounds deadly.”

She laughed. “You’re so dramatic. Open.”

He did, reluctantly. The lemon hit fast—sharp, sweet, wrong. He winced.

Jiwoo grinned, smug. “You hate it.”

“Told you I hate lemon,” he muttered, reaching for his coffee like it might save him.

“And yet, you let me feed it to you,” she teased, chin in hand.

“Yeah,” Jeongguk stared down at the plate, voice dropped. “I did.”

The next time they went, he ordered a slice without thinking. Maybe it was the routine. Maybe it was easier to pretend he was someone else in places she had always loved. Or maybe he was just tired of being someone he doesn’t recognize anymore.

Two mornings later, while Jeongguk slipped on his coat by the door, you held something out to him.

“Found this in your pocket,” you said, voice light. Just a folded receipt. “Didn’t know you liked lemon cake.”

He hesitated for half a breath, then took it from your hand. “Thought I’d try something new,” he said, stuffing the paper into his pocket. “Didn’t finish it though.”

You smiled faintly. “Okay.” Nothing more was said. Jeongguk walked to his car, you walked to yours and the day went on just like any other.

Jeongguk started wearing a new cologne Jiwoo had mentioned offhand in passing.

They’d been sitting in his car, her legs pulled up, a coffee cup balanced on her knee, when she reached into the glove compartment to grab tissues and found the travel-sized bottle tucked in with a pile of old receipts.

“Oh,” she’d said, amused. “This one’s nice. Remember it from a client’s shoot a while back.” She sprayed it lightly on her wrist, then offered it to him without looking too hard. “Try it. Might suit you.”

He didn’t think much of it then. Just leaned forward so she could mist it across his neck. Her fingers had brushed the edge of his jaw—cold and brief. She’d gone quiet after that. Rolled the window down. Changed the subject.

But later, when he made a dumb joke and leaned in to repeat it, she’d smiled like it meant something. Like he meant something. Something other than mistakes and disappointments.

It wasn’t the kind of scent he normally liked—too warm, too heavy. Amber and cedarwood.  It clung to him like someone else's second skin.

But it made him forget the lavender that carried too much expectations and pain. And it was enough.  

Jeongguk started wearing it after that.

The first time he wore it home, you paused in the hallway, one hand bracing the wall like you’d lost your balance for a second.

“That’s strong,” you said, half-laughing. “What is that? Smells like someone lit a forest on fire.”

Jeongguk smiled faintly, tugged at his collar. “Trainees thought it smelt good. Was messing around with some samples in the shoot. Kind of stuck.”

You nodded slowly. “Looks like it did.”

“I’ll probably switch back next week,” he said, voice soft. “It’s not really me.”

You didn’t answer. Just passed by him, close enough to breathe it in again, leaving him in the silence of your home like always.

It was raining when they slipped into the planetarium.

Jiwoo said she’d always wanted to come but never had the time. Jeongguk didn’t ask why she chose a place like this or why she wanted him there. He just asked Taehyung to book the tickets under his name and followed her plans when the day came.

Inside, the seats reclined. The dome above them flickered dark before filling with stars.

She glanced sideways at him when the simulated constellations came alive — her shoulder barely grazing his. “Penny for your thoughts?”

It was the first time she ever asked him for anything. Jeongguk didn’t know why. Only that she did – after he’d been staring too long at the Sun in the simulation.

“I don’t know what this is anymore…what I am anymore,” he admitted quietly. “But I don’t know how to stop it. Don’t know how to come back.” His eyes were still fixed on the Sun — pixelated and sterile, orbiting nothing real.

Jiwoo didn’t speak right away. A comet traced across the dome in silence.

“You don’t have to name it,” she said finally. “No one’s asking you to.”

The stars faded, but the ache stayed — quieter now, like a shadow settling deeper into the edges of his days.

And somewhere beneath it all, the clock kept ticking, pulling him forward whether Jeongguk was ready or not.

The morning began quietly.

You moved softly through the kitchen, hands working without rush as you wrapped small sandwiches, cut fruit into soft wedges, and arranged snacks into a neatly packed basket. Nothing elaborate. Just enough for two. You checked the time on the oven clock once, then again, a little slower.

The house was still quiet upstairs.

Jeongguk stood halfway down the stairs, already dressed for work – pressed slacks, sleeves rolled to his forearms, his watch catching the low light. He stayed still, one hand resting gently on the banister.

Your voice drifted up from the kitchen, gentle but clear. The phone lay on speaker on the counter.

“I’ll be okay, Eomma. Just a quick visit.” You murmured.

“Jeongguk’s not going with you?” your mother had asked.

He waited for you to tell her the truth. Rat him out – call him selfish, careless, tell her how he let you down again.

Instead, you said, “Think he’s got an early shoot in Gangnam.” You reached for a napkin, folding it once, then again, before tucking it into the picnic basket.

Jeongguk didn’t move. His eyes lingered on the basket, then the slow curve of your shoulders as you stood over it.

Then, without saying a word, he turned and walked away. His shoes made no sound on the floor as he quietly slipped out the door.

Jeongguk didn’t go to the memorial.

Instead, he ended up parked outside the baby clothes store on the far side of the city. The same one you both had visited long ago, when you were full of dreams and plans. The sign’s color had changed, the windows were new – but inside, it still smelled faintly of baby powder and fresh cotton.

He drifted in slowly, like muscle memory.

Near the back, he spotted a small rack lined with tiny onesies. One in particular caught his eye — cream-colored with purple tulips and sun prints stitched into the fabric. Something about it felt soft and whole.

Jeongguk bought it without thinking.

For a brief moment, the idea flickered in his chest. Maybe he could still make it to the memorial. Maybe if he left now, brought this little onesie, maybe...

Then he saw them – a couple around his age. The woman laughed softly, holding a squirming baby girl in her arms. The man kissed her cheek, one arm slung around her shoulder. Their child was maybe two. Maybe close to what Ha-yun would’ve been. Alive. Growing.

“Say ‘Appa,’ sweetie,” the woman coaxed gently.

The baby’s tiny lips parted, forming a soft, uncertain sound— “Appa...”

The man’s eyes softened, his smile widening. “That’s right, little one. Appa.”

Jeongguk froze. Something cold gripped him from the inside. And in that moment, the weight of it all came crashing back.

He left without a word.

The day blurred after that. He threw himself into work, showed up at an offsite shoot, reviewed shots he wasn’t even scheduled to cover. His phone buzzed a few times — he didn’t check. Not even once.

Evening fell without mercy.

Down the office building, they waited for a cab. A crazy drunk stumbled past, spilling a drink right onto Jiwoo’s sleeve. “Shit, sorry!” the drunk slurred, swaying away.

She stared down at the wet fabric, annoyed. Jeongguk stepped closer, pulling off his jacket. “Here, take this.”

She hesitated but accepted it, slipping it on.

Jeongguk muttered under his breath, “Fucking assholes.”

“Don’t get worked up. Bet they smell like cheap whiskey and regret.”

He rolled his eyes, chuckled, said nothing after.  Just watched the city lights coming on, slow and soft.

“I thought you’d run away for good today,” Jiwoo breaks the quiet.

He scoffed. “I tried.”

She bumped his arm lightly. “You suck at it.”

A breath of a laugh escaped him, short and tight. He looked at her — really looked — and that was all it took.

Jiwoo leaned in first, her lips brushing his in a kiss that was quiet and careful.

Jeongguk didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. He kissed her back, like a reflex, like he didn’t want to think about what it meant.

Then it ended, just as quickly. No promises. No questions. Not asking for more, not promising anything either.

Jiwoo blinked. Looked for a second longer than usual, then smiled softly. “Come on,” she said, gently tugging at his sleeve. “I want to show you something.”

The cab ride was short. They pulled into a quiet alley where an older shop stood, its weather sign still intact, “Daehan Camera & Film.”

Jeongguk recognized it the moment they stepped out. The air around it hadn’t changed. The soft chime of the door still rang the same way it did years ago, when you dragged him here one snowy evening after you both had successfully passed your final requirements for graduation.

You were both delirious – running on caffeine, instant ramen and the kind of snacks that should’ve fucked with your brains. But you both made it.

You had bought him a camera that night, just a little something to mark the end of the chaos and the beginning of whatever came next. A secondhand Canon AE-1, barely functional flash, light meter permanently stuck on the wrong setting. Knowing how much he was a sucker for anything old and worn, always choosing charm over convenience, history over precision.

“You’re going places, Gguk. I just know it.”

Jeongguk didn’t even know what to say back then. Just stood there while you grinned, cheeks red from the cold, and told the old man behind the counter, “He’s going to be brilliant.”

You had believed in him long before he knew how to.

Jeongguk stood there again now, the memory coiling around his chest, slow and thick.

Jiwoo stepped inside first, glancing around, then nodded to the older man behind the counter who’d given her a look like she didn’t belong in his store.

She ignored it. Focused on Jeongguk. Didn’t say much. Let him take his time.

“How did you even know this place?” he asked, voice low.

She shrugged. “I asked Taehyung. He said something about how much you loved coming here.” That was all. No added explanation. No weight in her tone.

Jeongguk turned toward the glass display, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. The cameras hadn’t changed. Dust along the edges. Faint scratches in the wood counter from years of elbows and fingerprints.

The weight in his chest didn’t lift.

It sank.

When it all ended, Jiwoo gave him a small wave from across the street before slipping into a cab. Jeongguk watched her go, then crossed to the station, not to board a train, but to sit. The bench was cold. The air sharper now. He stared into the nothing ahead, not moving, not thinking.

But his hands itched. Restless. As if the silence pressed too hard against his skin.

He didn’t know how long he sat before standing again, feeling pulled tight like a stretched thread.

The tattoo shop was just around the corner – small, almost hidden, with a faded sign and a door cracked open like an invitation.

Inside, the needle buzzed before words could form.

The artist glanced at his arm. “Covering up the old one?”

Jeongguk nodded. “Something like that.”

He barely looked at the design in the mirror, a crescent moon cradling a handful of stars.

Simple. Quiet. No noise. No movement. No expectations.

He winced as the needle bit into his skin, the pain sharp but steady, grounding him.

A punishment. A mark for running away. For choosing silence over love, again and again. A mark for guilt that made a home in him and never left. For turning his back when your hands were still reaching for him. A mark for all the mistakes he’s ever done. For everything he couldn’t face – then and now.

When the buzzing stopped, he touched the fresh ink with trembling fingers.

The moon and stars were there to stay.

The sun—yours—was gone, and he’d covered it himself.

The artist stepped away to clean up, leaving Jeongguk alone under the harsh glow of the overhead light.

He sat there a moment longer, sleeve rolled up, skin raw. His phone felt heavier than it should’ve in his palm.

No thinking. No pacing. Just a quiet inhale—then he pressed the number he’d taken from Taehyung earlier.

The line rang once. Then again. “Namjoon-ssi, can you please meet me?”

Namjoon didn’t ask why. He didn’t have to. When Taehyung had passed along the quiet request for help, and the moment Jeongguk stepped into the office – slumped shoulders, bloodshot eyes, a hollowness where pride used to sit – Namjoon already knew.

He began explaining — carefully, briefly — how things worked. What needed to be filed. What Jeongguk should expect.

But Jeongguk barely listened.

“Just want it fair,” he muttered after a long silence. “Everything we built… she deserves her half. Or more. I don’t care. Just get it done.”

Namjoon set his pen down. “You don’t have to do this angry. You should know at least what you’re walking away from.”

“I know exactly what I’m walking away from,” Jeongguk snapped. His voice cracked, then dropped. “A house that used to be a home. A bed that used to be filled with love. And a woman who still looks at me like I haven’t fucked up everything. I don’t fucking deserve that. She doesn’t deserve this version of me.”

Namjoon didn’t flinch. “And you think divorce is going to solve that?”

Jeongguk’s hands curled into fists, then loosened. The anger gave way to exhaustion. “She deserves better. I’ve already broken her. I don’t want to stay just to keep breaking her in smaller pieces.”

Namjoon tried again, voice quieter this time. “Walking away will just her hurt her more.”

“It’s a clean slate,” Jeongguk said. “Maybe for both of us. It won’t be waking up beside her and still feeling like I��m drowning. It won’t be watching her look at me like I’m someone else. And I won’t have to keep dragging her down this shithole I’ve dug for myself.”

Namjoon nodded slightly. He didn’t push more after that. Just took down the details Jeongguk gave him. The terms. The assets. The accounts. He worked in quiet rhythm, the pen moving steadily across paper.

“She’ll need to sign it too,” he said eventually.

“I know,” Jeongguk stared at the ceiling. “Just… not yet.” Silence passed. “I need to… break it to her gently. Figure out how.”

Days passed like slow echoes. Some nights, Jeongguk stayed late in the office, finishing edits no one asked for. Other evenings, he met Jiwoo for coffee or dinner, sometimes letting her distract him with things that made him laugh for a moment too long. But the weight stayed.

Then one morning, the envelope came. Sealed and clean, the final draft tucked inside.

It was waiting on his desk when he arrived—no fanfare, no message, just his name typed on the front in sterile black ink.

Jiwoo was already in the room, seated across from his desk, reviewing campaign drafts. She looked up when she heard him stop short. “That it?”

He nodded, already pulling a pen from the drawer. No pause. No ceremony.

She watched him sign. “You’re really doing it.”

Jeongguk didn’t look up. “Already did.” He capped the pen, slipped the papers into the bottom drawer of his desk and closed it quietly.

And he didn’t look at them again.

The papers stayed buried in his desk drawer, untouched and unsigned by anyone but him. Days turned over like pages—quiet, deliberate, unread. And in the hush between what was and what they couldn’t name anymore, time moved forward anyway.

The house remained the same – clean, lived-in, routine. The silence wasn’t new anymore. It had settled in long ago, worn down by time, no longer sharp or painful – just there, like faded wallpaper touched by the sun.

Conversations, when they happened, were brief and practical.

One morning, you placed the empty detergent bottle on the counter. “We’re out of detergent,” you’d said without looking at him.

“I’ll grab some tomorrow,” Jeongguk replied, barely glancing up from his phone.

Another time, while folding towels that still smelled faintly of rain, you spoke up again. “Water bill’s due Friday.”

“Okay.” He didn’t ask how much. You didn’t offer. The moment passed without ripples.

Sometimes, you left the house first. Sometimes, he did.

That morning, Jeongguk paused by the trash bin as you headed out. “Trash day’s tomorrow. Did you sort the bags?”

You stopped, rubbing your forehead. “It’s your turn to sort the trash.”

He gave a quiet, almost automatic nod.

You didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t ask for one.

You were slipping on your coat when he noticed – no keys in your hand. Just your phone, already pulled up to book a ride.

“You’re not driving?” Jeongguk asked, glancing up from the sink.

You shrugged lightly. “Car won’t start. Battery’s dead, I think.”

He wiped his hands on a dish towel. “I’ll take it to the shop after work. You can take mine.”

You mumbled a ‘thanks’. Left before he could say anything else.

There were no fights. No pointed silences. Just a kind of practiced cohabitation that neither strained nor healed. Like two people who had memorized the layout of the same house but stopped meeting in the same rooms.

It was the kind of evening that used to mean something.

The kind where candles would’ve flickered on the table, laughter echoing off the kitchen tiles, your arms looping around his neck as if the world outside your home didn’t exist. Where the scent of dinner wasn’t just food – it was love folded into small efforts.

But those days had long gone quiet. Faded slowly. Softly. Without a fight.

Jeongguk didn’t knock. Didn’t slide his key into the lock. Just stayed by the front steps, close enough to see through window, far enough that you wouldn’t notice him there.

The dining table was set for two. Silverware neatly placed; bowls of warm food left untouched on both sides. He knew the dishes right away – meals you used to make to remind him of home. Or maybe, to hold on to the hope that it still was home.

You were still dressed in something soft but presentable, like you hadn’t quite given up the idea of company. Your hair was pinned back the way you used to wear it for dinners, neat and plain, but still cared for.

Between rearranging the plates, he watched you pick up your phone, glance at it now and then, quietly waiting – not quite hopeful, but not yet giving up either.

You poured water into both glasses. Straightened the tablecloth’s edge. Sat down for a moment, then stood up again.

It was the waiting, Jeongguk realized, that undid him. Not the food or the setting or even the way you’d tried to make everything familiar – but the way you kept looking toward the door. Like maybe this would be the year he remembered. Like maybe you hadn’t stopped leaving room for him yet.

Jeongguk didn’t move. Didn’t give himself away.

And after some time, something in your posture shifted—too subtle for anyone else to notice, but not him.

You blew out the candle. Pushed in your chair. Started packing things up with the quiet, careful way you did now—like a shield around you.

No dramatic pause. No lingering. You just...let it go.

Jeongguk stayed in that moment a little longer. Let the silence draw a line between the man he was then and the one sitting here now.

He remembers the morning after the anniversary and your birthday, leaning against the headboard, the food tray with Makguksu and Samgyeopsal. He felt he didn’t deserve the small kindness and tried to ignore it, while the feeling of regret kept growing inside him.

Then there was Taehyung, the office, and the papers he’d kept hidden. Jeongguk remembers signing them without hesitation. How instead of being honest and ending things, he kept the agreement a secret. In that moment, fear and denial held him back – he had signed away his marriage, but didn’t have the courage to deal with what came next.

Jeongguk remembers the look on your face when you found them. No words, just a quiet, heavy stare—as if you finally saw everything you’d been avoiding. That look hurt him more than any fight, revealing the vulnerable man beneath his tough mask.

And when you asked him if he loved her, he was too scared to tell you the truth. That he didn’t. That it was just means of his escape. The mess he made was only a way to hide from the man he’d become.

Then Namjoon showed up with a new agreement and a list that felt more like a punishment back then. It felt like a burden. But over time, those things stopped feeling like chains and became a strange kind of guide.

Those times and the person he had turned to, used to haunt him. Sometimes it still pressed against his chest, sharp and shame-shaped. But the pain no longer ruled him. Instead, it had become a quiet reminder of how far he’d come—how much he’d survived and was now trying to find a way back to a place that once felt like home.

Jeongguk took a slow breath, trying to hold on to that fragile hope—of something better, something steadier.

Outside the car, Jiwoo waited quietly. Not rushing. Not pressing. Just waiting.

And in that moment, Jeongguk held onto the calm as best he could.

He stepped out, followed her down the street to a small café nearby. It was new, clean, quiet. Nothing fancy. Orders were placed – black coffee for him, green tea for her and some food he barely registered while she chatted with the server.

When it came, that’s when his attention dropped to the food she had ordered, a slice of lemon cake.

“Still?” Jeongguk asked with his brow raised.

Jiwoo gave a small, almost playful smile. “Moving to a new city doesn’t change my food choices.”

He doesn’t go along with the playful remark. Just jumps right in. “Do you remember when we started drifting apart?”

Jiwoo nodded. “After you got that tattoo.”

He chuckled dryly. “Funny how I got it because you said the moon and stars didn’t have expectations.”

She gave a small smile, not proud, not sad. Just knowing. “That was supposed to comfort you. Didn’t think you’d go ink it on your skin.”

“Thought it’d fix something,” Jeongguk admits. “Make it easier to carry. You know…the guilt. Everything else.”

Jiwoo fiddled with the cake. “It didn’t.”

“It didn’t,” he agreed. Silence stretched between them, then softly he asked, “Do you remember when we completely stopped?”

She nodded, looking down. “That café in Hapjeong. You told me she found the divorce papers. And the list she’s making you do.”

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything at first. His gaze drops to the rim of his coffee cup, and for a moment, the café around them fades.

To another café. To another day. Hapjeong.

“I don’t know if I’m a good person,” Jiwoo said quietly, her voice barely rising above the hum of the street outside. “Sometimes I think maybe I deserve to lose everything.”

Jeongguk looked at her then—really looked. “You didn’t make me love her less,” he said. “That’s on me. And you’re not losing anything. I’m here. I’m still here.”

Jiwoo swallowed, gaze darting to the window. “For how long?”

His gaze stayed stead, but something behind it softened. “As long as necessary,” he said. “To make sure you’re okay. To help you figure out whatever you need to do next.”

A brief silence followed, broken only by the gentle clink of a spoon from another table.

She didn’t look at him, but he caught the way her fingers curled around the hem of her sleeve.

Then, more quietly, he added, “After that, I’m going on with that list.”

The silence that followed wasn’t surprised — it was quiet. Knowing.

Jiwoo’s voice was thin when it came. “You never loved her any less, did you?”

Jeongguk’s gaze held hers, steady but distant, as if weighing a truth he’d long avoided. “Guess I didn’t.” he said quietly. “Think I just lost my way. Lost who I’d become. Changed into someone I barely recognized.”

He swallowed, voice thick. “I didn’t know how to come back.”

Jiwoo’s voice was barely above a whisper. “What made you want to find your way back?”

Jeongguk’s eyes dropped to the table. “The way she still looked at me,” he said. “Like I wasn’t lost at all. It’s been that way all these years. Was just too blinded by all the pain, all the failures, all the disappointments. Let them take hold.”

He drew in a breath, slow and quiet. “I’m done with that. No more running. No more escaping. I’m going on with this list the right way. I’m going to mean it. No more lies. No more hurting her. No more going behind her back.”

Jiwoo’s eyes stay fixed on. “You think that’s going to make her forgive you?”

Jeongguk’s thumb traced the rim of his cup. “Not doing this for forgiveness. Accepted a long time ago that nothing I do will reverse everything I’ve done.”

She sighed softly. “You said the list is a set of conditions she made before finalizing the divorce. You do know that completing it means ending everything between you, right?”

“I know.” He swallowed down the nerves. “But until then, I’m going to try to love her the right way. I’ll just love her – no ‘what ifs,’ no ‘buts.’ And if she lets me go – then that’s just the consequence of every fucked-up choice I made.”

“You’re fucked up, Jeon.” Jiwoo let out a dry, bitter laugh. “Should’ve never started that divorce agreement. Should’ve owned up to your mistakes years ago.”

“Too late for that now.” Jeongguk gave a faint chuckle, low and a little worn. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I know one apology won’t fix anything, but… I’ll be around. If you need help with anything moving forward, I’m here.”

“Thanks,” Jiwoo said softly. Then, after a pause, “Guess I should start looking for another company.”

“You want to leave?”

“Doesn’t feel right staying,” she said, meeting his eyes briefly. “Not if you’re going to try again with her.”

The days slipped by as Jeongguk helped Jiwoo navigate her transition. He made calls, pulled strings, even visited a couple of agencies on her behalf.

One evening, after finalizing some transfer logistics, they sat in silence at a convenience store bench.

“You look tired,” Jiwoo muttered without looking at him.

Jeongguk cracked a weak smile. “Have felt worst.”

“You don’t have to do all this.”

“Just let me help.”

She didn’t argue. Just nudged his knee with hers once—quiet thanks unspoken.

Jeongguk followed through with the Chuncheon firm. Quiet team, flexible direction—room for Jiwoo to breathe. He drove her up for the meeting, vouched for her, stepped out when needed. They made her an offer the same day.

On the ride back, Jiwoo turned to him, “You did more than I expected.”

“Good luck out there.” Jeongguk kept his eyes ahead as the city lights faded behind them.

Steam hissed softly nearby, mingling with murmurs and the occasional metallic clink. The rich aroma of fresh coffee wrapped around him, pulling Jeongguk back to the moment.

Jiwoo’s calm gaze met his across the café’s warm light. “You didn’t ask me to meet you to reminisce our era.”

“Don’t make it sound like some concert tour we’ve headlined.”

“Not me. Just you. Would’ve been a great idol.”

Jeongguk smirked. “What would my stage name be? ‘DJ Regret’?��

Jiwoo chuckled, shaking her head. “More like ‘The King of Sorrys.’ Your fan club would be huge.”

His smile faded, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Why’d you do it?”

“Not gonna ask when I did it?” Jiwoo shot back, a teasing edge in her voice.

“If you were gonna go through my phone, at least mess with the archive too,” he said calmly.

What happened next wasn’t a question of if, but when.

In the days that followed, Jeongguk had settled into a new rhythm—balancing work, the list, and the slow rebuilding of what was once lost. Meanwhile, Jiwoo adjusted to life in Chuncheon, facing fresh challenges with a quieter pace.

It was during a late afternoon in the office, sifting through the cabinet, making space for a new team’s mock-up, that Jeongguk stumbled across it – clean layout, pinned swatches, slipped sketches, a familiar signature on the corner. It was Jiwoo’s.

He tore out a notepad page, scribbled her name and phone number, taped it on the corner. Then sent out a text before returning to the rest of his day filled with back-to-back meetings.

Jeon: Found your old board. Front desk if you need it. Swamped.

Later that evening, Jiwoo stepped into the lobby. The receptionist, mid-call and juggling a delivery form, waved her through. “It’s in the corner, go ahead. Got to deal with a mix-up.”

She spotted the board exactly where she was told. Her name and number marked clearly on a note stuck at the top. As she peeled it off, another paper came loose beneath it – same notepad, different message.

Messy handwriting. A scribbled list. Restaurant names stacked one after the other, some crossed out, others with times rewritten, erased, replaced again. One had a smudged heart half-erased. Another with a small sun doodle at the end. A few notes scattered like Go early. Less crowded. Cheesecake out of stock. Pass.

Jiwoo paused, reading it twice. Didn’t take much to guess what it was. Or who was it for.

He still hadn’t said it.

Nearby, Jeongguk’s phone buzzed once on the front desk – forgotten, maybe dropped in the middle of another rushed hour.

She picked it up, tapped the camera roll, scrolled briefly. Found the clip—one from a late-night drive some time ago. Her voice in the background, laughing. Posted it to his story.

Then walked out with the board in hand. And just like that, it was done.

Jeongguk exhaled slowly, the weight of the past settling quietly as he looked at Jiwoo.

“Did you know she almost finalized the divorce that night?”

Jiwoo didn’t flinch. “Good. It shook her.”

“Was that what you meant to do? Some kind of revenge? Karma I deserved?”

“No, Jeon,” she said, calm but unyielding. “It was meant to shake both of you. I knew she’d see it. Knew you’d find it. You made this big declaration about wanting to love her again – and you still haven’t said it.”

“I was trying to make myself worthy enough before telling her.”

“And when will that be?” Her voice was steady, but there was an edge to it. “You’ve spent the last three years trying. Said it yourself – you got lost chasing the version of you she once loved. The one she still loves. And you’re still going in circles. When will you realize that no matter who you try to be, she’s going to love you anyway?”

Jeongguk’s face stayed still, but the silence between them grew heavy with unspoken words. “You weren’t part of this anymore. You had no right to get involved.”

“If I didn’t, would you have pushed yourself to try harder for her? To be there for her?”

Jeongguk leaned back slightly, jaw tense. “That wasn’t your choice to make.”

“But it was a choice that started to make things better for you, didn’t it?”

He remained quiet, the weight of her words pressed down on him.

Jiwoo started to gather her things. “Just be fucking honest for once. Love her like you used to. Or maybe even better,” she pauses briefly, then adds. “Stop wasting time. You won’t realize when time will run out and you’re left with regrets instead of love that should’ve been yours to hold.”

She left before he could say a word, the silence between them closing like the last page of a book.

Jeongguk swallowed hard, the truth in Jiwoo’s words hitting him like a sudden, cold wave. His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. The screen glowed with a photo of you, lips pressed softly to his cheek, eyes closed in a moment of pure tenderness.

He stared at it, breath steadying. A soft light began to grow inside him, like the first rays of a sunrise finally breaking through after a long wait.

[beomev]

𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲𝗱 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗲, yoon jeonghan

정한────𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀

𝗷𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗮𝗻 x fem!reader ⠀⠀⠀⠀─── ⠀⠀⠀⠀𝘄𝗰 1.6k ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 fluff, friends2lovers ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗱𝗲𝘀 reader is sick, mutual pining, swearing, mentions of medicine, reader is referred to as "girl", jeonghan just being the menace he is ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 friends by chase atlantic ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 hii guys! this is my take on a classic sick fic so i hope you guys like it <3 i do think the ending is a bit rushed, possibly because i CANNOT write a confession scene TT. this officially marks my seventeen writing debut, so if you'd like to see more, feel free to comment or send an ask to get added to my taglist :D ⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂋 ⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ 𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗶𝘃𝗲

The sunlight peeked out of your burgundy-coloured curtains, laced with white on its ends – perfectly shining right upon your face. 

You groaned, shuffling in bed. Your migraine really wasn't doing you any justice. You got up and placed your hand flat on your forehead.

“Is that too hot? Am I running a fever?” you questioned yourself as you pushed away your comforter to get up. You groggily walk towards the kitchen, positioning yourself in front of the wooden cabinet where your medical supplies are stored. You tiptoed, grabbing the cabinet's handle in an attempt to open it. Whose idea was it to fix a cabinet really high, you thought, as you grabbed hold of the electronic thermometer.

40 degrees Celsius, it lit up.

“You're actually joking..” you sighed loudly, placing a hand on your head. You had an important seminar today, which you were looking forward to. It was being led by a professor you were really fond of, whom you sent a request to cover a topic you weren’t keen on, so you thought it’d help to attend. 

Guess that’s ruined.

You plop the thermometer inside one of your hazel-coloured coffee mugs as you walk back to your room, clearly upset.

“Oh well,” you sighed as you got in bed, “Guess it’s for the best,” you shrugged as you felt your eyelids grow heavier by the second, still covered with your shimmery eyeshadow from last night’s after party.

“You’re burning up,” you hear a muffled sound from beside you. You try opening your eyes, failing. You were fine about an hour ago, but you wondered what made you so suddenly exhausted.

“Jeonghan?” you called out, attempting once again to open your eyes, and once you do, you see someone like.

Same hair, same height, same handsome face.

“Oh, it is you, what are you doing here? What’s the time?” you ask as you try to get up.

“Stop moving around, you’ll make it worse,” he mentions, positioning your pillow upright for you to lean on.

It was these sorts of actions that made your stomach twist.

You grabbed a hair tie from the stand next to your bed, tying your black hair into a bun, trying to look a bit less messy.

You didn’t want him to see you like this.

You didn’t want him to see how you looked messy – messed up makeup, messed up hair, messed up clothes..

Just, all messed up.

“I’ll be right back,” he exclaims as he places his things on the corner end of your bed, walking towards the kitchen. “Top cabinet right?” he adds.

Perhaps he got the message?

You make sure he’s out of sight before opening up your phone’s camera to look at yourself reflected on the screen. “Shit,” you curse under your breath.

You did look like shit.

“Why did he have to show up now..?” you sigh, covering your face with your hands, looking down. 

The universe was out to get you, you thought.

You glance towards the sheets of paper he placed on your bed before walking towards the other end of your apartment. You stretch towards them, peeking at the familiar notes, reading through them.

“Wait, what? Did he go to my seminar?” you ask, eyes wide. Why would he when he had a good amount of sessions to attend himself?

Jeonghan opens your door, walks in with a tray of medicine, and places it on your table. He grabs a bubblegum-pink coloured bottle, looking at you, grinning. 

“I am not drinking that,” you shrug. “That tastes like absolute ass,” you add, chuckling.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not,” you answer more sternly this time.

He walks over, looking at the sheet of papers in your hand. “Looks like you found them,” he says as he takes a seat. “I had free time, so I popped in to take some notes for you. I was planning on giving them to you, but since you’re being stubborn,” he extends the last bit, shrugging, taking the file of papers gently from your ice-cold hands.

“Hey, that’s not fair..” you sulk in response.

“I think it is pretty fair. Some medicine for notes that were beautifully hand-crafted by one of your best friends? Seems like a pretty good offer to me,” he shrugs, taking a seat on the corner of your bed. 

You cross your legs, “Were there no tablets remaining?” you ask, in hopes that you wouldn’t have to take the syrup version.

“All a painkiller’s going to do is treat your symptoms, and that’s not what we want,” he chimes, opening his phone.

“But I’d rather die than have that..” you groan, plopping on your bed. Right now, Jeonghan felt more like a dad than a friend.

“I think you should just get it over with.”

“And I think you should make your way towards the door,” you say, rolling your eyes.

And all you see after that was a pout. A pout, coming from Jeonghan? 

“Are you.. pouting?” you ask, feeling your face burn up. It's not your fault you couldn’t handle it, he looked too cute, pouting, wearing his beige little hoodie. You could almost coo.

“You look ugly,” you chuckle, as he scoffs.

“Okay then, Yn! I’ll just make my way towards the door, and I’ll take my notes with me as well. Try not to die!” he jumps, fixing his attire and making his way towards your door, waiting for his cue.

“Wait..” you sigh. “Give me the bottle,” you add, feeling yourself fill with unwavering confidence.

Jeonghan spins around, he knew you too well.

“That’s my girl,” he says, handing you the bottle. You scoff at his remark, feeling a blush creep up your face. You pour the thick pink liquid into a small measuring cup, chugging it as it reaches the appropriate value. 

You scowl as your taste buds sense the disgusting aftertaste.

“Oh gosh,” you gag, receiving a hearty chuckle from Jeonghan. You look up at him to see him recording you. 

“Hey!” you yell as you attempt to pry his phone out of his hands.

You swore you couldn’t remember what happened, but now you were on top of your guest, your hands pinning his, on your bed. The phone, the medicine, hell, even your fever was long forgotten. You feel the clock in your room slow down, maybe Jeonghan feels it too?

Your hands were placed on top of his, but not for long, as he interlocked his with yours.

“Why are you holding my hand?”

“Why are you pinning me down?”

You jolt, suddenly standing up at his words, coughing up a sorry, clearly embarrassed.

He senses that you’re tensed and gets up, grabbing his bag.

“Rightfully earned,” he grins as he places the handwritten notes in your hands. 

You notice the way his hands linger a bit longer than it usually does.

He turns, making his way to your room’s door. You sigh dramatically, like the ones you’d hear in a cartoon. One’s where the main character is a step closer to fulfilling their goal. 

And your goal remained Jeonghan – that too, for the longest time you could remember. Sharing beds together since you were kids, but you and Jeonghan never really grew out of that habit, although now it hurts to be that close to him, knowing that there was nothing more. 3 AM calls, leading to Jeonghan always ending up at your apartment – maybe you’d drink, maybe you’d watch a movie, or maybe you’d just sleep. You’d also realised recently how much you and Jeonghan would act like a married couple, repeatedly getting flustered when people asked how long we were in – because we weren’t, it would just remind you of your little unrequited torment. The way you two would go as each other’s dates because it was more ‘convenient’. Staring a little longer at each other. The awkward phase when you reach the age you promised you’d marry each other if you were still single. Getting 'fake married' as kids, and the way your family and his family still remember it, teasing you and Jeonghan every now and then.

But there were moments you wondered if he really hadn’t felt anything towards you. For not even a second? Maybe even a small, “She’s cute,”? It hurt you, beyond imagination – almost as if there was a hole in your heart, a hole that could only be mended by the menace, Jeonghan.

“I don’t want to risk our friendship, but I can’t keep it hidden for much longer, or I’ll actually explode,” you comment trying to force out a laugh while brushing your hand through your disheveled hair, bangs all out.

You take a step forward, looking into his eyes for any sense of mutual agreement. 

“What if..” you start, “What if we were more than friends.. ?” you mumble, looking down now. Voice nothing but a whisper.

“Hm?” he teases, lowering himself by tilting his head to bring himself on eye level with you.

“I don’t think it’s much of a difference anyway. Everyone already thinks we’re a couple anyway,” you ramble on, turning your head, refusing to face his stupidly cute grin.

“Hm, I dunno,” he says, standing upright now, shrugging.

“What.. ?” you reply, multiple thoughts rushing into your head as you widen your eyes. Were you about to get rejected? Asshole, you thought.

“You know me better than I know myself. How did you not notice my feelings? Are you really that oblivious, or are you just playing?” he jokes, clearly taking advantage of the situation.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve loved you all my life.”

ㅤ⠀ㅤ ིྀㅤtaglist: @daydreamnet @blossomnet @k-films

ㅤ⠀ㅤㅤ⠀ㅤㅤ⠀ㅤ﹔℘๋࣭ ⭑ send an ask or just comment to get added

[issybee06]

Go big or go home

(LOSER!Mark Grayson X CHEERLEADER!reader)

Oneshort but if someone wants a part 2 i guess I could whip something up

Newest obsession is not healthy

Mark seeks out help from his old childhood friend, asking her to play happy couple to get the attention of another girl…

They don’t even know they want each other, these idiots.

This is so cringy but I like it so…

Hope you enjoy this🫶

Pt2

…………………………………………………………………………….

“No.”

Marks jaw dropped, giving you that stupid kicked puppy look as you fix your makeup in the little locker mirror. You didn’t even actually have to look at him, just knew he looked defeated by the way he sucked in a short breath like being burned.

You look up at him, pulling the lipgloss down. He looked up from the pretty sparkly tube and back to your face, big brown eyes so sad and pathetic.

Sighing, you close your eyes feeling a little bad, “Mark, I’m not helping you make a girl jealous if you’ve never even had a real conversation with her. She is not gonna care.”

Mark and you had a complicated relationship, growing up next door to eachother kinda forced us to become friends. You guys had stuck like glue until middle school, going into different friend groups and inevitably completely different social classes in high school. You took on cheerleading, he took on…whatever he did in his free time.

“Please (Y/n), you don’t understand! I need your help! You’re like my only girl friend-wait, no-not like that! I meant like my friend that is a girl! I-I’ll own you! Anything you need!” Mark beg quietly, stepping closer and quickly looking around to make sure no one heard his pathetic pleas. Rolling your eyes, you grab the math textbook and close the locker door.

“Mark, hate to break it to you, but you have absolutely nothing I need.” You weren’t mean about it, just truthful as you rejected his begging.

His jaw dropped slightly and you could have sworn his lip quivered. Fuck, why did he have to look so…

You sigh, moving your hair off your shoulder, “ugh, fine. But you better not make this weird or anything like that...”

His face lights up as the words leave your mouth, tension visibly leaving him. He gives a firm nod, a glimmer of hope in his eyes as he agrees.

"I won't, I swear. I just..." He pauses, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I just need to know how long I can have you for. How much time you're willing to give. A week? Two?"

Your eyes widen and you wince, “Have me…? Mark how long do you need?” You question, scoffing lightly. This was so annoying…

He fidgets a bit with the bottom of his sweater, looking almost guilty for his choice of words. He knows he's been acting desperate. Hell, he is desperate.

"Uh... A couple weeks. Maybe a month." He rubs his neck, avoiding eye contact by looking over the other lockers in the hallway. "I know it's a lot to ask, and I really am sorry. I just... need her to be jealous. If I can make her jealous enough, she might notice me…?”

“Are you kidding me?!” I might hit him , “that’s not how girls work! You and William need to stop watching chick flicks.”

You roll your eyes again, walking away. He yelps, scampering to catch up with me, “wait! Wait-wait-wait-wait! Look, I’m sorry! You’re right! I don’t know anything about girls so that’s why I need you because you are a girl and you know things!”

You stop, jaw tight and lips pursed as you take him in. God, he looked so in need…

“Mark….” You groaned, and he smiled with little victory, “So you’ll help! You’ll help me, oh my god you’re totally helping!”

“Pause,” holding your hand up, he shuts his mouth immediately, “ first off, You fucking owe me.” You hiss, jabbing your finger into his chest.

“Okay, ground rules. PDA, only hand holding. Kissing, cheek unless I say to kiss my lips. Dates, we have to post them on instagram or she won’t get jealous as fast.”

He flinches back at the sudden finger on his chest, but quickly nods. The deal is worth it if it means he can get this mystery girl to like him back. Still, that doesn't stop the redness creeping onto his cheeks when he thinks of kissing you. He knows it's all an act, but the thought is still there.

"Okay, ground rules." He agrees. "PDA only as far as hand holding, kissing on the cheek unless you say otherwise, and we'll be putting everything on social media. Got it."

You nod, “Also, if she doesn’t have interest in you by prom, you're taking me to prom. Make me a sign.”

He blinks, a bit stunned at the sudden addition to the terms, "Uh...yeah, Yeah, alright. I'll take you to prom." He hesitantly agrees. "But, a sign? Like, a poster?"

“Yes! Ugh, you really are hopeless!”

He lets out a mock-offended gasp. "I'm not hopeless!" Mostly.

"Alright, alright. I'll make a sign. Just don't have super high expectations. I'm not exactly great with making big banners."

Or dealing with girls, really.

“What did I get myself into...”

He gives a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his already mused black hair.

"Hey, don't say I didn't warn you this plan was a shot in the dark." He tries to give a comforting smile, but it ends up more of a grimace. "Plus, free prom. That's got to count for something, right?"

Humming, you look over to see mystery girl walking down the hall towards us. You’re eyes widen and your mouth moves faster than your brain.

“Mark, stick your tongue down my throat.”

Mark's eyes widened, his body going rigid and face growing red. Stick his- What? He looks up at you like you've gone insane, unable to process what you just demanded of him. Was he really about to do this? With you? He opens his mouth as to speak, but the sound caught in his throat as he caught a glimpse of the girl heading their way.

"Now...?"

Was he stupid?!

“Now!” You stress, grabbing his face forcibly and kiss him.

He barely has time to register what's happening before he's suddenly being kissed. It's not what he'd expected. No, it's far more demanding - far more aggressive, almost passionate. Your soft yet forceful grip on his face, your lips against his - it makes him forget where they are, that they were in the hallway in school. He closes his eyes, surrendering to the kiss as his heart thudded loudly in his chest.

His hesitation slowly melts away as the kiss deepens, his hands eventually coming up to hold onto your hips. It's more intense than anything he's experienced before, and he finds himself lost in the moment. He doesn't even notice the other girl nearby, focused solely on the feeling of your lips against his.

You pull him closer, running your manicured fingers through his hair before tugging slightly. Mark's breath hitches when you tug at his hair, sending a shiver down his spine. He lets out a soft moan, almost a whine, his lips parting slightly as his grip on your hips tightens. He feels his resolve melting away, replaced by a growing desire to give in to the moment.

You pull away, a string of saliva connects your lips. It breaks, sticking to Marks chin. You inhale, catching your breath in light breaths. Mark's cheeks are flushed red, his breathing ragged as he looks at you. He can hardly form words, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. That was... unexpected. His hand slowly comes up to touch his chin, wiping off the saliva from his chin. He can still feel the tingle of the kiss on his lips, and the pull on his hair has left him a bit weak in the knees.

"W-woah..." He manages to stammer out.

“Was that…good enough for your little plan, Grayson?” You inhale, a small smirk growing on your lips as you take in his state.

I snort, raising my hand to wipe the last little shimmers of saliva on his skin. Mark's wide-eyed gaze follows your hand as you wipe at his chin.

"Y-yeah. I think that'll do." He manages a small smirk back at you, still feeling his heart pounding in his chest. He clears his throat, trying to play off the intense kiss as nothing. But he knows damn well that he felt every second of it, and he can tell you did too.

Your heart stutters slightly, and oh…oh no. Not with Mark, Mark Grayson? No, ew, why.

Coughing in your hand, your cheeks heat, “G-great…uh, I’ll see you around?”

He swallows, nodding dumbly as he tries to collect himself, “Y-Yeah! Yeah! I-I’ll see you…”

You walk away, hurriedly, the only thing on your mind was the fact that no, you did not have to make out with Mark Grayson to get some girls attention who probably had no idea what his name was.

But oh was it fun.

[ambrozjas]

the gang x reader who loves makeup ꨄ︎

the outsiders x reader (separate)

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

guys i swear i’m working on your requests i just wanted to use this as a filler to feed you guys while you wait, but trust me, i’m workin on it 💕 thank you for all the likes and reqs !! love you all xoxo

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

some curse words, makeup, reader is compared to “a girl in a magazine” in johnnys part, kissing?? i dunno 😭

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

DARRY’s thumb rubs along your thigh. he lay on his bed while you were sat at the desk besides him. you placed your vanity mirror on the wooden surface and had been working on your makeup for about half an hour.

darry had seen his mother put on makeup whenever she’d go out with his father, so he had a better idea of makeup than someone like steve or two bit. he liked whenever you asked him questions like ‘this or that’.

“which one? peach or mint?” you asked as you held up two lip glosses, the peach gloss in a soft pink tube and the mint in a sage green one.

darry seemed to think for a moment, humming in thought. “th’peach one.” he finally said, nodding his head in the direction of where you were holding the peach tube.

“thanks, dare.” you mumbled, your lips forming an ‘o’ shape, ready for application.

“why do you always put on makeup?” he asks, eyes fixated on you. a satisfying pop of your lips before you look over to him and shrug.

“dunno, makes me feel pretty.”

“you’re always pretty, darlin’.” darry continues, moving his hand from your thigh to your hand, interlocking both your fingers and squeezing.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“how d’ya get that thing so close to your eye?” SODAPOP asks. you’ve been doing your makeup for about ten minutes, soda watching you like a hawk.

“i just raise my eyelid and put the curler to my lashes, piece’a cake.” you shrug, mouth open as you apply some mascara. “really?” he asked, taking a glance at your drawer full of makeup products, an assortment of pretty colored tubes, he would guess were either for your lips or eyes.

“yeah, why? you want some?” you laughed, expecting a ‘no’ in return but got only silence. you looked back at him. soda had just shrugged exaggeratedly.

one thing let to another and you ended up perched on sodapop’s lap, his eyes closed as you decorated his lids with blue eyeshadow.

“soda—! don’t crinkle your eyes!” you exclaimed, your boyfriend simply chuckled and gently grasped your wrist. “‘s not my fault it tickles, babe.”

soda opens his eyes to look at you, pulling your palm to his lips for a soft kiss.

“you know, you just ruined the eyeshadow, right? your eyes are hooded so the shadow will get—“

“shh, i’m tryna be romantic ‘ere.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“oh, PONYBOY!” you squealed, dragging out the ‘y’ in his name and running down the hallway already carrying your makeup bag.

you poke your head in through the doorway to find pony laying on his bed, nose buried in another one of his books. he glanced at you, already suspicious of the fact that the rest of your body isn’t visible.

“huh?” he questioned, his eyes flickering between the words of the book. “you wanna be the best boyfriend ever and do me a favor, pony?” you grinned as you dragged out the syllables in his name.

“what’re you doin’?” he inquired. you started to step slowly into view, your bag held behind your back. “i just need’a see somethin’ real quick.” he sat up a bit as you got closer to him and placed the book on the desk next to his bed, careful to mark the page he was on with a bookmark.

you finally bring your hands around to your front, unveiling the small makeup bag filled to the brim with products.

“oh, no.”

“oh, yes.”

“no! you ain’t touchin’ my face!”

and before he knows it, ponyboy has a face full of makeup on and you’re finishing it off with some sparkly highlighter on his nose.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you had a date with JOHNNY at the drive-in, planning to see one of elvis’ new movies.

you had done your makeup, using the multitude of products you had in your room, and you looked snatched. your hair was cute, whether greased up or not, it never failed to look effortlessly gorgeous, johnny always thought so.

he was already waiting at the drive-in, accompanied by dallas who unfortunately was “chaperoning” him for the night, probably just trying to keep a lookout for drunk broads.

when you had arrived though, boy, was johnny astonished. his eyes widened at just the sight of you, it was like you were a princess walking up to him in slow motion.

once you had caught up to him and dally, johnny couldn’t help but mutter, “y’look like one of those ladies from the magazines..”, he gawked at just the utter sight of you.

“thank you?” you giggled and gave a quick peck to his lips. “i’ll get us a coke!” you jogged over to the concessions area with a bunched up wad of money in your hand. johnny watched you walk away, mouth still parted a bit in shock.

dallas, being the shithead he is, rudely tapped johnny’s cheek, making him close his mouth. “you’ll catch flies, johnny.” he said, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette.

once you two had actually sat down, dally chatting up some girl a few feet away, johnny turns to you. “s’that a new lipgloss?”

“yeah, you like it?” you asked, blowing him an exaggerated air kiss after.

“tastes sweet.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“c’mon, doll, it’s been like twenty minutes.”

“hold on, DALLY, i have to finish this wing!” you affirmed, your words altered with the way you opened your mouth so your skin would stretch, giving you the perfect opportunity with eyeliner and mascara. one struggle almost everybody goes through, is getting the other eyeliner wing to match the other.

“you’ve been at this for a while, just draw a line ‘n call it a night.” dallas insisted, he didn’t much like waiting, and he never understood why people took so much time just to do their makeup.

“no, you don’t understand. it has to be perfect.” you said, enunciating the ‘p’. you look at dallas in the reflection of the mirror and see him sigh in defeat and hollow his cheeks with another inhale of a cancer stick.

“you better not be smokin’ that thing in here, stinkin’ up my whole room.” you wrinkled your nose, the smell of cigarettes never leaves your room as long as dallas comes over.

“you do it too.”

“i smoke outside, not where it’ll penetrate a whole room full of cute things.” you rebutted.

“whatever you say, doll.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“do i look like a pretty princess?” TWO-BIT asked as you applied blush on his cheeks. you and his kid sister giggled at the sight. two’s eyes covered with all sorts of bright pinks and yellows and blues, colors that his little sister suggested.

“yes keith, you look like a pretty princess.” you said, watching two’s nose scrunch at the brush tickling his cheeks.

“what next?” you asked to his sister, turning to her as she held a finger to her chin in thought. then, it was like a light bulb went off inside her head. she grinned at you, a catlike smile that you returned, one that made two-bit worried about what would come next.

“lipstick.” was all she said, and immediately she handed you a bright red lipstick. you let out a soft laugh as you looked at two-bit’s expression, cocking an eyebrow as usual.

“you ain’t doin’ what i think you’re doin’, right?” he asks, then you wiggle the tube of lipstick at him, getting it closer as he shifts away. he placed his hands up in defense, “baby—! c’mon, you wouldn’t do that to your wonderful lovely boyfriend, would you?”

as he tries to scurry off, you hook your leg around his waist and keep him in place while his little sister laughs hysterically in the background. you grip his cheeks so his lips could purse, giving you the perfect access to apply his lipstick.

he ends up looking like a scrapped lisa frank design and that lipstick ends up in kiss marks littering your face, accompanied by ‘eww’s’ in the back provided by two’s sister.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“shit! it burns!” STEVE yells, his lips a cherry red with irritation.

“why’d you put it on your lips?” you threw your arms up, representing a ‘what the hell?’.

“thought it was your lipstick thingies!”

“why would you put it on your lips in the first place, steve?” you laughed and rushed over to get a paper towel and a few ice cube. “i thought it’d taste good.” he muttered, his lips a comical plump as he glared at the tube, feeling silly how he didn’t read the white letters on it saying ‘duck plump’.

when you came back, you sat down next to steve, gently wiping off the gloss before he snatched the napkin and wiped it off aggressively himself, desperate to get it off.

you both looked at each other before he looked down at the ice cube. “wha’s ‘at supposed to do?” he asked. you stammered, “i don’t know you were in hysterics! ‘pleasee! oh please get it off! it burns—!’” you cut yourself off with a laugh, laying back on the bed.

“yeah, yeah. whatever..” he grumbles, throwing another glare at the lip plumping gloss that lay abandoned on your desk.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ thank you all so much for all the love n requests, i swear i’m writing them just give me some time 🫶

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[strwbrychffoncke]

"i just wanna ride ,get high in the moonlight,, 3k words ⸺ event masterlist synopsis: sylus takes you on a joyride; you thank him in your own way contains: lads sylus x mc!reader (no prns are used but boobs are mentioned) ,fluff -> smut ,biker!sylus (I WANNA RIDE IT) ,motorcycle ride description ,possibly incorrect motorbike talk (i dont have one sorry if what i briefly mention is wrong LMAO) ,mention of brief motion sickness (self-indulgent) ,soft!sylus ,both are v in love tbh ,needy!reader ,makeout ,top!reader ,riding ,unprotected ,lots of kissing ,marking ,he sucks ur tits ,orgasm ,cockwarming ,soft afterglow ,that should be it note: (unedited! pls standby) heyyy guess who locked in :x so for premise the idea was that u both freaked it *on* the bike but its not explicitly stated just wanted to note LOL. this was meant to stay fluffy then it went nsfw hehe.... v loving though :x highly recommend listening to moonlight by kali uchis while reading bc the song kind of relays the vibes (if u listen u'll see the parallels lol!) anyway back 2 writing ab puppy caleb zzzz

-

"are you up for a joyride later?"

while the question was all-too common in the time you've grown closer to sylus, you couldn't help the smile that graced your lips in response each time, anticipation running through your veins.

tonight was no different.

after wrapping up a particularly taxing mission, when sylus popped that question with that familiar smirk, lilt in his tone as he leaned against the doorframe of your room in the base, you all but jumped at the opportunity.

he told you to take your time getting ready, and that you did, taking a well-refreshing shower, washing away the stress of the day before lathering up in sweet-smelling lotion, spritzing some perfume and finding a fitting outfit; something pretty yet comfortable on a motorcycle ride.

you'd then plopped down in front of your little vanity to do your makeup, working quickly yet efficiently, the familiar style routine to you yet slightly in a rush in order to spend more time with sylus.

a knock sounded on your open door as you opened your tube of lip gloss. your eyes met the rubies reflected in the mirror, watching you finish dolling yourself up for him.

"almost ready, sweetie?"

his tone was light, maybe meant to be mixed with a touch of teasing but coming out a little breathless.

you always managed to do that to him.

you didn't answer right away, dragging the doe-foot applicator across your lips— top, then bottom, then up again— the glossy sheen adorning the pretty shape before you returned the lid to the tube, twisting it closed and leaning back.

you take one last look at yourself before turning towards the man at your door, leaning on it with ease (hiding the necessary support, watching you get ready and pretty always made him a little weak in the knees, just the same as when you washed it all away), standing up from your seat and walking towards him.

"how do i look?"

he tilts his head, humming in thought.

"hard to say," he trails off, as if thinking of a way to finish the thought.

for a moment, you feel your heart drop a little. its not like you needed anyone to tell you how you looked, but sylus always...

"i better get a closer look."

you don't have time to process his words as he used his evol to pull you closer, within his grasp.

"sylus!"

your pleased giggles escape in response.

he holds you close to his chest, leaning down to whisper into your ear.

"you look beautiful," he breathes.

your breath hitches ever so slightly.

its not like he hasn't complimented you before, but...

"don't scare me like that," you pout, pulling back to look into his eyes.

"i really thought you didn't like it for a second."

"when have i ever not liked anything on you?"

a moment passes.

"or off, for that matter."

"sylus!"

his rich chuckle emanates from him.

it manages to draw a small smile from your lips.

"c'mon, lets go already!" you say, snapping back to what you were getting ready for in the first place, leading him out of the room.

"so eager," he notes, but makes no move to stop you from dragging him out of the base and towards his bike.

he would follow you anywhere you wished, so long as you remained by his side.

-

the stars are glittering all along the sky, air crisp and cool, not cold, as you stand in front of sylus, waiting for him to grab your helmet for you.

he steps closer, planting the helmet onto your head, making sure the fit is snug before clicking the clip into place under your chin. he pats the top gently.

"all ready, kitten."

"you should've worn this one. it suits you," you note, touching the cat ears on the top while watching sylus fix on his own helmet.

he laughs, hearty and amused.

"i beg to differ."

you follow him onto the bike, watching as he swings a leg over and situates himself before you follow suit, wrapping your arms around his waist and settling behind him.

"hold on tight, kitten."

"don't go too fast, mr. sylus~" you tease. the usual.

"if you say so."

the engine starts, and you're both off.

you don't actually mind the speed. after so many rides with sylus, you're actually used to it. its welcome, in a strange sort of way.

someone might call you reckless for liking, even desiring for such a ride, but you couldn't help it. the adrenaline rush was addicting.

even on your own bike, you'd ride around sometimes to clear your head. of course, you couldn't go anywhere near as fast as sylus could here, so maybe thats why.

or maybe its the driver that you crave. but whos to say.

while keeping a tight hold onto sylus, you cant help but to lean your head back to gaze up at the stars.

you haven't been driving for long, but everything zips past you quickly. the stars race against you both, lighting your path and keeping an eye on the speeding lovers in the remnants of a place that once was. the moon is at full brightness, shining down on the both of you.

the air, while cold now, feels amazing against your skin. your hair blows behind you, and you can't help but to revel in the chill on your neck, body buzzing with adrenaline, already forgetting the woes of the day.

you close your eyes, melting in the feelings.

the cold air in contrast to sylus' warm body that you're pressed up against.

the speed at which you're going despite the moments feeling like forever.

and for a lingering second, you think that you wouldn't mind, not one bit, if you could stay like this, speeding across roads, the night sky stretching endlessly above you, for an eternity—

so long as sylus qin was the one you were with.

you can't help but hug him a little bit tighter.

-

you wonder if sylus knew about your desire to unwind.

you wonder if he knows just how much you like these joyrides, how much you crave them.

you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he can read your mind.

it certainly feels like it sometimes. or maybe he just knows you that well. maybe you're both two halves to a whole.

you don't know how long you're on the road for, but you realize you're stopped when you can feel the dizziness hit you full-throttle.

sylus sets the bike in park, kicking the stand down and removing his hands from the handlebars in favor of removing his helmet. he hangs it on one of the handles before twisting back to catch sight of your face.

"you alright, sweetie?"

"mhm.."

you only hum in response, eyes closed, reveling in his warmth in an attempt to ground yourself from the ride.

a lovely chuckle vibrates through his chest as he gazes down at you, nothing but love adorning his eyes.

he can't help the amused smile that dons his face at the sight of you.

with the way you're clinging to him, eyes scrunched, swaying ever so slightly to steel yourself now that you've stopped, he thinks you resemble a kitten clinging to its owner after a particularly eventful day.

even moreso because of the kitty ear helmet you're sporting.

as cute as it his, he coaxes you to lift your head up enough so he can remove it from you, clicking it open with a single hand and slipping it off of your head with ease, hanging it from the other handle before turning back and lightly patting your head.

after a couple of minutes you finally feel well enough to get up. you take a deep breath, lifting your head from his back, opening your eyes to meet the pretty rubies staring back into yours.

"hi, sylus," you grin.

"hi there, sweetie," he smirks, running his hands down your slightly unruly hair from the helmet.

he moves to stand and you loosen your arms, tearing your gaze away from him momentarily to survey the area, looking left, then right, and back to sylus. you blink.

"where are we?"

he laughs again, but its something between amusement and fondness.

"somewhere you can escape."

your heart throbs.

so he did....

at your awestruck expression, his brows furrow.

"don't tell me you think i didn't notice?"

"no, its..."

its the fact that he did.

he always did.

sometimes— oftentimes— you would call him to rant about something at work, maybe a lazy coworker, maybe some extra paperwork, the works. sometimes, you would give lively stories when he'd pick you up or you find yourself at his place, sitting at the kitchen stool, nursing a cup of whatever he'd served you, going on a lively rant or retelling a story about someone you proved wrong.

and he always listened.

some might say he looked forward to these rants. mostly because of how entertaining it was when you'd retell it.

even if he often had mephisto trailing you. he preferred to hear the story from your lips, your perspective. he'd offer his when he could, when you wanted it.

through the stories themselves, he could tell you were overworked, busy at the very least.

in his opinion, you could always use a break. but sometimes he knew when you needed it.

even for a short while. a little getaway.

disguised as another simple joyride.

you think your heart might just burst.

sylus watches your expression carefully, noticing you're lost in thought. he's about to break you from your trance when he catches you shiver from an oncoming breeze.

its not particularly cold out, but tonight definitely warranted a jacket. long sleeves at the very least.

he's already removed his jacket and reaches forward, stretching it behind you and resting it along your shoulders.

when you snap back to the present, you're enveloped in the sensation of cool leather and the scent of sylus. you breathe in deeply, looking up into his eyes, already staring back at you with that loving gaze.

you wrap your arms around his neck, head slightly tilted to the side, smiling up at him.

"however shall i return the favor, mr. sylus?" you whisper sweetly, eyes crinkling in amusement.

he doesn't know if you're referring to the ride, the jacket, or maybe both. he plays along anyway.

"whatever the lady deems sufficient, i will accept wholly," he replies, grabbing one of your hands and planting a kiss onto the knuckles.

"in that case..."

you pull him closer as you lean forward, eyes fluttering shut and tilting your head more to slot your lips against his.

true to his word, he returns the gesture.

one of his hands find their way to your face, cupping the softness as he returns the kiss with fervor, other slipping down to your hip to steady you on the bike.

your lips continue to mold and melt against each other, your lip gloss quickly smearing, neither of you paying much mind, maybe even driving sylus a little more insane as his hand slips from your cheek to the back of your head, tangling between strands of hair to push you impossibly closer to him.

when the need for air becomes too much to ignore, you pull away, taking deep breaths and looking deeply into sylus' eyes. he meets your gaze, equal desire dancing within them.

still in a little daze and out of complete adoration for him, you lean forward again, planting kisses onto his exposed neck this time, down to the collarbone peeking out from his shirt. his hands slip down to your waist, holding you firmly.

"sweetie...."

you continue your assault of affection, covering every exposed spot you can reach from your seat on the bike, but when your hands move to paw at his shirt, his hold on you tightens.

"such a needy kitten," he tries to tease, but it comes out breathless, his rapidly-increasing breaths betraying him.

"only for you," you murmur, planting a kiss over his chest, looking up at him.

his breath hitches.

"behave and i'll give you what you want later," he whispers, running a hand through your hair. you lean into his warm touch.

the way you're looking at him makes him weak, but he doesn't want to, not here. you deserve a comfortable, plush bed where he can show you his love if you'll allow him, not to be taken out here in the open, beneath the stars, not—

"sylus..."

who was he kidding....

how could he ever say no to you?

. . .

somehow, his shirt is loosened, his pants unbuttoned, and somehow, instead of being seated on his bike, you're now on his cock, panties pulled to the side, tits free from your top and bouncing with each movement, riding him as you please.

how could sylus ever resist you?

how could he when you were so pretty like this?

so pretty as you took control, using him to your pleasure, arms holding his shoulders for stability as you impaled yourself on him again, and again, and again, eyes dazed with nothing but adoration and desire for him, lips lazily melding against his, sucking marks into his neck.

god, what was he going to do with you?

"sweetie, slow— fuck— slow down..."

his hands held your hips to support you, allowing you to take what you needed from him.

"sylus...."

god you were so perfect like this.

"feels so good...."

he doesn't think you know how much he loves this too.

"feels amazing, sweetie, keep— ah— going..."

you haven't even been going for that long, but sylus feels himself getting close to that release.

what could he say? his love was just so pretty and perfect.

his hands trail up your body, pulling you closer to bury his face into your chest, groping the soft mounds, suckling on one nipple, then the other. your pleased sounds and stuttered movements urged him on.

"feel good, sweetie?"

"y-yes... so, so good—"

you interrupt yourself with your own moan crawling up your throat as he sucks hard before releasing with a pop in favor of sucking marks and bites into your breasts.

your hands move from his shoulders up to his head, fingers tangling into his hair as your movements grow sluggish, repeatedly grinding instead of properly riding him.

"sy-lus—"

"tired, kitten?" he murmurs playfully against your skin, eyes flitting up to yours.

"wanna come, 'm so close..."

he finishes leaving another mark, looking over your bitten and bruised breasts before pulling back slightly, hands slipping to your waist.

"do you need my help?" he offers, hands firmly gripping you for emphases.

"yes," you breathe.

and thats all he needs.

you know that sylus is strong. he's big, in more ways than one, and you know that for a fact. you see him in his boxing gym often, see the way he fights, see the way he lifts things with ease.

but its not until these intimate moments that you remember he can break you so easily if he really wanted, and something about that is so undeniably attractive to you.

sometimes when you're too much of a brat, you remember his strength all too well for the days or weeks to come when you wake with various bites, maybe some red marks, and the memory of him tossing, bending, and bullying you to his will.

but with how gentle he is with you majority of the time, how soft he is, you can forget.

and right now, as he lifts you up and down on his cock like you're nothing, the roles almost switched as if he's using you for his pleasure, is one of those times.

you can't help the cry that escapes you as he lifts you up, only his head intruding before pulling you back down to the hilt, filling you up so deliciously, overwhelming pleasure flooding through your needy body.

his speed slowly picks up, your work having already driven you both close to the edge. you pull him tighter against you, head thrown back as he lifts and drops you, moaning in tandem with one another.

you're mumbling sylus, sylus, sylus between broken moans and sounds of pleasure releasing into the night air as sylus pants against you, groaning when you clench down on him particularly hard.

"co—ming!" you manage to squeal, eyes shutting tight as you come undone all over his lap.

"coming, i'm coming, take it," he manages between gritted teeth, your sensitive body still being moved up and down his shaft.

you pull his face up and smash your lips against his as you feel the warmth explode inside of you, swallowing his sounds as you hum against his lips.

when you pull back, you realize you're not being moved anymore but the fullness remains, still seated on his cock. you feel a sudden chill, the night breeze whipping past you both. when you shiver, sylus chuckles.

"cold now?" he teases, reaching forward to tuck your breasts back beneath your top, fixing his jacket over you. you only slump against his chest in response.

"its your fault," you mutter against his chest. he only laughs, hand coming up to pet your hair.

"such a needy kitten, aren't you?"

a comfortable silence fills the air for a few minutes when sylus speaks up again.

"dont fall asleep here, i still have to drive us back."

"ok," you reply simply.

another moment passes.

"can we stay like this for a little bit longer?"

sylus smiles gently down at you.

"of course, sweetie," he murmurs.

you hum in contentment.

"sylus?"

"yes, sweetie?"

"thank you for this," you breathe out, lifting your head to plant a kiss to his chest before resting against it once more.

he exhales softly.

"anything for you, sweetie."

maybe you couldn't stay like that forever, not really, but for now, the full moon would shine down on the intertwined lovers, breeze swaying past their bodies as they were lost in their own little world, a bond that would surely last for its own eternity.

-

a/n: omg. omg! after monthsss its completed (yay!) im actually proud of this one i hope its received well..... time to lock in for my bday fics hehehhehe gonna freak it w all the li's :x

-

[jirsungs]

first halloween... gone wrong? | dms drabble #4

word count: 1.6k words

pairing: drummer!jisung x girlfriend!reader

synopsis: halloween was never your favorite. you would choose christmas over it in a heartbeat, but with your dorky drummer boyfriend who absolutely loves it never leaving your side, you might just tolerate the spooky holiday. (set in the drum me, stupid universe but can be read as a standalone!)

warnings: a knife is mentioned, the dms!couple is flirty and GROSS, but most of this is just fluff.

a/n: HIIII 😭 jirsungs nation, rise! it's been 2 weeks since any story related post has been uploaded, and i just want to deeply apologize for not being here ): i missed writing and putting my delusions down in a google doc. but i hope you guys enjoy this short drum me stupid drabble and missed these cutie patooties as much as i did ☹️ as always, feedback is ALWAYS loved and appreciated! happy reading <3

You were never fond of Halloween. Sure, you loved being able to go all out in costumes and go to Halloween parties with your friends, but you knew immediately that once those plans were over, you were left in your own accompaniment once again.

Some people would be joyful with spending the rest of their nights after parties and such alone, but you? You were used to the party scene and loved it when it never ended. Lucky for you, your dorky boyfriend of a few months, Park Jisung, always kept the party going.

“Hey, have you guys seen Ji?” You asked Ningning and her boyfriend, Jeno, after finally spotting them dancing together on the dance floor. Your voice was louder than usual due to Michael Jackson's Thriller bumping from the party speakers.

“No, we thought he was with you." Ning looks over to Jeno. “I thought he came with you and the guys.”

You both wait for Jeno's reply, but he just shrugs. “He was supposed to, but he was the last one to get ready. If anyone knows where he is, that's Chenle.”

You click your tongue. “I figured. I'm going to keep looking for him. Thanks, guys!”

Ning’s shout of “Good luck!” was the last thing you heard before you committed to walking through the crowd of musty bodies. You were surprised at how many people went all out on their Halloween costumes this year. Your surprise wasn't a bad thing though; if anything, you loved it.

You almost second-guessed your choice of costume. With you and Ning being the only girls in the group, you felt that it was right if the both of you matched. The angel costumes were cute; you were wearing a black tight dress while she wore white, but taking a look at the decided costumes this year, you began to feel basic.

Once you're out of the crowd, you spot Haechan, Mark, and Yeonjun in the corner. You take notice of Yeonjun trying his best to impress some girl while the two boys next to him silently judge, taking occasional sips out of their red solo cups. 

Haechan, in his Pennywise makeup and attire, sees you walking towards them, tilting his head at your costume. “What are you supposed to be? A demonic angel?”

Mark snickers at his friend's comment, which you pout at. “No. I'm just an angel who happens to wear black. And says you, Pennywise, isn't your costume like... super basic?”

Haechan gasps, his hand on his chest for the dramatic effect. Mark rolls his eyes and answers your question instead.

“Every year, the Rockway guys do a group costume. This year, we somehow decided on iconic horror movie killers.” 

“Ahhh… So, that explains your Leatherface mask.”

With a nod of his head, Mark replies with a “Yup.”

You glance back at the party, and the sudden remembrance of why you came up to them in the first place hits you. “Oh! By the way, have you guys seen Jisung? I literally can't find him anywhere.”

Your body physically sulks at their answers, telling you they haven't seen him in a while. With your hope slowly decreasing and the urge to ditch the party increasing, you decide to call him one last time. If he doesn’t answer, you’ll cut the party short and head home, unfortunately finding the comfort of your bed more enjoyable than being here. You loved the company of your friends, but it bummed you out that you haven’t seen your boyfriend all night after him telling you that he’ll be here.

After bidding your goodbyes to the group and giving Jeno the responsibility to get Ning home safely, you make your way to your car. It's late October with the breeze finally coming through, resulting in you rubbing your arms in hopes for warmth. As you walk, your ears pick up on the sounds of your heels clicking against the sidewalk cement until they pick up another pair of footsteps near you. At first, you don’t sweat it, already aware of the scattered groups outside of the frat. 

But as you walk more down towards your car, the shuffling footsteps don’t leave you. Okay, you’ve had enough of this. Your slight irritation was slowly increasing due to this sudden interruption of your plans to waste the rest of your night away by changing out of this angel get-up and watching comfort films.

The only person you craved to see you in this costume was nowhere to be found, anyway. Finally turning around, you face the person but stay near your car for safety reasons.

“Who are you, and why do you keep following me?” You ask.

You didn’t mean to have your words come out sharply, but when you found out your culprit to be someone in a Ghostface costume, it only made you roll your eyes.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but if you’re just here to mess with me, is it okay if you can choose someone else? I really don’t have the energy for this.”

A beat passes and still no response from the person. It was almost as if their feet were stuck in the cement; you were starting to feel chills at the creepy mask staring back at you. But then, your brain starts to put the pieces together.

The replay of what Mark told you earlier back at the party plays in your head. “Every year, the Rockway guys do a group costume. This year, we somehow decided on iconic horror movie killers.” Would it be a coincidence that Jisung, who you haven’t seen all night, just happens to be right in front of you?

Your face softens at the thought of the mysterious Ghostface being your boyfriend. “Ji, baby, if that’s you, I’m going to smack you. Where have you been all night? I called you three times.” 

Still no answer, but now they were slowly walking towards you, revealing what they were holding behind them to be a knife. From where you’re standing, you couldn’t tell if it’s real or a fake replica, but that doesn’t stop your grip on the driver seat handle tightening, ready to pull on it and get the hell out of here. 

But you try one last time. “Okay, quit it. This isn't funny.”

By this point, the wondering thoughts of whether this was Jisung or not cloud your mind. You’re now close to each other, and the Ghostface still hasn’t said anything. 

You know what? Fuck it! You’re not dying today! 

You tug the car door open, ready to rush inside, but the masked John Doe shuts the door before you can. Their gloved hand doesn’t budge on the door, making their body lean against it and impossible for you to get inside.

The fact that they haven’t shoved the knife into your body by now has you suspicious and less frightened, but more agitated. Finally, they remove the mask from their face, revealing— 

“Hi, pretty angel.” 

Your stupid, cheekily smiling boyfriend. 

He has no time to lean in and give you an apologetic kiss on the lips before you smack him on the chest and punch his arm. “You motherfucker!”

“Ow! What the hell was that for?” 

Your eyes squint at him asking you that, resulting in another punch to his arm. “Don’t ‘what the hell was that for’ me! You scared the shit out of me!”

You’re about to smack his chest again, but Jisung’s reflex hits faster than yours. Not giving you another opportunity to hit him, he’s quick to take hold of both of your wrists, which you immediately try to get out of. You hate (love) how strong he’s been getting. With his constant drumming and going to the gym with the guys on the side, it became more and more difficult for you to get out of his grip. 

With your hands unable to move, he takes the chance and plants quick kisses all over your face. Your face flusters quickly with you trying to move away from his lips. He knows he got you when your tugging to get out of his hands stops and you start giggling.

“Ji, stop it!” Your giggles only increase when his kisses do, leading him to drop your hands and place his on your waist instead. 

“I missed you. I’m sorry I didn’t answer; I wanted to keep up the bit of scaring you.” He says after giving you a big cheek kiss and pulling you closer to his chest.

You can’t stop the giddy smile forming on your face. “It’s okay. Just never scare me like that again or I will—” you point your pointy finger on his chest, almost in warning, creating some space between you two, “cut your balls off.” 

But he pays no mind to your threat, smiling down at you like a loser in love. “Yes, ma’am. Never again.”

You encircle your arms around his waist, looking up at him doe-eyed. “Now, can we please go home and watch comfort movies?” 

“Can I first admire how fuckin’ gorgeous you look in this and then go home?”

Oh. You forgot you had this costume on.

Your cheeks heat up at his words. “Language, Park. You could’ve admired this all you wanted earlier if you didn’t leave me alone the whole night.”

He pouts, “Will I at least see this costume some other time, baby?”

"Hmm.” You pretend to think. “I guess, you just have to wait and see.”

“Why wait when I can see it on you tomorrow?” There's a glint in his eyes, and you know it can only mean trouble.

“Easy, drummer boy.”

Little did he know that his almost insulting prank on you sparked an idea in your head. But it’s best to save that for next year, right? 

You guess, with Park Jisung by your side, you wouldn’t mind waiting another year to see what other Halloween pranks he has in store for you.

[girliism]

punk!patrick x reader

-

the minute you and your friend walk up to the house it’s quite obvious there’s a party going on. from the people dry humping on the grass outside to the music pouring out the house. you wondered how the cops hadn’t been called yet.

inside smelt like weed, sweat and other bodily fluids. right off the bat you realize these aren’t the kinda people you’re used to partying with. they were all dressed in heavy black clothes and makeup with jewelry covering their faces.

you stuck out like sore thumb in your mini jean skirt and pink top.

“i can’t believe you talked me into this.” you were currently being squished between bodies of people in someones stuffy basement. “it’s gonna be totally worth it ok, the guys in this band are hot.” your friend yelled back in your ear. that’s honestly the real reason you even joined her.

the instant screams that erupted when five guys walked onto the makeshift stage cut you off from responding to her. and the second your eyes caught the drummer you were hooked.

he had mini spikes in his black hair, piercings studded out of his eyebrow, ears and lip. loud shitty punk rock music blared in your ears, but you were completely focused on the unnamed drummer who was twisting his drumsticks between his fingers before beating them down. banging his head in time to the beat. you eventually found yourself jumping and screaming along with everyone else.

by the time their set came to an end your throat was sore and you could feel sweat bedding on your hairline.

“thanks for that energy you guys we got another band coming up soon so either stick around or don’t.” and you didn’t. the second you saw the drummer getting up, making his way through the crowd and you perked up. “hey. i’m gonna go get a drink.” you absentmindedly patted your friends shoulder, following after the black haired boy.

-

you caught up with him in the kitchen. he was chugging back whatever was in his cup before pouring some more. you tried not to get distracted by his wife beater that seemed a size too small from the way the hemline sat cropped showing off his happy trail.

“your guys set was really good.”

the guy in front of you took one look up and down at you before scoffing into his cup. “really?” you hummed, nodding your head, and pouring yourself a drink. “i loved all the um— anti conformist lyrics.” he shook his head and laughed. “right right. listen don’t take offense but are you sure you’re at the right party?” he was totally right you were at the wrong party, but that didn’t mean he could call you on it.”

it was your turn to scoff. “and why wouldn’t i be right party?” he just shrugged. “doesn’t really seem like your speed.” “and how do you know what my speed is?” you cocked your head to the side. “didn’t your mother ever tell you to not judge based on the cover, huh?” he threw up his hands in defense. “you’re right, i’m sorry. thank you for enjoying the show.”

“you’re welcome.”

there was silence before he spoke again. “i’m patrick by the way.” you repeated his name, testing how it felt in your mouth then introducing yourself.

you watched him out the side of your eye chew on the rim of his solo cup. “so.” you cleared your throat. “do you guys always play basements?” the drummer, you now know as patrick shook his head. “sometimes we play dive bars and other parties. it’s just this is our bassist brothers house so lets he us play whenever.” you nodded, “that’s sweet”

“he’s an asshole.” you nearly choked on your drink at the abrupt answer. “but he lets us use his garage for practice so i guess he’s ok.”

it was patrick’s turn to ask you a question. “you play any instruments.” you tilted your head up thinking. patrick’s eyes immediately hone in on your neck thinking about how good it’d look decorated in the marks he wanted to leave behind. “piano in the fifth grade.” you reveal.

“cute.”

suddenly patrick was close to you. “come with me.” he abandons his drink to grab your wrist pulling you with him.

-

you got a semi bad feeling when you guys reached the destination. it was dark but you could tell it was also spacious. you could only hope your weren’t about to get murdered by a guy in eyeliner.

“tada.”

the lights came on and you let out a breath. it was just a garage.

“and why are we in here?” you turned around to look at him, your eyes catching his fingers moving to twist the lock.

patrick walked around you to the drumset that sat near a wall. “was just a little loud in there.” he took a seat on the stool in front of the drums. “how long have you been playing.” you asked, walking you fingers crossed that gold cymbals that’s dinged together softly. “since i was ten.”

“a real professional, huh.”

patrick laughed holding out the drumsticks in your direction. “wanna try?” you nodded

you sat in his lap with his big hands covering your as he guided them to drum a simple beat. “so, gonna tell me why you’re really here.” his voice was deep in your ear. “just wanted to see who was playing tonight.” you say sticking to your lie.

“bullshit.”

his hands leave yours and rest on your bare thighs. “come on just tell me. i know you don’t listen to this shit.” he referenced to the music that you could hear faintly. “fine, my friend is more into this stuff i only came because the band was supposedly hot.” you shrugged.

you felt the rumble of his laugh on your back and his fingers sliding up your thighs.

“and are they? hot, i mean.” patrick’s breath was hot against the back of your neck, his lips ghosting your skin. “mmm, the drummers pretty alright.” you tease. turning around to face him. “that right.” you nodded, making the first move to press your lips against his.

the kiss escalated quickly, you tugging on his bottom lip piercing with your teeth earning a groan from him. he slide his hand down the front of your skirt. “o-oh my god.” patrick easily slipped his middle finger into your wet heat. “you’re so wet.” he muttered against the skin of your neck that he was sucking marks into. “a-another.” you moaned and patrick’s pushed his ring finger in and pumped them both in and out at a fast pace, his palm hitting against your clit.

you abandoned the drumsticks on the floor grabbing on to patrick’s wrist. “oh fuck! right there.” your knee jerked up hitting the drum set causing the cymbals to bang together drowning out the obscene squelching noises, when patrick’s finger tips find your g spot.

“m’close.” you whine, throwing your head back on to his shoulder. “gonna cum all over my fingers,huh? ” he said in your ear. pressing kisses on your cheeks and jaw. you could only nod, your whimpering getting louder and breathing getting heavier. all it took was patrick’s thumb flicking at your clit to send you over.

“oh my god, u-uh!”

patrick let you ride out your high, grinding your hips down on his fingers. you slumped back into him, catching your breath. patrick pulled his hand and out you pants and turned your face towards him. you ignored the cringey feeling of your wet fingers against your cheek. he fitted his tongue into your mouth in a messy make out.

“fuck.” patrick pushing you to stand up before dragging you by your belt loop to the wall that was behind you. “need to be inside you.” he rushed out, pulling you in for another kiss that tasted like weed and fireball. “this wanted you wanted all along right? to get fucked.” he hiked up your skirt to your waist, pulling your panties out and disregarding them on the floor.

he unzipped his pants enough to pull his cock out. “wanted to come to the show and play groupie?” he traced the tip of his cock on your already sensitive cunt. “you can be my little groupie, follow me around.”

“yeah-yes!” you threw your head back hitting the wall when patrick pushed his full length into you. patrick held your legs around his waist, squeezing the fat of your ass between his calloused palms in a bruising grip.

“god, you’re tight.” patrick groaned, thrusting his hips up.

you didn’t know how long you’d last, your inner walls still sensitive and throbbing. the feeling of patrick’s cock dragging against them had your moans bouncing off the walls of the garage. “f-feels so good.”

patrick moaned, completely taken by the site of his dick disappearing in and out of your cunt, coming back wetter each time. “this perfect pussy.”

your guys moans mingled together in a mix of low and high pitched grunts and groans.

your nails embedded themselves in patrick’s shoulders. “gonna cum again.” you whined and patrick sped up. his cock head drilling into that soft spot inside you. patrick dropped his head into the crook of your neck grunting into it. “shit, do it. wanna feel you cum on around me.”

you took hold of patrick’s dark locks messing up his gelled spike. your walls got tighter around him. your head hitting the back of the wall, and a moan getting stuck in throat in the midst of your orgasm.

“f-fuck.”

patrick pulled out still hard and on the verge of cumming, jerking himself off in four hasty strokes before he released on your inner thighs and the wall.

“holy fuck.” patrick slotted his lips against your in a wet kiss.

you both silently got back dressed. you tugging your skirt back in place and patrick stuffing his dick back in his pants.

“here.” patrick picked a sharpie that was lying around, and grabbed hold of your arm. “my number.” he scribbled it in messy writing. “just in case you want these back.” he grabbed your lost underwear off the floor holding them up before tucking them into his back pocket. leaving you in the garage to collect yourself

-

[tojismain]

clenched jaws and promises

someone tells you that you're not toji's type, were they right or are you just scared?

“You’re Toji’s girl, right?” This girl had been staring at you for the entirety of the party, waiting for her moment to pounce and you just left Toji to get some hors d’oeuvres at the end of the hallroom while he greeted someone. 

“Uh yeah.” You replied, smiling slightly. 

She hums with an amused smile. “You’re different from what I expected.” 

You could’ve imagined the whole thing, but you could swear that the sentence carried a venomous tone. 

“Oh? What did you expect?” You asked, hoping you misread her intention. 

“I mean...” She gestures over your frame with her black-painted acrylics. “Just- you know, you’re not really his type. Not what I expected to see.” Definitely venomous.

“And what exactly is his type?” Your smile was completely gone as you stared at her. 

“Different, that’s all. Guess he switched up, didn’t he?” Her smile grows at the sight of your discomfort and you were certain your eye was twitching. 

“I guess so.” You grasped the glass in your hand tighter. 

She steps closer and leans her head forwards as she whispers, “He’s going to get bored, you know? He needs someone exciting. I doubt you and your life can keep it enticing for him. No offense, you just seem like the fragile-type. I mean you probably didn’t even want to come to this, did you?” 

"Yeah." She laughs as she backs up before continuing, her voice back to normal, “But what do I know? Maybe he’s into that.” And you doubt she knew what Toji needed. 

Your jaw was clenched and your words come out shaky, “Thanks for letting me know.” 

She brushes her hand over your shoulder, “No worries! Just giving you a heads up. It’s pathetic to see someone cling on to something that’s clearly not meant to be.”

In that moment, you wished you were more confrontational and could slap her, but you walk away before causing a scene. 

You end up in the fancy bathrooms looking at yourself in the mirror. Was she right? You knew Toji went for different types of girls before you, but that means nothing right? But, all you could see was a reflection of things you weren’t for him.

You spent some time in there fixing your makeup and trying not to let her words affect you. It wasn’t effective but you were really good at lying to yourself, so for tonight, it’ll have to do.

You step out of the restroom and see Toji leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He looked unbothered and straight-faced, until he turned to look at you.

He looks at you for a second before reaching out and grabbing your wrists, pulling you to him and trapping you between his body and the wall. 

A gasp leaves your mouth at the sudden movement, “Is something wrong?” You breathed out. 

He leaned down to bury his face in the crook of your neck, he hums, “Took you a while in there.” He says in a grumble. 

“I just- I needed to freshen up.” Your face burned red as one of his hands gripped your waist, keeping you against him.

“For that long?” He asked as he nipped the skin on your shoulder, starting to leave small marks.

You whine at his actions. “Toji-”

His nips turn to peppered kisses. A grin makes its way on his face at your whining. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” 

His question was meant to be teasing, but it reminded you of your previous conversation with the girl and you moved away from him slightly.

“Nothing.” You managed to mutter out. 

He lifted his head and looked down at you. His eyebrows furrow, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

You nod your head and smile slightly, “Yeah I'm okay.”

He noticed that something was bothering you so he grabbed your chin with his hand and let his eyes roam over your face. 

“When are we going home?” You asked before he could make any comments or ask any questions. 

You avoided his eyes and tried to move your face away from him, but he splays his hand at your jaw. He brushes his thumb back and forth and he notices your discomfort—not from him, but clearly from something. 

“Soon. We’ll leave soon, baby.” He trails his hand down to your own and interlaces your fingers. 

The both of you walk away from the hallway and make your way back to the mainroom. The minutes go by with Toji talking to numerous people, his words were now quick, wanting to leave more than anything.  

Eventually he turns to look at you, “Let’s go now, yeah?” He asks, his gaze harshening as he fixes on someone else behind you.

part 2

aurelia

[nvyyou]

literally just feminizing bill. thats all.

note: i tried to keep this as gender neutral as i could but it does talk about feminine panties so i guess it could be seen as fem leaning/presenting. i got drunk off half a shot last night and finished this so the ending might be bad but this has been locked up in my drafts for almost 2 months.

tags/warnings: epilogue bill, smut (the most non explicit smut ever) forced feminization, face smacking, literally just dry humping, probably ooc at the end. (let me know if i forgot something)

bill had been especially annoying lately during date nights. It always started by him putting on a movie and complaining about how you never put out. You knew you had to put him in his place before it got out of hand.

watching him insert the movie he picked out into the vcr, walking over to the couch while telling you about the movie. you couldn’t help but have this feeling in your stomach that he would complain about how the date was going. you loved having date nights with him even if it was just staying in and watching a move, but he would always mention how you didn’t want to sleep with him after everything he’s done, and how he’s so nice you should reward him sometime. not even 20 minutes into the movie and he already started.

“you’re a real tease you know.”

peeling your head away from the tv to look at him through blinking eyes

“what now bill?” you huff in response to his annoying comment.

“what do you mean what now? you invite me over here looking like a whore and you don’t even want sleep with me?” raising his voice a bit and turning towards you so he can see the hurt expression on your face.

“you know what… im tired of this.” you softy push him away from you and storm off to your room muttering under your breath.

he knows youre coming back, you do this every time. he gets mad at you over something stupid, you run off to calm down, and come back later like nothing happened. not this time though. this time you are going to show him how a real whore gets treated. grabbing your makeup bag off the floor and walking over to your dresser rummaging through the top drawer for the most feminine pair of panties you own, shoving them in your pocket and grabbing your digital camera on the way out, you walk back out to the couch and stop in front of him to speak.

“listen, im done with your shit. you’re gonna learn how a slut gets treated do you understand.” dropping your stuff on the table, grabbing the remote, muting the long forgotten movie.

he looks up at you through his glasses in confusion while mumbling some words nervously. you have no idea what came over you as you bring your hand up and smacking him across the face just hard enough to nock his glasses down a bit.

“i asked you a question” grabbing his jaw and moving his face so he was looking at you. admiring the red mark appearing on his cheek. he nodded and whimpered out a quiet yes. he looked so pathetic right now and you loved it.

“good, now get up” pulling him up slightly by his jaw. he stumbles to his feet while you giggle and fix his glasses with your other hand. once he is standing up you switch spots with him so you are sitting down on the couch telling him to get on his knees in front of you.

“are you embarrassed?” you asked while reaching for the makeup bag sitting on the coffee table.

“why are you doing this?” he asks quietly trying not to make you madder than you already are. he’s never seen you like this, but he finds himself scared and slightly turned on. you usually never fight back with him so for you to snap at him like this was unlike you.

“oh i think you did this to yourself” you say while reaching for his glasses, taking them off and putting them on the table. “listen to me. im going to make you look like a pretty little whore and then im going to do what i want to you. do you understand?” unzipping the bag looking for your mascara.

“look im sorry i didnt mean to make you mad we can just watch the movie and forget i said anything.” stuttering and speaking so fast you couldn’t help but laugh at him

“we are past the point for apologies.” grabbing his shoulders to pull him closer to the edge of the couch. opening the mascara and grabbing his jaw in one hand you pull his face up to yours applying it to his eyelashes.

“what color eyeshadow do you think i should use hmm?” letting go of his jaw, closing the mascara and putting it back in the bag, digging through it to find your brushes. “maybe a blue would look nice what do you think?” opening the pallet and tapping the brush into the blue eyeshadow. grabbing his jaw in one hand and moving the brush closer to his eyes he swiftly grabs your wrist.

“please don’t i promise i won’t say anything like that again. please” begging you to stop, blushing and looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“you did this to yourself. now let go of me and let me finish this.” gritting your teeth as you grip his jaw tighter. he releases his hand from your wrist, placing it on the floor in front of him. “close your eyes” you spit out at him lightly rubbing the brush on his eyelids. giggling slightly at how he flinches when the brush touches his skin. after finishing the eyeshadow you lean back looking at how pretty he looks with the makeup on. reaching in the bag on last time grabbing out your favorite lipstick color, holding his head still you apply it lightly to his lips.

reaching for his glasses you put them back on his face grabbing the mirror in your bag and showing him the finished product. “what do you think?” handing him the mirror to look while you put your makeup back in the bag.

“i look stupid” he mutters out, handing the mirror back to. you reach for your camera, turning it on and grabbing a handful of his greasy hair with your other hand, pulling his head up to look at you.

“good, now why don’t i take a picture of my pretty little whore.” quickly snapping a photo before he can say anything to stop you. admiring the outcome on the camera in your hands.

“please, no more” letting our small whimpers as your grip on his hair tightens. “get up, i have something else for you.” letting go of his hair and grabbing his hips when he stands up, pulling him closer by the waistband of his pants. pressing the side of your face to his lower torso as you wrap your hands around his hips, hugging him in a away. with how close you are to him now, you can tell how much he’s enjoying this despite his complaints.

looking up at him admiring the blush forming on his face, you lower your tone “i have one more thing i need you to do for me.” lightly running one of your hands down the front of his pants, not wanting to give into him too much. “what is it? please i just want to be done with this.” panting out as you continue to touch him through his pants, watching as his face gets redder with embarrassment. removing your hand from his pants you reach into your pocket taking out the panties you grabbed earlier. “put these on” balling them up and placing them in one of his his sweaty hands, keeping your face close to his waist.

looking down in his hand to see what you placed in it. balling it back up and shoving it in your face before stuttering out. “i… please dont make me” swatting his hand away from your face and moving to unbutton his pants. “either you can do it yourself or i can do it for you” removing your hand from his pants zipper, listening to him whimper as you stand up. “whats it gonna be, hmm?” resting your chin his shoulder, and placing your hands on his waist. “i’ll do it” he huffs out

removing your hands from his waist moving to take off his flannel jacket, sitting down on the couch and taking your top off, putting his jacket on your own body. Watching him remove his pants in embarrassment, swapping his underwear for the pair you gave him. the countless times he’s stolen your underwear, using them to help him get off, he has never once thought about putting them on. how degrading it feels to have such a feminine pair of underwear on, he couldn’t hide how turned on he was, how red his face was getting when he catches you staring at him from your spot on the couch.

laughing quietly in excitement motioning for him to sit down on the couch next to you. “here, why dont you help me with my pants.” standing up in front of him and placing his hands on your waistband, noticing how shaky they are. Watching him fumble with the button and zipper, cursing under his breath at how unstable his hands are. “how pathetic, you cant even take off someone’s pants.” placing your hands on his helping him undo the button and zipper, pulling them off and leaving them on the floor. “lay down” he nods frantically, resting his back on the arm of the couch watching as you straddle his waist, his breath hitching just loud enough for you to hear.

“are you enjoying this?” you ask while running your hands up his sides under his shirt. he nodded at you looking up through his glasses which seemed to be slipping slightly. using one hand to fix his glasses for him “use your words.” stopping the movement of your hand on his body, not wanting to give him what he wants until he admits it. “yes.. fuck yes, just please do something.”

you know he doesn’t last long, thats why you’re trying to drag this out. with how much you have been teasing him, you knew any form of contact would make him finish in seconds. he placed his hands on your waist trying to make you move against him. rocking your hips slowly against him, feeling his grip on your waist tighten not enough to hurt you but you knew there would be bruises there later. still moving your hands up and down his torso, while you speed up your movement. listening to his whimpering and whining, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut to stop the tears forming in his eyes. running his hands up your lower back pulling you down towards him, wanting to be closer to you, hiding his head in your neck. deciding to give in and let him have what he wants, you speed up your movement, listening to him let out full moans as you continue to rock your hips against him.

“you better not ruin those panties” pulling his head out of your neck by his hair, looking him in the eyes while continuing the fast pace movement of yourself on him. not wanting to lose the feeling building up for either of you. “please… i- i need to.” he whines not able to finish his sentence before desperately thrusting his hips up against you. he looked so good like this, eyes glossed over with lust, his head lolled back in the grip you have on his hair, the sweat on his face from the heat of both your bodies. caught up in admiring him, realizing you didn’t answer him. “you’re doing so good, cum for me please” in a breathy tone, moving your hips faster knowing he’ll be the only one to finish.

moving your hands to the sides of his face pulling him closer to you, passionately kissing him. he pulls away from the kiss placing his forehead to yours, thrusting his hips up a final time before finishing with a loud whimper. you slow the movement of your hips not wanting to overstimulate him, letting him rest back on the couch, laying down on top of him. letting him catch his breath before speaking. “you look so pretty like that” staring at his face admiring the way the makeup was running slightly from his tears. “will you shut up” he huffed out annoyed, wrapping his arms around your back, pulling you closer to him.

[catiuskaa]

feat. mrs. lee bahng

SUMMARY: why have a plot when your two gorgeous boys are finally having a short break before the comeback? y’all already know what to do.

WC: 0.6k

CW: lowercase! [NASTY SMUT] make sure to hide the bible if god watching. like, wash your hands after reading kind of nasty. man, i’m so ovulating right now.

REQ! by 🧋anonnie right here. omg. yes. just yes. no questions asked or needed, i gotchu.

[🔶 ★🎇★ 🔶]

one of them is kissing your neck, but with your eyes closed, you don’t bring yourself to guess just yet, just shiver, whimpering, before being able to feel the shape of his plush lips against your pulse.

“such a pretty princess,” chan whispers, his hands moving your hair off your face.

he had been wearing lipstick when he arrived home with minho after their last photoshoot of the day, which makes him chuckle, because neither of them can be too sure the makeup is still on.

actually, scratch that. minho licks his lips, bending to pepper kisses all over your stomach. if there was any lipstick still on his lips, he’s 100% sure its shimmer would look a hundred times better against your nude skin.

there’s a gasp the younger man holds back, a tremble in his voice when, even after making you reach the stars with his tongue, he still won’t fit.

“s-so… t-tight.”

you know that tensing up is about the worst thing you should do, and you try ignoring the awkward, stingy feeling that shoots through you when minho barely attempts to settle himself where you know he belongs.

luckily, chan’s there, leaving sweet kisses and teasing licks here and there, his hand traveling down to your clit, pressing figure eights and snickering to his hearts content at the sighs that come out of your mouth when specks of that yummy feeling slyly start seeping through.

“mmm, baby… such a champion,” he’s teasing, his teeth biting your cheek. your sweat tastes sweet, much like the champagne he had back at the studio with the boys, the day before the album came out.

both him and minho went back home smirking, knowing that the real celebration was waiting for them at home.

“takes cock so well… shit…”

minho can’t even dare to speak, a small part of him that doesn’g want to hurt you, and the other one that just knows that he’s a blink away from bliss.

“such a tight cunt, fuck.”

at his struggle, chan can’t help but snicker. you just pant, and take minho’s hand, kissing his palm before turning to chan and resting your other hand on his cheek.

“baby,” you sigh. his dimples smile at you, and he pecks your lips.

“it's okay, princess,” chan coos at you sweetly. “don't worry, mhh? min'll make it fit. make you feel really good, yeah?”

his lips can’t fathom leaving your skin, pecking, nibbling, kissing anywhere he can reach.

minho pushes further into you, and you whine, your eyes tearing up lightly, the tears not daring to fall down your cheeks after facing chan’s lips, kissing them away.

“so warm and tight.” minho is oozing in a comfy hornyness, lying against you, his body almost melting over yours, his hands hugging your waist, lips licking and nibbling on your nipples playfully.

“colour, baby?” chan whispers to your ear. there’s no agreement to decide whether today’s about fucking or about making love, but his sweet marks on your neck, as well as the ones minho leaves on your cleaverage are always welcomed.

“green, pretty,” you smile, playing with his hair as you bit your lip, moaning at minho’s antics. “so green. greenest.”

it seems like your answer made him regain his stamina, because you can feel him twich as he licks and kisses down to your stomach. in a harsh manner he takes chan by his neck and plants a hard kiss on his lips. then, his nose rubs against yours, and he bites your lip cheekily, smirking down at you.

“gonna make sure you remember tonight until we come back from tour.”

seems like today isn’t either love nor fucking, because why choose if, ultimately, you can do both?

[🔶 ★🎇★ 🔶]

~kats, who has spent at least two hours thirsting over the album’s pics.

catiuskaa, july 2024 ©

[aesthyuckic]

[11:18pm]

The night was quiet and peaceful. Music played softly in your dimly lit bedroom. Little taps of a phone keyboard could be heard just a few inches down from where you sat on the bed. You looked from your own phone to see Donghyuck looking down and texting someone.

For a moment your mind wondered to the potential of him texting a lover that made you eyes waiver unknowingly. Surely he would’ve told you if that was the case, you were best friends after all. He was probably just texting his other best friend, Mark.

You wanted to be in his heart only like he was in yours so badly. You screamed about it every night into your pillow on the rare occasion he wasn’t there. When he was, you settled on silently screaming while rolling around in anguish on the bed where he slept soundly next to you, blissfully unaware.

You loved staring at him. He was so beautiful with his golden skin and the fluffy brown hair that was growing out nicely. He was slouched against the wall but still his composure was so elegant. His hands that typed away seemed so dainty and effortless as his fingers were adorned with rings. The thought of holding them and feeling that familiar warmth always made your breath hitch in your throat as you felt your heart stop. Your gaze shifted with one of his hands that reached up to move his glasses back up. He wore no makeup due to the time which allowed you to view the moles on his cheeks that cascaded down his neck perfectly. The longer you looked the more things you found to love.

So lost in your own mind, you hadn’t cared about the fact he noticed your eyes and was now looking at you.

“What’s up?” He asked, his head tilted a bit.

That was his way of asking if anything was wrong. There was a familiar flutter in your chest from the simple action. You blinked a few times before sitting up straight against your pillows and shaking your head.

“I was just thinking.” You shrugged.

“About what?” He pondered.

“Your moles.” You answered.

A pout appeared on his lips at the mention. He confided in your once they made him insecure which you could never understand. You never knew how to respond just because you knew you’d end up with a whole essay which would be suspicious.

“You know-“ He started.

“I know.” You confirmed before he could finish his sentence. “I never understood your resentment toward them, Hyuck.”

“Of course not.” He sighed.

“Some people theorize they’re where your twin flame kissed you most in the last life. They’ve always been pretty and maybe that idea can help you change the way you think about them.”

His phone landed in his laps at your words. You could see his eyes look across your own face and body in silence. He moved from his snug spot against the wall on your bed to sit directly across from you. The closeness always startled you despite how regular it was between the both of you. It never failed to get your heart going and your only hope was he didn’t know.

“You have them too.” He leaned in closer as his eyes scanned your face.

He moved the strands of hair out of your face and tucked them behind one ear. You didn’t expect him to get any closer but suddenly he leaned in and left a kiss on your temple.

“Like here.” He pointed out after leaving the unexpected peck.

He reached up to grab your chin and then there was another kiss on your own cheek, not far from your lips.

“And there too.” He hummed.

There had been plenty times where the both of you had kissed each other cheeks. Something felt different now though. You just hope he hadn’t been able to see the blush appear on your cheeks and the felt the heat with the kiss.

Both hands now cupped your cheeks in such a way there was no way to avoid his stare. You could see his gaze move downward before moving back to meet your own once again.

“I’ve never noticed how many little moles you have around your lips.” He smiled. “I guess I kissed you a lot there in the last life… And I’ll do it again in this one.”

Before you could even question him, his plump, soft lips were against your own. The air was taken out of your lungs and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. A sigh escape automatically and you could feel your body relax under his touch. You moved into his body more as his hands moved down your sides to rest on your waist as your hands instinctively went to his neck to pull his closer only to slid down to his rest on his chest as his arms were now wrapped around your waist to pull you flush against him.

You could feel his rapid heartbeat under your palm which had you smiling against his lips.

Oh yes, he would most be definitely keeping his promise to you.

not proodfread. aesthyuckic © 2024. all rights reserved.

[reiderwriter]

You'd Be Like Heaven To Touch♣️

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Female Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: After a whirlwind weekend, you're finally ready to go home and deal with the mess you created in Vegas. But you just cannot get your new Husband out of your head.

Warnings: Oral sex (F receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, no mention of birth control, and you're going to hate me by the end of this sex scene bye

A/N: They're officially out of Vegas! I'm so excited to share the next few parts with you guys, and we finally got our first taste of smut!! Also, the Reid in the gif is the exact one I'm picturing in this scene so yeah 🤡 smirk and all 😏

Here's the series masterlist, and my general masterlist!~

Prev. Chapter // Next Chapter

The race back to the hotel was easy compared to the ensuing rush to pack up an entire hotel room's worth of mess in the time between their arrival and their check-out time. Sure, they’d had to pack light as travelling FBI agents, but with the added mess you’d created in Spencer’s room, and the additional luggage of their marriage licence, the packing was needlessly more frantic than usual. 

When you finally did make it down to the lobby, you froze up a little, realising that you were the final one to exit your room. You watched as seven pairs of eyes shifted to you as soon as the elevator door opened, hauling your go-bag further up your arm from where it was slipping down. You thanked your past self for having the foresight to put some makeup into the bag, having used up a copious amount of your concealer to cover up any evidence of your night with Reid. You still kept a small distance from the others, just in case.

“Sorry, were you all waiting for me?” you smiled at them as you got closer, hoping that they’d not ask questions at what had taken you so long. Your eyes caught Reid’s and you could see that he was looking down at your neck. 

After an entire day morning and night in your company, you knew he’d seen the results of his handiwork. You wondered if the look that raked over you now was that of the dominant Reid from the night before, who you presumed marked you in such prominent places so people would know you were his, or that of the concerned team mate, who didn’t want to be caught and questioned by the others. You tried to shake both images from your head, not sure which would please you more. 

“It’s okay, you’re not late, the cars are being bought around now and the jet leaves in 30,” Hotch greeted you when you finally got close enough. 

“Late night, mama?” Morgan laughed at you as soon as he turned to you. “How did all that drinking last night go for you?” 

You were so wrapped up in Reid and what he may or may not be thinking that you had to pull yourself back to reality for a second to realise that Morgan had been talking to you. 

“What? Oh yeah, I guess. I don’t think I drank too much, but I did sleep like a baby, so who knows.” You laughed a little to punctuate the point, and then watched Morgan’s reaction closely. You were still looking for the two “agents” who had been witness to your marriage, after all. 

“Ooh, you didn’t sample the local goods last night then? I’ve heard that Downtown Las Vegas is the best place to meet single men, and you were just complaining that you hadn’t been out in a while,” Penelope said from beside the man. 

“No, no, the place Reid took me to was more library than bar, and as far from Downtown as you could get, so it was a nice and easy night for me.” 

“And if the local men are anything like our resident Las Vegan,” Emily jumped in, looking at Reid. “Then I’m sure they’re not really what Y/N is looking for.” She laughed and they all start making their way out of the lobby. 

You try to avoid meeting Reid’s eyes after that last comment, sure that you wouldn’t be able to stop the grimace of apology from coming to your lips. But you couldn’t help yourself, and you forced your eyes up into a small peak at his face, only to see his downturned eyes and the small smirk that was crossing his lips. 

You hung back for a second, needing to clue this out, and nudged him with your elbow. 

“What’s that look for?” you whisper at him in a harsh tone, hoping that no one was watching the two of you. 

“It’s nothing.” He says, but the smile stays on his lips. You give him another look, silently communicating that you’re not taking that first answer and he nods a little as he walks beside you. 

“If they could see the marks on your neck, they wouldn’t be thinking that I’m not what you’re looking for, right?” You could feel the heat in your cheeks, and you playfully whacked him in the arm a bit, before pushing through the doors of the hotel and feeling the sun on your cheeks once again. 

You watched him climb into the car you took earlier and stop yourself from following him. You were going to need some time to think about how you should take that last comment, and a half an hour drive outside of his presence would probably do you good. Climbing up into the other SUV, you take a deep breath, feeling all the restlessness of the night before creep up on you.

–X–

You don’t know where you are, but you know that you’re burning up under his touch. His lips are on your skin, working their way down from your neck to the valley between your breasts and all you can hear is the sound of your own lustful moans as his hands trail further still. 

You don’t know who it is on top of you, but you know that you’re dying for him to be there, to push his tongue into your mouth and make you submit to his will. His fingers wrap around the waistband of your panties and roughly pull them down, opening you up to him. You feel his lips ghost down further still, until he’s there between your legs. 

“Is this where you wanted me, baby? So desperate to have me, my little slut.” His words send another shiver down your spine as you roll your hips up into his face again. 

He lets out a small chuckle and gives you what you want, finally lowering his tongue again and letting it meet your desperate cunt. He sets his attention on your clit, and your eyes roll back in bliss, not caring who it is between your legs giving you this much pleasure, just desperate for them to keep going. 

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” you beg, fisting a handful of your mystery man’s hair. It’s soft to the touch, a little curly at the ends and it feels familiar, but you’re unable to think about it for more than a second before he’s pushing a finger into you. 

“That’s it baby. Look at you, so fucking tight around my finger. You want me to push my cock into you, you’re going to have to relax for me baby, okay?” You still don’t know who it is, but you nod for him, knowing you want nothing except everything he’s telling you that you want. 

He’s thrusting his fingers into you at a relentless pace now, adding one digit every few thrusts, until he’s up to three. His face is still buried in your pussy, tongue still flicking against your clit, his other hand pushing you down by the hips as he forces you closer and closer to the edge. 

His hand drops down to your thigh, pushing your legs further apart, and it stays there feeling overly warm, almost burning you up from just that simple touch. 

“You’re so wet for me baby, going to take my cock now?” You whimper and nod your head as fervently as you can, begging him with your eyes to push into you. He finally pulls his head up to your own, and you’re finally face-to-face with your mystery man. 

“So wet for me, right baby? So wet for your husband?” Spencer questions you as he pushes into your wet, dripping hole, and you’re so surprised that all you can do in response is moan. 

With each thrust, he drops a moan into your ears, and you feel your climax building quickly. 

“Ah fuck yes, Y/N,” you claw at his back, desperate to pull him closer. 

“Spencer, don’t stop, fuck.” Your name begins dropping from his lips like a prayer as his thrusts get sloppier, wetter, deeper. 

“Y/N… Y/N……… Y/N….” 

–X– 

“Y/N, are you finally awake? We’ve been calling your name for a minute now.” Your eyes snap open and you come face to face with Emily and JJ from the seats opposite you on the jet. 

“We thought you might be having a nightmare. Want to talk about it?” JJ asks, her voice in a hushed tone as a look of sympathy crosses over her face. 

Whatever that was, it certainly was not a nightmare. But the scenario you were in now certainly was. 

“What? Oh, yeah. I don’t know, maybe it was a nightmare.” You desperately hope you sound convincing enough for them to drop the subject. The last time you’d mentioned a lack of sleep, half of the team had approached you with different home remedies and tips for getting your full 8 hours. The last thing you needed right now was the constant reminder that you’d just had a sex dream about Spencer Reid on the jet whilst surrounded by all your close friends and colleagues. 

Including the man himself, you realised, as you stretched your neck out from its awkward sleep position, and caught the sight of him there next to you. Your car had reached the jet first earlier that day, and it had taken all of two minutes after boarding before you’d been claimed by sleep, so you hadn’t realised he’d positioned himself next to you. 

A quick glance down had told you he’d done more than that. Wrapped around your legs, and so big that it stretched over his too, was a large blanket, the one that he usually used on your longer trips home. He was asleep in the seat next to you, you noticed after an embarrassing amount of time, head resting in one of his hands, lips slightly open, looking the image of tranquillity. 

His other hand was beneath the blanket, somewhere you couldn’t see, but as you shifted slightly in your chair trying to get comfortable again, you realised it was definitely somewhere you could feel. His hand had somehow fallen into your lap, and he had a firm but sleepy grip on your left thigh, the one closest to him. Now that you had moved, so did his hand, rubbing gentle strokes into your skin every few minutes. Slow enough that you were sure he was still asleep, but still enough to have am effect.

His hand was hot against your leg, and his touch burned. You remembered the sensation from your dream and immediately did your best to temper your facial expressions, not wanting to gather any more concern from the two women opposite you at the table than you already had. 

“Y/N? If you want to talk about it, we’re always here you know? This job can be overwhelming at the best of times, and we just worked a hard case. No one would blame you for needing to take some time for yourself.” Emily looked at you in concern now, and it was taking all of your will to keep your eyes on her, and nod at the appropriate time, your brain short-circuiting now that you realised Reid was so close. 

Where did this sudden infatuation with him come from? You’d always appreciated that he was a good looking guy, but you’d never thought about him so thoroughly before, and certainly not enough to lose yourself on the jet to inappropriate thoughts. 

It was the insanity of the weekend, you told yourself, it had to be. You’d learnt more about him and accidentally, possibly, maybe slept together, and now your body was just getting it out of your system. Either that or you’d just learnt too much about his preferences and your brain was just trying to come to terms with each revelation. 

You settled back into comfortable conversation with Emily and JJ, trying your best to convince yourself that your dream had meant nothing, blocking out any noise in your head that was suggesting otherwise. 

Especially the little thought at the back of your brain that was reminding you that you hadn’t removed his hand from your thigh, and that you really didn’t want to. 

🏷️@w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @bluecandycake @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @daddy-dotcom @zaapsite @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @kat453 @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @kapeyama @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @jamiemuscatosslut @sharkcat1928 @dysphoricsanity @alyssaxstan @ghostheartbeat @beguiling3lavender @Casss2111 @zada-quinn @zatannas-wand @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @kspencer34 @academiacoffeelover

@softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @cow-parsley @wakaladjarin @itsyagrillkat @ratbastardchild @crazyforreid @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @myinnerwonderlandmind @axionn @bastard-chicken-3 @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @doriantomybasil @shqwqrma @shits8gigs @rosiehale23 @sadroses97 @destielshipper88

[victorbutnotreally]

Hello again, love. I finally thought of something (sub bangchan x top male reader). The reader is a member of the group

So basically, the reader had just gotten the dorms after practicing a dance and is sweaty but isn't tried

When he walked into the dorms, he tried to get in quietly, thinking everyone was asleep but behold, there's channie sitting on the couch watching a movie (or working) but didn't notice the reader just got home so he quietly sneaks behind him and leans down and is like "why are you up" and channie say he was waiting for him and yeah

Mind is blank after that

(Soft dom reader, aftercare, clingy chan,)

And chan clawing reader back just cause it 🤭

LATE NIGHTS - BANG CHAN X MALE READER

Warnings: smut, swearing, bad writing.

A/N: First time writing smut. This is gonna be mid (and that's me being generous). Also, the tenses are all over the place. (I'm a science major, forgive me.) Hope you enjoy, darling.

The doors always sound so loud at night, but Mn was used to sneaking in and out, so he gets in quietly. Being the perfectionist he was, it took him a little longer to be somewhat satisfied with his performance. He's been at the studio for hours and the caffeinated energy drinks he drank certainly isn't helping him get to bed. He wasn't expecting Chan to still be awake, but honestly, he should have. The older man was probably making some final changes to their new title track, and Mn couldn't help but stare at him. There's no denying that the leader was adorable. He walked in and poked Chan's head. "Why are you up, hyung?" Chan was a bit startled, and he let out a sigh when he saw that it was just Mn. "Just...making sure everything's perfect, I guess." He looked tired as hell, immediately pulling Mn down to the couch and clinging to him. Mn wrapped his arms around Chan's body, kissing the top of his head. "You need sleep, hyung." "Says you." Mn rolled his eyes. Of course Chan would say that. His fingers carded affectionately through the leader's hair, silky locks which were dyed blond. Chan buried his face into Mn's neck, letting out a soft whine. It's not like Mn didn't notice the bulge in the older's pants, he just didn't mention it. "Mnie.." "Hm?" "I need help with...something. I- oh god, I shouldn't be asking this-" "Just tell me, Channie." The nickname and that firm tone just made everything worse (or better) for Chan. "Just...fuck me. Please." Maybe it was the tiredness, could be the horniness, but Mn had never seen Chan so...bold. "If you want to, that is." Ah, there it is, Chan being Chan. Mn smiled, laying Chan down onto the couch on his back. "You sure about this, Channie?" The question was met with desperate nods from the older male lying on his back, his eyes needy and his hands clutching Mn's shirt, pulling him closer. "Please..." Mn brings his lips closer to Chan's, pressing them together in a gentle kiss which was deepened by a desperate Chan who let Mn's tongue in within seconds, just wanting to be taken care of for once.

It wasn't soon before the clothes came off, sounds of pleasure echoing through the room. They were both going to get scolded by the makeup artists for the hickeys they littered over each other's skin, but it was worth it. Chan's moans got louder and more desperate as Mn pushed deeper into him, filling him completely. "O-Oh Mn...ugh..f-fuck please move.." "You're so pretty, Channie" Mn's hips were slapping against Chan's ass, and the older male's back arched as he felt Mn deep inside him. Chan was a beautifully disheveled mess. A sight that Mn wanted tattooed in his memory. Chan's hips bucked up, trying to meet Mn's thrusts. Mn's big hands rested on Chan's hips, gripping them tight. He let out a low groan when he felt Chan claw at his back, probably leaving marks which he would have to explain to his makeup artists at the photoshoot the next day. But did he care? Absolutely not.

Chan's eyes rolled back in pleasure, one of his hands gripping Mn's bicep while the other continued to claw at his back. Mn continued to rock his hips, Chan's moans only adding fuel to the fire that was Mn's desire. His hand wrapped around Chan's cock and began to jerk him off while continuing his movements. "You're doing so well, sweetheart." "T-Thank you, Mnie.." "So pretty.." Chan choked out a groan, arching his back and throwing his head back against the couch. He whimpered at the sight of Mn above him, eyes wide as he stared at the handsome man.

"Oh..god...f-fuck..Mn.." Mn threw his head back, keeping his fast yet quite gentle pace. His eyes roamed over Chan's hard-earned, breathtaking body, taking in the sight of his broad chest, his arms and of course, his washboard abs.

A moan escaped Mn's throat as he felt Chan clench around him. "Mnie...I'm close.." "Let go, darling..." Mn's gentle voice was enough for Chan to let himself release, spilling over Mn's hand and his stomach. Mn's hand was quickly brought to his own mouth, him licking off Chan's cum. With a few more thrusts, Mn could feel himself getting closer. As he began to pull out, Chan's hands grabbed onto his waist and pulled him back in. "Fill me up.." Mn's lips curved into a smirk as he kissed Chan passionately, his cum filling Chan with warmth. They both slump back into the couch, Mn pulling out and quickly wiping everything off with tissues that were on the desk. Chan had closed his eyes, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, as he tried to come back down from the overwhelming pleasure. he was a completely blissed out mess, his mind completely melted

Mn cupped Chan's face in his hands, kissing both his cheeks. "Everything alright, hyung-ah?" "Mhm...you...you're good at this." Mn just chuckled, pressing a kiss to Chan's nose before scooping him up in his arms. "Let's go shower, yeah?" "That'd be great.." And they cuddled happily ever after (till the morning).