#No one is forcing you to watch and as annoying as it is no one is really obligated to tell a story catered to you

[darksturnz]

── ⋮ ⌗ “FUCKIN’ TAKE IT. . .” ⟢ BF.ᐟMATT ᵎᵎ

CONTENTS: smut heavy-plot ・unprotected p n v・part two to THIS ・ this was requested!

His words replay in your mind, looping, sinking deep.

M’gonna make you the prettiest momma ever, ‘kay?

It’s filthy. It’s possessive. It’s exactly what you didn’t know you needed to hear.

A quiet whimper slips past your lips before you can stop it. You try to suppress it, biting down on the inside of your cheek, but Matt catches it—of course he does. His smirk is slow, knowing, dripping with amusement as he dips his head to press a kiss just below your ear.

“Didn’t answer me, sweetheart.” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s an edge to it now, something rougher, something hungry. His fingers press into your thighs, urging you forward, making you grind against him just a little harder. “Y’gotta tell me if that’s what you want.”

Your breath stutters. “Matt—”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t ease up, doesn’t let you shy away from the heat between you. His lips ghost over your jaw, down to the sensitive spot beneath it, where he knows you always melt for him. “Use your words, baby.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, humiliated by how quickly you unraveled, by how easily he turned your ache into something entirely different. But Matt doesn’t let you drift too far into your own head—he never does. His hands are patient, coaxing, always knowing exactly what you need before you even realize it yourself.

One of them slides up your back, threading into your hair as he tilts your head, forcing you to look at him. His gaze is heavy, burning into you, his pupils wide, dark, consuming.

“C’mon, sweet girl,” he murmurs, lips barely brushing against yours, teasing but not giving. “can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

Your body betrays you before your mouth can. Your hips shift instinctively, chasing friction, chasing him. His hold tightens in response, and the sharp inhale he takes tells you everything you need to know—he’s feeling it, too.

You swallow hard, embarrassment burning beneath the want. “I just—” Your voice is unsteady, barely a whisper. “I just need you.”

Matt hums in approval, his fingers flexing, pulling you flush against him. “Yeah?” His lips finally, finally press against yours, a slow, deep kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. “let me take care of you.”

His hands move with purpose, trailing lower, dipping beneath the hem of his shirt that swallows your frame, slipping past the last barrier between you.

His fingers push your panties to the side, barely brushing over your soaked cunt before pressing in deep, curling just right, sending a sharp pulse of pleasure straight through your core. His other hand grips your thigh, holding you still as he works you open, taking his time, watching the way you fall apart in his lap.

“Already so fuckin’ wet,” he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement. “Barely touched you.”

You whimper, your hips rolling against his hand, desperate for more. But before you can even reach for him, before you can beg, he groans low, frustrated.

His cock is straining against his sweats, the fabric damp where he’s leaking against it, and he exhales sharply before yanking them down just enough to free himself. The thick head of him presses against your entrance, rubbing against your clit for a moment before he lines up and sinks inside in one slow, unrelenting thrust.

The stretch has you gasping, nails digging into his shoulders, but he doesn’t give you a moment to process it before—

“Matt! Where the fuck are you kid?”

His teammate’s voice from the headset he threw onto the desk startles you, breaking through the haze.

Your breath catches, your body tensing, but Matt barely reacts. He exhales through his nose, visibly annoyed, then reaches over, picking up the headset. His other hand remains firm on your waist, keeping you completely still with his cock buried deep inside you.

He un-mutes.

“Right here,” he says, completely level, voice smooth, steady, like he’s not currently splitting you open. “What’re you yellin’ for, told you my girl was sleeping”

Your nails dig deeper into his skin, your hips shifting instinctively, desperate for movement, for relief, but he doesn’t budge.

You whimper softly, barely able to think past the need clawing through you, but Matt—cruel, infuriatingly hot Matt—just picks up his controller and returns to his game.

You try again, grinding against him, but all it earns you is a sharp squeeze to your thigh—a silent warning.

His mic mutes.

“What?” His voice is lazy, rough, thick with something darker. “You wanted it, didn’t you? So fuckin’ take it.”

Your breath stutters.

You have no choice—he’s not going to move, not going to help you.

So you do as you’re told.

You start slow, rolling your hips, testing, adjusting to the thick stretch of him. The burn in your thighs is immediate, but it’s nothing compared to the ache between your legs, the desperate need for friction, for more.

You whimper, pressing closer, your arms wrapped around his shoulders. “Matt,” you plead, voice shaking. “Please—please move—”

His mic unmutes.

“Matt, cover me dipshit—fuck—”

“That’s on you dude, I’m hitting my shots” he mutters, completely indifferent, but his fingers flex on your hips, betraying his composure.

It’s unbearable—the slow build of pleasure, the strain in your legs, the torture of knowing he could so easily take control but won’t.

Eventually, your body gives out.

Your thighs tremble violently, burning with exertion, and you falter, collapsing against him with a frustrated whimper.

His mic mutes.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His voice is soft now, teasing, taunting.

You shake your head, fingers clutching at his shirt. “Can’t,” you whisper. “Need you—please.”

His hand slides up your back, pressing you close, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“Yeah?” His breath is warm, thick with amusement. “You given up already?”

You nod frantically, too far gone for embarrassment. “Please, Matt—need you so bad.”

Matt groans, the sound low and wrecked, and that’s all it takes—his own patience snaps.

His hand flies to his headset, tearing it off. “Nate—I’m getting off.”

“What? We’re in the middle of—”

Matt doesn’t even wait for a full response before exiting the game entirely.

The screen goes dark for a moment before his PC background illuminates the room—a picture of you curled against his chest, tangled in his sheets, the soft glow casting light across his sharp features.

And then he moves.

The first thrust is brutal, knocking the breath from your lungs, and then he’s pounding into you, gripping your waist, pulling you down to meet each deep, punishing stroke.

“This what you need?” he growls against your ear, voice rough, breath ragged. 

You nod frantically, moaning his name, nails dragging down his back.

His grip on your waist is tight, almost bruising, holding you in place as he drives into you. The wet, obscene sounds of it fill the dimly lit room, mixing with the soft whimpers spilling from your lips, with the ragged, uneven breaths against your ear.

He doesn’t ease up, doesn’t slow down—just takes you, hips snapping up into yours with a brutal rhythm, pulling you down every time you start to lift yourself off of him, making sure you feel every single inch.

You sob against his shoulder, overwhelmed, body shaking, thighs trembling from the sheer force of it. Your hands fist the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

And maybe he is.

“You feel that?” His voice is a low growl against your ear, rough, breath ragged, laced with something dark, something possessive. “Gonna let me put my baby in you?”

You nod frantically, barely able to form words, your breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps. Your nails drag down his back, digging into the hard muscle beneath his shirt, and he groans, sharp and guttural, his pace stuttering for just a second before he recovers.

“Fuck—” His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you down harder, making you take him deeper. “Wish I knew—knew you wanted this sooner.”

You whimper, pressing your forehead against his, nodding weakly. “Wanna have your baby,” you breathe, barely coherent, voice small and wrecked. “Want you, Matt—please.”

His jaw clenches, his breath hitching slightly. His hips slow for a fraction of a second, like he’s processing it—your desperation, your need for him—before he lets out a sharp exhale and picks up the pace again, fucking into you with a newfound urgency.

And at this point, you don’t even care how loud you are, how utterly wrecked you sound. You just hold onto him, sobbing his name, letting him take exactly what he wants—letting him give you exactly what you need.

Matt’s grip tightens, his fingers digging into your hips with a bruising force, guiding you, controlling every desperate shift of your body. The force of his thrusts sends you bouncing in his lap, each deep stroke shoving you further into the mattress of his chair, forcing you to take him exactly how he wants.

Your legs are trembling, thighs burning from the earlier effort, but it doesn’t matter—not when he’s finally giving you what you begged for, not when every sharp snap of his hips has you spiraling closer to the edge.

“Shiiiittt,” he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, teeth scraping against your skin. “So fuckin’ tight—gripping me—”

You whimper in response, barely able to hold yourself up anymore. Your arms loop around his neck, fingers tangling into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, nails scratching lightly against his scalp as you cling to him.

Matt grunts, a sharp exhale against your skin, before he shifts slightly, planting his feet firmly against the floor.

Then he really starts to fuck you.

The rhythm turns relentless, deep and rough, his hips lifting off the chair to meet every downward roll of yours. The chair creaks beneath you, the obscene slap of skin-on-skin filling the space between your ragged breaths, between the filthy, low groans Matt presses into your throat.

“You takin’ it, sweet girl?” His voice is rough, nearly wrecked, but still teasing, still cruel. “This what you were cryin’ for?”

Your only response is a choked sob, your head falling back, eyes squeezing shut as heat builds low in your stomach, tightening, coiling, ready to snap.

Matt’s mouth is on you immediately—lips dragging down the column of your throat, teeth grazing over sensitive skin before he bites, sucking a mark into the dip of your shoulder, his own way of branding you, of making sure you feel him even after this.

The pressure is unbearable now, your body trembling, overstimulated and desperate, but you still want more.

“Matt,” you gasp, voice barely a whisper. “Close—gonna—”

He exhales sharply, his grip on you turning brutal. His hands move down, sliding to the backs of your thighs, spreading you open even more as he pounds into you, pushing you right to the edge, forcing you into it.

“Then come for me,” he mutters against your skin, his voice pure sin, pure need. “C’mon, baby—let me feel it.”

Your body locks up, the pressure finally snapping, pleasure crashing over you in waves so intense it nearly knocks you unconscious. You sob against his shoulder, every muscle in your body going taut as you clench around him, shaking, unraveling completely.

Matt curses beneath his breath, the sensation sending him straight into his own undoing. His thrusts turn frantic, messy, his breath hot against your skin.

Then you clarify it—

“Inside—please, Matt—inside,” you gasp, barely coherent, but completely, utterly serious.

His entire body tenses. He didn’t really think you’d actually let him, but he wasn’t complaining either.

His jaw clenches, his grip on you tightening to the point of pain, and then he slams deep one final time, burying himself inside you completely, holding you still as he fills you, groaning deep in his chest.

The only sound left is your heavy, uneven breaths, the soft hum of his PC still glowing behind him, the slight creak of the chair as he slumps forward, wrapping his arms around you.

His lips find your temple, soft, warm, pressing against your damp skin as he exhales, still catching his breath.

His voice is lower now, hoarse, rough, but serious.

“Y’know I mean it, right?” he murmurs against your skin. “Not just sayin’ shit, I will give you all the babies you want, sweetheart.”

authors note: spectacular gimme 14 of ‘em!

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@pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111

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[rafesangelita]

♡ deciding to take a ride on the ‘tunnel of love’ roller coaster at the annual valentine’s day fair, rafe happens to catch you before it starts, conveniently locking himself in next to you. annoyed, you tell yourself you’ll be out and away from the man once the ride is over but (un)luckily for you, it just so happens to break down, leaving you two stuck together until it’s fixed..

warnings: one sided enemies to lovers (reader is the one who can’t stand rafe lol), forced proximity, teasing, flirty banter, slight angst (just a teeny tiny bit, it’s literally almost nonexistent), light fluff

a/n: now presenting… ‘TUNNEL OF LOVE’ 🤍 my town just so happens to be having a valentine’s day fair.. maybe (hopefully) i’ll go!

link: VALENTINE’S DAY CELEBRATION ໒꒰ྀི｡- ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

wc: 1.4k

[7:57 PM] bestie ♡: it looks like kelce is going to take me out for v-day after all!! don’t wait for me, i’ll catch up soon, promise!

you had just bought an extra large funnel cake for you and your best friend to share when you read her text, your sugary sweet smile faltering as you took a seat at a nearby bench. “more for me, i guess..” you sighed, feeling a little bit silly at the fact that you sat here by yourself when everyone who passed you by was either in a group setting or hand in hand with someone who was most likely their significant other.

you picked at the fried goodness, not really feeling as festive as you were just two minutes ago. “yo, y/n!” you recognized the voice before you even looked up, your eyes immediately rolling as none other than rafe ‘insufferable daddy’s money’ cameron made his way over to you. ‘please let this be quick..’ you whispered under your breath, not sparing the man a single glance as he plopped down ridiculously close to you.

“what do you want, rafe?” he smiled when he heard his name roll off of your tongue, his muscular arm draping across your shoulders as his mouth dropped next to your ear. “can you at least act like you could tolerate me?” you scoffed, shrugging him off. “no, i can’t,” you finally looked at him, “because even that is too difficult to do.” he swallowed thickly, feeling slightly defeated before he went for the funnel cake that sat in your lap.

“i’m really not that bad, i’ll make you realize that soon.” rafe was also too confident and cocky for your liking— more reasons you could add to your seemingly never ending list as to why you think you two would never work out.

“i highly doubt that.” rafe was licking powdered sugar off of his fingers when you met his gaze again, your eyes flickering down to his tongue. the one thing that you couldn’t put on your list was that he wasn’t hot. anyone with eyes can tell you that rafe was insanely attractive, but of course, you’d never admit that to him out loud.. or so you thought. “you’re staring.” he smiled when he saw that your eyes stayed trained on his mouth, a smug expression taking over his features.

you blinked away, deciding you had enough chit-chat for one night. “in your dreams, ‘cameron.” rafe watched you get up from your seat, gladly taking the funnel cake you basically shoved into his hands. “why, thank you.” he took another piece, popping it into his mouth. you flashed him a fake smile before adjusting the strap of your crossbody purse. “i’ll see you around!” he called out, waving obnoxiously in your direction. “no you won’t!” you whispered to yourself, deciding to explore the fair a bit more.

little did you know conversation between you and rafe was far from over.

you walked around the fair grounds for almost fifteen more minutes before you had decided you were better off at home eating some greasy takeout and having a rom-com movie marathon in nothing but your comfy pj’s.

just as you were on your way to the exit, a flashing heart with the words ‘TUNNEL OF LOVE.. find your lover inside!’ caught your attention. deciding you’d at least inquire about it, you walked up to the ride operator and asked away. “excuse me! hi, i was just wondering what does the whole ‘find your lover inside!’ thing mean?” the woman lit up as if she had been dying to answer this question.

“so basically there’s another roller coaster coming from the other side, and once you two meet inside, the ride will stop for two minutes before coming back out to the respective entrances.” she explained. “so it’s like speed dating?” you smiled, the idea enthralling you. “yeah, that’s exactly it!” she nodded. you weighed out your options and decided a little excitement wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“i’m suprised you don’t have a line, how much is it to get on?” you took your wallet out of your purse as she replied. “if you have a full-access wristband it’s free, but if not then it’ll be five dollars exactly.” you handed over the small bill, smiling to yourself as she let you through the metal gate. “it looks like two people can fit in here—” just as you stepped in, rafe came running from the opposite direction.

“stop the ride!” he shouted, his chest rising and falling as he bent over to catch his breath. you blinked. “it’s not even on, you drama queen.” taking a seat, you were about to pull the metal bar over your lap before he shouted again. “i’ll give you fifty bucks if you let me get on with her!” you crossed your arms over your chest, not expecting the ride operator to actually let him in. “seriously?!” you gasped when he walked through, flashing you a wink.

“sorry!” she pushed the guardrail over you and rafe until it locked in place before starting the ride. “this will all be over in two minutes.” you glared at him, trying to scoot as many centimeters away from him as you could. “that’s fine with me.” he shrugged. he leaned back in the cart, red and pink flashing lights illuminating the space in which you two rolled into slowly.

rafe kept his eyes on you, watching as you avoided his gaze. “why don’t you like me? serious question..” you sighed, finally giving him your full undivided attention. you opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. “what?” you acted like you didn’t hear him the first time, wracking your brain for any kind of answer. he smiled teasingly, pointing a finger at you. “i asked you why you don’t like me and you can’t even answer me!” you waved him off, facing the other way to hide the smile on your lips.

truthfully, you didn’t really know who rafe was. like just by himself as an individual. you knew that his friends were all assholes though, including the one who your best friend was willing to drop everything for. “i hate your friends,” you started, “and you are who you keep company with, sooo..” rafe cleared his throat as the roller coaster came to a stop. the inside of the ‘love tunnel’ was lit up with baby cherubs along the walls, red hearts and fairy lights adorning the interior.

“me and my friends are very different from each other.. i think you’d be surprised.” you hummed, adjusting the pendant on your necklace. “maybe..” the other roller coaster cart strolled in from the other side, the seats empty. “i guess it’s a good thing that i tagged along, since you would’ve been all by yourself if i didn’t.”

you glanced over at him, his blue eyes standing out in the pinkish lighting. “..yeah, i guess.” rafe’s head shot up as soon as the words left your mouth. “you really think so?” he scooted closer, the action making you laugh. “don’t push it.” you warned him, in which he held his hands up defensively. “okay, okay!” rafe had this smitten look on his face as if making you smile was his life’s greatest achievement.

“so you told me why you didn’t like me, which is fair, but i want a real chance at proving you wrong. can you at least give me that?” rafe hesitantly rested a hand on your knee, the hopeful look in his eyes making your heart melt into a soft puddle of mush. “hmm..” you pretended to think, the anticipation making rafe’s leg bounce. “okay. only under one condition though..” rafe nodded frantically.

“anything.”

“tell me why you like me so much when i avoid you like the plague, and never seemingly look in your direction.. like ever.” the man next to you snorted. “you want me to go down my full list? ‘cause we’ll be sitting here all night—” just then, the ride operator’s voice boomed through the intercom speakers from inside the tunnel. “hi, i’m so sorry for the inconvenience, but we’re having some technical difficulties and my electrician guy says it’ll be at least an hour or two before you could leave. i promise to issue a full refund once you two are off.”

you and rafe looked at each other half concerned and half amused. “..so, you were saying?”

[ere-the-sun-rises]

God, I love the shitshow that is The Clone Wars. We will never know better television. Here's some other highlights:

Alien Nazi re-invents bioterrorism (Blue Shadow Wirus)

Obi-Wan literally says "That's terrorism, Anakin" in a Jedi Council meeting

Barriss and Ahsoka are trapped underground, about to die in a factory explosion, and Luminara's response is "It be like that sometimes"

Obi-Wan and Quinlan Vos break into the house of Jabba's mother to find out where his uncle went

A deserter clone fucks hard enough to get himself a hot Twi'lek wife

Child!Boba Fett crashes an entire star cruiser to kill Mace Windu. Literally only Mace and Anakin survive the crash.

Obi-Wan flirts his way through every conversation he has with an enemy, but only Ventress flirts back

Rex is forced to awkwardly ward off Obi-Wan while Anakin talks to his totally secret wife

Anakin and Ahsoka throw Rex off multiple buildings with the Force and no warning

A clone named Fives uncovers the whole Sith conspiracy because his friend had a seizure and evades capture by blending in because he's LITERALLY A CLONE

Fives and Palpatine have a "You're totally right, but no one will ever believe you" moment, after which Fives punches him in the face

A clone named Cody punches Grievous in the face

Cody also routinely roundhouse kicks droids' heads off

Darth Maul only respects Ahsoka

Despite yelling at Obi-Wan about use of violence, his ex Satine hangs out with Padme - notable people-murderer - as she kills smugglers with no issues. Girl's day out on the town

R2-D2 susses out a double-agent astromech and will not rest until he is The Last One Remaining

On a mission with Jar Jar, a clone commander figures out how to weaponize his incompetence and breaks Obi-Wan and Anakin out of Hondo's hideout

"Spice" is totally space-cocaine. Hondo was going to ransom Obi-Wan and Anakin for two tons of spice.

Everyone totally knows Anakin and Padme are married but maintain the polite fiction

Bly spends every second he's on screen with Aayla Secura doing his best to Look Respectfully

Rex tricks his way into a droid-occupied base by holding up a severed droid head to the camera and saying "Roger Roger". In his regular accent. 0 effort, Nat 20 roll.

Turns out Obi-Wan and Cody are the equivalent of 5-star generals and run an entire systems army by themselves (there are 10 in total). They spend most of their time saving Anakin's ass.

Two clones get adopted by a Twi'lek girl who doesn't even speak their language.

Yoda will stand/sit on the clones

Ahsoka gets her lightsaber stolen and gets a retiree to help her bc she doesn't want to tell Anakin he was right

Rex calls Anakin by his given name exactly once and Anakin is so thrown off by this he mounts a rescue immediately

Obi-Wan beats the shit out of people with his bare hands more than once.

Cody and Rex pet R2-D2.

The Umbara Arc is about team-killing. I'm making it sound much funnier than it is.

In the first three seasons, Obi-Wan's skirt swishes around his legs.

The clones have slurs for the droids that the Jedi also use

Anakin and Padme are trapped aboard an enemy ship and almost get shot multiple times bc they're too busy making out

Obi-Wan fakes his own death, steals the identity and appearence of his would-be-assassin, then spends the rest of his time avoiding death by Anakin or annoying Cad Bane

Obi-Wan and Anakin banter as zombie cicadas almost put a mind-control worm up Luminara's nose

Kit Fisto watches his Padawan get murked and just backflips out of there (like, he physically backflips away then fucks right off)

And lastly, since it cannot be emphasized enough,

R2-D2 kills A LOT of people, and set a few more on fire

stuff they actually let happen on Star Wars: The Clone Wars

Godzilla tried to eat Chancellor Palpatine

Darth Maul came back from the dead as a crime boss with robot legs and had a giant angry brother named Savage

Jabba the Hutt’s uncle was an offensive gay stereotype

Palpatine had a gigantic forehead for literally no reason

Zombie episode

They named a Jedi “I’m Gonna Die” and then killed him

Some senator had a sex robot

All the Twi’leks had French accents

Ahsoka got hunted for sport

Anakin had to do elaborate BDSM roleplay with an evil cat lady

Dooku was almost murdered by the Macbeth witches

Hondo Ohnaka

Yoda made contact with Qui-Gon Jinn’s ghost but the other Jedi just thought he had dementia

0.07 seconds after leaving the Jedi Order, Ahsoka crashed her motorcycle, got a girlfriend, and ended up smuggling drugs for the mob

Anakin and Obi-Wan met the physical incarnations of the Dark and Light Sides of the Force and they looked like a goth drama queen and his cottagecore sister and both of them were furries

Ahsoka got bit by an evil rat which made her evil for awhile

Jar Jar killed a guy

[kamospeach]

told you i like gentle giants so you softened up .ᐟ

plot: ceo!sukuna and the woman he was forced to marry finally learning to get along.

content warning: none at all. it's not 18+ but if i make a fic it will be.

peachy's yap: i wanna make this into a fic but im not 100% sure yet, lmk ! no smut just a small fluff to test out the waters. one last one shot coming until i go on a lil break.

this wasn't what you wanted at all. ever since you were a little girl you planned to get married to a caring man. years later give birth to a love child hold he or she in your arms as you and your loving husband smiled at one another.

that dream was gone now and here you were a year after your wedding. terrified to even knock on the door of his study knowing his temper was off the wall at the moment. when you were cooped up in your hobby room you could hear him barking orders. while you sat in silence writing novel after novel he forbade you to publish.

this was your everyday, wake up alone, eat alone, write alone, shower alone, watch movies alone, and even go to sleep alone. he was in his study night and day until his hefty body slipped into your shared bed waking you at 2am. he didn't bother to apologize he just turned away going to sleep himself. and yet you found yourself wanting to be close to sukuna.

you sighed already knowing the conversation you both were bound to have today... just like every month for the last year. you were given to him for your writing and negotiating skills. his father the previous boss offered to pay your father millions to suspend the contract at your job for you to work for them. all for money. you raised your hand knocing on the wretched door.

you and sukuna moved into this house 6 months ago and it felt like you'd been locked away in a tower. although sukuna never listened to your ideas or let you have your way about anything he left the house details to you. he stood back as you worked with the sketchy architect who purposely looked down your blouse (his words).

he let you pick out the number of rooms, and bathrooms. the ceiling height, the shape of the pool, even how many patio chairs you wanted. he let you decorate the house pick the colors, even would let you throw splashes of pink and purple where ever you pleased. but you never did it, you didn't want to do it if not with sukuna.

but to sukuna none of this mattered because his work was more important. in his words he said 'i'll let you deal with less important matters. at least im positive you won't fuck that up.' did that statement hurt? hell yeah but even then you still wanted to be close to him.

"s...sukuna?" you stuttered waiting to hear his gruff voice.

"get in here." he said sternly and you pushed the heavy doors open, struggling at the weight. once you pushed in you stood by the door hands behind your back fingers laced. "sit." he said pointing to the chair in front of his desk and you scurry not wanting to anger him.

"i'm sorry i didn't come sooner i was writing and i had a idea i couldn't lose." you plead his eyes never left yours. he face expression neither annoyed nor pleased.

"why must you continue writing, when you have a duty to fulfill here." he grumbled and you looked down at your thumbs.

"sukuna you wont let me go with you to negotiate that's all m'good for." you say and he scoffs at your excuse.

"you are here to write contracts and negotiate deals you have not done any of that over the last year!" he said his voice raising, by no means were you a push over. scared of this big, brolic, hunk definitely but one thing you'll never be is a punk.

"you have yet to assign me any work. i know what you'll say 'you should come ask me if there's anything to do' but you are my boss. you instruct i follow, i refuse to do anything for you if you can not request it on your own." your reply was calm, you didn't want to anger him further.

"i don't want to overwhelm you," he sighs. his strict facade dropping as he handed you papers and you hum. looking down at the papers it was full of stats and numbers that made your head spin. "this is everyday work for me, i need your help but i must figure it out alone."

"the numbers are a bit crazy but it's not much to find a way to make a deal that'll pretty up the numbers." you tell him and he nods.

"how?" he asked and you looked up at him. this was the first time sukuna had asked for your help. you were shocked that he even let you know that he needed help.

"i mean your the statistics man. once you work out the numbers we can talk negotiating." you tell him with a smile hoping the sly compliment of him being good with numbers didn't slip past him. his red eyes looked up at you through his thick lashes. the corner of his lips tugging upwards as if he wanted to smile and couldn't.

this day was the first day you sat next to sukuna behind his desk. your knees touched and even that amount of contact was enough for you. you helped him clean up his desk and he didn't object he just said 'make sure you put them where i tell you'. and you did picking up the papers on his desk and organizing them for him. placing them in different stacks based off who and what they were from.

little did you know sukuna admired your every move. he watched how you walked around his office complaining about how dull it was. how your curls bounced with every step you took. he watched you search up paint colors and decor for his office. not once did this distract him, he either hummed in agreement or disagreement as he worked on the numbers.

even days later the connection between sukuna and you began to grow. he listened to your opinions and even stepped out of his office during the day. he came to your writing room to sit and drink coffee with you at 3am when you felt like you had a good idea. he even showed you the room you called the 'junk room' that was quite literally filled with sukuna's junk. he pulled out an electric guitar bragging about how it was signed by one of the best.

he tells you the name as you face scrunches up in confusion never hearing of this man ever. but even your disinterest in that didn't deter his sheer audacity and gall. he called you a degenerate and said you were a bug under a rock. you replied with 'more like a boulder' as you looked him up and down judgingly.

this comment made sukuna laugh, yes actually laugh. from that day you never held in a joke, letting anything on your mind loose. sometimes sukuna would look at you as if you said the stupidest shit on earth. most times he'd shake his head with an endearing smile but 2 times out of 10 he'd laugh.

day after day the more time you spent with sukuna the more you were pulled out of the depression. you watched movies of families with a smile even thinking about having a child with that demon.

in return sukuna became more comfortable approaching you. initially he was scared to anger you or say something that would hurt your feelings. heading his father's warning 'don't talk to her too much. you know how you are, you'll hurt her feelings.' so he listened avoided starting conversation, leaving the bed before you woke up and coming in after you fell asleep. ate in his office and never ever entered your writing room.

that day you came in and told him he was your boss changed his brain chemistry. his father was wrong, he wouldn't hurt your feelings because you wanted him to act like your boss. you could dish it out and take it. that day was when sukuna thought to himself 'i could really get used to this'.

that's why after a month of the two of finally getting along sukuna instructed you to meet him at the dining table. dining table was a stretch as it only had 2 chairs. as you waited for him assuming it was about work you were shocked for sukuna to slam down your houses floorplan.

"it's about time we made this house into a home don't ya think?" he asked looking at you and you smiled. and the two of you sat there all night you sipping on a shirley temple and he drank whiskey. he promised he'd make you cocktails from now on since you found out he was a bartender for all of 3 months.

you planned and brainstormed until the next morning. you were leaned on the table drool coming out of your mouth. sukuna smiled at how comfortable you had became around him. he lifted you and carried you up the stairs. that was the first day sukuna felt like he was really a husband. that day was when sukuna swore to himself that he would be a husband.

[chimerafeathers]

the concept of intentional boredom/tedium in video games is very much a "your mileage may vary" kind of thing and i go back and forth about it in different situations. where does it work? where does it feel earned/worth the mental toll? why am i gonna play a game that is trying to make me miserable?

i can understand this not being the case for everyone (ymmv, after all) but for ISaT i was so fucking fully on board with the repetitive tedium of it all. rubbing my grubby little hands together and going yesssss, yesssssss, make my immersive gameplay experience directly emulate the exact frustrations and anxieties and mind-numbing breakdowns of the player character. remind me, at every turn, the toll this would take on the person living it. make me live their inner monologue before it's ever verbalized on screen.

how strong you feel, compared to the party you're inevitably leaving behind, how weak they seem now. how annoying it is to cut down these same enemies again and again, always pointlessly getting in your way (oh, how convenient that Siffrin feels the same way so intensely that you can get an item that lets him scare them off by sheer force of will before they attack you!). since when was the King's battle--so terrifying, so impossible before--so easy? can't this go faster? you've heard this all before.

let me skip ahead, loop around, treat my character my body Siffrin as disposable, take the fast and easy way to reach the next goal when you're on the verge of an exciting breakthrough, this loop doesn't matter anyway. but ohh, this next loop might be The One, better do this one right and follow the script to perfection. make all the jokes and say all the right things to get the lovely bonding dialogue so you can carry the Best Version of Everyone through to the end. that'll give you the Good Ending, right? can't hurt to try, right? you don't really believe it but this time will fix everything, right?

how generous and wonderful to have so many shortcuts at hand! dissociating zoning out to skip repetitive dialogue, splitting your head open on a rock slipping on a banana peel in the town to loop right to the floor you need, suuuuurely all of this stuff is purely for the Player's Convenience and won't have any psychological impact on our dear protagonist such that it gets slammed back into the player's face as a stomach-dropping reminder that someone's moment-to-moment experience in this time loop still matters, still carries over, still gets riddled with scars even if they can't be seen!

i've played & watched enough games that trivialize/hand-wave game mechanics that it's pretty easy to detach myself from the minutiae of video game decision-making. "this input gets the Good Response" -> "i will continue doing this input." "this option will be more efficient" -> "might as well save some time then." but this game would not let me stop thinking about consequence.

picking Siffrin's favorite food makes them happy! :) it's also the option that makes Bonnie the happiest! yay! -> i keep picking their favorite food -> Siffrin gradually grows sick of something that once brought him joy -> oh. right. that...makes sense, huh.

okay i asked the King what i needed, mann there won't be any tears after the fight is over so i'll have to do the whole ending scene again and that takes a while and i reeeeally wanna talk to Loop, maybe i'll just lose on purpose this time -> OH. RIGHT. THIS IS MAYBE THE MOST PAINFUL WAY FOR SIFFRIN TO DIE BOTH PHYSICALLY AND EMOTIONALLY HUH. -> never gonna do that again actually!!!!! the ending isn't that long!!!!

banana peel time! we've got places to be and mysteries to solve! -> (you're a living comedy sketch.) (you wonder if you'll ever be able to smell bananas again without wanting to vomit.) -> i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry

it's always cute to see Isabeau's reactions! pick the options that make him blush :3 -> (disgusting. manipulative. it's no wonder he thinks he likes you, you made him feel that way.) -> i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry siffrin NO he liked you before any of this happened please don't think of yourself that way--

maybe it won't hit the same for every player (what game can expect to do that?) but holy fuck it hit for me. the way the mechanics let you fall into familiar gamey rhythms but constantly, constantly remind you that this is Siffrin's life you're playing with. the way you end up perfectly in step in the worst ways. muscle memory and habit built up so well that you both stumble when something changes. devastating and delicious

[bradleysass]

Harry Potter - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 801

Harry Potter prided himself on being a decent student. He wasn’t Hermione-level brilliant, but he did well enough. He could strategize in Quidditch, hold his own in a duel, and solve riddles in life-or-death situations. But when it came to people—understanding what they wanted, what they felt—he was utterly useless.

And right now, the person most confusing him was Draco Malfoy.

Draco had been relentless since the start of term. Not in the usual way—not with taunts about his parents or snide remarks about his Quidditch skills. No, lately, Draco had been... weird. He called Harry insufferable but stood just a little too close when he said it. He sneered at Harry’s hair but reached out as if he wanted to touch it before catching himself. And then there was the way he lingered, as if waiting for something Harry didn’t understand.

Was Draco flirting with him? Or did he just enjoy tormenting Harry in a new, confusing way?

Harry had no idea. And there was no one worse to ask for advice than his dads.

Regulus Black and James Potter were, by all accounts, a miracle. A miracle because they should have never worked, and yet, somehow, they did. They had a ridiculous love story—one Harry had grown up hearing in bits and pieces. James, with his stupidly big heart and inability to let things go. Regulus, with his sharp words and sharp eyes, always pretending he didn’t care while caring too much. If opposites attracted, then they were a bloody gravitational force.

At dinner that night, as Harry pushed food around his plate, James and Regulus carried on one of their usual conversations—if they could even be called that.

James, grinning as he stole a piece of bread from Regulus’ plate: “Just admit you think I’m the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Regulus, not looking up from his book: “You’re the most exhausting man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

James, smirking: “Still means you like looking at me.”

Regulus, deadpan: “Unfortunately.”

Harry had grown up seeing their dynamic. He had witnessed the way Regulus softened only for James, the way James never let Regulus slip into his worst habits of self-isolation. It was obvious to everyone that they were in love.

But Harry wasn’t them. He didn’t understand how two people who seemed to drive each other mad could also love each other. Which brought him back to Malfoy.

“Are you two always like this?” Harry asked, interrupting whatever smug retort James had lined up next.

Regulus glanced at him over the rim of his teacup. “Like what?”

Harry gestured vaguely between them. “Like this. The constant back and forth.”

James grinned. “It’s part of our charm.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “More like your punishment.”

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. “How did you—when you first—how did you know you liked each other? Like, actually liked each other?”

James’ eyebrows shot up, and Regulus blinked. A rare moment of being caught off guard.

“Well,” James said slowly, “I’d been in love with your dad since I was seventeen, so—”

“I tolerated him first,” Regulus cut in smoothly. “And then, when he refused to leave me alone, I figured it was either murder or love.”

James beamed. “See? Romantic.”

Harry groaned. “That’s not helpful.”

Regulus finally set his book down, watching Harry with that unnerving ability to see too much. “Why are you asking?”

Harry hesitated. “There’s someone. And I—” He exhaled sharply. “I can’t tell if he likes me or just enjoys annoying me.”

James lit up. “Wait. Likes likes you?”

Regulus hummed in thought. “Ah. Malfoy.”

Harry choked. “What—how—?”

James spun in his chair, practically vibrating with excitement. “It’s Malfoy?! I knew it! I knew there was something there!”

Regulus, unbothered, simply sipped his tea. “It’s obvious.”

“No, it’s not obvious!” Harry exclaimed. “That’s the whole point! I can’t tell if he’s—” He waved his hands around, struggling for words. “If he’s flirting or if he just hates me in a really weird way!”

James turned to Regulus with a huge grin. “Ah, to be young and oblivious.”

Regulus shot him a look. “You were never oblivious. Just stubborn.”

Harry slumped back in his chair, exhausted before this conversation had even properly started. “So? What do I do?”

Regulus set his cup down with a quiet clink. “Ask yourself this: If Malfoy weren’t Malfoy, if he were just some nameless person acting the way he does, would you already have your answer?”

Harry opened his mouth—then promptly shut it.

James, of course, still had to get the last word in. “Or, you know, just kiss him and see what happens.”

Regulus sighed.

Harry banged his head against the table.

This was not going to be easy.

[fandomfablesunleashed]

Kitten's Valentine

Sylus x reader (can be MC, but doesn't have to be, but is a Hunter)

Summary: Somehow, you were set to spend Valentine’s Day with Sylus.

Words: 1k

Notes: For the Valentine’s Week event. This is my first time posting for LADS, but I recently started playing and quickly got hooked.

English is not my first language

Masterlist

You couldn't believe it. Somehow, you were supposed to spend Valentine’s Day with Sylus.

It had started with a simple text:

“Any plans on Friday, sweetie?”

“I have work in the morning.”

“And in the evening?”

“Nothing, why?”

“Great. I'll see you then, kitten”

That should have been your first warning.

When you returned to your apartment on that day, the sight that greeted you was… absurd. The door barely closed behind you when your eyes fell on the mountain of packages stacked neatly in your living room. They were everywhere—colorful, extravagant, and so over the top. There were flowers, too, blooming in full force as if they were made to fit some grand, romantic scene straight out of a movie.

You walked closer, your heart sinking as you began to open the boxes. Inside, you found clothes that were beyond your wildest dreams—silk, velvet, and lace, all in shades that would flatter you perfectly. Jewelry that sparkled just a bit too brightly, shoes that you could only dream about.

Nestled among them was a single card:

“Pick whatever you like the most, kitten.”

You scoffed. The whole thing was over the top, but what grated at you the most wasn’t the lavish gifts, but the fact that Sylus had chosen things you actually liked. Not only did they reflect your taste, but they seemed… personal.

You sifted through the mountain of luxurious clothing and selected an outfit that, for all its extravagance, did seem to suit you best. With a huff, you slipped it on, the fabric smooth and unfamiliar against your skin. You didn’t want to admit it, but you looked damn good.

Just as you were about to leave, your watch went off—Wanderers. You couldn’t ignore it. A flare up, something out of the ordinary. You'd have to investigate.

You grabbed your jacket and bolted toward the door, but before you could even step into the hallway, your phone buzzed. You paused, irritated, and glanced at the message. It was from Sylus.

“Don’t get blood on your outfit, we have reservations at seven.”

You froze. How did he know?

Your heart skipped a beat, part of you irritated, the other part—unreasonably—flattered. He always seemed to be one step ahead of you. Frustrated, you pushed the thought away. No time for distractions. There was work to do.

You rounded the corner, ready to face the threat head-on, but instead, you came face to face with a sight you didn’t expect.

Sylus.

Leaning casually against the alley wall, his arms crossed, his signature smirk dancing at the edges of his lips.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Making sure you're not late for our date, kitten.” he replied, that infuriatingly smooth tone of his laced with a hint of amusement.

Annoying. Infuriating. Predictable.

Still, there was no time to argue. You both knew what came next. The fight was swift and efficient. You barely needed to exchange words, your movements synchronized, like two people who’d done this far too many times together. The Wanderer didn’t stand a chance.

When the creature finally crumpled to the ground, defeated, Sylus turned to you with that same smirk, as if nothing unusual had happened.

“Excellent. Now we can focus on ourselves. Shall we, sweetie?”

You tried to hold back a sigh, but it escaped anyway. He was impossible.

The ride was fast, the city lights flashing by in a blur, a streak of neon and streetlamps blending together like some surreal dream. You barely had time to collect your thoughts before the car came to a halt. When you stepped out and saw the restaurant, you stopped dead in your tracks.

It was empty. Entirely. Not a single soul in sight, save for the staff standing by, waiting for your arrival.

“Did you rent the entire place?” you asked, one eyebrow arching in disbelief.

Sylus smiled that signature, knowing smile, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “I wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”

You felt your annoyance flare just slightly, though the sight of the empty restaurant was… well, it was impressive, if not a little intimidating. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Maybe so,” he said, leaning in just a bit closer, his tone turning playful. “But I could. Is that a problem, kitten?”

You sighed, the sharpness in your breath betraying the fact that you were undeniably touched by the gesture, despite your best efforts to stay aloof. “No,” you muttered, conceding.

“Then relax,” he said, his voice softening just enough to disarm you.

And eventually, you did.

Dinner was… nice. Unnervingly nice. It was hard not to, with the soft glow of candles on the table, the intimate, quiet atmosphere. His usual teasing remarks were still there, of course—his words light, but there was an undeniable tenderness behind them that kept you on edge. 

The meal came to a natural end, and Sylus escorted you back to your apartment with the same effortless charm he always had.

“Well, kitten, thank you for a lovely night.”

For a brief moment, you just stood there, unsure of how to respond. But then—something reckless, something you hadn’t expected, took over. Without thinking, you leaned in.

The soft brush of your lips against his was all it took for Sylus to freeze, the familiar confidence slipping for just a second. For once, Sylus seemed caught off guard, his breath hitching before he kissed you back—slow, deliberate, as if he couldn’t believe this moment was real.

When you pulled away, your pulse racing, he looked at you with pure admiration. 

“Does that mean you enjoyed yourself, sweetie?”

You rolled your eyes.

“As if you don’t know the answer.”

[fourthavecafe]

one where sakuna has no idea what stretch marks are and reader has done and they’re on tickle spots

You huffed, tugging your shirt off and tossing it onto the bed. Sukuna sat nearby, legs spread in his usual dominant sprawl, watching you with his usual lazy expression.

His presence alone made the air thick with tension but you were too caught up in your own frustration to care.

Your fingers pinched at the skin on your hip as you let out a dramatic sigh. "Ugh. I hate these stupid stretch marks."

Sukuna blinked. "What?"

You frowned, twisting to get a better look at yourself in the mirror. "These lines. They're all over my thighs, hips and belly,look !” You gestured wildly, your voice rising with exasperation. "They're barely visible but I know they're there,It's so annoying."

Sukuna didn't respond. Not verbally, at least.

Instead, he stared at you, unmoving, his sharp gaze darkening with something unreadable.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

His jaw tightened. "You're an idiot."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

Before you could protest further, Sukuna grabbed your waist and yanked you onto his lap, making you yelp. His large hands easily engulfed your hips as he pulled you closer, his expression carved into something dangerously serious.

"You whine too much over nonsense” he muttered, his claws dragging over your skin, tracing the faint lines you had just been complaining about.

You shivered at the sensation, squirming slightly. "It's not nonsense! They're ugly!"

Sukuna let out a low growl, squeezing your thigh almost possessively. "They are marks,that's all. Your body changes so what?" He leaned in, scrutinizing the stretch marks with narrowed eyes. "I don't even understand what you're crying about."

His fingers tightened slightly around your hip, testing the elasticity of your skin. His claws ghosted along the sensitive area and before you could stop it, a giggle slipped past your lips.

Sukuna's eyes snapped to yours.

You stiffened.

A slow, dangerous smirk stretched across his face.

"Oh?" His fingers flexed against your lower belly, his curiosity shifting into something much more devious. "What was that?"

Your breath hitched. "W-Wait, hold on-"

Too late.

Sukuna wasted no time in launching his attack. His claws skittered across your hips, dipping into the curves of your waist before trailing to your thighs. You shrieked, twisting in his grasp as laughter bubbled out of you uncontrollably.

"AH! Sukuna—!"

"Now this" he rumbled, enjoying the way you trembled under his touch "this is much better than all that whining."

He dug his fingers into the flesh of your lower belly, drawing another peal of laughter from you. You squirmed helplessly in his lap, gasping between giggles but Sukuna's grip was firm unyielding.

"Stop! Hahaha! | c-can't—!"

His smirk widened. "Then stop being stupid."

He kneaded at your hips, his claws grazing every sensitive spot he could find. You were breathless, barely able to think through the ticklish onslaught. But through the haze of your laughter, you caught the way he was watching you not just amused but satistied.

The way your pout had melted into giggles.

The way your body shook-not in frustration, but in something much sweeter.

Sukuna hummed, finally slowing his assault.

He dragged a hand up to cup your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed against your cheek, his voice softer, but still rough.

"You're lucky I like you" he muttered. "Even when you're being an idiot."

You pouted-only for him to dig his fingers into your side one last time, making you squeal.

"Okay, okay! I get it!" you gasped between lingering giggles, swatting at his hands.

"Truce!"

Sukuna chuckled darkly, pressing a quick bite against your shoulder before settling back. His grip on you remained firm, as if he had no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

"Good" he said, smirking against your skin.

"Now shut up about your so-called 'ugly marks' before I decide to tickle you until morning."

[chenlezip]

haechan, the notebook ♡

⤷ summary : haechan, a poor man, falls in love with y/n who comes from wealth. they are forced to keep passion for each other aside due to societal pressure and a difference in the social stature of their families.

warning : smut, bit of angst, mentions of arguing - i uh.. don't know what else to add. annas note : the fourth of the movie series i'm doing for the dreamies !! and we have the notebook which healed and hurt me (i am currently rewatching it while writing and i'm sobbing while writing this) .

prev | next | masterlist

haechan was infatuated with you ever since he first saw you at the carnival. he had to go after you, it was love at first sight. he couldn't let you go.. he had to have you. he had begged you for a date and you reluctantly agreed. your friends had dragged you and him to go see a movie, they just ended up making out and you both decided to walk home afterward.

after that day, you both got closer and spent nearly everyday together. grabbing ice cream, riding the bike down the road while you're sat on the front, going to the movies, meeting his father and gifting him a beautiful painting. you also went to the beach with him and spent a nice day bathing around and swimming in the ocean together, sharing loving kisses and soft touches between one another.. at the lake with your friends, him teasing you because you were too scared to swing into the water. "get in the water baby. baby.. would you get in?" he smiled, speaking to you with that oh so soft loving tone of voice he only used with you.

despite all that - you two were different, arguing nearly all the time but you both were so in love it didn't matter.

dinner with your parents seemed to go smoothly, you did wait until night to escape the house and spend some time with haechan. he brought you to an empty house, teaching you about how old it is.. full of cobwebs, how he wants to buy it one day and redecorate everything in it. "i want a white house with blue shutters.. and a room overlooking the river so i can paint." "anything else?" the male looked at you as you walked toward him, grinning.

"yes. i want a big old porch that wraps around the entire house. we can drink tea.. and watch the sun go down." "okay." "you promise? you ask with puppy eyes and of course he can't help but melt at the look on your face. "mm-hmm, i promise." he speaks quietly.

after a couple minutes of investigating the house, haechan left soft kisses trailing down your neck as you sat against the piano that was left. you both undressed, you felt nervous in front of him as you kneeled down in front of him, he joined you. you both shared soft kisses, "hae.. i know i said i wanted you to make love to me but i think you..." "yeah?" haechan asked as he looked at you, pulling apart enough to look at you. "you're gonna have to talk me through this." you pant out.

"did i hurt you?" "no no.. i'm just having a lot of thoughts.. like what are you thinking about right now? did you know this was gonna happen when you brought me here? uh- i'm talking too much.. mums the word."

haechan nodded, "okay, you alright though?" he whispers before you speak again, "i just don't understand how you're so quiet like.. you don't have one thought?" you ask. "i'm going crazy over here but no, with you, everything's fine. you don't have a care in the world?"

you sat up as you stared at him, he seemed.. annoyed. you apologise, "i wanted this to be perfect but i can't shut up." "i love you, did you know that?" tears well up in your eyes as you nod, "i love you too."

"you don't have to do this if you don't want to." but you both got interrupted by one of your friends, jeno, who let both of you know that your parents had called the cops to look for you seeming as it was 2am..

but after that day - after haechan heard your parents shouting that he's trash and not suitable for you, things between you both suffered.. he left you and you were going back home.

time skip a couple years after everything had gone down and you had visited the old house where you and haechan had went that time in summer a long time ago. he walked outside, a drink in hand as he stared at you, visibly shocked. he had grown and become more attractive - floppy hair, a little facial hair and more tanned. he had built the house you talked to him about.. white, blue shutters, a big porch.

"hello.. i uh, saw your photo in the papers. the one with you and the house.. i just wanted to see if you were okay." "do you wanna come in?"

you got accustomed to each other again - it felt familiar. spending time in a boat again, surrounded by swans, feeding them and talking about life.. how different the two of you are. "you did everything.. the house. it's beautiful what you did." "i promised you i would."

you both got out of the boat after he pulled it back up from the river. you couldn't help but run over to him and ask why he hadn't written to you. you had waited over 7 years. "now it's too late!" you shout, the heavy downpour making it hard to hear your normal speaking voice.

"i wrote you 365 letters. i wrote you everyday for a year."

"you wrote me!?" "yes! it wasn't over. it still isn't over."

haechan pulled you into a harsh kiss, all those pent up feelings for you coming back into it. you couldn't help yourself - you melted into it as he picked you up and held you against him tightly. he takes you inside the house, still holding you against him and kissing you. you couldn't help yourself, undressing him and yourself as he hurriedly took you upstairs to his bedroom. he pinned you against the bed, soft whimpers leaving your lips.

you both shared an intimate moment together, your moans and pants coming out laboured as he fucked you gently, passionately, the way he wanted to all those years ago. "lets do it again." you beg as you climb on top of him and lower yourself onto him.

your mum had visited and gave you the letters she had hidden from you. you sat down beside haechan in the porch. "so.. what are you going to do, y/n?" "i don't know.."

"we're back to that? are we back there? what about the past couple of days? they happened, you know!" haechan sat up a bit, leaning his arms on his thighs. "i know they happened and they were wonderful, but they were also very irresponsible! i have a fiance!"

haechan gets up from the chair, running a hand through his hair as he kicks it back away from him. "so you make love to me.. and then you go back to your husband!?!" he sounds so destroyed. "was that your plan!?"

you both get into a heated argument, arms flailing. "you're bored and you know it!" "you son of a bitch.." you shout as you walk back to your car. "look at us - we're already fighting!"

"thats what we do! we fight! you tell me when i'm being an arrogant son of a bitch and i tell you when you're being a pain in the ass - which you are.. 99% of the time! i'm not afraid to hurt your feelings."

he slams your car door shut and leans against it, you walk over and groan, "so what?"

"so what? it's not going to be easy, it's going to be really hard and we're going to have to work at this every single day but i want to that because i want you. i want all of you, forever, you and me. everyday." he has tears in his eyes and you can't help but break into a sob.

he continues, having a go at you and trying to make you decide who you're going to choose. "what do you want?" "it's not that simple-" " god damn it - what do you want?" he strains out.

you tell him you have to go. he walks away from your car and you immediately get in and drive away as he watches you, arms behind his head. he watches you go and that breaks your heart. you sob to yourself in the car, not watching where you're driving before swerving off the road and taking a breath. you just nearly crashed..

you decide to read the letters that haechan had wrote for you before continuing to drive off and wanting to leave him behind. maybe it was for the best.

tags : @injvns @polarisjisung @mejaemin @ayukas @hyckvr @yizhrt @blondemrk 

[darnell-la]

Hopefully not to gross. But, I just have been thinking about Logan forcing his cock down his girls throat but he’s so big and rough it makes her vomit. Then instantly going from rough to apologetic when she’s upset

note: PLEASE READ ^^ this is unlike any story we have posted before, and we’d like to make sure whoever reads this will not give any kind of complaints. Thank you!

———

“C’mere,” Logan grabbed a handful of y/n’a hair and pulled her into the bathroom. They had been arguing for what felt like hours in an empty hallway about the mission Logan almost blew because of the way another man touched y/n’s hip.

“Logan, we’re undercover — Shit happens!” Y/n shouted at the man, which instantly put her on her knees. “Don’t fucking care,” Logan growled between his teeth as he reached into his pants to pull himself out.

“Logan, we’re working-“ Before y/n could’ve finished her sentence, the man pushed through her lips. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but he was still hung. That was one good dangerous thing about him.

“You think you’d enjoy this if it was him? Huh!?” Logan asked as he snapped his hips, making sure all that came out of y/n’s mouth were moans and saliva that made its way down her jaw.

“Oh, and believe I’ll send you right back out there to him, looking just like this,” Logan said as he wiped across y/n’s face a few times, smearing her makeup until she started slapping his hands away.

“Now do you think he’ll still want you after seeing you like this? Huh? Huh!?” The man asked as he kept pounding into y/n’s mouth relentlessly.

“No, he won’t — Only I like you like this, Bub, and only I can fucking see you like this,” Logan said right as his cock twitch. As soon as he got fully hard down y/n’s throat, he couldn’t hold himself back.

Y/n slapped Y/n Logan’s lower stomach, trying to tell him that she couldn’t breathe and that he was too far down her mouth, but he wouldn’t put his thrusts to a halt.

“Right there,” Logan growled as he spilled into her mouth. It felt good for a while until y/n began to cough. Within seconds, everything came up, and out of her mouth.

Logan quickly pulled back, not knowing what happened first until he watched her vomit over the bathroom floor.

“Oh, shit,” Logan said as he got to his knees and put a hand on her back to comfort her in some way. The man shook as y/n got everything out that needed to come out.

“Fuck, y/n- I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking-“ Logan tried saying until he was pushed away. “Fuck off!” Y/n’s voice died halfway through her speaking. She could feel the slight pain, and taste of what she had just let out.

“Baby, I didn’t- Baby, I’m sorry,” Logan said as he got up and got a bunch of wipes from the cabinet that was in the fancy bathroom. “Are you okay? Babe, please speak to me — Tell me, are you okay?” Logan asked as he began cleaning the floor.

Y/n didn’t answer the man. She continued coughing to make sure everything was out of her system.

Tears filled Logan’s eyes, feeling like he had done something he could never come back from. “Baby, please — I’m so sorry,” Logan said as he grabbed y/n’s face softly to wipe her down and clean her up.

“I-I didn’t know you couldn’t take it — I was just- I was thinking of myself and thought you’d be okay, because we always go through, and I couldn’t think about another man on you, and I just-“

“Logan, shut up! Please, just- God, relax — I’ll be fine,” y/n grabbed some towels from Logan before pushing him away. “God, you’re just so fucking annoying,” was all y/n could say.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, wanting to break down right then and there. Y/n looked at Logan, hoping he wasn’t actually crying, but he was. That instantly made her roll her eyes and pull him into a hug.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Y/n said as she softly rubbed Logan’s back. Logan couldn't stop apologizing and bringing up how horrible of a person he was for not seeing the signs of her actual struggle, but she shut him down quick.

“Hey, I’m fine with you being rough — Just make sure it’s not after I eat ten deviled eggs,” y/n joked, making Logan let out a slight laugh, but he still didn’t feel too great.

“Let’s just go back to the hotel — He’ll be here tomorrow,”

[sooniebby]

how would your ocs react when their reader suddenly became clingy and touchy, demanding for their attention?

Oh this is cute (this will be in accordant with how the reader is already is in their respective fics, so depending on some, reader is already really clingy)

Yuki — Yuki’s reader is pretty touchy, so that won’t affect Yuki that much. But the sudden rise in demanding attention would probably make him confused. I can see him being annoyed the first few times but then would start to find it cute. He studies a lot so he’ll just pay more attention to you after he’s done.

He’ll also just assume you are bored and that it’s nothing serious.

Eunjae — he’s going to assume his reader is dying. He’d probably check if you have a fever and force you to stay in bed. He’s not cuddly at all so he would be a bit annoyed at constantly being touched but not would only just redirect you to sit still on his lap. Even caging you in so you can’t move around anymore.

Xavier — he’s a bit confused at first, but would be happy to give you any attention you desire. It would probably turn to him being the clingy one after an hour or so

Yubin — a little surprised but then he’s fine with it. He likes groping your tits chest everyday anyway so this is perfect for him. His attention is just gonna be him occasionally motorboating your chest.

Yejun — his reader is already clingy, he’s not going to notice a difference. He’ll handle it as he always does, which is forcing you to lay down on the couch with his arms around your body as he watches tv

Mingi — he’d like it immediately. He likes it whenever you go to him for attention. He’s just giving you anything you want and cuddling you the entire day

Noeul — he’s used to it and would just allow you to press up all on him or do whatever you want. I imagine you could be doing braids in his hair and he’d just allow you to, even bending down so you have easier access to his hair

Vincent — he’s gonna be a little annoyed, depending on when reader is being clingy. If it’s during work he’s kicking you out of the building. But if it’s home, he doesn’t mind, he’d give you whatever you want (not without teasing you though)

Yohan — he’ll be a bit confused but he already cuddles up on you a lot so there won’t be much of a difference

Riki — he’d enjoy it, he’ll give you any attention you want, he likes you being dependent on him

[teaandjumpers]

Occasion (obikin ficlet)

Summary: Obi-Wan gives Anakin a gift. Rated G. - - - -

“I thought we agreed you’d wear goggles at the workstation,” said Obi-Wan, sidling up to stand beside Anakin at his workbench.

The younger man was hunched over the table, soldering something, his face too close to the tool to be considered safe. 

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t creep up on me like that,” said Anakin, not bothering to glance his way. 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, leaning against the workbench. He had broadcast his approach through the Force, and he knew Anakin was aware of his presence, the younger man sending him a slightly annoyed ping across their bond. 

Anakin was often hard to reach when he was working on a project, immersing himself completely in a task and finding it difficult to refocus when he was interrupted. 

He felt bad for a moment, but he had a good reason for disrupting his former Padawan. 

“I have something for you,” he said, keeping his voice light. 

Anakin’s head shot up at the words, his shoulder-length hair whipping about him. 

Oh, how he’d grown into those curls. When he had first started growing his hair out, the dark, golden strands beginning to coil near the ends, Obi-Wan knew that his soft-eyed Padawan was going to be a heartbreaker. 

He just didn’t realize it would be his heart Anakin would be breaking. What a cruel fate to fall for your former Padawan. And a crueler fate to have half the galaxy fall along with you. 

Obi-Wan had done all he could to rid himself of his feelings—the attraction, at least. 

He had given up on not loving Anakin long ago, maybe even as early as that day on Naboo, standing beside his new apprentice, the young boy having been through so much already, standing tall alongside him as an entire planet cheered them on. 

He had asked Yoda once, years before Qui-Gon took him on, what it was like for a Master and Apprentice, what shape a bond took. 

“Different every Master and Padawan relationship is. Find your way there perhaps one day you will.”

And find his way he had. Or rather, it had found him. 

He had loved his Master dearly, his Master’s presence in the Force always grounding, a warm fire that made him feel forever safe, like nothing bad could ever truly happen. 

But Anakin—Anakin was like a supernova, an unending, thunderous storm, a screaming bright star that was impossible to ignore.  

In those early years, he thought of little else but Anakin, his welfare and whereabouts. 

Had his own Master woken repeatedly in the middle of the night, sheets drenched, a blind panic thundering against his chest as he searched the Force for his Padawan’s location? 

Anakin had always been close. Almost always safe. And though Obi-Wan felt him in the Force, he always had to check, confirm it with his eyes, that Anakin was alive, healthy, there.

He was eternally grateful that his apprentice was strong in the Force. It meant Obi-Wan would never have to confront who he would be, who he would become if his Padawan was ever in any real danger.  

Standing beside Anakin now, perhaps one of the strongest Force users in the galaxy, he felt silly, wondering if it was too late to take back his words. Wondering if the younger man had seen the small bundle he was clutching in his right hand. 

Of course he had. 

Obi-Wan wordlessly handed the package over, watching with some trepidation as Anakin untied the string holding the linen fabric in place. 

The cloth fell away to reveal a model ship. It was still grimy despite Obi-Wan’s best efforts to clean the thing, the ship’s insect-like design making it difficult to thoroughly clean its delicate, spindly limbs. 

He had bought the toy on a recent mission, passing by a storefront on a mid-rim planet where a child who looked remarkably like a 10-year old Anakin from behind had stopped him in his tracks, the young boy’s palms pressed against the smudged window pane as he gazed at the model ships neatly displayed on the other side.

How many times had a similar scene played out with Anakin, his Padawan’s gaze straying, fixing on a toy he would never have. 

“It’s a Jedi Vector ship,” said Obi-Wan, the words clumsy on his tongue. “It was a High—”

“A High Republic ship,” finished Anakin, turning the model over in his hands, smiling as he did so. “I know.”

Anakin smiled up at him sweetly, and if Obi-Wan didn’t know the man, if there had been no planet-wide history between them, he would have grabbed him by the face and kissed him. 

A ‘pathetic life form’ he had called him once. Anakin would have been a complete stranger in a different life, a speck of sand in a large desert of people who deserved better. 

It was selfish, and very un-Jedi-like, but Obi-Wan was grateful that Anakin’s fate had been different. 

“But what’s the occasion?” asked Anakin, still smiling, still looking up at him, still, somehow, every bit as spirited as he was before the war. 

The occasion, thought Obi-Wan. The occasion was every occasion, every year, every month, every day, every breath the Force sought fit to gift him, here, alongside Anakin. 

But he simply said—

“You are.”

[theotherrookie]

"So, less vivisections and more existential dread. Sounds exciting." Willow said, shooting Ratchet a fanged grin, before she retrieved some ziplock ties from her coat.

"Oh, that's enough! I know nothing about Five, he just pays me to build things for him!"

"That's not what our sources say. So, sit down and stop whining, Christopher. We're going to take a short trip into the depths of your mind."

There was a moment of silence as an invisible influence forced Ratchet to shut up and sit still. Lucien allowed himself to close his eyes, letting his magic take ahold of the man. He then looked up, motioning with his hand to come closer so that he could share what he was seeing.

Willow deliberately stepped back. She didn't actually care to become that acquainted with Ratchet. Lucien worked silently, so she took that moment to go shut the door, though not before Lucien's disappointment at what he was witnessing could be heard.

"That is not how Gaia intended you to do that."

"Street soup. Tasty." Erica reached to give Smokey a little poke. There was no response whatsoever. "It's okay, he saw a new thing so he's locked in."

She didn't mind. Smokey would come back once it was time for a nap.

"Yeah, it's annoying stuff and some of it is designed to tighten up the more you try to get away."

"Five knows how they work, though. He was working with Ratchet to make deadlier stuff before you caught him."

Something that perhaps they could be grateful for. There was no need to grant that little freak that much power, especially if Five was the one giving him ideas.

The brothers moved just a bit closer when Travis did. The most they were willing to do was pointing at the ones they had seen Ratchet use. Rook watched and used her magic to separate the gadgets from the rest of the pile. There was no need to risk touching them.

"Ratchet likes getting up close. Him being a freak makes him take a lot of stupid risks."

"But some of these can be tossed a good distance. He just sucks at it."

"Didn't he fall on one of his gizmos when you guys were fighting him?" Erica asked. Something about the gadgets had caught her attention, though she couldn't quite tell what it was. "This stuff is kinda weird."

"Back to being spooky! My favorite hobby." At least the situation didn't seem to be wearing down Erica. She really didn't care what happened to those who hurt her friends.

"I don't want to do that– What's this Clockwork Orange shit? Let me go already!"

Of course, there was little that Ratchet could do while Willow was holding him down.

"What's the subject of this class? Biology?" the cyborg asked.

"It might as well be." Lucien replied, "Is there anything specific you'd like me to dig up? Perhaps his most inner fears that not even he is aware of?"

Rook quietly promised herself to later show the others what Willow had been referencing. In the meantime, she decided to go retrieve Ratchet's belongings so that they could go through them with the help of the Twins.

She had a feeling the two were going to make the job much easier, even if between all of them they would have the skills to weed out the more dangerous gadgets from the rest.

"I'm really good at that game, though." Erica shrugged and went ahead to retrieve Smokey, "Thanks, Leofric!"

She gently scooped up the kitten, but let him be when he phased through her hand and hopped on the counter. Smokey apparently wasn't done yet and curled up next to Leofric's grimoire, staring very intently at it.

The Twins didn't seem about to come up with more excuses and made their way over as Rook caught up with the rest of the group.

"Yes, he carries a fuckton of those."

"And he was always messing with something when he wasn't bothering Frosty or kissing Five's ass."

They didn't understand how half of that stuff worked, but they could probably point out some of it.

"Most of the stuff around his wrists is for restraining. They all open up and stretch like a freaking facehugger."

"Some of his rings do the same thing, but I think Five used one as a tourniquet once."

The two watched Rook empty a bucket on an empty on the counter, before motioning at them to go ahead. They weren't about to stick their hands in there for sure.

[champagnecherryblossom]

• Work and Rest: His Tension, Her Rest •

Pairing | minho x fem!reader

Word Count | 676

Summary | After a long day of recording and staying overtime at work, being welcomed home by you in just a pair of panties and a tank top was more than enough to help him relax.

Warnings | idol au, dom!minho, fem!reader, pussy eating, 69, pet names.

Reminder | No blank and ageless blogs, either-or will be blocked !

A/N - a short one but hey, it’s better than nothing. it’s also not very well written, that’s my bad.

The pent up stress Minho felt was both annoying and arousing, you have always been his source of stress reliever. With a simple message 'be ready.' Was enough to send you into a frenzy.

Once the door of the apartment opened and closed, Minho made his way to the bedroom. His belongings forgotten on the floor and his shirt being tossed to the floor. His fingers worked to undo his belt and his zip on hi pants, his cock sprung free from his confinements- standing tall against his abdomen.

Watching, laid out on the bed in your red panties and gray tank top. You spread your legs just enough to show Minho how wet you were already.

"God..." He groaned as he quickly slipped the rest of his clothes off. Crawling onto the bed, his hands came to your legs. Massaging his way up. Shivering, you watched.

"Was work that bad?" You teased knowing damn will it was. Why would he send you a simple text like that? Chuckling, Minho tugged at your legs making you lay flat on the bed.

"Be quiet and let me use you, baby girl." Biting your lip, you nod. The tone of his voice made you throb.

Satisfied with your answer, Minho forced your legs open before he rubbed his length along your soaking panties. Groaning at the feel, Minho's hand came to the base of his cock guiding it up and down your covered slit.

"You're so wet already..." He mindlessly said. His tip pressed against your covered hole a few times before going back to grinding against your slit one more.

"I can't take it anymore." You were a mess already, it was embarrassing really. But hey? Minho loved it, how you'd just fall apart by the slightest touch he gave to your pretty lady parts. Slipping your panties off, Minho brushed his fingers against your wet pussy before he rubbed your clit.

"Don't tease me..." You whined as you watched him play with you. He rubbed your clit between his two fingers before softly pinching. Throwing your head back, you let out a cried out moan.

"Ass!" Chuckling, Minho moved down between your opened legs before dipping down. Licking a long slow lick across your slicked folds, Minho stopped at the clit before sucking on it. Your eyes rolled back as you rubbed against Minho, with a pop Minho released your clit before lapping over the slick that you released. Moaning you rubbed against Minho's faces.

"Let me face fuck you." You breathed out as you let go of his head. Your eyes were glossed over with lust as you watched Minho lay on the bed, his cock throbbing painful yet he did nothing to relieve it.

Smirking, you straddled Minho's face. His lips finding your folds and without hesitation he continued to ate you out, grinding against him. You took his cock into your hand.

"Fuck, baby..." He moaned against your pussy. His hands gripping your hips as he pulled you down onto his face as he gave you the best eat out ever. Pumping him, you took his tip into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around him before taking him in. Groaning, Minho's hips bucked up. His thrust meeting with yours.

You both were a mess, slurping and sucking sounds filled the room as muffled moans and groans mixed with the arousal. The pleasure began to build between the both of you, and it wasn't long until Minho came in your mouth as you came all over his.

Letting his cum leak out of your mouth and onto his still very hard cock, you fell limp on his body. Dazed from the release you had. Minho moved you onto the bed gently, he hover over you with a smirk. The very smirk you've seen many times before.

"You aren't done, huh?" You asked breathlessly.

"Of course not." Minho chuckled as he kissed you with your juices over his face. You tasted each other, the bitter sweet taste making you moan.

"You ready, my girl?"

"Yeah.."

[arilevenatz]

Outscored 𝟐┃C.JH

Pairing: jock! Jongho x Reader

Genre/trope: enemies to lovers au

Word Count: 25.7k (💀) [it's gonna be a 2 parter]

Warnings: biker jongho (need I say more?), he is also a bit annoying, but he becomes a MAN at the end

AN: Ok I'm a sucker for jongho, u guys know it. And after he posted his picture I had a seizure. And I kinda slipped and wrote this whole thing. And yeah this is for all the jongho girlies out there like me. Please please please love this as I spent a lot of time writing this!

This is part two. Read part one here-

one | two

The project turned out better than either of them had expected, and when the professor handed back the grades, it was no surprise that YN and Jongho had scored the highest. The students in the class started whispering about them, dubbing them "the power partners."

YN, however, hated the nickname. She rolled her eyes every time she heard someone say it. “Why can’t people just mind their own business?” she muttered to Hanni one day in the cafeteria.

Hanni, ever the supportive friend, smirked. “Maybe because you and Jongho looked like an actual dream team. Admit it—you two killed that project.”

“Still,” YN huffed, stabbing her salad with unnecessary force, “I don’t like it.”

Over at the ATEEZ table, Jongho wasn’t exactly thrilled with the nickname either. He frowned as one of his friends, Wooyoung, teased him about it.

“Power partners, huh? Sounds about right,” Wooyoung said with a sly grin. “I mean, you two make a good team.”

“Shut up,” Jongho grumbled, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t like it either.”

“Yeah, sure,” Mingi teased, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t like it. But you don’t seem to mind being around her all the time.”

Jongho scowled, but before he could retort, Yeosang, who had been silently observing, spoke up. “Let’s be real, Jongho. Do you actually dislike her, or are you just saying that because you don’t want to admit something?”

“What’s there to admit?” Jongho snapped, crossing his arms.

Seonghwa, ever the voice of reason, sighed. “You’ve been weird about her since day one. You get irritated when she’s better than you, but you also can’t stop noticing every little thing about her. Either figure it out or let it go, because we’re tired of your denial.”

“Exactly,” San added with a grin. “Test it out. See if you actually like her or if she’s just in your head because she’s always in your space.”

Jongho glared at them all, but their words stuck with him. That night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About the way she had taken charge during the project, the way she had cooked for him, the way she had looked at him when she smiled after their grade was announced.

“Do I… like her?” he muttered to himself, the thought making him feel uneasy.

He shook his head, frustrated. No, it couldn’t be that. It was just… annoyance. Competition. Nothing more.

But the thought lingered, and for the first time, Jongho wasn’t so sure of his own answer.

Jongho’s dilemma had become everyone else’s entertainment. His friends, fed up with his constant denial, decided to take matters into their own hands. They came up with a "foolproof" series of tests to help him figure out his feelings.

Test 1: The Jealousy Test

Hongjoong kicked things off by walking up to YN during lunch. With his signature smirk, he leaned casually against her table and said, “YN, you’re looking gorgeous today. How about we ditch class and grab some coffee?”

Jongho, sitting across the cafeteria, froze mid-bite. His eyes narrowed as he watched Hongjoong laugh at something YN said.

“Dude,” Mingi whispered, nudging him. “Why are you gripping your fork like you’re about to stab someone?”

“I’m not,” Jongho muttered through gritted teeth.

“Uh-huh,” Yeosang said, amused. “Sure looks like it.” Wooyoung winked at Jongho. “Yep, he’s pissed. Jealousy level: high.”

“I’m not jealous,” Jongho growled.

“Right,” Wooyoung said, grinning. “And I’m not handsome.”

Test 2: The Compliment Test

The next day, San decided to push Jongho’s buttons. During class, he loudly announced, “You know, YN is really something. She’s smart, funny, and have you seen her hair? Shiny like silk. I bet she smells amazing too.”

Jongho, who was sitting behind YN, audibly scoffed.

San turned around, feigning innocence. “What? You don’t agree, Jongho?”

“She’s… fine,” Jongho said flatly, avoiding everyone’s amused stares.

“Fine?” San repeated, pretending to be offended. “That’s all you’ve got? She’s perfect, and you know it.”

Jongho slouched lower in his seat, muttering, “Shut up, San.”

Test 3: The Heartbeat Test

Seonghwa, ever the schemer, pulled out a fitness tracker with a heart rate monitor. “Okay, Jongho,” he said, strapping it onto his wrist. “Time to see how you react to her.”

“This is stupid,” Jongho grumbled, but he didn’t resist when Seonghwa placed the tracker on his wrist.

As YN walked into the room, Jongho’s heart rate spiked immediately. The boys stared at the tracker in silence before bursting into laughter.

“Calm down, lover boy,” Mingi teased. “You’re about to break the machine.”

Jongho yanked the tracker off, his face red. “It’s broken,” he insisted.

“Sure it is,” Yeosang said with a knowing smirk.

Test 4: The Accidental Touch

Mingi "accidentally" bumped YN into Jongho while they were walking down the hallway. She stumbled, her hand brushing against Jongho’s arm as he steadied her.

“You okay?” Jongho asked, his voice unusually soft.

“I’m fine, thanks,” YN replied, smiling politely before walking off.

The boys, watching from a distance, erupted into cheers.

“Did you see that?” Wooyoung howled. “He didn’t even yell at her!”

Jongho ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I hate all of you.”

“Face it, man,” San said, clapping him on the back. “You’ve got it bad.”

Despite the teasing and their ridiculous tests, Jongho couldn’t shake the growing realization. No matter how much he denied it, his friends were right—YN had gotten under his skin, and there was no turning back.

YN paced back and forth in her dorm room, arms crossed and brows furrowed as she fumed. “What is their problem? Why can’t they just leave me alone?!” she practically yelled.

Hanni sat on the bed, nervously watching her friend explode. She held a notebook in her lap but had completely forgotten about it as she tried to calm YN down. “Okay, okay, breathe. Don’t let them get to you, YN. They’re just… being their usual chaotic selves.”

“No,” YN snapped, spinning around to face Hanni. “This isn’t just their usual chaos. They’re deliberately messing with me, and I’m done with it.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “What do they even want from me?!”

Hanni bit her lip. “I mean… maybe Jongho likes you?”

YN stopped dead in her tracks, staring at Hanni like she’d grown another head. “What? Jongho? Like me? Absolutely not.”

Hanni shrugged, holding up her hands in surrender. “I’m just saying! It’s not like he goes out of his way to mess with anyone else like this.”

YN groaned, pressing her palms to her temples. “Even if that were true, how does this make any sense? His friends are involved now too! They’re all acting like lunatics, and I’m losing my mind.”

Hanni got up, placing her hands on YN’s shoulders. “Okay, listen. You want peace, right?”

“Yes,” YN said through gritted teeth.

“Then confront them. March up to their table, call them out, and demand an answer. If Jongho or his friends don’t give you one, I’ll personally throw my coffee at Wooyoung.”

Despite her anger, YN couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “You’d really throw your coffee at Wooyoung?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Hanni said with a grin. “I’d make it iced so it stings more.”

YN sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Fine. Tomorrow, I’m confronting them. But if I don’t get a proper answer, they’d better be prepared.”

Hanni gave her a thumbs-up. “Now that’s the YN I know. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

The next day, YN stormed into the cafeteria during lunch. The usual buzz of chatter filled the room, but she had her sights set on one table: Ateez’s.

Without hesitation, she marched over and slammed her hands on the table, startling them all. The entire cafeteria seemed to quiet down as people turned to watch.

“What do you want from me?!” YN demanded, her voice firm.

The boys exchanged glances, some smirking, some looking a bit guilty. Jongho, sitting at the center, raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” he asked calmly.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” YN snapped. “I know you’ve all been messing with me. Whatever weird little game this is, stop it. I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, grinning. “She’s feisty. I like her.”

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa warned, giving him a look.

“Look,” YN continued, glaring at Jongho specifically, “I don’t care what your problem is. If you have something to say to me, say it. Otherwise, stay out of my way.”

Jongho leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he met her gaze. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was low and steady. “Maybe I do have something to say.”

The tension was thick as YN folded her arms, her heart racing despite her anger. “Then say it.”

For a moment, it seemed like Jongho might actually confess something, but instead, he leaned back in his chair and smirked. “Not here. Later.”

YN rolled her eyes. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, turning on her heel to leave.

Behind her, the boys chuckled, but Jongho remained quiet, his smirk fading as he watched her walk away.

The lecture droned on, the professor’s voice blending into the background as YN’s attention started to waver. She rested her chin on her hand, her fingers tapping lightly on the desk. Her focus drifted from the lesson, and she casually let her gaze wander around the classroom, trying to keep herself awake.

It was an innocent habit. A quick scan of the room, her eyes briefly passing over her classmates. But when her gaze landed on Jongho, she froze.

He was already looking at her.

It wasn’t just a passing glance or idle staring. His eyes were locked onto her with an intensity that felt borderline magnetic. His dark brown eyes were sharp, unwavering, and inexplicably powerful. It was like he wasn’t just looking at her—he was seeing straight through her.

YN’s breath hitched for a moment. Her stomach churned with unease, but at the same time, something unfamiliar twisted deep within her. She hated to admit it, but he looked… ridiculously attractive. His expression was calm but unreadable, his jawline accentuated by the way he tilted his head slightly.

Why does he look like that? she thought, trying to keep her composure. And why can’t I stop looking at him?

It reminded her of that night at the red light stop—the same piercing gaze through the black helmet. But this time, it felt more personal. There was no helmet to mask his features, no physical barrier between them. Just those impossibly striking eyes.

She quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks warming despite herself. Get it together, YN. It’s just Jongho.

But her heart wasn’t cooperating. It beat just a little faster than usual, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of his stare lingering even after she looked away.

Unbeknownst to her, Jongho smirked faintly. He had caught the way her face changed, the subtle way her lips parted in surprise before she turned away. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him feel victorious.

Interesting, he thought, leaning back in his chair. So she’s not entirely unaffected after all.

Jongho was never the kind of person to overthink emotions. He dealt with things as they came, approaching life with confidence and logic. But when it came to YN, logic didn’t seem to work anymore. Every time he saw her, his feelings became more chaotic, more confusing, and undeniably more prominent. While he couldn’t fully grasp what he felt, his actions started to show it, whether he intended them to or not.

YN was seated in her usual spot, scribbling notes furiously as the professor explained a particularly complex topic. Jongho sat a few rows behind her, his eyes drifting toward her more often than his notebook.

The class was halfway through when the professor announced a quick pop quiz. Everyone groaned, including YN, who had just run out of ink in her pen.

“Great timing,” she muttered under her breath, shaking the pen in frustration. She rummaged through her pencil case, but it was clear she didn’t have a spare.

Jongho noticed immediately. He reached into his bag, pulling out an extra pen without hesitation. Instead of handing it over himself, he nudged the guy sitting next to him, gesturing toward YN.

“Pass this to her,” Jongho said, his voice low.

The pen made its way to YN, who blinked in surprise when it landed on her desk. She glanced over her shoulder to see who it came from, her eyes landing on Jongho. He didn’t say anything, just met her gaze briefly before looking away, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Thanks,” she whispered, though he didn’t acknowledge it.

It was a small gesture, but it left YN feeling oddly unsettled. For someone who usually went out of his way to annoy her, the act of kindness felt strange—almost deliberate.

YN sat at her usual corner table, flipping through a thick reference book for an upcoming assignment. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice Jongho entering the library until he pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.

She looked up, startled. “What are you doing here?”

“Studying,” he said simply, pulling out his notebook.

She frowned. “There are plenty of other tables.”

“This one’s fine,” he replied, not looking at her as he started writing.

YN sighed, deciding to ignore him and focus on her own work. But as the minutes ticked by, she couldn’t help but notice him stealing glances at her. She tried to brush it off, thinking it was her imagination, until she reached for her coffee cup and accidentally knocked it over.

“Crap,” she muttered, quickly grabbing a tissue from her bag to clean up the spill.

Before she could fully manage, Jongho slid his notebook aside, pulling out a small packet of tissues from his jacket pocket. He handed it to her without a word.

YN paused, staring at him. “You carry tissues around?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging. “You never know when someone’s going to be clumsy.”

She rolled her eyes but took the tissues. “Thanks, I guess.”

Jongho smirked faintly but said nothing, leaning back in his chair as she cleaned up the mess.

As she continued working, YN couldn’t help but feel his presence more than usual. There was something different about him lately—something softer. And though she hated to admit it, it was starting to mess with her head.

Jongho, on the other hand, was quietly observing her, trying to figure out why watching her focus so intently on her work made him feel strangely… content.

It was one of those days where the world seemed to be falling apart for YN. She sat in the library, her head buried in her arms, tears streaming silently down her face. Her phone lay on the table next to her, the call from her mother still echoing in her mind. Her dad had suffered a stroke. The news had hit her like a freight train, and the helplessness of not being able to reach him was eating her alive.

She had tried everything—calling for train tickets, searching for buses, and even looking into flights—but nothing seemed to work. The distance to her hometown suddenly felt insurmountable, and it left her feeling trapped and powerless.

Hanni sat beside her, her own heart breaking at the sight of her best friend in such despair. She had never seen YN like this—so vulnerable, so broken. Hanni tried to console her, rubbing her back gently, but she knew words wouldn’t fix this.

“You need to go to him,” Hanni said softly.

“I can’t,” YN choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. “There’s no way to get there.”

Hanni clenched her fists, her mind racing. If no one else could help, then there was only one person who could. She didn’t hesitate. Standing up, she grabbed her bag and stormed out of the library, leaving YN behind.

Jongho and his friends were lounging in their usual spot outside the gym, the air filled with their loud chatter and occasional bursts of laughter. Mingi was tossing a football back and forth with San, while Wooyoung was busy showing off some absurd new trick with a deck of cards. Hongjoong leaned against a bench, scrolling through his phone, while Jongho sat quietly, sipping on his protein shake, his usual stoic presence anchoring the group.

The peace was shattered when Hanni stormed into the scene, her expression a mix of frustration and desperation. The group turned to her, their conversations dying mid-sentence.

“What’s this?” Wooyoung smirked, tossing the cards onto the table. “The library queen has graced us with her presence?”

Hanni ignored him completely, her eyes locking onto Jongho. “I need to talk to you.”

Jongho raised an eyebrow, setting down his drink. “What is it?”

“It’s YN,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Her dad had a stroke, and she needs to get home, but there are no tickets available. She’s stuck, and she’s losing it. You have a bike. You can take her.”

The guys exchanged glances, the playful atmosphere immediately shifting into something more serious.

“And why do you think he should do it?” San asked, crossing his arms.

“Because he’s the only one who can!” Hanni snapped, her tone sharper than she intended. “I wouldn’t trust you to get her there safely. Jongho can handle it.”

Jongho’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why me?”

“Because,” Hanni said, her voice softening, “for all your stupid games and ego battles, I know you care about her.”

The group went silent, all eyes on Jongho. He didn’t say anything at first, his jaw clenching slightly as he processed her words. Then, without a word, he stood up, grabbing his bag from the bench.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“The library,” Hanni said quickly.

“Alright,” he muttered, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

His friends watched as he started walking off, a mix of surprise and curiosity on their faces.

“Wait,” Wooyoung called out, smirking. “Is this your knight-in-shining-armor moment, Jongho? Should we start calling you Prince Charming now?”

“Shut up,” Jongho shot back, but there was no real heat in his tone.

As Hanni led him toward the library, she couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of her eye. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, there was a determined look in his eyes that gave her hope. Maybe, just maybe, YN had someone who would always be there when it truly mattered.

The library was eerily quiet as Hanni and Jongho stepped inside, the soft sound of turning pages and the occasional rustle of papers filling the air. Hanni led the way to the corner where YN was sitting, her head buried in her arms, silent tears streaming down her face.

Jongho’s jaw tightened at the sight. He didn’t hesitate. Striding up to her, he stopped just a step away and cleared his throat.

“YN,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

She lifted her head slowly, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She blinked up at him, confusion crossing her face.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“I’m taking you home,” he said bluntly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Get your stuff and pack a bag. We’re leaving now.”

She stared at him for a moment, stunned by his words. Normally, she would’ve protested or argued back, but she was too emotionally drained to put up a fight. Instead, she just nodded, her movements slow and robotic as she stood and grabbed her bag.

Hanni watched the exchange with a mix of relief and curiosity. She had never seen Jongho so direct, so...caring, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“Thank you,” Hanni whispered to Jongho as YN gathered her things.

He didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on YN the entire time. Once she was ready, he turned on his heel and led the way out of the library, his stride confident.

The ride was quiet, the hum of the bike engine filling the silence as they sped down the highway. YN sat behind Jongho, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist as the cool night air whipped past them.

Jongho didn’t say a word, but he drove with an intensity that YN couldn’t ignore. Despite everything—the teasing, the bickering, the games—she felt a strange sense of safety in that moment.

She rested her head lightly against his back, her tears drying as the rhythm of the bike soothed her nerves. She didn’t know what to say, and for once, she didn’t feel the need to fill the silence.

Jongho, on the other hand, was acutely aware of her presence. Her warmth against his back, the way her arms tightened around him every time they turned a corner—it was all making his thoughts spiral. He didn’t understand why he felt so protective of her, why her tears had struck such a chord with him.

But one thing was certain: he would do whatever it took to get her home, no questions asked.

As they entered the hospital, the smell of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the muffled sounds of machines and quiet conversations. YN wasted no time running toward the general ward, her heart pounding as she navigated the maze of hallways. Jongho followed closely behind, her bag slung over his shoulder, his usually calm expression now tinged with concern.

When she finally reached the ward, her heart sank. Her father was lying on a general bed, his face pale and drawn, wires and monitors attached to him. Her mother sat by his side, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, exhaustion etched into her features.

“Mom,” YN called, her voice trembling as she approached. “What’s going on? Why is he here? Why isn’t he in a proper room?”

Her mother looked up, her tired eyes meeting YN’s. “The hospital is full, sweetheart,” she said, her voice heavy. “There aren’t any rooms available right now. This was the only space they had.”

YN clenched her fists, her heart breaking at the sight of her father in such a crowded and uncomfortable setting. She looked around, taking in the other patients crammed into the small ward, the lack of privacy, and the impersonal atmosphere.

“This isn’t right,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “He needs proper care.”

Just as the air in the room grew heavier with worry, a nurse approached them, her voice soft but clear.

“Excuse me,” she said, looking at YN’s mother. “A private room has just been arranged for your husband. We’ll move him there shortly.”

YN blinked, her mind racing with confusion. She looked at her mother, who appeared equally surprised, and then back at the nurse.

“Wait, what?” YN asked, standing up abruptly. “How did that happen? Who...who arranged it?”

The nurse didn't say anything, YN was shocked, glancing at Jongho, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“Someone already covered the charges,” the nurse said quietly.

YN’s gaze snapped to Jongho, her heart sinking and racing all at once. She stared at him, her eyes wide with a mix of disbelief, confusion, and something she couldn’t quite name.

“You...you paid for it?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

Jongho shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “It’s no big deal,” he said, his tone casual. “Your dad needed a proper room, and you didn’t have time to deal with all the red tape. That’s all.”

“No big deal?” YN repeated, her voice rising. She took a step closer to him, her emotions swirling in a chaotic storm. “Jongho, private rooms in a hospital cost a fortune! You can’t just—why would you even—”

He finally looked at her then, his gaze steady but tinged with something soft, something almost vulnerable. “Because you needed it,” he said simply. “That’s all that matters.”

For a moment, YN couldn’t speak. Her throat felt tight, and she wasn’t sure if it was from gratitude, anger, or something else entirely. She glanced at her mother, who was watching them with a knowing look, and then back at Jongho.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper.

“I wanted to,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The nurse cleared her throat gently, breaking the tension. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go make sure everything is ready for the transfer,” she said before walking away.

YN stood there, her emotions a whirlwind. She wanted to thank him, to argue with him, to understand why he would do something so selfless after everything they’d been through. But instead, she just nodded, her voice trembling as she said, “Thank you, Jongho. Really.”

He gave her a small nod, his stoic facade firmly in place. But as she turned back to her father, he allowed himself a brief moment to watch her, his chest tightening with an emotion he was finally starting to understand.

The hospital lobby was quiet except for the occasional announcements over the intercom. YN sat on one of the plastic chairs, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the floor. Jongho sat beside her, his legs stretched out, arms crossed, silent as ever. The check-up was still ongoing, and the wait felt endless.

She didn’t know why, but the weight in her chest felt unbearable. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the emotions swirling in her head. Or maybe it was because, for the first time in a long while, someone was sitting beside her, just… there. No judgment. No empty words of comfort. Just Jongho, quiet and solid.

Without really thinking, she spoke. “My dad is an alcoholic.”

Jongho turned his head slightly, his brows furrowing, but he didn’t say anything. He just listened.

“He wasn’t always like this,” she continued, her fingers clenching the fabric of her hoodie. “He used to be a good dad. He worked hard, took care of us, made stupid dad jokes. But then… something changed.”

Jongho didn’t ask what. He let her talk.

“He started drinking. At first, it was just a little. Stress, he said. Just a way to unwind. But then it got worse. He started losing jobs, coming home late, spending money we didn’t have. And the worst part was…” She swallowed. “He got angry. All the time. At everything.”

Jongho’s jaw tightened, but he still didn’t interrupt.

“He never hit us,” she clarified, her voice quieter now. “But the words… sometimes they cut deeper. The yelling, the accusations, the way he would just explode over the smallest things. My mom tried to handle it, but it wore her down. And me? I—I couldn’t stay. I had to get out. That’s why I left. That’s why I stay in dorms or anywhere but home.”

Jongho exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. Then, in a voice lower than usual, he finally spoke.

“That’s why you never go back.”

YN blinked, turning to look at him. His face was calm, but there was an edge to his voice. Like he understood more than he let on.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was heavy, filled with things unsaid.

Then, Jongho shifted, resting his arms on his knees as he stared ahead. “Must’ve been hard.”

YN let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, well. Life’s not exactly a fairy tale.”

He glanced at her, his gaze softer than usual. “No. It’s not.”

Another silence. This time, it felt… different.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “You’re stronger than you think, you know that?”

YN turned to him sharply, caught off guard. “What?”

Jongho shrugged, looking away. “I’m just saying. You left. You got out. You built something for yourself instead of letting it trap you. That takes guts.”

YN didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t used to people saying things like this to her—especially not Jongho of all people.

Jongho leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply. He rubbed his hands together, as if debating whether to speak or not. YN was still staring at him, her eyes searching, waiting.

“I guess… it’s only fair if I tell you something too,” he muttered, his voice quieter than usual.

YN didn’t push. She just nodded, silently telling him to continue.

“My parents,” he started, pausing for a second. “They never really cared about me.”

That caught her off guard. She had always imagined him coming from a well-off family, considering the way he carried himself, the expensive apartment, the confidence.

“They weren’t bad people,” he continued, staring at the floor. “They just… weren’t really parents. Their world was business, money, social status. I was more like a project than a kid. Something to mold into their perfect successor.” He scoffed. “But I wasn’t interested in any of that.”

YN stayed quiet, letting him talk at his own pace.

“I grew up in empty houses. Big, expensive places with no warmth. I had tutors, trainers, all that. But never them.” He clenched his jaw. “They were always too busy. Too far away. And when they were around, it was all about expectations. I had to be the best. Had to be strong. Had to be exactly what they wanted. If I wasn’t, I wasn’t worth their time.”

YN felt a strange tightness in her chest. She had never heard him talk like this before.

“But my friends?” He huffed a small laugh. “They’re my real family. They were the ones who actually cared. Looked out for me. Picked fights for me when I was pissed off. Made sure I ate when I was too stubborn to admit I was hungry. Taught me how to survive outside of what my parents wanted me to be.”

He glanced at her, his expression softer now. “That’s why I’m the way I am. Why I fight, why I stick with them no matter what. They’re all I’ve got.”

Silence settled between them again, heavy but not uncomfortable.

YN finally spoke, her voice gentle. “You’re lucky, you know?”

Jongho raised a brow. “Lucky?”

She nodded. “You found people who care about you. Even if it’s not in the way you expected.”

Jongho stared at her for a long moment, then smirked slightly. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

She didn’t say anything, just gave him a small smile in return. And for the first time since they’d met, they weren’t rivals, weren’t enemies. Just two people, sitting in a hospital lobby, understanding each other in a way no one else ever had.

For a moment, neither of them moved. YN had acted without thinking, driven by the strange warmth in her chest. She had never hugged him before—never even considered it. But right now, it just felt right.

Jongho stiffened, caught off guard. It's not like he was not hugged before, wooyoung and san always hug him, but this was different.

It was YN.

She held onto him tightly, her face buried in his shoulder, gripping his hoodie like she was afraid he’d disappear. She didn’t say anything, didn’t explain. She just stayed there, holding him like she needed him.

And what she didn’t know was that Jongho needed it just as much.

Slowly, his tense shoulders relaxed, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. His arms moved on their own, wrapping around her waist, holding her just as tightly.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

For once, there was no competition, no rivalry, no mind games. Just them.

Jongho closed his eyes, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head. He didn’t understand his feelings completely, but he knew one thing.

He didn’t want to let go.

Jongho had never felt this out of place before. Hospitals weren’t his thing—too quiet, too sterile, too full of emotions he didn’t know how to deal with. But YN had dragged him inside, refusing to let him just stand outside like some outsider.

“If you’re uncomfortable, you can just stand in the doorway,” she had said.

And that’s exactly what he did. Arms crossed, leaning against the frame, watching silently as YN sat beside her father’s bed, her mother beside her.

Her father was awake now, looking tired but stable. He still had that roughness to him, even as he weakly talked to YN, but it was clear he wasn’t the same man she had once feared.

Jongho didn’t say much, didn’t interfere, but YN’s mother noticed him. She had been watching him carefully, taking in his presence, the way he lingered like a silent guardian.

Then, with a warm but firm voice, she said, “You should come to dinner at our house.”

Jongho’s head snapped up. “Huh?”

“My daughter wouldn’t have made it here without you,” her mother continued. “Let me properly thank you.”

Jongho hesitated. Dinner? With YN’s family? That was… new. He wasn’t used to things like that.

“I don’t—” He started to refuse, but then he saw it.

The way YN was looking at him.

She wasn’t saying anything, but her expression said everything. She wanted him to say yes.

And damn it, if there was one person who could make him agree to things he normally wouldn’t… It was her.

“…Fine,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

YN smiled. And Jongho, despite himself, felt a little warmer inside.

Jongho had never really thought about how YN lived. He knew she stayed in the dorms, but seeing her actual home was… different.

The house wasn’t tiny, but it wasn’t big enough for three people to live comfortably either. There was only one bedroom, and judging by the way her mother moved around the space so naturally, it was clear that privacy wasn’t really a thing here.

As they paced around the room, Jongho’s sharp eyes caught every little detail—the slightly worn-out furniture, the faint scent of home-cooked meals, the single bed pushed against the wall, the small study desk that was clearly YN’s. She didn’t even have her own room.

He didn’t say anything, but YN must have caught the way he was observing everything because she suddenly crossed her arms and looked up at him.

“I know it’s not as big as your fancy apartment,” she said, a teasing edge to her voice, “but you’ll have to adjust.”

Jongho scoffed, shaking his head. “You think I care about that?”

YN blinked. “Don’t you?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who has to live here. I’m just visiting.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying you wouldn’t survive in a smaller home?”

Jongho leaned against the wall, smirking. “I’m saying you clearly think too much about what I think.”

YN opened her mouth, ready to argue, but before she could say anything, her mother called from the kitchen.

“Dinner’s ready!”

The conversation was left hanging, but Jongho didn’t miss the way YN shot him one last glare before turning on her heel and walking towards the dining table.

He shook his head, suppressing a small smile as he followed her.

Dinner was… different. Not in a bad way. Just different.

Jongho had expected it to be awkward. Maybe some polite conversation, a few “thank yous,” and then he’d be on his way. But YN’s mother? She was nothing like he expected.

From the moment they sat down, she treated him like he was one of her own.

“Eat more, Jongho. You need to keep up that strength, right?” she said, piling more food onto his plate before he could even respond.

Jongho blinked. “Uh—yeah, I guess.”

YN stifled a laugh as she watched her mother practically adopt him on the spot.

“You must work out a lot,” her mother continued, eyeing his broad frame. “No wonder you’re so strong! You know, YN never brings home any friends. I was starting to think she didn’t have any.”

“Mom!” YN groaned, her face heating up.

Jongho smirked, looking at YN. “Yeah? I’m the first?”

“She never even talks about anyone,” her mother added. “But I can tell she trusts you.”

YN glared at her mom like she just exposed a national secret, while Jongho simply took a bite of his food, feeling… warm.

The conversation flowed so naturally. Her mother asked him about his studies, his life, if he was eating properly, even scolding him a little when he admitted he mostly ordered takeout. She fussed over him in a way no one ever had before.

It was strange. It was new.

But it felt… nice.

For the first time in a long time, Jongho felt like he had a place at a family dinner. Not just as a guest, but as someone who belonged.

YN noticed. She watched the way Jongho let his guard down, how he actually smiled—a real one, not his usual cocky smirk. It made her feel happy.

He deserved this.

He deserved to feel this warmth.

After dinner, YN grabbed the trash bags and headed outside, leaving Jongho alone with her mother to clean up.

Jongho wasn’t used to doing dishes with anyone—he usually ate alone or with his friends, where everything was chaotic and someone else always handled the cleaning. But standing here, washing dishes beside YN’s mother, it felt… peaceful.

As they worked in comfortable silence, her mother suddenly spoke.

“She didn’t have a great childhood, you know.”

Jongho paused, glancing at her. He had already known that from what YN told him at the hospital, but hearing it from her mother hit differently.

She let out a soft sigh, scrubbing a plate. “I did my best, but… I still feel like I failed her.”

Jongho didn’t know what to say to that. He had never really thought about parents blaming themselves before. His own never did.

“I just want her to be happy,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “She pretends she’s strong, but she’s been through a lot.”

Jongho set down the dish he was holding, wiping his hands on a towel before turning to her.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice firm but sincere. “As long as I’m here, she will be happy.”

Her mother looked up at him, studying his expression. Then, she smiled—soft and knowing.

“I believe you.”

It had been a month since that night at YN’s home, and things between her and Jongho had… changed.

They weren’t enemies. They weren’t exactly friends either. But they had fallen into a routine—one that felt strangely domestic.

Jongho would casually grab an extra coffee for her in the mornings, placing it on her desk with a simple, “You looked half-dead, don’t read too much into it.”

YN, in return, would remind him to eat properly, sometimes even handing him snacks with a nonchalant, “I don’t want you fainting in the gym or something. That’d be embarrassing.”

They walked to class together, studied together, and even sat next to each other during lectures. If Jongho wasn’t around, people would ask YN where he was. And if YN was late, Jongho would just roll his eyes but keep the seat next to him open.

They bickered over stupid things.

“Why are you staring at me?” YN asked one day, feeling his eyes on her.

“I wasn’t.”

“You literally were.”

“I was just zoning out,” Jongho huffed, looking away.

Or when YN handed him an umbrella on a rainy day.

“Here,” she said, shoving it into his hands.

Jongho frowned. “I don’t need it.”

“Then get soaked. Not my problem.”

“Then why’d you bring me one?”

“You're too noisy. Shut up and take it.”

They acted like they were just tolerating each other, but everyone else saw the truth.

They were basically a couple.

Just two idiots too stubborn to admit it.

YN felt… different.

It wasn’t something she could explain easily, but it was there—a strange pull toward Jongho. Like a force of nature she had no control over.

And, of course, Hanni wouldn’t shut up about it.

“You’re in love,” Hanni declared one day, arms crossed as if she had just solved the biggest mystery of the century.

YN, horrified, immediately shut her down. “Shut up. No, I’m not.”

“Oh, really?” Hanni smirked. “Then why do you always look out for him?”

“I just—he’s stupid sometimes, I need to make sure he doesn’t die.”

“And why do you get sad when you don’t see him?”

“That’s… that’s normal! I see him all the time, it’s weird when he’s not there.”

“And why do you get weird feelings when you’re together?”

YN froze.

Because that was true.

She did feel weird things when they were together—like her heart deciding to sprint for no reason, or how she found herself staring at him longer than necessary. She noticed the way his jaw clenched when he was focused, how his voice was deeper when he was tired, and how his hands were always warm even when it was freezing outside.

Oh no.

Hanni grinned, seeing the realization dawn on YN’s face. “Yeah. You’re so in love it’s embarrassing.”

YN groaned, covering her face. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Jongho was losing his mind.

It started subtly—little things he noticed during their daily interactions. Like how small her hands were compared to his when she shoved a snack into his palm. Or how short she was, always tilting her head up to glare at him when they bickered.

And then it got worse.

One day, she was rambling about something, waving her hands dramatically, and all he could think about was how badly he wanted to squish her cheeks.

Another time, she got mad at him over something stupid—probably about stealing her drink—and the way her nose scrunched up made his fingers twitch. She looked like an angry little kitten, and he… he was the big bear who wanted to scoop her up and keep her in his arms.

“Are you even listening?” she huffed, crossing her arms.

No. No, he wasn’t.

Because his brain was too busy fighting the cuteness aggression building up inside him.

So instead of answering, he just reached out and flicked her forehead.

“Hey!” she whined, rubbing the spot. “What was that for?”

Jongho smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Dunno. Just felt like it.”

If only she knew it was to stop himself from doing something even worse. Like pinching her cheeks until she smacked him.

He was doomed.

Like when they had gone out for ice cream, and YN, being herself, had managed to make a mess.

She was eating too quickly, and suddenly, a small drop of melted ice cream landed on the tip of her nose.

Jongho stared.

She blinked up at him, confused. “What?”

His grip on his cone tightened.

Was she real? Was this actually happening? Was she actually standing there, looking up at him with big eyes, ice cream on her nose, completely unaware of how devastatingly cute she was?

He exhaled sharply, leaned in, and—

Flick!

She yelped as he wiped the ice cream off with his thumb, scowling at her. “You’re a mess.”

She pouted. “You could’ve just told me.”

Yeah, well, if he had told her, he would’ve also had to admit that he was two seconds away from pinching her cheeks and calling her cute.

So no, thanks.

Or like when YN had forgotten her hair tie, so she dug into her bag and pulled out a tiny, pastel pink hair clip.

Jongho watched as she struggled to keep her hair out of her face with that.

The tiny clip was fighting for its life against her hair, barely holding anything in place. She kept adjusting it, pushing stray strands away with a frustrated huff.

Jongho’s jaw clenched.

It was too much.

The stupid little hair clip, her pouty concentration face, the way she kept huffing when the strands fell back—

Before he could stop himself, he reached out, plucked the clip from her hair, and smoothly tied it up with his own black hair tie which he conveniently had on his wrist.

She blinked at him. “...Oh.”

He crossed his arms. “There. Now you won’t look dumb.”

Her lips parted in offense. “Excuse you! My clip was working just fine—”

Jongho just flicked her forehead again and walked off before she could see the stupid grin threatening to break out on his face.

She was going to kill him one day.

Or worse—he was going to fall harder.

Jongho had always paid attention to the little things. It was something he’d always done, but now it was a bit more… personal.

The way YN would subtly try to avoid the topic of her birthday when it came up, how she’d always change the subject or even just shut it down completely. He never understood it until he saw it written in the corner of her notebook one day, almost as if it was an afterthought—her birthday was coming up.

Something about that made him pause.

He couldn’t help but wonder why she never celebrated it, why she never talked about it. It bothered him more than he realized. No one should feel like that about their birthday. It was supposed to be a day to feel special, to be loved.

But for YN… it didn’t seem that way at all.

YN stepped into Jongho's apartment, not knowing why he suddenly called her, but what she saw made her stop in her tracks. The entire place was decorated—soft, pastel colors, fairy lights hanging delicately from the walls, and small touches of things she liked scattered around the room. It felt like a scene straight out of one of those Pinterest boards she had secretly admired but never thought she'd experience herself.

On the table was a small cake, decorated with cream and flowers—exactly the way she liked it. But what really caught her eye was the little crown placed beside it.

Jongho stood by the door, hands in his pockets, nervously watching her reaction. His heart pounded as he waited for her to say something.

"Jongho..." YN started, her voice barely above a whisper as she took in the effort he’d put into everything. "What is all this?"

He scratched the back of his neck, feeling a little embarrassed now that she was actually here. "Well... I know you don't like big celebrations, but I thought you'd like something a little special, you know? Something just for you."

She blinked, stunned. "But... this is all for me?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's your birthday, right?" Jongho said casually, though there was a small, nervous grin tugging at his lips.

YN couldn't hide the smile that tugged at her own. She looked around, noticing the little details—soft cushions, a few of her favorite books stacked neatly on the shelf, the little crown, and the cake that seemed to have her name written all over it.

"Why the crown?" she asked, half-laughing, half-teary-eyed.

Jongho shrugged, a little embarrassed. "You deserve to feel like a queen today. No one should ever feel like they don't deserve to be celebrated."

That did it. YN's heart swelled, and for a moment, she couldn't speak. The thoughtfulness behind everything hit her hard. Her birthday had always been a quiet, unnoticed day, but here Jongho was, treating her like she was the most important person in the world.

He stepped forward, holding out the little crown. "Here, your majesty."

YN laughed softly, taking it from his hands and placing it on her head, feeling a warmth in her chest she hadn't expected. "This is... this is too much," she whispered, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

"You deserve it," Jongho said, his voice low but warm, his eyes locking with hers in that moment. "Happy Birthday, YN."

Her heart skipped a beat, her emotions rushing to the surface. "Thank you," she whispered back, her voice cracking slightly. She looked at him, her gratitude overflowing. "Thank you for seeing me."

Jongho stepped a little closer, the two of them standing there amidst the cozy decorations, the soft glow of the fairy lights casting a warm hue on their faces.

"You’re welcome," he said simply, then took a step back, a playful grin appearing on his face. "Now, let’s eat this cake before I eat all of it myself."

YN laughed, feeling lighter than she had in a long time, her heart full of warmth from the little moments that had made this birthday unforgettable. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this special—this loved.

Jongho had done it. He had turned her quiet day into a celebration of everything she had ever wanted.

After cutting the cake and sharing a few playful bites, Jongho leaned back in his chair, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Alright, birthday girl, close your eyes."

YN raised an eyebrow, suspicious but amused. "Why?"

"Just do it," he said, rolling his eyes but still holding that teasing grin.

With a little sigh, she closed her eyes, sitting still as she waited. She could hear him moving around the room, the sound of rustling paper and something being set down on the table in front of her.

"Okay," he finally said, his voice a little softer than before. "You can open them now."

YN opened her eyes—and immediately, her breath hitched.

In front of her was something she never expected but instantly adored—a bouquet of books, beautifully wrapped in soft-colored paper with a ribbon tied neatly around them. Not just any books, but ones she had casually mentioned wanting to read, ones she had stared at in the library but never picked up, ones that he must have noticed her lingering over.

She blinked rapidly, her fingers tracing over the spines as if making sure they were real. "Jongho… you—"

"You like them?" he asked, voice steady but eyes betraying a hint of nervousness.

YN couldn't speak. The warmth in her chest was overwhelming, emotions bubbling up faster than she could control. Instead of answering, she got up from her seat and wrapped her arms around him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder.

Jongho stiffened for a second, but then, slowly, he relaxed into the hug, his arms coming around her just as tightly.

"You idiot," she mumbled against his hoodie, voice muffled but full of emotion. "This is the best gift ever."

Jongho let out a small chuckle, resting his chin lightly on her head. "Good," he said, a smile forming on his lips. "Because I wasn’t sure if you’d think it was lame."

YN shook her head against him, gripping onto his hoodie tighter. "It's not. It’s perfect."

And for a while, they just stayed like that, wrapped up in warmth and something unspoken between them—something soft, something real. Neither of them said it aloud, but they both knew.

They were falling, and this time, neither of them wanted to stop.

Jongho felt his heart race when he saw the small blush creeping up her cheeks, her eyes glistening with emotion as they met his. Her gaze lingered, vulnerable yet trusting, and something inside him clicked. All the words he'd been holding back, all the feelings he couldn't quite define-they came rushing forward.

Before he could even think, he cupped her face gently with his hands, tilting her chin up just slightly. She didn't pull away, her breath hitching as she stared at him, her lips parted slightly in confusion.

Without a second thought, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tentative kiss. His heart pounded in his chest as the moment stretched between them-gentle, slow, and full of everything they had been holding back.

YN's breath caught as she froze for a moment, her mind catching up with what was happening. But then, instinctively, she closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss, her hands finding their way to his chest.

The world around them seemed to disappear as everything fell quiet, just the warmth of their bodies and the undeniable pull between them. Jongho's hand slid to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss, and YN's fingers clenched slightly around his hoodie, her heart thumping in her chest.When they finally pulled away, they were both breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. Jongho looked down at her, his thumb brushing her cheek as he caught his breath.

"YN," he whispered, his voice rough, "I... I don't know what this is, but I can't stop thinking about you."

YN's heart fluttered at his words, her cheeks still flushed. She could feel the sincerity in his voice, the way his hands were slightly trembling as they stayed gently on her face.

"I think I feel the same," she whispered back, her voice just above a breathless murmur.

His hands were still cradling her face as if she were something fragile—something precious. His usual sharp gaze was softer now, almost uncertain, but there was something firm in the way he held her.

“I don’t know what love is supposed to feel like,” he admitted, his voice low and honest. “But I know that when you’re not around, I don’t like it. And when you are, I feel… lighter. Like I actually want to be better.”

YN’s heart pounded against her ribs, her breath catching at his words.

“I want to stay with you,” he continued, his thumbs brushing against her cheeks. “If this is what love is, then let it be.”

Her eyes widened slightly, emotions swirling inside her. He was never the type to say things without meaning them, never the type to hesitate. And yet, here he was, standing in front of her, vulnerable and real.

She felt warmth bloom in her chest, something overwhelming yet comforting. Her hands slowly reached up, resting over his.

“Then let it be,” she whispered back, her lips curling into the softest of smiles.

Jongho exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath this whole time. He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes for a second, just taking in the moment.

Neither of them needed to say anything more. They had already said everything that mattered.

After his confession, YN quickly realized one thing—Jongho was insanely clingy. Not in the physical sense, no. He wasn’t the type to smother her with hugs in public or demand constant attention. But mentally? Emotionally? He was all over her.

Her phone never knew peace.

Jongho: Where are you?

Jongho: Why aren’t you answering?

Jongho: You’re not dead, right?

Jongho: Hanni said you left the library 15 minutes ago. Where are you now?

And if she didn’t respond fast enough? Oh, he’d find a way. One time, he literally called Hanni when YN ignored his messages during a movie marathon.

“You’re ignoring my texts,” he accused when she finally picked up.

“I was watching a movie,” she sighed.

“Oh,” he paused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because… it’s a movie?”

“Tell me next time.”

YN groaned, but deep down, she found it cute—annoying, but cute.

Another time, she was just grabbing a coffee on campus, and before she could even sit down, she received a message:

Jongho: You didn’t tell me you were going to the café.

She blinked. Looked around. And there he was, sitting at a distance, sipping his own drink while watching her like a hawk.

She marched up to him. “Are you spying on me?”

He raised an eyebrow, completely unbothered. “I was here first. You should’ve told me you were coming.”

YN threw her hands up. “I didn’t know I needed permission to get coffee!”

“You don’t,” he said smoothly, “but if you told me, I would’ve gotten your order ready.”

And the worst part? He actually did. Because as she was about to go order, the barista handed her a drink. “Your boyfriend already paid for it.”

Jongho just shrugged at her bewildered expression, sipping his own coffee like nothing happened.

Yeah. He was absolutely clingy. But the way he looked after her, worried for her, cared for her in ways she didn’t even realize she needed?

She wouldn’t change it for the world.

You could never stay mad at him. No matter how much he annoyed you with his endless messages, his possessiveness, or his constant need to know where you were—one look at his big, boba-like eyes, and you were done for.

And he knew it.

That slight smile he had whenever he looked at you? It was because he knew you couldn’t resist him.

Whenever you pouted at him, complaining about how clingy he was, he’d just chuckle, pull you into one of his signature big bear hugs, and squeeze you tight. You always acted like you wanted to escape, but deep down, you never really tried.

And when you were alone? Oh, Jongho had no shame.

He’d squish your cheeks, stretching them like you were some kind of stress toy. “Why are you so cute, huh?” he’d mutter, poking at your puffed-up cheeks.

“Jongho, stop—”

Squish.

“Jongho!”

Squish.

And the moment you’d glare at him, trying to act serious, he’d just lean in and kiss you, completely ignoring your protests.

“Yah—”

Another kiss.

“Stop—”

Another.

And by the time you finally gave up, he’d smirk, pressing one last kiss to your forehead. “You talk too much sometimes.”

But you couldn’t even be mad. Not when he was him. Your annoying, possessive, clingy, yet completely lovable Jongho.

Though you and Jongho never officially announced your relationship at college, he made it clear as day that he was yours—and that you were his.

And he had his ways of making sure everyone knew.

Jongho had always been intimidating, but after you two got together, his death glares became ten times worse. If a guy so much as looked at you for too long, Jongho would lock eyes with them from across the room. No words needed—just a single, cold stare, and the poor guy would scurry away like a frightened puppy.

Hanni once joked, "You don't need a security system, girl. Just let Jongho sit outside your dorm and scare people away."

Jongho wasn’t big on PDA, but when it came to making a statement, he had his own subtle ways. A hand on your lower back when guiding you through a crowd. A strong arm thrown over the back of your chair when another guy was getting too friendly. Holding onto the strap of your bag like it was a leash when you were walking together, just so he could keep you close.

The message was clear: Don’t even think about it.

His friends suffered the most. Jongho was always bringing you up in conversation, even when it wasn’t relevant.

“Jongho, pass me the notes.”

"YN already explained it to me. You should ask her—she’s smarter than all of us.”

"Jongho, do you want to come to the gym later?"

"Nah, I'm meeting YN. She gets grumpy if she doesn’t see me enough."

"Jongho, stop flexing your relationship, man—"

"I’m not flexing. I just have a girlfriend who happens to be better than yours."

“…None of us have girlfriends.”

"Exactly.”

The moment that really sealed it?

One day, some guy—clearly new to the college—had the audacity to flirt with you in the cafeteria. Nothing serious, just casual small talk.

Jongho, who had been sitting a few tables away, calmly stood up, strolled over, and without a word, took the spoon from your hand and ate your food from your spoon and even drank water from your cup.

You nearly choked.

The guy looked confused. Hanni was losing her mind in the background. Jongho? He just stared down at the poor guy, smirking slightly.

"Oh, were you saying something?" sitting down, he asked, his voice low and smooth, his arm resting on the back of your chair.

The guy got the message.

Jongho had never been the type to update his Instagram often. His feed was mostly filled with scenic shots—sunsets, cityscapes, the occasional black-and-white aesthetic post. He rarely posted selfies, let alone anything personal.

But now? Now his Instagram was practically a shrine dedicated to you.

It started subtly. A blurry candid of you sipping coffee at a café, captioned: “Not the coffee, just the person.”

Then came the next one—a picture of you reading in the library, chin resting on your palm, completely unaware of the photo being taken. “Genius girlfriend era.”

And then it became a habit.

— A mirror selfie of him at the gym… with you in the background, struggling with a dumbbell. “She’s trying.”

— A plate of food with your hands reaching for it. “I don’t get to eat in peace anymore.”

— A side-profile shot of you laughing. No caption. Just a red heart emoji.

Jongho wasn’t dumb. He knew there were girls lurking in his DMs, waiting for an opening. So he made sure they saw exactly why they had no chance.

Every post? Tagged @yn2001. Every story? Tagged @yn2001. Even in the comments, when someone asked, “Where’s this?”, he’d reply, “With @yn2001.”

Even his bio, which had previously been empty, now had:

“Taken. @yn2001.”

One day, he posted a picture of your intertwined hands, your fingers laced together on top of his lap. No faces, no explanation—just that.

And the caption?

"Mine.”

The DMs? Silent. The message? Loud and clear.

You were never the type to crave attention. Growing up, you had learned to blend into the background, to be self-sufficient. No one had ever really gone out of their way to make you feel special.

But Jongho? He changed everything.

The way he made it so obvious that you were his. How he walked beside you, making sure you were always safe. How his arm would find its way around your shoulders in crowded hallways. How he’d subtly block anyone who got too close.

The Instagram posts were one thing, but it was the little things that made you feel like a princess.

Like when he casually handed you his hoodie when you complained it was cold—without a word, just draping it over you like it was second nature. Or when he adjusted the straps of your bag because “It’s too loose, you’ll hurt your shoulder.”

Or how he always paid attention. If you so much as mentioned craving something, you’d find it mysteriously appearing in your dorm the next day. Kinder Joy? There. Your favorite drink? Waiting for you in class.

And the way he looked at you.

Like you were the most precious thing in the world.

For the first time in your life, you were someone’s priority. And you loved it.

The winter air was biting as you arrived at Jongho’s apartment for the night. He had asked you so politely—almost shyly—that you couldn’t say no.

After dinner, which you cooked while he hovered behind you like a baby bear, occasionally wrapping his arms around your waist or resting his chin on your shoulder, you both settled in for the night.

Jongho sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone while you went to do your skincare routine in the bathroom. You were halfway through when you felt his presence at the door.

"What are you even doing?" he asked, arms crossed as he watched you pat a serum onto your face.

"Skincare," you replied, giving him a pointed look.

He scoffed. "Looks like sorcery to me."

You rolled your eyes and grabbed an extra headband, walking over to him. "Sit."

He raised an eyebrow. "No way."

"You asked me to stay over. This is part of the deal," you said with a smirk.

With a grumble, he let you pull him onto the bathroom stool. You pushed back his hair with the headband, suppressing a giggle at how unexpectedly adorable he looked with it on.

"Don't laugh," he muttered, glaring.

"I'm not!"

You squeezed some cleanser onto your hands and started rubbing it into his face. He blinked rapidly at the sudden sensation, grabbing your wrist.

"What the hell—"

"Relax, big guy. Just let it happen."

He huffed, but let you continue. His face was surprisingly soft under your fingertips, and for a moment, you were lost in the closeness of it. Jongho, however, was glaring at his reflection.

"Feels weird," he grumbled.

You chuckled. "You’ll thank me later when your skin is glowing."

After washing off the cleanser, you moved on to toner and serum, explaining each step. Jongho just sat there, staring at you with those soft, unreadable eyes.

"What?" you asked.

"Nothing," he mumbled, looking away.

But his ears were red.

By the time you finished with moisturizer, he was pouting. "Feels sticky."

You flicked his forehead. "Beauty is pain."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t stop you when you applied lip balm on him, his lips parting slightly at the contact.

"All done," you declared, stepping back to admire your work.

Jongho looked at himself in the mirror, rubbing his face slightly. "Huh… not bad."

"Told you."

He turned to you, a sly grin forming. "So if I have good skin now, does that mean I get more kisses?"

You gaped at him, heat rushing to your cheeks. "Jongho!"

But he was already pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled into you.

"Thanks, princess," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

And just like that, your heart was gone.

You sighed, sitting on the edge of Jongho’s bed, your fingers idly playing with the hem of your oversized sweatshirt. He had just finished brushing his teeth, stepping into the room with his usual confident ease. His damp hair was slightly tousled, and his sharp eyes softened when they landed on you.

He tilted his head, noticing your hesitation. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated for a moment before sighing. “I sleep weird.”

Jongho blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “What do you mean weird?”

“I mean…” You sighed again, fidgeting with your hands. “I move a lot in my sleep. I might—” You glanced at him briefly before looking away. “I might throw my leg over you. Or shove my feet under yours. Or, you know, hug you.” You rubbed the back of your neck. “I don’t want to disturb you.”

For a second, he just stared at you before a small, amused scoff left his lips. “That’s it? I thought you were about to say something serious.”

You frowned. “It is serious.”

He crossed his arms, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “What, you think I’m gonna throw you off the bed?”

“No, but—”

“You can do whatever you want. It won’t bother me.”

That was a lie. Jongho never liked being hugged in his sleep. He never liked people clinging to him or invading his space while he rested. It had always felt suffocating, and he never hesitated to shove someone off if they got too close.

But you? You were different.

So when you eventually curled up beside him, shifting in your sleep and unconsciously draping your arm over his waist, he didn’t push you away. When your leg tangled with his, searching for warmth, he let it be. And when, in your sleep, you tucked your cold feet under his, he only let out a small huff, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.

What surprised him the most was the way he naturally responded. Without thinking, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer. His hand found the curve of your waist, his thumb absentmindedly stroking small circles into your skin through the fabric of your sweatshirt.

You sighed in content, unconsciously burrowing into his chest. Jongho glanced down at you, his lips twitching at the sight of you so comfortably nestled against him.

If it were anyone else, he would’ve been annoyed, but with you…

With you, he found himself pressing a lazy, almost absentminded kiss to your forehead before resting his chin atop your head.

Yeah. He loved this.

Divider from @/cafekitsune

[stxrysnow]

— for the season i like is a short thing, it melted away without me noticing.

contents. satoru gojo x gn!reader. fluff. (to) angst.

★ jiah’s notes. listening to for lovers again was(n’t) a good idea. yeah, uh, anyways.

winter caresses satoru’s skin, and he can only close his eyes. just this once, he thinks to himself. just this once, and i’ll open them again.

although the chill seeped into his bones and rattled against his lungs, satoru adored it— the hands that touched his face and the lips that peppered little kisses across his neck where his scarf was a bit loose.

(satoru adores this little feeling that makes him feel.)

it made him alive, this dance that the frost’s outstretched hand had started. it hummed into his ears and made his lips twitch into a soft grin; it ruffled his hair and laughed when his steps faltered on the snow and he nearly fell over.

(winter was warmer than summer could ever be.)

“you comin’ or are you just gonna laugh?” he calls out, azure eyes crinkled with amusement when he watches you waddle your way through the snow. “c’mon, darling. you can’t be that slow. the mochi shop’s ages away!”

“not . . not everyone has street lights for legs, unfortunately,” oh, you look so loveable like this, face flushed and your nose doing the tiny scrunch it always did when you were annoyed, “can’t you wait just a little, satoru?”

(wait, satoru. you need to wait.)

satoru tilts his head, and you feel your cheeks burn a little more.

“i’ve been waiting for ages, though,” this bastard. “you wouldn’t want to keep your lovely lamp post ’toru waiting for too long, would you?”

he knows exactly what he’s doing— you know better than to fall for the pout on his face and the faux miserable look in his eyes. of course you do— the tiny smirk doesn’t go unnoticed by your sharp scrutiny. it is what, in the end, always betrays his feigned innocence. always.

(it makes you feel a little more warm, despite the cold cutting through your nose to force its way inside.)

“oh, shut up,” you grumble, ignoring the delighted wriggle of his eyebrows when you walk past him, “lovely lamp post? more like lamentable lamp post.”

“okay, that’s a good one,” satoru’s arms wrap around you from behind whilst he hums, chin on your head, “you really know how to bite back, don’t you?”

a large hand ruffles your hair, messing it up even more so— a masterpiece of the frost and his own doing.

(at least to him, anyway. although, he can’t deny the tiny, happy flip his heart does when you grumble.)

“ ’course i do,” a roll of your eyes and he’s huffing out a laugh again, “learnt from the best.”

“well, at least you acknowledge me being the best,” he replies airily, and you tilt your head up to stare at him with a question mark on your face. “that’s enough for me, baby.”

your gaze softens.

(enough for him.)

satoru’s eyes close when you reach up to press your lips against his chin.

(it lingers on his skin to haunt him forever.)

satoru’s still dancing with the cold. his steps are languid and unhurried, with wispy arms around his neck and your breath against his chin— none to watch but frozen memories and the ashes of what burnt so fiercely in the chilly wind.

ashes which melt away, bleeding all over the snow and rotting in the back of his mind.

(that’s enough for me, he thinks, as his steps slow down, eyes opening as he feels the performance nears its end. always is.)

satoru adores this little feeling that makes him feel, even if only its corpse is left behind.

@stxrysnow on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works without my permission.