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oreo-creampies · 3 months ago

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𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐢𝐧’, 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧’ 𝐧’ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: high!reader, satosugu au, cocksucking/face-fucking/pussy-eating, double pentration (same hole/no anal), heavy heavy praise/teasing, confessions, heavy overstimulation, mindbreak, squirting, dacryphilia, begging, creampie, satoru sucks on the mix of cum that suguru scoops out of your cunt, cervix fucking, letting wine trickle into your mouth with a kiss/licking wine off of you, first time with the reader, size kink, satosugu in an established relationship (they had talked about their feelings with each other for you previously/Satoru has talked to you and set something up for suguru’s b-day), bdsm sex room, bondage (with long silk ribbon instead of rope), suguru is blindfolded temporarily, biting, spanking

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞! 3.1k/11 minutes

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: HI PRETTY;!! today marks geto suguru's birthday iirc (3rd of February), so could this nonnie pretty please with a cherry ontop request something, anything that involves his birthday!! :3 bonus points if Satoru's being a tease to him all the way through ♡♡ can be smutty or fluffy according to your own fantasies, author!

Oreo: thank you anon for reminding me about his b day it straight slipped my mind! 🫶🏽

Satoru leads Suguru towards you, long blue ribbons wrap around your chest, and waist, binding your arms behind your back. Your legs are free, unable to touch the floor. A small bullet vibrator is pulsing on your soft, sensitive clit. Your cunt is dripping wet, your body is trembling, and you can't stop moaning.

Satoru reminds you, “Don't speak yet gorgeous you’ll ruin it.” Suguru’s cheek, stopping Suguru close to your bound body. Satoru glides two long, thick fingers in with a loud squelch. “You can moan all you want sweetheart.” Satoru pumps his fingers faster, stroking your sweet spot.

Satoru lets go of Suguru, leaving him standing with a blindfold on and his hard cock hanging. There is a thick white pre-cum beading up on the tip of his cock. He remarks, “She sounds sexy, looks like we don't have to gag this one.”

“I had a feeling you’ll like how she’s sounds. Best birthday gift we’ve given in years.”

“We?”

“You'll see.”

Satoru admires your soft cunt stretching for his thick fingers. “I wanna be able to hear you when I close my eyes and touch myself.” Satoru glides his fingers out, smearing your slick on Suguru’s lips.

Suguru takes Satoru’s fingers into his mouth, licking and sucking with a loud groan. Till Satoru glides them out. “She tastes so good, I want more, lemme eat her out.” He reaches for the blindfold when Satoru gently grabs his wrist.

Satoru spits twice into his palm smearing it cover Suguru. Lowering Suguru’s hand as he drops his head back, softly sighing. “Fuck, love your hand is so damn soft.” Satoru lets him go, and closing the small space. Grinding his hips rubbing their cocks together.

Satoru looks down at the soft smile of lustful bliss on Suguru’s lips. “I'll let you take this off if you let me give you something first. It’s your birthday.” He slips Suguru’s blindfold off, tossing it aside.

Satoru steps aside to let Suguru see you. “We indeed, princess your trembling, how many times have you cummed? Let’s see if he can guess.” Satoru hugs Suguru from behind with one arm. Grabbing Suguru’s thick, heavy cock, slowly gliding his fingers over his head, smearing Suguru’s thick pre-cum.

You moan, “Lost count! It feels good! I want more! Want something to split my cunt open.” The veins in Suguru’s cock pulse with his heartbeat racing.

Satoru pumps his swirling fist faster. “Helped her get high as fuck before tying her up. Left her with a vibrator on her clit, which is why she left the party a little early and why I spent so long in the bathroom.” He kisses Suguru’s shoulder, then bites.

Suguru moans, grinding his ass into Satoru’s cock. “Both of you will be forgiven if you let me do what I want.” Satoru grabs Suguru’s hair and tugs.

He protests, “But it’s your birthday!” Satoru slowly swipes his thumb over Suguru’s head. “Lemme suck you off, you can watch her cum, that vibrator is not going anywhere.” Satoru gets on his knees in front of Suguru, looking up at him, holding his cock up. His head close to Satoru’s lips.

“You look beautiful staring up at me like that.” Suguru grabs Satoru’s hair. “How’s about you suck my cock in between me stuffing it in her cunt?” He nudges Satoru’s lips then glides his cock deep into Satoru’s soft, warm wet mouth.

You can't string the words together, “Nnn fuck! Gonna! Nn! It feels!” Your soft cunt is squirting thick clear cum, writhing in the blue ribbon, your thighs trembling, your loud moans feeling the room.

You whine, “Too much! Wanna cum! Too muuuch!" Thick tears trickle down your face, and your cunt is dripping, adding to the puddle.

Satoru grabs Suguru’s thighs, digging his nails in. Suguru lets up, gliding his cock out and giving Satoru a moment to breathe.

Suguru remarks, “Our beautiful princess is obliterated n’ so fuckin’ wet. It’s been two hours! You’re so mean to her but fuck this is the best birthday gift y'all could have given me.” Suguru holds Satoru’s head still, his thick cock in Satoru’s throat, his nose touching Suguru’s short dark hair.

Slowly Suguru glides his cock out of Satoru’s mouth. Spit drips down Satoru’s chin, tears trickling down his face. “Crying from choking on my cock this easily? You’re such a pretty mess.” He smacks Satoru’s cheek with his heavy cock.

Satoru grabs his cock and trails soft kisses along him. He looks up at him with bright blue eyes. “Says the one getting off on it. Isn't that right daddy? You always like makin' me cry, make me beg to cum while my cock is drooling pre-cum.” Satoru quickly glides Suguru into his throat, gagging.

Suguru groans, tightening his grasp on Satoru’s hair. Keeping Satoru’s head still Suguru decides, “You less annoying with my dick in your throat.”

You cry, “Fuck!” The toy on your clit is becoming too much. You rub your thighs together; do nothing to move the vibrator off your clit. “Please! Please! Please!” Suguru glides his cock out of Satoru’s throat and steps around him. Leaving him on his knees trying to steady his breath.

Suguru turns off the toy, giving you instant relief and frustration. “Wanna be touched. Please! Wanna cum! But I'm tired of the toy!” Suguru gently takes the tape off, and you tense up, wincing from the soft stinging.

He tosses the toy onto the nearby bed. Then looks down at you, the admiration in his eyes has you feeling beautiful and desirable. “Poor sweet, beautiful mama. he gave you a lot didn't he, left you tied up in our sex room and made me think you left early.” He kisses your sensitive, puffy clit. You can feel your pulse in your clit. Going from the intense stimulation to no at all is unbearable.

Suguru grabs your thigh, holding it up, gliding one thick, long finger into you, softly pressing his thumb on your throbbing clit. You tense up, the pleasure is boarding on pain. He croons, “So sore and sensitive, the sudden lack of stimulation must be unbearable." He keeps his finger and thumb still.

You moan, "It is! Your hand feels wonderful, I love it when you touch me." His hands are slightly rougher and bigger than Satoru's.

Suguru wonders, "Are you sure you want more? I can take you down, clean you up, cuddle you close. keep my hand on your cunt. We can possibly let Satoru cuddle us." Satoru turns around on his knees and grabs Suguru’s hips then bites his ass.

Suguru jolts, his knees momentarily buckling before regaining the strength. He reaches back and grabs Satoru’s hair, “Damn brat.” He pulls Satoru off of his ass, pulling him up to his side. Causing Satoru to quickly move on his knees.

Suguru glares at Satoru who proudly smiles up at him. He wraps his hand around Suguru's cock slowly pumping his fist. "Do you want Suguru's fat cock in you?" Suguru lets go of Satoru's hair.

Satoru leans in and licks your dripping wet hole. You groan, "Fuck me please do what you want." You wrap your leg around Suguru's waist pulling him closer. Suguru stops you from closing the space completely. Gliding in another finger stretching you out.

Satoru pulls away, then sucks on Suguru's balls. Suguru groans, "He's such a fuckin' whore, now he can bother you more and me a little less. Welcome to the gojo problem."

Satoru pulls away from Suguru's balls and exclaims, "Hey I'm a delight."

"Sometimes."

"Occasionally a menace but you're our menace. It can be charming."

Suguru kisses your forehead then warns, "You're encouraging him."

Satoru stands up and wraps his arms around Suguru’s waist. Resting his head on Suguru’s broad shoulder. "She's right, you love it about me." Suguru's hips lightly buck when Satoru traces along his v-line.

Satoru insists to you, "Tell him sweetheart."

You wonder, “Like this?! Why not after?”

"Why not now?"

Suguru softly cups face. “You’re incredible mama, the color of your nipples, your soft clit, your wet lips.” He leans in, “Tell me princess.”

Your body flushes with a different type of heat. You look away from Suguru's intense gaze, “It’s stupid!” Tilting your head back groaning when Suguru's fingers graze that sweet spot that consumes you with sweet pleasure.

Satoru croons, “Aw you're sexy getting embarrassed while tied up."

Suguru pumps his fingers faster, lightly swiping your clit with his thumb. He gently kisses your cheek, urging you, "Close your eyes and say it beautiful."

You close your eyes and blurt out, “I'm not dating either of you so how can I be in love with you?" Suguru softly kisses you, gliding another finger in. Stretching out and loosening your soft cunt with his thick fingers. Your soft cunt squelches as he fucks three thick fingers into you.

Satoru pulls away from Suguru, moving behind you. Softly squeezes your ass before slapping both cheeks twice. He brings up, "It’s not like you don't already live here, it’s not like we message you good morning and goodnight when you do stay at your place.” He softly plays with your nipples, lightly squeezing, pulling, and massaging between two fingers.

Suguru adds, “Taking you on our dates, putting you in the middle. It chases off anyone that wants to flirt with you, we’ve been so damn obvious." He flicks, pinches, and twists your soft nipples.

You cry into Suguru's sweet, soft kiss. Suguru focuses on your sweet spot. Your soft cunt clenches his thick fingers. You're so close, getting off on the sweet pain as much as the overwhelming pleasure.

Satoru eases up, taunting you, "Aw how badly did that hurt?" He softly massages your aching nipples. Pressing his hard cock against your back, slowly rutting his hips. His pre-cum is smearing on your back, soaking into the silk wrapping around your waist.

Suguru glides his fingers out, smearing your slick on his thick cock. Then lines himself up with your soft cunt, lightly nudging his thick cockhead into you. "Fuck your soft cunt looks so beautiful love seeing the way she stretches to take my fat cock."

You moan and tug Suguru forward with your thigh gliding more of his cock into you. Suguru bottoms out and grinds his cock on your cunt, your soft cunt rubbing the soft ridge of his cockhead.

You whine, "Please!" Suguru slowly sinks his cock into you. Watching every inch glide inside your soft lips rubbing his cock. Satoru gets on his knees, groaning as he licks your hole stretching around Suguru's cock.

He kisses Suguru's balls and bites his thighs. Causing Suguru to roughly thrust in you. You whine, "Nnn fuuuck me." Suguru slowly fucks your squelching, warm cunt. His balls hit Satoru's face as he loudly groans. His warm tongue is soft on your cunt and Suguru's cock.

Suguru softly wraps his hand around your throat. "I thought we were too obvious. We haven't gone a single day without seeing you in the past year that we have met you." Satoru bites your ass, slapping your other cheek.

You cry and try to twist your hips away from Satoru. Who moves out from underneath you when he lets go. He grabs your hips and fucks you on Suguru's cock, making you meet Suguru's slow hard thrust faster.

You sheepishly moan, “I thought! Nnn I thought! Both of you were being really friendly.” Satoru rolls his eyes, letting you go and stepping away. His attention shifts to the wine in a bucket of ice.

Suguru lets your throat go, letting him grab your hips. Keeping his rough, hard pace steady. His face looks so beautiful when he is chasing his own pleasure with your cunt.

His soft brown eyes are fiery with an intense passion. His cheek flushing a soft pink, his mouth forming an o.

Satoru rolls his eyes, “Suguru might look sweet, but he is an asshole look at him! He barely tolerates anyone." He pops the wooden top off making Suguru and you jump.

Suguru with his cock in you snaps at Satoru, “I don't want to hear it from the sadistic dick that left her drugged and tied up with a vibrator.” He flips Satoru off who comes over, pouring some of the wine onto your tits soaking you.

Satoru defenses himself with, “I checked up on her when I was going to the bathroom.” He takes a swing then grabs your hair, yanking your head back and kissing you roughly. You part your lips and cool wine trickles in, forcing you to roughly swallow.

Suguru dips his head and licks the wine dripping down your chest. Slowly rolling his hips gliding his cock into you. Satoru pulls away and walks behind you, keeping his grasp on your hair firm.

He tilts the bottle pouring wine. You have to close your eyes and open your mouth Some of it trickles down your chin and neck. Suguru licks it up, wrapping his muscular arm around your waist.

The wine run dry, Satoru slaps your ass and lets your hair go. He walks away with the bottle setting it down on the closest surface.

Suguru groans “You’re so fucking wet, so soft n’ warm, love feeling your soft cunt squeezing my hard cock.” Fucking his thick, veiny cocky into you harder, faster, groaning when your cunt clenched him.

You loudly cry, “Daddy! Harder! Please! Fuck! Right there! Please wanna cum, please.” Suguru cock head is stroke that sweet spot. The pleasure is overwhelming, sweet and addicting making it hard to think.

Satoru comes back cock in hand waiting for Suguru to slow down and move his arm so he can line himself up.

You whine when Suguru stops and Satoru croons, “Don't worry your daddies are gonna help you cum, fill you full of cum, then cuddle you close after we clean you up.” Suguru bites your neck causing you to cry.

Satoru groans gliding his thinner but longer cock in, touching your cervix. The gentle burning ache fades with each of their unevenly thrusts, become toe curling pleasure, you’re so full of their thick, warm cocks.

Their cocks are rubbing together inside of you. Fondling your soft body with their large hands unable to get enough of how you feel. The sweet high makes your pleasure mind-numbing, body-tingling and intense.

It’s like you can't stop cumming. Your cunt is squelching, quivering and dripping wet.

Suguru groans, “You’re our’s! Need to hear you say it princess.” He slips his hand in between swiping your clit with his thumb, watching your cunt. “It’s so fucking sexy that your soft cunt can take both of us. Nnn Satoru’s is longer so my head keeps rubbing right beneath his.”

Satoru moans "It’s pushing me against her cervix, it’s like I might slip through, get deep in her guts.” Fucking you harder, you tense up, your toes curling jaw crying and eyes burning with tears from the sweet pain.

Satoru insists, “Tell our Daddy what he wants to hear, make this the best birthday we could give him." But the words are barely registering with you.

Fat tears trickle down your face. You cry, "Mine! Fuck! Miiiinnnnn! Daddy! Wanna!!”

Satoru breathy chuckle becomes a loud groan. He smirks at Suguru, "Hear that we are her new boyfriends and eventual baby daddies. I wonder if our cum mixes together in her does the dna-" Suguru chokes Satoru, who grabs your other thigh keeping it up, helping them bully your soft cunt with their cocks.

“I love you but shut up.” He pulls him in for a kiss. Your smaller body in between their large, hard muscular chest. You bite Suguru's thick pec as they make out over your head. He groans into Satoru's mouth.

Suguru's veins pulse warm thick cum spurts from his thick cock. He tightens his grasp on your thigh and you let his pec go. Satoru and Suguru break away, Suguru whines, biting his trembling body lip, his big muscular body quivering.

Suguru whines, "Fuck it's too much!" He goes to pull out when Satoru lets your thigh go. You wrap your leg around his waist. Satoru grabs a handful of Suguru's hair.

Satoru slips his hands between squeezing one of Suguru's tits along with pinching your nipple. "Don't pull out yet, wanna keep feeling rubbing our cocks together inside her soft warm soaking wet cunt." He looks down at your face, taking in your cock drunk expression as you rest your head on his chest.

"I can't believe you're our's to hold close, to fuck, to kiss, to say I fuckin' love you too." Satoru leans down for a soft kiss, contrasting his sloppy, rough pace. Suguru's legs are becoming wobbly, the pleasure becoming too much for him.

Suguru hunches over and bites your neck. Grabbing your hip, his thick fingers sinking into your soft hip's crease. He's trying to manage how good it feels to have your soft cunt squeezing him against Satoru's hard cock.

Suguru begs, "Fuck please cum Satoru." Satoru lets your sore nipple go, pulling Suguru in close crushing you with Suguru's chest.

He demands, "Wanna hear you both call me daddy."

"Please cum daddy!" Overlaps with,

"Wanna feel you cum daddy!" Satoru cum is thicker, tricking out of his cock when he's only half in you. He roughly stuff his cock in deeper, grinding his hips, rubbing his cockhead against your cervix. Pushing his cum in deeper with Suguru's.

"Happy birthday handsome." Suguru quickly bottoms out and stumbles over to the nearby bed where he collapses. Suguru stares up at the ceiling mirror, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

You slur, "Appybirrday!" Suguru dryly chuckles, sitting up slowly. Admiring your tired, tied up the body with Satoru's cock in your soft cunt.

He softly smiles. "Both of you are beautiful." He stands up as Satoru slowly pulls his cock out. Together they carefully untie you, softly scattering kisses on your thighs, stomach, tits, ass, and cunt.

Satoru cradles your soft body to his chest, he kisses your forehead. Suguru kisses your cheek, "Let's get clean and fall asleep cuddling. I want her soft cheeks on my cock while I fall asleep." Suguru dips his thick fingers into your soft cunt scooping out a mix of cum which he stuffs into Satoru’s mouth.

He groans “Fuck that tastes so good.” Following Suguru to the bedroom. Where Suguru gets the shower started and Satoru sets you down on the toilet to use it.

When you try to stand your legs quickly give before you can even fully make get on your feet. Satoru grabs his hips, and croons, "Aw can't walk princess?" He bends over, holding his finger up next to his face. "Whose help do you need?" He softly taps the tip of your nose.

"Please carry me around and help me get cleaned up."

Satoru wiggles his finger, "No I wanna hear you say we are yours again." Suguru nudges him to the side and picks you up.

He insists to Satoru, "Stop holding her hostage." He sticks his bottom lip out in a pout. Following Suguru and You into the large shower. Where Suguru holds you to him underneath the warm shower.

Satoru wraps his arm around both of you. He whines, "You're no fun! I just wanna tease our princess a little."

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moyazaika · 3 months ago

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housewife syndrome

yandere! rockstar x fem! reader

cw; possessive + obsessive behaviour, severe mental instability, paranoia, anxiety, violence, heavy nsfw themes, mdni 18+

genie's notes; commissioned piece by a very sweet anon ♡ thank you so much for trusting me with this absolutely stunning idea. i’ve always been a fan of domestic horror, especially of the spiralling housewife variety, so it was fun to explore a new dynamic and fresh writing style. <3

"welcome home, sweetheart!" the television runs on low volume in the background as you greet your husband with a knowing smile. you run through the motions as you always do, make sure to ask with the most innocence you can muster, "how was your day?"

feroze can make out the sound of gallant applause that indicates you'd been watching reruns of last night's award ceremony.

"such a fucking drag." your husband pulls you into his arms, buries his head into the crook of your neck with a long, satisfied sigh and takes his sweet, sweet time to breathe you in. "couldn't fucking wait to come home to you, meri jaan."

his answer remains the same as it is every other day, and you can't help but smile against his lips when he pulls you in to steal a little kiss; you sigh into his mouth, and feroze is so fucking overwhelmed by gratitude for the familiarity and comfort of this little routine the two of you have seemed to settle down into so well.

"i love when you call me that," you confess; my life.

you know just as well as him that, well—it wasn't always this easy.

"yeah," feroze hums. "i know you do, baby."

you weren't always so lovely for him, were you?

you're quiet.

though the two of you are sitting across from each other at the dining table, your attention is clearly elsewhere. conversation is slow, if not stagnant. it's a far cry from how talkative you usually are; and though he would never fucking admit it, least of all to you, he worries, for a fraction of a second, that things are slipping.

"meri jaan?" he sets down his fork very carefully, reaches for your hands over the table.

you blink, pulled away from wherever you'd been lost in your mind and back down to this moment that stretches on before you.

"oh, sorry, my love. what was that?"

feroze watches your eyes quietly track the movement of his fingers, sliding over your wrists, lingering, momentarily, on your pulse—nice and steady—before they intertwine with your own.

your gaze lands on him, then, expectant. he drags his thumb over your knuckles, glad to find they're soft; unmarred by any labour. he loves having you here, tucked away within the walls of this home he built just for you, away from the rest of the rotten world.

such a darling girl like you deserves to have everything taken care of for you. as far as he's concerned, the only thing on your mind should be him.

which is why the silence is beginning to irritate him, now. he's not really upset with you, doesn't have a reason to be, just yet—he's just wondering what it is you're so focused on. where do you keep going back to in that head of yours, and why aren't you here with him?

is this where it all falls apart?

—again?

"rosy?" you try. "is everything alright?"

"yeah," feroze's hazel eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, endearingly patient. "i just wanted to know how your day was."

"ugh, don't remind me." you stick your tongue out. "it was so boring. i woke up so late today and didn't really do anything interesting."

"shit, i'm sorry to hear that, baby."

your husband nods towards the television, still playing from inside the living room across the hall; the screen's bright colours reflect against the glass windows that take up half the wall. though the program is muted, he can still hear the echoes from the cacophony of applause ringing loud and true.

the four hour program's been running on loop on some of the smaller channels, and you really seem to enjoy tuning in, he's noticed.

it would be more difficult not to notice this new habit of yours, really. because if he's been counting right, this is the seventh time you've seen the whole thing through to the end.

"seems like you were at least watching the music thing again."

"well, when my stunning husband won half of the awards," you shrug coyly. "how could i not?"

"flattery won't get you anywhere," feroze deigns, though neither of you mention the involuntary curl to his lips as they lift into a small, self-satisfied smile.

"huh, that's strange," you frown, pull your hands away from his own and make a show of examining the elaborately stacked engagement ring and marital band wrapped around your finger. "if i seem to remember correctly, flattery is exactly what got me this ring."

"oh," he laughs. "is that so?"

"uhuh," you nod, still admiring the rings. they're big and they're flashy and there's no fucking chance anyone could ever miss the sight of them; make the mistake of misunderstanding what they mean. you're so obviously his, and fuck, it suits you so perfectly to belong to him.

i love you, he thinks fiercely. i fucking love you.

"you've got an ego, rosy." your knowing gaze flickers back to him, accompanied by a teasing smile. "bit of a praise kink, too."

"and yet, darling wife," he'll never tire of calling you that; never really overcome the thrill that overwhelms him when he sees you adorned in the markers of his devotion and tucked away all safe and sound. "you're the only person whose words mean anything to me."

"ohh, is that so?" you taunt, "whatever happened to 'flattery won't get you anywhere?'"

feroze takes in the sight of you. you're dressed casual, donned in a baggy old shirt and a pair of his softest sweats hanging low off your hips. comfortable in your own home, as you should fucking feel, you have no makeup on, and your hair is unkempt; overdue for a shower; but fuck if he cares.

feroze decides, within a moment, that he needs you—

now.

"come here, meri jaan. i'll show you."

"you greedy, greedy man," you chastise lightly, rising from your seat. "i've just fed you dinner and you're still salivating at my table."

feroze watches you make the small effort of pushing your chair in, before turning on your heel. you pause in the doorway for a second, spare him a knowing glance over your shoulder; "well? aren't you hungry, darling husband?"

he knows that none of it evades you; the nervous bob of his adam's apple as he swallows. the way his fingers are digging into the edge of the table to keep from sinking inside of you right here. his heart is racing; his pants are tight. though you're so willing to be his now, he remembers it wasn't always this easy.

"my love." feroze grits out, "i'm fucking starving."

you disappear into the hallway, mellifluous laughter like the loveliest song, echoing off the walls—inside of his head, for fuck's sake—as your husband follows faithfully behind you when you lead him into the bedroom.

dinner goes cold on the table. you never touched your plate.

upstairs, minutes later, your husband bottoms out inside of the welcoming warmth of your sweet cunt, just as your fingers brush against the butcher's knife tucked right underneath your pillow.

feroze gets you to come twice before he decides he has his fill. he's rummaging through your nightstand for the contraceptives he knows you keep in there. it's got less to do with what he wants and more to do with what he believes is best for the two of you.

it's not that he doesn't want children; he dreams of them often. a little baby swaddled in the softest fabrics, wrapping its entire hand around just one of his fingers. the sound of a second pair of footsteps excitedly running down the hall every time he comes home from the studio, from tour. something more to take care of. to keep you busy.

but your husband knows you.

and though he's always been selfish, he can't risk kids until—well, until he knows you won't try to kill them.

it's taken you years to accept him. he won't undo that.

feroze, so caught up in his thoughts, only really registers the blade until it's slicing into his skin, the sharp edge of it pressing against the side of his neck with just enough pressure to draw blood.

he is disappointed, though by no means surprised, to find you on the other end wielding the knife.

he turns to face you, abandoning his search. you're holding onto the hilt of your makeshift weapon with trembling hands, and though he's suddenly overcome by exhaustion—because, baby, how many more times are you going to pull this—an involuntary shiver runs down his spine at the sight nonetheless.

"jaan," he tries to reason with you in hushed tones; oh, love. "what are you doing?"

you dig the knife in just a little deeper, and he winces; "i hate you, feroze." the words sting, though the relative lack of conviction they’re laced with serves as a promising sign of reconciliation.

"i know, baby. can you please just put the knife down so we can talk like adults?"

he glimpses the almost imperceptible change immediately.

the lines of hesitation on your face; a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. when your hold on the weapon looses just the tiniest fraction of an inch, he wastes no time in gently but firmly prying the knife from out of your trembling hands; tosses it underneath the bed where it lands out of your reach.

he’s getting better at this. gets through to you so much sooner than he used to.

you’re listening, now, aren’t you?

the thought of it makes him oddly proud.

"there we go," feroze says. you're still shaking, and though he wants so fucking desperately to pull you closer and console you—he's learnt to tread the waters carefully in times like these. you're evidently scared. obviously upset with him. he can give you a little room to breathe. “now do you want to use your words and talk to me properly?”

“i keep rewatching the awards show. every other winner had someone there with them. some girlfriend or wife they kissed before they went on stage. you’re the only one who—” you swallow, voice wavering. “i’m the only one who wasn’t there. i’m the only one who’s kept hidden away.”

“you don’t want to show me off.” the tears fall almost immediately. “you’re ashamed of me.”

there are millions of words in the english language, and millions more in his own. he’s put into words every fleeting feeling you’ve made him feel; spun both the most magnificent and mundane of emotions into beautiful songs and compelling lyrics and composed entire albums from nothing—and yet, somehow, in this moment all of it evades him.

"i spend all day stuck here w-waiting for you to come home, and when you do—i keep thinking about all those ceremonies and galas and parties you go to, rooms i can never follow you into—and i hate you. i hate you for how much you hate me—”

“i’m sorry,” feroze’s hands run up your spine, to lightly curl his fingers around the back of your neck. he tilts your head up so that you’re meeting his gaze; leaves you nowhere to look away, “meri jaan.”

his touch is so soft and so, so cold against your skin. you've always run warmer than him; but he thinks you might be burning up right now. maybe you've got a fever; or maybe you're just this delirious even without one. it doesn't fucking matter, doesn't change anything.

“i’m sorry for ever leaving you alone long enough to even think that. let me make it up to you. let me show you how much i adore you. let me build you back up again.”

“you can’t fix this,” you whisper.

he smiles, but it’s strange; doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “so you said the last time.”

hours later, you’re less of a sobbing wreck when he’s got you perched in his lap, and all curled up under his chin. “okay… then…” you sniff. your words are somewhat muffled as you bury your face into your husband’s chest. “i’m sorry, too. i didn’t mean to hurt you, rosy. i was just scared, i-i promise.”

"i know.” his knuckles wipe away the tears drying on your cheeks. “give me a kiss, please.”

and ever the sweet wife, you do; but your lips are trembling.

fuck, that’s—

shit.

—not going to work, is it?

with a gentle but firm hand, he pushes you down onto the bed and watches you land on your back amidst the dozens of pillows that decorate the bed. even then, the softest thing here is you. he forgets that, sometimes. let this be a lesson, he thinks to himself, to keep your fragility in mind. this is only further proof that you need him more than he'd even realised.

but you picked the right man, didn’t you? because none of that scares him.

the two of you have faced far more difficult times together; this is just a little hiccup in your life as a married couple. some story you’ll look back on and laugh about, when you’re all better.

so when you look up at him with wide, wet eyes and ask, "its just—can you promise me you still love me one more time?”

feroze regards you closely. you’re so beautiful. so fucking perfect that it overwhelms him. sometimes, he wishes you could see yourself the way that he sees you. though he’s always believed that may just scare you; knowing how deep his devotion really runs. things are fine as they are now.

well, mostly.

he has decided that he will retire from music completely, but the two of you can broach that topic when you’re in a better headspace for it. it’s been a long time coming. work keeps the money coming in, and he wants to spoil you but—he wants you to be happy, above all. you don’t really know what you’re asking for right now, but he has every intention of giving you exactly what it is you wished for.

he can’t give in when you beg to come along with him—but he can come and hide away next to you in this little pocket of the world that solely belongs to the two of you.

"you drive me to madness, my love. nothing about this life means anything if i can’t keep you happy.”

the two of you never had a white wedding; because he wanted to honour your union the right way and celebrate you as his culture deigned. so, yes, he never got to read you any vows, but he'd like to think you've come to know him well enough to understand he doesn't necessarily need to say something so sacred out loud for it to hold true.

"do you understand? i love you," he lowers his forehead against yours. “till death does us apart.”

you put your heart in his hands one more time, looking so small, so vulnerable beneath him. "you promise?"

"i promise," he closes his eyes and revels in the soft, sweeping feeling of your lashes fluttering against his own. "always and forever, meri jaan."

feroze loves you, of this he's certain.

he also knows that you fucking terrify him.

it's a small price to pay, if it means keeping you—

besides, he thinks, reaching once more for the contraceptive pills on the nightstand.

—marriage is all about compromise, is it not?

#feroze #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #male yandere #yandere male x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x willing reader #male yandere x you #male yandere x y/n #male yandere x darling #yandere male x you #commission

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godricgryffinsnore · 1 month ago

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helloooo if your you’re taking requests for James Potter i have a REALLYYY long idea and I’m thinking maybe a long story where they are childhood friends and known as the Golden Girl and Boy of Hogwarts. James is quite clingy and touchy with her, so everyone thinks they’re dating. Then, one day, he makes a public, dramatic love confession when he realizes she’s going on a date.

PLEASE PLEASEE feel free to ignore this if its too much💗💗

Just Friends, He Swears ♡ | J.Potter ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

“We were just best friends—until she smiled at someone else and I realized I was one scarf away from staging a public meltdown in the rain.”

pairing : James Potter x fem!reader

summary : A golden boy, a golden girl, and the chaos of being “just friends” when everyone else knows it’s love—except them. A slow-burn Hogwarts rom-com full of tension, longing, and one very dramatic confession in the rain.

warnings : Fluff, Jealousy, Dramatic idiots, Public love confession, Mild language, Secondhand embarrassment. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

della's note : Thank you so much for requesting anon!!! I really appreciate you coming here and sharing your ideas with me <3 Hope you like this!!

word count : 1.5k

navigation <3

banners : @/omi-resources and @/cafekitsune

James Potter met her on the train to Hogwarts in first year, hair wild from the wind, face flushed with excitement, and she had a chocolate frog stuck in her hair. He fell in love right then. Not that he’d admit it. Not even now. Not even when he’s sixteen and she's sitting next to him in the common room with her legs on his lap and his fingers tracing lazy circles into her shin.

They’re best friends. Have been since day one. She’s the only one who can match his chaos, ground his storms, slap him upside the head when he’s being arrogant, and whisper in his ear when he’s too proud to admit he’s scared. They’re Hogwarts’ Golden Pair—he, the adored Quidditch captain with a cocky grin and heart of gold; she, the fierce, loyal, terrifyingly clever girl who laughs at his jokes like he invented the sun.

Everyone thinks they’re dating.

They’re not.

They just… do things like a couple. Sit too close. Touch too much. Argue like they’ve been married for fifty years. She kisses his cheek before every match. He carries her bag to class. Once, he made her a flower crown out of actual magic and then got detention for hexing a Slytherin who called it “soft.”

Sirius once said: “Either snog already or take it to the Room of Requirement and spare the rest of us.”

Lily muttered: “Honestly, it’s like watching two penguins in denial.”

Remus just sipped his tea. He’s smarter than all of them.

But she doesn’t see it. Doesn’t see the way James stares when she’s laughing. Doesn’t feel how he tense-pretends-not-to-be-tense when another boy flirts with her. Doesn’t notice the absolute havoc he descends into when she walks in wearing that stupid Ravenclaw blue scarf—

Wait. That’s not hers.

James squints. “Whose scarf is that?”

She blinks, fiddling with the tassels. “Oh—Aidan gave it to me. The Ravenclaw prefect? I’ve got a date with him this weekend.”

Silence.

Like… actual silence. The kind that makes the room cold even though the fire’s crackling.

James blinks once. Twice.

Then says, louder than necessary: “A date? Like… a romantic one?”

She laughs, tilting her head. “Is there another kind?”

He wants to throw himself out the window.

James does not spiral. He is composed. Collected. A mature young man.

That’s why he definitely doesn’t—

Drag Sirius out of bed at midnight to rant about "Mr. Ravenclaw Bloody Kindness"

Accidentally blow up a pumpkin in Herbology while muttering “he probably says please before kissing her”

Tell Peter he thinks the bloke’s trying too hard to be soft. (“Is that illegal now?” Pete asks. “IT SHOULD BE,” James hisses.)

By Saturday, it’s raining. Of course it is. Because the universe is dramatic. And so is he.

She’s standing near the courtyard fountain, dressed in a skirt he’s definitely never seen and lipstick that’s going to kill him. The scarf’s around her neck, and he wants to rip it off.

He marches toward her like a man possessed. Wet curls in his eyes. Shirt clinging to his chest. The Marauders (plus Lily, Dorcas, Marlene) are trailing behind him like it’s a bloody play.

“Oi!” he yells.

She turns, eyes wide.

“James?”

He kneels. Like a bloody idiot. In the puddles. In the rain. Like she’s leaving him at the altar.

“Don’t go.”

She blinks. “What—?”

“Don’t go on the date.” His voice cracks. Cracks.

“James, why are you—”

“I don’t know!” he nearly shouts, arms flailing. “I don’t know why I feel like I’m dying when you wear his scarf or talk about his stupid kind smile or mention that he reads poetry—WHO EVEN READS POETRY VOLUNTARILY?!”

“You do,” she whispers.

He falters. “I know. But it sounds better when you read it.”

The rain pours harder. Everyone is watching. But it’s just them now.

“James,” she murmurs, confused and stunned and breathless, “why does this matter to you?”

His eyes lock on hers. Desperate. Soft. Possessive.

“I don’t have the words,” he admits. “I just know I need you. Like… air. Like magic. Like my broomstick needs me not to be a dumbass. You’re the one thing I can’t risk losing because I’d never recover. Not really. Not where it counts.”

Her lip trembles. She kneels down with him, the cobblestones digging into her knees, the rain soaking through her skin, their noses inches apart.

“I think…” she whispers, “I think I’ve been in love with you since first year and just thought it was normal to feel like this all the time.”

His breath hitches.

Then she kisses him.

It’s messy. Rain-slick. A little uncoordinated. James makes a sound like someone just gave him oxygen for the first time in weeks.

Behind them:

Sirius: “FINALLY.” Lily: “I’m emotionally unwell.” Remus: “Pay up, Marlene.” Marlene: “I hate love.”

James Potter, now that he is officially your boyfriend, is insufferable.

He always was, of course—hovering over your shoulder during breakfast, twirling your hair during study sessions, slinging an arm around you like it was a reflex. But that was before. That was when he was still pretending he wasn’t in love with you.

Now?

Now he wakes you up with a “Good morning, love of my life, did you dream of me?” every day. He holds your hand in the corridors and refuses to let go, even when you’re both trying to eat toast. He spells “J + Y/N = 🧡” into the condensation of every window he passes.

It’s revolting.

You adore it.

You’re sitting in the library, trying to do Transfiguration homework. James is across from you, meant to be writing a paper on theoretical wandless magic.

Instead, he’s staring at you. Again.

Hard.

Like he’s trying to memorize your face for war.

“James,” you whisper, not looking up from your notes. “Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop looking at me like I’m about to vanish.”

He grins like you just told him he’s your Patronus.

“I would literally pass out if you vanished. Right here. Face-first into my essay.”

“You don’t have an essay.”

“I’d write one about you.”

You blink. “What would it be titled?”

He pauses for half a second before saying, proudly: “‘Anatomy of a Face I’d Die For: A Study in Tragic Obsession.’”

From across the table, Remus snorts.

Aidan—the Ravenclaw you almost went on a date with—is not helping James’s emotional stability.

He’s still friendly. Too friendly. He waves in corridors. Compliments your handwriting. Smiles a bit too long.

James is Not Normal™ about it.

“Do you think he wants to duel?” James says one day while you're walking to Charms.

You blink. “What?”

“Aidan. He looked at me funny. I think he wants to fight.”

“James,” you sigh, “he was holding a kitten.”

“Yeah. As a weapon.”

You stop walking. “Are you jealous of the boy I didn’t go on a date with?”

“I’m not jealous,” he says, tightening his hold on your hand. “I just think he’s too nice. And suspiciously symmetrical.”

He’s pouting. Full-on, Golden Retriever Pout™.

You tug him closer and whisper in his ear, “You know I only want you, right?”

James short-circuits. Blushes so violently Sirius will make fun of him for three days straight.

The Marauders, Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas are trying to have a civil conversation in the Gryffindor common room. You and James are not helping.

You're on his lap. His face is half-buried in your neck. He’s literally just… sighing contentedly.

Dorcas gags. “Do they think they’re in a cottagecore romance novel?”

Sirius throws a pillow. “Oi! James, you’re making us single by proximity.”

James doesn’t move. “You chose this life.”

Lily deadpans: “We didn’t choose anything. You cursed us.”

You grin, twisting slightly to look at your boyfriend. “James, maybe we should tone it down—”

James groans like you’ve stabbed him.

“I just got you!” he whines. “I’ve spent six years in platonic hell! I deserve this! Don’t take this from me, woman!”

“Godric’s bleeding ghost,” Marlene mutters, “he’s dramatic with her too.”

It happens in the middle of a Quidditch match.

You’re cheering from the stands, cold air whipping through your hair, and James does this ridiculous dive to catch the Quaffle—and slams into the ground with a dramatic thud.

Everyone gasps.

You leap from your seat. “JAMES?!”

He sits up immediately and yells:

“I’M OKAY, DARLING! I JUST SAW YOUR FACE AND FORGOT GRAVITY EXISTED!”

The stands go silent.

The Hufflepuff Beaters stop mid-swing.

Madam Hooch looks personally offended.

You turn bright red.

Sirius screams, “GET A ROOM!”

Remus whispers, “We are in the emotional splash zone.”

Later that night, curled into each other on the Gryffindor couch, James hums against your shoulder.

“You think people are sick of us?”

You smile, brushing back his hair. “Definitely.”

“Should we stop?”

“No.”

“Good,” he mumbles sleepily, already halfway to dreaming. “Because I plan on loving you out loud for the rest of my life.”

And even though he’s dramatic, possessive, clingy, and a little stupid in love…

So do you.

#della's inbox 𐙚⋆°🦢｡⋆♡#della answered ⋆˚✿˖°#della 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter drabble #james potter #james fleamont potter #the maruaders #marauders era #marauders #james potter fanfiction #james potter fic

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lambilegs · 7 months ago

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I adore your best friend's older sister! Sevika headcanons, literally been rereading since last night 😫

I had a thought, a little crumb, a little ✨food for thought ✨, but what about Best friend's older sister! Sevika getting jealous. Maybe they aren't together yet and she spots reader getting a lil too cozy with another friend. Or maybe they are together and Sevika is not liking the way reader's coworker is gettin a lil too comfy 👀😤

I've truly thought about this too often lol, sorry for the rambles ♡

best friend's older sister!sevika getting jealous <3

note to anon: BAE DON'T APOLOGIZE THIS IDEA IS SOOOO <33 and omg thank you so so much!! I'm so happy you like it hehe. so, I decided to expand upon the first idea you gave because it's so so good, though I LOVE both. like, thank you so much for sending these thoughts AHHH <33

so, I totally agree with you that best friend's older sister!sevika would definitely be possessive. it's only worsened pre-confession because you're not hers yet, so she doesn't feel like she has much of a right to do anything about it. at least if you guys were together, she could wrap her arm around your waist or kiss your head, something silent to signify to others that you're hers.

but, as much as you two have teased and been pushing and pulling these past few months, that's all it's been. push, pull, push, pull. no confession, no asking out, no dates. and, listen, sevika doesn't mind the long game necessarily -- she knew from the get go that if she was gonna be pursuing you, it'd have to be serious. she wasn't about to get into some vague, unidentified shit with her sister's best friend. not only would her sister kill her for that, but it's not even what she's interested in in the first place. it's easy to talk to you, to trust you. it's easy to want something longterm with you. but, longterm means she needs to put in the work of trusting you. and for her, that takes a while. so, she doesn't mind the long game.

what she does mind, though, is that taking things slow means that in this whole getting-to-know-you phase, she doesn't know exactly where your head is at. if you want something serious, if you're ready for a relationship. she knows she should be asking you these questions, but as much as she hates to admit it, it makes her uncomfortable to think of being so honest about these feelings of hers. and what being honest could potentially lead to, like a pierce into your guys' relationship, whatever the hell it is.

but, goddammit, is it fucking hard to not grab you, drag you to her room and show you exactly how she feels when you're on the living room couch, canoodling up to one of the girls in yours and her sister's friend group. she knows how it is for you guys. no boundaries, endless amounts of teasing, flirting, nasty jokes. but, that doesn't make it any easier to see you nuzzling your head into one of their shoulders, the two of you swapping and laughing hysterically over suggestive comments about leaving the room to do some "private activities."

sevika grits her teeth from where she can hear the conversation, gripping the handle to the fridge hard. she sucks in a sharp breath, shakes her head, and grabs her bottle of water from the side shelf. shutting it close quietly, she makes her way to her bedroom, sock-clad feet heavy against the wood.

when she walks past your group, practically cuddled in the living room, she nods quietly at the group of you guys, feeling her shoulders tense up when you and her make eye contact. your head darts off your friend's shoulder, and she nearly snickers. you really aren't subtle when it comes to paying her attention. and today, she doesn't feel like returning it, her stomach clenched in anger over the unabashed flirting she just overheard.

she's in the middle of tinkering at her desk, tweaking some annoying shit that keeps making a scraping noise every few hours, when a knock comes to her room.

"yeah?" she mutters, trying not to throw the screwdriver right at the wall.

when you poke your head in, she glances at your momentarily before continuing her work. she hates how her stomach flips at your arrival, how she suddenly feels clumsy with the tools under your gaze.

"what?"

you start from where you lean on her doorframe. "I just, um, wanted to check if we're good?"

"just peachy," she huffs out, dragging her wrist past her brow, which is sticky with sweat. "why?"

"well, um..." you trail off, shifting on your feet. "you usually smile or say hi now, and right now, you didn't."

she feels a flash of irrational annoyance. she doesn't like the fact that you can read her so easily, as though you have her constantly under a microscope. she doesn't wanna have to deal with her jealousy, her feelings, but you cornering and confronting her like this doesn't make that easy.

"I'm fine."

she blinks hard at the gears when her bedroom door softly clicks shut.

"no, you're not. sevika, come on, what's wrong?" you trot over to her desk, standing right next to her, shoving your presence into her space. "tell me."

she sighs, her body stiff with embarrassment and irritation at your stubbornness. god, things would be so much easier if you weren't so damn feisty, always snapping back at her. but, at the same time, though she'd never tell you, she can't help but like your persistence.

"do you have to be so damn flirty with all your friends?" she bites, immediately regretting the words as soon as they shoot out. so much for subtlety.

your head jerks back. "that's why you're upset? sevika, I've always flirted with them, you know that. I'm sure you've seen your fair share of it for years now."

"yeah, well, now, it's different." she keeps her eyes locked onto the desk, and when she realizes just how thinly veiled the implication of her words are, she rushes to add, "now, I think it's risky shit. you know, someone could get the wrong idea."

you scoff. "it's been like this for years. no one will get the wrong idea."

she rolls her eyes, grumbling incoherent words. she knows you're right. she's made her own fair share of jokes like that with her buddies, even the ones she wouldn't be caught dead with in any lifetime. and you're right, your little gang has always been like this. but, none of that helps to dampen the burning irritation that grows in her stomach when she sees you being so touchy with someone who isn't her. with someone who may think they have a chance with you, no matter how slim. she doesn't want you to have options, she wants to be the only one you see in that way.

"and I don't want you to get the wrong idea, either."

she freezes at the words, her hand stilling.

you inch in closer and your warm palm rests on her shoulder. she feels something stir inside her at the touch, wishing you'd slide the rest of your hand down her arm. you guys have touched briefly, sure, but it's usually fleeting, teasing. this, though? this is tender, and -- it's intimate. you're trying to reassure her, she can tell. she knows it's a nice thing to do, but a part of her cringes at the fact that her feelings were so badly concealed that you even needed to comfort her at all. she should be better than this.

"I don't see anyone in my group like that, okay?" you pause, and the silence between you two thickens. right before it becomes suffocating to the point of sevika forcing herself to respond, you add, your voice quiet and shaky, "trust me, it's not my friends whose attention I want like that. just one other person... who's close by."

her nostrils flare, her breaths feeling tighter than before. are you saying what she thinks you are?

"okay," she manages to get out.

"okay." your hand slips from her shoulder, and she feels the cold of your absence as you turn to leave. without thinking, her hand flies up, catching yours.

your head whips to her in surprise, eyes wide and curious.

she thumbs at your pulse point, some of her confidence regaining through feeling how it spikes. but, still, there's an undercurrent of discomfort, so she tries to steady her voice before saying, "you know, I have a pretty good shoulder too."

you laugh, ducking your head down. sevika tries not to pull you in closer, coax you to look at her when she talks. "yes, I'm sure you do," you respond, a sarcastic lilt to your voice.

"well, obviously. you're always checking me out when I work out."

you splutter, eyebrows scrunched indignantly. "well, that's because you insist on working out in front of us always! for all I know, maybe you're the one who's into someone in our group."

your voice is mocking, but sevika hears the tremors of it towards the end. are you nervous that she maybe is into someone else but you? or are you hopeful it's you?

you gave her a bit of assurance, so she might as well return the favour.

"maybe there is someone I'm trying to impress. someone who'd maybe notice that more if they weren't always shoving their face in other people's chests."

she can see how your eyes bulge at the semi-confession, your palm slick with sweat in her hand. your mouth flaps open for a few seconds, before shakily saying, "well, you did offer yourself up as a substitute."

her cheeks ache with how hard she's trying not to grin too widely. "don't get too excited."

you wring your hand from her grip, smiling coyly as you reach for her doorknob. "I'll try to contain myself."

#WROTE THIS IN A RUSH BC I'M HEADING OUT SOON BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY HEHE #not proofread I'm sorryyyy #s.writing #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane x you

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cheol-e-kat · 5 months ago

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hi! for the bingo card, how about bedsharing + big dick mingyu? maybe mc and mingyu are best friends sharing a bed on a trip, but mingyu gets hard while sleeping. when they both wake up, gyu has morning wood and mc is aroused. what better way to solve the problem than fuck it out?

anon, thanks for submitting this ask - idk why but it just scratched my brain so i kind of went ham on it

♡ kat

pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader

bingo squares: bed sharing + big dick!mingyu

genres: f2l, fluff, one bed, confessions, smut

summary: y/n and mingyu are best friends - they go on a weekend trip, and when there is only one bed in their room, they finally give in to their feelings

word count: 3.1k

rating: NSFW | MDNI

warnings: below cut

oral (m. receiving), penetrative sex, cum eating, deep-throating

the trip to the tiny hotel had been such a nightmare. first, packing for any trip is an anxious activity for you - do you pretend to be the minimalist girlie with one bag (who you know you aren’t), or just be yourself and bring like five bags with all the options. second, it started raining, which was fine until thunder and lightening decided to join in on the game of who can kill y/n’s vibe the fastest. third, you didn’t even know, but you were waiting on tenterhooks to find out, you thought sarcastically as mingyu went to check in and you waited in the car, only jumping once when lightening struck really close.

to be fair, your best friend was the only saving grace so far. if anything, he overlooked your overpacking and reminded you of the things you did actually need, like your toothbrush. and when the weather started to freak you out, he just distracted you by asking about that one guy at work you genuinely can’t stand and what he did that week that basically ruined your life - there were at least fifty things that had made you want to smack the guy.

you watched him pop back out of the cute hotel - it was cute - your mutual friend had picked an extremely charming place for her ‘couples’ camping weekend. when camping started to include hotels, you had no idea, but it was in a little town with mountain views, so whatever. and as always, the fact that you and mingyu were only best friends and not part of an actual couple was never mentioned. you were just lumped together, usually with separate rooms or at least rooms that included two beds, but still. plus, up until a few weeks ago, mingyu had been part of a couple, and you weren’t planning to come this time around.

but that didn’t matter. you carried your own bags, waving him off when he offered help - it was sweet, but he didn’t need to encourage you by lightening your load. the three bags were your problem.

he was definitely a minimalist one bag boy, which you did envy just a bit. but if you were him and could get away with two tshirts and one pair of jeans that looked like…your mind wandered way too freely as you walked behind him, and noticed the way his jeans showed off that he did have a really nice ass.

you blinked your thoughts away quickly as you stepped into the elevator with him and tried to avoid eye contact because you knew you might laugh and give yourself away.

“there’s just one room,” he said as he pushed the button for the fourth floor.

you shrugged, “it is like a smaller place,” you cringed at your lame answer and glanced at the ceiling trying to think about anything besides the fact that you had stared at his ass not two minutes earlier. words like ‘firm’ and ‘tasty’ kept popping into your mind though.

really, he had no business being as handsome as he was. and you had no business thinking about his ass. he was supposed to be here with whatever her name was, and not you.

you needed to get it together, but it never helped that you and mingyu weren’t just best friends. you both had a habit of ping-ponging from one bad relationship to another and always in between were things like this weekend, where you appeared as stand-in dates for one another. or longer periods where you just hung out together, watching movies and ordering food and being very domestic with each other. sometimes, you wondered when it would end, and you would really have to figure out how to make certain dishes for yourself.

you followed him down the hall to room nine and quickly realized what the third bad thing was - there was just one bed. you tried to maintain a straight face because of course there was just one bed - he had been planning to come here with someone he was with. you glanced around, hoping for a sofa or something. you were not sharing a bed with him, that was too much.

but it was a tiny ass, dainty, fucking hotel!! you wanted to scream. because everything was clearly focused on cute and not on practicalities like two people who definitely need two beds for their sanity.

the thing was, you were internally dying, and mingyu was completely zen. like it was just natural that there was one bed. he was already unpacking, even.

and yes, there were things that you had grown used to - yes, he slept in underwear only, which seemed to be a courtesy to you more than anything. and sure, he had no qualms about being shirtless - you had seen him undress way too often actually.

but your brain was virtually desensitized to seeing his body - of course he had a perfect chest and mind boggling abs and arms that could easily fold you like an origami crane - whatever, you were used to those things. but the proximity part? that was - no! you would sleep in the bath tub first. this was the hill you would die on! you were not sharing a bed with him - it wasn’t even a big bed - it was like maybe a full size.

you finished changing in the bathroom and opened the door, knowing you both had skincare routines. and given that there was one sink and one mirror, and your three functioning brain cells were at capacity, you appreciated that he kind of worked around you. but when you slipped past him to get out of the tight space, having only done the bare minimum of moisturizing, you felt bad for being in his way.

you also noticed that he was surprisingly wearing sweats and a tshirt. that was new. or not, he wasn’t the type to make others uncomfortable. if he could wear clothes, then maybe there was some hope, you thought.

and then you tried the mattress. it was insanely lumpy. every spot you tried was lump city.

when you realized he was standing over you, you sat up like you had been caught doing something dirty.

“it’s lumpy,” you said meekly.

he snorted, “is it?”

you nodded.

“it’s not so bad,” he started.

“what? no, it’s a lumpy nightmare,” you had tried every spot.

“i meant us sharing - you’ve been panicking since we came into the room,” he said it so softly.

“oh,” you tried to be calm, but there was nothing past your revelation of ‘oh.’

he watched you blushing slightly, “i kind of forgot about what i booked.”

his voice was weird. he sounded almost nervous, which was weird for the most confident person you knew.

“i mean, it’s fine - totally fine - bro,” you rambled and had possibly never sounded more ridiculous in your life.

he laughed, his cute pointy canines on display, “bro? seriously y/n,” he giggled.

you sighed and moved around to point out where you thought the least lumpy spots were. he hummed in response, joining you on the bed. your stomach leapt into your throat just feeling the bed shift with his added weight.

“so here,” he leaned over you pointing, “and here,” you could hear his teasing tone. at least that was normal.

“i’m being serious,” you gave him a playful shove, “look don’t listen and wake up tomorrow complaining ‘oh y/n my back hurts’ like no, no - i won’t be listening,” you grumbled as he flopped down, his arm sliding around your waist and pulling you close.

“but you always listen to me whine about things,” he pouted.

“yeah, but this is avoidable,” you totally weren’t paying attention to the fact that you were lying on top of him, or that his hands were tracing along your back - this was about mattress integrity.

he nodded, watching you, which was annoying because it always seemed to make you shut up about things somehow. just this persistent, fairly serene way he had of watching you complain about a thing was like if the sun suddenly focused only on you and you just wilted and died.

you sighed, thinking back to. the sharing issue - “yes, it’s basically fine - neither of us will die - and for once you’re actually wearing clothes, which is kind of wild.”

he grinned at that, “i can undress if that’s what you’re getting at,” he raised his eyebrows suggestively - it was more dorky than sexy.

“no, please, i’ve seen enough of your irl underwear model campaigns since we’ve been friends,” you huffed, completely ignoring the way your hands seemed to be busying themselves with smoothing stray hairs from his forehead.

“mmmh, that’s funny.”

your brows knitted together, “why?”

“because you always seem totally unaware of things like that,” he answered flatly.

you couldn’t help that you laughed, almost directly in his face, “sorry,” you started to roll away, but he held you in place.

you laughed again, more from nervousness, “seriously - did you just say ‘i seem unaware’? you saw me looking for the lumpy part of the mattress right?” you knew you sounded offended, but anyone implying that you didn’t pay attention to things around you was an astonishing statement - groundbreaking even.

he nodded, “yeah, but i’m not a lumpy mattress or people at work who annoy you, so,” he trailed off.

“so what?”

“so i assume you don’t pay attention to me quiet like that - i mean i know the color of sweaters people in your hr department wear,” he sounded fully exasperated. which was very different - that he seemed annoyed with you, maybe.

you watched him for a moment, thinking of how to say what you wanted to say, “mingyu, if i told you all the things i notice about you,” — you had no clue where that sentence was headed and could feel maybe all of the blood in your entire body rushing to your face. you were grateful that he cut you off.

“so you do notice me then?”

you blinked slowly, hearing the question in his voice, you nodded - “is there something specific?” you asked earnestly.

“i mean, yeah,” he said it like it was the most obvious thing ever. and he was still watching you in this way that was soft? maybe, you couldn’t put your finger on it. but you were certain your heart was beating way too fast. and that the position you were in, the literal position of you lying on top of him while you chatted about something, was suddenly feeling so familiar it was almost disturbing.

it wasn’t an issue of not noticing - noticing way easy - it was understanding what the thing you noticed meant in context. like yes, you fully knew how fit he was, and you had deep feelings for the cute beauty marks on his nose and cheek. you appreciated all the things he did for you and certainly tried to repay him.

you flexed your hands gently, the pads of your fingers feeling his chest - the room felt so small. if you did the wrong thing, the entire moment would shatter, so instead, you thought of all the cute, sweet things he did, and you did the thing you always wanted to do to say ‘thank you’ but had never tried because he was mingyu and too perfect for you.

you kissed him.

for a second, you thought you had done the wrong thing until he was returning your kiss with his own. his lips were softer than you imagined. you ran your fingers through his hair, rushing to touch him before whatever magical spell came with having one bed wore off.

at least it felt that way until he swapped your positions, and it was him kissing you - your cheeks and forehead, the gentle way his lips brushed against yours that made you moan faintly because being under him, feeling his weight and his hands holding you just where he wanted you so that he could kiss you the way he wanted was beyond your capacity. it was only made worse when you felt his soft exhale against your skin before he fully kissed you.

it went on like that, a slow back and forth of making out and dry humping one another like teenagers. which you didn’t hate in the least. especially when you palmed him through his sweats, feeling just how big his cock was.

“like it?” he asked, whispering against your skin.

you nodded, “i always thought it would be big,” you bit your lip gently, tracing your hand along his clothed shaft, “not this big, but big, veiny, definitely requiring some prep to take, or not if you wanted it rough - exactly the kind of dick you might describe as being ‘impaled’ on,” you smiled, never had you ever imagined you would be telling him your thoughts on his dick.

he laughed softly, “impaled on?” he asked as he sat up.

you nodded, watching him, wondering if his natural competitiveness extended to sex, too. you imagined him doing everything to shove his entire cock into you in one go, no lube. you reached out and snapped the waistband of his underwear gently.

“want help with that? you know, so we can go to sleep,” you offered.

he nodded, letting you move between his legs while he leaned back. you pulled his pants and underwear down and eyed the horse cock you had been palming before.

“think you can take all of it?”

you glanced up at him, seeing the slightly fucked out way he was watching you. you only smiled and leaned close, kissing the base of his cock and licking your way to his leaking tip.

“fuck, y/n, don’t tease,” he whined softly.

you used your hand to guide him where you needed him, and to be fair, you knew you were good at giving blow jobs. but staring down at his dick, you were starting to understand the source of his complaints about never getting good head. his dick was intimidating, but in all fairness, you couldn’t think of anyone else’s dick you would rather choke on.

and since he didn’t want to be teased, you decided not to hide the fact that you could deep-throat. it didn’t mean you didn’t feel tears pricking the edges of your eyes as you took him in, but why not pay him back for all the dinners he had cooked you, or at least a substantial number of them.

your jaw was beyond relaxed by the time you had him all the way in, and even though you could feel his fingers in your hair, he wasn’t applying any downward pressure - you traced the tip of your tongue against the base of cock, just so he knew he was really that deep.

he was mumbling a string of ‘fuck’ and ‘yes’ every five seconds - especially when you started to take him a bit faster, loving the feel of his cock stretching your mouth, even when it started to ache. you wanted him to come, though, so you started teasing his balls too, massaging them and focusing on breathing through your nose.

you felt him pull your hair roughly - you only glanced up at him, and kept sucking him off - you knew he was close. and when he came, the way his cum went down your throat and filled your mouth - you couldn’t help swallowing around him and finally pulling back. it was just so sloppy and good.

you sat back, looking at him for a moment, enjoying his dazed look as you licked your lips, your hands pressing gently into his thighs.

he reached out and caught the front of your tshirt, pulling you down to him - he kissed you delicately for a few minutes before going to the bathroom. you were already half asleep on the least lumpy part of the bed when he came back to curl around you for sleep.

you woke up and immediately knew your legs were tangled with mingyu’s. you stretched a bit and pressed close to him - he pulled you even closer - you heard him mumble something and ‘baby.’ it was cute. he was cute. and you had gone down on him like it was your fucking job the night before. your face flushed, remembering it. there were things that you two didn’t discuss, and while you might know that his biggest wish was for one good blow job - you certainly had no idea about the monster he kept so well hidden in his pants, nor did he have a clue about your dick-sucking abilities.

you shivered happily when you felt him kiss the back of your neck. you turned back and kissed him without a second thought. it was apparently way too easy to end up straddling him, reaching between you to feel his morning wood, stroking him teasingly, smiling when he started to pout.

you leaned down, nuzzling close to him, “it’s not like we have to be anywhere, right?”

he played with your hair, “i’m supposed to play a round of golf later.”

“you and golf kill me,” you mumbled, kissing his throat.

“you could try playing again,” he squeezed your ass roughly, “you’d look so cute in a plaid skirt - i could actually teach you how to swing the right way,” his hands drifted lower to the back of your thighs, “plus i’ve always wanted to fuck on the green.”

you laughed, “this is the fantasy you’re telling me about?”

he shrugged, “i mean, you already made one happen, so why not another?”

you looked down at him, taking in his cute bedhead, “you know we could be fucking right now?”

he nodded, and sighed, “yeah, but i like just hanging out in bed with you too,” he bit his lip gently, watching you.

“but you’re hard,” you whined softly.

making puppy eyes at him definitely worked. you found yourself holding onto the headboard, your back pressed to his chest, while you sat on his cock, he thrusted from below, and reached around to play with your clit. you loved how huge he was and how stretched you were. it was maybe the most pleasant way a person could be ripped in half. you were a mewling mess when you came the first time, and practically gasping for air the second time when he finally came too - his cum filling your pussy entirely, dripping down your thighs even.

it was easy to pass out after, fully knowing he would go play golf and tell everyone you were ‘finally’ dating, as he put it.

a/n: eeee okay, genuinely hope you like this - i know it's maybe longer than expected but i really liked them ;-;

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w1w2 · 4 months ago

Text

Twin

Jennie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 13k

Synopsis: After leaving Jennie before their debut, Y/N never truly moved on. But when she hears Jennie’s latest song, old wounds resurface along with unanswered questions. Will they finally face the past they never truly left behind?

Requested by Anon

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The dim glow of the studio monitors cast long, flickering shadows across the empty room. The only sound was the soft hum of the speakers, filling the space with something hauntingly familiar. Y/N sat motionless before the mixing board, fingers resting against the cool metal fader, her other hand curled into a loose fist on her lap.

A slow inhale. A sharp exhale.

She had produced this track for an artist under SM, a rising soloist with a delicate voice, the kind that carried emotion effortlessly. But no matter how hard she tried to separate herself from it, the song was not theirs.

It was hers.

The chord progression, the way the notes stretched like fingertips reaching for something already gone, the way the vocalist’s voice wavered, just barely, on the high notes. It wasn’t just music. It was a memory.

The kind of song that felt like déjà vu, like standing in the middle of a dream where you already knew the ending but wished, desperately, that this time it would be different.

For a brief, fleeting moment, Y/N allowed herself to sink into it.

And then the chorus hit.

Her breath caught, the sound cutting through her like glass. The ache in the melody, it wasn’t just familiar. It was identical.

Identical to the way Jennie’s voice used to tremble at 2 AM when exhaustion pressed too heavily on her bones. Identical to the way she used to hum mindlessly between practice sessions, back when they were just kids chasing a dream too big for their hands.

Identical to the way she had sounded the night Y/N walked away. A phantom pain bloomed in her chest, sharp and unforgiving.

Jennie.

The name echoed through her mind like an unfinished lyric.

Before she could stop herself, Y/N’s fingers twitched against the console and pressed pause. The silence that followed was deafening. A deep, suffocating kind of silence, the kind that filled the spaces where words were never said.

The kind Jennie had left behind.

Y/N swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as if it would push back the burn in her eyes. She had spent years perfecting the art of walking away, leaving the past where it belonged.

But some things, no matter how much time passed, never really left.

Y/N exhaled slowly, her pulse still uneven from the song that had been playing just moments ago. The weight in her chest hadn’t lifted, it had only settled deeper, like an anchor dragging her down.

Without thinking, she turned away from the soundboard, her gaze landing on the wooden desk drawer beside her. A familiar habit. A dangerous one.

Her fingers hesitated for only a second before curling around the handle.

The drawer creaked open.

Inside, a neat stack of envelopes lay in quiet confession. The edges were worn, yellowing slightly with age, some folded so many times the creases had nearly torn through the paper. A graveyard of words left unsaid.

Letters.

Dozens of them, written in moments of weakness. Moments when the silence was too loud. When she had wanted to reach out but couldn’t. When she had almost broken her promise to stay gone.

Her fingertips ghosted over the stack, tracing the curves of her own handwriting on the front of each envelope. Always addressed to the same person.

Back then, writing had been the only thing that kept her from drowning. Because if she wrote to Jennie, she could pretend, just for a little while, that Jennie was still listening.

Her hand wavered before settling on the letter at the very top.

The first one.

She had written it the night she left. Alone in a hotel room, the city lights blurring through the rain-streaked window, the world outside moving forward while she sat frozen in place.

She lifted the fragile paper, its corners slightly curled, the ink smudged in places where her hands had gripped it too tightly. Her handwriting was smaller than usual, hesitant. As if even the letters had known they weren’t meant to reach their destination.

But she didn’t need to open it. She already knew what it said.

Jennie, I don’t know if you’ll ever read this, but I need you to know. I never wanted to leave you…

Her chest tightened.

The words had felt like a confession then. Now, they felt like a wound that never fully healed.

She squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the letter so tightly it crumpled slightly between her fingers. How pathetic was this? After all these years, Jennie’s name still had this power over her.

A sharp knock at the door shattered the moment.

Y/N inhaled sharply, stuffing the letter back into the drawer, slamming it shut before turning around. Like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just been holding the past in her hands.

The knock had barely faded when the door creaked open.

“Y/N, you in here?”

Minhyuk stood in the doorway, a tablet in one hand, a takeout coffee in the other. His usual easygoing expression was tinged with something more hesitant today, like he wasn’t sure if he should be here.

“You didn’t answer my messages,” he said, stepping inside and placing the coffee on the desk. “Figured you were drowning in work again.”

Y/N forced a small smile. “Lost track of time.”

“Figured.” He gestured to the screens. “You working on the final mix for the new soloist?”

“Yeah, just tightening up the chorus.” She reached for the coffee, grateful for the excuse to keep her hands busy. The warmth seeped through the cup, grounding her.

Minhyuk hummed in approval, but then his gaze flickered, just for a second, toward the drawer she had shut only moments ago. He didn’t say anything, but she could tell he’d noticed her tension.

And then, just as she was about to steer the conversation back to work, he said it.

“Oh, have you heard? Jennie Kim is releasing an album.”

Y/N froze, just for a fraction of a second, but it was enough.

Minhyuk didn’t notice, or maybe he did and chose to ignore it. “You must’ve heard about it. Everyone’s been talking about it since Mantra dropped. But there are rumors that the album includes a really personal song.”

Her stomach twisted.

She pressed her lips together, keeping her expression neutral. “Good for her.”

Minhyuk took a sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim of the cup. “Looks like it’s gonna be a big one.”

Y/N nodded, forcing herself to appear indifferent. “She always does well.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, but there was something searching in his gaze, something cautious. “It’s just… a lot of people are saying it’s different this time. That it’s, like, deeply personal.” He paused, as if debating whether to say more. “Some fans think that one of the songs is about someone specific. Her ex to be exact.”

The words hit her somewhere deep, but she refused to let them show. Instead, she let out a small, dry laugh. “Fans say a lot of things.”

Minhyuk studied her for a moment longer before shaking his head with a smirk. “You really never crack, huh?”

She only shrugged.

Minhyuk hesitated but didn’t push further. Instead, he tapped his tablet against his palm. “Anyway, we have a meeting in twenty. Thought I’d remind you before you bury yourself in work again.”

“I’ll be there,” she assured him.

With that, he nodded and stepped back into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar.

The room fell silent again.

Y/N let out a slow breath, turning back to the desk. Her gaze fell to the drawer, the one that held years of words she never said, years of pain she never let herself feel.

She didn’t reach for it this time.

Instead, she grabbed her headphones and pressed play on the track she had been working on. She drowned out the silence with music.

The track she had been working on filled the studio, soft yet aching, each note stretching like a half-formed memory. It was a good song, melancholic, intentional, but something about it felt unfinished. Like a letter that trailed off before the final words.

She leaned back in her chair, eyes flickering to the coffee Minhyuk had left behind. The steam had faded, but the scent still lingered, warm, familiar. It reminded her of another time, another studio.

A different cup of coffee, set beside a messy pile of lyric sheets. Fingers wrapped around hers, a quiet giggle in the dimly lit room.

"Here, try mine. You’ll like it better."

A decade had passed, but the memory was still sharp. Y/N let her eyes close, just for a moment, letting it pull her under.

And just like that, she was back.

The YG practice rooms were never truly quiet.

Even at 3 AM, the building still pulsed with life. Music drifted through the halls, some tracks half-finished, others playing on a loop as trainees pushed through exhaustion. Sneakers scuffed against polished floors. Distant voices hummed unfinished melodies, notes blending into the steady hum of the air conditioning.

Inside one of those rooms, Y/N sat with her back against the mirror, legs stretched out in front of her, damp strands of hair clinging to her skin. Her limbs were sore, but it was the kind of ache that felt good. The kind that reminded her she was getting closer.

Across from her, Jennie lay sprawled on the floor, arms stretched wide, her chest rising and falling in deep, measured breaths. She was still catching her breath from their last run-through, sweat glistening at her temples.

“We’re insane,” Y/N muttered, tilting her head against the cool glass. “It’s literally the middle of the night.”

Jennie turned her head, dark eyes glinting under the fluorescent lights. “So? You’re still here.”

Y/N huffed, but a small smile tugged at her lips.

“Yeah, well. Someone has to make sure you don’t pass out from overworking yourself.”

Jennie grinned, slow and lazy, rolling onto her side to face her. “That’s cute. You think you’re the responsible one.”

Y/N nudged her shin with the tip of her shoe. “Shut up.”

Jennie laughed, that soft, breathy sound that Y/N had grown to love. It wasn’t the polished laugh Jennie used for cameras, nor the teasing one she shared with their members in training. No, this was different, quieter, realer, something only meant for moments like this.

The room settled into silence, the kind that stretched without pressure.The track they had been practicing to had ended long ago, but neither of them moved to play another.

With Jennie, silence never felt empty. It wasn’t the kind that begged to be filled with meaningless words or restless movements. Instead, it settled around them like a familiar melody, unspoken, but understood.

Jennie shifted beside her, pushing herself up onto her elbows, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling.

"Do you ever think about it?"

Y/N turned her head slightly, studying the way Jennie’s expression softened in thought. "Think about what?"

Jennie let out a slow breath, her voice quieter now. "The future. What it’s going to be like when we debut."

Y/N smirked, tilting her head.

"When, huh? Not if?"

Jennie turned to her then, one brow arched, eyes sharp despite her exhaustion. "Are you planning to fail?"

Y/N chuckled, lifting her hands in mock surrender. "Fair point."

Jennie rolled her eyes but didn’t hide the small smile playing at her lips. "Come on, just humor me."

Y/N sighed, leaning her head back against the mirror, pretending to think. “Alright. Let’s see… We debut, obviously. Become the biggest girl group in Korea. You’ll be the ace. Rap, vocals, visuals, everything. I’ll be the chaotic fan favorite.”

Jennie let out a quiet snort, shaking her head in amusement.

"Obviously."

Y/N’s grin widened. "We’ll travel the world, win Daesangs, perform at Coachella… make history." She said it like it was inevitable, like the universe had already carved their names into the stars.

Jennie’s smile softened, the teasing glint in her eyes fading into something quieter, something more fragile. She hesitated, just for a second, before murmuring, "Together?"

Y/N’s breath caught.

It was one word, simple, almost careless. But it wasn’t casual. Not when Jennie was looking at her like that, like the answer meant everything. Like Jennie was asking about more than just debuting.

Y/N swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. The air between them felt heavier, warmer, charged with something unspoken.

She wet her lips. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Together.”

Jennie held her gaze for a second longer before dropping her head back against the floor with a soft sigh.

“Good,” she whispered.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Their bodies were exhausted, but their hearts felt light. They were young, stupid, reckless, and completely convinced they could take on the world.

The countdown to debut should have been the most exciting time of their lives. Instead, it was suffocating.

Every morning began with a weigh-in. The number on the scale determined everything, how much they ate, how much they trained, how much they were worth in the eyes of the company. If it wasn’t low enough, there were consequences. Extra hours of cardio. Meals taken away. A warning that they were replaceable.

“Idols don’t have baby fat,” the trainers would sneer. “You either lose it, or you lose your spot.”

Y/N quickly learned how to quiet her hunger, how to sip on ice water until the gnawing in her stomach became something distant, something easier to ignore. Jennie was better at pretending it didn’t bother her, but Y/N saw the way she gripped the sink each morning, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

Then came the rehearsals.

16-hour training days that stretched long into the night. Choreographers drilled them relentlessly, barking corrections that burned like lashes across their skin.

“Again. Again. Again.”

It didn’t matter if their legs shook from exhaustion, if their bodies screamed for rest, they weren’t allowed to stop. Mistakes weren’t tolerated. Trainees who couldn’t keep up disappeared without warning.

Evaluations were worse.

Every month, they stood in a cold, silent room while executives picked them apart like livestock at an auction. Their singing, their dancing, their faces, their bodies, everything was up for scrutiny.

“Your voice lacks color.” “Your expressions are lifeless.” “Your thighs are still too thick.”

Each critique carved into them, piece by piece, until they were hollow enough to be filled with whatever the company wanted them to be.

Privacy was a luxury they no longer had. Cameras watched their every move, managers monitored their diets, and every word they spoke felt like it could be overheard. They weren’t just trainees, they were investments, carefully molded into perfection. People stopped seeing them as girls with dreams and started seeing them as future idols, marketable and polished.

At first, Y/N convinced herself it was all part of the process. The exhaustion, the hunger, the bruises, just stepping stones on the path to success. Endure it now, and the reward will come later.

Jennie believed that, too.

“It’s just for now,” she’d murmur against Y/N’s temple in the quiet hours of the night, when the world outside the practice room ceased to exist. “Once we debut, it’ll get better.”

In those stolen moments, half-asleep, bodies aching, they allowed themselves to dream. They whispered about the future, about the world tours they’d conquer, the awards they’d win, the music they’d make together.

"Just a little longer," Jennie would say, fingers brushing against Y/N’s wrist, grounding them both. "We’re so close."

And Y/N wanted, desperately, to believe her.

But it didn’t get better.

The closer they got to debut, the worse it became. Training days stretched into sleepless nights, their bodies pushed beyond their limits, their minds fraying at the edges. Hunger settled in their bones, exhaustion blurred the weeks together, and there was no room to stop, no space to breathe.

Speaking out wasn’t an option. Complaining wasn’t tolerated. Refusing wasn’t allowed. Instead, they were met with the same cold reminder.

“Do you know how many girls would kill for this opportunity?”

So Y/N forced herself to keep going. She swallowed down her doubts, shoved away her exhaustion, ignored the nagging voice in her head that whispered, “Are you sure this is what you want?”

And then the rumors started.

Trainees gossiping in hushed voices, stolen glances from staff members, managers suddenly checking their phones more often when Jennie and Y/N were around.

At first, they ignored it.

Rumors were always circulating in YG. Someone was dating. Someone was getting kicked out. Someone had secretly undergone plastic surgery. It was just noise, the kind that came with living under constant surveillance.

But this time, the whispers followed them wherever they went.

“Did you hear?” “I thought they were just close, but…” “They’re reckless. Don’t they know how strict the company is?”

Jennie brushed it off, insisting it would pass. But Y/N saw the way she glanced over her shoulder more often, how her fingers hesitated before reaching for Y/N’s hand when no one was looking.

Then, the instructors started watching them more closely.

At first, it was just glances, lingering a second too long, a shift in tone, corrections that felt more like warnings. Then, it became something else. Their critiques grew sharper, no longer about technique but about image. Something had changed. Someone had been watching.

One night, as they were gathering their things after practice, a voice cut through the air.

"Jennie. Y/N. The executives want to see you."

A slow, sinking feeling settled in Y/N’s stomach, heavy and inescapable.

They knew.

The office was eerily silent when they stepped inside, the kind of silence that made it impossible to breathe. A long table stretched before them, lined with YG’s higher-ups, their faces blank, detached, impossible to read. The air was thick with something unspoken, pressing against Y/N’s ribs like a weight she couldn’t shake.

Jennie sat beside her, back rigid, hands clenched so tightly in her lap that her knuckles turned white. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them had to.

One of the executives leaned forward, threading his fingers together, his voice slow and measured, as if he were delivering nothing more than a routine business report. "We’ve been hearing things."

Y/N felt her pulse quicken, the cold weight in her stomach turning to ice.

"Things that cannot be tolerated."

The words were devoid of emotion, as if everything they had given, the sleepless nights, the injuries, the sacrifices, meant nothing in the face of company policy. It didn’t matter that they had spent years molding themselves into perfection, shaping every breath, every movement, every thought to fit into the carefully curated image of an idol.

As if they were disposable. As if they hadn’t bled for this dream.

"You know the rules."

No dating. No distractions. No personal lives. The meaning was clear. Idols belonged to the company. Not to themselves.

Jennie inhaled sharply beside her, the sound barely audible, but Y/N could feel the way she tensed, her fingers twitching slightly before curling into fists.

She already knew what they were going to say, but still, when the words came, they hit like a knife straight to the gut.

"End it."

Jennie didn’t move. She didn’t argue, didn’t beg, didn’t fight, not here, not in front of them, but Y/N could feel the way her body locked beside her, the way her breath turned unsteady, the way her silence screamed louder than any words ever could.

"If this continues, there will be consequences."

It wasn’t a warning. It was a command.

Silence stretched between them, suffocating, unyielding. Y/N forced herself to lift her gaze, to meet their eyes even as her throat burned with the weight of everything she couldn’t say.

Debut or love.

They weren’t allowed to have both.

The practice room was empty, yet the air felt thick, pressing down on them like a weight neither of them could shake. The mirrors stretched endlessly around them, reflecting back the ghosts of everything they had been, everything they were about to lose.

Jennie sat cross legged on the floor, her head bowed, strands of dark hair falling over her face like a curtain. Her hands were clasped in her lap, fingers curled too tightly, as if she were trying to hold herself together. Y/N stood a few feet away, arms wrapped around herself, but it did nothing to stop the unraveling.

It was almost cruel.

This room had been their sanctuary once. The place where late night practices blurred into whispered dreams, where exhaustion faded into laughter, where stolen moments made all the suffering feel worthwhile. Now, it would be the place where it all ended.

Jennie exhaled slowly, but Y/N could hear the tremble in it.

"Stay with me."

The words were soft, barely more than a breath, but they struck like a blade, sharp and unforgiving.

Y/N’s hands curled into fists at her sides. She wanted to stay. God, she wanted to.

But she couldn’t.

She couldn’t keep starving, breaking, hiding. Couldn’t keep swallowing herself whole just to fit inside someone else’s mold. Couldn’t keep hoping for a future that had never really been theirs to begin with.

Jennie lifted her gaze then, eyes glossy, filled with something raw and desperate.

"Just a little longer."

Her voice cracked, splintering at the edges, and Y/N felt something inside her shatter along with it.

That was all Jennie had ever asked of her. Just a little longer. Just a little more pain. Just a little more sacrifice. Just a little more of herself.

But what was left of her to give?

Jennie was built for this world. Born to endure. Made to shine. She could withstand the pain, the hunger, the scrutiny, because she saw something beyond it, something worth all the suffering. Y/N didn’t. Not anymore.

Her throat tightened. She forced herself to swallow, to breathe, to push past the ache clawing at her ribs.

"I can’t."

Jennie flinched, a sharp inhale, like she’d been struck.

Silence stretched between them, heavy, unbearable. Y/N’s body screamed at her to take it back, to say anything to ease the hurt in Jennie’s eyes, to promise that they would find a way to survive this.

But Jennie said nothing.

Her lips parted, as if she wanted to fight, to beg, to convince Y/N to hold on just a little longer, but the words never came. Slowly, her shoulders dropped, her fingers loosened, her posture crumbled just enough for Y/N to see the heartbreak bleeding through the cracks.

And Y/N knew.

Jennie would never beg. Not for this. Not even for her.

Even with unshed tears clinging to her lashes, Jennie was still Jennie Kim. Poised, composed, unshakable. The girl who was meant to stand beneath the brightest lights, adored by millions.

Y/N had never felt smaller. She took a step back. Then another.

Jennie’s breath hitched, but she didn’t move. She wouldn’t stop her. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she loved her too much to make her stay.

At the door, Y/N hesitated. She looked back at the girl who had been her best friend, her first love, her home. She wanted to say something, anything, to make this hurt less.

But there was nothing.

So she turned and walked away. Jennie didn’t call after her.

The memory lived in the back of her mind, untouched for years, buried beneath time and distance. But some things never truly fade. Some moments linger, surfacing when least expected, like now, as she stood in her apartment, heart pounding, breath unsteady.

Y/N wasn’t running. Not really.

She told herself that over and over again as she threw a few essentials into a duffel bag, grabbed her headphones, and booked the earliest train out of the city. This wasn’t avoidance. It was just… space. A temporary retreat. A weekend to breathe.

But even as the train pulled out of Seoul Station, she could still feel it, the weight of the day pressing against her chest, the buzz of the city trailing after her like a shadow. It was inescapable.

Jennie Kim had finally released her first full-length solo album, and the world was losing its mind.

Seoul had been unbearable today, an electric storm of flashing billboards, trending hashtags, and endless conversations orbiting around one person. It didn’t matter where she went, studios, streets, every screen, every voice, every radio station played the same name on repeat.

Jennie. Jennie. Jennie.

The Jennie Kim. Global icon. Record breaking artist. The kind of star who didn’t just shine, she burned, leaving an imprint on everything she touched.

The album had dropped at midnight, and the industry had erupted.

Critics were already calling it a masterpiece, the kind of project that defined not just a career, but an era. Fans flooded social media, dissecting every track, every lyric, every hidden meaning buried in Jennie’s music. Industry giants were hailing it as one of the most important albums of the decade.

Y/N had spent years in the industry herself, just on the other side of it. She knew exactly what today meant.

And she wanted no part of it.

For years, she had kept her head down, working behind the scenes as a producer, crafting music for idols who still had stars in their eyes. She had built a name for herself in a different way, one that didn’t demand cameras flashing in her face, one that let her create without suffocating under the expectations that came with it.

She had done everything right. She had moved forward. She had left that life, that dream, that person behind.

And yet, no matter how much distance she put between herself and the past, some things never really let go.

So she left.

Booked a train ticket to Busan, let Seoul shrink behind her, let the rhythmic hum of the tracks drown out the noise in her head. Maybe, if she was lucky, a different sky, a different city would quiet the ache that still refused to fade.

The waves stretched lazily toward her feet before slipping away again, their rhythm steady, hypnotic. The scent of salt lingered in the air, mingling with the faint traces of grilled seafood and coffee drifting from the boardwalk behind her. Somewhere in the distance, the city hummed, soft, unobtrusive, distant enough to fade into the background.

Busan was quieter than Seoul, but even here, life pulsed on. Couples wandered along the shore, their laughter carried by the wind. A few kids chased each other near the water, their shrieks of joy rising over the waves.

Y/N stayed where she was, hoodie pulled low over her face, sneakers half buried in the cool sand. She had been sitting here for hours, watching the sky melt from soft blue to gold, then to dusky pink.

Her phone lay beside her, screen dim, playing through an old-school R&B playlist. The kind of music that had always been a comfort. Something soft. Something familiar. Something that didn’t hurt.

Ashanti’s voice drifted through her earbuds, blending seamlessly with the crash of the tide. She wasn’t really listening. The songs bled together, fading into the background, nothing more than a quiet hum to fill the silence.

She let her mind drift, let the wind pull at the loose strands of her hair, let herself breathe. For the first time in a long time, there was nothing pressing down on her chest.

And then.

"It’s like I’m writing a letter And I put in a twelve-ounce bottle of Heineken…"

Y/N’s breath stilled.

A quiet tension gripped her muscles before her mind could even process why. Something about the voice, the melody, the way the words settled in the air around her, it struck like a presence she hadn’t expected, hadn’t prepared for.

Then, recognition crashed into her, swift and unforgiving.

Jennie.

She jolted upright so fast that her hands slipped against the sand, sending grains spilling over her jeans. Her heart pounded as she fumbled for her phone, barely registering the cold metal beneath her fingers. The screen lit up in the dimming light, and there it was, staring back at her.

twin – JENNIE

The world tilted slightly.

Of all the songs in the world, of all the tracks that could have shuffled into her playlist, it had to be this one. Out of the millions of possibilities, it had to be her.

Jennie’s voice poured through the speakers, smooth and deliberate, carrying a weight that settled deep in Y/N’s chest. There was something sharp beneath it, something quiet and unrelenting, threading itself between her ribs like a whisper she couldn’t ignore.

"I didn’t leave ya, I still see ya When I’m bumping Ashanti, yeah, on the beach, yeah."

A slow, unsteady breath left Y/N’s lips, but it wasn’t enough to steady her. The air caught in her throat, tangled somewhere between disbelief and something heavier, something dangerous.

Her grip tightened around the phone, fingers pressing into the edges as if grounding herself would make a difference. But the truth was, it wouldn’t. Because this wasn’t just a song. It wasn’t some distant, abstract heartbreak ballad written for a faceless love lost to time.

It was them.

Every lyric, every pause, every aching note, it was a story, and she was in it. Jennie wasn’t just singing about the past. She wasn’t just weaving a melody out of old wounds and untold confessions.

She was remembering. She was reliving it.

And now, so was Y/N.

Y/N’s nails dug into her palm, the sharp bite of pain a desperate attempt to keep herself anchored, to keep the past from crashing into her all at once. It was a losing battle. The memories rose too fast, too strong, slipping through the cracks she had spent years sealing shut.

She had told herself that she won’t think about that night anymore, that time had softened it, blurred the edges, made it something distant, something she could acknowledge without feeling.

But music had a way of unearthing things.

And this wasn’t just music.

The practice room flickered to life behind her eyelids, the weight of silence pressing down like it had all those years ago. The air had been thick, stifling, full of things neither of them knew how to say. Jennie’s voice had been so small, so unlike her usual sharp confidence, just a whisper, but it had wrecked her.

Stay with me.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, as if that could erase the memory, as if she could unhear the way Jennie’s voice had cracked, as if she could unfeel the unbearable pull in her chest that had begged her to say yes.

But she hadn’t.

She had walked away.

And now, years later, sitting on a quiet beach miles away from the life she had once fought to escape, it didn’t matter how much distance she had put between them. The ache still lived inside her, dormant but never gone.

She had left Seoul to avoid this, to escape the inevitability of Jennie’s voice reaching her, pulling her back into a storm she had spent a decade outrunning.

And yet, here she was, sitting on the sand, staring at a name on her screen, heart breaking open like it was that night all over again.

The ocean stretched endlessly before her, waves lapping in a steady rhythm, unbothered, indifferent. She wished she could feel the same. But no amount of distance, no amount of salt air, could drown out the weight pressing against her ribs.

Two more days. That’s what she told herself. Just two more before she returned to Seoul, to reality, to the mess she had abandoned in her wake.

She should have known better.

Because the past had a way of finding her, no matter how far she ran.

The message came on an otherwise uneventful Tuesday, arriving with the kind of casual audacity that only Wendy and Irene could manage. Y/N had been lost in work, headphones slipping from her ears as she focused on layering harmonies, smoothing imperfections, and details only she would notice. It was muscle memory by now, adjust, refine, perfect. A process that left little room for distractions.

Her phone vibrated against the desk.

She ignored it at first, fingers still moving over the controls, mind still tethered to the track. But the messages kept coming, insistent, persistent. With a sigh, she reached for her phone, expecting nothing more than another dinner invite, another inside joke.

Group Chat.

Wendy: “Guess who has an extra VVIP pass for The Ruby Experience?”

Y/N frowned, the words not quite sinking in at first. The Ruby Experience. She had heard the name countless times in the past days, but never aloud, never in direct relation to herself. The realization settled slowly, creeping in at the edges before striking all at once.

Jennie’s concert.

The first solo concert. The one that had sold out in minutes. The one that was already being hailed as historic before the stage lights had even been tested. The one the entire industry had been waiting for.

A second message followed before she could even process the first.

Irene: “No excuses. You’re coming.”

Wendy: “It’s been years, Y/N.”

Years.

The word lingered longer than it should have, wrapping around her like an unwelcome echo.

She should say no. She wanted to say no. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a response forming on instinct.

Y/N: “I don’t think,”

Another message cut her off.

Irene: “You owe me dinner if you decline.”

Wendy: “And drinks.”

Y/N huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. Cowards. They weren’t even pretending this was about the concert itself. They weren’t pushing just because it was an event, they were pushing because of her.

Because no one had to say Jennie’s name for her presence to be felt. Because no matter how much time had passed, Jennie Kim’s name still carried weight in her chest, still felt dangerous in her mouth.

Like something sacred. Like something broken. Like something she had never really learned to live without.

Y/N: “Fine. But if it gets weird, I’m leaving.”

Her fingers hesitated for the briefest second before pressing send, but it was too late. The message was out, irreversible, the decision made. And yet, as the confirmation flashed on her screen, a sharp knot twisted in her stomach, the finality of it settling in too quickly, too heavily.

She told herself it was just an event. Just one night. A fleeting moment in a crowded venue, nothing more.

But deep down, she knew better.

Because the past had never been content to stay buried, especially not when Jennie Kim was a part of it.

The venue pulsed with energy, an undercurrent of anticipation vibrating through the walls. Even from the seclusion of the VIP lounge, Y/N could feel it, the unmistakable electricity of a sold-out arena, the collective breath of thousands waiting for one woman to take the stage.

Ruby’s signature red bathed the space in a warm glow, a stark contrast to the sleek black leather couches and glasses balanced on polished tables. The industry’s elite moved around her, exchanging handshakes and half-empty compliments, but Y/N barely heard them.

She tried to focus on Irene and Wendy’s conversation, nodding at the right moments, laughing when expected. It should have been easy, pretending, performing. She’d spent years perfecting the art.

But then, the sound of her name, spoken with a mixture of disbelief and something softer, made her shoulders stiffen.

"Y/N?"

She turned.

Rosé stood just a few feet away, a champagne flute hanging loosely from her fingers, forgotten. Her blonde hair framed her face in soft waves, and despite the dim lighting, there was no missing the flicker of recognition in her gaze.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Years.

That’s how long it had been since they had last stood face to face. Since they had last spoken without a stage, a screen, or a continent between them. But there was no hesitation in Rosé’s expression. No bitterness. Just quiet surprise.

"You’re here," she said, as if confirming it for herself.

Y/N swallowed, forcing a small, knowing smile. "So are you."

Rosé let out a breath, shaking her head with a quiet huff. "Flew in from LA yesterday. There was no way I’d miss this."

Of course not.

This was Jennie’s night, the kind of moment no one who had ever truly known her would dare to miss, and they both understood that without needing to say it.

Rosé studied her for a moment, head tilting slightly, something curious, maybe even cautious, flickering in her eyes.

"I didn’t know you’d come," she admitted, her voice softer now, like she was searching for something unspoken in Y/N’s expression.

There were countless ways she could answer, a hundred variations of the truth sitting on the tip of her tongue, each one easier than the one before. But in the end, honesty slipped through before she could stop it.

"Neither did I."

Rosé stilled, lips parting just slightly, something shifting in her gaze, not quite surprise, not quite understanding, but something close to both. Y/N hadn’t planned to be here. She had spent years avoiding moments like this, convincing herself that distance was the only thing keeping her upright.

And yet, despite every reason not to, she had come anyway.

A beat passed, the noise around them fading into something distant, inconsequential. Then, as if remembering herself, Rosé straightened, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You know, I was going to say something smug about how you finally decided to show your face, but…" She hesitated, eyes softening. "I’m just glad to see you."

The sincerity in her voice caught Y/N off guard, settling uncomfortably in her chest. She exhaled, looking down briefly before meeting Rosé’s gaze again.

"Congratulations, by the way."

Rosé blinked, caught off guard for just a second.

"For Rosie," Y/N clarified, her voice even, measured. "And for APT."

For a moment, Rosé said nothing, but something flickered in her expression, first surprise, then warmth, settling into something quieter, something understanding.

"You kept up."

Y/N didn’t respond, but she didn’t have to. The silence between them spoke louder than any words could, carrying years of history, of distance, of things left unsaid.

Slowly, Rosé’s lips curved into a knowing smile, her voice light but edged with something fond. "You’re still terrible at pretending you don’t care."

Y/N exhaled, rolling her eyes, but there was no real bite behind it. She shook her head, already regretting this conversation. "Shut up."

Rosé chuckled, and just like that, the years between them felt a little less heavy. There was still distance, still space carved out by time and choices, but in this moment, neither of them were looking at the past.

Only at what remained.

The moment the lights dimmed, the stadium roared to life. A wall of sound crashed over Y/N, the force of it rattling in her chest, reverberating in her bones. It wasn’t just excitement, it was worship. The kind of adoration reserved for legends.

Thousands of voices called her name.

"Jennie! Jennie! Jennie!"

The ground vibrated beneath her feet, the sheer magnitude of it swallowing the VIP lounge in its wake. And then a single note cut through the chaos.

Low. Resounding.

The stage bathed in red, and Jennie rose.

She emerged from the floor in a slow, deliberate ascent, bathed in crimson light, a vision against the darkness. The opening chords wove through the air like a spell, wrapping around the crowd, pulling them into her world.

The moment she lifted the mic to her lips, the stadium erupted again, the sound near deafening.

And still, she remained untouched by it.

Effortless. Untouchable. A force of nature.

From the lounge, Y/N sat frozen.

She had told herself she was prepared for this. That she was here as a producer, an industry professional watching a fellow artist perform. It was just a concert. Just music.

But as Jennie moved, fluid, commanding, every step measured, every glance deliberate, Y/N felt the slow, creeping realization settle deep in her stomach.

She wasn’t ready.

Not for this. Not for the way Jennie’s voice curled around the lyrics, each note rich and powerful, each song a declaration of who she had become. Not for the way she owned the stage like it had been built for her.

And certainly not for the way she still looked like the same girl Y/N had once loved.

And lost.

Y/N’s fingers tightened around the glass in her hands. She forced herself to focus on the technicalities, the impeccable production, the seamless transitions, the live band swelling beneath Jennie’s vocals.

But it didn’t help.

Not when the stage lights cast shadows along Jennie’s face in a way that felt achingly familiar. Not when the rasp in her voice dragged up memories Y/N had spent years trying to bury.

Jennie was everywhere.

In the way the crowd moved in unison, hanging onto every syllable she uttered. In the way the cameras captured the curve of her smirk, the flicker of something dark and playful in her eyes. In the way she carried herself, not as an idol, not as a performer, but as someone who knew she had already won.

This was the Jennie Kim the world saw. Untouchable. Limitless. A star so bright it was impossible to look away.

But Y/N knew better.

She knew the Jennie behind closed doors. The one who had once held her hand like she was afraid to let go. The one who whispered secrets into the hollow of her throat late at night, voice small and uncertain. The one who had begged her to stay.

Y/N blinked, inhaling sharply, pushing the memory away before it could fully form.

She was fine. She had to be.

This was just music. Just a concert. Nothing more.

And yet, as Jennie’s voice carried through the air, wrapping around the stadium like something tangible, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, she had already lost all over again.

It should have been over.

The hardest part was over, song after song, each a reminder of everything Jennie had become, everything she had achieved. Y/N had watched from a distance, hands curled into fists beneath the table, heartbeat steady even when it shouldn’t have been. She had endured the spectacle, the flashing lights, the deafening cheers that followed Jennie’s every move.

She had made it through.

But then, the arena went dark.

A hush swept through the crowd, anticipation thick in the air. Even before the first note played, something inside Y/N twisted, coiling tight like a premonition she wasn’t ready to face. The silence stretched, unbearably long, until a single beam of light pierced through the darkness.

Jennie stood alone.

Gone was the grand production, the dancers, the elaborate staging that had framed her for the past hour. Now, it was just her, a lone figure bathed in silver, shadows stretching long behind her. No distractions. No escape.

Y/N barely had a moment to exhale, to convince herself that it was over, that she had made it through the night without falling apart.

But then, the first few notes filled the stadium.

Soft, slow, unmistakable.

Her entire body tensed, breath stalling in her chest as a sharp, invisible thread coiled tight around her ribs, pulling mercilessly. She knew this melody. She knew it in the way one knows an old scar, in the way a phantom pain lingers long after the wound has closed.

No.

Not this song.

Not the one that had been theirs before either of them had the words to admit it. Not the one that carried every memory she had tried to outrun.

Her fingers curled into fists, nails pressing hard against her palms, as if she could ground herself, as if she could stop the way the past was crashing over her like a tidal wave.

The crowd erupted in recognition, thousands of voices gasping, screaming, chanting Jennie’s name. But Y/N barely heard them. The first lyric was already slipping through the air, delicate yet devastating.

"It’s like I’m writing a letter…"

It hit like a fist to the ribs. Her nails dug into her palms.

Jennie’s voice carried through the vast arena, rich and aching, wrapping around every syllable like a confession. This wasn’t just a song. It never had been.

Y/N had spent the past week trying to avoid it, switching the radio station, leaving cafes when it played, pretending she didn’t recognize the melody. But here, now, there was no running.

Her lungs tightened, her body refusing to move, as if any small motion would shatter the fragile hold she had on herself.

Jennie stood beneath the spotlight, singing their story to an audience that would never understand what it meant. The lyrics unraveled between them, each word unearthing things Y/N had buried deep, late night conversations whispered between shared breaths, fingers laced together beneath trembling city lights, the weight of a promise that had never been kept.

"I didn’t leave ya, I still see ya..."

A flicker of something passed through Jennie’s expression.

She wasn’t just performing. She was remembering.

The weight of it hit Y/N all at once, a force so sudden and overwhelming that it felt like the air had been stolen from her lungs.

This wasn’t for the fans. It wasn’t for the press or the charts. No, this was something else entirely, something raw, something intimate, something meant for one person alone.

For her.

Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out the roar of the crowd, the lights, the thousands of eyes watching Jennie pour her heart into every note. A hand brushed against her arm, Wendy, a quiet attempt to steady her, but the touch barely registered. Y/N was already slipping, already spiraling, already being pulled back into a place she had sworn she would never go again.

The memories bled into her vision, sharp and vivid, slipping through the cracks she had tried so desperately to seal. Jennie laughing, head thrown back, warmth curling at the edges of her smile. Jennie whispering her name like it was something sacred. Jennie standing in the practice room, eyes wide, voice breaking on the words asking her to stay.

Her throat burned.

She clenched her jaw, willing herself to keep it together, but it was impossible when Jennie stood there, putting every ounce of herself into a song that had never stopped belonging to them.

The final chorus rose, a wave of sound crashing over the arena, but it was Jennie’s voice that cut through everything else. It wasn’t perfect, not in the way it usually was. There was something raw in it, a slight tremble hidden between the notes, a crack so faint that most wouldn’t notice. But Y/N did.

She felt it like a ripple in her chest, a pull deep in her ribs, as if the weight of Jennie’s voice alone was enough to unravel something she had fought to keep buried. It was in the way Jennie held herself, poised, effortless to anyone who wasn’t looking too closely, but Y/N saw the tension in her shoulders, the flicker of emotion in her gaze, the way her fingers curled ever so slightly around the microphone like she was holding on to something unseen.

And in that instant, every carefully constructed lie Y/N had told herself over the years began to crumble.

The distance she had put between them, the silence she had forced herself to accept, the belief that time would dull the ache, it had all been for nothing. Because no matter how far she had run, no matter how much she had tried to convince herself that she had moved on, the truth was right there, woven into every note Jennie sang.

Jennie Kim had never let her go.

The realization struck hard, pressing against her ribs, making it difficult to breathe. Y/N’s fingers tightened in her lap, nails digging into her palm, as if grounding herself could stop the way her pulse pounded against her skin. The weight of it was suffocating, terrifying, undeniable.

And worst of all, it wasn’t one sided.

Because as much as she had wanted to believe otherwise, as much as she had tried to move forward, as much as she had convinced herself that she had done the right thing, her body betrayed her. Her heart, hammering against her chest. Her hands, trembling where they rested. Her eyes, locked on the woman she had spent years trying to forget.

She had never let Jennie go either.

And now, with the music still ringing in her ears, with the memories clawing their way back to the surface, she wasn’t sure she ever would.

Y/N sits stiffly on the couch, fingers curled around the glass in her hands, the condensation damp against her skin. The ice has melted, pooling around her fingertips, but she barely notices. Her grip is tight, almost too tight, as if the glass is the only thing anchoring her in place. Around her, the room hums with energy, laughter, clinking drinks, the lingering excitement that always follows a concert of this scale. Voices rise and fall in waves, but they feel muffled, like she’s submerged underwater, like she’s observing the scene from behind glass rather than truly existing in it.

Irene and Wendy are still buzzing, animated in their conversation, their voices threaded with unfiltered joy. They’re already making plans, talking about heading backstage, about their turn to go see Jennie, about how incredible she was tonight. Y/N should join in, should laugh along, should pretend that she belongs in this space. Pretend that being here doesn’t make her feel like she’s standing at the edge of something dangerously steep.

She should go with them.

She should walk into that room, lift her chin, and pretend that time hasn’t twisted things between them. That she isn’t haunted by the past. That Jennie’s name doesn’t taste like nostalgia and regret every time it passes through her lips.

But the thought of it, of stepping into the same space as Jennie, of seeing her up close, of hearing her voice directed at someone else, warm and familiar, like Y/N was never a part of it, makes something in her stomach twist so violently she feels almost sick.

“I’ll stay here,” she says, forcing a smile that feels too tight, too rehearsed. “You guys go ahead.”

Irene hesitates. Wendy’s brows knit together. They don’t buy it.

“You sure?” Irene asks, already glancing toward the entrance leading backstage. “I mean, we can all—”

“I’m fine,” Y/N cuts in, light and easy, as if this is nothing. As if she isn’t unraveling at the edges just thinking about what waits on the other side of that door. She waves them off before they can argue, pasting on a look that she hopes is convincing. “Really. Go.”

They exchange a look, clearly unconvinced, but eventually, they relent.

Y/N watches them disappear into the crowd, their excitement carrying them forward. She waits, stomach tight, pulse steady and controlled. She keeps her posture relaxed, keeps her gaze focused on the swirl of bodies moving around the lounge, keeps herself still just long enough to be sure they won’t turn back.

Backstage is alive with the high of the concert, the air electric with celebration. The energy is infectious, staff members exchanging high-fives, dancers still breathless and exhilarated, the lingering echoes of the final song reverberating in their bones. Jennie should be basking in it, soaking in the afterglow of another unforgettable night.

“Y/N was here.” Rosé’s voice is quiet, almost careful, but it cuts through the noise like a blade.

Jennie freezes.

The world around her distorts, the sounds, the movement, everything suddenly muffled as if she’s been thrown underwater. Her pulse slams against her ribs, erratic and unsteady.

The words take a moment to register, but when they do, they land like a punch to the gut.

“What?” The word barely makes it past her lips.

Rosé looks at her, gaze searching, cautious. “She was here,” she repeats, voice gentle but firm, as if she already knows the impact this is about to have. “I saw her at the lounge. She didn’t come backstage, though. I think she left.”

Left.

Jennie swallows hard, but her throat is suddenly dry, the weight in her chest pressing down with something sharp, something almost unbearable. Y/N was here. She was here, in the same crowd, in the same space, breathing the same air. And she left.

Y/N left.

Jennie doesn’t remember making the decision to move. One second, she’s standing there, frozen, heart stuttering in her chest. Next, she’s pushing past people, slipping through the sea of bodies with single minded determination. Someone calls her name, congratulatory and bright, but she barely hears it.

There are things she’s supposed to do, press photos, a post-show debrief, a room full of people waiting to celebrate. But none of it matters.

She doesn’t care. She needs to know.

Her body moves on instinct, urgency propelling her forward, past the dressing rooms, past the equipment cases, past the dimly lit hallways that stretch toward the exit. Every step feels too slow, every second a widening gap between her and the answer she’s chasing.

She doesn’t stop to think. Doesn’t stop to consider what she’ll say, what she’ll do, if she even has the right.

She just runs.

The hallway is quiet.

Not the comforting kind of quiet, the kind that settles gently, that allows space to breathe. No, this quiet is sharp, heavy, pressing against Y/N’s skin like an unseen force, wrapping around her throat, making each breath feel just a little too shallow. The muffled hum of the arena lingers somewhere in the distance, but here, in this dimly lit corridor stretching toward the exit, there is nothing but the sound of her own footsteps.

She moves quickly, purposefully. One step, then another. Just a little further. She tells herself she won’t look back.

She almost makes it.

"And after all this time, you can’t even come say hi to me?"

The voice slices through the silence, smooth but edged, laced with something unmistakable, hurt, disbelief, something dangerously close to anger.

Y/N stops.

Her breath stutters, chest tightening as if invisible hands have reached inside, curling around her ribs. Her fingers twitch at her sides, a reflex, a tell.

Slowly, because she knows she has no choice, she turns.

Jennie stands a few feet away, still in her stage outfit, the remnants of performance clinging to her in the form of sweat-dampened hair and the subtle rise and fall of her breath. The stage lights may be gone, but they might as well still be shining on her, because she looks stunning, untouchable, every inch the Jennie Kim the world adores.

But Y/N doesn’t see the idol.

She sees the girl beneath it, the one whose eyes burn, dark and deep and brimming with something unspoken. The weight of that gaze settles over her like a storm, pressing against every carefully constructed barrier, seeping into the cracks she thought she had long since sealed shut.

The air between them is thick, charged, unstable. Years of silence, of distance, of unfinished conversations stretch out between them, coiling tight like a wire ready to snap.

Y/N swallows hard. Forces her spine to stay straight, her face unreadable. Tells herself to stay composed, to keep the past buried where it belongs.

But Jennie isn’t letting this go.

Not this time.

Y/N exhales sharply, pressing her nails into her palms as if the dull sting can ground her, keep her steady against the storm building in front of her. She forces herself to meet Jennie’s eyes, even as every instinct screams at her to look away.

"What do you want me to say?" she finally mutters, voice tight, brittle.

Jennie laughs, but there’s no warmth in it, just something hollow, something sharp enough to cut. "Maybe start with why you even came," she says, tilting her head, her expression unreadable. "If you were just going to leave again, why bother?"

"It was a mistake," Y/N blurts out, too quickly, too defensive. She hears it the moment it leaves her lips, the way it rings false, and from the flicker in Jennie’s gaze, she knows Jennie hears it too.

Jennie’s jaw tightens. "Right," she echoes, voice quieter now, but somehow heavier. "A mistake."

The word lingers between them, bitter and unforgiving.

Jennie shakes her head, her jaw tightening as something dark flickers across her face. “You always find a way to leave,” she says, her voice steady, but there’s something raw beneath it, something that cracks at the edges. “You show up just long enough to remind me you’re still out there, and then you disappear again like none of it ever mattered.”

Y/N flinches.

Because it’s not fair, but it’s not wrong either.

"It’s not like that," she says, but even she can hear the weakness in her own voice.

"Then tell me what it’s like," Jennie presses, stepping closer. The hallway feels smaller now, suffocating, as if the walls themselves are caving in. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like running away."

Silence.

Y/N’s breath shudders out of her. "I didn’t—"

"Coward."

The word is soft, almost a whisper. But it cuts deeper than any scream ever could.

Y/N’s chest tightens, a fresh wave of something painful curling in her stomach. She should leave. She should end this before it spirals into something neither of them can take back.

Jennie’s gaze shifts, just barely, something unreadable flickering in the depths of her eyes. And when she speaks again, her voice, her voice is different. Softer. Frayed at the edges, laced with something dangerously close to breaking.

"Do you know why none of my relationships ever worked out?"

Y/N doesn’t answer. She doesn’t think she can.

Jennie exhales sharply, shaking her head like she hates herself for saying it, like she already knows it’s too much, too late.

"Because none of them were you."

Y/N stops breathing.

Jennie lets out a quiet, shaky laugh, one that barely conceals the weight of the words that just shattered the last of the distance between them. "You’re my first love, Y/N. The one that still lingers in my heart. The one I never really let go of." Her voice wavers, but she doesn’t stop.

She can’t.

"Every time I tried, I just ended up leaving them. Because they weren’t you."

The confession settles between them like shattered glass, too sharp to step over, too painful to ignore.

Y/N’s throat closes, something clawing its way up her chest, something she doesn’t know how to contain.

Because this? This is what she always feared. This is what she never wanted to hear. Because there is no fixing this.

And they both know it.

Jennie isn’t done though.

She takes a step forward, and suddenly, the air shifts, crackling with something volatile, something just waiting to combust.

"You don’t even care, do you?" Jennie’s voice trembles, but not with sadness, this is something else. Something furious. "You stand there, acting like this is nothing to you. Like you didn’t just rip open a wound I’ve spent years trying to close."

Y/N swallows, but the lump in her throat refuses to go down. "I never wanted—"

"Don’t," Jennie cuts in, eyes burning. "Don’t tell me you never wanted to hurt me. You knew you would. You always knew. And you still left."

Y/N flinches, but Jennie presses on, the words tumbling out now, reckless and unrestrained. "Do you even feel anything, Y/N? Do you even care that I spent years wondering what the hell I did wrong? Why nothing was enough for you to stay?"

"Jennie"

"Do you know what it’s like to love someone who won’t even look at you?" Jennie’s voice breaks, but she doesn’t stop. She’s too far gone now. "To spend years convincing yourself they were just a dream, just a stupid, reckless mistake you were never meant to have?"

Y/N’s breath shudders out of her.

Because she does know. She knows all of it. She just never let herself say it.

"I looked at you," Y/N says, voice barely above a whisper. "More than you ever knew."

Jennie lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "Right. And that’s supposed to mean something now? After everything?"

Y/N exhales, shaking her head. "I didn’t know how to stay."

Jennie’s eyes darken, disbelief flashing across her face, her frustration spilling over, unchecked. “Didn’t know how?” Her voice is sharp, cutting through the space between them like a blade. “That’s bullshit. You knew how to leave. You knew how to disappear. You just never tried to stay.”

She takes a step closer, the weight of years pressing down on every word. “We could’ve found a way. We could’ve figured it out, been together without them knowing. But you never even gave us a chance.”

Y/N clenches her jaw, her own frustration rising to the surface, raw and messy. "You think it was easy for me?"

"You made it look easy," Jennie spits back, arms crossing over her chest, a poor shield for the way she’s unraveling. "You walked away like I was nothing. And now what? You show up after all these years and act like you’re some tragic ghost, like we’re just unfinished business and not a fucking disaster you caused?"

Silence.

Heavy. Unforgiving.

Y/N inhales sharply, hands shaking at her sides. She could say something cruel. She could end this right here, throw up every wall she’s spent years building. But none of that would be true.

Jennie exhales, some of the fight leaving her, but none of the fire. "Would you have stayed if I asked you to?"

The words cut through the tension, raw and unguarded.

For a second, Y/N almost lets herself lie. She almost reaches for something soft, something that could make this hurt less.

But there’s only one truth left to give.

"You did."

Jennie goes still. Her lips part slightly, like she wants to argue, like she needs to, but the answer is already there, carved into the silence between them.

She had asked and Y/N still left.

Jennie blinks, and for the first time since this confrontation started, the fight drains out of her. She looks at Y/N like she’s seeing her for the last time.

Maybe she is.

The silence between them is suffocating. Final. Jennie doesn’t stop her this time. Maybe she’s too tired. Maybe she finally understands that Y/N won’t stay.

This time, she doesn’t even ask her to.

Y/N walks away, and Jennie doesn’t watch her go. She just stands there, rooted in place, listening to the quiet click of the door shutting behind Y/N, the finality of it settling into her bones like an ache she’s long since learned to live with.

The gift bags sit untouched in the corner of Jennie’s house, an afterthought amid the soft glow of the dimmed lights and the quiet hum of the city beyond her windows.

The night stretches on, heavy and unrelenting, pressing into the spaces between her ribs, curling around the edges of her exhaustion. The adrenaline that had once surged through her veins, keeping her upright, keeping her moving, has long since faded. The roar of the crowd, the flashing stage lights, the euphoria of performing, it’s all nothing more than a distant echo now, swallowed by the vast, suffocating silence that fills the room.

And yet, despite the quiet, despite the stillness, something lingers, something she can’t shake. A weight in her chest, a dull ache that refuses to ease, a ghost of something she thought she had buried years ago.

She tells herself it’s nothing. That she’s just tired, that the concert drained her, that the remnants of the night are clinging to her skin like dust. She tells herself she won’t look inside the bags, that there’s nothing in it worth her attention, nothing worth losing sleep over. Just gifts. Just the usual things. Just meaningless tokens of appreciation, wrapped up in pretty paper and tied with silk ribbons.

And yet.

The hours drag on, the stillness stretching thin, fragile. She remains on the couch, motionless, her mind a battlefield of warring impulses. She shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t want to look. But the longer she sits there, the harder it becomes to ignore the way her gaze keeps drifting to that corner, to the forgotten bags sitting patiently in the shadows, waiting.

Eventually, she exhales, a slow, quiet surrender, and reaches for it.

Her fingers brush over the smooth edges, slipping past expensive perfumes, delicate jewelry, handwritten notes from friends who adore her. Everything feels distant, impersonal, nothing more than what she expected.

But then. Something different.

Not the weight of a designer box or the crispness of a formal letter. Something softer, thinner. Her brows knit together as her hand moves instinctively, fingers finding the texture of old paper tucked between folds of tissue. She freezes.

A thin envelope, barely noticeable, buried beneath the rest.

Her breath catches in her throat.

The handwriting, she recognizes it instantly.

A sharp, involuntary inhale.

Her chest tightens, her grip faltering as a tremor runs through her fingers. It feels impossible, like some cruel trick of the universe, like a fragment of the past has broken through time and landed in her hands.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Just stares down at the letters scrawled across the front, her pulse pounding so loudly that it drowns out everything else. And for a long moment, she doesn’t dare touch it. Because she knows. She knows what this is. Knows who it’s from.

And she knows that whatever’s inside will change everything.

A wound that had never quite closed threatens to split open all over again. She tells herself to put it down, to forget she ever saw it, to leave it buried in the past where it belongs. But her body betrays her.

Her fingers tighten around the edges.

And, against every ounce of self-preservation left in her, she unfolds the paper.

Jennie reads it once.

Then again. And again.

Her eyes trace the familiar curves of the handwriting, the ink pressed into the page by a hand she once knew better than her own. The words blur together, not because she doesn’t understand them, but because she understands them too well. They pull her under, deeper and deeper, until she’s drowning in memory, past and present colliding so violently she can no longer tell them apart.

She grips the letter tighter, as if holding it firmly enough might stop the ache rising in her chest, might keep her from unraveling completely. But it doesn’t. It only makes it worse.

Because this letter, it’s not just words on a page. It’s Y/N. It’s every unspoken conversation, every almost, every what if. It’s the version of them that never got the chance to exist, a piece of a love that never truly ended, just stretched thin over the years, frayed at the edges but never severed.

Her vision blurs, but one sentence stands out through the haze, clear and sharp as a blade. The last one.

"We will make up, make things right when we get older."

A promise. A belief that there would be more time, that eventually, one day, they would find their way back to each other. That what was broken could be fixed, that the love between them could withstand the years, the distance, the choices that pulled them apart.

Jennie’s breath shudders out of her, ragged and uneven, as if her body is struggling under the weight of the truth she’s tried so hard to avoid. Her fingers tremble, the delicate edges of the letter crinkling under her grip, but she doesn’t loosen her hold. She clutches it to her chest, pressing it against her heart like it’s the only thing keeping her together, like if she holds it tightly enough, she can stop herself from falling apart completely.

Like if she holds it tightly enough, maybe, just maybe, she won’t feel the empty space Y/N left behind. Maybe it won’t hurt so much. Maybe she’ll stop waiting for a door to open that was locked long ago.

But the truth settles in her bones, heavy and unyielding. There is no making up. No fixing things. No someday.

Only this. Only a letter written in a time when they still believed in second chances.

The night outside is still, heavy with the kind of quiet that settles deep into your bones. The city is alive somewhere in the distance, but in Jennie’s apartment, there is only silence.

Only the sound of her own breathing, uneven, too fast.

She sits on the edge of her couch, shoulders hunched forward, elbows pressing into her knees, the letter clutched so tightly in her hands that the paper is starting to curl beneath her fingers. The ink has smudged slightly from the heat of her grip, but it doesn’t matter. The words are already burned into her mind, impossible to forget.

A bitter laugh bubbles up in her throat, but it dies before it can escape.

Older was supposed to mean a future. A someday. A second chance waiting on the other side of all the things that had once stood between them. But the years had passed, the world had kept spinning, and Y/N had never come back.

Jennie had spent so long trying to forget, burying the ache beneath sold out shows, flashing cameras, voices calling her name. She had told herself it didn’t matter anymore, that some things are meant to be left behind.

But now, here it is. Unfolded in her hands. A wound torn back open, and Y/N is gone. Again.

Jennie exhales sharply, chest tightening as she stares down at the letter like it might suddenly rewrite itself, like it might change into something she can handle. But it doesn’t.

She feels sick.

Not because of what Y/N wrote. But because Y/N never said it. Never gave her a chance to fight. Never told her the truth when it mattered, when it could’ve changed things. She had just… left.

Like she always did.

Jennie squeezes her eyes shut, jaw locking, trying to breathe through the frustration clawing at her ribs. It doesn’t work. The silence is suffocating, pressing in on her, thick with all the words Y/N never said.

Then, before she can stop herself, before she can think, she grabs her phone. Her fingers move on instinct, opening her contacts, scrolling fast. She already knows what she’s looking for, who she’s looking for. But the moment she reaches the end of the list, her stomach drops.

Y/N’s name isn’t there.

Of course, it isn’t.

Jennie swallows against the lump in her throat, gripping her phone tighter. It shouldn’t surprise her, not after all these years. But somehow, it does. Somehow, the reality of it, the fact that Y/N is so far removed from her life that she doesn’t even have her number anymore, hits harder than she expects.

Her heart pounds in her ears, too loud, too much. She stares at her screen, fingers hesitating over the empty space, over nothing.

Then her jaw clenches.

Fine. There’s another way.

She flicks back to her contacts with renewed purpose, scrolling with intent. She stops at one name, barely even registers the hesitation before she presses call.

The line rings once.

Twice.

A rustling sound, then a groggy voice, hoarse with sleep, thick with confusion. “...Hello?”

Jennie doesn’t waste time. “Irene.” Her voice is sharp, controlled, but there’s a demand woven into it. A raw edge she can’t soften. “Give me Y/N’s address.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, Irene sighs, and Jennie can already hear the exhaustion in it. “Jennie, it’s late.”

“I don’t care.” She’s already standing, already grabbing her keys, yanking a hoodie over her head with jerky, impatient movements. She feels like she might combust if she stays still. “You knew, didn’t you? About the letter.”

Another pause. Irene doesn’t confirm it, but she doesn’t deny it either. That’s all Jennie needs to know.

She exhales harshly, fingers tightening around her phone. “Then you know I need to see her.”

A long silence stretches between them. Jennie waits, her pulse drumming against her ribs.

Then, finally, Irene speaks. Her voice is careful, slow. Like she’s bracing herself for what might happen next.

She gives Jennie the address, and Jennie doesn’t thank her. She doesn’t even say goodbye. She’s already moving, already shoving her feet into her shoes, already reaching for the door.

Outside, the city waits. But Jennie isn’t thinking about the streets stretching ahead of her, or the distance between them.

She’s only thinking about one thing.

This time, Y/N doesn’t get to run. This time, Jennie won’t let her.

Y/N stands by the window, arms wrapped around herself, staring out at the endless sprawl of the city. The lights shimmer below, stretching far beyond what her eyes can take in, a thousand lives moving at once, laughing, talking, living.

But inside this apartment, there is only silence.

She should feel lighter. Should feel relief. The letter is gone now, sitting in the hands it was meant for. The weight of it, the words she never had the courage to say out loud, should have lifted.

But it hasn’t.

If anything, it’s heavier now, sinking deep into her chest, pressing against her ribs like something clawing to get out. Because no matter how many times she tells herself she did the right thing, that she walked away so Jennie wouldn’t have to, so Jennie could move on, so Jennie could hate her and finally be free of this. It still feels like she’s suffocating.

Her gaze flickers toward the table, where her phone sits untouched, the screen dark. She hasn’t checked it in hours.

She could. She could pick it up, unlock it, see if there’s a message, a missed call, something.

But she doesn’t.

Maybe because she already knows the truth. That there won’t be anything there. That this is done. Or maybe, just maybe, because she’s afraid that there will be something.

That Jennie won’t let her go so easily.

She exhales sharply and turns away from the window, blinking against the burn in her eyes. Enough. She made her choice. She has to live with it.

Her feet move slowly, dragging across the wooden floor, each step heavier than the last. She is so, so tired.

But the night doesn’t stay silent for long.

The sharp, unrelenting knocks cut through the silence, sending a jolt straight down Y/N’s spine. The sound echoes through the apartment, rattling through the stillness, too loud, too sudden, too desperate.

She freezes.

The air shifts, thickens, pressing in on her from all sides. The walls feel smaller, the floor unsteady beneath her feet. Her heart lurches against her ribs, hammering so hard she can hear it in her ears, a frantic, uneven rhythm.

Another knock, louder this time, harder, shaking the door on its hinges. There is no hesitation in it, no patience left.

Her breath catches. She doesn’t need to check. Doesn’t need to move, doesn’t even need to think. She already knows who it is.

The knocking comes again, forceful, demanding, a silent refusal to be ignored.

And that’s when she hears it. A voice.

Low. Rough. Angry.

“Y/N.”

Not a question. Not a plea.

A demand.

Her breath catches, her fingers twitching at her sides. She could pretend she isn’t here. Let Jennie stand outside, let her knock until she gets tired, let this moment slip away like all the others.

But she knows Jennie. Jennie doesn’t let things go.

The space between them feels thin, like something fragile holding back the inevitable.

Y/N forces herself forward, each step slow, uncertain, the air growing heavier the closer she gets to the door. Her fingers wrap around the handle, tight, too tight. She hesitates. Just for a second.

Just long enough to wonder if she’s making another mistake.

She pulls it open, and there she is. Standing in the dim glow of the hallway, hoodie rumpled, hair messy, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Her hands are clenched at her sides. Her eyes are dark, stormy, burning. But it’s not just anger.

It’s betrayal. It’s hurt. It’s something else, something deeper, something breaking wide open right in front of Y/N’s eyes.

Jennie swallows hard, her jaw tight, the muscles in her throat working like she’s trying to hold something back. Her breath is sharp, her hands shaking where they curl into fists.

For a long, stretched moment, neither of them speak. The air crackles, charged with everything unsaid, with every word that was written in ink instead of spoken aloud.

Jennie exhales, sharp and unsteady.

“Say it to my face.”

A challenge.

And Y/N? Y/N doesn’t know if she can.

#kpop imagines #girl group imagines #gg x reader #kpop x reader #blackpink x reader #blackpink imagines #blackpink jennie #jennie x fem reader #jennie x reader #jennie kim x reader #jennie kim x fem reader #kim jennie x reader

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miumura · 4 months ago

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SORRY, I NEVER MEANT TO! ♡ 보이넥스트도어

( 𝓢 ) ﹕ when and how they get caught crushing on you

──── 0t6!boynextdoor x crush ! gn ! reader ╱ ⌕ fluff ∿ w. teasing wc. 2.7K+ ( 2791 ) ｡｡ thank you anon for requesting !! i kind of added onto your idea, so i hope you don’t mind and i hope i did your idea justice ♡ !! also, thank you alya for the song choice 😊

❛❛ 💬 ❞ 𝗦𝗢𝗣𝗛 > 𓂃 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗖𝗞 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗕𝗢𝗢𝗞𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗙 ⋮ 🪽

MYUNG JAEHYUN

HOW IT STARTED: jaehyun would naturally have the fear of getting caught crushing on someone—who wouldn’t? the thought alone made him hyper aware of his own actions, worried that his eyes might linger on you for too long or that his words might carry a meaning he hadn’t intended to slip out. but, at least for now, it wasn’t something he had to lose sleep over. with the way jaehyun openly expressed his affection toward others, it was almost second nature—practically a habit ingrained into who he was. so, even when he found himself cooing at you a little too long, no one ever questioned it. he had always been seen as someone outwardly expressive, never one to hold back his emotions, so there was truly nothing for him to hide behind. the only way he could ever get caught was if he slipped up himself—which was exactly what happened. it had started as one of those rants he usually kept to himself, the ones where he could go on endlessly about the little things you did, the things that made you you. but this time, he wasn’t talking to himself–this time, riwoo had heard everything.

HOW IT ENDED: once riwoo “accidentally” let it slip, jaehyun’s first instinct was to play it off—because of course whatever he said wasn’t meant like that. it was a misunderstanding. a slip-up. nothing more. but—just like anyone else would—he isn’t able to escape the teasing the other members give him. his efforts of “damage control” will only go down the drain the moment the others start acting like they knew you better than he did. a simple “what do you even know more about y/n than me?” was all it took. jaehyun would automatically get defensive and start racking up all the information he had stored in his brain—your favorite music artists, the specific habits you’d do when it comes to specific things, and even being able to reenact the exact way you act when you’re put in certain situations. to make matters even worse (or funnier—depends on what member you ask), he would be doing all of this while his arm was firmly linked with yours, as if your presence would strengthen his claims. so really, the others don’t even have to try—jaehyun would do the absolute most to prove he knew you best. with this kind of teasing, this gets all the interactions everyone (jaehyun and you included) could possibly want out of this.

PARK SUNGHO

HOW IT STARTED: sungho would never try to make it obvious if he had a crush. he’s the kind of guy that would keep this kind of secret to the very end, ensuring that nobody could know (especially if he was going to end up backing out from confessing). he refuses to get his hopes up, especially with the absolute menaces (lovingly) he calls his friends. he knows that deep down once the members find out, they would instantly become the worst (or best, depending on the perspective) hypemen imaginable. so, he is definitely careful when it comes to making sure he stays composed. he never stammers, never turns red, never gives them any reason to suspect a thing—sungho knows what he needs to do to make sure that doesn’t happen. but for all his careful planning, there’s one way to break at (or all) his cool—you. all it takes is you grabbing his arm to get his attention or throwing an unexpected compliment his way, especially in front of others. for that not to be done in private, his so-called composure instantly fades. with nothing but an awkward chuckle, stiffened posture, and eyes darted anywhere but at you, that’s how park sungho gets caught by everyone—easily.

HOW IT ENDED: sungho is definitely prime teasing material—the kind of guy who reacts just a little too easily, making it impossible for the others to resist messing with him. they wouldn’t necessarily try to make him jealous, but flustering him? oh, absolutely. It’s almost like a game to them—seeing how quickly they can turn him into a blushing mess, and really, it never takes long. the second he does something even remotely considerate for you—whether it’s offering his jacket, checking if you’ve eaten, or holding the door open—he’s instantly bombarded with knowing looks and exaggerated “oohs.” so, if anything, sungho is doing anything to make sure they don’t say anything around you that could have a double meaning for his own sake. he tries so hard to stand his ground, pulling out the classic “it’s not what you think!” or “you’re seriously overanalyzing this.” and honestly, nobody believes him. but, with jaehyun, being the absolute menace he can be, he doesn’t just tease–he also plots. he always gets you involved in the most “subtle” (read: not subtle at all) ways. he’ll always pair you two together for things, casually nudge you to brush sungho’s hair out of his face, or set up situations where you’re the only one paying attention to him. anything to make sungho go red. it’s safe to say that it works all of the time and he hates loves it.

LEE SANGHYEOK

HOW IT STARTED: riwoo naturally tries hiding his feelings, but the shift in his energy whenever you’re around only gives it away. it’s not that he becomes nervous or fidgety–it’s the complete opposite. he relaxes. the tension in his shoulders eases, his voice softens, and his usual sharp focus on everything else fades, replaced by an unshakable awareness that you are in his presence. it’s the subtle things that give him away. the way his eyes instinctively follow your movements, how his expression almost unconsciously lightens when you enter the room. if you’re not there, there’s always a slight dip in his move–a sigh, a quick press of his lips together before he shakes it off and forces himself to focus on what he was doing again. so, when riwoo has a crush, he doesn’t just think about you–he thinks for you. if he bought the latest donut versions, he wonders if you would also like his favorites. if he’s listening to music, he wonders if you’d enjoy the choreography he’d make for it. it’s like you occupy an entire part of his brain that just won’t shut off. and when he’s around you, his mission is simple–make you smile. even if it means cracking the worst joke of his life, even if it barely makes sense, as long as he gets that reaction from you, it’s worth it. and with taesan noticing the rampage of jokes riwoo has been saying recently, he’s smart enough to know that something is going on. the moment he knows, taesan is already preparing himself to have the talk with riwoo before letting the rest of the members in on the secret.

HOW IT ENDED: once everyone finds out, riwoo immediately becomes more cautious. every move he makes around you is now calculated—or at least, he tries to make it that way. he knows that anything even slightly affectionate will be met with endless teasing, so he hesitates more than usual. but that doesn’t stop the others from commenting on his shy behavior. the second riwoo says or does anything remotely smooth, it’s over for him. the moment you leave, the members take turns nudging him, smirking as they ask, “what was that?”—mocking the way he unconsciously softened his voice when he spoke to you, the way his hands hovered for just a second too long when passing something to you. and even if he chooses to show any hesitation, that doesn’t stop them from their teasing. it’s easy to catch riwoo flustered—ask him a question about you and his face warms instantly, and he’s forced to spit something out—anything—even if his words come out a little rushed, a little awkward, a little too obvious. riwoo—thanks to taesan—barely has time to think before all eyes are on him for an answer. so, when it comes to displaying romantic gestures, you can already imagine riwoo praying that they show some mercy on him (spoiler alert: they never will).

HAN DONGMIN

HOW IT STARTED: when taesan gets a crush on somebody, he’s surprisingly open about it–but only once he’s sure his feelings are the real deal…and completely unsalvageable. until then, he is stuck in overthinking mode all the time. everything–absolutely everything–starts to become a potential sign. if your hands brushed his for a few seconds, was it by accident or done on purpose (and we all know what answer he is most leaning towards)? does the way you text with extra letters and random caps mean anything? every interaction lingers in his mind for the rest of the day, sometimes longer if he convinces himself there must be a deeper meaning behind it. and the funniest part? taesan thinks he’s so good at hiding it. however, the way he zones out mindlessly on his own with a blank look, it’s practically a dead giveaway that something is up. leehan, the observant one, is the first one to notice his odd behavior. at first, he tries to snap taesan out of it gently—calling his name, waving a hand in front of his face. but after the millionth time of being ignored, he resorts to nudging his bandmate hard. and that’s when taesan, without thinking, blurts out, “do you think y/n meant something with that?” …and the that in question was you buying him a snack during his break. once leehan realizes that taesan was dead serious, that’s when even he knows that there’s no saving him now. han taesan is too far gone.

HOW IT ENDED: as taesan’s crush on you starts to become known to the rest–thanks to the other members–his internal conflict only grows stronger. with them being involved, his emotions bubble up, and it’s a mix of joy, confusion, and honestly, stress. does he feel happy now that he can bother anyone with his long rants about you? or is he simply overwhelmed by all the teasing and overanalyzing of every single interaction he has with you? who knows… but it’s definitely both at once. every time you’re around, they feed into his overthinking, fueling his doubts and flustered state with their constant comments. it’s enough to drive anyone mad—especially if leehan is constantly telling him that you feel the same way with his (hopefully not) out of reach explanations. he would definitely try to get the members to stop, but the way he tries to stay composed only gets them to want to do even more. so, they are relentless–hyping up every shared glance between you two, every word you share with him, and even the smallest gestures, like when you refill his water bottle for him. whenever something even remotely “romantic” happens, they all pretend to be oblivious—only to secretly take pictures of taesan’s red-faced, flustered expression, sending them to the group chat with one simple sentence: "looks like someone is in love." and well? at least they aren’t wrong about that–taesan can’t help but get lost in the thought of you.

KIM DONGHYUN

HOW IT STARTED: leehan, at first glance, he seems unreadable, someone who can effortlessly hide his emotions. his words don’t always match his demeanor—so when someone casually brings you up in conversation, and he simply shrugs and says, “yeah, I like them,” which it doesn’t exactly scream romantic interest. If anything, his calm expression and even-toned voice make it seem like he’s speaking in the most platonic way possible. so, naturally, people assume that if leehan did have a crush, he’d be impossible to figure out. but… is it really that hard? is it really that hard to notice the way his head instantly perks up by the sound of your voice? how his gaze softens when you’re around, his eyes practically glossed over with adoration? it’s always the little things that give leehan away as his attention always naturally gravitates towards you. so, when woonhak first saw the first few signs, he slowly started to understand the given situation. he had watched the subtle shifts in leehan’s expression, the way he unconsciously reacts to you, and he knew… which still, what is better than knowing from the actual source, right? so, when woonhak notices how he turned silent and avoidant after pulling leehan away for a conversation, that’s when woonhak had his answer that he was annoyingly going to let the others know easily.

HOW IT ENDED: leehan has never been the type to argue just for the sake of it. if something is true, he won’t deny it—though, in this case, he wants to. leehan wants to refute the teasing, to brush it all off like it’s nothing. but the words—they’re barely at the tip of his tongue. and even if he did say nothing and attempts to block out their voices, his body language betrays him completely. the way his shoulders stiffen, the way the tips of his ears burn red, the way his eyes widen just a little too much—it’s fuel for the others to keep going. it’s always, “look he’s flustered!” or “did you see the way he was with y/n?”, which always throws him off the tracks. but, if leehan thinks that they only tease him because he hasn’t made any moves, he is clearly mistaken. whenever he lingers, hesitating over whether to do something sweet, the others loudly start talking amongst themselves, commenting on his every move as if he can’t hear them. but despite all of this, despite the relentless teasing and loud whispers (which, let’s be real, aren’t even whispers at this point), leehan still manages to push through. he still finds ways to approach you, still follows through on little gestures that he wants to make, even if it means enduring the aftermath.

KIM WOONHAK

HOW IT STARTED: woonhak thinks he’s being subtle. really, he does. he tries so hard to act normal, to not make it obvious that you have him wrapped around your finger—but it’s painfully clear that he’s hiding something. woonhak always makes you an absolute priority. so, with whatever you want–if he could–he would get it for you. all you had to do was utter two words, “i need”, and he’s instantly up and running. before you can even finish your sentence, he’s back—arms comically full, balancing a blanket, snacks, a filled water bottle, and somehow, your favorite show has already been queued up on his laptop. it’s honestly a miracle he manages to carry all of it without dropping anything. it’s even more surprising because when the others ask him for a favor, woonhak grumbles, sighs, maybe throws in a dramatic complaint before begrudgingly doing it anyway. but when it’s you? you rarely even get to hear a tone of refusal from him. the way he’s so eager to help (or be with) you, it gets sungho’s gears in his head to start turning. so, it’s only fair for sungho to tell the others about it just so he’s not the only one overanalyzing this.

HOW IT ENDED: along with sungho, woonhak is easily one of the best candidates for getting a reaction that anyone would look forward to when teasing. the other members have a literal field day once they find out that woonhak really likes you. once woonhak accidentally slips up about even the slightest thing about you—whether it be a random thought or simply bringing you up—the others are never living it down. it doesn’t matter what woonhak says or does; the others might pretend to take him seriously for a moment, but within minutes, they’re right back to their usual antics, teasing him relentlessly after any interaction he has with you. it’s almost as if every teasing method in the book gets used on him. sometimes, they’ll drop your name out of nowhere just to see how he reacts—cue woonhak falling for it every single time. other times, they’ll perfectly mimic his little habits, like fixing his hair or fussing with his clothes whenever you’re around, exaggerating every movement made. and the worst part? they don’t stop at just copying him. if woonhak so much as tries to be romantic, they’ll reenact the moment in the most over-the-top way possible, dramatically exaggerating his every word and gesture until he’s practically begging them to stop. and with that statement coming from woonhak, they agree under one condition: woonhak has to confess to you. only then, they could finally stop (to which they knew, they won’t).

‘💬’ ─── is this love by xg is stuck in my head

BND PERM TAGLIST (OPEN) — @juyeoz @j4d @itsactuallylina @rizzwoos @coiwony @htaesan @macapunoz @pumpkg

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wholoveseggs · 4 months ago

Note

(Quick note: I typed this all out using Elijah’s name but I wanted to say if you don’t think this would fit his character, I think this could also make sense with Kol. Don’t feel pressured to write anything!!)

Hello Lissa! I had an idea about reader and Elijah’s first time together but reader is also a virgin. I know that you’ve wrote a lot of readers first time fics with Elijah but it’s such a sweet trope and I absolutely love how he takes care of the reader in your writing.

How much do you know about dragons? (Don’t worry this isn’t going that way.) In a lot of myths and legends dragons are described as being attracted to virgins because of their purity. My idea is that the latest threat looming over their heads is some type of dragon and no one is too worried about being taken because none of them are virgins and they assume reader isn’t either. But Elijah, being her best friend notices the way her heart begins to race everytime they mention it and all of her other little nervous habits and pulls her to the side. She ends up confessing the truth to him and he tells her it’s nothing to be ashamed of and then after a bit of conversation offers to take her virginity. For safety reasons, obviously, or at least that’s what he’s telling himself. With an eventual confession between them about their actual feelings.

For Safety Reasons

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Kol Mikaelson x f!reader} A dark legend. A looming threat. And Kol Mikaelson offering a very unconventional solution.

♡♡ Hellooo sweet anon!! I decided to use Kol for this one, mostly for the banter hehe.. enjoy xoxo ~ ♡♡

6k words - Warnings: Smuttt, virgin reader, first time, lots of teasing, oral (f!receiving), Kol being unbearably good at it..., blood-drinking, friends-to-lovers but still pretending it’s casual, a brief Elijah cameo (I can't help myself) cocky yet affectionate Kol, lot's of giggles and awkwardness && maybe a dragon...

Chaos was the order of the day in New Orleans. Strange rumors had been circulating throughout the French Quarter about something that was wreaking havoc on the city and no one seemed to have a clue about what it could be. It had been targeting young people and killing them in the night, leaving behind nothing more than a bloodied pile of flesh and bones.

Naturally, this caused quite a stir amongst the supernatural residents of the city, and they were all eager to get rid of the threat. Even the witches had no idea what it was, which meant that the problem wasn't going to go away easily.

And that was why a meeting was called in the compound, by Klaus. He needed all of the factions to come together and discuss how they were going to fix this problem.

You were sitting with Kol, whose nose was deep in an old book. You weren't even sure what kind of book it was. It was in a language you couldn't understand, and so old you feared it would poof into dust under Kol's very hands.

"Whatcha reading?" you asked him, leaning against his side a little.

Kol didn't answer you right away, and when he did, it was only to mutter the word 'purity' under his breath.

"Purity?" you questioned. "What are you talking about? What does this have to do with the attacks?"

He didn't look up at you. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and you could tell he was working something out in his head. "Nothing. It's probably nothing."

You looked at him in confusion.

"It's just an old legend about dragons...It's an archaic notion," Kol answered. "A myth. A legend. An idea that was created centuries ago."

"An idea? What do you mean?" You were getting more and more confused.

Before he could explain anything further, Klaus stood up from his seat, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

Kol set his book down on the table, and you noticed an intricate drawing of some sort of reptile-humanoid creature. It was hideous looking, with sharp teeth, claws, and bat-like wings.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from the page, even as Klaus began to explain the killings happening in the city. Something about this creature just drew you in. The ink on the page seemed darker the longer you stared at it, the jagged lines of its claws curling as if ready to tear into something...or someone. You shivered, unable to shake the feeling that it was watching you.

"Do we have any leads on what this is? What is its weakness?" One of the witch leaders spoke up.

"If we did, it would already be dead," Klaus retorted.

"Perhaps we should stop trying to track it down, and instead focus on figuring out what it wants," Elijah suggested. "If we know what it wants, perhaps we can negotiate with it."

"What makes you think this thing can be negotiated with?" another witch demanded. "We have no idea what its agenda is. Why are these young people being targeted? Why hasn't anyone seen this thing?"

"Perhaps there's a link we haven't found yet," Kol chimed in. "Something we're missing."

"You sound like you already have an answer, brother," Klaus said. "Speak your mind."

"It's more of a theory, really," Kol admitted. "One based on legends."

"Let's hear it," Elijah prompted.

"Right, so, the victims. They're all young, yes? Unmarried?"

The room fell silent as the supernatural residents of the city nodded.

"What if it's...what if they're all..." Kol trailed off.

"All what?" Klaus demanded.

"Virgins," Kol finished.

Silence fell once more as the room considered Kol's words.

"So, what, this thing enjoys a virgin sacrifice? Is that what you're suggesting?" Klaus's voice was incredulous.

"I'm saying this creature feeds on innocence. On purity." Kol gestured to his book. "According to legend, dragons enjoy the dark and they are drawn to virgins. They're a delicacy, apparently."

Elijah hummed thoughtfully, reaching for the book Kol had been studying. He flipped through the fragile pages, his brows knitting together in concentration. “If that’s true,” he mused, “then we may have a way to predict its next victim.”

A slow, dawning horror crept through you as the conversation continued around you. No one in the room seemed particularly concerned… Why would they be? The assumption was clear: none of them fit the criteria.

But you did.

Your heart kicked against your ribs, your fingers tightening in your lap. You forced yourself to stay still, to breathe evenly. The last thing you needed was anyone noticing how much this conversation was affecting you.

Unfortunately, Kol noticed everything.

He had been watching you as soon as he mentioned the word virgins. At first, he thought maybe you were just unnerved by the idea of a beast roaming the streets, but then he saw the way your breathing had shifted, the way you refused to meet anyone’s eyes. Most telling of all? The rapid, frantic rhythm of your pulse. This was more than that…

Realization flickered in his dark eyes, something unreadable passing over his face before he leaned toward you, voice low and teasing. “What’s got you all jumpy, darling?”

You stiffened. “Nothing.”

Kol tilted his head, amusement dancing on the edge of his smirk, but there was something deeper beneath it now… something knowing.

“You sure about that?” His voice was softer now, more serious. “Because I could’ve sworn your heart nearly burst out of your chest a second ago.”

Your throat felt too tight. You could feel the weight of his stare, could practically hear the thoughts clicking into place behind his dark eyes. He knew. You had to get out of here before anyone else picked up on your growing panic.

You pushed up from your seat, trying to make a quiet escape, but Kol was already on his feet, catching your wrist before you could slip away. His grip was gentle but firm, and the warmth of his fingers sent another unwanted shiver through you. “Come with me,” he murmured, already steering you toward the hall.

You barely registered the questioning look Elijah sent your way before Kol tugged you through the compound, weaving through its corridors until you were somewhere quieter, more private. Only when he was satisfied that no one could overhear did he turn to face you fully.

“Tell me,” he said, voice low but insistent. “Tell me why you reacted like that.”

You hesitated, staring at the floor, but Kol wasn’t having it. He took a step closer, crowding into your space just enough to demand your attention. “Darling,” he pressed, “are you a virgin?”

You sucked in a sharp breath, your entire body tensing.

Kol let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

He looked back at you, his usual playfulness tempered by something else… Concern? Possessiveness? Whatever it was, it sent your pulse racing even faster.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” he continued, his tone serious.

You nodded, barely able to speak past the lump in your throat. If the legends were true, you were exactly what this thing was hunting.

Kol cursed under his breath, rubbing a hand over his jaw. Then, in true Kol fashion, he exhaled heavily and shot you a wicked smirk. “Well, love, there’s an easy way to solve this problem.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

Kol arched a brow. “I mean, it’s simple. If this thing is only after virgins, all we have to do is make sure you’re not one anymore.”

Your stomach flipped. “Y-you cannot be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious.” His smirk widened, but there was something else in his eyes now, something unreadable. He shrugged, feigning casualness. “Think about it. It’s not a bad idea.”

You gawked at him. “Not a bad idea? That’s your solution?”

Kol leaned in, voice dropping to something dangerously low. “What? You don’t trust me to take care of you?”

Your lips parted, your brain struggling to catch up. Kol had always been a flirt, but this was different. His teasing carried weight, an offer laced in his words.

For safety reasons, obviously.

At least, that’s what you were telling yourselves.

Your cheeks warmed. You wanted to tell him no, wanted to shove him away and storm off. But the heat pooling low in your belly begged to differ. And, as much as you hated to admit it, Kol had a point.

If the creature was only targeting virgins, then losing your virginity could be the solution. The easiest, most convenient solution. And with Kol... Well... It wasn't exactly like you were opposed to the idea.

Still, the whole situation was enough to have you shaking. Your hands twisted in your skirt, a nervous habit Kol was quick to notice.

He sighed, expression softening, and reached out to gently cup your cheek. He rubbed his thumb along your jaw, his touch warm and soothing.

"Or you can die a horrible bloody death? I mean... If you are that disgusted by me," he teased.

You huffed, shoving him. "Ass."

He laughed, tugging you closer and leaning in until his breath was ghosting across your lips. "So, what'll it be, darling?"

You bit your lip, staring up at him. There were so many reasons why this was a terrible idea, but none of them felt important anymore.

"Where?" You asked so softly, that normal hearing would have missed it.

Kol didn't miss it, and his eyes lit up with a hunger that sent a fresh wave of heat through you. He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Tonight," he promised. "My room. Just after sunset."

"Sounds romantic," you replied, it meant to sound sarcastic, but came out a bit breathier than intended.

He smirked, squeezing your hand. "See you tonight, darling."

"Yeah," you whispered, heart hammering wildly as he let go of you and disappeared back down the hall.

Your palms were sweaty, your skin tingling where he touched you. You weren't sure if you were excited or terrified. Probably both.

All you could hope for is that you weren't making a huge mistake.

Kol's room was located in the attic of the compound. It was a smaller space, with a slanted ceiling and a large cosy bed tucked into the corner. It was simple, compared to the rest of the house, but it was undeniably Kol.

Your gaze swept over the cluttered surface of his desk, over the stacks of books and notebooks, the old photos and the trinkets from his travels.

"See anything you like?"

You whirled around, heat spreading through your cheeks. Kol was leaning against the doorway, his dark eyes sweeping over you. Why?!! Why did he have to look so good in just his t-shirt and a pair of jeans? It was not fair.

But you pulled yourself together enough to tease him back, "Rather odd choice of bedroom, all the way up here with the spiders."

Kol scoffed, shutting the door behind him. "I'll have you know I quite enjoy the solitude. Besides, no one will hear us from all the way up here."

You tried not to focus on the last part, but failed miserably. He was grinning at you with that same mischievous smirk he always wore, and you had no doubt he knew the effect his words were having on you.

"So... Uhh. How are we doing this?" You asked awkwardly, feeling the need to break the silence.

"Hmm." Kol walked past you, settling down on the edge of his bed and looking up at you with a devilish glint in his eyes. "Well, that's entirely up to you, darling."

He reached out his hand and pulled you into his lap, and a soft squeak escaped you at the sudden motion. You shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the feeling of his hard chest pressed against your back was doing nothing to ease the butterflies in your stomach and Kol's smirk widened.

"What is it?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Do I make you nervous?"

You huffed. "Just not used to...being this close, is all."

"We've cuddled before," he pointed out, his hand sliding further down your side, resting just above your hip.

"Not like this... That was a friendly snuggle. This is a..." You paused, not sure how to finish the sentence.

"Snuggle with benefits?" Kol supplied, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Sure," you giggled. "Something like that."

He chuckled, pressing a light kiss against your neck. Then he gently lifted you and moved you into the center of the bed, so that you were lying down and he was hovering above you, braced on his arms. "So, do I?" He murmured.

"Do you what?"

"Make you nervous."

You swallowed. "No," you lied, and he chuckled again, leaning in until his lips were ghosting over yours.

"Really?"

You nodded.

"So, if I kissed you right now..." He trailed off, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

You held your breath, heart pounding.

"...That would be fine with you?"

"Uh huh."

"Okay," he breathed. Then his mouth was on yours, warm and gentle and so full of tenderness that you couldn't help the moan that escaped you.

He smiled into the kiss, his hands moving down your sides, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him. The sensation of his body pressed against yours sent a rush of heat through you, and you arched into him, eager for more.

He slid a hand underneath your shirt, his palm brushing against the bare skin of your stomach, and the contact was enough to make you shudder. He groaned, pulling back just enough to whisper against your lips.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you panted. "Just... sensitive."

"In a good way?" he teased, and you rolled your eyes, pushing at his chest.

"Don't get cocky."

He laughed, kissing you again and shifting his hips against yours, and the feeling of his hardness grinding against your core had you moaning into his mouth.

"You seem to like my cockiness," he teased, rolling his hips again and you whimpered, burying your face in his neck.

"Shut up."

"Never," he growled, kissing your cheek and pulling back just far enough to strip his shirt off and toss it to the floor. You had seen Kol shirtless countless times before, but this was different.

You ran a hand over his stomach, marveling at the feel of his abs flexing beneath your fingertips. You traced a line down the center of his chest, letting your nails scrape lightly against his skin.

"I guess you are pretty fit," you teased, and he smirked.

"You don't need to guess," he purred. "I know you think I'm hot."

You scoffed. "You are not getting a bigger ego, I won't allow it."

"It's too late," he said, capturing your mouth again, kissing you deep and slow. He shifted his weight onto one arm, trailing the other down the side of your body, tracing a line down to your waist.

"Now," he whispered, his fingers trailing along the hem of your shirt, teasingly skimming beneath the fabric. "Can I see more of you?"

You bit your lip, nodding.

He lifted your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. His eyes roamed hungrily over your exposed skin, and the sight of his pupils dilating made your pulse skip.

You barely had time to register the rush of cool air against your skin before Kol’s hands slid up your sides, his fingers toying with the straps of your bra.

"May I?" His voice was softer now, patient, but the heat in his gaze made your stomach flip.

You nodded hesitantly, but as soon as he reached behind you, unclasping it with ease, a fresh wave of shyness flooded through you. You instinctively crossed your arms over your chest, cheeks burning.

Kol let out a soft, amused chuckle. "Oh, darling," he murmured, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear. "No need to be shy. You’re breathtaking."

You bit your lip, hesitating. His hands gently traced the curve of your arms, coaxing them away, his expression utterly captivated. He pressed a gentle kiss against your shoulder, then traced a path with his lips, following the curve of your collarbone. His touch was light and careful, as if he were afraid of hurting you.

Your hands tangled in his hair, half-heartedly trying to tug him away. "Kol..."

"Yes?" He hummed as he kissed his way down the center of your chest, pausing just above the valley of your breasts.

"Y-you don't have to do that...I'm fine, really," you stuttered, cheeks flaming.

"Did you think I was just going to shove my cock in you unceremoniously and be done with it?" Kol chuckled.

"I... well..."

"That is not my way," he assured, his lips ghosted over the swell of your breast, his warm breath teasing you.

You didn't get a chance to respond, because his tongue found your nipple, and all coherent thought fled.

He circled it slowly, sucking gently, his other hand finding your breast, massaging the soft flesh. He teased and played, switching between the two until both of your nipples were hard and aching.

His lips were soft and warm and so damn perfect, and you could feel the heat of his tongue as he moved further down your body, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the way.

His fingers hooked in the waistband of your skirt, sliding the fabric down over your thighs and tossing it onto the floor. His lips traveled over your stomach, nipping lightly at your hip bones.

"Really.. you don't have to, Kol," you said weakly, despite the fact that every cell in your body was screaming at him to keep going.

He ignored your protests, his dark eyes flicking up to meet yours as he placed a kiss right above the hem of your panties.

"These are cute, did you wear them just for me?" He murmured, tracing the edge with his thumb.

"N-no," you stammered, and he chuckled.

"You're a terrible liar."

"Maybe you should stop asking me questions then," you shot back, and he smirked.

He lifted your thighs, draping them over his strong shoulders, his eyes locked on yours.

"Can I?" He purred, and the sight of his dark gaze, framed by your legs, had your heart pounding.

You nodded, and he rewarded you by dipping his head, running his tongue slowly over your clothed sex. The heat and smell of you sent a shudder through him, and he groaned, pulling you closer.

He licked and sucked, his tongue pressing against the soaked fabric, teasing your clit. He could feel the way it swelled under his touch, and the sound of your breathy moans was making him painfully hard.

“You are so lovely,” he murmured against the damp lace, his breath hot and teasing. He placed another slow, deliberate kiss over the fabric before glancing up, mischief glinting in his dark eyes. “Are you sure you want me to stop?”

You let out a shaky exhale, fingers tightening in his hair. “I…I never said stop.”

Kol smirked, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pressed another kiss to your inner thigh, scraping his teeth lightly against your skin. “Good girl,” he purred, and the two simple words sent a wave of heat pooling deep in your belly.

Without further teasing, he hooked his fingers beneath your panties and dragged them down your legs, his gaze locked onto yours the entire time. You swore you could feel the weight of his stare, the way he was drinking you in like a man starved.

Then his hands were on your thighs again, urging them apart, and he lowered his mouth to your aching core, licking a slow, deliberate path from your entrance up to your clit.

You gasped, and he chuckled, repeating the motion and adding more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow, pleasure pulsing through you as he worked his tongue over you. His movements were practiced and sure, like he already knew exactly what you liked, and your breath caught in your throat as his tongue slid lower, circling your entrance before pushing inside.

The feeling was unlike anything you had experienced before, and you couldn't stop the desperate whimpers from spilling past your lips. He rubbed your clit with his thumb, his eyes flicking up to watch your face as he lapped at you. You looked down at him and the sight of him buried between your legs, his dark hair falling in his face, his cheeks flushed with need, was enough to have you coming apart.

Your orgasm hit hard, ripping through you with an intensity that had you crying out, trembling under the force of his skilled mouth. He didn't let up, didn't pull away, just kept working his tongue until your back was arching. You feared you would pull out his hair with how tightly you were gripping it, but his muffled groan and the way his tongue was thrusting deeper inside you only urged you on.

You came again, the second one more intense than the first. By the time he was finished, your thighs were quivering, and you were a panting, sweaty mess.

"Fuck," you gasped, and Kol chuckled, placing a light kiss on your inner thigh.

You slowly caught your breath, and Kol kissed his way back up your body, pressing his lips against your throat.

"Still nervous?" He murmured, and you shook your head, wrapping your arms around him.

"Not even a little," you said, and his lips curved into a smile.

"Good," he said, and then his mouth was on yours, his tongue brushing against yours, and you could taste yourself on his lips. "You are such a pretty little thing, darling. So fucking perfect."

"Shut up, you don't have to be charming, it's just me."

He smiled, brushing his nose against yours. "No, darling, I want to. I'm going to make this good for you."

"Kol..." You didn't know how to tell him that it was already better than anything you could have imagined.

He kissed you again, softer this time, his fingers tangling in your hair.

"I promise I will go slow, okay?" He whispered, and you nodded, biting your lip.

He slid a hand between you, unbuckling his jeans and pushing them down over his hips. You took in the sight of him, the muscles of his stomach flexing, the faint lines of his abs, the v shape that disappeared into his boxers.

He was hard, and you could see the outline of his length straining against the fabric. It made you a little dizzy, seeing how much he wanted you, and you swallowed, reaching out to run a hand down his stomach.

"I want you to know...," he began, and you looked up, meeting his eyes. "I'm not just doing this because I want to protect you."

You bit your lip, fighting back a smile.

"I also happen to really, really, want to fuck you." He added.

You giggled. "So eloquent."

"What can I say, I'm a poet at heart."

You laughed again, and he leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss.

"If I do anything you don't like," he murmured against your mouth, his hand sliding down the side of your body. "Or if you want to stop, just tell me, and I'll stop, okay?"

You nodded, and he kissed you again, one of his hands was planted beside your head, holding him up, while the other was freeing his cock from his boxers. You could feel his erection pressing against your inner thigh, and the sensation sent a wave of heat washing through you.

"Kol, wait, before we..." You began, and he froze.

"What's wrong?"

"I want you to bite me," you blurted.

"Rather kinky for the first time," he teased as he gently spread your legs, settling between them. "We can work our way up to that,"

You blushed at the way he was looking at you, his gaze roaming over your bare form. This was it, there was no going back now. Not that you wanted to.

He brushed his nose against yours, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "My sweet darling," he murmured, and you melted into his touch.

He reached down, grabbing himself and giving his length a few lazy strokes. You spread your legs a little wider, and he positioned himself, his tip brushing against your entrance.

Kol let out a deep, satisfied groan as he eased himself fully inside you, his forehead dropping against yours. The stretch burned, but it wasn’t unbearable… more like an unfamiliar pressure, a new sensation that left you gasping for breath.

"Well," he exhaled, voice low and teasing against your lips. "That was the big event. Congratulations, you are no longer a virgin."

You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers curling into his hair. "Well, I guess we’re done here then," you shot back, mimicking his tone.

Kol huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he nudged your nose with his own. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his hips rolling forward just slightly, making you gasp. "We’ve only just begun."

Your body twitched beneath him, still adjusting, and he paused, watching your face carefully. "Still with me, darling?"

You swallowed, nodding. "Yeah… just, um, a lot all at once."

Kol smirked, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. "That’s the idea, love."

He started moving, slow and measured at first, his hands gripping your hips as he tilted your body just right beneath him. The feeling was overwhelming, the sensation of him moving inside of you making your breathing increase.

"That’s it," Kol praised, his tone smug as he watched your expression shift. "I knew you would feel so good around me."

You huffed, biting back a moan as he rolled his hips again, this time a little deeper. "You just have to make everything about yourself, don’t you?"

Kol chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your throat, his lips lingering over your pulse. "Would you have me any other way?"

You wanted to argue, but the way he angled his thrusts perfectly against that growing ache inside you stole your breath, leaving you clutching at his shoulders instead.

Damn him.

"You’re taking me so well, darling," he murmured against your skin, his hand skimming down your thigh to hook your leg around his waist, deepening the angle.

Your moan was borderline embarrassing, and Kol grinned like a man who had just won the lottery.

"Shut up," you mumbled, flustered by his smugness.

"I haven’t even said anything," he teased, rolling his hips again, sending a sharp wave of pleasure through you.

You whimpered, arching into him, and he groaned, his mouth finding your collarbone, nipping at the skin there. His fangs scraped against you lightly, and you wanted to feel them sink into you.

"Kol," you breathed, voice hushed.

He glanced up at you, slowing his thrusts just slightly. "Hmm?"

Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch. His lips hovered against your throat, his fangs still barely grazing the sensitive skin there.

"Please… I want you to…," you whispered.

Kol’s body stilled completely.

His dark eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching. “Darling…" His voice had lost its usual teasing lilt, dipping into something rougher, more serious.

"I mean it," you murmured, stroking your thumb along his cheek. "I want to feel you."

Kol swallowed hard, his restraint visibly slipping. "Are you sure?"

You nodded, tilting your head to the side in silent invitation, your eyes closed, heart racing.

He watched you for a moment, the way your chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, the way your pulse jumped under your skin. You were the most precious thing in the world to him, and he couldn't believe that you were here, willing, trusting him.

His lips brushed against the hollow of your throat, feather-light. He felt your heart skip, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Easy, darling," he whispered, and then his fangs sank into your flesh.

The pain was sharp, a stinging ache that had you sucking in a breath, but then the pleasure hit, a heady rush of warmth that left you dizzy. It was unlike anything you had felt before, a strange, euphoric sort of high. You could feel his lips move against your skin as he drank, his hips resuming their steady pace, his hands holding you firmly beneath him.

His tongue flicked out, swiping over the puncture marks, soothing them. Your blood was hot and sweet, and the sound of his name falling from your lips in a moan had him nearly feral with desire.

You were overwhelmed, every sensation heightened by his bite, the feeling of his lips on your skin, his cock deep within you, his hands gripping your hips. He was everywhere, his touch lighting up every nerve, his voice rough and breathless in your ear, calling you his darling, his love. The connection had always been there, lingering in the background, and now it was like a floodgate had been opened. You could feel his adoration, his lust, his possessive desire to claim every part of you, and the intensity of it was almost too much to bear.

You were close, so close, and he could feel it. He could feel everything. He could feel the way your muscles tightened around him, the way your heartbeat quickened, the way your skin flushed beneath his touch.

He would easily burn the world down just to stay in this moment. To make it stretch out forever, the two of you wrapped up in each other, bodies and souls entwined.

You clung to him, lost in a haze of bliss, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave, crashing down, sweeping you away. He followed soon after, groaning as he came undone, his movements growing erratic.

He rode out his climax, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself deep inside of you. Then he collapsed against your chest, his breathing ragged, his body slick with sweat.

You could feel his heart pounding against yours, and the sensation made a giddy laugh bubble up inside you. He lifted his head, his expression equal parts shocked and amused.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your laughter, the two of you tangled together, a mess of limbs and sheets. Then he sat up, pulling you into his lap, your bodies still connected, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

"I fear I'm going to keep you in my bed for the rest of eternity," he mused, stroking a hand through your hair.

You giggled, snuggling closer to him, your arms winding around his neck.

"It's a good thing I like you then." You teased.

Kol grinned, kissing the tip of your nose. "Just like? You wound me."

"Hmm," you hummed, pretending to think. "I suppose I like you a lot."

"Well, I suppose I like you a lot as well," he quipped.

"Good," you sighed, resting your head against his shoulder. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

"Not ever," he whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss.

You were still catching your breath, tangled in Kol’s arms, when a sharp knock on the attic door made you both freeze.

"Kol, there's news."

Elijah’s voice.

Your stomach dropped as your eyes snapped to Kol’s. He looked equally unimpressed, his smug post-coital bliss evaporating into exasperation.

"Go away, Elijah," Kol called, his chin resting lazily atop your head. "This is hardly the time."

There was a pause.

Then another knock, firmer this time.

"It’s important, Kol."

Kol groaned, flopping back against the pillows dramatically and pulling you down with him. "Honestly, you’d think he’d know better than to interrupt such a special moment."

You smacked his chest, still mortified by the thought of Elijah standing on the other side of the door. "Kol, just tell him to leave before-"

Before you could finish, the door creaked open.

Elijah stepped inside, his face composed… until he saw Kol in bed, bare-chested, disheveled… and then you.

Wrapped in the sheets.

Still very much in Kol’s lap.

A rare, almost human moment of horror flickered across Elijah’s usually unreadable face. His shoulders went stiff. His eyes widened ever so slightly.

And then, very slowly, he turned his back to you both, adjusting his cuffs as if that could somehow fix this situation. "I… was not aware you had company."

You wanted to sink into the mattress and disappear. Kol, however, was completely unbothered. If anything, he was amused beyond words.

"Well, perhaps you should learn to take ‘go away’ seriously," he said cheerfully, pulling the sheets up around your shoulders in a poor excuse for modesty.

You buried your face against Kol’s chest, horrified.

Elijah cleared his throat, clearly regretting every decision that had led him to this moment. "I’ll be brief."

"Please do," Kol drawled, stroking your back. You buried yourself further against him, wishing you could vanish.

Elijah took a measured breath, ignoring Kol completely. "We caught the killer."

Your head snapped up. "What?"

Elijah nodded, still very pointedly looking at the ceiling rather than at either of you. "Turns out, it wasn’t a dragon. There was no mythical beast involved at all."

Silence.

Your stomach twisted. "What?" You repeated.

"The culprit was a rogue witch," Elijah continued, clearly eager to finish this conversation and erase it from his memory. "He was targeting young people he believed had latent magical abilities, using ritual sacrifice to steal their power."

You stared at him, blinking.

Kol tilted his head. "So… no dragons stealing virgins, then?"

"No, Kol." Elijah replied flatly.

Kol nodded slowly, taking this information in. "Ah."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Kol laughed.

Not just a chuckle. Full-bodied, amused beyond reason, utterly entertained.

You, however, were not laughing. And neither was Elijah, who shot a quick glance at his brother, confusion written all over his face, before turning away again.

"I will leave you both to… whatever this is." Elijah said, gesturing vaguely at the two of you. "Just... please make use of the lock."

He was gone in a flash, and you buried your face against Kol again, mortified.

"This is not funny, Kol!" You cried.

Kol, of course, was still laughing, you tried to squirm out of his arms, but he held you tight, pulling you back against his chest.

"I can't believe you're laughing right now!" You huffed, smacking his arm.

He snorted, his body shaking with laughter. "I'm sorry, love, I just..." He shook his head, still chuckling. "This whole situation is hilarious."

"To you," you grumbled, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"Doesn’t change the fact that you were absolutely desperate for me." He said, and you glared at him.

"Shut up." You muttered, pulling the sheet around you.

Kol's lips curled into a smirk, and he pulled you closer.

"Don't pout, love," he purred, brushing his nose against yours. "Don’t be shy about it now. The damage is done. Your virtue has been thoroughly ruined."

You groaned, covering your face. "I hate you."

Kol grinned, crawling over you again, his weight warm and familiar as he kissed your jaw. "No, you don’t."

You sighed, relaxing just slightly as his lips trailed along your collarbone.

After a moment, Kol shifted, resting his forehead against yours, his voice quieter now. "Do you regret it?"

You hesitated.

Because, no. You didn’t. Not even a little. The two of you felt so connected, like a missing piece had finally slotted into place.

Your eyes met his, and you shook your head.

"No. Never."

A smile tugged at his lips, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. "Good."

"But, um," you bit your lip, glancing towards the door. "I'm definitely never looking Elijah in the eye again."

Kol snorted, and the two of you dissolved into a fit of giggles, tangled in the sheets, the stress and fear of the last few days finally fading away.

Because you were safe, and Kol was safe, and that was all that mattered.

Everything else would just have to wait.

#kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson smut #kol mikaelson fanfiction #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvdu #vampire diaries #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine #kol mikealson x reader #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson x you

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ybklix · 1 year ago

Text

late night confessions

★ pairing: han jisung x fem!reader

✦summary: It's not a secret that you like your older brother's best friend, but at least you think neither your brother nor his friend knows it, yet after you show up unexpectedly on one of their boys' nights out, Jisung, his best friend, can't control himself and ends up revealing a truth you never thought you'd hear.

♡ genre: smut, friends to lovers kinda, han is your older brother's bff

♡ warnings: MDNI, fingering, clitplay, slight grinding, unprotected sex.

word count: 4.4k

╰ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ masterlist - taglist forms

୧ ‧₊˚request by anon₊ ˚⊹♡

a/n: wait, i had this bro's bff idea with jeongin but made it for jisung heh

divider by fairytopia

It was unbelievable. You gasped in annoyance, unable to believe that this was how your night was ending, you just had a run of bad luck and, to top it all off, after your terrible day at work, your car stopped working, it wouldn't start and you didn't understand why, you were a girl, not a car expert. Plus you had left almost at the end, leaving you all alone in the parking lot, without asking for help.

You had no choice but to call your brother, you were a bit embarrassed to ask strangers for help; but your calls were in vain, Seungmin didn't pick up your call. You were stressed and frustrated, you were supposed to go to sleep at a friend's house and leave Seungmin alone, as you had previously agreed, since you had started living with him a year ago, settling in the city, but sometimes he would require privacy and you understood that perfectly… however tonight was one of those nights when you didn't feel friendly, much less like seeing your friend, you just wanted to go to your bed and cry for no apparent reason and at the same time because of everything.

You tried to find some help on the internet, searching and asking for contacts, but it was Saturday night and no one was available. You looked at your car a bit upset, upset that life was suddenly like this and that the only man you had in your life wasn't answering your call. You had no father to call in a hurry, let alone a boyfriend, you felt alone.

You swallowed your pride and sadness, looking for help, but it really seemed like you had nothing going for you, there was no one to help you, there were shops around, being manned by women with little knowledge of cars, you didn't know whether to feel grateful that suddenly there was no man around, or completely useless and stranded there. You gave up, got a ride home, without even letting Seungmin know you were on your way, he wasn't answering anyway and you weren't going to wait, you'd take care of your car tomorrow, you hoped.

When you arrived, everyone was in for a surprise; you found Seungmin drinking with his best friend, Han Jisung, on the living room floor, around them were bottles and on the small table a box of fried chicken, you were really hungry you would go without shame to have a piece, although Jisung's presence alone intimidated you, when you saw him… your world stopped for a second, you didn't expect to see him, you hadn't seen him for a long time, and for him, the feeling was very mutual, he was drunk, but he could distinguish perfectly that it was you, the girl who had driven him secretly crazy, because you were Seungmin's younger sister. And you stood still, before you could say anything or move forward, Seungmin got up from the floor, with an almost offended expression on his face.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing here?” your brother asked, drawing Jisung's attention.

You grimaced, you knew it wasn't the best time, your brother was kind of drunk with his best friend and you came in unexpectedly, but you were kind of sensitive that it really struck you that that was the first thing he said to you.

“Seungmo, calm down, it's your sister… hey Y/n, do you want fried chicken?” spoke Han, nervous and trying to get closer to you.

“Don't offer her fried chicken…” replied Seungmin, but you didn't really care and approached Jisung to eat some.

Han awkwardly and tenderly patted your head, you looked up at your brother's annoyed expression and put the food down, feeling embarrassed, feeling that Han saw you as a little girl after all this time. You practically knew each other all your lives, Han was the only son of your father's close friend; he was the same age as Seungmin so it made the two of them inseparable, but he couldn't help but feel something for you as you grew up together, he knew every part of you, seeing you with different eyes and, it wasn't until a couple of years ago that your father passed away, so Seungmin really worried, he let you live with him; putting Han at a crossroads, seeing you every time he had to see his best friend.

Han looked at you fondly, wanting to know what you were doing there too, how you got there, why you were there.

“My car broke down, I think,” you replied.

“You think?” your brother replied, raising an eyebrow, slowly returning to being the responsible Seungmin.

“Well, it just wouldn't start no matter how hard I tried and…”

“Where did you leave it?”

“In the car parking lot at work…”

“So did you get it fixed or…? What are you doing here?”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

“No… I came here by taxi and…”

“You really didn't ask for help, did you?” claimed Seungmin, knowing that you are shy.

“No it wasn't like... yes I did…”

Seungmin was a little drunk as to process so he simply said:

“I'll go fix it.”

You got up right away, confused.

“No, I'll have it fixed tomorrow, really.”

“I'll go check it out, Han, come with me.”

Han didn't think about it, he really didn't know exactly what was going on, but he tried to stand up, staggering in the process, so you quickly held him tightly so he wouldn't fall, he smiled apologetically and saw you with a deep look as he felt the strong grip of your hand on his arm.

“Shit, Han is drunk, it won't do me any good, I'll go alone.”

Seungmin hurried to the door to grab his car keys to which you also went behind him, confused and to make sure your brother is alright and not merely acting on impulse and in a hopelessly drunk state.

“Seungmin…” you tried to meet his gaze.

“What?”

You looked at him, he looked serious, he was so hard to read, but he towards you was not, “I'm fine” he repeated, “Besides I want some ramen and there's no more here, I'll be back soon, I'll drive you back to your car in the morning so you can have it. Take care of Han in the meanwhile.”

You were about to say something, to stop him since the situation was puzzling you so much… but you noticed a bit of concern in his voice, as if he was really worrying about you and, before you could do anything else, say anything else to him, you heard Han behind you stumble.

“Oops, sorry” he spoke, smiling and unable to keep still.

You sighed and walked back over to him, a bit strange as to what you should do; Han held onto you, dropping his body a bit.

“Mmm, do you think you can give me something comfortable to sleep in? I'll make myself comfortable on the couch” Han tried to say, recognizing that he couldn't be at ease knowing that you were alone with him, his senses slowly returning, it was better that he put himself to sleep before he did something crazy, or so he thought.

You swallowed your saliva nervously, his closeness and his deep voice made you nervous, he really looked handsome today, with his hair slightly fluffed and long, his pretty face with a stubble still maintaining the appearance of his clean and smooth look and his attire of black, perfectly highlighting his nice tanned skin, you felt bad… he was your brother's best friend you had known all your life, but sometimes you wanted him so badly.

“Sure” you replied, taking him a few steps to the couch and leaving him there.

Without thinking you walked to Seungmin's room but stopped at the door, wondering what the fuck you were going to do looking for clothes for Han, who watched you walk away with a smile on his face, thinking mischievously that you really had grown up. You turned around, to tell him that he could go by himself to get the clothes and you realized that Han had already stood up and was walking on his own without help and, without staggering so much, he couldn't help himself and shamelessly walked into your room, sitting on your bed and admiring every part of the space, you rushed in behind him, your shame reflecting on your face, not knowing how to tell him that he should get out of there right now, but you saw him, so happy sitting on your bed, his tender smile lifting his cheeks.

“Your room smells good,” he said.

Han had dreamed of that for a long time, being in every aspect of your life, getting to know you and, he took advantage of the fact that you considered him a drunk acting senseless, to get close to you, he thought it was kind of pathetic, but sober he would never have dared to even talk to you, you really put him in a very bad state and you didn't even know it, you had him in the palm of your hand, at your command, when he didn't see you for a long time he missed you and when he saw you often he felt fulfilled.

“Han… I think you should… you can find something comfortable in Seungmin's room and go to sleep” you answered quickly and nervously, seeing him in your room made your hair stand on end.

“Come here” he replied softly but you remained motionless at your door, “Help me stand up a bit” he lied.

You fell for it, and approached him; Han gasped, unable to bear the thought of having you all to himself and breathed in your scent once you were close to him. He watched you, up and down as you reached out your hand for him to take and lean on, but he, feeling his touch against your sweet, warm skin, took hold of your wrist and pulled, shifting your body and making you fall a little awkwardly into his lap. You were surprised and your mind reacted immediately, telling you that the most appropriate thing to do would be to get up instantly, but your body didn't react, Han placed his face by your neck, feeling his warm breath moving slightly some of your hair, he was breathing heavily, with his hands resting on your thighs, you shouldn't, just because you felt a slight pang of guilt inside you, because he was a couple of years older and he was your brother's best friend… but you couldn't understand that at the same time being in his lap felt so good.

“Let's stay like this for a while,” Han whispered in your ear, making you shiver.

You weren't uncomfortable, all you could think about was how good it felt to have him close like you'd never had him before, the last time you'd felt him with his body so close was maybe the brief little hug on your birthday. Yet everything inside you screamed that this wasn't right, that he was drunk, he didn't know what he was doing and that somehow you'd be betraying Seungmin since Han is the one man he trusts his sister with more than anything else in the world…. but now, Han was betraying his best friend by not keeping his conscience clear and thinking of all the dirty scenarios with you and you were starting to notice it… a strange and increasingly prominent hard feeling crashing against your ass, this time you got nervous, thinking the obvious, Han was starting to get aroused.

Han took a deep breath of the smell of your hair; you wouldn't believe the situation to move on so you whispered almost in a whimper, “Han, please…” you didn't know why you were pleading.

He let out a chuckle, "Please what?" he was starting to get cocky, all his power was travelling to his cock and your frail body trembled slightly at the feel of his cock against your ass. Your body reacted normally, an inevitable tension was beginning to build and you were getting wetter and wetter. Han stroked your thighs, desperate to feel only the denim of your jeans, but glad to have you on top of him, fighting your instincts.

Once again, he got close to your ear, finally telling you what he always wanted after long, agonizing years of keeping his crush a secret, after numerous dates with other girls that made him think none of them were you, after eating and tasting the wrong ones, just to fill the emptiness of not having you, until finally having you.

“Y/n, I like you so much, I really do” your heart raced and your whole system stopped working for a second, “I've liked you for a long time and I was stuck not being able to tell you…”

And there it was, everything you had dreamed of hearing for years, your dream come true, the answer to all your questions. You had the courage to turn to look at him, leaving him breathless in mid-sentence, unable to continue speaking and lost on your lips. You didn't really want to take it as an unconscious act on the part of his drunkenness, you really wanted to believe in him and something in his big, bright eyes that night detonated sincerity, so much so that he could speak, as normally as ever, his voice thick and soft at the same time:

“Can I kiss you?”

That was what he said and that was enough to make you begin to doubt reality… did Han Jisung really want to kiss you? After fantasizing about the perfect moment for both of you, this was how it was going to happen… feeling his erection against your ass. Honestly, you weren't complaining, you were both adults capable of making your own decisions, tonight would be for you and, if you had to enjoy Han you would, you would so for all the nights you spent hours thinking about him and he would, for the one girl who brought out a special side of him, sex with feelings, sex with meaning more than carnal desire.

You turned your body, making him moan softly at the friction against his erection, you admired his face for a few seconds and couldn't resist, bringing your lips to his, joining them in a passionate kiss, bringing together the two incredible desires you both had for each other for a long time. Both felt it unreal, caressing each other's lips, colliding and touching each other at a fiery, slow pace.

As you parted you looked at each other, both of you with incredulous looks, but with high expectations that something else might happen there right now. You kissed again, this time more desperate, his hands gripped your waist tightly and you tasted his tongue this time, feeling his cock throbbing under you, you were so excited, open to anything… you had always dreamed that everything would be romantic, your first date, your first kiss, but if that was how the situation was going to turn out, it really didn't matter much to you, it was with Han, after all, you were his dream girl and vice versa.

You separated again just to catch your breath, but you really wanted to live glued to each other, you bit your lip and noticed how he couldn't speak, he had that expression on him that you knew so well… he was stunned, so, wanting to take the first step, since if the two of you stayed shy it wasn't going to get you anywhere, you said:

“We should…” you couldn't find the right way to tell him that you wanted him to fuck you with all his might.

“Don't think I just want to have sex with you, I want to take you on nice dates and hold your hand and…” he rushed in nervously, interrupting you.

You smiled tenderly, he was back to his old Han self; you gave him a quick kiss, confessing on his lips, your nose brushing his, “I like you too, Jisung.” And you stood up abruptly, again making a moan escape his lips as he no longer felt your body against his cock.

“So you wanna have sex?” you added amused, watching him as you raised your eyebrows.

He didn't answer, he thought too much about it when you were already undressing quickly, you needed him desperately. You left Han dumbfounded and with his cock throbbing more and more. Finally, you were only in your underwear, with your dark gaze, biting your lip and with an intense inner fire, you stripped off the only light garments covering your body, leaving you completely naked.

“Y/n…” whispered Han breathlessly, shyly tracing your body.

It was his darkest fantasy, to fuck you and touch you; most of his thoughts were tender and romantic, but when he felt lonely and needy he fantasized about your body, on you moaning his name.

“Come on, Han, do the same for me.”

You asked so cheerfully, now it was he who thought he had returned the usual you, energetic and vivacious, always telling him anything; Han remembered his childhood, always calling his name 'Han this, Han that…', you really used to be close, but his crush on you distanced you without realizing it, until this very moment, you were sharing a moment again, one that transcended all previous ones, it was about to be such a dirty act, but so intimate.

He watched you, with his kind of innocent countenance, opening his eyes and blinking a few times; still, the first thing he did out of instinct was to direct his hand to his pants and, with some embarrassment, pulled them down with his underwear, exposing his needy, slightly curved cock. You looked at him with desire, you never thought that day would come and there you both were; Han finishing undressing, taking off his shirt and tossing it to the edge of your bed.

Your pussy and heart reacting the same way for a man, for Han Jisung, throbbing hard, your heart pumping blood with intensity, your pussy getting wetter and wetter. You smiled in amusement and bent down a little to stretch his jeans completely, leaving the garments on the floor.

Han looked at you with desire, however this time he felt a bit intimidated and needy… he really didn't know what to do or how to treat you, how was the way you enjoyed being touched, he wanted to be perfect for you and for you to enjoy every second, but he was just overthinking more and more.

“Come on, Han, touch me” you asked sincerely, moving closer to him, putting your whole body at his disposal.

He in that position was almost perfectly in front of the height of your breasts, so he raised his gaze and his hands caressed you, running from your ass, your hip, all the way up to your breasts, making you moan at the sensation of his skin finally touching you, making his cock throb with more intensity, covering its tip with precum.

Han played with your breasts some more, squeezing them and caressing your nipples, bringing shocks of excitement and pleasure to your body that you had never felt before. Slowly and smoothly he positioned himself leaning back against the back of your bed, you looked at him smiling and climbed onto your bed, approaching him on your knees, you were about to stand in front of him, but Han in a thick voice said to you:

“Turn around, dear, please.”

You were surprised at the way he said it and that he suddenly told you a soft command which you obeyed. Han had fantasized about fucking you while your back was to him, one of his dark thoughts when loneliness accompanied him, taking you by your hips as you slid your body onto his cock, he was so hard that the slightest touch from you could make him cum and he moaned, as he felt your back press his cock against his lower abdomen.

“Like this?” you asked, unsure of Han's plans, but highly aroused.

He wanted to check how aroused you were for him, he wanted to caress such a sensitive and private part of you before inserting his member into you. He wanted to fulfill all his perversions, but he wanted to be sweet and initiate lovingly with you, so he would wait, he would wait for you so you could know his deepest desires. Right now, he just wanted his fingers between your wet core.

“Spread your legs, just like this…” he ordered you gently and you did, letting out a soft moan as you felt the wetness of your folds part, Han settled on the side of your neck, “Look at you so wet.”

And the next thing you felt was one of his hands massaging your breasts and the other caressing your clit, you shivered at the sensation, with his heavy, warm breathing next to you; he continued to rub so finely at your vulva that again you shuddered, Han reached your entrance, so dripping begging for action and gave you its due attention, as he ran his two of his fingers, biting his lip and checking how wet you were for him, to finally slowly slide two fingers into your pussy. You moaned in surprise, Han was so focused on satisfying you that his thumb didn't stop attending to your sensitive clit even for a second, his cock was pulsing more every time, he was about to cum just by feeling your walls clinging to his fingers; you stirred your body slightly, enjoying the feeling of your insides being taken up, with his fingers reaching up to a perfect length teasing you to the limit.

“Do you like it?”

Han couldn't help but smirk smugly, your expression was one of pure pleasure, and you could only reply to him in an agitated “Yes,” with a breathless sigh. He moved his fingers slowly in you, enjoying the slick smoothness of your walls soaking his digits as you slowly swooned at his touch, his hard cock against your back, his thumb stroking your clit; you struggled to hold back your moans, but you were enjoying it too much. You could see your naked body, his hand busy on your breasts and the other with his hand buried in your pussy, giving you the most incredible pleasure, he knew how to do it so well that was enough for you to feel your orgasm close, you let yourself lean your body completely back against Han's naked chest, about to cum, sighing loudly and throwing your head back on his shoulder, your back arched a little and he gasped softly as he felt your walls squeeze his fingers tighter, releasing you into them.

Han laughed gently, smug and satisfied that you had cum just by him fucking you with his fingers; but you weren't the least bit tired, you were just getting started, poor Han had held back his orgasm, wanting to unload his entire load inside little pussy, making you his.

“C'mon, baby, let me fuck you.”

His murmur in your ear warmed your body and insides more, you were catching your breath a little but there was nothing to catch, at least you thought so, your friend's cock was so ready to be used that he didn't want to waste another second. You lifted your body a little, turned to see him and noticed how he was stroking his cock, with such a panting expression; the glans of his cock was so pink, slightly covered in white, almost more swollen than the first time you saw it. You without thinking raised your ass, not even bothering about a condom, just giving him free access to your pussy, slightly wiggling your ass as if in heat, waiting for Han to enter your dripping and previously attended pussy, but you sighed as you felt his length sliding down your wet labia, leaving you with his precum on them.

“Agh, fuck, all your pussy feels so good, baby, mmm.”

You looked up at him again, he was so focused, enjoying his cock slip through your vulva, until you finally felt it. His tip stretching your entrance, thrusting in so carefully it drove you crazy.

“Fuck, Han” you babbled, he was so swollen, stretching your walls.

He held you by your hips, pushing you gently until you were fully seated on his cock, your pussy feeling the skin of his balls; you both gasped at the same time, your insides squeezing him exquisitely and his cock filling your entire core to perfection.

“You can move, baby, or do you want me to do it for you?” he said again, excitedly.

You shook senselessly, slowly you were ceasing to think clearly. Your hands dug into his thighs, you stirred on his cock, with all his manhood buried in you and gave your first thrust upward, beginning to move your lower back, enjoying his cock inside you at your pace, as he held you firmly by your hips, supporting your movements and panting steadily. He massaged your ass and returned his hands to your hips, enjoying the close-up view of your entrance using up his cock, so slippery and making it wetter on the spot. You accelerated your movements, starting to jump without stopping, bumping your bodies, making you ecstatic but leaving you tired; Han was about to cum, so well that the moment he felt your body weaken, he did not hesitate to start pounding you deep and hard, causing a muffled moan in you, now resting your hands on the bed, making him stand up a little on his knees, ramming you with intensity until bringing him to his long awaited and great orgasm, squeezing all his juice inside you. You felt his warm cum, your body couldn't take that much either, Han thrust deep into you, pounding you until he even rocked your torso, arching your back, with your nails buried in your sheets, you climaxed for a second time, your insides coating his cock; both of you tired but unbelievably satisfied with each other.

You were returning to your normal state, at least you were more aware of your surroundings and, still with his cock inside you; the noise of the city altered your senses. You didn't live alone and Seungmin might arrive unexpectedly, plus your door was slightly open.

“Han… you have to go” you told him softly, worried that your brother might show up at any moment.

Han whined, being so comfortable with you, your pussy warming his cock. But he knew perfectly well he had to do it. The next morning you really thought he wouldn't remember anything, until that moment of the day, when you sorrowfully went to make yourself breakfast and when Seungmin wasn't around, he approached you and in a slightly seductive whisper said, “And what day does our first date sound good to you?”

-----------------------------

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89

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kuronarnze · 5 months ago

Note

Hey, i don't know if you take request but if you do....can you please write a fluff oneshot with Kaiser where Reader learns German behind his back to surprise him and then Confess to him in German?

By the way i love your writing! I was so happy to find your Account and loved reading your Kaiser and Kurona Oneshots!♡

a/n: hihi anon! Yess i do take requests, so feel free to request (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)! Omg yes i love your idea so im here for it, hehe. Aww thank you smm! You seem so sweet, i absolutely love writing kaiser and kurona oneshots, two of my favs :)), anyways thank you for requesting, and enjoy the oneshot (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+.

Michael Kaiser x Reader !

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Say It Again"

You had been planning this for months—spending late nights practicing pronunciation, watching videos, and even getting Ness to help (under strict orders to keep it a secret from Kaiser). It was all for this moment.

Kaiser was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone when you called his name. "Hey, Michael?"

He glanced up, raising a brow. "Hmm?"

You swallowed your nerves, then smiled. "Ich muss dir etwas sagen." (I have to tell you something.)

For a second, Kaiser froze. His phone slipped from his fingers and landed on his lap as he blinked at you in pure shock. "What...?"

Taking a deep breath, you continued, your heart hammering. "Ich habe Deutsch gelernt, um dich zu überraschen." (I learned German to surprise you.)

Kaiser stared at you like you had just grown wings. "You—you learned German?" His voice was quieter now, filled with something unreadable.

You nodded, nervous but determined. "Ja. Und…" (Yes. And...) You took a deep breath before finally saying, "Ich liebe dich, Mihya."

Silence.

Then—Kaiser let out a breathy chuckle, running a hand through his blonde hair as a slow, genuine smile spread across his lips. "You just—" He shook his head, almost disbelieving. "You really just did that."

You bit your lip. "Did I pronounce it okay?"

Instead of answering, Kaiser stood up, closing the distance between you in one step. His hands cupped your face gently, his blue eyes shining with something soft—something vulnerable.

"You’re unbelievable," he murmured. Then, before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you.

The warmth of his lips, the way he held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world—it made every hour of studying worth it.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, grinning. "You’re sneaky, you know that?"

You laughed. "Surprised?"

"Beyond." He brushed his thumb over your cheek, his voice softer now. "Say it again."

"Say what?" you teased, already knowing what he meant.

Kaiser chuckled, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, "You know what."

Smiling, you said it again—this time with all the love you felt in your heart.

"Ich liebe dich, Mihya."

And when he kissed you again, you knew he felt the same.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Thank you for reading ! Oh and also feel free to request a oneshot or whatever! (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

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mocchii-writes · 6 months ago

Note

hii!! i love your work! i would like to request head-canons with a reader who is an ex cop (could be from the same reason as jun ho, as they failed to investigate the mysterious island) but this time, they’re actually able to infiltrate into the games. you can do separate characters for gi hun, in ho, dae ho, thanos, and nam gyu?!

Squid Game Boys if You Were Undercover in the Games

Paring: Seong Gi-hun, Hwang In-ho, Kang Dae-ho, Choi Su-bong (Thanos), Nam-gyu x fem!Reader (Separate)

Warnings: Drugs

A/n: I hope I understood this correctly, Anon, it's a very cool one! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

~🍡🍡

Hwang In-ho:

This would be very interesting indeed

Since he's also an undercover spy-esc. type, he might not even notice if you act suspicious in that type because he's covering up himself

but he also seems smart enough to figure it out

he would admire your bravery, if so, and originally planned to shut you down once he thought you'd had enough fun

but there was something about the way you looked at him sometimes that made him pause

it took him a while to realise he actually liked you, and the thought didn't exactly comfort him

you guys would play a game of tag in the dark, jumping around the fact that you're on opposing sides of a growing war

and you'd both pretend you knew nothing so you could be friendly guilt-free

he wouldn't hesitate at the chance to save your life, unlike he would for many other "friends"

he's very protective and defensive of you anytime anyplace

if anyone even thought of hurting you, pray for them fr

he's almost ashamed to admit to himself that he cares about you, but the thought hardly crosses his mind when met with false hatred for you instead.

(or what he calls hatred)

Seong Gi-hun (s2):

You knew he could use all the help he could get, and he seemed almost too kind to be in this place

and you knew you could use all the help you could get as well

so you didn't have to think long on it to decide to tell him what you knew

he trusts you, for sure

he's also protective of you, trying his best to ensure your safety even though that's a hard ask

and you protect him too, to the best of your abilities

you both have a common goal, too, and that helps with the bonding

speaking of

you two would bond pretty well imo, sharing your stories and fears with each other at night

he's not very confident in terms of romance, and he'd probably miss most of your hints because he's so used to people never glancing his way

but eventually he would understand

if not your feelings, then his own

and he would probably confess to you by like either exploding a bunch of words out of his mouth that are hardly understandable, or very quietly and clearly, like he's sharing a secret with you

Kang Dae-ho:

If you told him he would be so impressed, let's be honest here

literally star-struck, because an undercover ex-cop is the sickest thing ever??

and not to mention he definitely already admires you

he wants to know everything about your investigation and your backstory

he feels very safe with you, but still holds himself to the standard of defending you if he needs to

you'll probably have to make the first move unless you can boost his ego a little more because like I said, he thinks you're way too cool for him

you would do your best to help him, and he does the same for you

which really makes you two a crazy power couple because when you guys really link up you're unstoppable

I just know yall would devour in the riot omg

he loves loves loves you, and he loves talking to you about all the police stuff you do and his time in the military

Choi Su-bong (Thanos):

It's an understatement to say you were wary of him, and even more wary of telling him your reasons for being here

but it's not like he would notice anything weird, so you'll be alright

you were trying to keep a low profile, but Thanos didn't intend to just let a pretty girl like you get away

He tried his usual charms, and whether or not they worked is... irrelevant... 🤭

anyways

you joined his group because you thought it gave you safety, but that didn't stop Thanos from trying to win you over

after your suspicions died down, he seemed pretty genuine

so you told him your story, and he listened

he told you he'd try to help you, but neither of you know if he could really help that much

but he definitely respected you more after that

and nobody dares to mess with Thanos's girl, but if they did, you know he'd handle it

he thinks of you as a close friend as well, and he trusts you more after you tell him you're undercover

he would want to tell Nam-gyu, but he wouldn't if you didn't want him to

he would think it's hot lmao

he'd be like, "So you're a super secret spy? cool, cool. Where's your earpiece?"

"bro"

"Hm?"

it overall wouldn't really affect how he treats you, but your relationship would sift, probably for the better

Nam-gyu:

Depending on how you met, he would be really gentle with you imo

he's really nice with thanos (though he claims it's for the drugs)

so I think if he liked you he would really like you

we know he's very touchy and probably protective of you

but when you tell him your real story, he's flabbergasted

I mean sure, it makes sense, but what??

his perfect wife? (he's known you 4 days)

he's very proud of it

will probably yap to everyone about it, sadly

you'll really have to hold him back, if you can

he'd say he wants to hear about it but hed probably lose interest lmao

but he'll ask you late at night, and you two will talk for a while about your lives

he'd say he's ashamed of his life currently, and that you have so much more potential

you'd have to comfort him and tell him it's okay

also, please comfort him when he takes drugs from thanos because they make him pretty anxious sometimes

and he just wants to be with you, so hold him ♡

protects you but also knows you can handle yourself, just give him this

Sorry, I'm posting really slow but all the req will be out once I get on that grind ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

~🍡🍡

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springtyme · 1 year ago

Note

heyy love, could you do an aaron hotchner x fem bau reader where they dated in secretly for a while but then he broke up with her. the reason he broke up with her is because he is her boss and that always was something that made him feel doubtful about their relationship. it’s up to you if you want to end it with an happy ending.

thank youu

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐀𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 ♡

Thank you so much for the request, dear anon! Such a lovely one and I was so happy to write for Hotch! mwah <3

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader || Main masterlist || Spotify

summary: You suspect that you've been in love with Aaron Hotchner since you first laid eyes on him three years ago. Now you're on your way to Idaho to go on your first case together since he broke your heart two weeks ago.

word count: 4.5k

warnings/tags: Angst and fluff. Boss/employee relationship. Hurt/comfort. Heartbreak. Kissing. Sharing a bed. (first time I write for Hotch, so please bear with me) Haven't proof read yet. I don't know if I really like how it ended up tbh, but maybe it's just because I was really tired while writing it..?

You keep your gaze on the pages of the book, despite the words keep blurring together and after having read the same paragraph four times over, without even having registered what you have read. You’ve given up on actually getting any reading done, but you don’t want anyone talking to you right now and you still have almost four hours left before you land in Idaho. So you keep eyes glued to the book, hoping that the act of pretending to read will deter any unwanted conversation.

You can feel his eyes on you, not all the time, but you feel how his gaze occasionally lingers on you. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you sense his presence nonetheless.

Taking in a deep breath you look up from the book to steal a glance in his direction, catching his eye for a brief moment before he looks away. There’s a flicker of something in his expression, a hint of longing that mirrors your own. But just as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone, replaced by the stoic mask he wears so well as he continues his conversation with Derek.

The last two weeks have been painful, filled with a whirlwind of emotions and unanswered questions since Aaron had ended your relationship, before it even had a chance to really begin. It’s been three years since you joined the BAU and from the very beginning you had felt drawn to Aaron Hotchner in a way that defied logic and reason, like there was a connection between you that transcended the professional boundaries of boss and subordinate.

A silly crush is what it had started as, but the more you got to know him, the more you realized that what you felt was far more than just that. It was a deep, undeniable attraction, a connection that went beyond the surface level. And as time passed, that initial spark grew into something more profound, something that stirred your soul and filled your heart with warmth.

Sometimes you had let yourself hope that he felt the same way, that the moments of shared glances and unspoken words between you held a deeper meaning, but you had never dared act on it, or let yourself get your hopes up too high. The reality of Aaron’s position as your boss and the boundaries it imposed had always stood as a barrier. The unspoken rules of professionalism, the fear of risking his or your career and the harmony of the team had kept your feelings hidden, buried beneath layers of duty and obligation.

It was three months ago that things had changed between you. It had been a moment of vulnerability, a shared confession during a late-night conversation with the raw emotions of the aftermath of an exceptionally harrowing case that had laid bare the depths of your emotions, and the longing that had simmered beneath the surface for so long had reached a point of no return.

He had kissed you that night and it was sweet and tender, yet charged with unspoken desire and desperation. It was a moment of surrender, a brief glimpse into a world where the barriers between you could be broken down and the feelings you had both been suppressing could be allowed to flourish.

The next couple months had been a whirlwind of stolen moments and whispered confessions, each one deepening the bond between you in ways that words could never fully capture. There were secret meetings in secluded corners of the BAU office, stolen kisses in the quiet of the night, and shared glances that spoke volumes without a single word being uttered.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, a shadow began to loom over your newfound connection. Aaron had started to act distant and reserved, his once warm and affectionate demeanor now replaced by a noticeable aloofness. And two weeks ago on a night where the both of you had stayed late to finish some reports he had told you that it all had been a mistake, and that the two of you should maintain a strictly professional relationship moving forward.

His words had cut through the air with a sharp finality and landed like a heavy blow, shattering the fragile hope that had still lingered within you. Aaron’s eyes had been averted, unable to meet your gaze as he spoke the words that shattered your heart.

You steal another glance at Aaron, watching as he maintains his composure in conversation with Derek, his mask of professionalism firmly in place.

You turn back to your book, the words still a jumbled mess on the page. You can’t pretend to read anymore, not when your heart is heavy with memories and unspoken words. With a sigh, you close the book, making Emily, who is seated across the aisle, glance up from the case file she is reading with a questioning look.

You offer her a faint smile, attempting to convey a sense of normalcy despite the turmoil swirling within you.

“You okay?” she asks as she sets aside the case file. You appreciate her gesture, knowing that Emily’s intuition often went beyond words.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, the weight of unspoken emotions pressing down on you. With a small nod, you offer Emily a reassuring smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a lot on my mind,” you reply softly, the words carrying a weight that belie their simplicity.

Emily nods in understanding, her gaze holding a sense of sympathy. “He’s an idiot, by the way,” she says with a wry smile, and you feel how your heart stops for a second, panicking at the thought of Emily uncovering the truth of what has unfolded between you and Aaron.

“What do you mean?” you stammer, the words tumbling out before you can stop them, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for Emily’s response.

Emily just smiles at you as she picks up her file again. “We’re profilers, it’s not hard to read between the lines,” Emily says with a knowing glint in her eyes, her smile reassuring and understanding. “And you’re not as hard to read as you think, it’s clear that you have been dating someone, you have been looking like a smitten kitten for months, it’s been really cute to see, by the way, but something has changed recently. You’ve been distant, and often lost in thought sulking,” Emily continues, her tone gentle yet perceptive.

It’s not like it really surprises you, given how perceptive Emily is, and how deeply you’ve been feeling the shifts in your relationship with Aaron, but you had still hoped that you could have hidden your feelings from colleagues.

“So, yeah, whoever he is that has you feeling like this is an idiot, you’re clearly a catch,” Emily says with a reassuring smile, her words carrying a sense of warmth and understanding.

You feel relief wash over you, though Emily has sensed that you’ve been heartbroken, she hasn’t figured out that it is your boss that has been the course of it.

“Thanks, Em,” you say, offering the dark haired woman a tired but grateful smile.

Emily returns your smile. “If you ever need to talk or just... not talk, I’m here,” she offers, her voice warm and reassuring.

“I appreciate that,” you say, and you do really mean it, but you know that you’re not ready to talk about any of this yet. “But I think I’ll try to take a nap first, hopefully clear my head a bit before we land.”

“Mm, sounds like a plan,”Emily responds with a soft chuckle.

Grabbing the blanket from the empty seat next to you, you lean back in your seat, engulfing your body in the soft, fluffy material.

Before closing your eyes you cast one last glance at Aaron, his profile etched against the soft glow of the cabin lights. The memories of stolen moments with stolen kisses floods your mind, mingling with the ache of his recent rejection. You feel a pang in your heart, a mix of longing and sorrow, as you turn away, curling up in your seat, closing your eyes to the world outside.

You pull the blanket closer around you, the soft warmth of the blanket envelops you, cocooning you in a sense of comfort and security, providing a shield against the turmoil of your heart. The gentle hum of the airplane engines lulls you into a state of relaxation, the rhythmic sound serving as a soothing backdrop to your thoughts and emotions.

As you feel yourself drifting further into the realm of sleep, your senses start to weaken, the sounds of the airplane cabin fading into a distant murmur and you barely register the tears gently sliding down your cheeks before you drift off.

· · · · ·

You’re softly pulled out of sleep by the gentle touch of a hand on your shoulder. As you slowly flutter your eyes open, the soft glow of the cabin lights illuminates the figure beside you.

“Hey, sleepyhead, we’re about to land,” Derek’s voice is warm and filled with a hint of amusement as he gently rouses you from your slumber.

You blink a few times, the remnants of sleep still lingering in your mind as you adjust to the reality of the present moment. With a small smile, you offer Derek a nod of gratitude. Slowly, you sit up in your seat, the blanket slipping off your shoulders as you get ready for touchdown.

As the plane begins its descent, you feel a mix of emotions swirling within you - longing, sorrow, and a hint of resignation. The turbulence of your heart echoes the turbulence in the jet cabin as you start dissenting onto a lower altitude.

As the cabin lights dim in preparation for landing, you look up to find Aaron’s eyes looking in your direction, his gaze briefly meeting yours before he looks away, a shadow covering his features in the soft glow. This would all be so much easier if he would stop looking at you all the time.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions as the plane continues its descent. The mix of longing and sorrow in your heart feels almost suffocating, but you push it aside. You have to focus, have to keep your head clear for the sake of the case, you are a professional and you are not going to let your emotions cloud your mind. As the wheels touch the runway with a slight jolt, signaling your arrival in Idaho, you

And as the team disembarks from the plane and makes their way to the awaiting SUVs, you feel a sense of resolve settling within you, happy to no longer be confined to the limited room of the jet cabin and as you step out into the crisp evening air, you release a sigh of relief.

You watch Aaron walk ahead of you, his posture rigid and his expression unreadable as he walks to one of the cars and you beeline for the other. You keep your gaze fixed outside the window for most of the car ride, watching the landscape pass by in a blur as the car speeds towards its destination, a little sleepy town about an hour away.

As you and the team arrive at the local police station, you can feel the tension between you and Aaron simmering just beneath the surface. The case at hand requires your full attention, and you push aside the turbulent thoughts and emotions that threaten to consume you as you focus on the task at hand.

Throughout the evening and early night, you work alongside the team, profiling the unsub and piecing together clues to hopefully catch the unsub before they strike again. The familiarity of the work, the rhythm of profiling and investigating grounding you in the present moment, making you go into a state of laser focused professionalism. You find a sense of purpose in the work you do, a reminder that you are more than the turmoil of your emotions.

But as the night wears on, the team regroups at the hotel to get a few hours of sleep before continuing the investigation in the morning. You find yourself standing outside the small hotel, looking up at the dark, star lit sky and as you turn to head inside and join the rest of the team, you feel your heart do a little jump in your chest as you see Aaron standing a few feet away, his gaze fixed on you, his usual stoic expression faltered, his brown eyes softening as they meet yours.

For a moment, the world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing in the quiet night, and suddenly, you know that the decision you have made to the hard choice you’ve struggled with for the past two weeks is the right one.

Without saying a word, you walk towards him, a mix of uncertainty and determination coursing through you. As you come to a stop in front of him, he opens his mouth to speak, but you raise a hand to silence him. “Not here,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, and you gently take his hand, leading him towards a secluded corner of the hotel grounds.

As you come to a stop, you turn to face him, the dim light of the night casting shadows across his face. With a heavy sigh, you search his eyes for any sign of the man you once knew, the man who had kissed you with such tenderness and held you with such care, the man you think might’ve even loved you. You had loved him, had long before he kissed you, and you still love him.

“Aaron, I…” you begin, trailing off as you feel all the words in your head leave you as you look into his eyes, remembering that night he had kissed you for the first time. It had been a late night just like this one, it had been the first time you had ever called him by his first name.

“Let’s sit,” he says, his voice gentle yet strained, as he guides you to a nearby bench. You both sit in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between you. Finally, Aaron speaks, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m sorry for hurting you, for leading you on, for... for everything.” His words are filled with regret, and you can see the pain in his eyes, a pain that mirrors your own.

He reaches out his hand, hesitating before resting it on yours. His touch is soft and hesitant but filled with unspoken longing and you feel how your heart skips a beat, how you have missed the feeling of him touching you, even if it’s just the slightest of touches.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says, his voice now barely above a whisper.

‘But it did hurt, it hurt so, so much’, is what you want to say. But as you look into Aaron’s eyes, filled with regret and vulnerability, you find yourself unable to form the words, the intensity in the warm, chocolate brown depths of his gaze rendering you speechless. You see the conflict within him, the turmoil of emotions swirling beneath the surface, and you feel the need to avert your gaze.

You look down at his hand on yours, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine in the balm night air. For a moment, you allow yourself to savor the familiar sensation, the connection that still linger between you despite the circumstances.

Aaron’s hand tightens slightly around yours, a silent plea for understanding. “You deserve so much better than that,” he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand.

You take a deep breath, the words forming in your mind before you speak them out loud. “Maybe I don’t want you to decide for me what I do and don’t deserve,” you say, looking up at him again, your voice steady despite the feelings swirling within you. Aaron’s eyes widen slightly at your words, a mix of emotions crossing his features.

Now it’s his turn to be lost for words, which for some reason seems to give you a bit more courage. You fill your lungs with another deep breath before opening your mouth.

“I’m quitting,” you declare, your voice firm and resolute. You’ve been struggling with making the decision, but as you look at Aaron now, face lit up by the soft moon light you know that it is the only decision for you, you are never gonna be able to let him go if you keep working for the BAU. “I’m turning in my resignation letter when we get back from this case.”

Aaron’s eyes widen in shock, his grip on your hand tightening even more as he processes your words. The weight of your statement hangs heavy in the air between you, the unspoken implications of what this means for both of you settling in. You can see how a myriad of emotions flicker across his face – surprise, concern, and perhaps a glimmer of something else that you can’t quite place.

“You can’t do that,” Aaron’s voice is firm but filled with a mix of concern and resignation, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt

You can’t help but feel a pang of hurt at his words, it’s not like you had expected him to be happy about your decision, but a little, and probably naive, part of you had hoped that he would acknowledge that it would be the solution to how the two of you could be together, hoped that he still wanted that. But you’re not leaving the BAU for the slim chance that you can be with Aaron. You’re quitting because it’s become clear to you that it is the only solution. If the only time you can push aside the pain of being around him is when you’re actively investigating a violent crime case, you have to let him go, and you can only do that by leaving the BAU.

“Yes, I can… I have to, I think,” you say firmly, yet you feel your heart breaking a little by the thought of leaving. “I need to do this for myself. For my own well-being,” you continue, your gaze unwavering as you look into his eyes. “I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when it’s not.”

Aaron remains silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. Finally, he sighs, a hint of resignation in his voice. “I never wanted it to come to this,” he admits, his voice heavy with regret.

“I know,” you reply softly, a tinge of sorrow coloring your words. “But we both knew the risks when we started this.”

“I should never have put you in this position,” Aaron says, his gaze dropping to the ground as he speaks. “I should never have kissed you that night. Ilet my own feelings cloud my judgment, and I hurt you in the process. I’m your boss, and I took advantage, and I-I hurt you, and…”

“No, look at me, please.” You reach out and gently cub his cheek in your hand, making him meet your gaze. “Aaron, it wasn’t just you. I wanted it too, I wanted to be with you,” you confess, your voice breaking slightly with emotion. “I wanted to take the risk because I thought it was worth it. And maybe it was, for a while. But we can’t keep going like this, Aaron. It’s not fair to either of us.”

Aaron’s eyes search yours, a mix of emotions swirling within their depths. “What are you saying?” he asks softly, his voice filled with a hint of desperation.

“I’m saying that I need to let you go,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to let go of this hope that maybe someday we could find a way to be together. I can’t keep holding on to something that’s only causing us both pain.” Tears gather in the corners of your eyes as you speak, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. But despite the pain, you feel a sense of clarity wash over you, a sense of liberation in finally speaking the truth.

Aaron’s eyes soften, his hand coming up to gently grasp yours that’s still cupping his cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice filled with regret and sorrow. You offer him a sad smile, tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you lean forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling away.

“Me too, Aaron,” you say softly, your voice filled with a mix of love and heartbreak. As you stand up from the bench, you turn to walk away, the weight of your decision settling in your heart. But before you can take a step, you feel a hand grasp yours, stopping you in your tracks. You turn back to see Aaron standing before you, his eyes filled with determination and a hint of something you can’t quite place.

“I...I can’t let you leave without saying this,” Aaron begins, his voice wavering slightly. “I’ve been a fool. I’ve let my own fears and insecurities cloud my judgment, and in the process, I’ve hurt you. But I can’t let you go without telling you that I love you. ”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the depth of his confession washing over you like a wave. For a moment, you feel a flicker of hope ignite within you, a spark of possibility that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance for the two of you. “But what does that mean, Aaron?” you ask softly, your voice filled with a mix of hope and trepidation. “What are you saying?”

Aaron takes a deep breath, his gaze unwavering as he speaks. “I’m saying that I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to live with the regret of letting you slip away. I want to fight for a future where you are a part of my life. I know it won’t be easy, I know there are risks and complications, but I can’t let you go without at least trying cause I love you.”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you look into Aaron’s eyes, the sincerity and love shining within them filling your heart with warmth and longing. Taking a step closer to Aaron, you reach out to cup his face in your hands, meeting his gaze with determination.

“I love you, too. I think I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.”

Aaron’s eyes widen in surprise, a mix of emotions flickering across his features. Without another word, he closes the distance between the two of you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss filled with passion and longing. The world falls away as you melt into each other, lost in the moment of shared love and desire as the man you love kisses you under the moonlight.

The kiss deepens, becoming a promise of the future you both want to fight for, a pledge to overcome the obstacles that stand in your way, a balm for the weeks of heartbreak. And as you break apart, breathless and filled with emotion, you feel how your entire body shivers, already missing the feeling of Aaron’s warm lips against yours.

“You’re freezing,” Aaron frowns, quickly shredding himself of his suit jacket and draping it around your shoulders before wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. “Let’s get you inside.”

You nod, your heart swelling with hope and love as he takes your hand in his, leading you back to the hotel. Hotel might be a little generous; it’s more of a bed and breakfast, with so few rooms that the team had to pair up and share, but it was the only accommodation in town and it is not like you and the team aren’t used to having to share rooms from time to time.

It turns out the rest of the team has already paired up and hit the hay, leaving only one room since you’re the last two to arrive. “Looks like you and I’ll have to share a room,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips, an hour ago you would be horrified by it, but now you’re absolutely thrilled about it.

“Yeah, looks like it,” he says with a soft smile on his face as you get your keys before taking your hand in his again and leading you to your shared room.

As you step inside, the warmth of the room envelops you, melding with the warmth of Aaron’s touch as he pulls you into his arms, his lips finding yours once more in a sweet, tender embrace. In the dim light of the hotel room, with the moon casting a soft glow through the curtains, the emotions swirling within you are no longer suffocating, but freeing, as you surrender to the love that has bound the two of you together.

As you finally break apart and look around it turns out that the room is a twin room, with two beds divided by a bedside table. It makes sense that your coworkers didn’t leave you to share a room with a shared bed.

You share a knowing look with him before the both of you start to quickly get ready for bed, it’s late and you’re both exhausted and there is only a few hours till you’ll need to get up again.

You share one last kiss before moving to your respective beds, but as you lay there, the distance between you feels unbearable. The man you have been pining over for three years has just a little while ago told you that he loves you after weeks of heartbreak and he lies so close yet you can’t even touch him? That’s ridiculous!

“I can’t do this,” you whisper, your voice filled with longing as you look at Aaron.

“I know,” he replies, his voice just as filled with yearning as he pulls his covers to the side letting you slip into the bed with him.

You settle into his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, and you feel as if you’re finally coming home. The walls that had been built between you are crumbling down, allowing you to embrace the love that has always been between you.

As you snuggle closer to Aaron, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. The turmoil of the past weeks fades away, replaced by a deep sense of contentment and love.

“I’m never letting you go again,” Aaron whispers, his breath warm against your ear, and you know that he means it. And you know that you never want to let him go either.

With a smile on your face, and your heart full of love and hope, you drift off to sleep in the arms of the man you love, knowing that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you will face them together.

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slattlicker · 24 days ago

Note

schlatt confessing his feelings to you on the japan trip :)!!! You guys end up taking hella romantic photos

╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * turning tides ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮ imagine: you’re wandering through japan with the boy you never stopped loving. he asks to take your picture. ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

﹒₊✦ a/n: to the anon who asked for japan-confession-era schlatt—thank you for the prompt that turned into this quiet little moment. it wrote itself in all the best ways ♡

warning: sentimental tension. quiet places. a boy trying to say everything all at once.

enjoy. you deserve it. (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

✧✧✧

you’ve been walking for a while—hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder—through narrow alleys that smell like incense and grilled mochi. your camera’s already half full from the morning: schlatt pretending to nap on the shinkansen, your reflection in a lacquered shop window, that series he wouldn’t shut up about where you fed the deer in nara and one tried to bite your sleeve (“that one’s a little bastard. perfect for the scrapbook”).

but… something’s off with him today.

not bad-off. just weird-off. he keeps checking his pocket. keeps glancing around like he’s waiting for someone to catch him doing something he shouldn’t.

you tug on his arm a little. “you’re being weird.”

“huh?”

“weird. all twitchy and nervous. do you need to poop or something?”

he scoffs, like that’s the most offensive thing you could’ve said. “you’re disgusting.”

“you love me,” you hum, leaning against him as the two of you pass under a vermillion torii gate, the late sun bleeding through the trees.

there’s a pause. one of those small, quiet ones that feels like it means something.

and then—softly, like it’s for you alone—he says, “yeah. i do.”

✧✧✧

it’s late afternoon now. the light’s gone golden, syrupy, catching on the edge of every rooftop and temple lantern. you’re somewhere tucked into the hillside—he said he wanted to “see a view,” but didn’t tell you where. just kept tugging you up winding stone paths and ancient stairs, past vending machines buzzing with neon and little shrines with fox statues that watched you pass like they knew something you didn’t.

he’s been quiet. not tense, not grumpy. just… contained. like there’s something sitting behind his teeth, heavy on his tongue.

and that’s the thing about schlatt. he’s never been good at holding things in. anger, love, jealousy, joy—he’s always been a storm. even when he didn’t want to be. especially then.

you know because you’ve weathered all of it. you’ve sat in the eye of it, and you’ve been flung out to the edges. you’ve waited on phone calls that never came. you’ve let go first, more than once, because it felt like the only way to stop hurting.

the two of you have done this dance before—off, on, off again. long silences and soft reappearances. hurt feelings. messy apologies. a birthday text after six months of nothing. a drunken voicemail on new year’s eve that ended with “i still think about you when i hear that one stupid mitski song—fuck, forget i said that.”

and somehow, after all that, here you are again.

kyoto in the spring. his hand in yours.

you should’ve walked away for good, maybe. you told yourself you would. the last time was supposed to be the last time.

but then there was the time he flew out for your graduation, uninvited, just to sit in the back row and cry when you crossed the stage.

then there was the time your dog died and he left you three voicemails back to back—none of them made sense, his voice thick and panicked, like he was afraid the grief might swallow you whole if he didn’t say something.

and then, there was this trip. planned months ago, postponed, resurrected again when he said he had the miles, the time, the willingness to just be there. no strings. no pressure.

right.

✧✧✧

now he’s glancing around again, like he’s looking for an excuse to pull you somewhere more private.

and then—out of nowhere—he asks a tourist to take your picture.

it catches you off guard. you’re more of the “set it on a timer, hope for the best” type. but he actually stops, gestures to a couple in matching hoodies, and asks—polite, a little awkward—if they wouldn’t mind taking one.

you smile for the camera. he pulls you in close.

but you can feel it. his heart is racing.

his thumb rubs your waist like a nervous tic, and when the shutter clicks, he exhales like he’s been holding something in for hours.

“can i see?” you ask, reaching for the phone.

“nah,” he says, slipping it into his back pocket. “wanna keep this one a surprise.”

your stomach twists a little.

he starts walking again, faster now, and you jog a few steps to catch up.

and that’s when it hits you.

he’s gonna ask you to be his again.

you don’t know how exactly you realize it—but you know.

he’s done it before. you remember the way he looked at you, the softness in his voice, the apology he never fully said out loud. this feels like that again. like another almost. like another please give me one more chance.

and it makes your chest ache.

you don’t know if you can take it again—being his for a little while, only to have him push you away when it gets hard. when he forgets how to communicate. when he gets scared of being known.

how can you survive loving him once more just to lose him again?

but you also don’t know how to stop wanting him.

so you keep walking. letting him lead you wherever this is going.

heart pounding, already bracing yourself for the question you think he’s about to ask.

✧✧✧

it’s quiet up here.

you weren’t expecting this part of the trail to lead anywhere, but now you’re standing in a clearing, tucked into the side of the mountain. the air smells like pine needles and something faintly sweet—cherry blossoms, maybe, or the faint burn of incense drifting from a shrine below. a wooden fence lines the edge, more symbolic than sturdy, and past it: the whole city of kyoto, stretched out in gold and glass and haze.

it feels suspended. like time’s pressing pause just for the two of you.

you turn slowly, taking it all in. a temple bell rings in the distance.

“this is…” you start, then stop.

“beautiful,” you finish, voice quiet.

but schlatt’s not looking at the view.

he’s looking at you.

he shifts his weight awkwardly. his fingers twitch like they want something to hold—his sleeve, your hand, maybe the ground. you’ve seen him nervous before, but this is different. this is deeper. quieter.

and then, just as your brain starts to spin again:

“gimme your phone,” he says.

you blink. “what?”

he half-smiles, eyes still fixed on you. “wanna take a photo.”

you laugh, startled. “you? want to take a photo? you always say you look like a baked potato in selfies.”

“shut up,” he mutters, but there’s no heat in it. just that same fragile edge. “c’mon. humor me.”

you fish your phone from your pocket and hand it over.

he flips the camera to the front. steps closer. pulls you into the frame.

you lean in, still half-smiling, but something in you stills. his arm around your waist is tense, like he’s holding himself together by a thread.

then he says it. softly. almost absentmindedly.

“let’s take a photo of the moment i ask you to be mine again.”

it hits you like the air got knocked out of your chest.

your smile freezes.

you search his face for a trace of humor, but there’s none. just that same look—serious, steady, like the words were heavier than he realized when he let them out.

you try to swallow the flutter in your chest. the ache blooming behind your ribs. you’d guessed this was coming—but somehow, it still knocks the wind out of you.

but still.

you nod once. “yeah?” you ask, voice barely audible.

he doesn’t look away. doesn’t blink. just says—

“not like… girlfriend again.”

you don’t get it. not at first.

your mouth opens. “wait. then what—”

and that’s when he pockets the phone.

that’s when he steps back.

that’s when he lowers himself to one knee.

and that’s when the world around you just… dissolves.

no breeze. no trees. no skyline. just him.

just this.

you cover your mouth with your hands, instinctive and shaking.

he reaches into his jacket. pulls out a ring box.

it’s small. worn. like he’s been carrying it for longer than he’ll admit.

he opens it. a simple ring. gold band. classic. timeless. that rock is pretty damn perfect for you, too.

your heart’s pounding so hard it rattles through your ribs, up your spine, out your fingertips.

he exhales—sharp, shaky—and starts to speak.

“i didn’t plan a speech,” he says. “didn’t want this to be some polished thing with notecards and bullet points and all the right lines. i’m not good at that shit. never have been.”

you laugh—just once, shaky and wet.

he keeps going.

“i just… i’ve loved you for a long time. longer than i said it. longer than i even knew it. and we’ve had our shit—we’ve had so much shit. we’ve been stupid. we’ve hurt each other. you’ve left. i’ve left. i ruined things more than once. and i hate that.”

he looks up at you, eyes glassy now.

“but you keep showing up. you keep loving me. even when i didn’t deserve it. even when i didn’t know how to ask for it.”

he swallows.

“and i keep coming back to you. every single time.”

you sniff, pressing your fingers harder against your mouth to stop the sob forming in your throat.

“i don’t wanna ask you to be my girlfriend again. i don’t want temporary, or next time, or if things get better. i don’t want another try.”

he takes a breath. deep. steadying.

“i want forever. with you. just you.”

he holds out the ring, fingers trembling.

“will you marry me?”

you drop your hands. you’re crying. really crying.

but your head is already nodding. your voice is already cracking around the word—

“yes,” you whisper. “yes. yes, of course. yes!”

he stands—too fast, like he forgot how legs work—and you throw yourself into his arms, almost knocking him off balance. you’re both laughing now, a little hysterically, a little breathless. his arms wrap tight around you, grounding you, anchoring you.

“i was so fucking scared,” he mumbles into your hair.

“you’re so fucking stupid,” you breathe against his chest.

he pulls back just enough to kiss you. once. gentle. reverent.

then he fumbles for your phone again, thumb wiping at your tear-streaked face even as he raises the camera.

“smile,” he says, voice thick.

“i literally look like i’ve been sobbing in a wind tunnel,” you croak.

“perfect,” he grins. “that’s what i want.”

he snaps the photo.

you, face flushed and overwhelmed, tears still shining in your lashes.

him, smiling like he finally got to come home.

he looks at the screen for a second, then back at you.

“that one’s goin’ on the wall.”

#vuewrites #jschlatt #schlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt headcanons #schlatt headcanons #jschlatt imagines #schlatt imagines #jschlatt x you #schlatt x you

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vultursvolans · 10 months ago

Text

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆: RYU’S FIRST KINKTOBER!

ft. genshin, bsd, obey me, one piece, tokyo revengers, black butler

— ♤ YANDERE: OCT 3RD

꒰ yandere!dottore x fem!reader ꒱ — emotional manipulation, psychological manipulation, stalking, gullible!reader, dubcon, 3.5k wc

— ♤ PET PLAY: OCT 10TH

꒰ fyodor dostoyevsky x gn!reader ꒱ — messy blowjob, facial, he’s mean, dubcon 1.6k wc

— ♤ POWER IMBALANCE: OCT 17TH

꒰ zhongli x fem!reader ꒱ — morax!form, draconic!form mention, human!reader 2.8k wc

— ♤ CUNNILINGUS + EDGING: OCT 24TH

꒰ nami x gn!reader ꒱ — oral!giving, dom!reader, 0.5k

— ♤ DEMON FUCKING: OCT 27TH

꒰ multichara x fem!reader ꒱ — omswd demon!form lucifer, demon!form mammon (seperate!), ovulating!reader (for lucifer), creampie, monsterfucking, re-written and re-uploaded from old acc, 1.5k wc

— ♤ GUN PLAY: OCT 31ST

꒰ bonten!sanzu haruchiyo x fem!reader ꒱ — alcohol consumption, semi-public, impact (slaps your ass once) 1.8k wc

— ♤ BONUS SOFT OPENING: OCT 1ST

꒰ sebastian michaelis x fem!phantomhive reader꒱ — sfw, gothic, forbidden love, slight power imbalance, confession, 2.7k wc

⋆⭒˚.⋆ 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐒 & 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

My timezone is AEST / GMT+10 so my uploads might come early to you.

You must be an adult to interact. Minors/ageless blogs will be blocked.

If you want to be tagged in any of these, comment or send me an ask off anon with an age indicator somewhere on your page!

HEED THE WARNINGS ‼️

MOST OF IT IS DARK CONTENT‼️

More warnings may or may not be added if I decide to edit some pieces.

Word counts may or may not change.

All kinktober posts will be tagged #ryu’s kinktober 2024 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ so you can block it if you want to.

I’ve been writing on here since 2021 but this is my very first kinktober. Please be kind!

PSD template is by Somresources on Deviantart

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Music source

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becomingmina · 1 year ago

Note

thanks for the clarification ♡

so here is the thought I had

hyunjin and reader being each other's crush but absolutely idiotic about it so they don't know the other's feelings

they have common friends that are sick of the tension between the two. one decides to tell hyunjin, the other suggests the reader to do something to make hyunjin jealous so she can find out if he likes her. (boring I know)

one time when everyone's around, she flirts with jisung or something idk and she gets too touchy so hyunjin is annoyed af. pulls her away to somewhere private and voila, they've confessed in the best way possible 😌🌸

CRUSH. anon request w/ HYUNJIN.

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing: hyunjin x female reader genre + warnings: friends to lovers, smut mdni!, oral (both f & m receiving), hyunjin calls reader kitten, semi-public wc: 5.4k mina's note: Anon also wanted to throw ‘kitten’ in it (my fav pet name 👀) Also I really enjoyed writing this & love how much details you put on the request!! My box is open for feedback 💓

other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

You don’t know how you got in this situation but here you are; staring at your friend who is currently playing basketball, topless. Well, you’re more like drooling over him.

He just looked so good, so hot. His tall, lean, milky body just running around on the court covered in a thin layer of sweat. Normally you hate the thought of sweat, but it works for him. It works well for Hwang Hyunjin, actually. He even looks like he smells nice too. You watch as he laughs at the other players, hogging the ball like the main character in some high school drama. Your eyes waver from his pretty smile to his muscular arms to his piercing, which is sitting so perfectly under his eyebrow, then to his burgundy hair.

You pay attention the beads of sweat that trickles from his hair to his chest, dripping down his body. You gulped when you see them land on the area just underneath his belly button. You completely loss your sanity as your eyes covered that area. His treasure trail? Happy trail? Whatever people called it. Why was it so sexy on Hyunjin?

You quickly look away before anyone catches you; you shouldn’t be looking at him like that. Hyunjin is your friend.

When you meet him two years ago in your first year of college, he was just some guy in class you become friends with. He is good looking, but you didn’t find him attractive. There was no chemistry, no tension, no feelings. You don’t know how it started but you find yourself thinking about him every other hour of the day now. You would freeze when someone else mentions his name, blush when he was in close proximity of you and even stutter when he speaks to you.

“Hey.. Hey Y/N,” a voice snapping you out of your thoughts, followed by a nudge on your shoulder.

“Hm?” You answered, unaware of who was even calling out to you. You turn your head and there he was, your crush Hwang Hyunjin crouching down next to you, smiling at your blank reaction. You’re used to him towering over you since he was way taller than you but to have him crouched down like this looking at you makes you feel a bit.. timid.

“I’m going to borrow this,” he says dangling your fresh hand towel in-front of you. Oh yeah, the hand towel you carry around in your bag just in case your physical education professor makes you participate in class. The one you won’t let anyone use or even touch.

When they say having a crush makes you do crazy stuff, they do mean it. You were quick to lean him it.

“Huh.. uhh yeah, sure,” you answered, eyes travelling from your towel to his face again.

When you realised you’ve been staring at him longer than you should have, you cough and drop eye contact, making Hyunjin gulped a little bit too loud. “I don’t need it anyways you can keep—”

“—I’ll return it,” he says with a smile. “I’ll wash it first of-course.” You nod your head quietly as you gather up your belongings, getting ready to go to your next class.

“Come on Hyunjin, we are going to be late for class!” Chan, the oldest out of the friend group, calls out to him.

“So.. I’ll see you at lunch then?” Hyunjin says after noticing your quietness.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at lunch,” you mumbled, shooting him a quick glance.

“Bye bro,” Hyunjin says to Minho, giving him a handshake before collecting his bag and going off with Chan.

Minho chuckles at the scene that just unfolded in-front of him; two of his best friends obviously crushing on one another but no one is making a move. Well, it’s not really you and Hyunjin’s fault since you guys don’t know about the other person’s feelings.

“You know he likes you right?” Minho blurted out and you turn your head to his direction.

“Who?” You answered nervously. Did Minho just witness everything?

“Hyunjin,” Minho replies with raised eyebrows, his smug a little bit too cocky for your liking today. You rolled your eyes at him but underneath your skin, you are hot, flustered, embarrassed.

“No way!” you denied. Hyunjin could never like you, he only saw you as a friend.

“He does—”

You scoffed a little bit too fast.

“Do you not see the way he looks at you Y/N?” You can’t tell if Minho was being serious or not.

Minho does have a history of being a joker which makes you think he’s just pranking you. But he also is a very honest friend, he would never joke around with stuff that could potentially hurt you.

“Uhhhh—” you hesitantly reply.

Minho takes in a loud breath, “—I don’t know if you’re genuinely dense or you just don’t want to admit it.”

“He doesn’t like me,” you answered.

“He does,” Minho turns his head behind to look at Hyunjin and you followed. You watch as the two made their way across the field, Chan wrapping his arms around Hyunjin’s shoulder trying to snatch your towel away from him.

“Oh, you don’t want to give it to me because that’s your girl’s towel?” Chan laughs, basically choking Hyunjin at this point.

“She’s.. she’s not.. my girl..” Hyunjin softly replies in a cough, not sure if he was actually being choked by Chan’s big arms or by choking up at you being called his girl.

“She’s not your girl.. yet?” The older boy teased.

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin questioned, hoping Chan didn’t see through him.

Chan looked back at you and Minho who was still sitting by the basketball court. You swiftly turn back to Minho, hoping Chan didn’t catch you starring at Hyunjin.

“Trust me,” Minho said with his smug face, raising his brow to the older boy across the field. “You know how to tell if he likes you?”

You stay quiet. You were curious but didn’t want to seem like it, so you just raised your eyebrow. Tell me, tell me Lee Minho!

“Make him jealous,” Minho says lifting his chin to Jisung who was currently surrounded by a group of girls shoving their gym towel into his face.

You know what Minho was referring to; that’s how Felix ended up with Nayeon. Minho suggested to Nayeon to make Felix jealous by sitting next to Jisung at some dinner since he was such a girl magnet. Next thing you know she was pulled away from the table by Felix and they have been together ever since.

You scoffed. It sure worked for them, but you weren’t going to use Jisung like that; he was your friend.

“I’m not going to use Han-Ji like that,” you replied.

“Okay look..” he blinks a little too hard at you. “Just use Han-Ji.. He is also as tired as we all are of you and Hyunjin’s….” He pauses. “..tension..”

“Who is we?” You asked confused.

Who else has been noticing your little crush on Hyunjin? Is what you really wanted to ask your best friend, but you don’t.

“..And there’s no tension between me and Hyunjin.. I don’t know what you talking about,” deny deny deny.

“Everyone in the friend group can feel the tension, you idiot,” the nickname causing you to pout. “Felix, Bin, Min, Lia—”

“—Hyunjin doesn’t like me.”

“Bet?” He was too quick with this. “I’ll let you have bragging rights if he doesn’t like you. But I get the bragging rights if he does,” he suggested.

“Huh, what?” Both of them sound bad to you. Why would you be happy with bragging rights if Hyunjin doesn’t like you back? It would sting you! And if by chance Hyunjin likes you back, you would hate to deal with Minho’s telling the whole campus he was cupid. What the hell was Minho on?

“What?” He laughed after noticing your face, full of displeasure. “I mean, the worst that could happen is he doesn’t like you back.. But then that means you get bragging rights?” Minho laughs tilting his head to the side. He can read you well.

“Dude you’re insufferable!” You rolled your eyes. He was still looking at you with his smirk.. Oh wait. “What do you mean like me back? I don’t like him,” you denied, it but wasn’t fast enough, he had caught you.

“Sure.. I know everything. Come on, trust me. I’m your best friend,” Minho nudges your shoulders. “Remember the party this weekend? How you rather sit at home and do nothing. Well maybe you should just come. We haven’t seen you out in a while.. Come, and be prettier than this..” he says looking down at your gym wear. You were in baggy sweat shorts and an even baggier t-shirt. “And I’ll help you get with him-”

“—Hey!” you shove his shoulder back. “What’s wrong with me now?!” You look down at your attire. It was gym class anyways of course you would be in this, even if you don’t participate.

“What? Nothing,” he answers playfully. “Come on, we going to be late to our next class!” Minho gets up before opening up his hand to help you up. “Han-ji, we’re late!”

It was lunch time and you and Han-Ji ditched Minho to go down to the college’s local bakery to get some lunch.

“You’re totally not coming to the party?” Minho asked Hyunjin who was sat at the lunch table, eating his huge burrito. Seungmin, Felix and Chan were also there chiming into the conversation.

“Who’s going?” Hyunjin asked, a mouth full.

“Just the usual.. us. So, Chris, Bin, Jeongin, Yeji.. and then half of the third years are invited,” Hyunjin doesn’t look too interested. Don’t get the wrong idea, he loves his friends and parties, but he had also seen them every single day on campus, so he had no fear of missing out.

“…oh and Y/N says she’s going to come too,” Minho blurted, playing full attention to his friends reaction.

Hyunjin’s ears perks up at your name, his cheeks suddenly growing pink as he looks back at Minho.

“Actually.. I’ll come. Haven’t been had fun in a while,” Hyunjin drops the eye contact when he notices Minho’s sneer. “You want me to bring anything?” Hyunjin continues a little twitchy, playing with his food.

Minho just laughs. This was getting too exciting for him. “Bring your courage!” The rest of the boys laughed.

“What?” Hyunjin asked, narrowing his eyes at the crowd.

“You like Y/N, don’t you?” Seungmin exclaimed catching Hyunjin by surprised.

“Umm...” Hyunjin freezes. He doesn’t know how to answer. Of course, he likes you, but he didn’t want to admit knowing the boys were definitely going to tease him even more for it. But he didn’t want to say no just in case they spin it around to say he doesn’t like you at all as a friend.

“Don’t worry bro, she likes you too,” Minho break the silence. Hyunjin’s heart stop at his best friend’s words. He didn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t that.

“Really? She likes me back?” Hyunjin replies promptly, a sheer smile pulling on his face. He was definitely blushing.

“Back.. So you do like her?” Chan torments Hyunjin again and Hyunjin’s smile slowly faded form his face. They had caught him too.

“Hey Y/N!” Felix calls out and the rest of the boys look over Hyunjin’s shoulder. He wanted to spin back to check but he didn’t want the boys to play more into his eagerness, so he just freezes looking straight at them.

“Hi Lix!” Your voice calls from behind him.

“Come here! Hurry!” Felix continues to make conversation with you.

“Bro just ask her out already, we’re all tired of the tension,” Chan quickly expresses.

“What tension?” Hyunjin was desperate to see what they had to say before you got to the table.

“Sexual tension,” Seungmin whispers and everyone goes silence, pressing their lips trying to hold back their smile.

“There’s no tension between me and—”

“—Okay you say there’s so tension? I guess Han-Ji can make his move then,” Minho interrupted, surprising Hyunjin again.

“Does Han-Ji likes Y/N—"

“—Shh she’s behind you,” Chan shushes the younger boy up before he could finish his sentence.

“Hey..” Hyunjin says timidly before you could even sit down.

“Hey..” you replied back, climbing over the bench so you can sit next to him. The whole group watches as Hyunjin blushed at your proximity. “Sit here,” you pat the area on the other side of you for Jisung to sit.

“Coffee and pastries for lunch? That place is like a 10 minute walk,” Chan askes from across the table.

“It’s okay, Han-ji keeps me company,” you say as you nudge Jisung a little bit and you both open up your pastry bag.

Hyunjin glances at you from aside, he stays quiet.

Hyunjin doesn’t know how to feel. He didn’t expect his boys to catch on about his feelings for you and he didn’t expect Minho to blurt out that you like him back. Hyunjin is also confused after seeing how close Han-Ji is to you too, he never really questions your close relationship until now. Does Han-Ji actually like you? Thoughts flood his brain as he continues to eat his burrito.

You rushed home from your last Friday class to get ready for the party. You threw on one of your mini sun dress, pairing it up with some sandals and a cross body bag before collecting your black cardigan and rushing out to Yeji who was ready in the living room waiting to do some pre-party shots with you.

You and Yeji tipsy-ly made it to the loudest house on the street. Lee Minho’s residency. It was only 8pm and it was already crowded. She held your hand and clumsy pulls you through dim-lit hallways packed with people before reaching the living room. There they were, all of your friends in the living room with a drink in their hand, conversing with one another.

“There they are!” Seungmin yells as he sees you and his girlfriend. He quickly makes his way to rip Yeji off you, pulling her into the kitchen to get a drink.

“Wow, my best friend finally came to one of my parties!” Minho appears out of no where handing you a beer.

“I was here two months ago Min..” You playfully rolled your eyes. “When you and Nayeon vomited everywhere and me and Felix had to bathe you guys.. naked,” you refreshed his memory.

“I remember.. Crazy night..” Minho laughs. He stops to look you up and down before grabbing your shoulders. “Very pretty Y/N. You planning to make someone jealous?” He complimented before getting back to his little mischiefs.

“Maybe,” you answered looking around the room. You hadn’t seen Hyunjin yet and Minho notices.

“Your boy is hella tipsy by the way, he keeps telling me he’s nervous but won’t tell me why,” Minho informs you.

“He’s not my boy.”

“Sure.. okay, anyways so not your boy is currently staring at you from behind,” Minho also announced as he stares at Hyunjin from over your shoulder.

Hyunjin’s heart stops at your presence. He has always found you pretty but tonight, he found you extremely gorgeous. Maybe because tonight was the night, he was going to let you know about his feelings. He takes another sip of his drink, pondering how he’s going to pull you away. He wanted to find the perfect timing, he didn’t want to do it too early just in case you reject him, and he has to go home early.

He watches you as you make your way to Jisung who was currently sat on the tiniest fucking armchair he had ever seen.

“Han-Ji!” You were going to follow Minho’s instructions; you either leave tonight with Hyunjin or rejected by Hyunjin but with bragging rights.

“Hey Y/N, you look like you had a couple of drinks already,” Jisung says as he touches his owns cheeks to indicate where your pink complexion was. You nodded bashfully to your friend before getting up on the arm of the chair to sit.

“It’s wet there, I just spilled my drink there. Come here,” Jisung stops you before you could sit. He pulled your arm so you can squeeze next to him on the tiny fucking armchair. You hope Hyunjin was watching.

“You okay?” Jisung asks cupping your face to lean your head against his shoulder - he knows how tired you get when you drink.

“Mhmm,” you closed your eyes as you continue to converse with your friend.

Hyunjin was still watching everything from the other side of the room. His hand was wrapped around his drink tightly, expressing his annoyance at the skin-ship and at himself for not pulling you away the second you got here, like he wasn’t waiting all night just for you to arrive. He starts to feel a little jealous now that your attention is on Han-Ji. And maybe Minho was right, and Han-Ji does have feelings for you.

He had to do it. He had to pull you away and ask why you hadn’t noticed his feelings for you all this time. He feels himself grow hot, he was feeling tense.

Hyunjin takes in a deep breath before downing the drink, squeezing his cup on the process. The plastic from the red cup causes disturbance making the boys turn their head at their friend.

“You good, pretty boy?” Changbin asks noticing the change in Hyunjin’s demeanour, taking the red cup out of his hand.

“Yeah, just need some air,” Hyunjin says running a hand through his fluffy red hair as he makes his way to you.

“Can we talk?” Someone askes from above you and you instantly open your eyes, locking eyes with them.

You feel your heart skip a beat as you finally see him. He had on some baggy jeans with a black t-shirt, one sleeved rolled up complementing his muscular arm. God, he looked so hot; you feel yourself drooling over him again.

“Okay.” You answered softly.

“Come,” he says, grabbing a hold of your hand making you get up from the chair. You heart start to flutter at his brace. Was it happening now? Is Hyunjin jealous?

He guides you through the crowd of people in the living room before dragging you up the stairs and towards Minho’s bedroom. He lets you enter first before locking the door behind him.

Your eyes wonder around Minho’s bedroom - his room was dark, quite clean, quite quiet for such a loud guy. You scoff to yourself quietly at the contrast. As you spin around the room, Hyunjin watches you and smiles at your cuteness before getting back to his senses of why he pulled you here in the first place.

“Are you drunk?” He asked suddenly.

“Hmm? Not quite yet,” you answered, making your way into Minho’s ensuite. “Why?” You asked so he can follow you, just testing the waters.

You placed your bag on the counter before digging through it trying to find your lipstick.

“What are you doing then?” Hyunjin asked towering behind you looking at you through the mirror.

“What do you mean?” You glance up at him to ask before going through your bag again, acting like you had no idea what was going on, even though your heart was beating just as fast as his.

“What were you doing up on Han-Ji like that?” Yep, he saw everything.

“I wasn’t on him?” You lied.

“Y/N.” He was getting a little be frustrated at your replies, you were obviously up to something.

“Why does it matter to you anyways—”

“—It’s making me jealous.” Hyunjin interrupted you making you glance up at him again. Minho’s plan was working. Minho was right.

You spin around to face him and finally, you can feel the tension everyone was talking about. He likes you. You feel your heart beating rapidly as he stares into your eyes. Your breathing becomes heavier as he takes another step towards you. You try to keep eye contact just to see if he drops it first, but he doesn’t. Your eyes drop first, to his lips then up to his eyes then back to his lips. They looked so full, so soft. Wouldn’t be crazy if you guys just kissed?

“Hyunjin?” You say above a whisper, lips forming into a pout right after. Hyunjin found you so precious looking up at him like this.

His resting face rapidly turns into a smirks now as he watches your eyes flicker to his lips. He knew what you wanted; he knows how you feel now. “Hmm?” He questioned, just to tease you a little bit.

“Can you just kiss me already?” You say, not begging but with a hint of desperation. You like him and you just confirmed he likes you, what were you guys waiting for?

He chuckles before his hand comes up to your face, cupping it for a second then he leans and kisses you. His lips felt so soft, so warm just like how you imagined them felt. You couldn’t explain the feeling, it was like you were in dream, it’s incredible.

Soon Hyunjin deepens the kiss, letting his tongue enter your mouth as one of his hand keeps your face in place, the other snaked down your body to your waist. Your tongue swiped against his lips, and you tasted a bit of lemonade and tequila. If this was a way to drink tequila, then you were all for it.

“Up,” he pulls away to say and you listen jumping onto the counter with the help of his grip. You spread your legs so he can stand in between them. He looks at you in awe, he couldn’t control his smile.

“You didn’t answer me..” he says as his hands find their way under your dress just resting on your thighs.

“Hm?” You whimpered, wanting his lips back on yours.

“What were you doing up on Han-Ji like that?” Hyunjin asked again, a little lower, a little more raspier now that he’s more confident to dominate you.

“To make you jealous,” you whisper back to him, admitting to all your little shenanigans.

“Why?” He couldn’t hold back his smile.

“To see if you like me back.” You say, and his ears perked up at your words.

“You got your answer?”

“Mhmm..” you admit.

“Good.”

“But.. want to hear you say it,” you reply cheekily, your arms coming to wrap around his shoulders to pull him close to you so your lips are barely touching.

He lets out an airy breath before pressing a kiss to your lips, letting it linger on for a little bit just to make your heart flutter once more for him. “I like you,” he says, and you try to conceal the smile pulling up on your face. “Happy?”

“Yes.”

“Where were we?” Hyunjin says and you pull him back onto you.

Maybe it was the pent up sexual tension you both had been holding in as, as soon as your lips were connected again, it became again heated. His hands are fondling with your thighs, and his tongue is slipped back down your mouth. You feel a hot sensation making its way to your core, a moan slipping from your lips. He smirked in between the kisses, his hands inching up higher now hiking you dress up.

Hyunjin continues his kisses down your neck, and you tilt your head back, letting him cover more area with his lips.

As he harshly sucks on your neck, your hands start to explore his body, caressing up and down his chest, down his covered stomach. You slowly creep them lower to his hard on that was pressing against the counter, begging to be touch. He lets out a groan at the contact.

“Hyunjin?” you whimpered at how stiff he was. You both wanted more but not on this cold bathroom counter. “Are we actually doing this here?” You ask.

“Where else would you do it?” Hyunjin looks down at you his a raised eyebrow, his hands stopping at your hips.

You look around before cheekily suggesting, “Minho’s bed,” and he cracks up.

“Come,” he takes a step back to hold your hand as you jump off the counter.

Hyunjin pulls you back onto him as he sat back on Minho’s bed - it was comfier than he expected, it was actually quite comfy to fuck on actually.

“You’re such a good kisser, it making me so horny,” He says, gripping your thighs so you’re straddling him. You feel his hard-on abusing your core and you become like jelly, draping yourself onto him. God, it was also making you so horny.

Are you both really gonna fuck in your best friend’s bed? Probably.

“Hyunjin?” You start to suck on his neck, returning the marks he gave you. “Wanna blow you… can I?” You asked, rolling your hips onto his.

He sucks in a sharp breath at the pleasure, halting your hips. “Fuck— kitten..” The pet name slipping from his lips, making you stop whatever you were doing to look him in the eyes. Did he just call you kitten? And did you like it?

“Yeah? Wanna be a good kitten? And suck me off right here in your best-friend room?” He teased after seeing your eyes lit up at the name.

“Yes.. wanna be a good kitten,” you replied, lifting his shirt to slowly to expose his abs, your hand lazily runs across his milky body.

You shuffled back, kneeling down by the bed before peeking at his happy trail. You finally got to see it up close, and you didn’t waste anytime before attaching your lips to it. Hyunjin’s hand flung to hold onto your hair and he lets out a groan as you suck the skin around his navel.

“You’re just like a kitten, nipping into me like that,” he moans.

“You love it,” you teased him.

“Yeah I do..” he confesses breathlessly. “Couldn’t stop thinking back to gym class yesterday.. how you eyed it all lesson..” Oh, so he caught you staring but didn’t say anything?

“Was it driving you insane?” He torments and you murmured nodding your head.

“God, kitten… need your mouth now, I’m might cum untouched,” he begs and you chuckle, blowing hot air from your mouth at his skin causing him to flinch.

You give him what he wants. You undo his jeans, shimmering it down his thighs before palming him through his boxer.

“Y/N, please..” he begs again, closing his eyes to hold in his release.

“You’re so big,” you say the second you pull down his boxer letting his red rock solid dick slap across his stomach. You didn’t expect him to be him to be this big, this thick. You gulp at it before wrapping your hands around him. “Wanna taste..” you blabbered as you brought his tip to your lips.

Hyunjin’s head kick back as you wrap your lips around his head. His hands gripped your hair tightly as he starts to set the pace, and you let him. He pushes you down taking half his length into your mouth before guiding you back up. You moan as he slides down your mouth, unable to control the pleasure you were having from just giving him head. Once you go match his pace, Hyunjin lets go of his grip and runs his through your hair, endlessly praising you as he tries to keeps himself together.

“You’re so good—” he sucks in another breath.

You take him fully into your mouth and gagged once he hits the back of your throat. “Ahh, cuming- cuming—” he lets out a low grunt as he paints your throat white. You swallow the warm thick liquid before letting go of him with a pop.

“Kitten, you’re so perfect. Such a good mouth,” he says finding your arm and pulling up to sit on his lap.

“Can I return the favour?” His hand wrapped around your hips, his finger carefully gathering the fabric of your skirt so he can expose your panties.

“I don’t know if I can keep quiet Hyunjin,” you admitted. You can still hear the loud music outside, even if it was muffled by the walls but a part of you’re still afraid someone might hear you. You couldn’t even keep it in while making out, nor sucking him off, you don’t know how you’ll be if you guys actually have sex.

“But I can’t leave you high like this,” Hyunjin replies, his two fingers just touching the fabric of your panties that was getting soaked by your wetness. You kick your head back at the pleasures “I just know you’re wet from sucking me off.. Let me, let me just eat you out..” he begged, his eyes turned dark full of lust.

“Please,” you gave in, out of breath.

Hyunjin plants a kiss to your neck before laying you down on the bed.

“Fuck, you are soaked,” Hyunjin says the second he lifts up your dress and sees the huge wet patch on your underwear. He kneels down and peels it off, watching a thin line of your wetness pulls off with it. Hyunjin spreads your legs wider and his eyes rolls to the back of his head as exposes you. You were wet, glistening, it was so hot to him.

You let out a moan as the cold from Minho’s room brushed against your core. “Please, need your mouth,” it was your turn to beg.

Hyunjin complies and attached his lips to your pussy. “Ahh! Mhmm.. More..” you weren’t kidding when you said you don’t know if you can keep quiet.

Hyunjin buries his face deeper as he contents to lick all over you, his nose rubbing against your clit. He was basically pussy drunk at his stage, gripping and pulling your hip closer to his faces. Your head falls back as you feel the pleasure building up in your core, your thighs volunteering closing around his head to add more pressure.

“I’m going cum, please.. Hyunjin— gonna cum..” you whine as he harshly sucks on your clit now, it was basically the cheat code in making you cum and he was able to get it the first time.

You moaned as you feel a glush of wetness explode from your core, you had cum. Hyunjin can tell you’re orgasming but he didn’t want to stop, you were too addicting.

You had to rip him off of you before you were overstimulated. “Hyunjin, too much,” you whined and he finally lifts his head.

“You taste too good kitten, sorry couldn’t stop,” he says and he wipes your wetness around his mouth with the back of his hand before licking it.

“Come here,” he jumps on the bed, pulling you into his arms. He runs his finger through your hair as you recover. You both stare at each other for a while before falling into a fit of giggles. How crazy is it that you were each other’s crush and not realising it.

“Should we go back out?” He asked smoothing down your hair.

“I have to touch up my lipstick first,” you say, pecking his nose.

“Let me help you,” he pulls you up from the bed before back hugging you to the bathroom where your bag was.

“Back to mine tonight, okay?” He reminded you softly as he wipes your lipstick in your lips - a hint of innocence radiating from him like he didn’t just lap up all your juices like a greedy animal.

“Of course, I have no where else I rather be tonight,” you answered, grinning from ear to ear at your pretty boy.

“Can’t believe it took you to squeeze into that tiny chair with Han-Ji for me to tell you,” Hyunjin beats himself up.

“It’s okay Hyunjin, I reckon the timing was perfect,” you reassured.

The house was packed now than before, it took you and Hyunjin a while to squeeze through all the people. Minho watch as you both hold hands, happily, making your way down the stairs, his smug pulling back on his face.

“Who got the bragging rights?” Minho asks cheekily as you both walk past him.

“You.” You answered rolling your eyes and Hyunjin laughs.

“You also got a messy bed too, bro,” Hyunjin taps Minho by the shoulders before following you.

Minho was left mouth agape as he stares up at the stairs. “Did they just…”

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