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elryuse · 30 days ago

Text

My Toxic Exes

Genre : Smut

Idol : Yeji, Giselle & Julie

Tags : Ex Gf Yeji, Giselle & Julie, Dirty Talking, Secret Sex, Cheating, Lots of Kissing, Sweaty Sex,

Word : 8,838 Word

Love isn’t supposed to hurt like this.

That’s what you tell yourself as you stare at the ceiling, your body sinking into the mattress, numb. Your room is dark except for the faint glow of your phone screen, the only source of light illuminating the night.

Her last message still lingers on the screen.

"You’re overthinking."

You squeeze your eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. The images are still there. Her texts to someone else. The photo of them together. The way she denied it so easily, as if your feelings meant nothing.

Yeji.

The first girl you ever truly loved. The first girl who shattered you.

The first time you see her, she’s standing on a stage, dressed in a sharp black blazer and a white button-up shirt, her long, sleek hair tucked neatly behind her ears. She’s in the middle of a debate, her voice unwavering, her gaze sharp.

She’s stunning—not just in appearance, but in presence. She owns the room without even trying, commanding respect with every word she speaks.

You’re not supposed to be here. You only came because your friend begged you to watch their team compete, but now, all you can focus on is her.

When the debate ends, she wins—of course she does. You expect her to be cold and distant, but when she walks past you, she’s laughing with her teammates, her confidence melting into something warm and inviting.

And then, she notices you.

"Hey," she says, stopping in front of you. "Enjoy the debate?"

You blink. For a second, you think she’s talking to someone else. But no—her sharp brown eyes are locked onto yours, waiting.

"Uh, yeah," you stammer, caught off guard. "You were… really good."

She smirks, tilting her head slightly. "Thanks. I try."

And just like that, she walks away, leaving you standing there, completely entranced.

You don’t know it yet, but this is the beginning of something that will change you forever.

Getting to know Yeji is like getting close to a wildfire—intoxicating, thrilling, and impossible to control.

She’s not like anyone you’ve ever met before. She’s driven, passionate, and fiercely independent. She doesn’t need anyone, but somehow, she chooses you.

You start seeing her more often. First, it’s casual—study sessions, late-night talks about life and ambitions. Then, it becomes something more.

One night, after a long day of studying, you walk her home. It’s late, the streets nearly empty, and the cool night air makes your breath visible.

"You’re different," she says suddenly, breaking the silence.

You glance at her. "Different how?"

She shrugs, kicking a small pebble on the sidewalk. "Most guys I meet try too hard to impress me. But you… you’re just yourself."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Is that a good thing?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

She stops walking and turns to face you, her eyes searching yours. Then, without warning, she steps closer, closing the distance between you.

"It is," she murmurs.

And before you can process what’s happening, she kisses you.

It’s soft, hesitant at first, but then it deepens, her fingers curling into your hoodie as if she doesn’t want to let go.

When she finally pulls away, she grins.

"Let’s do this," she says. "Let’s see where this goes."

And just like that, you’re hers.

Being with Yeji is exhilarating. She challenges you, pushes you to be better, makes you feel like you can conquer anything.

She takes you to places you’ve never been, introduces you to people who admire her just as much as you do. She’s everything you never knew you needed—strong, fearless, and completely captivating.

But then, the cracks start to show.

It begins with small things. She gets easily frustrated when you don’t immediately understand something. She makes little comments about how you could "try harder" or "be more ambitious."

"You should be more confident," she tells you one day when you hesitate to speak in a group setting. "I can’t keep carrying the conversation for you."

It stings, but you brush it off. Maybe she just wants you to improve. Maybe she’s right.

Then, she starts getting distant.

She cancels plans more often, says she’s busy, but you start noticing the way she’s always on her phone, texting someone. You tell yourself it’s nothing. She’s popular, she has a lot of friends.

But then, one night, everything changes.

You don’t mean to see it. You’re just grabbing her phone to check the time while she’s in the shower. But the moment you pick it up, a notification pops up.

A message from someone you don’t recognize.

"Last night was amazing. Can’t wait to see you again."

Your chest tightens.

You open the conversation. There are pictures—her with another guy, laughing, leaning into him the way she used to lean into you. The texts are flirty, intimate.

Your hands shake as you set the phone back down. Your mind races, trying to make sense of what you just saw.

When she comes out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her head, she notices your expression immediately.

"What’s wrong?" she asks.

You swallow hard. "Who is he?"

She freezes for a split second—just a moment, but it’s enough.

"Who?" she asks, too casually.

"You know who," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "I saw the messages, Yeji."

Silence.

Then, she exhales, rolling her eyes. "You’re overthinking."

Your heart cracks.

"Yeji, I saw the photos," you say, your voice trembling. "Just… tell me the truth."

She stares at you, and for the first time, you see something cold in her eyes—something detached.

"There’s nothing to tell," she says simply.

No apology. No remorse. Just a flat-out denial, as if you’re the one being unreasonable.

That’s when you realize—you could argue, you could beg for the truth, but it wouldn’t matter. She’s already decided to pretend like nothing happened.

And suddenly, you feel exhausted.

You thought love was supposed to be about trust, about believing in each other. But standing here, looking at her, you realize—this isn’t love. This is a game you’re never going to win.

So you do the only thing you can.

You leave.

You don’t cry that night. You just lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering where it all went wrong.

A part of you wants to believe she’ll call, that she’ll apologize, that she’ll tell you she made a mistake.

But deep down, you know she won’t.

Yeji never looks back.

And neither should you.

Moving on from Yeji isn’t easy.

Even after weeks pass, her absence lingers like a dull ache in your chest. You try distracting yourself—focusing on school, picking up new hobbies—but nothing fully silences the thoughts. The "what ifs" still creep in late at night, and the scars she left still sting when you least expect them.

But then, you meet Giselle.

And for the first time in a long while, you feel something different.

You don’t know much about her at first. You’ve seen her in passing, heard whispers of her name in hallways and classrooms. Giselle is popular—effortlessly so. She has that kind of energy that makes people gravitate toward her, a mix of confidence and playfulness that keeps her at the center of every social circle.

She’s the kind of girl you never thought you’d talk to, let alone date.

But fate has other plans.

It starts at a party—a rare event for you. Your friends practically drag you there, insisting you need to "get out more" after the whole Yeji situation. You don’t expect much. Just a few hours of music, drinks, and pretending to have fun.

But then, you see her.

Giselle is surrounded by people, laughing at something someone said, her presence magnetic. She’s wearing a sleek black dress, her long hair cascading over her shoulders. She looks… untouchable, like she exists in a different world.

And yet, somehow, her eyes find yours.

For a split second, your breath catches. You expect her to look away, to move on.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she smirks. Then, before you can react, she makes her way through the crowd and stops right in front of you.

"You look bored," she says, tilting her head. "Not a fan of parties?"

You chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck. "Not really my scene."

She raises an eyebrow. "Then why are you here?"

"My friends dragged me."

Her lips curve into a smile. "Mine too."

And just like that, a conversation starts.

It’s easy with her. She’s witty, teasing, but not in a mean way. She asks questions that catch you off guard, making you laugh, making you forget—if only for a moment—about everything else.

By the end of the night, you’re surprised to find yourself enjoying her company. And when she casually hands you her phone, telling you to put your number in, You don’t hesitate.

For the first time in months, something stirs in your chest.

Maybe, just maybe, this could be different.

Dating Giselle is like stepping into a dream.

Everything moves fast. One moment, you’re just getting to know her, and the next, you’re in the whirlwind of her world—late-night drives, spontaneous trips to the beach, secret rendezvous between classes.

She makes you feel special in a way you never have before.

"You’re cute when you’re flustered," she says one evening, tapping your nose playfully.

You groan. "I’m not flustered."

She laughs, leaning closer. "You totally are."

She always knows how to make you smile, how to pull you out of your shell. And for a while, you think this might actually work.

But then, the cracks begin to show.

It starts with little things.

She gets irritated when you don’t answer her texts fast enough, even if you’re busy.

"Why are you ignoring me?" she asks one day, her tone light but her eyes sharp.

"I’m not," you reply, confused. "I was in class."

She pouts. "You could’ve at least texted me back during the break."

You brush it off, thinking she just likes attention. But then, it escalates.

She starts getting jealous—of your friends, of your time, of anything that isn’t her.

"Do you really have to hang out with them?" she asks one evening when you mention plans with an old friend.

"They’re my friends, Giselle."

She crosses her arms. "I just don’t get why you need to spend time with them when you have me."

It doesn’t seem like a big deal at first. Maybe she just really likes you, you tell yourself. Maybe she just wants to feel secure.

But then, one night, everything changes.

It happens after a small argument.

You don’t even remember how it starts—something about you not paying enough attention to her, about her feeling like you don’t care.

"You don’t put in enough effort," she snaps.

You blink. "Giselle, I do my best—"

"It’s not enough!" she interrupts, her voice rising.

You’re taken aback. "What do you want from me?"

She glares at you, her jaw clenched. Then, suddenly, she throws your phone across the room.

It crashes against the wall.

You freeze.

For a long moment, there’s only silence. Then, her expression shifts. The anger melts away, replaced by something else—something almost… remorseful.

"I…" She exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. "I didn’t mean to do that."

But she did.

And you both know it.

Still, she steps forward, reaching for your hands. "I’m sorry," she murmurs. "I just… I love you so much, and I hate feeling like I’m not enough for you."

Her voice is soft, almost pleading. And for a second, your heart wavers.

But then you look at the broken phone on the floor.

And suddenly, you realize—you’ve been here before.

This isn’t love. This is control.

And you can’t do this again.

Leaving Giselle is harder than leaving Yeji.

Because she doesn’t let you go easily.

She texts, she calls, she shows up unannounced. She cries, begs, says she’ll change.

But you know better now.

And so, no matter how much it hurts, you walk away.

You think you’re done with love.

You think you’ll never let yourself fall again.

But then, you meet Julie.

And this time, you believe—just for a moment—that things will be different.

You tell yourself you won’t fall for anyone again.

Not after Yeji’s betrayal. Not after Giselle’s suffocating love. You’re tired of love—tired of opening your heart just to watch it be torn apart.

But then, Julie enters your life.

And for the first time in a long while, you start to believe again.

It happens unexpectedly, on a cold evening in a quiet café.

You’re sitting alone, scrolling through your phone, when she approaches.

"Mind if I sit here?"

You glance up, surprised. Julie is beautiful in an effortless way—long, silky hair, sharp eyes that seem to read you instantly. There’s an air of elegance about her, from the way she carries herself to the designer coat draped over her shoulders.

You hesitate. The café isn’t full; there are plenty of empty tables.

But something in her gaze tells you she’s here for a reason.

"Sure," you say.

She sits across from you, her perfume light but intoxicating.

"I’ve seen you here before," she says casually, stirring her coffee. "You always sit by yourself."

You chuckle. "I like the quiet."

She tilts her head. "Or maybe you just don’t like people?"

You blink, caught off guard. Most girls would be shy or polite, but Julie? She’s bold. Direct.

You smirk. "Maybe a little of both."

She laughs, and just like that, a conversation begins.

It’s easy with her. Too easy

She’s different from Yeji, from Giselle. She doesn’t play games, doesn’t test you. She listens. Really listens.

And for the first time in a long while, you don’t feel like you have to prove yourself.

With Julie, you can just be.

Dating Julie feels like a dream.

She’s rich—not just well-off, but the kind of wealthy that makes life effortless. Expensive dinners, surprise gifts, spontaneous weekend getaways—she showers you with things you never thought you’d have.

At first, it feels strange.

"I don’t need all this," you tell her one day when she buys you an expensive watch.

She just smiles, pressing it into your palm. "I know. That’s why I like spoiling you."

And you believe her.

Because Julie isn’t just rich—she’s caring. Understanding. She never gets jealous when you hang out with friends, never accuses you of not loving her enough.

She trusts you.

She makes you feel safe.

And after everything you’ve been through, that’s all you’ve ever wanted.

So, for the first time in forever, you let your guard down.

You let yourself love again.

And that’s when everything falls apart.

It starts with whispers.

Little things you hear in passing.

"Julie’s always hanging out with that guy."

"Did you see her at the bar last night? She was all over him."

You brush it off. Gossip means nothing. You trust her.

But then, the doubts creep in.

She cancels dates last minute.

She starts texting less, calling less.

And then, one night, you see it with your own eyes.

Julie, standing too close to another guy. Laughing. Letting him touch her waist. Acting like you don’t exist.

Your heart clenches, but you tell yourself to stay calm.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe there’s an explanation.

So you wait until you’re alone with her.

And you ask.

"Who was he?"

She raises an eyebrow, sipping her wine. "Who?"

"At the bar. The guy you were with."

She sighs, setting her glass down. "Just a friend."

"A friend who touches your waist?"

Her expression hardens. "Are you seriously jealous right now?"

You hesitate. "Julie, I just—"

"God, I can’t believe this," she mutters, standing up. "You’re just like every other guy. So insecure."

Your stomach twists. "I’m not—"

"Yes, you are." Her voice is sharp, cold. "I give you everything, and this is how you repay me? By accusing me?"

You feel like you’ve been punched.

"Julie," you whisper. "I just wanted the truth."

She scoffs, grabbing her coat. "The truth? Fine. Maybe I like the attention. Maybe I like feeling wanted. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you."

Her words hit harder than they should.

Because deep down, you know—love shouldn’t feel like this.

You take a shaky breath. "I can’t do this."

She stares at you. "What?"

"I can’t be with someone who makes me feel like I’m not enough."

For a moment, something flickers in her eyes. A flash of regret, maybe.

But it vanishes just as quickly.

She exhales, shaking her head. "Fine. Do whatever you want."

And just like that, she walks away.

No tears. No apologies.

Just… nothing.

Like you never meant anything at all.

You tell yourself you won’t cry.

But that night, as you lie in bed staring at the ceiling, the weight of everything crashes down on you.

Yeji. Giselle. Julie.

Three girls. Three heartbreaks.

You’ve given love everything you had. And every time, it’s been thrown back in your face.

So, you make a decision.

You’re done.

Done chasing love. Done trusting. Done believing in fairy tales.

From now on, you’ll be alone.

Because at least then, you won’t get hurt.

But then, you meet Yuna.

And suddenly, your heart isn’t so sure anymore.

You don’t believe in love anymore.

Not after Yeji, who shattered your trust.

Not after Giselle, who suffocated you with her possessiveness.

Not after Julie, who made you feel like you were nothing.

You’re tired. You’re exhausted. And most of all, you’re done.

You don’t chase love. You don’t wait for it.

Because you know, in the end, it always leaves you broken.

But then, you meet her.

And for the first time in a long while, something inside you stirs.

Something terrifying.

Something hopeful.

It happens on a rainy afternoon.

You’re in a bookstore, flipping through pages of a novel you don’t plan on buying. The rain outside taps against the windows, a soft rhythm that matches the quietness of the shop.

You like it here. It’s peaceful. A place where no one knows you.

Or so you think.

"You like that author?"

A soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

You glance up.

And that’s when you see her.

She stands a few feet away, holding a book against her chest. She’s dressed simply—sweater, jeans, sneakers—but there’s something effortlessly beautiful about her.

Her eyes, warm and curious, meet yours.

For a second, you forget how to breathe.

You clear your throat. "Uh… yeah. I guess."

She smiles. "You don’t sound so sure."

You chuckle, scratching the back of your neck. "I’ve never read their books before. Just browsing."

She nods, stepping closer. "It’s a good one. Kind of sad, though."

You raise an eyebrow. "You like sad books?"

She tilts her head. "I think sad stories are more honest."

You don’t know why, but that answer lingers in your mind.

She turns the book in her hands, then looks at you again.

"I’m Yuna, by the way."

You hesitate.

But then, for the first time in months, you say it.

You tell her your name.

And just like that, something begins.

Yuna is different.

She doesn’t demand your attention. She doesn’t try to change you.

She simply exists in your life, slowly weaving herself into the empty spaces you never realized were there.

You start seeing her more often—at the bookstore, at the café nearby, in the quiet corners of the world where you feel most at ease.

She never pushes. Never asks too many questions.

But she listens.

And somehow, that’s enough.

One evening, as you walk together under the glow of streetlights, she asks, "Have you ever been in love?"

You stiffen. The memories of Yeji, Giselle, Julie—all of them flood back at once.

You exhale. "I thought I was."

She doesn’t say anything right away. She just walks beside you, her presence steady, unshaken.

Then, after a moment, she murmurs, "It must’ve hurt a lot."

You stop in your tracks.

Because no one—not Yeji, not Giselle, not Julie—ever acknowledged your pain like that.

Your chest tightens. "Yeah," you admit quietly. "It did."

Yuna doesn’t pry. She doesn’t ask for details.

She simply reaches out, her fingers brushing against yours in the most delicate way.

You don’t pull away.

And maybe—just maybe—you start to wonder.

Could love be something else?

Could love, for once, not destroy you?

But love has never been kind to you.

And just when you think you’re ready to move on, the past comes knocking.

Because one day, you receive a message.

From Yeji.

From Giselle.

From Julie.

They miss you.

And suddenly, everything you’ve tried to bury comes rushing back.

Ghosts of the Past

You think you’ve finally moved on.

Yuna is here. She’s warm, kind, and unlike anyone you’ve ever been with.

She doesn’t lie to you like Yeji.

She doesn’t hurt you like Giselle.

She doesn’t betray you like Julie.

With Yuna, love feels different. Safer. Real.

But love has never been kind to you.

And the past refuses to stay buried.

It starts with a message.

"I miss you."

You stare at the screen, your heart tightening.

Yeji’s name glows on your phone, the same name that once made your chest ache with love.

Now, all it brings is pain.

You turn off your phone. You don’t respond.

But the past isn’t done with you yet.

Because the next day, Giselle calls.

You let it ring. You don’t pick up.

Then, Julie sends a message.

"Hey. Can we talk?"

You delete it without reading the rest.

But no matter how much you ignore them, they don’t stop.

The texts become more frequent.

The calls become more desperate.

And slowly, they start creeping back into your life.

At first, you think it’s just them trying to soothe their own regrets.

But then, they start interfering.

And that’s when everything starts to fall apart.

The first time it happens, you and Yuna are at a small café, sharing quiet laughter over coffee.

Then, your phone buzzes.

You glance down.

It’s Yeji.

Calling.

Again.

You let out a slow breath, ignoring it.

Yuna notices. "You okay?"

You force a smile. "Yeah. Just spam calls."

But your hands feel cold.

Because it’s not just one call.

It’s three.

One after another.

And the moment you step out of the café, Yeji’s voice fills the air.

"You’re ignoring me."

You freeze.

She’s here.

Standing across the street, arms crossed, staring at you like she has the right to be angry.

You don’t know what to say.

"You think you can just block me out?" she continues, stepping closer. "After everything we had?"

Yuna glances between you both, her brows furrowing. "Who is she?"

Yeji smirks, her eyes flickering toward Yuna. "So this is why you’ve been ignoring me."

Your stomach twists. "Yeji, don’t—"

"Did you tell her about us?" Yeji interrupts, her voice dripping with something dangerous. "Did you tell her how much you used to love me?"

You clench your jaw. "We’re done. You need to leave."

Yeji laughs—soft, bitter. "You say that, but I know you still think about me."

She takes another step forward, lowering her voice.

"You used to be mine," she whispers. "And you will be again."

Then, she turns and walks away.

Leaving you standing there, heart pounding.

Yuna touches your arm. "What was that about?"

You force yourself to breathe. "Nothing."

But it’s not nothing.

Because Yeji isn’t the only one who won’t let go.

And soon, things get worse.

It’s Giselle next.

She doesn’t just send messages.

She shows up.

At your work. At your apartment.

Always finding an excuse to see you, to talk to you.

And every time, she asks the same thing.

"Do you ever think about me?"

You want to say no.

You want to erase every painful memory of her.

But Giselle has always known how to push your buttons.

"You were my everything," she whispers one night, standing in front of your door. "I know I made mistakes. But you… you were different."

You grip the doorframe. "Giselle, go home."

She shakes her head, eyes glistening. "I don’t have a home without you."

You swallow hard.

And that’s when you realize—she doesn’t just want you back.

She wants to ruin you.

And the moment she realizes she can’t, she tries something worse.

She finds Yuna.

She talks to her.

She tells her things—half-truths, twisted stories.

And one day, Yuna asks, "Did she really hurt you that badly?"

Your stomach drops.

Because you know exactly where this is coming from.

You reach for her hand. "Yuna, don’t listen to them."

She bites her lip. "I trust you. But I don’t trust them."

And you know—Giselle won’t stop.

Because if she can’t have you, she’ll make sure no one else does.

But the worst is Julie.

Because Julie doesn’t just want to win.

She wants to make you suffer.

One night, she sends you a message.

"Come see me. Just once."

You don’t reply.

Then another text comes.

"I won’t stop until you do."

You sigh, running a hand through your hair.

Maybe if you go, she’ll stop. Maybe she’ll finally let go.

So, against your better judgment, you go.

You find her in a high-end bar, swirling a glass of wine in her hand.

She looks up, smiling like she’s already won.

"I knew you’d come," she murmurs.

You sit across from her, exhaling sharply. "What do you want?"

She leans forward, her perfume familiar and suffocating.

"Are you happy?" she asks.

You frown. "What?"

"With her," Julie says smoothly. "With Yuna."

You glare. "Yes."

She tilts her head. "That’s a shame."

Something about her tone makes your skin crawl.

Then, she smirks. "Because I don’t think she’ll be around for long."

A chill runs down your spine. "What did you do?"

Julie sips her wine. "Nothing. Yet."

You push your chair back, standing. "Stay away from her."

Julie just laughs. "You should know by now, baby. I don’t like losing."

You leave without another word.

But dread settles in your stomach.

Because you know this isn’t over.

Not even close.

And the worst part?

You don’t know if Yuna will stay by your side when the storm hits.

Trapped in the Past.

You’ve been trying to move on.

You tell yourself that Yuna is different. That she’s the one good thing in your life. That your past no longer has control over you.

But the past has other plans.

And today, it comes crashing back—harder than ever.

It’s just another day at work.

Your office is quiet, the usual hum of keyboards and murmured conversations filling the space. You’re buried in your work, trying to focus, when you hear it—

Gasps. Whispered voices. A sudden shift in the atmosphere.

You glance up, confused.

And then, you see them.

Yeji.

Giselle.

Julie.

Standing at the entrance of your office, looking like they walked straight out of a dream��or, in your case, a nightmare.

Your heart stops.

They shouldn’t be here. They can’t be here.

But they are.

And they look even more breathtaking than you remember.

Yeji stands tall, her confidence radiating through the room, a small smirk playing on her lips. She wears a fitted blazer over a sleek black dress, her hair pulled back in a way that makes her look both elegant and untouchable.

Giselle, on the other hand, is effortlessly stunning, dressed in a casual yet expensive-looking ensemble—like she just threw something on and still managed to turn heads. She’s scanning the room, her eyes sharp, predatory.

Julie, as expected, looks perfect. A designer outfit, flawless makeup, an aura of quiet dominance. She’s not here to plead. She’s here to claim.

The entire office is watching, mesmerized.

Because how often do three goddesses show up unannounced, asking for the same man?

And then it happens.

"Where’s Y/n?" Yeji asks, loud enough for everyone to hear.

You freeze.

Your coworkers look around, confused. Some exchange glances before one of them hesitantly points in your direction.

And just like that, the three of them turn to you.

And they grin.

Because Yuna isn’t here.

Because this is their chance.

Because they know—deep down, they still have power over you.

And they plan to use it.

Before you can react, they’re walking toward you.

Your heart pounds as they reach your desk, their presence overwhelming.

"Y/n," Yeji purrs, leaning against your desk like she belongs there. "You’ve been ignoring us."

Giselle tilts her head, feigning innocence. "That’s not very nice, you know. We just wanted to see you."

Julie sighs, a soft, disappointed sound. "You really thought we’d just let you go?"

You swallow hard. "You shouldn’t be here."

Yeji raises an eyebrow. "Oh? Why not?"

You glance around. Your coworkers are still watching, whispering amongst themselves.

You grit your teeth. "Because I don’t want to see you."

Giselle laughs. "Liar."

Julie smirks. "If that were true, why do you look so nervous?"

Because they know what they’re doing.

They know exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you uncomfortable.

And worst of all…

They’re winning.

Because a part of you—no matter how small—remembers.

Remembers Yeji’s strength. The way she used to make you feel safe, like nothing in the world could touch you.

Remembers Giselle’s charm. The way she made you feel special, like you were the only one who mattered.

Remembers Julie’s care. The way she spoiled you, made you feel like you were worth something.

And now, they’re standing in front of you, looking more beautiful than ever, acting like they still care.

And Yuna isn’t here.

Yeji leans in, her voice low. "Let’s go somewhere private."

Giselle rests a hand on your shoulder, her nails lightly scraping your skin. "Just for a little bit."

Julie exhales softly, her perfume intoxicating. "Come on, Y/n. Don’t make us beg."

Your hands tighten into fists.

Because this is exactly how it starts.

How you get pulled back in.

How you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, they’ve changed.

But you know better now.

You have to know better.

You step back. "No."

Yeji’s eyes darken. "Excuse me?"

You exhale sharply. "I said no."

Giselle blinks, her smile faltering. "You’re joking, right?"

Julie’s expression turns cold. "You’re really going to push us away like this?"

You nod. "I’ve moved on."

Yeji scoffs. "With that girl? Yuna?"

You clench your jaw. "Yes."

There’s a long pause.

And then, Giselle laughs.

A slow, mocking laugh.

"Oh, Y/n," she murmurs. "You really think she’s better than us?"

Julie tilts her head. "You think she can love you like we did?"

Yeji crosses her arms. "Do you really believe she’ll stay?"

Something in their words sends a chill down your spine.

Because you know what they’re implying.

Yuna doesn’t play games like they do.

Yuna isn’t manipulative.

Yuna isn’t them.

And that’s exactly why they want to destroy her.

Before you can respond, Yeji steps closer, her voice a whisper.

"If you’re not ours," she murmurs, "then you’re not hers either."

Your blood runs cold.

Because now, this isn’t just about you.

It’s about Yuna.

And you know—this war isn’t over.

It’s only just beginning.

The fluorescent lights of the office buzzed softly, a faint hum that matched the rhythm of my typing. My eyes flicked to the clock on the wall—5:47 PM. Just a little longer, and I could head home. Home, where Yuna would be waiting. The thought of her brought a small smile to my lips. Yuna, unlike the others, was different. She was kind, patient, and she listened. She didn’t play games, didn’t twist words, didn’t leave me second-guessing every interaction. She was… healing.

But that healing was fragile. Like a wound that had just begun to scab over, it could be ripped open with the slightest touch. And the last people I wanted touching it were them.

The soft ding of the elevator down the hall made my fingers pause mid-sentence. I glanced up, my heart skipping a beat as three familiar figures stepped out. Yeji, Giselle, and Julie.

Their heels clicked against the polished floor, a synchronized rhythm that felt like a drumroll before disaster. They were dressed to kill—Yeji in a form-fitting red blazer, Giselle in a sleek black dress, and Julie in a skirt that was far too short for the office setting. Each of them wore a smirk, their eyes locking onto me like predators circling prey.

“Well, well, look who’s still working late,” Yeji purred, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “What are you three doing here?”

“Can’t we visit an old friend?” Giselle chimed in, her lips curving into a sly smile. She leaned against my desk, her perfume—a mix of vanilla and something far too intoxicating—washing over me.

“Friend?” I muttered, my voice low. “Is that what we are now?”

Julie chuckled, the sound grating against my ears. “Come on, don’t be like that. We missed you.”

Missed me. The words hit like a punch to the gut. Not because they were true—I knew better than to believe that—but because they were a reminder of all the times I’d fallen for their lies. All the times I’d let them hurt me, let them twist me into something I barely recognized.

“You don’t get to just show up here,” I said, my voice firmer now. “Not after everything.”

Yeji tilted her head, her smirk never wavering. “Everything? Oh, sweetheart, you act like we ruined you. If anything, we made you stronger.”

“Stronger?” I echoed, my voice rising. “You manipulated me. Toyed with me. Made me feel like I was nothing. That’s not strength. That’s just… cruelty.”

Giselle clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “You always were so dramatic.”

“Seriously,” Julie added, her tone dripping with mockery. “We were just having fun. If you couldn’t handle it, that’s on you.”

My hands balled into fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. Fun. That’s what they called it. Playing with my emotions, stringing me along, making me feel like I was losing my mind. Fun.

“Get out,” I said through gritted teeth.

Yeji’s smirk widened, and she stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor. “Make us.”

The air between us grew thick, heavy with tension. My chest tightened, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I could smell her perfume, a mix of roses and something darker, something that made my head spin.

“You’re not the same without us, you know,” Giselle murmured, her voice soft, almost… gentle. “You’re boring. Safe. Is that what she wants? Someone safe?”

Julie laughed, the sound sharp and cutting. “Please. He was never boring with us.”

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog that was settling over my thoughts. “You don’t get to do this. Not anymore.”

“Do what?” Yeji asked, her voice a low purr. “Remind you of what you’re missing?”

She was close now, so close I could feel the heat radiating off her body. Her hand reached up, her fingers brushing against my cheek. I flinched, but I didn’t pull away. Why didn’t I pull away?

“You remember, don’t you?” she whispered, her breath warm against my ear. “The way it felt when we were together.”

My heart raced, my mind a jumble of conflicting emotions. Yes, I remember. I remembered the highs, the moments of bliss that made everything else fade away. But I also remembered the lows, the crushing weight of their words, the way they tore me apart piece by piece.

“We could have that again,” Giselle said, her voice a sultry whisper. “All of us. Just like old times.”

Julie stepped forward, her hand resting on my chest. “You know you want it.”

I did. God, I did. But I also wanted to be free, to move on, to finally be happy. And yet… here they were, pulling me back into their orbit, their gravity impossible to resist.

“Just one more night,” Yeji murmured, her lips brushing against my neck. “One more chance to make it right.”

I closed my eyes, my body trembling. One more night. It would be so easy to give in, to let myself fall back into their arms, their beds. But at what cost?

“I…” I started, my voice trembling. “I can’t.”

Yeji pulled back, her eyes narrowing. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

“It’s not the same,” I said, my voice firmer now. “I’m not the same.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Giselle laughed, the sound cold and dismissive. “You’re right. You’re not the same. You’re worse.”

Julie smirked, her hand trailing down my chest. “But maybe we can fix that.”

I shoved her hand away, my patience snapping. “I’m not something you can fix. I’m not a project, or a game, or… or…”

“A toy?” Yeji finished, her smirk returning. “Because that’s exactly what you were. And you loved it.”

“I didn’t,” I snapped, my voice rising. “I hated it. I hated you.”

“Liar,” Giselle said, her voice sharp. “You loved every second of it.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I loved the idea of you. The fantasy. But the reality… the reality was hell.”

Yeji stepped back, her smirk fading. For a moment, she looked almost… hurt. “You’re really going to throw it all away? Everything we had?”

“We didn’t have anything,” I said, my voice steady now. “It was all in my head. And I’m done pretending otherwise.”

There was a long pause, the air heavy with unspoken words. Then Julie sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine. Be a bore. But don’t come crawling back when you realize you’re not cut out for… normal.”

They turned, their heels clicking against the floor as they walked away. I watched them go, my heart pounding in my chest. It wasn’t until the elevator doors closed behind them that I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.

But even as the tension left my body, the ache in my chest remained. Just one more night. The words echoed in my mind, taunting me. Because as much as I hated to admit it, part of me still wanted them. Still needed them.

And that scared me more than anything.

The office was quiet, the hum of fluorescent lights the only sound as I tried to focus on the report in front of me. But my mind kept drifting back to the encounter earlier. Yeji, Giselle, Julie—their faces, their words, the way they’d looked at me like I was still theirs. I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away. They’re gone. They’re not a part of your life anymore.

But just as I was about to dive back into work, my phone buzzed. A text from Yeji: “Come outside. We’re waiting.”

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. No. Not again. I ignored it, setting the phone face down on the desk. But then it buzzed again. And again. And again. Finally, I picked it up, my fingers trembling slightly as I read the next message: “Don’t make us come back up there. You know how much we love a scene.”

I cursed under my breath, dragging a hand over my face. Why can’t they just leave me alone? But deep down, I knew they wouldn’t. Not until they got what they wanted.

Reluctantly, I grabbed my coat and headed for the elevator. The ride down felt like an eternity, my stomach twisting into knots. When the doors slid open, I saw them—Yeji leaning casually against the wall, Giselle scrolling through her phone, Julie with her arms crossed, a smirk on her lips.

“There he is,” Yeji purred, pushing off the wall and walking toward me. “We were starting to think you’d forgotten about us.”

“I haven’t,” I said, my voice firm. “But I’m not doing this. Not again.”

Julie laughed, a sharp, mocking sound. “Oh, come on. You’re not fooling anyone. We know you still want us.” She stepped closer, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You always have.”

“I’ve moved on,” I said, though the words felt hollow even as I said them. “I’m with Yuna now.”

“Yuna,” Giselle scoffed, finally looking up from her phone. “She’s sweet, yeah, but let’s be real—she’s not us.”

“She’s better than you,” I shot back, my frustration boiling over. “She actually cares about me. She respects me.”

Yeji tilted her head, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Respect is overrated. What you need is someone who knows how to make you feel alive. And that’s us.”

Before I could respond, Julie grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “Enough talking. Let’s go.”

I tried to pull away, but they were already surrounding me, their presence overwhelming. They led me to a car parked just outside the building, and before I knew it, I was in the backseat, the three of them closing in around me.

The drive to their apartment was a blur, my mind racing as I tried to figure out how to get out of this. But every time I thought about making a move, one of them would touch me—a hand on my thigh, fingers brushing against my neck—and I’d feel that familiar pull, that dangerous allure that I’d spent so long trying to escape.

When we arrived, they practically dragged me inside the apartment, the door slamming shut behind us. Yeji was the first to make her move, pressing me against the wall and kissing me hard, her lips demanding and possessive. I wanted to push her away, to tell her to stop, but my body betrayed me, responding to her touch before I could think.

Giselle was next, her hands sliding under my shirt as she undressed me with practiced ease. Julie watched from a distance, a wicked grin on her face as she pulled out her phone.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice strained as Yeji moved her lips to my neck.

Julie didn’t answer, instead holding up her phone to show me the screen. She was calling Yuna. Panic surged through me, and I tried to pull away, but Yeji and Giselle held me in place, their hands roaming over my body.

“You wouldn’t,” I said, my voice pleading.

“Oh, I would,” Julie said, her grin widening as the call connected. She put it on speaker, and I heard Yuna’s voice, soft and confused, on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Yuna,” Julie said, her tone sickly sweet. “Just wanted to let you know—your boyfriend’s here with us. And he’s very happy to see us.”

“No,” I said, my voice breaking. “Yuna, it’s not what you think—”

But Yeji cut me off, her lips crashing into mine again as Giselle pulled down my pants. I could hear Yuna on the other end of the line, her voice trembling as she asked, “What’s going on? What are you doing to him?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Julie said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “We’re just giving him what he’s always wanted. What he’s always needed. Isn’t that right, baby?”

I wanted to deny it, to tell Yuna the truth, but the words caught in my throat as Giselle dropped to her knees, taking me into her mouth. I groaned, my body betraying me once again as pleasure surged through me.

Yeji pulled back, her lips curving into a wicked smile as she whispered in my ear, “He’s always wanted us. Not you.”

“Don’t listen to her, Yuna,” I managed to say, my voice strained. “Please—”

But Julie cut me off, holding the phone closer as Giselle worked her magic, driving me closer and closer to the edge. I could hear Yuna’s sobs on the other end of the line, and guilt crashed over me like a wave. But even as I tried to fight it, I knew I was losing.

“You’ll never be enough for him,” Yeji said, her voice cold and cruel. “Not like we are.”

And then, as Giselle brought me to the brink, I heard Yuna hang up, the line going dead. I wanted to scream, to break free, but my body was too far gone, too lost in the sensations they were pulling from me.

Yeji laughed, a low, wicked sound, as she undressed, her eyes locked on mine. “Face it, baby. You’re ours. You always have been.”

And as they took turns with me, their hands and mouths claiming me in ways I could never forget, I knew she was right. No matter how much I tried to convince myself I’d moved on, I was still theirs. And I always would be.

Julie’s phone buzzed again, and she picked it up, her grin widening as she read the message. “Looks like your little Yuna isn’t taking this well,” she said, holding it up for me to see. It was a text from Yuna: “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

My heart sank, but before I could respond, Giselle was on me again, her lips trailing down my chest as Yeji whispered in my ear, “See? We told you. You’re ours.”

And as they took me again, their bodies moving in sync with mine, I knew there was no escaping them. Not now. Not ever.

The room was a blur of sweat, heat, and tangled limbs. Yeji’s nails dug into my shoulders as she rode me, her hips grinding in slow, deliberate circles that sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. Her breath was hot against my ear, her voice low and sultry. “You’re ours,” she whispered, her words dripping with possessiveness. “You always have been. You always will be.”

Giselle’s laughter rang out as she kissed me, her lips soft but demanding. Her hands roamed my chest, tracing lines of fire across my skin. She pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, her gaze intense. “You thought you could escape us?” she taunted, her voice teasing. “You’re too weak, too addicted to the way we make you feel. Admit it... you’ve missed this.”

I wanted to deny it, to push them away and reclaim some shred of dignity, but my body betrayed me. My hips moved of their own accord, thrusting deeper into Yeji as she moaned in approval. My hands reached for Giselle, pulling her closer, my fingers tangling in her hair as our lips crashed together. And then there was Julie, her tongue tracing a wet path down my neck, her hands gripping my thighs as she positioned herself to take her turn.

“You’re pathetic,” Julie purred, her voice a mix of cruelty and seduction. “But we love you anyway. Isn’t that enough?” She didn’t wait for an answer, instead straddling me and sinking down onto me with a gasp. Her movements were frenzied, desperate, as if she couldn’t get enough. I couldn’t help but respond, my hands gripping her hips as I thrust up to meet her.

The room filled with the sound of their moans, their laughter, their whispers. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and I felt myself slipping further and further into their web. “You’re ours,” Yeji repeated, her voice a sultry chant. “Say it. Say you’re ours.”

I tried to resist, to hold onto some fragment of myself, but the words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I’m yours,” I gasped, my voice choked with need. “I’m yours.”

The trio exchanged triumphant smiles, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Good boy,” Giselle cooed, her fingers trailing down my chest. “Now let’s remind you why you belong to us.”

They took turns, their bodies moving over mine in a rhythm that felt both familiar and new. Yeji’s lips claimed mine, her kisses deep and hungry, while Giselle’s hands explored every inch of me, igniting fires wherever she touched. Julie’s voice whispered in my ear, her words a mix of encouragement and command, urging me to give in completely.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the sound of our bodies slapping together echoing in the room. My mind was a haze of pleasure and pain, desire and despair. I wanted to hate them, to push them away and reclaim my life, but my body craved them in a way I couldn’t deny.

“You’re ours,” Yeji whispered again, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos. “And we’ll never let you go.”

As if to emphasize her words, she leaned down, her lips brushing against mine in a kiss that was both tender and possessive. Giselle’s hands tightened on my hips, guiding my movements as she took her turn, her body moving in perfect sync with mine. Julie’s teeth grazed my neck, her breath hot against my skin as she moaned in pleasure.

The room seemed to spin, the boundaries between us blurring as we became a tangled mess of limbs and desires. I couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the others began. It was as if we were one, connected by something deeper than just physical need.

“You’re ours,” Giselle whispered, her voice a sultry purr. “And you always will be.”

My hands roamed their bodies, my fingers memorizing every curve, every detail. I couldn’t stop myself, couldn’t resist the pull they had on me. It was as if they had cast a spell, one that I was powerless to break.

“You’re ours,” Julie repeated, her voice a tantalizing whisper. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” I gasped, my voice trembling with need. “I’m yours.”

The words seemed to ignite something in them, their movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. Yeji’s nails dug into my skin, leaving marks that would serve as a reminder of this moment. Giselle’s hips moved with a furious pace, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Julie’s lips claimed mine, her kiss fierce and demanding.

The pleasure built, a crescendo that threatened to consume me. I could feel myself teetering on the edge, my body trembling with the effort to hold on. And then, with a shuddering gasp, I let go, surrendering completely to the sensations that crashed over me.

They didn’t let up, didn’t give me a moment to catch my breath. Instead, they continued, their bodies moving over mine in a relentless rhythm that left me gasping for air. It was as if they were determined to claim every part of me, to leave no doubt in my mind that I belonged to them.

“You’re ours,” Yeji whispered, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos. “And we’ll never let you go.”

The words echoed in my mind, a mantra that I couldn’t escape. I wanted to believe them, to believe that this was where I belonged, but a small part of me still fought, still clung to the hope of something more.

But as their bodies moved over mine, their hands and mouths claiming me in ways I could never forget, that hope began to fade, replaced by the certainty that I would never escape them. Not now. Not ever.

“You’re ours,” Giselle whispered, her voice a sultry purr. “And you always will be.”

The room was a blur of heat and desire, the boundaries between us blurring as we became one. I couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the others began. It was as if we were connected by something deeper than just physical need.

“You’re ours,” Julie whispered, her voice a tantalizing whisper. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” I gasped, my voice trembling with need. “I’m yours.”

The pleasure built again, a crescendo that threatened to consume me. I could feel myself teetering on the edge, my body trembling with the effort to hold on. And then, with a shuddering gasp, I let go, surrendering completely to the sensations that crashed over me.

“You’re ours,” Yeji whispered, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos. “And we’ll never let you go.”

#Spotify #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #kpop smut #aespa #itzy #kiof #kiss of life #aespa giselle #itzy yeji #kiof julie #toxic #ex girlfriend #exes #kiss #romance

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baambied · 13 days ago

Text

𝑹 𝑼 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑬?

𝒆𝒙 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

cw possessive!sevika cursing yearning

protective!sevika makeout session

ex!sevika × fem!reader

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who let's out an audible scoff whenever she hears your name mentioned, making it seem as if she totally isn't affected by breakup between you two but in reality she's listening intently and completely focused on whatever the person is saying about you.

"it's whatever - you can talk about her doesn't bother me. ."

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who, despite all the disagreements , arguments, and the whole relationship ending, she still cares so deeply for you , she knows her love for you would and will never fade even if thousands of years go by you'll always be on her mind.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who hates when you still come to the same bar she introduced you to, seeing you sitting at the bar with your friends instead of you sipping on a beer while on her lap as she plays a game of cards.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who swiftly follows you out the door of the bar to walk you home - well walking a few feet behind you as you make your way home without you noticing - making sure you dont get hurt by anyone.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who still pays for your drinks at the bar without you knowing, going up to the bartender and asking them to put whatever you order on her tab.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who's glare you can feel from a mile away when some random person comes up to you offering to buy you a drink.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who goes up to the guy while their coming out of the bathroom and threatens them to never step a single foot near you again or she'd made sure they will never be able to step foot in the bar as long as they live.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who still has all those little cute love notes you wrote her during the relationship, and small items you've given her during that time. . . she keeps them in a box in her closet, not daring to threw anything so precious away.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who still 'anonymously' send you flowers every valentines day since the day you two split up. . she sends you your favorite type of flowers because she remembers you mention the name a few times during the relationship.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who can't help but smile when she's still the person you count on for certain things. You who are not that proud of this, but anytime you are in trouble or need help, sevika is the one you immediately call because even though you two broke up - you know you're still able to trust her - some man keeps bothering you anytime you're on the way to work so you call sevika about it and next thing you know you never have to see that man's face again.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who isn't the type to immediately talk or flirt with other women after a break up ? You were the only woman who was able to make to turn her head so far to the point her brain started thinking about marriage - there was just no way another woman could have the same affect you had on her . . . nor would she allow another woman to even get close to her.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who still has the pretty lingerie set you surprised her with on her birthday. . . It was around the beginning of your relationship, so she still remembers the shy expression on your face as you lay in the middle of her bed.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who keeps all the recipes of the sweet deserts you used to make her, she attempts to replicate them, but every time she does, she's meant with utter disappointment as the food doesn't taste like yours.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who still has a picture of you in her wallet , and a little note you wrote her once when she went to work angry, you didn't know how to make her feel better so instead you left a short note in her wallet for her find later in the day.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who threatens (or even lays a few punches on) any man who talks bad or suggestive about you - even when asked who is she to you the woman can't help but say "don't speak about my girlfriend that way" and when you find out and confront her about it youre not even suprise when she just gives you a look and says "would you rather those fools make moves on you? i just said that to get them off your ass.. don't take it personally. "

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who notices one time at the bar, a man got way too close for your own comfort , and sevika - being able to read you like an open book could tell by the expression on your face you were very uncomfortable with the lingering attention from the man. . .and the next thing you know was the man being knocked out cold onto the ground.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who let's you shout at her for punching the guy and causing a scene when you could have taken care of it yourself - and in response to your yelling sevika just stares at you in silence . . her mind just thinking about how you look like a real-life beautiful angel standing in front of her.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who still has the bracelet that is the color of your eyes around her wrist, it was something you and her did months ago - you having a pretty bracelet with gray pearls on it while she has a bracelet with pearls the same color of your eyes.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who gets incredibly annoyed when she can't find a lighter to spark up her cigar, she soon gets even more annoyed when she realizes your the one who usually carries a lighter so you could spark it.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 --who can still smell the scent of your gentle vanilla scented shampoo on one of her pillows from when you used to sleep over her house.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who walks you home after you had one too many drinks , stumbling over your own feet as her mechanical arm was secured around your waist , slurring out incoherent words to her as the two of you walked down the street. . . sevika couldn't help the small smirked that pulled at her lips.

"i - d-dont need *hiccup* -you!" Your sentence coming out slurred as it meant sevika's ears.

"Oh really now?" The broad woman responded back with a shit eating grin, she was amused at this situation - and a little surprised because you weren't one to drink until you couldn't even walk straight so this was new.

"no! I'm fine-"

"shh shh shh doll, let's get you home. ."

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who ends up taking you to her house instead since you were to out of it to find your keyys , she let's you take her bed . . tucking you in her dark red covers , while she slept in the small couch in her living room along with the pillow that still had the scent of your gentle vanilla shampoo.

𝒆𝒙!𝒈𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 -- who wakes up early to fix up some breakfast for you, making some eggs and cutting up your favorite fruits to have on the side . . . and making sure there was water and pain reliever on the side for you to take.

sevika ears perk up when she hears the soft padded of your feet under on the floor. She could tell you were making your way to the kitchen.

you walk in the kitchen, eyes immediately finding sevika who was by the sink placing a frying pan inside - the smell of fried eggs hitting your nose as you stepped in further.

"what am i doing here? sevika-"

"There's pain reliever on the table beside you."

you open your mouth to say something - anything but sevika was right, your head was hurting like a bitch. . . and it wasn't common for you to drink to the point you had a bad hangover the morning after, and you knew sevika was aware of this, making you feel slightly embarrassed and you felt slightly uncomfortable as you were still in your clothes from last night.

you grab the pills in your palm, bringing them to your lips and swallowing them dry, this quick action made you go into a small coughing fit.

"Jesus- there was water right here.." sevika softly grumbled under her breath as she grabbed the glass of water and brought it towards you , bringing it to your lips - gulping down the water humming at the feeling of the room temperature water hit your dry throat.

during this, your eyes couldn't help but flicker up to sevika's. . almost immediately, you felt a warmth wash over your body - butterflies annoyingly flapping their wings around the pit of the stomach. . old sparks from when you two were together reignited, and the warming - loving look in sevika's gaze made your knees buckle.

it seemed sevika felt the same, both your heart pounding in usion , sevika couldn't look away from your eyes - almost mesmerized by the depth in them. . . studying you almost.

both of your eyes staring into each other , filled with so much emotion - holding so much emotion all at once . . you both wanted nothing more than to let those emotions out.

next thing you know, sevika's lips are on yours, the abandoned glass cup of water now on the ground shattered into pieces , causing sevika to swiftly move her arm under your legs carrying you up and placing you on the counter , your body squirmed as you felt her hands on your waist - still in your cute miniskirt from last night you could feel it riding up by the fast movement.

the kiss was uncoordinated , sloppy even . . driven by pure urgency and desire - a sense of need and longing as if the two of you were waiting for this exact moment. Your fingers making it seem way into sevika dark hair, tugging is softly as you leaned more into her.

"missed you so much. ." sevika states , her sentence coming out more like a growl as her lips made its way away from your now swollen lips and to your neck - you felt flutters in stomach at her words because. . . you missed her too , a part of you is genuinely shocked that you went on for a few months without her by your side.

"i - i could have taken care of - myself last night. ." Your words fumbling with a mix of whines at the feeling of sevika's teeth gently biting your flesh on your neck , "okay. ." sevika responds with a single word to your statement.

"and. . you didn't have to punch that guy , i could have hand- handled that. ."

"okay. . okay baby , i know. ."

silence took over the kitchen, just the sounds of sevika sucking on your skin and the sounds of your breathy soft moans floating in the air , and you can't say that you're shocked that you're making out with sevika - aka your ex girlfriend while sitting on her counter. . . because somehow a part of you always knew the two of you would find your way in this predicament somehow, it was almost like everywhere you went sevika was in the same room - coincidence or not . . it was like you two were destined together , like a magnet pulling at one another.

and here as you sat in her arms, hands in her hair while her lips worked on your neck. . . you couldn't help but feel like this was all supposed to happen and honestly you wouldn't want it any other way

you were her's , and she was yours.

reader crazy for breaking up with sevika in the first place smh 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

#sevika headcanon #sevika x f!reader #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #arcane smut #arcane sevika #sevika x female reader #sevika x fem reader #sevika x fem!reader #sevika #sevika headcannons #ex girlfriend sevika #sevika x you #sevika x oc

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yuwuta · 8 months ago

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JJK OLYMPICS OHHH YOURE A GENIUS

head spinning w sooooooo many athlete aus rn…..

satoru honestly isn’t half as cocky as the media makes him out to be but he could be because you bring up world champion men’s freestyle swim times and it’s his name on the scoreboard ten times before someone else shows up. he’s faster than himself by fifteen seconds all around, he’s earned a bit of cockiness. mentioned in the last post that whenever he’s at a competition and he finishes a race, he looks at the camera and signs a little infinity sign and then blows a kiss to you. some bitter old coach always calls him out on it, and gets him fined for unsportsmanlike conduct, and he’s happy to pay the fees if it means getting a message home to you, but eventually you two come up with a new code; and at his next race, he places gold, turns to the camera, crosses his middle finger over his pointer finger and smiles. when he’s in his post-race interview, he makes sure to explain that he does it for you with the widest smile on his face.

megumi nepotism baby but not in the same sport. toji was a multi gold medalist back in his heyday for shooting, so it’s not really a surprise to anybody that megumi has scary good aim, but he takes to archery instead of shooting. actually the idea of megumi being an emo little kid and throwing rocks at a tree when his dad pissed him off his hilarious, and even funnier is toji watching him, slightly amused and a little scared because megumi is maybe six and hitting the exact same spot every single time. he grows to be very blase about it—it’s more of a release/hobby for him that he happens to be really good at, and well, now good enough to earn a few olympic medals. megumi is not a fan of having his dad ruffle his hair on international television after he’s won, but he supposes it can’t be helped.

i don’t know where to put yuuta…. tennis…. tempting….. him in his little white shorts…. little grunts after he serves…. cries….. a complete 180 in his personality when he’s playing vs doing anything else. so charming and sweet and kinda shy when he’s being interviewed, and the second he steps on the court his eyes are so cold it’s scary…. need him… extremely nerdy about his rackets, and shoes, and clothes, and rambles to you about aerodynamics and posture and torque whenever you ask him to teach you, and you always have to shutup him up with a kiss and remind him that yeah you sort of want to learn to play tennis for him, but mostly you came bc he looks hot doing it. once he got asked in an interview if he ever thinks about you while he’s playing and his response was very concise, “no, never. it would be a big distraction,” and did not realize the implications of his heavily televised words.

also…. not to make this post 40% yuuta but we could pull from canon a bit and make his sport fencing. he doesn’t excel because he’s the strongest, it’s because he’s learned to treat the sword as an extension of himself and a good strategist… also because i like the image of him pulling the helmet/mask off and shaking his hair out………..

don’t even know where to put yuuji…. volleyball? basketball? track and field??? the irony of him easily being the most athletic but canonically does not want to play sports 😭 but i can see him playing a sport because someone scouts him and it turns out to be a way to make steady money to support himself and his grandpa :( by the time he’s qualified and made it to the olympics, wasuke is doing much better (thanks to yuuji having landed some preemptive sponsorships and being able to afford better medical care), but not so well enough that he can travel across the world to watch yuuji play. wasuke tells you that you should travel and be with yuuji, but yuuji is so touched by the idea that you would stay with his grandpa and be by his side when he’s away :(( he wins gold, of course, and he doesn’t even wait until the closing ceremony—which, he’d mentioned in all of his interviews, so nobody can be too upset. he’s on record saying, “i’m excited to play, but i’m even happier to be going home. my girlfriend and my grandpa are watching me and i miss them!” several times— he’s on the first flight home with flowers, and tears in his eyes. puts his gold medal on his grandpa’s neck as a thank you, and spends probably thirty minutes straight hugging you and kissing you and honestly don’t put it past him to propose now that he’s got nike ambassador money

nanami started judo as a way to relieve the stress of his overbearing job, and someone at the gym/training center notices he seems to be a natural despite being a beginner. he starts to draw a crowd, which annoys him at first because the point of judo was discipline and release from having to deal with too many people at his office job, but nanami supposes he can’t be too mad when you introduce yourself as a talent scout and offer him professional training. there’s irony in him accepting your offer, because it was definitely not based in professionalism at all… quitting his job as a salaryman to become a professional athlete in his mid-twenties was not on his bingo chart, but if it means he will have met you, then so be it. you’re with him all the way, through his training, competitions, world championships, qualifiers, all the way until he’s on the podium. you’re the first to congratulate him, but he interjects by telling you he’s quitting. you ask him why—he just won at the olympics for crying out loud, but nanami just shakes his head, puts down his flowers and his medal so his hands are free to hold your face and tell you, “it would be unethical to kiss my manager, so i am quitting.” (later, when everything is said and done, and you two are cuddling, you mention to him that he could just hire a new manager, and not quit his new career, to which he blushes because yeah… that’s probably more rational, but rational was not in his train of thought at the time)

#anonymous #nanami kento.......................................... god #also yuuji :((((( just a kid who wanted to do something nice for his grandpa I will CRY #immediate proposal when he gets home to you who does he think he is? yuuta?#speaking of yuuta he's like the best player his age and he's always asked to attend events or parties or whatever #and he's always like ah no thank you I am going home to my girlfriend #every fucking interview it's like yeah I love tennis but I love my girlfriend more for supporting and encouraging me #my girlfriend my girlfriend my girlfriend #one day he actually seems Excited to be doing his press conference and a journalist picks up on it to which yuuta happily raises his hand #and lets everyone know that he's now engaged. and very very grateful for his wife #he does the same shit a few years later like randomly during a press conference he's like #'I am kinda nervous. my baby didn't sleep well last night so I was up with him pretty late' and everyone's like BABY?#and yuutas like yeah! he's almost 14 months now do u wanna see him!#let me stop bringing kids into this bc w/ satoru and kento I could go on for hours....#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #yuuta x reader #yuuji x reader #megumi x reader #nanami kento x reader #once u asked megumi what he thinks about when he's practicing and he's so deadpan as he reloads and arrow #and right before he lets it go he's like 'ur ex boyfriend' and then hits the target dead in the center LMFAO #olympics au

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msfantasy-comics · 2 months ago

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The Ex gets Married

Bruce Wayne x Ex-Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bruce breaks up with Y/n and ends up in a tumultuous relationship with Selina. Bruce finds out about his ex-girlfriend moving on and is heartbroken.

Warning: Bruce does not have a happy ending.

Many years before, Bruce, had to make a life altering decision.

Should he follow his head or his heart?

He loved both Selina and Y/n dearly for very different reasons.

But there was no use pondering the decision further. Selina was a safe bet.

Selina, whilst fickle, was still a woman capable of handling the rough and tough life style that accompanied his alter-ego. Selina’s life parallels his own; their secret life, their deep rooted trauma, their years of personal growth together.

When considering these factors, it was indisputable, he had to follow his head, and in the end he got exactly what he asked for.

An unbridled romantic companion that was only ever present when it suited her.

Selina was never consistent in supporting Bruce. Only being present at the worst of times, and never being available to celebrate the best of times.

Selina was incapable of bonding with his sons. It’s not like she didn’t try, the boys were just utterly disinterested in bonding with a woman who seemed to sail in and out of Bruce’s life on a whim. Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian felt Selina was not going to be around long, so they always turned her down or avoided Selina when possible.

Selina was uncomfortable with the mundane. Drama followed her where ever she went. Her constant blow outs strains Bruce beyond measure.

As usual, Bruce retreats to his cold and lonely bed. It’s been weeks since he last heard from Selina. He stares at the ceiling and wonders what his life could’ve been like had he followed his heart.

You were always the first to hold Bruce and comfort him in his times of need. You were always pushing to celebrate ridiculous milestones and insisting it was important since it was an achievement.

You put in so much effort bonding with his sons. You’d spent days in Bludhaven, looking after Dick in hospital when no one else could. You drove to Jason’s favourite dive bar, drank beer with him every Friday. You attended all of Tim’s extracurricular events. You would drink tea with Damian and listen to him vent his frustrations with his teammates.

Better yet, you were always in bed waiting for him. Arms always spreading open, ready to embrace him after a difficult night out.

Bruce missed you dearly, but he knows he made the right decision. Selina was capable of protecting herself- you weren’t.

Bruce constantly reminds himself of that time Joker almost took your life as you helplessly dangled from the building. Your survival from that encounter was pure luck. If Bruce wasn’t your boyfriend, you would’ve been safe.

So, Bruce made the right decision following his head. Following his heart would’ve brought nothing but heartache.

The house seemed unusually quite. There was no noise, no movement. He hasn’t heard anything from anyone.

“Alfred, where are the boys?” The older gentlemen continues to assemble the cucumber sandwiches, pretending he didn’t hear a single word. “Alfred?” The older man sighs as he contemplates telling the truth, to honouring the lie fabricated by the boys. At last, Alfred opts for the ugly truth.

“The young masters are attending a wedding ceremony.” Alfred answers bluntly, unwilling to be the barer of bad news.

“A wedding ceremony? Who’s wedding is it?” Alfred places the plate in front of Bruce, continuing to avoid eye contact. “Alfred, answer the question.”

He sighs as he pours a glass of water. “John Constantines wedding.”

Confusion crosses Bruce as to why his sons are attending that man’s wedding. “I didn’t know he had a significant other, who is he marrying?”

Alfred looks off to the clock as Bruce waits impatiently for the long drawn out answer. The clock strikes twelve, which floods the house with a melody to notify half the day has passed. Finally, Alfred speaks. “As of 12’oclock John Constantine has married his beloved wife Y/n Constantine.”

All colour in Bruce’s face drains, his mouth goes dry and he’s not sure if his heart is beating. “Y/n… she’s married?” Alfred nods unsympathetically.

“The women you love has married someone that isn’t you.” Alfred’s words rubs salt in Bruce’s already wounded heart. “Incase you were wondering Master Bruce… Selina Kyle had introduced the two around the time you had broken up.” Bruce’s head turns to mush at the news.

It’s not like he intended to get back together with you or anything- so why is he so upset?

Of course you would move on eventually, he knew that. That’s just common sense. Why would you be single for the rest of your life?

Yet despite all common sense Bruce’s heart continues to squeeze painfully, his head thumping away as a growing migraine takes place.

The love of his life has gone on and married someone else.

God.

Is it too late to win her back?

What was he thinking ? Of course it is.

There’s no going back.

Bruce will just have to accept his decision.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #batboys x reader #batboys imagine #batman x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader #Bruce Wayne imagine #batman x you #dc comics x reader #batman imagine #ExGirlfriend!reader #cw angst #ex!reader #Bruce Wayne x Ex-girlfriend!reader #Bruce Wayne x ExGirlfriend!reader

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breathinlove · 10 months ago

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texts with messy ex!ellie short smau

read this

synopsis: you and ellie broke up for some stupid reason and are not getting back together yet.

cw: swearing, they co parent a cat, messy ex gfs in the same friend group, ellie's silly n reader is tryna be serious ab the break up (failed) crack smau fic

a/n: dont ask why they broke up bc idk, prob smt dumb as hell

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x fem reader #lover girl!ellie #ellie imagine #ellie x masc reader #ellie williams smau #ellie smau #tlou smau #ellie williams fluff #ellie fluff #ex girlfriend #gf!ellie

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jburrgf · 2 months ago

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About You IV- The Love Trope Series.

"Do you think I have forgotten about you?"

◦pairing: ¡lsu! burrow x ¡ex situashionship!reader

° summary: second change trope, college relationships, slow burn love, right person wrong time.

◦ description: It is the game day, and you and joe are back again. what the future holds for both of you? Forever or Down In Flames?

• playlist: About You - The 1975, Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Golding, Like Real People Do - Hoozier, I Bet You Think About Me - Taylor Swift, Called You Again - Lizzy McAlpine, Tolerate It, ImGonnaGetYouBack, Clean - Taylor Swift

PART FOUR: ABOUT YOU

The soft chime of a new email broke the quiet of my apartment as I sat cross-legged on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through my notes for the media project. I reached for my laptop, my curiosity piqued by the subject line:

"Peach Bowl Coverage Assignment"

I clicked the email open, scanning its contents. The words blurred together for a moment before clarity hit me like a freight train:

You have been selected to cover the Peach Bowl game this weekend, Saturday evening. This will be your primary focus. Full details and meeting schedule to follow.

My heart sank into my stomach. The Peach Bowl? This wasn’t just any game—it was the game. The stakes were high, the audience massive, and the pressure immense. And to make matters worse, the LSU Tigers were playing, which meant... Joe.

I let out a long, uneven breath and leaned back against the couch cushions. Of course, it had to be this game. I rubbed my temples, willing the knot of anxiety forming in my chest to loosen.

"Great," I muttered to myself. "This is just great."

The email included a note about a meeting scheduled for Friday morning, where the media team would go over assignments, angles, and access for the weekend. I closed my laptop with a sigh, unable to focus on anything else.

I shut down my computer, getting ready to finally leave the house. I packed everything I needed into my backpack, and minutes later, I left my apartment heading towards the LSU campus, not too far from where I lived.

The media room was buzzing when I stepped inside, the hum of conversations mingling with the faint sound of chairs scraping against the tiled floor. A slideshow projected on the front wall displayed the Peach Bowl logo in bold letters, its importance impossible to ignore. I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder, clutching my coffee cup tightly, as if it could somehow ground me.

"Saved you a seat," Maddie said as I slid into the chair beside her. Her energy was palpable, a stark contrast to the knot of dread tightening in my stomach.

"Thanks," I murmured, setting down my notebook and coffee.

“You okay?” she whispered as I slid into the seat next to her.

“Peach Bowl,” I muttered, my tone flat.

Her eyes widened in mock surprise. “What? No way. You mean you get to cover one of the biggest games of the season? Tragic.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at my lips. Leave it to Maddie to downplay my nerves.

Before I could respond, the room quieted. The director of media assignments, Professor Ellis, followed by coach Taylor, stepped to the front of the room, clipboard in hand. His voice boomed as he greeted everyone and launched into the agenda for the Peach Bowl.

I tried to focus, scribbling notes as he explained the logistics—press passes, sideline access, and post-game interviews. But my thoughts were fractured, my mind wandering to the one person I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.

And then I saw him.

Joe sat near the back of the room, his tall frame hunched slightly over the table. He was wearing a dark LSU sweatshirt, the hood pulled halfway over his head, and his usual air of quiet confidence seemed to be replaced with something else. He looked... unsettled.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen him since the night at Malone’s—that night was burned into my memory—but seeing him here, in the context of work, made it feel different. More formal. More unavoidable.

He didn’t look up, and for a moment, I thought maybe I could slip by unnoticed. But then, as if he could sense me watching him, he lifted his head.

Our eyes met.

It was like the air in the room shifted. Everything else faded into the background, and for a second, it was just us. His expression was guarded, his mouth set in a firm line, but his eyes… His eyes were all over me.

”Keep it together, Y/N," I told myself, tearing my gaze away and scribbling down notes I didn’t even need.

Joe, on the other hand, seemed unusually quiet. His usual relaxed confidence was replaced by a subtle tension, his fingers tapping against the table and his jaw clenched.

"You okay?" Maddie asked as I slid into the chair beside her, her voice low enough that no one else could hear.

"Fine," I said, though my voice betrayed me, sounding far less convincing than I intended.

Maddie gave me a knowing look but didn’t push. Instead, she nodded toward the front of the room where the media director was setting up.

"You’re not going to faint, are you?" she teased, her tone light, but her concern still evident.

"I’m fine," I repeated, more firmly this time.

Coach Taylor started to speak, outlining the importance of our assignments and the exposure this game would bring. It should have excited me—it was a dream opportunity, the kind of coverage people in my field worked years to get. But all I could think about was how I’d survive the weekend with Joe lurking in the periphery.

"Now," Professor Ellis said, drawing my attention back to the front of the room, "I want to remind everyone of the importance of professionalism during this event. You are representatives of the university’s media program, and your behavior reflects on all of us."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

As the meeting neared its end, Ellis and Taylor began handing out specific assignments for the coverage. I kept my head down, furiously jotting notes about the timeline for game day. But I could feel Joe’s eyes on me again, a quiet weight I couldn’t shake.

You’ll each have access to a key player from the team you're covering," he explained. "For LSU, Joe Burrow will be the primary focus, given his leadership role and performance this season."

I flinched at the mention of his name, my pen faltering against the paper.

"Your angles should focus on the game, the team’s journey, and what this win could mean for the program."

I stole a glance at Joe, who was now sitting straighter, his brows furrowed in concentration. He wasn’t looking at me anymore, but the tension in his shoulders was visible even from across the room.

Maddie leaned over, whispering in my ear. "You’re gonna have to deal with him eventually, you know."

I shot her a look, but she just smirked, unfazed.

When Taylor finally dismissed us, the room erupted into the sounds of chairs scraping and low chatter. Maddie nudged me again as I shoved my notebook into my bag.

Maddie nudged me as she stood. "Come on. Let’s go before you combust."

I shot her a glare, but I got up anyway, clutching my notebook like a lifeline. As we moved toward the door, I couldn’t resist glancing back.

Joe was watching me. His eyes locked on mine for just a second before he quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in whatever was in front of him.

I didn’t know what to make of it—of him—but the knot in my stomach tightened as I walked out of the room.

"You okay?" she asked, her eyes flicking toward the back of the room where Joe was still sitting.

"I am.” said quickly, though the tightness in my chest suggested otherwise.

"You sure? You look like you’re about to bolt," she said, crossing her arms and giving me a pointed look.

"I’m fine, Maddie.” I repeated, grabbing my coffee and heading toward the door before she could press further.

“You’re gonna have to talk to him eventually," she said softly, giving me a look that was equal parts concern and exasperation.

But just as I stepped into the hallway, I heard my name.

"Y/N."

My heart stuttered in my chest. I turned slowly, my grip tightening on the coffee cup. Joe was standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatshirt.

"Hey," he said, his voice quiet but steady.

"Hey," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on us. I could feel Maddie’s curious gaze from behind me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away from Joe.

"You—uh, ready for this weekend?" he asked, his words tentative.

"Yeah," I said, though it was a lie.

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Cool. See you at the game."

"See you," I murmured, and with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there with my heart pounding in my chest.

And just like that, the moment was over. I turned and walked away, my heart pounding as Maddie fell into step beside me.

"You’re going to be fine," she said, her voice firm but reassuring. "You’re tougher than this."

I wasn’t so sure.

[…]

The stadium buzzed with electricity, the kind of energy that seeped into your bones and made you feel like you were part of something bigger. The roar of the crowd was deafening, a sea of purple and gold on one side and orange and white on the other. This was it—the Peach Bowl, the biggest game I’d covered yet.

I adjusted the strap of my camera and took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous excitement thrumming through me. This wasn’t just another game—it was a defining moment for the LSU Tigers, and I was here to capture every second of it.

The LSU Tigers were set to face off against the Oklahoma Sooners, and everyone knew this wasn’t just another game. This was the Peach Bowl. A playoff game. A shot at the National Championship.

From my spot near the sidelines, I had a clear view of the field. The players were already lined up, Joe at the center of it all, his focus unshakeable. The sight of him in his purple-and-gold jersey, helmet tucked under one arm as he called out plays, made my stomach twist in a way I wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

I raised my camera, framing the shot as he stepped onto the field.

The perfect glare, I looked at my camera and saw the picture that I had taken. I Could feel his energy through the screen. I never knew if it was just me or literally every single other girl in the world, but he was so magnetic. And he did nothing to be like that.

The game started with a bang, LSU coming out strong. Joe was in his element, commanding the offense like he was born for this moment. The ball snapped, and he moved with precision, throwing a perfect pass that resulted in the first touchdown of the game.

I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face as the crowd erupted around me. Even though I was here to work, to document the game, it was impossible not to get caught up in the emotion of it all.

Raising my camera, I snapped a series of shots—Joe in mid-throw, the receiver catching the ball, the celebration that followed. The images would be sharp, full of action, but they couldn’t capture the full intensity of the moment.

A 19-yard pass to Justin Jefferson.

Touchdown.

The crowd erupted, and I couldn’t help but grin behind my camera as I snapped a shot of Jefferson celebrating in the end zone. Maddie, who was a few yards away working on her own coverage, shot me a thumbs-up before turning back to her notes.

I stayed focused, switching lenses to get tighter shots of the players as they regrouped for the next drive. Joe was commanding the huddle again, his gestures sharp and precise.

By the second quarter, LSU was dominating. Joe was unstoppable, his passes clean and precise, his movements smooth and calculated. The energy on the field mirrored the stands—wild, unrelenting, alive.

I knelt near the sideline, framing a shot of Joe as he stepped back into the pocket. His focus was laser-sharp, his eyes scanning the field before launching the ball in a perfect arc. I clicked the shutter just as the receiver dove into the end zone.

Another touchdown.

The scoreboard flashed, and I couldn’t help but cheer under my breath, my voice lost in the roar of the crowd. My camera captured the celebration on the field—Joe’s rare but brilliant smile as he high-fived his teammates, the way the entire team rallied around him.

By halftime, LSU was leading 49–14, and the media box was abuzz with murmurs of disbelief. Seven touchdowns in one half. Joe alone had thrown for nearly 400 yards. It was a performance that felt less like a game and more like a statement.

After the first part of the game, I reviewed my shots, scrolling through the images on my camera. They were good—great, even—but there was something about being here, in the middle of it all, that no photograph could truly capture.

Maddie texted me from the stands: "He’s killing it. You okay?"

I didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure how to explain the mix of pride and nostalgia and something heavier that sat in my chest every time I looked at him.

The third quarter started with a bang—another touchdown pass from Joe that sent the stadium into chaos. I barely had time to steady my camera before the celebration started, capturing the players as they piled into the end zone.

Joe scrambling out of the pocket, delivering another perfect pass. The defense shutting down Oklahoma’s attempts to close the gap.

With every touchdown, the crowd grew louder, and I found myself smiling more, caught up in the euphoria of the game. This wasn’t just football—it was history in the making.

Joe jogged back toward the sideline, his expression calm but focused, like this was just another day at the office. But I could see the fire in his eyes, the determination that had carried him and the team this far.

By the fourth quarter, the game was all but decided. LSU’s lead was insurmountable, the offense and defense both performing at their peak. But Joe didn’t let up, still playing with the same intensity he had at kickoff.

I captured a shot of him in the huddle, his arm slung around one of his teammates as he called the next play. There was something about the way he led, the quiet confidence that radiated off him, that made it impossible to look away.

When the clock finally ran out, the scoreboard flashing LSU’s victory, the stadium erupted. Players stormed the field, coaches hugged each other, and the fans went wild. I snapped photo after photo, documenting the chaos and joy that filled the air. They were headed to the National Championship.

I lowered my camera for a moment, just to take it all in. The confetti, the cheers, the pure elation that came with a win like this—it was a moment I wouldn’t forget.

And then, as the team gathered for the trophy presentation, my eyes found him again. Joe stood at the center of it all, the MVP of the game, his smile brighter than the lights overhead.

I didn’t need a camera to remember this moment. It was etched into my memory, clear as day.

I brought my camera back up, capturing one last shot of him holding up the Peach Bowl trophy, a grin breaking across his face. The confetti rained down around him, a sea of purple and gold framing the moment perfectly.

I couldn’t stop smiling as I packed up my gear, my heart full with the weight of what I’d just witnessed. It wasn’t just a game—it was a reminder of why I loved this job, why I loved being here, even when it meant facing things I wasn’t ready to confront.

And maybe, just maybe, it was a reminder of why Joe Burrow still had a way of pulling at my heartstrings, whether I wanted him to or not.

I did my way directly to the media room, waiting for Maddie to catch up with me on the way. Our eyes, mouths, bodies — you could tell that we were living the dream.

“I can't believe in what just happened.” Maddie said to me, loud and clear, trying to talk louder than the voices surrounding us.

A quiet buzz hummed in the media room as Maddie and I reviewed our notes and photos while waiting for the post-game interviews. The energy from LSU’s victory still hung in the air, even though the stadium was slowly emptying.

Joe arrived in the room surrounded by cameras and reporters, his expression calm yet commanding. He still wore his uniform, though the helmet was gone, and his face gleamed with the remnants of sweat. The Peach Bowl trophy gleamed on the table beside him, a physical reminder of the night’s triumph.

I positioned myself near the back, pretending to focus on editing the photos on my laptop. Maddie whispered something about the quality of the lighting, but my attention was elsewhere. I couldn’t help but glance up every time Joe spoke, his words measured and precise as he answered the questions being thrown his way.

“I felt like we were in a rhythm all night,” Joe said, his voice steady. “The offensive line gave me time, and the receivers made the plays. It’s a team win.”

I snapped a quick picture, capturing the moment, even though I knew I wouldn’t use it. Something about seeing him under the spotlight like this, with the weight of his success on full display, felt surreal.

After the interview, the team headed back toward the locker room to change and prepare for the ride back. Maddie and I lingered in the corner of the locker room, packing up our equipment.

We headed to the bus, getting our places on the back, where we used to travel. I was still electrified, feeling on my skin all the energy of the night that we just had it.

“You crushed it today,” Maddie said, nudging me as I zipped up my bag. “Seriously, those shots of Jefferson’s touchdowns are going to blow up.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, distracted. I was double-checking my bag when it hit me.

My second camera.

It wasn’t in my bag. My stomach sank as I realized I’d left it in the players’ locker room earlier during halftime.

“I’ll be right back,” I told Maddie, already heading toward the hallway.

“Want me to come with you?” she called after me, but I shook my head.

The hallway leading to the locker room was silent, an abrupt change from the chaos and energy that had dominated the stadium hours earlier. I could hear the muffled sound of voices in the parking lot, where the team was already preparing to board the bus. Maddie had stayed behind, talking to another reporter in the media room, but I was there, hurried, because I had left one of my cameras in the players' locker room.

The door was closed when I arrived. I hesitated for a moment, my heart beating too fast, but I slowly pushed it open, calling softly so no one would be caught by surprise.

"Just here to get my camera," I murmured, my voice echoing in the empty space.

That's when I saw him.

Joe was sitting on the bench, still wearing the black shirt he wore under his uniform, with a towel draped over his shoulders. His hair was slightly messy, still damp from the shower.He hadn’t noticed me yet, and for a moment, I considered turning around and leaving before he did. But then, his gaze lifted, and his eyes locked on mine.

My breath caught.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice softer than it had been during the interviews but no less certain.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to speak. “I—I forgot my camera.”

He nodded, watching as I moved toward the bench on the far side of the room where my gear was. The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable, as I fumbled with the camera strap, trying to avoid looking at him.

As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me.

“Do you think I’ve forgotten about you?”

The question hit me like a punch to the chest, and I froze, my hand tightening around the strap of my camera.

“I…” I started, but my voice faltered. What was I supposed to say to that?

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. The weight of his gaze was too much, and the vulnerability in his voice shattered any defense I might have had.

He took a step closer, his duffel bag slipping from his shoulder to the ground. “Because I haven’t,” he said, his tone soft but resolute. “I’ve tried, Y/N. God, I’ve tried. But it doesn’t work. You’re still in my head. Always.”

My heart pounded in my chest, and I couldn’t bring myself to move, to speak, to do anything but stand there and let his words sink in.

And for the first time in months, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run from him—or to him.

I stared at him, my mind racing as I tried to process what he was saying. The locker room felt impossibly small, the world outside forgotten as his words hung in the air.

“I thought…” I started again, swallowing hard. “I thought we agreed to move on.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, I thought I could. Turns out I was wrong.”

My chest tightened, the mix of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Anger, confusion, hope—they all swirled together as I looked at him, searching for something in his eyes that would make sense of this.

“What do you want me to say, Joe?” I asked, my voice trembling. “You walked away. You left.”

“And I regret it,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “Every damn day.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know what I felt anymore. All I knew was that the way he was looking at me—like I was the only thing that mattered—was making it impossible to think straight.

“You don’t get to do this,” I whispered, my grip tightening on the camera strap. “Not now.”

Joe nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he took a step back. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t forgotten. And I don’t think I ever will.”

He turned and walked out, leaving me alone in the silence of the locker room. I stood there, staring at the spot where he’d been, my heart pounding in my chest as his words echoed in my mind.

Do you think I’ve forgotten about you?

No, I didn’t think he had. And that was the problem.

The weight of Joe's words seemed to have transformed the air around me into something dense, palpable, difficult to breathe. The tension was so thick that it could almost be cut, but something inside me hesitated to run away. My eyes fixed on his, a mixture of surprise and something else that I didn't want to name taking care of me.

"Joe..." My voice came out in a whisper, his name almost trembling on my lips. "I don't even know what to say."

He took a step towards me, and then another, his eyes never leaving mine. "You don't have to say anything. Just... just listen," he began, his voice loaded with something I hadn't heard in him for a long time - vulnerability. "I tried to move on. I thought I could bury it, but I can't. You're there, Y/N. Always there."

My grip on the camera tightened. The part of me that had been building walls since the night he walked away screamed at me to leave, to not let him in again. But the other part—the one that still felt the warmth of his touch and remembered every word he had ever whispered—wanted to stay.

“You left,” I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I had kept bottled up. “You just… left.”

“I know,” he said, his voice raw with regret. “And it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

His honesty cut through me, and I shook my head, trying to find the strength to look away. “You can’t just say that now, Joe. Not after everything.”

“I know,” he repeated, his eyes never leaving mine. “But I need you to understand—I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped wanting this.”

The vulnerability in his voice, the way he looked at me like I was something he couldn’t bear to lose, shattered the last of my defenses.

“Joe,” I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes. “I don’t know if I can go through this again.”

I shook my head, confused, struggling to contain the wave of emotion that threatened to dominate me.

"Because I was scared," he interrupted me, his voice hoarse. "Of what you meant to me. Of how much you meant to me. And I know I don't deserve for you to forgive me, but—”

"Joe, stop," I said, my voice firm this time, but my hands were shaking. "You can't just come back like this and say these things. Do you have any idea how much it hurts? How much it—”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if my words had hit him directly. When he opened them again, there was something desperate there. "I know. And I'll spend as long as it takes proving to you that I regret it. But right now, I just need to know—do you still feel it? Because I do. Every time I see you, every time I think about you... it's still there. I’m not asking you to,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m asking for a chance to prove I won’t let you down again.”

My chest tightened with his words, each sentence hitting me like a wave. I wanted to yell at him, say that it wasn't fair for him to come out of nowhere with these confessions, after so long. But at the same time, all I wanted was to stop feeling this pain that seemed to have no end.

"Why now?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Why do you get to say this now?"

Joe closed his eyes for a moment, as if he was gathering courage. When he looked at me again, the vulnerability in his eyes completely disarmed me.

"Because I can't keep pretending I'm okay without you," he replied. "I can't stop thinking about you, Y/N. You're everywhere for me. Damn, for every second of the day since I wake up, you’re there. Every win, every moment, every trophy—I want to share it with you."

I was about to answer, but before I could form any word, he took another step and got so close that I could feel the familiarity of his presence - that unmistakable smell of his, the way his breathing seemed to synchronize with mine.

"Joe," I murmured, my heart beating hard as his eyes plunged into mine. “I hate you,” I mumbled against his chest, my voice muffled but shaky.

“No, you don’t,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands cradling my face as if I were something fragile. The tension between us felt like a live wire, humming with electricity.

And then, he didn't say anything else. He just tilted his head, hesitantly, as if he gave me the chance to retreat. But I didn't back down.

When his lips finally met mine, the world seemed to disappear. All the anger, the hurt, the confusion that had haunted me for so long dissolved, replaced by something stronger, deeper.

The kiss was slow, hesitant at first, as if we were both testing the waters of something we had been too scared to confront. But the moment I let myself melt into him, all the hurt, the doubt, the fear—it all disappeared. All that remained was him, and the way he made me feel like I was whole again.

My hands met on his shoulders while his pulled me closer, holding me as if I were something he never wanted to lose again. The warmth of his arms around me brought a sense of security that I didn't even realize I was looking for.

When we finally separated, just enough for our eyes to meet, Joe had a smile on his face. A genuine smile, which seemed to illuminate the empty environment.

"Does this mean you'll let me make it up to you?" He asked, his voice low and hoarse.

"Maybe," I murmured, unable to contain a smile of my own.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice a whisper now. "For everything. For leaving. For not fighting for you. But I'm here now, and I'll fight as long as it takes."

I nodded, unable to find the words.

He smiled then, a real, genuine smile that made my heart twist in the best way. "Be my girlfriend," he said, straight, without hesitation

My heart stopped.

I blinked, surprised, my mind trying to process the sudden simplicity of his words. "What?"

He laughed softly, his nose brushing mine while his hand went up to my face, holding it gently. "You heard me. No more games. No more running. I want you, Y/N. I want us."

“Joe…” I started, but he cut me off.

“Let me finish,” he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “I want to be with you. Not just for a moment, not just for now. For everything. So, will you let me prove that to you? Will you let me be yours again?”

My heart seemed to be struggling to get out of my chest, and even with the confusion that still remained in my mind, one thing was clear: in his arms, I felt at home again.

"Okay," I finally said, the word coming out in a whisper. "Okay."

His smile grew, and before I knew it, he had pulled me into his arms again, spinning me around as if we weren’t standing in the middle of an empty locker room.

The smile that illuminated his face was genuine, full of joy and relief. He pulled me back into his arms, pressing me against him while whispering: "You don't know how long I've waited to hear that."

I laughed against his chest, feeling the happiness that seemed unattainable for a long time. There, in Joe's arms, everything finally seemed to be in place.

Joe smiled even more, his eyes shining with a happiness that made me smile back, despite myself. And when he pulled me for another kiss, I knew that, for the first time in a long time, I was exactly where I should be.

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joeburrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x reader #bengals #jburrgf fics #ex girlfriend #ex situationship

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seggsolme · 4 months ago

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Normalize not giving x reader lesbian stories an ex boyfriend plz

#ellie williams x reader #wlw blog #lesbian #paige bueckers x reader #agatha harkness x reader #like it’s literally so unnecessary and adds nothing to the plot the an ex girlfriend couldn’t do

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ripleyresonance · 4 months ago

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Picture Imperfect

Rhea Ripley x Ex-girlfriend reader (18+)

Warnings: Smut/mentions of heartbreak/shitty fiance

Summary: Your ex-girlfriend shows up at your engagement party. Will old habits die hard or the wish of a stable life prevail.

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Everything was perfect.

Or, at least, it was supposed to be.

The garden sparkled in the evening light, every flowerbed meticulously arranged, the white roses glowing like polished porcelain amidst the reds and pinks. The fountains sprayed high in delicate arcs, catching the light as they crisscrossed above the paths. Staff moved with quiet precision, setting out silverware, fluffing napkins, and positioning signs with swirling letters that promised, “To Happily Ever After.”

You took a steadying breath, hands smoothing over the silk fabric of your dress. This is what you wanted, you reminded yourself. You were doing the right thing, the practical thing, the smart thing. He was the safe choice, the perfect match on paper—the dependable, successful kind of man you could build a future with. The man who made sense.

You glanced up at the balcony, catching sight of your fiancé as he gave you a practiced smile and a wink, a sign that everything was falling into place. That this picture of perfection, this life you’d worked so hard to create, was as flawless as it appeared. A life where you could feel… secure. Settled.

This is what I wanted, you told yourself again, a touch more firmly.

Then, arms slipped around your waist, spinning you around, his face beaming with pride. “Don’t you look stunning, my love?”

You forced a light laugh. “Oh, stop, I’m not even—”

“But look at this,” he interrupted, stepping back to admire his suit, catching his reflection in the nearby glass with a grin. You pasted on a bright smile. “Oh, wow, honey, you look… great!”

You moved to slip your arms around him, wanting to feel that warmth, that connection, something real to reassure you. “You know, we do have an hour to ourselves before guests arrive…” You lowered your voice, pressing a little closer. But he darted back quickly, smoothing his jacket with a practiced, panicked motion. “Careful, babe—you’ll wrinkle the suit!”

You let out a laugh that felt strained, the moment already slipping away. Stay calm. This is the right choice.

“Oh, I just thought—” you started, but he cut you off again.

“Hey, use the time to cover that little pimple, hmm?” he chuckled, tapping his cheek. “Can’t have you looking bad in the family photos.”

The words stung, but you swallowed the hurt. This is good, you reminded yourself, holding back any sign of frustration. This is right. He’s dependable. Reliable. The kind of man who would stay.Or be too afraid to leave.

You took another deep breath, stepping into the dress you’d chosen for the evening—a soft yellow to complement his gray suit. You turned, catching your reflection, and forced another smile.

This is everything you wanted.

Or at least, everything you’d convinced yourself you needed.

But an hour into the party, and your fiancé was long gone, laughing with old friends and family members. You drifted from conversation to conversation, half-listening to his uncle drone on about property values in Morocco, until you finally spotted your friends, Indi and Candace, laughing at a table tucked in the corner.

“There’s the woman of the hour!” Candace cheered as you reached them.

“In a very… uninspired dress,” Indi teased, sticking her tongue out.

You gave her a playful glare, reaching over to swipe her glass of champagne, taking a hearty sip as she flicked you off with a grin.

“It’s the perfect complement to my fiancé’s designer suit, thank you very much,” you replied dryly.

“Right. And your fiancé is… where?” Candace said, glancing around the crowd, while Indi jokingly ducked to look under the table.

You sighed, the forced smile faltering. “Last I saw him, he left me with Aunt Jen to discuss our ideal number of children…”

“And we’re supposed to be happy for you because…?” Candace arched a brow.

“Because… he’s stable? Because he’s… safe?” you offered, trying to sound sure of it.

Indi leaned forward, taking your hand in hers. “It’s just not like you. You used to be the life of the party—the one dragging us to dive bars at midnight, buying rounds of those awful Jell-O shots. You’d be making out with Rhea in the corner before the night was even halfway over.”

A small, wistful smile tugged at your lips. The memories came rushing back—the late nights, the messy laughs, Rhea’s intense gaze that always felt like it saw straight through to your soul. Even the little things, like dancing barefoot in her tiny apartment, felt like magic.

“We can’t live in the past forever, can we?” you said, clearing your throat, pushing the memories back where they belonged. The ache lingered anyway.

Indi hesitated. “But with Rhea—”

“No Rhea mentions tonight, please.” You shook your head, the words coming out more forcefully than you intended. “We broke up for a reason. She was flying all over, living out her dream. And I was… I was just there.”

“But you were happy,” Indi said quietly, her gaze unwavering.

You tried to muster up a convincing smile. “With Matt, it’s different. All he wants is a clean house and someone by his side. I know he’s not just going to disappear. With Rhea… I never knew if she’d stay.”

Candace sighed, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “But when’s the last time you felt real joy? When’s the last time you let loose, or did something that actually excited you?”

You shrugged, forcing a breezy tone. “Can’t you just be happy for me? For one night?”

The worried look Indi and Candace exchanged only deepened the hollow feeling in your chest. But with a tight smile, you excused yourself, making your way back into the crowd, the pressure of perfection building as you found your fiancé’s cousins. They started telling stories about his college days, and you tried to listen, but the voices of your friends kept echoing in your head.

They were right. The old you would’ve laughed at this garden party, with its perfect decor, its soft violin music, its endless parade of well-heeled guests. The old you would be in some dimly lit bar with Rhea, dancing to blaring rock music, the two of you yelling the lyrics into each other’s faces, laughing until your sides hurt. You could almost feel her hands on your waist, pulling you close, her voice murmuring in your ear, “Just you and me, yeah?”

Those were the days when you barely made rent, working long shifts in a retail job you despised. But somehow, even with all the chaos and uncertainty, you were happy, because she was there. You’d found a home in her arms, even if it was temporary.

You let out a shaky breath, memories tugging at your heart, the last conversation with her replaying in your mind. “I can’t keep asking you to wait for me,” Rhea had said that night, her voice low, eyes sad. “I don’t want to be the reason you feel stuck.”

It had felt like she’d ripped something out of you, but you’d told yourself it was the right thing. You wanted stability, something secure. And here you were, right where you’d imagined you wanted to be.

Hours later, as the garden party went on, you finally found your fiancé, engrossed in a conversation about work and upcoming IPOs. You excused yourself, feeling the need for something stronger than champagne. You headed for the bar, ordering a whiskey sour.

Eyes closed, you took a steadying breath, willing yourself to feel the satisfaction you’d hoped this night would bring.

“Tough day, huh?”

Your eyes flew open, and you turned toward the voice.

There, standing beside Indi, was a familiar figure, broad shoulders, muscular arms, dark hair slightly tousled, and that small, crooked smirk you knew so well.

“Surprise,” Indi said softly, giving you a half-smile, as Rhea’s gaze met yours, unflinching.

You stood frozen, your heart pounding in disbelief. This had to be some strange dream. You’d seen Rhea on TV since the breakup, but nothing could have prepared you to see her right here, looking back at you with that familiar warmth in her eyes, like no time had passed at all.

Finally, you managed to choke out, “Indi, can I speak with you…in private?”

Indi gave Rhea a quick, apologetic look before following you a few steps away. The moment you were out of earshot, you hissed, “What the hell, dude!” giving Indi a quick slap on the arm, louder than you intended.

“Don’t hate me!” Indi cringed, raising her hands defensively. “We were out at a bar last week, and I just casually mentioned you were engaged. She practically begged me for the details! And… I may have let it slip about the party,” she mumbled, glancing sheepishly away.

You opened your mouth, ready to let her have it, but stopped short as something sank in. She begged you for details?

Indi’s smile softened, her expression turning a bit sad. “She looked like she was going to burst into tears, if I’m being honest.”

You glanced over your shoulder. There she was, talking with Candace, that easy smile lighting up her face as if she were exactly where she belonged. She was somehow even more striking than you remembered, her frame solid and powerful, the black dress clinging in all the right places. You couldn’t help but remember countless nights when that same dress ended up on your bedroom floor.

Clearing your throat, you whipped back to face Indi, feeling a familiar ache you’d tried so hard to ignore. “And how, exactly, am I supposed to explain to my fiancé that my ex-girlfriend is here?”

Indi smirked, tilting her head toward the far side of the garden, where your fiancé stood, laughing with his friends. “Oh, please. Do you really think he’d even notice if you disappeared for a little while? He looks pretty wrapped up in… himself.”

You chewed your lip, fighting the pull of emotions rising in your chest. From across the garden, Candace caught your eye and gave a subtle, encouraging nod toward Rhea, silently coaxing you to go.

“Fine. Twenty minutes,” you muttered, the words escaping before you could fully think them through. “I’ll talk to Rhea for twenty minutes in the study. If anyone asks where I am, you come and get me.”

Indi’s eyes twinkled with a knowing smile as you took a deep breath, steadying yourself before turning back to Rhea. Candace opened her mouth to say something, but you cut her off.

“Twenty minutes. You, me, library. Start walking,” you ordered, keeping your tone steady as you brushed past Rhea toward the house.

“Yes, ma’am.” Rhea’s reply was light but carried that touch of mischief, and as she shot a concerned look at Indi and Candace, she fell in step behind you.

You moved quickly through the hallways, keeping your steps silent, glancing back now and then to be sure no one was following. When you finally reached the study, you shut the doors behind you, feeling a surge of emotions you’d kept buried for so long.

The words came out before you could stop them. “Do you think my life is some kind of game? Something you can just drop in on whenever you feel like it?”

Rhea’s eyes widened slightly, but she gave a small chuckle. “I’d never play games with your life, but it seems like maybe you are. You used to love making your Sims suffer for fun, but now you’re doing it to yourself.” She cocked her head toward the door. “Seriously, it’s bad enough you’re getting married, but to that guy? I’m not sure his ego could even fit through that doorway.”

You took a breath, caught between the biting truth in her words and the stability you’d worked so hard to build.

Yeah? And what would you even know about my life now?” you scoffed, arms crossing as you kept your gaze on her. “You left it, remember? And look at you now—you seem pretty happy with things. I even saw your face on a toy in Walmart the other day. Real superstar over here."

Rhea sighed, crossing her arms but keeping her eyes on you, a hint of guilt flickering there. “I’m not here to shit on you. It’s just… none of this feels like you,” she said, her voice softer.

“Yeah, well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” you shot back, but Rhea held up a hand, cutting you off gently.

“I know I’m the one who called things off,” she started, voice catching slightly. “And I know it’s been nearly two years, but… I can’t just stand by and watch someone I love ruin their future like this.” She took a small step closer, as if afraid you’d move away.

“‘Loved,’” you corrected her sharply, deflecting. But she stepped even closer, her hand reaching out to catch yours, her grip firm and familiar.

“Love,” she whispered, voice low, her eyes locked onto yours. The intensity in her gaze made your heart stutter, the sincerity of it so raw, just like the day she’d left you. She held your gaze, and you felt the walls you’d built start to crack.

For a moment, everything felt like it had back then—the nights you’d spent together, laughing, arguing, knowing each other so deeply it hurt. But you forced yourself to pull back, snapping back to the present as you broke free of her hold.

“No… no,” you muttered, stepping around her. “I’m not doing this with you again, Rhea. I can’t. You were my everything, and you walked away.” You felt your voice rising, your frustration and heartbreak bubbling over. “You were my world, Rhea. I would have done anything for you—God, I would’ve moved heaven and earth if you’d asked, no questions asked. But it wasn’t enough, was it?”

Her face softened, her posture almost crumbling as she took in your words, letting them land. “I thought… I thought I was doing what was best for you,” she whispered. “Letting you go, leaving, it wasn’t because you weren’t enough. It was because I loved you enough to think… you deserved more.”

You felt a bitter laugh slip out, even as tears began to blur your vision. “So what’s the plan here, then? You want me to call off my engagement, break off my stable, safe future… for you? Just because you finally figured out what you lost?”

“Please, just… listen.” Rhea’s voice was soft, pleading. “I know I messed up. I know I made the choice for both of us, and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. But I can’t stand the thought of you spending yours unhappy, pretending it’s enough.”

You shook your head, trying to focus, to keep your heart locked up tight. “Maybe I don’t deserve more. Maybe predictable, maybe… comfortable… maybe that’s enough for me.” But even as you said it, you knew she could hear the crack in your voice.

She stepped forward, hands shaking slightly as they cupped your face. “Look at me. Are you really happy?”

Her question made your heart ache. You wanted to scream, to push her away, but as her thumb brushed against your cheek, something broke inside you. Your voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t know anymore.”

In that moment, the gap between you felt unbearable. And before you could second-guess yourself, you reached out, grabbing her face and pulling her down into a kiss, fierce and hungry, every ounce of anger and heartbreak pouring out. Rhea tensed, stunned, but then her hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you in, her kiss deepening as if she’d been starved for this as long as you had.

It felt like time had rewound, like everything you’d both lost was suddenly within reach. Her lips tasted of salt and need, her arms strong and steady as they lifted you effortlessly, guiding you back to the desk. She set you down carefully, her forehead pressed to yours as her fingers trailed up your chin, finally tracing the outline of your lips.

“Let me make it up to you,” she murmured, voice rough with emotion, her eyes fixed on you with a seriousness that took your breath away.

Your heart pounded as you traced your fingers along her jaw, memorizing the feeling. “I shouldn’t… this is crazy…”

But she silenced you with another kiss, gentler this time, her fingers tangling in your hair, every touch filled with unspoken promises, like an answer to the questions you’d buried. And suddenly, you couldn’t hold back.

You parted your lips slowly, allowing her fingers to slip inside, and without thinking, your tongue moved over them, instinctively savoring the warmth of her touch. You held her gaze the entire time, knowing exactly what it did to her—that flicker of excitement and the way her lip caught between her teeth, barely containing a smile as she watched you.

A slow, unspoken tension passed between you, thickening the air, her fingers lingering just a moment longer than they needed to. The intensity in her eyes was impossible to ignore, dark with longing, as though the world beyond this moment had ceased to matter entirely.

“You’re always such a good girl for me huh.” Rhea smirked removing her fingers.

“And I’m so sorry I left you aching for so long.” Rhea said starting to move the silk up your thigh with her other hand making you gasp.

“Ill make sure to..thoughouly appologize.’ Rhea said slipping the wet fingers under your panties.

You cursed under your breath leaning back and arching your back a little pushing out your breast.

“I should have known you would be wet for me. No matter how much time has passed. No matter who your with. This will always be my…fucking…cunt.” Rhea said pressing harder into your clit making you moan.

She continued slowly rubbing up and down your slit making small circles on your clit she knew drove you crazy.

“You fucking asshole..please-oh my god.” you groaned as she pushed them into your entrance. Your pussy molding to her fingers like it was a habbit as you groaned and squirmed under her grasp.

“Cmon sweetheart let out those pretty moans for me I can tell your close. Cum on my fingers just like you used to.” Rhea encouraged picking up the pace and pushing you over the edge.

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before Rhea’s hand found the slit in her dress, sweeping it aside with practiced ease. In one fluid movement, she dropped to her knees before you, lifting your leg over her shoulder with a confidence that made your pulse race. Her eyes flicked up to yours, a silent promise passing between you, deep and familiar.

“Rhe wait it’s to sensitive I- fuck!” you yelped as her tounge danced across your clit.

“Cmon baby I know you can give me one more. I could hear you moan all day.” Rhea groaned pressing her lips against your clit and taking it in her mouth.

The instant her mouth met you, a shockwave rippled through your body, forcing you to arch back as a raw, unfiltered moan escaped your lips. Your hand flew to her hair, tangling in the soft, dark strands, and you felt the cold press of your engagement ring catch, glinting there as if it were a witness to the undeniable pull between you. The weight of that ring—the promise it held to someone else—should have felt wrong, but as her grip tightened on your thigh and she took you deeper, it only made this feel more inevitable, more electric, like a secret you’d longed to surrender to.

Shame should have washed over you, but all you felt was a raw, unapologetic hunger. You’d never thought you’d find yourself on this side of betrayal, but here you were, and the way Rhea moved, the way she knew every unspoken part of you, eclipsed anything you’d felt in years. This wasn’t something you could walk away from—no, not now.

The sloppy erotic sounds between your legs filled the room, blending with your own ragged breaths. When her eyes met yours, a flicker of something deep, an understanding you hadn’t felt with anyone else, you could feel yourself spiraling toward that edge again. Words tumbled out, almost involuntarily, as your walls dropped, and all the feelings you’d tried to bury started to surface, raw and undeniable.

“Please Rhea, take me away from here. Make me feel like this every night again. I’ll be your good girl just like I used to-mhp! Just please.” You panted closer to the edge.

“I promise you my love. Its you and me against the world.” Rhea smiled into your cunt as she started swirling her tounge in an unholy manner making you cover your own mouth before a scream escaped as you came harder than you could have ever imagined in her mouth.

Rhea lapped up every drop as excruciatingly slow as possible saving every drop.

You leaned back against the desk, heart still racing, trying to catch your breath. The sunset filtered through the window, casting a warm glow that caught on the diamond of your engagement ring—one you suddenly felt ready to leave behind.

“Did you… really mean it?” you panted softly, looking down at Rhea.

She stayed kneeling in front of you, her eyes softening, serious in a way that left no room for doubt. “I’m already on one knee, aren’t I?” she whispered.

You half-expected her to flash that familiar smirk, but when you looked down, her expression was unguarded, vulnerable. She was really waiting for you.

“So, you think you can just waltz into my engagement party, plead for me to take you back, have your way with me in my fiancé’s study, and—” your words faltered, breath hitching as the weight of it all sunk in. “And act like I’m supposed to forget that you broke my heart?”

A flicker of worry crossed her face as you tilted her chin up to meet your eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Took you long enough, Ripley,” you said, the smile breaking free.

Rhea’s face lit up with a joy that felt almost childlike. In one swift move, she scooped you up, spinning you around as laughter spilled out of you both, the weight of years melting away.

When she finally set you down, she looked at you with a promise in her eyes. “I’m going to keep that smile on your face every day,” she murmured, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that felt like forever, yet left you wanting more.

A knock on the door jolted you both back to reality.

“Hey, groom’s on the hunt!” Indi called from outside. “Something about a speech he wants to make for you.”

You felt panic bubble up, but Rhea squeezed your hand, a playful glint in her eye. “I’ll see you in ten minutes,” she said, already plotting. “I think I have some sprinklers to… accidentally set off.”

She gave your hand one last kiss before slipping toward the door, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Oh, and sweetheart… might want to leave that ring on the desk. Don’t want any misunderstandings about whose fiancée you are.”

You grinned, unable to help yourself as you slipped off the ring, feeling the lightness that came with it. Following her out the door, you found Indi waiting, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

“So, what kind of trouble are we about to get into?” she asked, smirking.

You couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face, feeling lighter than you had in years.

“Might want to ditch those heels, Indi,” you said, voice bubbling with excitement. “I’ve got a future to catch.”

Hellooooo lovelies I hope you are well! I had this idea the other day between writing vampire part 2 so I had to provide it since rhea is on hiatus anyway. I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING THIS IS A FANTASY.

#mami rhea #rhea ripley x reader #wwe raw #wlw #wwe #rhea ripley imagine #rhea ripley #rhea x reader #smut #hurt/comfort #ex girlfriend

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itsthecline · 5 months ago

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stop staring at me

maybank!reader x rafe cameron

summary after rafe almost killed your brother , you had some choice words to say to him and later that night to kie

warnings profanity , reader pushes rafe and snaps on kie , allusions to depression

it was that time of the year for the enduro to take place , which meant jj was entering himself , and most likely betting on himself too. the enduro was a huge bike race. there was only rule : race to the old buoy and back. jj was confident in himself this year , telling you to get a good spot to see him win. so , that’s what you did.

you stood at the finish line with sarah , kie , and pope , watching your brother talk to john b before the race. just as cleo finished up her work , rafe rolled up beside them. “great , my brother’s here,” sarah groaned , lips curling in disgust.

from the distance , you could still tell rafe was looking at you. his eyes were squinted due to the sun beating down on everyone , but you couldn’t read his mind anymore. you didn’t know what he was staring at you for. especially when he lost the right to stare at you such a long time ago. you had heard the rumors that he was dating sofia— you knew her , worked with her at the club. he didn’t have the right anymore.

“if he fucks with jj at all this race , i will personally take on the task of killing him,” you announced , crossing your arms and glaring at him until he looked away. john b jogged up to you guys , grabbing his jacket and sarah before walking away.

“what do you think that’s about?” pope wondered , eyes following your friends.

you shrugged , muttering you’ll be back before heading to jj. in your path was rafe. it almost looked like he was walking toward you , so you moved to the side and pushed him with your hand when you crossed paths. “asshole,” you cough. you hated hating him , but right now you were more worried about jj. “i don’t know what you’re up to , little brother , but do not be stupid. please?” you started blunt when you reached jj and his bike.

“i’m not up to anything that’s going to end up doing us more harm than good. promise,” jj assured you , squeezing your hand, “trust me that i’ve got this.”

so badly , you wanted to. you wanted to believe that this was jj’s year to win , but you knew rafe inside and out. you knew how dirty he was always willing to get. “just be careful. i don’t want to pick up jj guts if you crash , ‘kay? you know rafe and topper are gonna wanna—“

“y/n! i said i’ve got this. jb is gonna ride with me. chill,” jj interrupted you almost whining, “go back to the group. i’ll see you when i cross the finish line.”

you rolled your eyes before deciding he was right. “love you , dork,” you smiled , knocking on the front of his bike before heading back to your friends. you hear jj shouting he loved you back in response. sarah intercepted you before you made it all the way back to your spot.

“what you and jj talk about?” she questioned , watching her boyfriend over your shoulder, “did you know?”

“know what? what are you talking about?” you rambled , swatting her hands off of you in confusion.

sarah looked over both her shoulders like she was paranoid someone was listening. “john b just told me that jj bet the last nugget on himself,” she whispered , getting closer to you so her words wouldn’t slip out into the loose air.

“are you kidding me?”

you were anxiously waiting alongside your friends for the race to end. you hadn’t seen jj since his rocky start to the race. the most intel you had was what the announcers were giving you. and it wasn’t sounding good. that’s when he decided to change courses , taking a near fifty foot jump to potentially cut in front of rafe and get into first place.

“i’m going to throw up,” you groaned , holding your stomach and covering your mouth. you squinted you eyes , not having the courage to look at it head on as you see jj flying through the air on his bike. your eyes clamped shut , waiting for everyone to cheer or ooh. whichever one happened , you knew you’d have to wait until everyone was done either the race to do something , and that’s what killed you.

sarah grabbed your shoulders and shook you as she jumped up and down , screaming, “he made it! oh , my god! he made it!” your eyes shot open seeing jj land upright , which was enough for you.

you and your friends , the crowd too even , went crazy , cheering jj on as he was so close to finishing with rafe right behind him to see it. “oh , my god,” you flinched , seeing what rafe was about to do before everyone else, “i’m going to kill him.” rafe was always competitive , and he was very serious about the enduro. the fact that he was racing jj just pushed him harder. he was swerving , trying to get jj to wipe out right in front of him , fighting for first place.

“they’re going to crash,” sarah predicted , holding your hand in hers tightly. it was like her words triggered the action , like her saying it sealed the deal.

their bikes collided , sending both jj and rafe flying over their bikes and into the sand. it took everything in you to not run onto the track and check on your brother , not seeing him move immediately. sarah anchored you in your spot , not letting you jump into action. topper was coming up in third , now first ; john b was right behind him. of course , it got worse.

john b was headed right for jj , and topper was going to win. you completely turned away this time , not wanting to see john b hit jj with his bike. you didn’t hear any collision , only cheering and the announcer shouting about topper’s first place win. “guys!” sarah shouted , dropping your hand and running out to the boys as soon as the last biker crossed the finish line. you followed her out but headed for rafe instead.

“are you fucking kidding me?” you yelled , shoving him back down into the sand as he was getting up with all of your force, “you almost killed my brother! and yourself! you idiot! do you think at all?” your voice was loud , louder than you had ever used with rafe before. the anger in your eyes was new too.

rafe pushed himself up off the ground and dusted off his clothes before glaring down at you. “what do you care?” he sneered, “your brother’s fine. i just made sure he didn’t win ; heard he bet something real valuable on himself. spending money like a pogue.” with that , rafe turned , wanting to walk away before the argument escalated like he knew it would. it always did.

“asshole!” you yelled , shoving at his back to successfully make him face you again, “stop taking your shit out on us! stop staring at me all of the time! just stop!” you continued to shove at his chest until he grabbed your wrists to stop you. he had noticed the people starting to stare at you two before letting you go , and you felt someone’s finger hook on your belt loop ; like they were ready to pull you back in case rafe did something. your guess was kie. it was always kie who did that.

“knock it off , y/n. i’m not doing this shit here,” rafe groaned , wiping his hand down his face in frustration just as sofia walked up to him.

she spoke softly , eyes not even taking a moment to look at you. she was focused on rafe. “everything okay over here?”

“rafe doesn’t need you to back him up right now , sofia. he’s a grown man,” you barked , getting her to snap her neck in your direction.

“no , i don’t,” rafe agreed, “and i don’t need to argue with you anymore. seriously , y/n , this is ridiculous! the race is over! your brother lost , and that means you lose. it’s over,” he finished , grabbing sofia’s hand and walking away from you , hot and angry tears rolling down your cheeks.

“you okay , bubs?” jj asked you as stepped in front of you , grabbing your face in his hands. his eyes scanned yours , but he couldn’t find anything behind them. he followed your gaze , turning over his shoulder. he found himself watching rafe and sofia making out by his truck , so he quickly looked away. “y/n?”

“you have something to tell me?” you questioned , blinking hard once as you focused on what was important in the moment, “hmm?” you huffed , quickly wiping at the tear and running a hand through your hair as you came back to reality. you already knew , but jj needed to tell you himself as well.

“fuck,” jj cursed , looking down at his feet in the sand. it was bad. “let’s go talk,” he suggested , pulling you by your arm away from everyone else down the beach. you stopped after you got far enough , crossing your arms and looking at jj for some sort of answer. “i — i , uh , i bet the last nug,” he confessed , still not looking at you. he didn’t want to see the way your face dropped, “fuck!” he yelled , throwing his helmet onto the sand in frustration. his hands covered his face before he plopped to the ground.

“fuck is right,” you replied simply after taking a deep breath so you didn’t lose it on him too. you moved and took a seat next to him , wrapping your arm over his shoulder. “you did good today , jacky,” you reassured him , kissing his temple, “we’ll figure it out.”

it was later that night , and you found yourself swinging on the bench that hung on the porch. after the race , everyone started flipping out about the money. you ended up agreeing on the next course of action. that left you all to your own devices , and you desperately needed to be away from everyone.

“hey , i’ve been looking for ya.” kie’s sweet voice brought you back from your swirling thoughts, “you look lonely,” she added softer , taking a seat next to you.

“i’m not lonely,” you brushed her off , crossing your arms and scooting away ever so slightly, “i don’t need a babysitter right now either , kie. i know everyone’s talking about me— about me yelling at rafe earlier ; i can see the looks you’re giving me.” you thought back to how worried jj looked when he first saw you after the race , and it killed you to know you were the reason for the wrinkles in his face. “i’m fine.”

kie let out a slow , deep breath and nodded. “okay , well , no one in the history of ever that’s said that was fine , so i’m gonna ask you a question , and i want you to answer it honestly because i’m not here to judge you. i’m your best friend ; i’m here to help you,” she leaned forward , trying to catch your eye before she accused you of anything, “what happened between you and rafe?”

your eyes betrayed you , flashing with hurt as you looked at her. “nothing.”

“y/n/n , c’mon. you can tell me everything. i heard you guys at singh’s ; i heard what he said today — heard what you said,” she tried again, “i know you. i know something is wrong. i know something has been wrong. i wanna help.” kie hadn’t brought any of her worries up to anyone yet.

you took a deep breath before shifting and facing her. “do you see me asking you what happened between you and rafe , kie?” you wondered aloud, “because i’m not. it’s not polite,” you added , grabbing her hands in your, “i know you. i know rafe way more than than i’d like , and i know something happened with you guys during your little kook year , but i’m not asking you. it’s not my business.”

“y/n—“

“no , kie!” you cut her off, “i choose not to talk about this thing i have going on , okay? it’s not because i don’t love and trust you. it’s because it’s over! it doesn’t matter anymore. and— and i can’t talk about this specific thing with the people i want to most. it’s killing me ; it really is , but i’m fine.” kie didn’t say anything in response. she just looked at you with her jaw slack. “i love you. i’m going to bed.”

and with that you went inside and tried to sleep , wanting nothing more than for this day to end , wanting nothing more than to be able to start dreaming and see rafe like you used to.

taglist @maybankslover @annatartastic @maroonz @ravenmedows @yootvi @icaqttt

#twin maybank!reader #pogue!reader #ex girlfriend!reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x you

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romanoffshouse · 1 year ago

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Tony: Your giving Natasha a key to your apartment?

Y/N: That's right, I gave her the key to my heart and now I'm giving her the key to my ap-heart-ment.

Tony:

Y/N: [smiles]

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kissesforcarmenn · 2 days ago

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Tell Elliot to come get his shirt back babes 😂 @bbbla1r @elliottcarterr

Tags🐆; @bambionedge @bamaaaa @bbbla1r @elliottcarterr @hannahthekook @alextoofyeee @altheaclemonte @auroraaugust @kurodahana @kiaraac @kenziezieglerrr @greenlungzz @vinn1emullz @m1chaellmyerss @masonperez112 @miaryderanon @meilanirivera @maeve-fischer @john-bookerroutledgee @jadecarterr @johnnyybboyy @jjmakesbank @zarrisxoxo @doriansfilms @delilahroutledge @whofwluka @yktayy9669 @thecoolermaybank

#oc #outer banks #18+ mdni #carmen reed #obx kooks #obx pogues #rafe cameron #john b routledge #jj maybank #pope heyward #kiara carrera #sarah cameron #cleo anderson #dominic fike x reader #ex girlfriend

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newkatzkafe2023 · 4 months ago

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How about Monday Queen reacting to their husband's ex-girlfriend, who was a cheater, trying to get back together despite being aware they are married?

Don't be surprised when yo teeth on the floor getting sturdy-Devonte the one

(Lmk Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhhh boi she's one of those ladies who says nice things to their enemies, you know be passive aggressive and fake. Unfortunately the second she finds that it's your scrub ex-girlfriend who come back Holla at you, she don't even pretend to be nice and helps you kick that B*tch to the curb.

(MKR Wukong) 😰😰😰😰😰 good lord the only reason you EX is still alive is because you didn't tell her, that your ex is back. Despite your wife trusting you entirely it still doesn't stop her from getting jealous and possessive over you, and vice versa for you. So if your ex wants to keep her kneecaps she better get to stepping, or she will be....☠️☠️☠️☠️

(NR Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhhh😯😯😯😬😬😬 this is a incredibly dangerous zone your ex is in, especially when it came to your wife. Wukong maybe goofy and carefree most of the time, but she is the monkey queen and she has killed before. If she finds out that your ex's hoe bag ass is back here trying to slink back to you despite your marriage to her, and now your ex is gonna get exactly what she deserves.

(HIB Wukong) It was Luier who was the first to learn about your exes' mildly sexual harassment, but you told her not to worry about it. Of course, she knew this triggered her anxiety, and after weeks of arguments with your ex, Luier spilled everything she knew to her mother, and to say Wukong was pissed was a severe understatement and when she found your ex well let's just say she's lucky that Wukong breaking her legs is all she did.

(Netflix Wukong) opp your ex-girlfriend is getting bodied, your one of the things she never plays around with. She had worked way to hard to get your attention and to marry you, she is not losing you to an obvious street hooker. So she did what any wife would do to a tramp and ruin her life, she went full troll too. she spread rumors about your ex, vandalized her house, cut her hair and burn her hair while she was always and I'm pretty sure Wukong put itch powder in her face cream. Wukong's revenge harassment was very bad and your ex was so terrified and stressed that she ran away. So yeah Wukong really don't play when it comes to you.

(BMW Wukong) Your ex-girlfriend is dead.... Yup, she is a dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead girl walking. Wukong doesn't like anybody stealing from her, whether it be an immortality peach or her spotlight. When she wants attention, the point is you don't ever steal from her. So when she finds that your ex is trying to steal you away from her, well she might as well dig her own grave.

(Destined one) Yeah the Destined one would become your Ex's worse nightmare, your wife loves you dearly and she hates how your ex was careless to hurt you emotionally constantly like that. So with her quiet girl persona the destined one mentally and psychologically tortured your ex, to the point where your ex developed a phobia of monkeys so she was never seen again. The Destined one may be the calmest of the monkeys but she is not to be crossed ever.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

#monkey king netflix #monkey king reborn #nezha reborn #monkey king x reader #lmk monkey king #monkey king hero is back #black myth wukong #the destined one x reader #perfect marriage revenge #toxic ex #Ex girlfriend #top male reader #x male y/n

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l0ve-dov3 · 1 year ago

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bedroom floor !

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚👒⊹♡

luke castellan x demeter! reader

summary: in which luke talks to his ex-girlfriend on a vacation with the senior campers.

warnings: just a naughty word or two :^

word count: 1.3k !

authors note: this one-shot is an ode to the song bedroom floor by sneaky peaches and the fuzz. definitely not sure about how i feel on this one-shot, but i tried my best to tie the ‘hopelessly heartbroken’ vibes of the song into this fic. can’t tell if it worked or not, soooo!

Luke sat in the back of a crowded van, listening to the loud chatter between his friends. It was summer, and the senior campers managed to get Chiron’s permission for a beach trip. This would be great, of course—for everyone needs a vacation sometimes—if you hadn’t broken up with him about a month prior.

It wasn’t exactly bad. You were far too sweet for a angry, heartless breakup like that. But Gods, did he miss you. I mean truly, deeply miss you, and he was hoping by now he’d be over it.

Spoiler, he wasn’t.

Because now, he was pretending to pay attention to Chris, more focused on you singing with Clarisse in the passenger seat.

“And he’s gone. How surprising.” Chris groaned, realizing that Luke was in his own little world. Silena chuckled, seeing Luke’s dazed expression next to Chris’ blank stare of frustration.

As a child of Aphrodite, and friend to the former couple, she often fell victim to Castellan’s bouts of love and sadness. She’d watched him ramble about how gorgeous you looked, wishing he could kiss you the way he used to. But, she had also let him lean on her shoulder, crying into the stars about how he’d follow you anywhere.

On the other hand, she knew how deeply it hurt you to break up with the golden boy. You had only done it out of fear, your recent nightmares pointing to a quest of some kind. You were scared. Scared of how the quest would turn out, and even more scared of how Luke may handle it, so you broke up with him.

You tried to ignore your guilt, but it kept coming back to taunt you. Your plan was to fix that today.

The car slowed to a halt, and the music was turned down, effectively stopping your singing and jumping. Clarisse leaned her elbow on the passenger seat, looking back to her friends with a smirk. “Alright bitches, our vacation has officially begun.”

The car filled with excited cheers, and in a mad rush to get out the car, everyone found themselves basking in the warmth of Jones Beach. The heat was refreshing, in a sense; a reminder that they were out of camp grounds and free to do as they pleased.

Y/n ran off to the edge of the water, her bags long forgotten in her excitement to be near the sea. She stood there, grinning at the waters edge, with a white coverup hiding her swimsuit from view.

“Come on Y/n, show us the swimsuit!” Clarisse whistled to you, earning a soft chuckle as she carried over your stuff. Since the breakup, you and Clarisse had become closer friends, jokingly flirting with each other and pushing each other’s buttons. You’d grown to find comfort in her mask of aggression, knowing that she was a true friend deep down.

“Don’t get too excited!” You yelled back to her, wiggling your shoulders exaggeratively and earning laughs from your group of friends.

As the laughing began to die, you untied your coverup, letting it drop to the ground dramatically. Clarisse and Chris whistled, Silena clapping and hooting in a bout of approval; but Luke sat there, eyes wide with adoration, trying—and failing—not to stare for too long.

You were wearing a light blue one piece, made with a perfect bow in the center of your chest. It hugged your hips comfortably, and he watched as you spun in a circle to show your friends the whole thing.

It was nothing revealing, nor outlandish, it was just such a reflection of you. The sweet, soft, bow-loving girl he always knew.

And he needed you, unlike anything in the world. He needed you now, and forever.

⋆·˚ ༘ *👒

The first two hours of your beach trip were spent splashing each other and swallowing too much ocean water. Most recently, you played water chicken on Silena’s shoulders, with Chris fighting against you on Luke’s. The ravenette spared glances at you every few seconds, making Chris lose to a solid push right to his chest. The boys splashed and laughed in a faux rivalry, throwing random accusations as to why they had lost, and you watched them lovingly as you made your way out of the water.

You decided you wanted to sunbathe for a bit, growing tired of the endless swimming and dunking your friends into the water. Sunbathing was much more relaxing, and it would give you time to read the book you’d been meaning to start.

Watching as you laid down on your towel, Luke slowly stopped splashing Chris. Even he would admit it was creepy, how often he stopped to look at you, but this time he couldn’t help but indulge. His heartbeat sped up with every passing second, wanting nothing but to walk through the sand and be with you. Wanting love. Wanting you. Wanting things to be normal again.

“Chris, I’ll be back in a bit.”

Chris shrugged, already knowing where his friend would go.

The child of Hermes swam up to the shore, anxiously walking up to the spot where you lay. You could feel his presence before you saw him, and your heart tightened as he took a seat right beside you.

“Y/n.” He said gingerly, trying not to let his anxiousness bleed into his words.

“Hey hero.” You sighed softly in return, sitting up to face him properly. You knew that he wanted to talk, and you knew you needed to. You made a mistake in breaking up with him, and he deserved to know. But, just as your lips parted, his own words came spilling out.

“I miss you, Y/n.” He began, taking a deep breath, “You were—and you still are—the best thing to ever come out of this shitty life of being a half-blood. You—You are gentle, and kind, and soft, and I can be slow with you. I can live and love slow with you.”

His words made your heart stutter, your breathing going shallow with the weight of it all. You looked down at your feet, tears threatening to fall, as he rambled about you.

“You are my angel, my flower, my sun and my stars. I would follow you anywhere, Y/n, but I have to know why…” He paused, swallowing any fear left in his stomach, “Why wouldn’t you follow me?”

His final words came out in a solemn whisper, one that made you shiver with guilt at how you’d hurt this poor boy. What you thought would help had only harmed the both of you, and now, you were paying for it; paying for the way he loved you so unconditionally.

“I want to, Luke.” You whispered, tears landing on your towel beneath you.

Luke felt his heart shatter. He watched as you wiped away tears stiffly, trying to hide the way you slowly broke in front of him. With a cautious hand, he reached up to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb the way he always did when you cried. His calloused hand felt like it melted into you, a sensation so familiar that it made you cry harder. You missed him. You missed this, and the way he held you.

So you leaned in, bringing a hand to the side of his neck. He looked into your eyes, tearful and soft, and planted a passionate kiss on your shaking lips. The butterflies in your stomach awoke from their slumber, and your lips molded to his in the same way they used to. You tasted like strawberries and vanilla, and he brought you in further to taste you just a bit more.

“I want to, Luke.” You breathed, “I want to follow you anywhere.”

#luke x reader #luke castellan #ex girlfriend #ex boyfriend #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #demeter #hermes #luke castellan x reader #x reader #beach trip #beach episode #aesthetic #longing

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itsthecline · 5 months ago

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styling

maybank!reader x rafe cameron

maybank!reader takes pride in the way she looks. she thrifts most of her clothes and upcycles. once they get pougelandia 2.0 up and running , she has full intentions on selling some clothes as well. she wants kids on the cut to be able to have fun clothes for affordable prices.

most days she’s wearing a swimsuit and something to cover up her bottom or top half for hanging out or running quick errands, but when she’s dressed up to do something it was always different. she’s got so many clothing items it was nearly impossible for her to ever wear an outfit twice.

lots of colors and textures ; beads , sequins , embroidery & lace were staples. often times she goes with the small top , big bottoms vibe. flowy and layers!

she has always been into jewelry , and her collection over the years has become more than abundant. when she was with rafe , her jewelry box became three due to him buying any pieces he thought she could like. most of the things he bought her were retired after they broke up. she was always wearing some sort of metal whether it was rings , bracelets , earrings , necklaces , or a mixture of all of them. her starfish earrings were her favorite ; thankfully she was able to keep track of them at pougelandia.

strong believer in her having a simple , gold nose ring.

taglist @maybankslover @annatartastic @maroonz @ravenmedows @yootvi @icaqttt

#styling #twin maybank!reader #maybank!reader #ex girlfriend!reader #pogue!reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader

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elryuse · 1 month ago

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불장난 Playing With Fire

Yuna X Male Reader

Tags : Ex Girlfriend Yuna, Teasing, Kissing, Pretty Toxic And Slightly Weird Romance, Fluff, Pregnant? Marriage?

Words : 8,557 Words

You always thought the first time you met Yuna would be burned into your memory forever. The sparkle in her eyes, the way her laugh could fill a room, and how effortlessly she made you feel like the only person in the world. That was before. Before the lies, the heartbreak, and the shattered trust. Now, every memory of her feels distant, like a faded photograph buried in the back of your mind. You’ve tried to move on, to live your life without the weight of her betrayal pressing down on your chest.

But fate has a cruel sense of humor.

It’s an ordinary evening when you see her again. The streets are busy with the hum of traffic, and the golden glow of the setting sun reflects off car windows. You’re standing at the corner, waiting for the light to change, when you catch a flash of fiery red out of the corner of your eye. You glance over, and your heart skips a beat.

It’s her. Yuna.

Only, it’s not the Yuna you remember. Gone is the soft brown hair that used to fall in gentle waves down her shoulders. Now, her hair is a striking, fiery red, cut shorter, framing her face with an edge that screams confidence. Her figure, once curvier, is now more toned and petite, as if she’s carved herself into something entirely new. She’s wearing a leather jacket over a simple black dress, and her boots click sharply against the pavement as she crosses the street.

Your instinct is to look away, to pretend you didn’t see her. After everything that happened, the last thing you want is to reopen old wounds. But then, her eyes meet yours, and you know it’s too late.

“...Y/n?” she says, her voice softer than you expect.

You hesitate, debating whether to respond. “Yuna,” you finally say, your tone neutral, guarded.

Her lips curve into a small smile, but there’s something behind it—something you can’t quite place. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d run into you here,” she says, stepping closer.

You take a step back without meaning to, creating just enough distance to feel like you’re still in control. “It’s a big city,” you reply. “I guess it was bound to happen eventually.”

She tilts her head, studying you like you’re some puzzle she can’t quite figure out. “You look good,” she says, her eyes scanning you briefly. “Different, but… good.”

You resist the urge to scoff. “Thanks,” you say curtly. “You, too. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

She grins, brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear. “Yeah, the hair’s new. And I’ve been working out more. Needed a fresh start, you know?”

You nod, though you don’t really know what to say to that. The light changes, and the crowd around you begins to move. You take a step toward the crosswalk, hoping she’ll take the hint and let you go.

“Y/n, wait,” she says, reaching out to lightly touch your arm. The contact sends a jolt through you, and you pull back instinctively. Her smile falters for a moment, but she recovers quickly. “Can we talk? Just for a minute?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say firmly. “There’s nothing left to talk about.”

“Come on,” she says, her voice almost pleading. “It’s been, what, a year? Can’t we just… I don’t know, catch up? As friends?”

Friends. The word feels bitter on your tongue. You shake your head. “We were never just friends, Yuna. You know that.”

Her expression softens, and for a moment, she looks like the Yuna you used to know—the one who could make you smile no matter how bad your day had been. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “For everything. I know I screwed up, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I miss you, Y/n. I miss us.”

You feel your chest tighten, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. “You don’t get to say that,” you say, your voice low but firm. “You don’t get to miss us when you were the one who destroyed it.”

She flinches, and for a brief moment, you think you see tears glistening in her eyes. But then she straightens, her fiery hair catching the last rays of sunlight. “You’re right,” she says, her voice steadier now. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I’ve changed, Y/n. I’m not the same person I was back then.”

You want to believe her. A part of you—some small, foolish part—still wants to believe that the girl you fell in love with is still in there somewhere. But you can’t forget the pain she caused, the way she broke your heart and left you to pick up the pieces on your own.

“I’m glad you’ve changed,” you say finally. “But that doesn’t change what happened. And it doesn’t mean we can go back to the way things were.”

She nods slowly, her eyes dropping to the ground. “I get it,” she says. “I just… I just wanted to see you. To tell you I’m sorry.”

The sincerity in her voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. Finally, you sigh and take a step back. “Take care of yourself, Yuna.”

With that, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing there on the sidewalk. As you disappear into the crowd, you can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t the last time you’ll see her.

And deep down, you’re not sure if that thought scares you—or excites you.

The knock on your door is sudden, sharp, and entirely unexpected. You freeze mid-sip of your morning coffee, the sound cutting through the quiet hum of your apartment like a knife. Three rapid raps, followed by silence. Your eyes dart to the clock on the wall—it’s barely 8 AM. Who the hell could that be?

Setting your mug down cautiously, you make your way to the door, peeking through the peephole before opening it. And there she is: Yuna.

Your ex-girlfriend. The woman who shattered your heart into a thousand irreparable pieces years ago. She stands there, radiant as ever, her fiery red hair catching the sunlight, her lips curved into that familiar smirk that used to make your stomach flip. Now, all it does is twist into knots.

“Hey,” she says casually, as if it’s totally normal for her to show up at your doorstep after all this time. “Long time no see.”

You blink, stunned into silence. Of all the people you thought might show up unannounced at your door this early in the morning, Yuna was not on the list. “What are you doing here?” you finally manage, your voice more curt than you intended.

She shrugs, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe like she owns the place. “I live next door now. Figured I’d come say hi.” Her tone is light, almost playful, but there’s something in her eyes—something burning, intense, calculated. It makes your skin prickle.

“You live… next door?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly. This has to be some kind of joke. Or a nightmare. Either way, you don’t like it.

“Mhm,” she hums, nodding. She steps past you into your apartment without waiting for an invitation, her floral perfume lingering in the air as she moves. It’s the same scent she always wore when you were together, and it hits you like a punch to the gut. “Saw your name on the mailbox the other day. Small world, huh?”

“Small world, my ass,” you mutter under your breath, closing the door behind her reluctantly. “This isn’t a coincidence, Yuna. What are you really doing here?”

She turns to face you, her expression softening as she takes a step closer. “I told you. I’m your neighbor now. And… maybe I wanted to see you. Is that so bad?”

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, creating a barrier between the two of you. “Yeah, actually. It is. We haven’t spoken in years. Not since—” You cut yourself off, the memory of what she did still raw, even after all this time.

Her smile falters, and for a moment, she looks genuinely remorseful. “I know, Y/n. I know I hurt you. I was stupid, selfish, and I regretted it the second it happened. You have no idea how much I’ve beat myself up over it.”

“Not enough, apparently,” you snap, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice. “If you had any respect for me, you wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

She flinches at that, her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. But then she squares her shoulders and meets your gaze head-on. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t be here. But the truth is, I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. And I know you probably hate me, and maybe you should, but… I needed to try. To see if there’s any chance we could start over.”

You stare at her, your mind racing. Start over? After everything? She can’t possibly be serious. And yet, the look in her eyes tells you she is. Dead serious.

“Yuna,” you say slowly, picking your words carefully. “We’re not the same people we were back then. And even if we were, what you did… that’s not something you just ‘start over’ from.”

She nods, swallowing hard. “I know. And I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight. But… can we at least try to be civil? As neighbors? Maybe even… friends?”

The word hangs in the air between you, heavy with implications. Friends. Yeah, right. Friends don’t do what she did. Friends don’t destroy trust the way she did. And yet, looking at her now, with her wide, pleading eyes and perfectly pouty lips, it’s hard to stay mad. Harder than you want to admit.

“I don’t know, Yuna,” you say finally, sighing. “This is… a lot.”

“I get it,” she says quickly. “And I’ll give you all the space you need. But just… promise me you’ll think about it, okay? Think about us.”

Before you can respond, she steps forward, closing the distance between you. For a second, you think she’s going to kiss you—and part of you wants her to, despite everything. But instead, she simply brushes her fingers lightly against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine.

Then she’s gone, slipping out the door as quickly as she came, leaving you standing there, confused, annoyed, and—damn it—curious.

Over the next few days, Yuna becomes impossible to ignore. Every time you leave your apartment, she’s there, whether it’s in the hallway, by the elevator, or even at the gym. She’s always polite, always friendly, but there’s an underlying tension that neither of you acknowledges. A tension that grows thicker with each passing day.

Tonight, though, she crosses a line.

You’re in the middle of cooking dinner when she knocks on your door again, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a coy smile on her face. “Hi,” she says sweetly. “Thought you might want some company tonight.”

You raise an eyebrow, holding the spatula in your hand like a weapon. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” she replies, pushing past you into the kitchen. “Smells amazing, by the way. What are we having?”

“Steak,” you say automatically before catching yourself. “Wait, no. I’m having steak. You’re interrupting my dinner.”

She grins, setting the wine bottle on the counter and grabbing a corkscrew from the drawer like she belongs here. “Oh, come on. You can’t eat all that by yourself. Besides, we need to talk.”

“About what?” you ask warily, watching as she expertly uncorks the bottle and pours two glasses.

She hands you one, her fingers brushing against yours in a way that feels far too intentional. “About us. About… what happens next.”

You take a sip of the wine, mostly to buy yourself time to think. “There is no ‘us,’ Yuna. Not anymore.”

She leans against the counter, her body language relaxed but her eyes intense. “That’s where you’re wrong. There’s always been an ‘us.’ Even when we weren’t together, even when I screwed everything up… there was always something between us. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words stick in your throat because… god damn it, she’s right. There is something between you. Something electric, magnetic, undeniable. And it’s been there from the moment she showed up at your door.

But you can’t let her know that. Not yet.

Instead, you set your wine glass down and turn back to the stove, flipping the steak with more force than necessary. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Yuna.”

She laughs softly, the sound low and sultry. “Maybe. But you’ve always liked danger, remember?”

Your grip tightens on the spatula. Remember? How could you forget? She’s reminding you on purpose, and it’s working. Memories flood your mind—her hands on your skin, her lips on yours, the way she used to whisper your name in the dark.

“Dinner’s ready,” you say abruptly, plating the steak and handing her a plate. If nothing else, maybe eating will shut her up.

But as the two of you sit down at the table, the tension only grows thicker. Every glance, every brush of skin, every shared laugh sends sparks flying. By the time you finish eating, the air between you is charged, crackling with unspoken desire.

“Thanks for dinner,” Yuna says, standing up and moving closer to you. “It was… delicious.”

She’s not talking about the food, and you both know it.

You stand too, your heart pounding in your chest as she reaches out, her fingertips grazing your jawline. “Yuna,” you warn, your voice husky.

“Yes?” she whispers, her lips dangerously close to yours.

“Don’t—”

But before you can finish, she closes the gap, her mouth crashing into yours like a tidal wave.

And just like that, you’re lost.

Her lips are warm, insistent, and achingly familiar. The moment she kisses you, a flood of memories rushes back—late nights tangled in sheets, whispered promises, the way her body fit perfectly against yours. But this isn’t that time. This is now, and despite everything, your body betrays you. Your hands instinctively move to her waist, pulling her closer as if they have a mind of their own.

Yuna deepens the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm. A soft moan escapes her throat, muffled by the heat of your mouths colliding. Her fingers weave through your hair, tugging gently but firmly, sending a shiver down your spine. She pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, her breath hot and uneven, “I’ve missed you.”

The words hang in the air like a confession, raw and unfiltered. You want to push her away, to remind yourself of why you shouldn’t be doing this, but her touch is magnetic, her presence intoxicating. Your resolve wavers, crumbling under the weight of her longing.

Her hands slide down your chest, fingertips tracing the contours of your muscles through your shirt. They pause at the hem, slipping beneath the fabric, skin meeting skin for the first time in what feels like forever. Her touch ignites something deep within you, a hunger you thought you’d buried long ago.

“Yuna,” you murmur, your voice rough with desire, “this isn’t—”

She silences you with another kiss, harder this time, more desperate. Her nails dig lightly into your sides, leaving tingling trails in their wake. When she finally breaks away, her eyes lock onto yours, blazing with something you can’t quite place—need, remorse, or maybe both. “Let me show you how much I’ve missed you,” she breathes, her voice trembling with emotion.

Before you can respond, she sinks to her knees, her hands moving to the button of your jeans. Your heart pounds in your chest, the sound deafening in the quiet room. This is wrong, a small voice in the back of your mind whispers, but it’s drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears and the way her fingers work deftly to free you from the confines of your clothing.

Her breath hitches as she takes you in, her gaze lingering for a moment before she leans forward, her lips brushing against the tip of you. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through your body, your hips jerking involuntarily. She smirks up at you, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Still sensitive, huh?” she teases, her voice low and husky.

You don’t have time to respond before she takes you fully into her mouth, her tongue swirling around your length with practiced ease. A groan escapes your lips, your hands tangling in her hair as she moves with a rhythm that leaves you dizzy. Her name falls from your lips like a prayer, barely audible over the sound of her sucking you deeper, harder.

She pulls back momentarily, looking up at you through hooded lids. “Do you remember how much you used to love this?” she asks, her voice dripping with sultry anticipation. Before you can answer, she’s swallowing you again, her lips pressing tightly around you as she works her way down your shaft.

Your knees buckle slightly, the sensation overwhelming. Her hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as she bobs her head, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The wet sounds fill the room, mingling with her soft sighs and your ragged breaths. It’s messy, desperate, and utterly consuming.

As her pace quickens, so does the ache building in your core. You’re close, too close, and the realization makes your grip on her hair tighten. “Yuna, I—”

She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down. Instead, she hums around you, the vibrations making your entire body shudder. Her eyes meet yours again, and there’s a challenge in them, daring you to let go. And you do, unable to hold back any longer.

With a strangled groan, you release, her name tumbling from your lips as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. She takes it all, her tongue lapping at you greedily until you’re completely spent, your legs trembling beneath you.

When she finally pulls away, there’s a hint of mischief in her smile, along with something softer, more vulnerable. She stands slowly, her hands resting lightly on your hips as she looks up at you. “You always did taste so good,” she murmurs, her voice thick with satisfaction.

You’re still catching your breath, your mind reeling from what just happened. There’s a part of you that wants to pull her into your arms, to feel her warmth against you. But there’s also a part that feels conflicted, torn between the past and the present, between what you feel and what you know you should do.

Yuna seems to sense your hesitation. She steps closer, her body pressing against yours, her lips brushing against your neck. “I meant what I said,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I’ve missed you. More than you could ever know.”

You swallow hard, your hands hovering at her sides, unsure whether to push her away or pull her closer. “Yuna".

She leans back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes searching yours. “Don’t think too much about it,” she says softly. “Just… let me make you feel good. Like I used to.”

Her hands slide up your chest, pushing your shirt off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Her touch is gentle, almost reverent, as she traces the lines of your body. “You’re even more beautiful than I remembered,” she admits, her voice filled with awe.

Before you can respond, she’s leading you toward the couch, her movements confident yet tender. She pushes you down gently, then straddles your lap, her thighs squeezing your hips as she leans in to kiss you again. Her lips are softer this time, more deliberate, as if she’s savoring every second.

You find your hands moving without conscious thought, gripping her waist, sliding up her back, exploring every inch of her. She lets out a soft sigh, arching into your touch, her body molding against yours like it was made to fit there.

“Tell me you want this,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice trembling with need. “Tell me you want me.”

Your heart races, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. But when her hand slips between your bodies, her fingers brushing against the growing heat between her legs, your resolve crumbles completely.

You can’t find the words to respond. Not when her body is pressed so tightly against yours, not when her hand is moving with such purpose, igniting a fire deep within you that you swore had been extinguished long ago. Instead, you let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping her hips as if holding onto them will keep you from losing yourself completely.

Yuna doesn’t wait for an answer. She doesn’t need one. The way your body responds to her touch—the way you instinctively pull her closer—tells her everything she needs to know. Her lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses that make your head spin. Each kiss is deliberate, each move calculated to unravel you further.

Her fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants, brushing against the sensitive skin of your stomach. You gasp, your grip tightening on her as she lets out a soft laugh against your collarbone. There it is, you think. That sound. That laugh. It’s been so long since you’ve heard it, but it still hits you like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of your lungs and making your heart ache in ways you don’t want to acknowledge.

“Stop thinking,” Yuna murmurs, her voice low and husky. “Just feel.”

It’s easier said than done. Your mind is racing, torn between the past and the present, between anger and desire. But then her hand slips lower, her fingers wrapping around you, and all thoughts evaporate into nothingness. A moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, and Yuna smirks against your skin, clearly pleased with herself.

“That’s more like it,” she says, her breath hot against your ear. “Let me remind you what you’ve been missing.”

Before you can respond, she’s sinking to her knees in front of you, her hands working quickly to free you from the confines of your clothes. You barely have time to process what’s happening before her mouth is on you, warm and wet and impossible to resist. Your head falls back, a strangled groan escaping your throat as her tongue swirls around you, teasing and taunting in equal measure.

God, you’ve missed this. Missed her. The way she knows exactly how to drive you wild, the way she takes you apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left but raw, unfiltered sensation. Her mouth moves expertly, drawing you deeper, her hand working in tandem to heighten every touch. You can feel the pressure building, threatening to consume you, and you force yourself to hold back, not wanting this to end too soon.

But Yuna isn’t having it. She pulls away just enough to look up at you, her eyes dark with desire. “Let go,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing. “I want to hear you.”

And then she’s taking you in again, her movements faster, more urgent. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on anything other than the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you, but it’s no use. You’re powerless against her, against the way she makes you feel. Your hips buck involuntarily, and Yuna makes a soft noise of approval, encouraging you to keep going.

The tension coils tighter and tighter until you can’t take it anymore. With a cry, you come undone, your body shuddering as waves of ecstasy crash over you. Yuna doesn’t pull away, not even when you’re spent and trembling, your legs barely able to support you. Instead, she stays where she is, her lips pressing gently against your skin as if savoring the moment.

When she finally stands, there’s a look of pure satisfaction on her face. “Welcome back,” she says softly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I was starting to think I’d lost my touch.”

You let out a shaky laugh, though your mind is still reeling. “You haven’t lost anything,” you admit, your voice hoarse. “If anything, you’ve gotten better.”

Yuna grins, clearly pleased with your admission. “Practice makes perfect,” she teases, stepping closer to press a kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on her, and it only serves to deepen the ache inside you, the need for more.

She pulls away slowly, her hands trailing down your chest as she steps back. “Now it’s your turn,” she says, her voice dripping with promise. “Don’t worry—I’ll guide you.”

You’re about to ask what she means when she turns and walks toward your bedroom, her hips swaying with every step. The sight alone is enough to make your pulse quicken, and you follow after her without hesitation, your earlier reservations forgotten.

The room is dimly lit, the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. Yuna stops at the foot of the bed, turning to face you with a look that sends a shiver down your spine. Slowly, she begins to undress, each movement deliberate, each inch of skin revealed making your mouth go dry.

When she’s fully naked, she reaches for your hand, pulling you closer until you’re standing right in front of her. “Touch me,” she whispers, her voice trembling with anticipation. “Show me you remember how.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for her, your fingers skimming over her bare skin. She sighs, leaning into your touch as you explore the curves and valleys of her body, rediscovering every part of her that once felt like home. Her breath hitches when your fingers brush over her nipples, and she arches into your touch, silently urging you to continue.

You lower your head, capturing one taut peak between your lips, and she gasps, her hands tangling in your hair. Her scent surrounds you, heady and intoxicating, and you’re desperate for more. Your tongue flicks against her, eliciting another sharp intake of breath, and you can feel her pulse quickening beneath your fingertips.

“Y/n,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please…”

You know what she wants. What she needs. And you’re more than willing to give it to her.

As if on cue, the opening notes of your favorite song drift through the speakers in the corner of the room. The melody is soft and slow, filling the space with a quiet intimacy that makes the moment feel even more significant somehow. Yuna’s eyes meet yours, and there’s something in her gaze—something tender and vulnerable—that catches you off guard.

“This song,” she says, her voice shaking slightly. “It reminds me of us. Of who we used to be.”

Used to be. The words echo in your mind, stirring memories you’d tried so hard to forget. Late-night drives, stolen kisses, whispered promises of forever. All of it comes rushing back, overwhelming you with emotions you thought you’d buried long ago.

Yuna seems to sense the shift in your mood because she reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. “We’re not those people anymore,” she admits, her voice heavy with regret. “But maybe… maybe we can be something better.”

You don’t respond—you can’t. Not when your heart feels like it’s being torn in two. But then she’s guiding you toward the bed, her touch firm yet gentle, and all you can do is follow.

The sheets are cool against your skin as you lie down, your bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs and heat. Yuna’s lips find yours again, her kiss slow and languid, as if she’s trying to convey everything she can’t put into words. And for the first time since she walked back into your life, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—she’s right.

Yuna’s fingers trail down your chest, her touch light but deliberate, sending shivers through your body. She pauses at the hem of her shirt, her gaze locking with yours as if silently asking for permission. You nod, barely able to form a coherent thought, and she pulls the fabric over her head, revealing herself to you in the soft glow of the bedroom.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur, your voice thick with desire.

She smiles, a gentle curve of her lips that makes your heart ache. “Touch me,” she whispers, guiding your hands to her waist. Her skin is warm beneath your palms, smooth and inviting, and you feel the faint tremor of her breath as you slide your hands upward.

Her breasts fit perfectly in your hands, soft yet firm, and you thumb over her nipples, eliciting a soft gasp from her lips. She arches into your touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before she opens them again, their intensity burning into you.

“Don’t stop,” she breathes, her voice trembling with need.

You don’t. You can’t. Every part of you is drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, and you lose yourself in the sensation of her skin against yours. Your fingers trace the curves of her body, exploring every inch of her with a reverent touch, as if committing her to memory all over again.

Her hands move to the waistband of your pants, her fingers deftly unbuttoning them and sliding them down your legs. The cool air brushes against your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating from her body. She straddles you, her thighs pressing against your hips, and you can feel the wetness between her legs as she grinds against you.

“God, I missed this,” she moans, her head tipping back as she rocks her hips against yours. “I missed you.”

You grip her hips, guiding her movements as your own arousal builds. Her breath comes in short, shallow bursts, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she loses herself in the rhythm. Her hands grip your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin just enough to leave marks, and the sting only adds to the fire coursing through your veins.

“Yuna,” you groan, your voice rough with desperation. “I need you.”

She leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless. “Then take me,” she murmurs against your mouth. “Take me like you used to.”

Her words ignite something primal within you, and you flip her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head. She lets out a surprised laugh, quickly replaced by a low moan as you press yourself against her, your length teasing her entrance.

“Are you sure?” you ask, your voice strained with restraint.

She nods, her eyes dark with desire. “Please,” she begs, her hips lifting to meet yours. “I need you inside me.”

You don’t need any more encouragement. With a slow, steady thrust, you enter her, both of you groaning in unison at the sensation. She’s tight, her walls clenching around you as if trying to pull you deeper, and you savor the feeling of being inside her once again.

Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as you begin to move. Each thrust is deliberate, measured, designed to draw out the pleasure for both of you. Her fingers tangle in your hair, tugging gently as she gasps your name, her voice echoing in the quiet room.

“Faster,” she urges, her nails scraping down your back. “Harder.”

You oblige, increasing your pace as her pleas grow more desperate. Her hips buck against yours, meeting each thrust with equal fervor, and the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air. Her breaths come in short, ragged gasps, her body tightening around you as she teeters on the edge of release.

“Y/N… Y/N, I’m close,” she whimpers, her voice breaking as she clings to you. “Don’t stop—please don’t stop.”

You bury your face in the crook of her neck, your lips brushing against her skin as you whisper, “Let go, Yuna. I’ve got you.”

Her climax hits her hard, her body convulsing around you as she cries out your name. The sensation sends you over the edge, and with a final, powerful thrust, you spill yourself inside her, your vision blurring as waves of pleasure crash over you.

For several moments, neither of you moves, content to simply bask in the afterglow. Her fingers stroke your back, her touch tender and soothing, and you press a soft kiss to her shoulder before finally pulling away.

She looks up at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Do you remember the first time we did this?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course,” you reply, your hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “How could I forget?”

She smiles, though there’s a sadness in her expression that makes your chest tighten. “I wish things were different,” she says softly. “I wish I hadn’t hurt you.”

“We can’t change the past,” you tell her, your fingers tracing the line of her jaw. “But maybe… maybe we can start over.”

Her eyes widen, hope flickering in their depths. “Do you mean that?”

Before you can answer, she kisses you again, her lips pouring everything she can’t say into the gesture. And as you kiss her back, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this is the second chance you’ve both been waiting

The kiss deepens, her fingers tangling in your hair as if she's afraid to let you go. You can feel her trembling beneath you, a mix of hope, longing, and fear coursing through her. When you finally pull away, your foreheads rest together, your breaths mingling in the quiet of the room.

"I mean it," you say softly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. "But if we're going to start over, things have to be different, Yuna. No secrets, no lies. We need to be honest with each other-completely."

She nods quickly, her eyes searching yours as if trying to commit every detail to memory. "I promise," she whispers. "I'll do whatever it takes to make this work, Y/n. I've lost you once, and I'm not going to make the same mistake again."

Her words tug at something deep inside you, a flicker of the love you once shared beginning to reignite. But there's still a part of you that's wary, a part that remembers the pain of betrayal and the sleepless nights spent wondering what you did wrong.

"Starting over doesn't mean forgetting," you say, your tone firm but gentle. "We both need to face what happened before we can move forward. Do you understand that?"

"I do," she says, her voice steady despite the tears welling in her eyes. "And I'll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I'm serious. I'll earn back your trust, Y/n, no matter how long it takes."

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The weight of the past hangs heavy between you, but so does the possibility of something new, something better.

"Alright," you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "Let's try."

The relief that washes over her is palpable, and she throws her arms around you, holding you close as if you might slip away at any moment. "Thank you," she murmurs against your chest. "Thank you for giving me another chance."

As you hold her, you can't help but wonder if you've made the right decision. The road ahead won't be easy-rebuilding what you had will take time, patience, and an unshakable commitment from both of you. But as you feel her heart beating against yours, you realize that some risks are worth taking.

Later that night, as the two of you lie tangled together in the sheets, Yuna's head resting on your chest, she traces lav patterns on your skin with her fingertips.

"Do you ever think about the future?" she asks softly, her voice laced with a vulnerability that catches you off guard.

"Sometimes," you admit. "Why?"

She shifts slightly, propping herself up on one elbow so she can look at you. "Because I want you to be in mine," she says, her eyes shimmering with sincerity. "I know it's too soon to say things like that, but. I need you to know how I feel. You're not just a second chance for me, Y/n. You're my only chance."

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you're left speechless. But as you look into her eyes, you realize that despite everything, a part of you still loves her-still wants to believe that the two of you can build something beautiful together.

Taking her hand in yours, you press a kiss to her palm and meet her gaze. "If we're going to do this, we take it one step at a time," you say. "No rushing, no expectations. Just us, figuring things out as we go."

She smiles, a genuine, radiant smile that makes your heart ache in the best possible way. "I can live with that," she says.

And as you lie there together, the shadows of the past slowly fading into the background, you can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope—for the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t seem so uncertain after all.

The soft rays of morning sunlight stream through the curtains, painting the room in a gentle golden hue. You stretch, feeling the pleasant soreness from the night before, and glance down at Yuna, who is still curled up against you. Her fiery red hair is a mess, splayed out across the pillow, and her lips are slightly parted as she breathes softly in her sleep.

You chuckle to yourself. She looks so peaceful, almost like the Yuna you first fell in love with—before everything became complicated. Not wanting to wake her, you gently untangle yourself from her grasp and slip out of bed.

Padding to the kitchen, you open the fridge and rummage through its contents. Eggs, cheese, a few vegetables—simple but enough for a decent breakfast. As you crack the eggs into a bowl and whisk them, you can’t help but smile at the thought of her reaction.

The smell of sizzling butter and the aroma of freshly scrambled eggs mixed with melted cheese begins to fill the apartment. You chop some green onions and sprinkle them over the eggs, adding a touch of color. The satisfying sizzle echoes through the quiet space, and before long, the scent has spread to every corner of the room.

Behind you, you hear a sleepy groan, followed by the soft rustling of sheets.

“Mm… what’s that smell?” Yuna’s groggy voice floats through the air.

You glance over your shoulder to see her sitting up in bed, her hair adorably disheveled and her eyes still half-closed. She rubs at them lazily before focusing on you, a small smile spreading across her face as she watches you at the stove.

“You’re up early,” she says, her voice teasing. “And cooking? What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” you reply, flipping the eggs onto a plate. “Just thought you might be hungry when you woke up.”

She grins, propping herself up on her elbows. “You’re full of surprises, Y/n. I don’t remember you cooking much before. In fact…” She pauses, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Didn’t your cooking use to suck?”

You snort, shaking your head as you grab a couple of plates and start plating the food. “I’ve improved, believe it or not. You’d be surprised what a person can learn when they’re fending for themselves.”

“Well,” she says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up, “I guess I’ll be the judge of that.”

As she approaches the kitchen, still dressed in your oversized shirt from the night before, she leans against the counter, watching you with a playful smirk. You hand her a plate, and she raises an eyebrow as she inspects the food.

“Eggs, cheese, green onions… simple but promising,” she says, lifting a fork.

You roll your eyes. “Just eat, critic.”

She takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. Her expression shifts, and for a moment, you can’t tell if she’s impressed or just messing with you.

“Well?” you ask, leaning against the counter opposite her.

She swallows, placing the fork down dramatically before breaking into a grin. “Not bad, chef. Not bad at all. I’d give it a solid eight out of ten.”

“Eight?” you repeat, feigning offense. “What’s keeping me from a ten?”

She tilts her head, pretending to think. “Maybe it’s missing… love?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

She grins, her eyes sparkling as she takes another bite. “But seriously, Y/n, this is good. I guess you really have changed.”

Her words carry more weight than you expect, and for a moment, the playful atmosphere gives way to something deeper. She looks up at you, her expression softening.

“You’ve grown a lot,” she says quietly. “I can see it in the way you carry yourself, the way you take care of things. It’s… inspiring.”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at her words, but you shrug it off casually. “Well, I had to grow up eventually.”

Yuna reaches across the counter, her fingers brushing against yours. “I’m glad I get to see this version of you,” she says softly.

You meet her gaze, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you. The past, the present, and the uncertain future all blur together, leaving only the fragile connection you’re trying to rebuild.

“Let’s just take it one day at a time,” you say, your voice steady.

She nods, her smile warm and genuine. “One day at a time.”

And as the morning sunlight fills the room, you realize that, for the first time in a long time, the day ahead doesn’t feel so daunting.

The decision to give Yuna another chance weighs heavily on your mind, like standing at the edge of a precipice. You’re fully aware of what’s at stake—your heart, your trust, and maybe even your peace of mind. But something about her feels different this time. Or maybe it’s the part of you that never stopped loving her, hoping against hope that this time, things might be different.

The two of you start slow, agreeing to rebuild your relationship step by step. Date nights become a regular thing—dinners, quiet walks in the park, or just staying in and watching movies together. Each moment feels like a cautious dance, balancing hope and fear, love and doubt.

One evening, you’re sitting on the couch with her, a bowl of popcorn between you and an old rom-com playing on the screen. Yuna leans against your shoulder, her hand resting lightly on your thigh. It’s a quiet, domestic moment, but your thoughts are anything but calm.

“Y/n,” she says softly, her voice pulling you from your thoughts.

“Yeah?” you reply, glancing down at her.

She hesitates, her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “Do you… still think about it? What I did?”

Her question hangs in the air, heavy and unavoidable. You let out a slow breath, your eyes drifting to the TV but not really seeing it.

“Yeah,” you admit honestly. “I think about it sometimes. It’s hard not to.”

She pulls away slightly, just enough to look at you. Her eyes are filled with guilt and fear, and you can see the words she wants to say but can’t quite bring herself to voice.

“But I’m trying,” you continue, meeting her gaze. “I’m trying to let go of the past. To focus on what we have now.”

Her hand tightens on your leg, and she leans into you again, her face pressed against your shoulder. “I don’t deserve this,” she whispers. “I don’t deserve you.”

You wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer. “Maybe not,” you say lightly, trying to ease the tension. “But I’m giving you a chance anyway. So don’t mess it up.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, but you can feel the tension in her body start to ease. “I won’t,” she promises. “I swear, Y/n. I won’t mess this up.”

The days turn into weeks, and you begin to notice the subtle changes in Yuna. She’s more thoughtful now, more attentive. She goes out of her way to show you how much she cares, whether it’s through small gestures like cooking your favorite meals or leaving little notes for you to find throughout the day.

But there are still moments when doubt creeps in—when you catch her staring off into the distance with a troubled look or when a conversation reminds you of the cracks that once broke your relationship apart.

One night, as you’re lying in bed together, you decide to confront it head-on.

“Yuna,” you say, your voice cutting through the quiet.

She turns to face you, her eyes wide and questioning. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, then pause. “Actually… I just need to ask you something.”

She nods, sitting up slightly. “What is it?”

“Why now?” you ask, your voice steady but laced with curiosity. “Why come back now, after everything?”

She takes a deep breath, her hands twisting nervously in the sheets. “Because I realized how stupid I was,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I let go of the best thing that ever happened to me, and for what? A fleeting moment of… I don’t even know what. I hated myself for hurting you, Y/n. I still do. But when I saw you again, I thought… maybe this is my chance to make it right.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, raw and unfiltered. You can see the pain in her eyes, the regret that she carries with her every day.

“I can’t promise I’ll forget,” you say, your voice soft but firm. “But I’m willing to try. As long as you’re willing to put in the effort, too.”

She nods quickly, tears brimming in her eyes. “I am. I’ll do whatever it takes, Y/n. I’ll prove to you that I’m worth it.”

You reach out, cupping her face in your hands. “You don’t have to prove anything, Yuna. Just… be honest with me. Be real. That’s all I want.”

“I will,” she whispers, leaning into your touch.

As the weeks pass, you find yourself slowly letting your guard down, piece by piece. It’s not easy—trust is fragile, and the scars of the past don’t fade overnight. But with each shared laugh, each tender moment, and each promise kept, you begin to believe that maybe, just maybe, you and Yuna can make this work.

But deep down, you know you’re playing with fire. One wrong move, one misstep, and it could all come crashing down.

And yet, as you lie beside her, her head resting on your chest and her fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin, you can’t help but think that some risks are worth taking.

For now, you’ll take it one day at a time.

The day feels surreal, the kind of quiet that makes you question how you got here. Yuna is by your side, her arms wrapped around yours as you both walk the short distance from her apartment to yours, carrying the last of her belongings.

She giggles, the sound light and musical, and leans her head against your shoulder. "It feels strange, doesn’t it?" she says, her voice filled with warmth. "Moving in together after all this time… like we’ve come full circle."

You glance at her, your emotions a tangled web. Her hair is back to the soft brown shade you once adored, framing her face in a way that makes her look like the girl you fell for all those years ago. But she’s not the same, and neither are you. The ghosts of the past linger, no matter how much effort you both put into rebuilding what was broken.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, your grip tightening slightly on the bag you’re carrying. “It’s… strange.”

Reaching your apartment, you set the bags down by the door. Yuna takes a step inside, looking around with a contented smile. She turns to you, her arms outstretched, and pulls you into a hug.

“You’ve made this place feel like home,” she murmurs, her cheek pressed against your chest.

You hesitate for a moment before wrapping your arms around her, the familiar scent of her shampoo flooding your senses. “It’s home because you’re here now,” you say, the words sounding both true and heavy.

She pulls back slightly, her eyes sparkling with emotion. “I never thought I’d get this chance, Y/n. To be with you again. To… to have a family with you.”

Her hands move to her stomach, and she caresses it gently, the motion so tender it tugs at something deep within you. Your eyes follow the gesture, and for a moment, the reality of it all washes over you like a tidal wave.

A family. A future. With her.

Your gaze shifts to the wedding ring on her finger—a symbol of the promises you made, the commitment you’re trying so hard to uphold. It feels heavy, like a chain and a lifeline all at once.

Yuna notices your silence and tilts her head, her smile soft but questioning. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say after a beat, forcing a small smile. “Just… thinking about everything. About us.”

She steps closer, her hands resting on your chest as she gazes up at you. “I know it hasn’t been easy,” she says quietly. “And I know I hurt you before. But I swear, Y/n, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. To us.”

Her words are earnest, filled with a love that feels overwhelming in its intensity. You nod, though the knot in your chest remains. “I know you will.”

She smiles again, her joy infectious as she intertwines her fingers with yours. “Let’s make dinner together tonight,” she suggests, her tone light. “You can show off those cooking skills of yours again.”

You chuckle despite yourself. “Only if you promise not to criticize too much.”

“No promises,” she teases, leaning up to kiss your cheek.

As the two of you begin unpacking her belongings, the room fills with her laughter and the faint sound of music playing in the background. She moves with a lightness you haven’t seen in years, and for a brief moment, you allow yourself to believe in the happiness you’re building together.

But as you watch her carefully place a photo of the two of you on the shelf—a relic from the early days of your love—you can’t shake the mixed feelings swirling in your chest.

You want this to work. You need it to work. But the scars of the past don’t fade so easily, and the weight of what you’re risking—your heart, your trust, your future—hangs heavily in the air.

Still, when Yuna looks at you with that radiant smile, her hand resting protectively over the life you’ve created together, you can’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, you can make it work.

For now, that’s enough.

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