#hold them close. love them deeply. keep moving forward

[paper-lilypie]

within reach

[miihho]

Can you please write the salesman next for the kind of guy?🙏🏻🙏🏻

THE KIND OF GUY

(squid game edition boys) nsfw

The Salesman

— HES THE KIND OF GUY who never expected to fall in love—his life was far too consumed by duties and endless responsibilities. Love wasn’t even a consideration, not until you appeared like a sudden burst of color in his monochrome world. At first, it was your skill that caught his attention, the way you effortlessly bested him in ddakji, round after round, slap after slap. Frustrated but undeniably impressed, he handed you a card, feigning indifference. But as you walked away, something unfamiliar stirred within him—a quiet ache, a sense of loss he couldn’t quite place.

He tried to push it aside, burying himself in his work, recruiting others, and maintaining the facade of control. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept drifting back to you. Then, one day, he saw you again, sitting at your usual spot. You hadn’t joined the game, and strangely, he felt a wave of relief he couldn’t explain. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of you, asking for just one more match. The words came out almost on their own, a fragile excuse to see you again, to hear your voice, or maybe just to keep you close for a little longer.

— He’s the kind of guy who’s spent years trapped in a monotonous cycle—lonely, unfulfilled, and carrying the weight of a life that feels directionless. Every day bleeds into the next, nothing to look forward to, nothing to hold onto. But then, somehow, he acquires you. You, with your rare kindness, your quiet care, and the sweetness that seems to radiate from your every action.

You don’t even realize what you’ve done to him, how you’ve unknowingly become the one bright spot in his otherwise dull world. He starts catching himself stealing glances at you, his gaze softening without his permission. It’s the way you move, the way you speak, the way you bring life into spaces that once felt empty.

And then there are those moments—when you laugh, or when you smile at something simple—that makes his chest tighten in ways he didn’t think were possible anymore. He smiles back without realizing it, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that feels foreign but good. You don’t just make his days better; you make him feel like maybe, just maybe, there’s still something worth living for. (He's in love)

—He’s the kind of guy who would boldly approach you, his intentions clear but unspoken. He’d ask to get to know you better, his flirting subtle at first—smiles that linger a little too long, looks that make your heart race without explanation. At first, you might be taken aback, unsure of his advances, but when he offers you something you can’t refuse, like money, your resistance crumbles. You agreed, but something in the way he looks at you makes you forget about the deal. Slowly, you start enjoying your time together more than you care to admit.

—He’s also the kind of guy who wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, not for a second. If anyone dared to claim you as theirs, especially some trash asking you out, he’d make sure they paid. He’d go to any lengths to protect what’s his, with no hesitation, no mercy. If it came to it, he wouldn’t think twice about making them disappear, just so they’d know—he was the first one, and that meant something.

But it’s not just about possessiveness. He watches over you, guards you in ways you’ll never fully see, keeping a close eye without you ever knowing. He’s always there, even when you don’t realize it—protecting you from this world that’s full of danger, keeping the darkness at bay as best as he can. It’s his silent promise to you, even if you never ask for it. He doesn’t want to see you hurt, not ever.

— He's the kind of guy who would soil his hands with blood, not hesitating for a second, if it meant protecting you from anything that threatens your peace.

— He’s the kind of guy who will make you fall for him as deeply as he’s fallen for you. He adores your smaller build against his, the way your petite hands fit perfectly when cuffed by his larger ones—it drives him wild. The contrast, the way you seem so delicate in his grasp, makes him want to claim you entirely, to make you his in every way.

But he’s not the kind of man to stop at mere affection. No, he’s the type who thrives on control. He’ll manipulate you carefully, subtly, until the thought of leaving him feels impossible—terrifying even. He wants you to need him, crave him, think of him endlessly. He’s meticulous in the way he weaves himself into your thoughts, ensuring you wake up and fall asleep with only him in mind.

And when he flirts with you, watching as your cheeks turn that irresistible shade of red, your voice faltering under his gaze—it’s everything to him. You turn into a hot, blushing mess, and he loves it. It fuels his obsession, makes him fall even harder for you, because to him, you’re the epitome of perfection. Cute, vulnerable, and entirely his.

—He’s the kind of guy who takes his time with you, the tension between you building like a carefully orchestrated symphony. When the moment feels just right—your faces close, the air thick with anticipation—he starts leaning in, his eyes locked on yours, ready to steal a kiss.

But then it hits you, the realization of what’s happening, and your face flushes a deep red. You turn away in a rush, looking anywhere but at him, your heart racing like crazy. He pauses, letting the moment linger, before chuckling softly. That low, amused laugh of his sends a shiver down your spine, and when you finally sneak a glance at him, he’s grinning.

“Cute,” he murmurs, his tone playful but laced with something deeper. Yeah, he loves teasing you—loves watching you squirm and stutter, loves the way your reactions only make you more endearing to him. And he’ll do it all over again, just to see that flustered look on your face that he can’t get enough of.

—He’s also the kind of guy who knows exactly how to manipulate you, slow and calculated, planting seeds of dependence and trust without you fully realizing it. He knows your vulnerabilities, your habits, and where to find you when you’re at your lowest.

So, when he spots you crying at your usual secluded spot, alone and trembling, he makes his move. Sitting beside you, his presence feels warm, comforting—like he’s the only safe harbor in a storm. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, his voice soft and soothing as he whispers, “There, there, it’ll be alright. I’m here.”

As you cry into his chest, he murmurs gentle reassurances, “It’s alright, baby. Cry it all out.” His hand strokes your back, his touch deliberate and grounding, and he smiles. Not the kind of smile you can see—this one is hidden, smug, satisfied. His plan is working perfectly, and you’re falling deeper into his web. And oh, how he loves it—watching you lean into him, needing him, trusting him like he’s your savior. That’s exactly where he wants you.

— He’s the kind of guy who thrives on control, especially in moments of intimacy. The kind who, with practiced ease, unclips your bra with just one hand, never breaking the intensity of your kiss. And when he pulls back, his lips hovering just above yours, he’ll smirk and whisper in that low, teasing voice, “I’m not done with you yet.”

When you bury your face into his neck, trying to stifle your moans out of shyness, he doesn’t miss a beat. The scent of his cologne and aftershave lingers, intoxicating you further, as he lets out a deep chuckle, amused at your attempt to hide.

And when he’s got you pinned beneath him, completely at his mercy, he makes sure you’re not holding back. He loves to hear you scream, loves the way his name falls from your lips like a prayer. Even when a phone call interrupts, he doesn’t stop. Oh no, he sees it as a challenge, a chance to tease you further. He’ll move slower, deeper, just to hear your breath hitch as you struggle to keep your composure.

If you try to stay professional, biting your lip to muffle the sounds threatening to escape, he’ll smirk, his pace relentless. “Go on,” he’ll purr, his voice dripping with mischief. “Try to keep quiet, baby. Let’s see how long you last.” And with that, he’ll have you unraveling, barely able to focus, completely at his mercy.

— He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t just tease you with words—he lets his actions speak louder. Even in public, fully clothed, he’ll find a way to make you lose your composure. He steps in close, his large hands resting on your waist, pulling you just enough that his hips press against yours.

That’s when you feel it—the unmistakable hardness straining against his pants, pressing firmly into you. His voice drops, low and dripping with desire, as he leans into your ear and whispers, “Feel that, baby? That’s what you do to me. You’ve got me all worked up, and I don't think I can wait any much longer."

The heat of his breath against your ear sends a shiver through you, and his bulge pressing into you makes it impossible to think straight. His grip tightens slightly, and the smirk playing on his lips tells you he’s enjoying every second of your reaction. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he loves driving you wild, even when you’re supposed to be keeping things composed.

— He's the kind of guy who leaves his mark on you, a silent declaration that you're his and his alone

— He's the kind of guy who would pin you against the wall, bite your lip, and pull your hair—taking control in a way that leaves you breathles.

—He’s the kind of guy who’ll leave you completely undone, your body trembling as you take every inch of his cock, tears streaming down your cheeks while you beg for mercy. But he doesn’t stop—he thrives on the way you break beneath him, his voice dripping with a wicked mix of praise and degradation.

“You're being such an obedient little cum slut,” his hand tilting your chin so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. “Taking me so well like a fucking whore, like you were made for my cock. My perfect little bitch.” he said, his tone low and velvety, sending shivers down your spine as he continued to fuck his cock in and out of you. Your walls clenching hard around his massive cock as he fills you up with his fat load, still pounding into your hole not letting even a single drop of his release go to waste. (He has a breeding kink)

And if that's not enough. His thick, veiny cock would plunge relentlessly into your dripping folds, the sound of wet flesh slapping against wet flesh filling the air. Each powerful thrust drives him deeper, his heavy balls smacking against your ass as he ravages your insides with unbridled lust while you're in a mating press. He is determined to make you the mother of his child, so he will pound your fertile womb over and over again until it's full of his cum. If his cum is seeping out of your pussy, he would pump it back with his fingers inside while he also plays with your swollen clit making you overstimulated as you beg him to stop. (he just fucking loves you crying and begging for him and only him. )

— Hes the kind of guy who craves more than just conception; he yearns to enslave your senses, to make your body crave the feeling of being utterly filled by him. He wants ypu to beg for his cock, to plead for the intense pleasure-pain of being stuffed to overflowing, regardless of your reproductive cycle.

The very thought of you, round and ripe with his seed, brings him unparalleled satisfaction. He delights in the idea of your addiction to his cum, to the exquisite bliss of having your cunt packed to capacity with his thick, hot essence. For him, there is no greater joy than knowing you're forever changed, forever his, your body and soul irreversibly marked by his possession.

[itendtothinkalot]

professional yearner (jake sim edition)

summary: growing up, you had two heroes: jake and sunghoon. thick and thin, chaos and crayons, they were always there. so when your ex dumped you for "being so oddly close to your best friends” well… fair. but what he didn’t get is that you never needed him. you’ve always had jake sim and maybe that was the problem.

genre: fluff | best friends to lovers | jake's a professional yearner

characters: best friend!jake x f!reader

words: 13k??

warnings: kissing? making out? thats it!

The schoolyard was too hot. The kind of heat that made your socks stick to your ankles and your patience wear thin. It smelled vaguely like cheese sticks and someone’s forgotten gym shirt. And in the middle of it all—Jake Sim was crying.

Not the loud, hiccuping kind. No. Jake cried the way the sky threatened rain—quiet, heavy, trembling on the edge. His eyes were red, his mouth pressed into a thin, brave line, and his fingers clutched a half-crushed grape soda like it might hold him together.

Across from him stood Minhyuk Kang. Middle school tyrant. Bad haircut. Worse personality. He was smirking like he’d won something.

You weren’t having it.

Your backpack hit the ground as you stormed across the yard, fists curled tight. Your heart pounded in your ears. You didn’t even think—just moved, fueled by friendship and blind loyalty.

“Hey!” you shouted, voice cracking. “Pick on someone your own size, you—oversized… loser!”

Not your best. You were eleven. Your brain was still 60% Capri Sun.

Minhyuk blinked, unimpressed. Then shoved you. Hard.

You hit the pavement with a thud, landing on your butt. Your backpack burst open–papers, pencils, and one private doodle of a sparkly unicorn horse went flying across the asphalt.

Laughter erupted around you.

And then—

That sigh.

That tired, long-suffering sigh that said “I’m getting tired of this,” from a boy who was spiritually seventy-five years old.

Park Sunghoon.

He approached with his hoodie sleeves covering his hands and his cap tilted sideways, like he couldn’t be bothered but also like he was already deciding how to fix this. He stopped beside you and glanced at the chaos—Jake’s glassy eyes, your scraped knees, Minhyuk’s dumb smirk.

Without saying a word, he gave Minhyuk a look.

The kind of look that could curdle milk. Or send boys twice his size packing.

Minhyuk flinched. Then, like the coward he was, mumbled something about catching his bus and slinked away.

You blinked up at Sunghoon. Jake sniffed beside you.

And then—without coordination, without thinking—you and Jake both lunged forward and wrapped your arms around Sunghoon at the same time.

He froze. Sighed again. But he didn’t pull away.

“I’m gonna be stuck looking after you two for the rest of my life, aren’t I?” he muttered.

You grinned into his sleeve. “Yep.”

“Definitely,” Jake added, his voice a little wobbly but smiling now.

Sunghoon didn’t say he loved you.

He didn’t have to.

The cafeteria buzzed around you—noisy, fluorescent, filled with the sound of trays clattering and people trying too hard to sound casual. Jake was nursing a carton of strawberry milk, lazily spinning it between his fingers. Sunghoon sat across from him, trying and failing to look like he wasn’t deeply regretting his protein bar.

Jake leaned over dramatically, voice pitched just loud enough to reach Sunghoon but still just out of your range. “Look at her,” he whispered, grinning. “In love. Disgusting.”

Sunghoon didn’t look up. “I give it two minutes before she makes us throw up.”

You shot them a look over your shoulder and tossed a crumpled napkin in their direction. “Shut up. I’m talking.”

Jake put on a high-pitched falsetto immediately. “‘Hi baby. No, baby, you hang up first. No, you.’”

Sunghoon chimed in, completely deadpan. “‘Babymuffin. Babylove. Babyback ribs.’”

You bit back your laugh and turned away, pressing the phone closer to your ear, trying to keep your voice soft. “No, I’m not ignoring you. I’m with Jake and Sunghoon.”

There was a pause.

Then, flat and cold: “…Again?”

Your stomach dropped. Just a little.

“I told you I’d be with them today,” you said. “It’s the championship game.”

“You said you’d try to come to my gig,” came the reply, sharper now. “You promised. But of course you’d rather play cheerleader for those two.”

“It’s not like that,” you said, your voice tightening. “I told you weeks ago this was important. They’ve worked so hard for this—”

“Jesus. Do you even care about me?” he cut in. “Or am I just the guy you date when your real boyfriends are busy?”

Your hand clenched around your phone. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re always choosing them. Every time. Like I’m your backup plan—”

“They’re my best friends.” You snapped now, barely keeping your voice down. “You knew that from the beginning.”

And that was when you noticed: the table had gone silent. Jake wasn’t spinning his milk anymore. Sunghoon’s jaw was tight. Both of them were watching you.

“And you’re supposed to be my girlfriend,” your boyfriend hissed through the line. “But I guess that means nothing to you.”

You stared down at the table.

Then, softly, with every ounce of control you had left: “You should know that Sunghoon and Jake are–.”

Click.

The line went dead.

The phone hit the table with a muted thud.

You didn’t look up. Not right away. Your arms crossed, your nails digging into your sleeves. Your heart pounded too fast, too hard, and it wasn’t even from the words. It was from how familiar this had started to feel. Like you were always apologizing for choosing the people who never made you feel like a second choice.

Jake’s voice came low, tight. “What’d that idiot say this time?”

Gone was the teasing lilt, the sunshine tone. He looked like he was one bad sentence away from marching across campus and settling it the old-fashioned way. Sunghoon nudged him under the table but Jake didn’t look away from you.

You finally glanced up, eyes tired. Your voice came quiet. “It’s your championship day. Let’s not ruin it.”

Jake held your gaze for a beat longer than necessary. His jaw flexed.

But he nodded.

For now.

—

You kept your arms crossed, head low, your gaze fixed somewhere on the cracks in the pavement. Not in a sulking way. Not even angry. Just… heavy. The kind of quiet where the world felt muffled, like someone had turned the volume down on everything.

Jake didn’t say anything. Not at first.

He just walked beside you in silence—his steps matching yours like second nature. Every few moments, the soft fabric of his hoodie brushed your sleeve, but he didn’t try to fill the quiet with noise. Just stayed close. Present. Like always.

Then, after a beat, he gently bumped your shoulder with his.

You didn’t look up, not right away. But you felt it. That familiar nudge. Like he was reminding you: hey, still here.

A few more steps passed before his voice came, light but careful.

“How many fingers am I holding up behind my back?”

You stopped walking.

Your breath hitched, just a little.

God. That game.

It used to be your thing. A childhood ritual for every scraped knee, every bad grade, every time you wanted to cry but didn’t. Jake would hold his hand behind his back and make you guess. If you got it right, you’d get a prize—usually something ridiculous. A neon sticker. A broken crayon. One time, a scribbled picture of you with superpowers and him as the hulk.

You hadn’t played that game in years.

But the second he said it, a small appeared on your lips.

You glanced sideways.

“…Seriously?”

Jake smiled. The kind that barely lifted one corner of his mouth—the one that felt like a secret. Like it was just for you.

“C’mon,” he said, eyes glinting. “Let’s see if you’ve still got it.”

You swallowed.

“Two,” you murmured.

Jake didn’t break eye contact. Just slowly turned and held out his hand behind his back, showing you—

Two fingers.

You let out the softest breath of a laugh. The kind that didn’t really sound like one. Just a shaky little puff of air. But it was enough to lighten your shoulders.

Jake grinned, triumphant. “Correct. Prize pending.”

You shook your head, a real smile threatening your lips now. “You still owe me for the time you cheated and held up zero.”

Jake’s eyes widened in mock horror. “That wasn’t cheating. That was high-level psychological warfare.”

“You made me do the chicken dance in front of my mom for a sticker.”

“You did it twice.”

“You said the first one lacked commitment.”

Jake was laughing now, soft and golden, and you couldn’t help it. You laughed too. Quiet. Cracked around the edges. But real.

The silence between you didn’t feel heavy anymore.

He tilted his head toward the lecture hall ahead. “Go grab a seat,” he said softly. “I’ll get you a coffee.”

You blinked. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said, already backing away. “Unless you’d rather have emotional support gummies.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was warm. “Coffee, please.”

Jake gave you a little salute—two fingers, same as before. “Coming right up, princess.”

You stood there for a beat too long, then finally made your way into the lecture hall, choosing a seat near the back. You slung your bag down beside you and reached into your pocket, fingers brushing something crinkly.

You frowned. Pulled it out.

Your favorite candy.

The exact brand. The exact flavor. Not something you’d had on you today.

Your breath caught.

Jake.

He must’ve slipped it into your pocket when he bumped your shoulder. Probably while you were distracted. Quiet. Thoughtful. Stupidly considerate.

You stared at the wrapper like it meant something. Like it said everything he couldn’t.

You tucked it into your bag gently, like it was something precious.

Outside, somewhere in a line too long for a Tuesday afternoon, Jake was probably ordering your coffee with extra sugar and exactly two pumps of vanilla.

Because of course he remembered.

Of course he always did.

And maybe you didn’t say it out loud.

But in that moment—you didn’t feel so heavy anymore. Because no matter what, you had Jake.

—-

The bleachers vibrated beneath your feet, alive with nervous energy. Late afternoon sunlight poured across the field in gold streaks, turning everything too bright, too cinematic. You stood at the railing beside Niki and Sunoo, fingers curled tight around the metal bar, heart pounding harder than the game announcer’s voice overhead.

Your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

Are you seriously ditching my gig for those two idiot friends of yours?Again? Really?You’re always doing this.You say I'm important, but it’s always them.You’re not dating them. You’re dating ME.

You rolled your eyes.

There was no use replying. You’d tried. He never got it.

Jake and Sunghoon weren’t just friends.

They were everything. They were your history. They were your present. They were scraped knees and matching science fair disasters. They were the reason your parents felt safe sending you to college. They were Sunday family dinners and sleepovers that never really ended.

They were home.

And okay—maybe your gaze drifted toward Jake a little more than it should’ve lately. Maybe it always had. Not in a way you noticed at the time. Not in a way that meant anything.

Just… in a way. As a friend, cf course. He was just…always sweet. What could you do?

Your eyes found him instantly.

Jake—number 10.

Sunlight caught the edges of his hair, wind tugging at the loose strands near his ears. His jersey clung to him, damp with sweat, legs quick and sure as he shouted across the field. His eyes were locked in, his whole body moving with this reckless kind of energy that made him hard to look away from.

Not that you were trying to look away.

You shook your head and scanned the field again, trying to find Sunghoon—but your gaze found Jake instead.

Again.

The crowd roared as the clock ticked down. 2–2. Final minute. The tension in the air buzzed through your chest like a live wire.

“I can’t watch,” Sunoo muttered beside you, peeking between his fingers. “He’s gonna pass out.”

“Shut up,” Niki hissed. “It’s getting good.”

Your eyes tracked Jake’s every step. He had the ball now—legs moving like water, flowing past defenders like they weren’t even there. Sunghoon flanked beside him, silent and steady, drawing players away.

Then Jake cut sharp to the left.

A beat.

A breath.

And then he kicked.

The ball soared.

Time stopped.

It flew past the goalie—clean, sure—and hit the net with a glorious, perfect thwack.

Silence.

And then chaos.

The stadium erupted. Teammates swarmed the field, screaming, leaping, colliding into Jake like a tidal wave of celebration. People were crying. Someone was waving a flag. You might’ve blacked out for a second.

But Jake—Jake didn’t stay buried in the huddle.

He pulled himself out.

Looked up.

And saw you.

And then, he ran.

Straight through the chaos, through teammates and coaches and cheering fans.

Right to you.

“PRINCESS, DID YOU SEE THAT?!” he yelled, already grinning like he couldn’t contain it.

You didn’t even think.

You ran.

You jumped into his arms—legs around his waist, arms around his neck—and he caught you like gravity didn’t exist between the two of you.

He spun you around, both of you laughing, breathless and weightless in the middle of a stadium filled with noise.

“That was insane, right?!” he said, still spinning, still grinning like a madman.

“You’re insane!” you yelled back. “That’s my best friend!!”

He held you tighter for a second.

You barely noticed how close you were. How steady his hands felt against your waist. How natural it felt to be in his arms.

You didn’t think too much about the way your laugh curled into something softer as he smiled at you. Or how your fingers lingered at the back of his neck just a moment too long.

You were just happy.

And Jake?

Jake was still looking at you like you’d hung the stars yourself.

But then you saw him.

At the edge of the crowd.

Your boyfriend.

He was standing stiffly, guitar slung over his back, eyes dark. He looked right at you. Then at Jake.

Then back at you.

And you saw it happen—saw the confirmation of every suspicion he’d ever thrown at you. Every insecure question. Every argument. Every pointed “you’re always with them.”

His jaw clenched.

And then he mouthed it.

Two words. Sharp. Final.

We’re done.

And he turned.

—-

The door slammed open behind you with enough force to shake the picture frames.

You didn’t check to see if Jake and Sunghoon were behind you. Of course they were. You could hear their footsteps trailing in, less hurried than yours but tinged with the same confused urgency. Like golden retrievers caught in a rainstorm—uncertain, blinking, too loyal to run.

“I cannot believe he dumped me!” you snapped, flinging your bag onto the floor like it had betrayed you. “He. Mr. Can't-Name-Three-Films-By-Studio-Ghibli. Mr. ‘I think astrology is fake but also I’m a Scorpio so that’s just how I am.’”

You kicked your shoes off, one of them narrowly missing the umbrella stand.

Jake ducked.

Sunghoon raised his eyebrows and wisely stayed quiet.

“I mean,” you huffed, voice going up a pitch as you spun toward them, “he plays the same three songs on guitar and called Christopher Nolan ‘overrated.’ And he—that man-child with a Spotify playlist called ‘sad vibez’ and no vowels—broke up with me?!”

Sunghoon winced. Jake looked like he was watching a house on fire and wondering if throwing himself into it would help.

You threw your hands up in disbelief. “I was going to dump him! I had a list! A literal note in my phone! And this man—this emo scarecrow of a boyfriend—had the audacity to beat me to it?!”

You stormed to the living room and collapsed onto the couch like it owed you reparations, arms flung over your face as you let out a long, frustrated groan.

“I can’t believe this. He said I was emotionally unavailable. Me! The girl who went to all his stupid open mic nights and pretended his lyrics weren’t just stolen posts from 2018 Twitter in stupid long verses.”

In the hallway, Jake leaned toward Sunghoon.

“Should we, like… say something?”

Sunghoon didn’t even look away from you. “Absolutely not.”

Jake frowned. “You’re the stable one. You talk to her.”

“You’re the one in love with her.”

Jake made a wounded sound in the back of his throat. “That’s not—I mean—I’m—”

“You literally made her tea last night and wrote her name on the mug in sharpie like a loser.”

Jake whispered, “It was a nice mug.”

You sat up abruptly, glaring at them like a storm cloud with a vendetta. “HEY. Tweedle Dee. Tweedle Dum. Shut the hell up. I’m having a justified crisis.”

They both stiffened like they’d been caught shoplifting.

You threw yourself back onto the couch again, dramatically draping your arm across your face.

Silence.

Then—

“She definitely just called us Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum,” Jake whispered.

“You’re Dum,” Sunghoon replied flatly.

“At least I didn’t cry watching Tangled.”

“…You said you wouldn’t bring that up again.”

“Then stop being Dum.”

You let out a guttural groan. “Can one of you just bring me ice cream or, like, a time machine so I can go back and tell myself to swipe left?”

Another pause.

Then quiet footsteps.

And a moment later, something cold landed in your lap.

Your favorite ice cream.

Jake didn’t say a word. Just sat on the floor in front of the couch, back leaning against it like it was the most natural thing in the world, head tilted slightly to look up at you.

He didn’t smile. Not fully. Just that soft, familiar curve of his lips that you’d seen a thousand times, always reserved for you. The kind that didn’t ask for anything, didn’t demand a response—just offered quiet presence.

Sunghoon dropped onto the floor beside him with a sigh, already scrolling through Netflix.

And you?

You breathed. For the first time all day, you breathed.

It didn’t erase the anger. Didn’t fix the betrayal. Didn’t un-stupid your ex.

But it made your chest ache a little less.

Because even in your most unhinged, spite-fueled, mascara-streaked moments—you still had this.

You had your boys.

—-

Your room was quiet, except for the low hum of the party a few buildings down—the bass thudding like a heartbeat through the floorboards, too far to join, too loud to ignore.

The fairy lights on your wall glowed soft and golden, casting little halos across your shelves, your pillows, the stack of unread books by your bed.

You sat cross-legged on your comforter, oversized hoodie bunched around your hands, hair damp from your post-meltdown shower. There was still a tightness in your chest, the kind that didn’t quite hurt, but hadn’t let you breathe fully in days.

Sunghoon stood behind you, a hairbrush in his hand.

“You sure you don’t wanna go?” he asked, gently easing the brush through the tangles near your crown.

You shrugged, slow and small. “And see him all over her? I’d rather chew glass.”

Her—being the bass player in your ex’s band. The one he swore was “just a friend” until he posted a ten-second Instagram story of himself shoving his tongue down her throat. Classy.

Honestly, you still didn’t know what you ever saw in that idiot.

Sunghoon sighed. You felt it more than you heard it—low and long, his breath ruffling a strand of your hair.

He didn’t say anything else. Just kept brushing, slow and steady, like he could detangle your hurt the way he was detangling the ends of your hair.

He always did this.

Ever since you were ten and crying after a costume mishap in the school play. He’d walked you home, sat you down, and—wordlessly—grabbed the brush from your desk. He’d been doing it ever since. Whenever your heart cracked, he patched it up strand by strand.

He even used your products now. Knew the exact amount of leave-in conditioner. Knew how to finger-detangle without tugging too hard. Knew when to talk—and more importantly, when not to.

You sat still, head tilted slightly forward, letting the rhythm lull you. The brush paused near the ends.

Then came the voice.

Quiet. Measured. A little softer than usual.

“He didn’t make you happy.”

You opened your mouth. But before anything could come out—

“Not once,” Sunghoon continued. “You bent so far backwards for him I was scared your spine would snap. And he never once met you halfway.”

You stared at your lap. Said nothing.

“I know it’s only been two days,” he said, letting out a little laugh, “but honestly? The air’s been easier to breathe without him around. Jake and I Fortnite danced to High School Musical in the living room earlier. Jake even tried to do a backflip.”

You snorted. Couldn’t help it.

Sunghoon grinned behind you. “Almost died. But I’ve never seen the boy look so free.”

You hummed, lips twitching faintly. “He wasn’t that emo.”

“He had stupid hair,” Sunghoon said flatly. “And he smelled like cigarettes and insecurity.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

“He called The Wind Rises boring,” you muttered.

Sunghoon gasped, mock horror in his voice. “Criminal. Unforgivable.”

He gently brushed the last of your hair over your shoulder, like a finishing touch. Then crouched in front of you, eye-level now.

And when he spoke next, the teasing was gone.

“You are the actual sun,” he said softly. “And he made you feel like a flickering lightbulb. That’s not love. That’s dimming someone just to feel taller.”

Your eyes stung, just a little.

Sunghoon didn’t flinch. He never did, when it came to you.

“I hated him from the beginning. Jake started calling him ‘the ashtray’ after the second time we all hung out. Not even behind his back. Just… said it.”

That made you laugh—truly laugh—for the first time in days. You shook your head. “You two are mean.”

“We’re honest,” Sunghoon corrected, getting to his feet. “And we love you. More than that guy ever could.”

You didn’t answer. Just looked at him.

And he didn’t say anything more.

Didn’t need to.

You let your head fall back against the headboard and sighed. “Okay. If you keep monologuing in my ear like this, I’m never gonna change.”

“Change?”

“You want me to go to this stupid frat party, don’t you?”

He smirked.

“Get out,” you said, pointing at the door. “Shoo. Go do your weird little victory dance with Jake.”

He walked backward, ruffling your hair on the way like a proud big brother. “She’s back,” he sing-songed, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Not if you keep talking.”

He opened the door with a dramatic bow. “I’ll tell Jake you caved.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered even after he was gone.

And yeah, your heart was still cracked.

But it felt a little less sharp now.

A little easier to carry.

And when you looked at your reflection in the mirror, your hair brushed smooth, cheeks still warm from laughter—

You didn’t look like a girl trying to forget.

You looked like someone learning how to feel light again.

—

As soon as Jake stepped through the door, he barely made it three steps before he was swallowed by chaos.

“JAKE! JAKE! JAKE!”

A rush of frat boys and soccer teammates surged toward him, loud and reckless, lifting him up like some war hero. His legs kicked midair as they carried him toward the heart of the party, chanting his name with increasing volume.

“JAKE! JAKE! MVP! MVP!”

Fairy lights spun above him, casting halos over sweat-damp foreheads. The bass pulsed through the floor, the air thick with beer and adrenaline and championship glory. Jake laughed, a little breathless, a little panicked.

“No—no, I’m good, I swear—”

Then… you saw him. Your ex. And her.

They were near the kitchen—your spot. The one you always waited at after his gigs. The one where he used to pull you into those tired, post-show hugs and whisper how glad he was you came. Now? He was there with her. Arm thrown over her shoulder like it belonged there. Like it hadn’t been around you last week. She was laughing like she’d earned it. Like she hadn’t been “just a friend” two seconds ago.

And the worst part? He looked fine. Smiling. Relaxed. Comfortable.

You weren’t sad. You didn’t miss him. But god, you were angry.

He moved on like you were an old t-shirt. Like you didn’t matter. Like he hadn’t just made you feel like you were the problem for weeks on end. Like he hadn’t convinced you to shrink for him—and then left anyway.

You stood there for one second. Just long enough to feel the burn in your chest. Long enough for your hands to curl into fists at your sides. Long enough for the blood in your veins to scream Really? Already?

Then you turned.

Fast.

Didn’t look back.

You didn’t know where you were going, only that the party felt too loud and too quiet all at once. People brushing past you, drinks in the air, music thumping. And still, all you could hear was your own pulse.

“SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!”

You blinked—and somehow, it was your voice leading the chant.

Your heels dug into the floor. Your lip gloss was smudged. There was probably mascara under your eyes. You didn’t care. You didn’t want to care.

Someone handed you a shot. You didn’t ask what it was. You downed it like medicine.

It burned. But that was the point.

You slammed the glass down on the nearest surface. “ANOTHER!” you shouted, voice cracking, spinning in place. “Let’s go! If I’m gonna be replaced, I might as well be unforgettable!”

Someone whooped. Someone clapped. Someone handed you another.

You tossed it back.

You weren’t spiraling. You were burning.

And the only thing worse than being dumped… Was being replaced this fast. Like you didn’t even leave a dent.

You were angry.

Angry that he got to be fine. Angry that she got to stand where you used to. Angry that your hands still shook while his were busy holding someone else.

And yeah, you’d moved on too. You didn’t want him back. Not for a second.

But it still felt like something had been stolen from you.

And you needed control. Any kind.

So when someone handed you another shot, you took it. And when someone said, “You okay?” you laughed so hard it echoed. Loud, sharp, cracked.

“Never better,” you said, the words tilting sideways like your balance.

And then he stumbled toward you.

Tall. Drunk. Slurring your name like he knew you. Like he mattered.

“Hey,” he grinned, “you’re the girl Jake never shuts up about, right?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Yeah,” he said, swaying. “In the locker room. He’s always like ‘she’s so funny, she does this scrunchy angry face when she’s mad,’ and like… he’s totally into you.”

Your stomach twisted—but your face didn’t budge.

“Cool,” you muttered. “Love being a conversation topic.”

“He thinks you’re amazing,” the guy said, nodding like he just solved world peace. “Hey—have you ever considered going bald?”

You stared. “Excuse me?”

He squinted. “I bet you’d look hot with a buzzcut. You have a strong jaw. That’s what matters, right?”

And maybe it was the alcohol. Or the smoke in the air. Or the ache in your ribs.

But you laughed. Loud. Too loud. And you grabbed his wrist.

“Got scissors?” you asked.

He blinked. “Uh. Yeah?”

“Bring them. Let’s find out.”

He stumbled into the kitchen drawer and came back, holding up a dull pair of kitchen scissors like a prize.

You snatched them, raised them in the air. “Thank you, brave soldier,” you said dramatically. “Now go lay down before you die of alcohol poisoning.”

And you turned, marching up the stairs like a woman with a mission and a pair of scissors she had no business holding.

Jake was mid-conversation when Jungwon ran up, breathless.

“Dude. DUDE. Your girl—she just went upstairs. With scissors. Talking about rebirth.”

Jake blinked. “What?”

“She said something about French bangs and reinvention and then took the stairs like a goddamn hurricane.”

Jake didn’t even think.

He ran.

Bolted through the crowd, shouldered past two people doing body shots, and took the stairs two at a time.

Because he knew you.

He knew that look. That chaos. That split-second decision to feel anything other than the helpless, boiling anger clawing through your chest.

He remembered it from middle school, when someone said your braces made you look like a robot and you tried to cut them out yourself with nail clippers. He remembered it last year, when your cat died and you bleached your bangs at 3AM.

Jake had always known your brand of chaos.

And he had always shown up before it got too far.

Now, he shoved open the bathroom door with zero hesitation.

“Don’t—”

The words died in his throat.

Because there you were.

Standing in the middle of someone else’s bathroom, scissors in hand, eyes glassy and smile way too proud.

“Jakey!” you beamed. “I did it!”

He froze.

There was a pile of hair on the counter. Your bangs—if you could call them that—sat uneven across your forehead. One was short. The other… shorter.

One eye was half covered. The other? Wide, glassy, wild.

Jake covered his mouth with both hands.

“Princess,” he whispered.

“Do I look like Tyra Banks?” you asked earnestly.

Jake blinked. Took a step forward. Then another.

And slowly—so gently—took the scissors from your hand.

His voice dropped to a hush. Steady. Calm. Familiar.

“Hey,” he said. “Let’s put these down, yeah?”

You pouted. “But I wasn’t done.”

He gave you a small smile. “You were perfect before you even started.”

Your lips parted.

His eyes searched yours, scanning every flicker of emotion you were trying to bury beneath alcohol and eyeliner and rebellion.

“You don’t need to do this,” he said. “You’re angry. I get it. I swear I get it. But cutting your bangs at a frat party is not justice.”

You blinked. The world tilted slightly.

“He moved on,” you whispered. “Like I was nothing. Like I was just a placeholder.”

Jake’s jaw tightened. His grip on the scissors hardened.

“You were never a placeholder,” he said, voice sharper now. “You were the whole damn story. He was just a footnote.”

Your eyes welled, but no tears fell. Not yet.

“You’re angry. And you have every right to be,” he said, stepping closer, his hand brushing your cheek. “But don’t punish yourself because he couldn’t see your worth.”

Your lip trembled.

“You think I’m punishing myself?” you asked.

Jake smiled softly. “Princess, look at your bangs.”

You let out a snort. A real one. Ugly and sharp and full of sudden breath.

“I look like an art student who lost a bet.”

Jake laughed. “You look like you could start a girl gang and lead a revolution.”

His voice dropped again. Gentle. Unshakable.

“But you still look like you. And you look perfect.”

You didn’t know what possessed you, but your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. Like holding onto something solid in the middle of a storm.

Jake leaned down, resting his forehead against yours.

“You don’t have to set yourself on fire to prove you're still burning,” he whispered. “You’re enough. Even when you’re mad. Even when you're messy. Even with gravity-defying bangs.”

Your breath hitched. The room stilled.

And finally, finally, your heart began to slow.

You closed your eyes.

And Jake just held you there.

Right in the middle of the chaos, in someone else's bathroom, with scissors on the counter and party noise below—

He held you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like he’d always been the one who would.

—

The next morning came quicker than you wanted. Your head throbbed, your mouth tasted like the inside of a frat house, and your body ached in weird places. But none of that mattered.

Because the second you looked in the mirror— “AAAAAAAAAAAH!”

The scream tore through the apartment like a war siren.

Sunghoon shot upright in bed, blanket wrapped around his legs like a noose. “WHAT THE—?!”

Jake fell off the couch with a dramatic thud, landing in a heap of hoodie and boxers. “SHE’S DYING, SHE’S BEING KIDNAPPED, THE LOVE OF—”

Both boys sprinted down the hallway like the apartment was on fire.

They crashed into your room, out of breath, expecting blood or a ghost or at least an explosion.

Instead, they found you standing in front of the mirror, gripping your bangs in both hands like you could physically undo last night.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” you wailed, your voice cracking halfway into a sob. “WHY DIDN’T ANYONE STOP ME?!”

Jake froze.

Sunghoon stared.

“I told you we should’ve hidden the mirror,” Sunghoon muttered.

“We have a bathroom,” Jake hissed back.

You whirled around dramatically, face streaked with tears, eyes wide and watery, holding up a sad tuft of hair like it was a smoking gun.

“I ruined my life!”

Jake opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Because, truthfully?

Your hair looked like it had been through a war. A bad one. Like a rodent got stuck halfway through building a nest and gave up. It was uneven in four different directions. The bangs… bent at angles. You defied geometry. Possibly physics.

Sure, you looked pretty. Beautiful. Perfect, even.

But that was only because Jake was in love with you.

And love had a way of turning disaster into art. Even when the art looked like a sewer rat.

Sunghoon sighed and rubbed his face. “I’ll make pancakes.”

He turned and walked out without waiting for a response. Pancakes were your household’s official emergency protocol.

Jake stayed. Still in the doorway. Still barefoot and half-asleep, but trying really hard not to laugh and even harder not to love you more for looking like this and still somehow being the most you he’d ever seen.

You looked up at him with trembling lips, eyes full of absolute heartbreak.

“I look like I lost a fight with a Edward Scissorhands.”

Jake blinked. “C’mere.”

You didn’t hesitate.

You launched yourself at him like a flying koala, knocking him flat on his back. You landed in a tangled heap of limbs and cotton and regret, curled into his chest, face shoved against his hoodie.

“I’M UGLY!” you wailed.

Jake didn’t even flinch. He wrapped his arms around you, full-on bear-hug style, holding you like he was trying to glue your shattered pieces back together.

“No, you’re not,” he murmured.

You let out a sound that was half sob, half snort, and buried your face deeper into his chest.

“You’re not ugly,” he said again, voice quieter now. “You’re the cutest person I’ve ever seen with a rat’s nest on their forehead.”

You groaned. “I look like Coconut Head from Ned’s Declassified.”

Jake snorted. Actually snorted.

Which made you groan even louder and smack his chest half-heartedly.

“I’m never going outside again,” you mumbled.

“You don’t have to,” he said. “We’ll start a new civilization here. No mirrors. Unlimited pancakes. Sunghoon and I will scavenge for food outside, bring it back here to feed you and our rat children.”

You sniffed.

“I’ll knit you a beanie,” he added. “It’ll say ‘emotional damage’ in rhinestones.”

From the kitchen, Sunghoon shouted, “There’s only enough chocolate chips for one stack, so I’m taking nominations for who’s had the most public breakdowns in the past 24 hours.”

“I CUT MY OWN BANGS AT A FRAT PARTY!” you yelled into Jake’s hoodie.

“And we have our winner!” Sunghoon replied.

Jake chuckled beneath you, brushing a strand of hair gently out of your eyes—or at least tried to. One strand was… vertical.

You blinked up at him. “I want them gone.”

Jake smoothed his hand through the top of your hair. “Let me try to fix them?”

You squinted. “Can you?”

“No,” he admitted. “But if I mess it up, you’ll get to yell at me instead of yourself.”

You stared at him.

He gave you that stupid little grin—warm, patient, already yours.

You sighed. “Deal.”

Jake grinned wider, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. “Okay. Let me grab scissors, YouTube, and a whole lot of…uh…prayer.”

You smiled, soft and reluctant. But real.

Because even with tragic bangs, a hangover, and your dignity in shambles—

Jake made it all feel survivable.

Maybe even a little bit okay.

You were still in Jake’s lap, curled up like a broken barbie from a 6 year old with plastic scissors, when he sat up slowly, fingers brushing back your hair with more care than you thought anyone could ever use on someone so messily undone.

“Alright,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “Let’s fix this rat’s nest.”

You sniffled, eyes puffy. “You mean my hair?”

Jake’s lips quirked. “Same thing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Say one more dumb thing and I’ll cry again.”

He grinned and stood, effortlessly lifting you into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Jake—” you squeaked, clinging to him. “What are you doing?!”

“You’ve clearly lost your decision-making privileges. You’re emotionally unstable. And you keep sniffling like a baby bird,” he said matter-of-factly. “So, I’m airlifting you to your redemption arc.”

You buried your face into his hoodie. “You smell like detergent and protectiveness.”

“You smell like tequila and impulsive choices.”

He walked you into the bathroom and set you carefully onto the counter, warm hands steady at your waist as you adjusted your balance. The moment you were settled, he stepped between your knees without hesitation, reaching for the comb and scissors.

You blinked. Suddenly, the bathroom was a little too quiet. A little too warm. And Jake was a little too close.

“I’m gonna try to even these out,” he murmured, running his fingers gently through your bangs. “Try being the keyword.”

“I feel like this is where I die.”

“You look like a girl on the brink of a villain origin story.”

“Perfect,” you muttered. “Make me look dangerous.”\

As you sat still on the bathroom counter, knees lightly brushing his chest. Jake picked up the scissors again, his brows drawn tight in concentration.

He was taking it seriously. Too seriously. His tongue peeked out just slightly as he combed a section of your hair, eyes sharp, focused like he was performing life-saving surgery instead of fixing your tequila-fueled haircut.

You smiled—couldn’t help it. Because how was he still so cute, even now? Even while fixing the disaster you made of your bangs, looking like an overworked stylist with something to prove.

He tilted his head, snipped gently. Paused. Tilted again.

“Stop smiling,” he muttered, eyes still fixed on your hair.

“I’m not,” you said, definitely smiling.

“I can feel it.”

You laughed softly. “You’re just cute when you’re stressed.”

That made his hands falter. Just a little.

But he didn’t say anything. Just cleared his throat and kept going, slower now—more careful. Like he was stalling. Or maybe... savoring.

Jake leaned in just a little, brow furrowed in quiet concentration. “Hold still,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked. “What—”

“There’s a bit of hair on your face,” he murmured.

His hand came up gently, fingers brushing the side of your cheek as he tried to sweep away the tiny, stubborn strand that had clung to your skin. You froze.

Because Jake—without even thinking—tilted your chin up with one hand, and with the other, he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered against your jaw, fingers grazing your cheek, and then staying there.

You froze.

Jake didn’t move either.

His hand remained cupped on your face. His thumb brushed your skin. And his eyes—God, his eyes were locked on yours like they were holding something he hadn’t meant to let show.

You could feel the shift in the air. Heavy. Quiet. Like the entire world was holding its breath, waiting.

His gaze flicked to your lips. Just for a second.

And then it flicked back.

But it was enough.

Your heart stuttered. Your knees curled inward, brushing his hips. He leaned in—slowly, almost unconsciously. You could feel his breath now. Feel the tension between you, burning like something fragile and explosive all at once.

You didn’t move.

Neither did he.

It was so close. One more inch. Half an inch. Less than that.

You could see the way his lashes fluttered when he blinked. The way his jaw clenched like he was holding something back.

His forehead almost touched yours.

And just when you thought he might do it—just when your lips parted like they were waiting—

“GET YOUR DAMN PANCAKES!” Sunghoon’s voice echoed through the apartment like an accidental earthquake.

You jolted.

Jake stepped back too fast, hands dropping like they’d been burned.

You blinked hard, your pulse pounding.

“Right,” you said, hopping off the counter like it wasn’t shaking beneath you. “Breakfast.”

“Let’s go,” Jake said, voice too casual, too quick.

Neither of you looked at each other as you walked out of the bathroom.

But your fingers were still tingling.

And Jake’s heart was still lodged somewhere in his throat.—

The three of you were seated around the kitchen table. You sat across from Jake. The air smelled like sugar, butter, and unbearable tension.

Normally by now, you and Jake would’ve been locked in a battle of sarcastic wits, tag-teaming insults about Sunghoon’s tragic playlists or the sociopathic way he peeled his oranges.

But this morning?

Silence.

Sunghoon was the only one talking.

And he noticed.

“…So I told her, yes, I do moisturize, actually, and no, you can’t just borrow my $60 toner like it’s a sample at Sephora,” he said, pausing only to cut a triangle of pancake. “Anyway. These are the fluffiest pancakes I’ve ever made. Probably because I put love into them and not repressed rage, for once.”

You nodded absently. Jake let out a weird little hum like he was underwater.

Sunghoon squinted at you both.

He continued, tone flattening: “Also, I’m quitting college to become a juice bar cult leader. I’ll sell turmeric shots and emotional detachment.”

Sunghoon blinked slowly.

“…Hello?”

Silence.

He dropped his fork dramatically. “Okay. What is going on?!”

You and Jake looked up at the same time, startled like toddlers caught stealing cookies.

“You’re both being weird,” Sunghoon said, stabbing his fork in the air like a courtroom prosecutor. “Aren’t you usually bickering by now? Or pelting me with toast? Or roasting my skincare routine?”

You blinked. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Jake coughed. “Totally fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Sunghoon snapped. “You’re sitting there like someone died. Did the bang trauma finally kill your friendship? Was it the haircut? Did a ghost tell you to never speak again?”

Sunghoon turned to Jake. “And you. You haven’t insulted me once. Not even when I said I wanted to start a juice cult.”

Jake shoved pancake in his mouth. “I support your passions.”

Sunghoon froze.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. “Who are you two?!”

You and Jake exchanged a glance.

Sunghoon’s jaw dropped. “No. No. No—”

“What?” you said too quickly.

Jake sipped his coffee like it was spiked with sedatives.

Sunghoon pointed at both of you. “Something happened. I don’t know what. But if this is about some repressed ‘we accidentally almost kissed while trimming tragic bangs’ situation, I swear to god I will scream.”

You choked on your juice.

Jake muttered, “N–nothing happened.”

Sunghoon leaned back, crossing his arms like a dad about to issue consequences.

“Right,” he said. “And I’m emotionally stable.”

He stood suddenly and grabbed his coat off the hook by the door.

You looked up. “Where are you going?”

Jake jolted upright. “Wait—wait. What? Where ya goin’, man?” His voice cracked slightly.

Sunghoon didn’t even blink. “Out.”

Jake laughed nervously. “Nooo, don’t go. We’re having a good time. Bonding. Pancakes. Healing.”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile that definitely wasn’t panicked. “Stay. We can watch something. I won’t even make fun of you for picking a romcom from the 60s.”

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes.

“…You two are being so weird right now.”

Jake blinked. “What? No.”

“Totally normal,” you said simultaneously.

The tension between you and Jake buzzed like a power line. Sunghoon stared. You and Jake sat a full cushion apart on the couch, but somehow it felt like you were breathing the same air.

After a pause, Sunghoon grabbed the doorknob.

“I’m gonna get some more eggs, we ran out of them.” he muttered, and slammed the door behind him.

Silence.

One beat.

Two.

Then you and Jake both shot up and retreated to your rooms at the exact same time, slamming your doors like a choreographed sitcom exit.

You paced around your room.

Back and forth. Arms crossed. Hair bouncing (the parts you hadn’t murdered). You could still feel the ghost of Jake’s hand on your jaw.

Yes. Okay. Sure. You almost kissed him in the bathroom. But let’s review.

You were vulnerable.

You just got dumped.

Your bangs looked like they were cut by a raccoon with ADHD.

It meant nothing.

…Right?

You stopped and groaned into your hands. “It was the vulnerability. I was emotionally compromised and Jake’s dumb face got too close.”

You paused.

“…Jake’s dumb, pretty face…”

—

Late in the afternoon, you wandered into the kitchen with a bowl of greens and the vague desire to do something normal. Something quiet. Something safe. Your fingers moved on autopilot as you chopped vegetables—lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers—something about the rhythm calming the noise in your head.

Until you heard it.

The shuffle of feet down the hallway. That familiar cadence. Soft, unhurried. Jake Sim.

You paused mid-slice.

Jake walked in a second later, completely unaware you were already there—ramen in one hand, phone in the other, texting with his usual boyish ease. The hoodie he wore was slightly rumpled. His hair still damp from a shower. He looked so effortlessly himself it made your chest ache.

He looked up.

And froze.

Your eyes met for one long, breathless second. Too long. Too much.

Then he spun around so fast he nearly dropped the ramen.

He stood in the doorway, awkwardly half-turned, clearly debating whether bolting would make things better or worse. The silence was loud.

After a beat, he cleared his throat and forced himself to turn back.

“Cool,” he said, voice pitched an octave too high. “Great. Dinner.”

He grabbed a pot from the cabinet like it was a lifeline. Filled it at the sink with determined focus, pretending not to glance at you from the corner of his eye.

You turned back to your chopping. Tried to focus.

But the air in the kitchen had shifted—thicker now. Heavier. Like all that nearly-spilled affection from the bathroom was still clinging to your sleeves.

You could feel him next to you. Could sense every inch of space he left between you. Could feel every inch he didn’t.

Then you both reached for the stove.

At the same time.

Your fingers brushed.

You both flinched.

“Sorry—” you mumbled.

“No—you—uh—go ahead—” he said quickly.

It should’ve been fine. It was a stove. It was cooking.

But it wasn’t.

Now you were standing shoulder to shoulder, the side of his arm barely grazing yours every few seconds, and it was like touching static. Every brush sent sparks to your spine.

His noodles boiled. Your chicken sizzled.

And still, neither of you moved.

Jake kept stealing glances—tiny, fleeting ones, like he couldn’t help it. Like he needed to make sure you were real. You weren’t looking at him, but you felt him looking. You felt it like a pulse.

Your heart wouldn’t stop tripping over itself.

This is nothing, you told yourself. It’s proximity. It’s leftover tension. You’re vulnerable, fresh off a breakup. You’re not—

You reached for the pan.

Too close.

Your fingers hit the hot edge. Hard.

“Shit—ow!” you gasped, jerking your hand back.

Jake turned like he’d been shot.

“What happened?!” His voice was sharp with panic as he lunged toward you. “Are you okay?!”

“I just—I touched the—” Your words tumbled over each other as you blinked at your hand, already stinging and red, the skin rising into a welt.

Jake didn’t hesitate.

He grabbed your wrist with both hands—gentle but urgent—and rushed you to the sink, flipping the faucet with his elbow. The cold water hit the burn and made you wince.

But you barely felt it.

Because all you could feel was Jake’s hands wrapped around yours. His thumb against your pulse. His breath too close. His panic louder than yours.

“You okay?” he asked again, eyes never leaving the burn. “Can you feel this? Are you dizzy? Why aren’t you saying anything—why are you—”

He stopped.

Because you were smiling.

Barely. Just the smallest curl at the corners of your mouth.

But it was there.

And so was he. Right there in front of you, looking like he was breaking apart from how badly he wanted to keep you safe. Like your pain physically hurt him.

No one had ever looked at you like that before.

And suddenly, everything shifted.

Because in that moment—burning finger, cold water, trembling hands—you knew.

You were falling for Jake.

And maybe you had been for a while.

The realization made your chest tighten. Made your throat close. You looked at him and your heart skipped like it knew this moment mattered.

Jake helped you sit on the counter, still holding your hand like it might disappear. He moved carefully—so carefully—as he opened the first aid kit, his lips pressed together in a worried line.

He dabbed ointment on the burn with a lightness that made your chest ache. His brows furrowed as he wrapped the bandage, his thumb stroking the back of your hand like a whisper.

“You never pay attention,” he muttered, voice tight with concern. “Always spacing out. Always in your head. It’s like you want me to have a heart attack.”

“You make me worry so much it’s insane,” he whispered. Like he hadn’t meant to say it. Like it spilled out before he could catch it.

You didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. Not when your pulse was roaring in your ears and his touch made you feel like you might float out of your body.

Then you heard it—quiet, almost to himself.

“God, you’re the only person in the world who makes me feel like this.”

“Like what?” You mumbled.

“Like I’m going fucking insane.”

Jake’s eyes widened a second too late. Like he’d only just realized he said it out loud.

You stared at him.

“…Say that again,” you whispered.

“I didn’t—” he started, panicking. “I didn’t mean—”

You slid off the counter slowly. Your hand still throbbed—but your heart was louder. Too loud.

You looked at him. And in his eyes, you saw everything.

The longing. The panic. The thousand things he wasn’t saying.

And then—

“If you’re gonna keep having slow-burn movie moments in the kitchen, at least don’t do it in the kitchen.”

You both jumped.

Sunghoon stood in the doorway, a grocery bag in one hand and a carton of eggs in the other. His eyebrows were already in judgmental orbit.

Jake stammered, “We weren’t—!”

“You were,” Sunghoon said, breezing past. “You were doing the eye thing.”

“What eye thing?” you asked, flustered.

“The longing one. With the breathing and the tragic backlighting. The tragic yearning...it’s disgusting.”

—

The BBQ joint was already full when you walked in—heat rising from tabletop grills, laughter spilling over like steam, the air thick with the smell of sizzling meat and farewell speeches. You stood at the entrance for a second, bag slung over your shoulder, your heart thudding a little faster than necessary.

You weren’t even sure why you’d come.

Sunghoon had bailed last minute, claiming a “group project emergency,” and you could’ve easily ghosted too. But something had pulled you here—maybe the closure, maybe the company, maybe the quiet, ridiculous hope that things might feel normal again. That you might feel normal again.

Your eyes swept the room, searching for a familiar face.

And there he was.

Jake, halfway across the restaurant, hunched slightly in his chair as he laughed at something someone said. His hair was a little messy like he’d run his hands through it too many times. His denim jacket hung on the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up as he reached for the grill tongs, utterly unaware that he’d just knocked the breath out of you.

You took a step forward. Small. Tentative. A part of you hoping—aching—that maybe he’d seen you already. He saved you a seat.

But then you froze.

Because a girl slid into the chair beside him.

She was pretty. Confident. One of those girls who didn’t need to try to draw attention. She leaned in with ease, like they already knew each other. She laughed, tossed her hair, said something that made Jake glance over and smile—polite, soft.

Not your smile.

Your feet stayed planted. Your throat tightened, jealousy wrapping around your chest like a rope. You didn’t want to feel it. You didn’t even know what it meant. But there it was.

That empty chair had never not been yours before.

And now, suddenly, it wasn’t.

You blinked hard and turned on your heel, moving so fast it felt like fleeing. You didn’t care where you sat—anywhere but there. Anywhere but near him and her.

Jay looked up from his grill station just in time to see you drop into the seat next to him with the force of someone trying to bury a feeling. His eyebrows lifted, chopsticks paused mid-turn.

“Woah,” he said, startled. “Dramatic entrance. Everything okay?”

You forced a smile that didn’t quite make it past your cheeks. “Peachy.”

Jay looked unconvinced.

You stared hard at the sizzling grill in front of you. The sound of meat crackling felt louder than the conversations around you. Too loud. Too sharp. But not sharp enough to cut through the coil of emotion in your chest.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Jake glance your way. Brief, unsure. You didn’t look back.

Instead, you reached for a piece of lettuce like it wronged you in a past life and stabbed your chopsticks through it.

Jay watched you for a moment, then cautiously leaned in. “Sooo... wanna tell me why you look like you’re about to wrestle that cabbage?”

You didn’t answer.

Because on the other side of the table, Jake was laughing again. Soft. Casual. Like nothing had changed. Like he hadn’t been on the verge of kissing you in a bathroom two weeks ago. Like he didn’t used to look at you first when he walked into a room.

But today, he didn’t.

He looked at her.

Something sharp twisted in your gut. Something bitter.

Jealousy, maybe. Or disappointment.

Not that he was talking to someone else.

But that he let her sit there. That he gave away your spot like it never mattered.

Your jaw clenched. You shoved the lettuce into your mouth like it was responsible for your emotional spiral.

Jay winced in sympathy. “So… no comment?”

“None.”

“Cool, cool. I’ll just assume you’re possessed and move on.”

He turned back to the grill, wisely choosing not to push further. You didn’t notice, but your shoulders stayed tense. You didn’t speak. You didn’t breathe right. Your fingers picked apart a piece of grilled pork until it was unrecognizable.

Across the table, Jungwon raised his voice.

“Hey! Let’s talk about the class’s power couple!”

You looked up mid-chew. Wrong move.

“Jake and her, obviously!” he said, pointing at you both with a grin like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You nearly choked on your lettuce. “Yang Jungwon, I will throw this piece of meat in your face if you don’t–”

Jay coughed into his drink. “Here we go.”

Jungwon beamed. “What? You’re always together. It’s, like, a known thing.”

Someone else piped in. “It’s true. Jake’s always doing the sweetest things for her. Didn’t he bring you bubble tea for a whole week when you got your wisdom teeth out?” 

“And didn’t he carry your whole bag once when your wrist hurt?” 

“And hold your umbrella even though he was getting soaked?” Everyone at the table nodded, laughing. Agreeing. Smiling at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You flushed.

Jake stayed quiet.

Still across the table.

Still next to her.

And still not looking at you.

The realization hit slow and hard—like a wave you’d tried to outrun finally catching your heels.

Everyone saw it.

Everyone had always seen it.

Except you.

Until now.

Your throat felt dry. Your chest felt hollow. And your skewer? Obliterated. You stabbed through the last piece of beef with more aggression than necessary.

Jay leaned over and whispered, “You’re gonna set off the smoke alarm if you keep grilling that poor meat.”

You didn’t respond.

Because the chair he used to save for you wasn’t yours anymore.

And for the first time—you realized how much that seat had mattered.

You didn’t even realize how tightly your hands were gripping your chopsticks until your knuckles turned white. Your jaw ached from how long you’d been clenching it. Everyone at the table laughed at something you didn’t hear, and it felt like you were underwater—sound muffled, air thick, eyes locked on your untouched plate.

You hadn’t meant to care so much.

It was just a chair.

Just a seat at a dinner party.

But it was your seat. The one he always saved without asking. The one he used to pat with a grin like, "Reserved for royalty." The one where your jacket used to end up without thinking, your chopsticks already unwrapped by the time you sat down.

So seeing someone else sitting there—smiling like she belonged there—felt like stepping into a memory and realizing it didn’t remember you back.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

You weren’t together. Not really. Not even close.

But god, that seat had never been up for grabs before.

You slid into the open spot across the table like it didn’t burn, even though every movement felt like betrayal. Like you were betraying yourself by still hoping for something you couldn’t even name.

And then, he tapped your shoulder.

You stiffened immediately, already knowing it was him.

Jake.

The very air changed when he was around. Lighter, tighter, like it had more weight and less oxygen at the same time.

“Hey,” he said, voice easy. Too easy.

You didn’t look at him.

Tap.

“Princess.”

You froze.

Your throat tightened.

Because Princess used to be the softest thing in the world. A tease. A comfort. A reminder that he knew you, saw you, adored you in all the quiet ways he never said aloud.

But now?

It felt… different. Tainted.

It didn’t land the same when your chair was already taken. When he’d let someone else into the only space you thought was sacred.

So you didn’t turn.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t soften.

He hesitated—like he felt the shift, too.

“Hmph,” you crossed your arms like a child.

Jake’s voice dropped, lower this time. “Why are you mad at me?”

You still didn’t answer.

He let out a slow breath and walked around the table instead, crouching beside your chair like a boy trying to pick up something broken.

Your gaze stayed glued to your half-torn napkin.

“Is it… about the seat?” he asked, voice gentler now. Like maybe he already knew the answer. Like he knew exactly what that seat meant.

Your silence answered for you.

Jake swallowed hard.

“I wasn’t thinking,” he murmured. “She sat down before I even before I realized you were coming. I swear, I wasn’t trying to—”

“To what?” you cut in, quiet but sharp. “Replace me?”

Jake flinched.

You regretted it instantly. But not enough to take it back.

Because that seat—that tiny, stupid thing—meant something. And tonight, he let someone else take it like it didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking just a little. “I should’ve waited for you. I should’ve saved it.”

Your hands tightened in your lap. “Forget it.”

“Princess,” he said again, softer now. Pleading. Like maybe if he said it right, it would mean the same thing it used to.

But it didn’t.

Not tonight.

You looked up, finally meeting his eyes.

And he looked wrecked. Not in the dramatic, cinematic way. Just quietly ruined. Like he hadn’t realized how deep this cut would go. Like he was only just now understanding what he’d done.

You turned away before it could get worse.

Before your face could say too much.

Jake didn’t move.

Didn’t say another word.

Just sat there beside you like he would’ve done anything to rewind the night and start over.

But some things you couldn’t undo.

You were chewing in silence, half your brain stuck in a loop of spiraling thoughts and the other half… fully aware of Jake beside you. The way he kept glancing at you every few seconds. The way his leg bounced under the table like he had something to say but didn’t know how to say it.

You shifted in your seat.

He didn’t look at you, but he nudged your knee gently with his.

Then came his voice—soft, tentative, like he was knocking on a door he wasn’t sure he was allowed to open.

“I still owe you a prize.”

Your head turned.

Jake was already half smiling. That crooked, boyish smile that always cracked something open in your chest.

You blinked. “…What?”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“…Two,” you whispered.

Jake turned, hand still hidden behind his back—and slowly revealed two fingers.

Your breath hitched. Just barely.

He smiled wider now, eyes lighting up like he’d been holding that hope in all night.

“Correct,” he said gently. “Which means…”

Jake stood up suddenly, brushing his hands on his jeans. “Wait here.”

You blinked again. “What? Where are you going—?”

He was already walking off, dodging servers and plates of steaming food. He made a beeline toward the front of the restaurant where the owner stood at the counter, scribbling on receipts.

From your seat, you watched him gesture animatedly. He pointed to a pen. Then to a napkin. The owner blinked, clearly confused, but handed him a small notepad and a black pen.

You watched Jake furrow his brows, crouching at a little side table and scribbling furiously, tongue poking out slightly as he focused. His shoulders hunched like he was working on something important. 

He returned a minute later, cheeks flushed with effort, pen still tucked behind his ear like an afterthought.

Without saying a word, he slid the paper toward you.

“Your prize,” he said, not quite meeting your eyes.

You looked down.

It was a drawing.

A bad drawing.

Stick figures, crooked lines, and a questionable attempt at your haircut—short, jagged bangs that stuck out at odd angles, cartoonishly captured in the most chaotic way possible. You almost laughed.

But then your eyes caught the words scribbled underneath:

‘Even with that haircut, you’re still the prettiest girl in the world.’

Your breath hitched.

You looked up.

Jake was pretending to sip water, very invested in the contents of his cup.

Your fingers tightened around the edges of the paper.

“…You’re such an idiot,” you whispered.

His gaze finally flicked to yours.

And even in the low lighting of the restaurant, you saw it.

The softness.

The hope.

The fear.

Like he didn’t know how you’d take it—but he meant every word anyway.

Your throat was suddenly too tight. 

You didn’t say anything else.

You didn’t have to.

Because you were still holding the drawing. 

—

You slipped your bag over your shoulder, the strap digging slightly into your coat as you muttered a quick goodbye to Jay and Jungwon. They teased you on the way out—of course they did.

The air outside hit your face like a wall. Sharp. Cold. Honest.

You exhaled, breath clouding in the dark. The city lights blurred into little golden halos around you as you wrapped your scarf with clumsy fingers, your hands still shaky from the night. From everything.

And then—

“Wait—hey!”

You turned.

Jake.

He was jogging after you, his jacket flapping open behind him, cheeks flushed red from the heat inside meeting the cold outside. His hair was a little windblown. His eyes found yours like they always did—easily, like home.

You blinked, lips parting. “What are you—”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” he asked, breath puffing in the cold. He slowed beside you, steps syncing with yours before you even answered.

You paused, your fingers still tangled in your scarf.

“…Weren’t you still talking to her?” you asked softly. Softer than you meant to. Your voice barely carried.

The silence stretched between you.

Then, wordlessly, Jake reached for your scarf.

You froze.

“Here,” he murmured, fingers brushing yours. “You always do it too tight.”

He didn’t wait for permission. His hands moved gently, expertly—unraveling the mess you’d twisted, smoothing the soft fabric like he’d done it a hundred times. Like muscle memory.

His knuckles grazed your jaw as he tucked the ends in.

You held your breath.

And when you finally looked up, he was already watching you.

You, wrapped in the coat he gave you. In the scarf he’d fixed. In the silence he hadn’t tried to fill with anything other than quiet care.

“I’d rather be walking us home,” Jake said gently. Not a question. Not even a request.

And still—you let him.

The two of you walked slowly, the glow of streetlamps casting long shadows across the pavement. 

Jake was rambling beside you—something about Jungwon’s tragic karaoke and lettuce on a grill—but your mind was somewhere else entirely.

It was on him.

It was on every version of him.

On all the times he showed up when he didn’t have to. On all the gentle, quiet ways he loved you without asking for anything back.

On the umbrella he always tilted toward you.

On the bubble teas and playlists and dumb printed emoji sheets.

It hit you so hard you physically stopped walking.

Jake didn’t notice until he took two more steps and realized your footsteps had vanished.

“—and I swear, if he ever touches a mic again—wait, hey, you okay?”

He turned around.

You stood there, frozen in place, eyes wide and glassy like you were realizing something you couldn’t un-realize.

Jake’s face shifted instantly.

“W-What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping forward, concern flashing across his face. “Did I say something? Are you—”

You didn’t answer.

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him—just like that. No hesitation.

You pressed your cheek against his shoulder, arms looping around his back like you needed to hold something steady. Like he was the only thing steady enough to hold.

Jake stilled.

Completely.

And then his arms came around you.

Slow. Firm. Certain.

You felt his hand press gently into your back, the other cupping the back of your neck like he was trying to piece you back together with touch alone.

Your voice cracked when it came out.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

His breath hitched. “Tell you what?”

“That you’ve been in love with me.”

Silence.

Jake went still again. His hand flexed slightly against your back.

You pulled back just enough to see him—your hands still clutching his coat, his eyes wide, mouth parted, heart in his throat.

“That would’ve made everything so much simpler,” you said, voice trembling. “Maybe I wouldn’t have dated that idiot. Maybe I would’ve chosen you. A long time ago.”

Jake looked stunned. His lips parted like he wanted to say something—but you didn’t let him.

“I thought you were just being nice,” you whispered. “I thought… you saw me, maybe, like a sister. I didn’t know…you–”

His brows drew together. Something deep and aching passed across his face.

“I’m sorry,” you went on. “I should’ve known. I should’ve seen it. You’ve always been there. Always. And I never looked at you the way I should’ve. Not until it was too late.”

Jake stared at you like you’d just knocked the air out of him.

And then.

He cupped your jaw with both hands.

Thumbs brushing the apples of your cheeks. Fingers resting gently, reverently, like you were porcelain. His eyes were locked on yours, searching. Burning.

And then he leaned in.

The kiss wasn’t tentative.

It was everything he’d held in.

Years of friendship, of quiet pining, of every moment he almost let it slip and didn’t—it all spilled into that one kiss.

His lips found yours with a kind of desperate relief. Like coming home. Like breathing after drowning. Like maybe, finally, he didn’t have to hold it back anymore.

Your hands curled into the front of his coat. You tilted up into him, breath catching as he deepened the kiss—his hands sliding into your hair, one curling at the nape of your neck, the other still cupping your jaw like he couldn’t bear to let go.

His lips moved, with tenderness, with the kind of aching care that made your knees weak and your chest full to bursting.

When he finally pulled back—just barely—you were both breathless.

Your noses brushed.

His hands didn’t move.

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes still closed, as if he couldn’t look at you and survive it.

“You didn’t have to see it back then,” he whispered. “I loved you anyway. I always have.”

You closed your eyes.

And kissed him again.

Because you didn’t need to say it yet.

You were already saying it in every breath.

And Jake?

Jake held you like he’d waited his whole life to because well…he did.

Because maybe you hadn’t fallen first.

But you were falling harder now.

You barely made it halfway down the street before you stopped again—just to kiss him.

It started soft.

His hand found your jaw, thumb brushing lightly beneath your cheekbone as your lips pressed to his, slow and testing, like you were still trying to figure out how this all worked now. How it was real. His nose brushed yours. Your fingers curled in the collar of his coat, tugging him just a little closer.

You took three steps.

Then stopped again.

This time his hands slipped lower—one landing on your hip, the other skimming the small of your back as he leaned in again, mouth warm and insistent. His kiss deepened, lips parting against yours, breath catching in his throat as your fingers found the hair at the nape of his neck and tugged, just a little.

“Jake,” you mumbled against his mouth, your nose nudging his cheek, “we’re literally in public.”

He didn’t move away.

Just smiled against your lips. “Not my fault you’re addictive.”

You rolled your eyes.

And then kissed him again.

Longer. Slower. Your body pressed into his chest as his arm wrapped firmly around your waist. He tasted like cinnamon gum and the cold air between you. His teeth grazed your bottom lip before his lips found yours again, open and hungry now.

By the time you reached your building, the two of you were fully drunk on it—on each other.

He had you backed up gently against the brick wall by your door, your back hitting it with a soft thud. His hands braced either side of your head. Yours slid down his chest, fingers dragging across the buttons of his jacket before slipping underneath and fisting in his hoodie.

His forehead rested against yours, your noses brushing.

“I can't believe I get to do this now,” Jake whispered, breathless, lips still ghosting over yours. “Like this. With you.”

You smiled, whispering back against his mouth, “I should’ve kissed you years ago.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his mouth dipping lower, kissing along your jaw before finding your lips again. “But then I wouldn’t have gotten to fall in love with you like this.”

Your arms curled around his neck. You were just about to pull him back in when—

“OH MY GOD. MY EYES!”

You both jerked away.

Jake turned first, one hand still protectively on your waist. You peeked around his shoulder, blinking through the haze of hormones and heat.

Sunghoon.

Standing frozen a few feet away, grocery bag in hand, jaw dropped so hard it could’ve cracked the sidewalk.

“SERIOUSLY?!” he shouted, voice breaking with disbelief. “MY ONE NIGHT OUT?! THIS IS WHAT I COME HOME TO? TONGUE WRESTLING? ON THE DOORSTEP?”

You immediately hid your face in Jake’s shoulder, laughing so hard you nearly collapsed.

Jake just grinned. “You’re just jealous you’re bitter, old, and single.”

“I LIVE HERE, YOU FERAL ANIMALS.”

You peeked up, cheeks burning, still giggling like a teenager. Jake reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers like he’d been doing it forever. His thumb traced slow circles on your skin.

Jake giggled, stepped in, slow and sure, until there was barely an inch between you. His hand let go of yours only to slide around your waist, pulling you in until your chest brushed his. His other hand found your jaw again, thumb grazing your cheekbone.

And then he kissed you. Again. Harder this time.

Behind you, Sunghoon made an actual gagging noise. “CUT IT OUT! This is why I prayed for your downfall, Jake.”

Jake just tugged you toward the elevator, still holding your hand.

—-

You barely made it into the apartment before Sunghoon yelled from his bedroom, voice muffled through the door:

“I’M NEVER WASHING YOUR LAUNDRY AGAIN.”

You and Jake burst into laughter, tripping over each other as you kicked off your shoes, still tangled in giggles and flushed skin and stolen kisses.

Jake followed you straight to your room, still holding your hand like it was his favorite thing in the world. His other hand? Firm on your waist. His mouth? Absolutely relentless.

The second the door clicked shut, he was on you again—his lips warm and insistent against your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. He kissed you like he couldn’t stop, like he didn’t want to stop, like he was mapping every inch of you with his mouth.

You laughed breathlessly, leaning back against the wall as his hands framed your face and his mouth finally, finally met yours again—deeper this time, slower but more demanding, like he was memorizing you.

“Jake—” you gasped between kisses, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes, “we have class at eight tomorrow.”

He didn’t even blink. Just leaned back in and kissed you again, his thumb brushing along the underside of your jaw as he tilted your face up to him. “I don’t care,” he whispered against your lips.

You barely had time to respond before his mouth crashed into yours again, open-mouthed, his hand sliding from your cheek down to your waist, gripping just tight enough to make your knees weak. Your fingers threaded into the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer as your back hit the door, and you swore you felt the room spin slightly.

When you finally broke apart, panting, your lips felt swollen, kissed raw. Your heart was racing.

“So,” you murmured, dazed and breathless, “does this mean we’re… dating?”

Jake blinked, cheeks flushed, lips red. Then he grinned, cocky and breathless. “Are you asking me out?”

You rolled your eyes, still pinned between the wall and his body, smiling despite yourself. “It’s the least I could do, considering I didn’t realize you were in love with me for, like, a decade.”

Jake laughed—a low, husky sound that made your stomach flip. He leaned in again, brushing your lips with his, soft and slow this time. “You don’t owe me a single thing,” he whispered, one hand still at your waist, the other stroking your cheek like you were something fragile.

Then—just like that—he kissed you again. Harder. Messier.

He angled your chin just right and slotted your mouths together in a way that made you exhale a broken sound against his lips. His tongue teased against yours, slow and devastating, and when you whimpered into the kiss, he tightened his grip on your waist like he couldn’t help it.

It wasn’t just kissing anymore. It was kissing like gravity didn’t exist.

“Gosh,” he murmured against your lips, breath ragged, “I can’t stop. You’re like—” kiss “—a drug or something.” Kiss. “A really addictive one.”

You giggled mid-kiss, your hands sliding up into his hair. “You’re insane.”

And then SLAM.

Your bedroom door flew open like a jump scare.

Jake jumped away from you like you’d just been caught stealing a national treasure.

Before either of you could process what was happening, Sunghoon stormed into the room, dragging Jake into a headlock mid-sentence.

“WHAT THE—!” Jake shrieked.

You collapsed onto the wall, laughing so hard your knees buckled. Sunghoon grumbled something incoherent as he dragged a flailing Jake down the hallway like a sack of potatoes.

“I’m trying to sleep,” Sunghoon barked. “And instead I get moaning and giggling through my wall like I’m living in a romcom directed by Satan.”

Jake was breathless. “I wasn’t even going tor—”

“Yeah, yeah, pipe it, dumbass.”

Sunghoon slammed Jake down onto his bed and slammed the door behind him like it owed him peace.

You were still giggling in the hallway when Sunghoon’s door creaked open again. He stepped out looking 800 years tired, hoodie wrinkled and hair in chaos.

“And you!”

He pointed at you.

You stood straighter.

He stared. Then sighed.

“…Sleep well,” he muttered.

But just as he turned away, he mumbled under his breath: “God, you’re so happy it’s disgusting.”

And you were.

You were dizzy, breathless, borderline giddy.

Disgustingly happy.

And it felt perfect.

—

You laid in bed, the blanket tucked snugly beneath your chin, heart still racing from the absolute whirlwind that had been your night. Your lips were still tingling. Your cheeks ached from how much you’d smiled. Everything inside you buzzed, giddy and light, like you were a teenager with her first real crush.

Only this wasn’t a crush.

This was Jake.

You giggled into your pillow, kicking your feet beneath the covers, limbs wriggling like your body had no idea how to contain this much happiness.

Then—

Ping.

Your phone lit up beside you.

Jake 💙 i miss u already hehe

You let out an actual squeal, smacking your pillow with both hands, grinning like a complete lunatic.

God.

You’d never felt like this before. Not even with your ex. Not even close. This was warm. This was exciting. Safe. Stupid and lovely all at once.

This was Jake.

Still smiling, you typed back quickly, almost shy:

can u sneak back in?

You held your breath, eyes glued to the typing bubble.

But before it even disappeared—you heard it.

The quiet creak of a door unlocking.

You bolted upright.

Heart stuttering, you threw off your blanket and padded toward your bedroom door, cracking it open just enough to peek into the hallway.

And there he was.

Jake.

In pajama pants and a hoodie, hair tousled and fluffy, tiptoeing across the hallway like some cartoon burglar. His socked feet made no sound, but his face was full of mischief, lit up with a secret smile like this was the best part of his whole night.

He looked up and spotted you, then quickly pressed a finger to his lips.

“Shhh,” he whispered, a ridiculous grin tugging at his mouth.

You had to bite down on your knuckle to keep from laughing. He was impossible.

He reached your door in two quiet steps, gently pushing you backward into your room with both hands on your shoulders, like you were something delicate.

Just as he was about to step in—

SLAM.

Sunghoon’s door burst open like he was a horror movie jump-scare.

Jake froze.

You froze.

Both of you turned slowly, like kids caught red-handed raiding the snack cabinet.

Sunghoon stood in his doorway, hair sticking out in ten different directions, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, expression one hundred percent done with everything.

Jake opened his mouth, already guilty. “We—”

“Go. To. Sleep,” Sunghoon said flatly. His voice had the kind of force only a sleep-deprived man could deliver. “You absolute rabbits.”

You immediately clamped a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter as Jake stepped back like a scolded puppy, both hands in the air.

“Okay okay! We’re sleeping!” he whisper-yelled as Sunghoon groaned, rubbed his temples, and slammed his door shut again.

The second it clicked closed, Jake leaned down toward your door and whispered with a grin:

“Tomorrow night, I’m climbing through your window.”

You giggled, heart racing again, and whispered back, “You better.”

And he did.

He really did. But he also got caught by Sunghoon. Again.

[turquoizxe]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐤𝐤𝐨

Ekko x Fem!Reader

content ― drabble/hc; fluff, mentions of Scar, reader has tattoos

author's note ― I love Ekko, that is all, moving forward, also I think I'm starting to like making drabbles/headcanons; I be locked in like a mf, and thank you for all the love on my previous drabble of Ekko!

wc ― 0.725k

Ekko's exterior was a tough shell to crack

But once you broke through it, there was no going back

He was closed off, for many good reasons, letting the walls he built come crashing down when with you was one of the hardest things he's ever done

It took what felt like eons to build this trust, but he wasn't sure if seeing a future with anyone was possible

He didn't want to get his hopes up

He had admired your patience and drive, hence why he adores you deeply

Dating Ekko felt like a dream, he felt like an entirely different person when his guard was down

While that's expected, you just couldn't believe that this is the same man running a Rebellion

And you wouldn't if you hadn't known him as long as you did

You had worked hard to earn his affection, just as he did to earn yours

What he took to get you, he used to keep you

The small trinkets he'd built, especially when he would get ready for missions, and he wasn't sure if he'd be back the same day

The community he had built had also learned to trust you, he involved you constantly in the development of the community

You were beyond terrified of the ride he always stood on

When your days would require less labor, you often spent your leisure trying to ride it

You thought Ekko wouldn't know, but he secretly likes to watch you practice, holding in his laughs whenever you busted your ass

What really surprised him is how good your combat is

You often avoided confrontation and physical altercations, as you never thought it was necessary to open a can of whoop-ass if it could just be solved with a conversation

But if anyone were to swing at you, you sure do hit back..hard

It flusters him how well your form is, the way your muscles flex when you practice with him. You often took that to your advantage when sparring. You knew for sure you had him where you wanted if you just wore a tank top, showing your tattoos

He stutters when he sees your tattoos, like a lot

It actually embarrasses him, and you can tell

So you often wear clothes that cover them so he can focus lol

He also loves it when you give him scalp massages. You learned how to retwist his locs, and he didn't go to anyone else anymore after you perfected it

He still hasn't told you who the hell his barber is, he'll come back to your shared home with a fresh cut, and you go absolutely feral

He loves it and makes it known, constantly teasing you when you can't look him straight in the face

But he better hope he doesn't get a lineup when you're ovulating because his ass is yours for sure

He's not really a man for public displays of affection, as he often reserves it in the comfort of which others cannot see

If he ever does it in front of his crew, he's usually needy, but he usually reserves that for your eyes and ears only

Constant moaning and groaning if he would steal a kiss from you while you're working, or a gag whenever you held hands in front of them

It's all in good fun, I swear

Scar teased you about it the most, as he was Ekko's right-hand

He knew how Ekko felt about you before he did

And when Ekko didn't pry into your love life, Scar did it for him

Finding out what you liked, as Ekko never really thought about how to serenade you

He was always caught up in his work, he hadn't put any thought into it until he did what he knew best and started making small trinkets for you

After you started dating, he didn't need to think about it as hard

It all started to feel natural to you. Falling in love with you was easy, loving you on purpose was the real challenge

Every thought, action, and consideration, it was intending to catch you

Lucky for him, the efforts were successful

He really didn't think in a million years he'd land such a wonderful person as you, but I assure you he thanks the gods every day for your love

― turquoizxe

[anonity]

flight risk

pairing: paige bueckers x azzi fudd wc: 2600 summary: paige hates travelling. azzi has to deal with her. (and, paige can't read google maps)

i honestly wasn’t reeeeaaaally sure how long to make this so i just kinda wrote until i was done lol. might proofread later idk everyone thank anon for the prompt. feel free to send in more :)

the bus hums beneath them, a steady roll down I-84. their flight isn’t even supposed to start boarding until 9:00am, but here paige is, head pressed against the cool window at six in the morning. her hoodie is bunched awkwardly on her shoulder, long legs bumping azzi’s to her side, and shes about to fall asleep when a backpack suddenly slams into her shoulder.

paige groans, forcing an eye open to glare at whoever disturbed her. 

it’s KK. of course it is, because who else would have such disregard for someone clearly trying to go back to bed? before paige can complain, KK begins shoving her bag into their overhead compartment. she mumbles something about it not fitting under her seat like she wanted it to. 

the grin on her face insinuates that the backpack-shoulder collision was purposeful.

paige does little other than hum in acknowledgement, grateful when the compartment clicks shut and KK plops unceremoniously back into the seat behind her, because that must be the end of the disturbances. 

it’s not.

someone in the back (aubrey?) is complaining about her cheez-its being missing, and while she doesn’t respond, allie looks a little guilty in the seat diagonal to paige and azzi’s. 

paige sighs, pressing her forehead back against the glass. think happy thoughts. she’s back in the comfort of her bed, blanket draped over the window and nothing but a box-fan for noise.

“paige.”

jesus.

the voice is soft, warm, close. paige cracks an eye open again, not bothering to turn toward her. she can already see the picture – azzi, sitting far too awake for six in the morning, with a book settled in her lap and an iced coffee in hand. 

paige grumbles, “‘m sleepin’,” in response.

“you were,” azzi corrects. paige hears a page turn. she sighs dramatically, letting her head fall forward onto the seat in front of them.

“wake me up when we land.”

azzi finally lifts her gaze from her book, a smile tugging at her lips. “you still have to get through security.”

paige waves her hand dismissively. it falls heavily on azzi’s lap, effectively disrupting her book-reading position. “that’s a problem for future me.”

azzi inhales deeply, takes a sip of her coffee. she glances over at paige, a little amused by the way her breath is already evening out again. “future you is going to be a problem for present me.”

paige smirks, eyes still closed and shoulders loose. “that’s love, az.”

azzi softens for just a second, and then KK slaps the back of her chair. “can y’all not be gay up there?”

the airport is hell with escalators. 

the fluorescent lights are blinding and there are weird, circular patterns in the carpet like whoever designed it was hopping off psychedelics. paige thinks the floor might be moving.

they’ve been here for – she grabs azzi’s wrist, turning the watch towards her – sixteen minutes. azzi hardly even spares a glance in her direction. 

it’s not until they get to the very end of TSA that paige notices her mistake. 

the worker (who, in paiges opinion, had been feeling her girlfriend up a little bit more than necessary) holds her full water bottle up at the end of the line. “you’re going to have to dump this out.”

azzi turns incredulously towards paige. “i told you to dump that out when we got here!”

paiges shoulders slump, staring pitifully at her bottle. “i was gonna do it in the bathroom..”

tiffni, judging by her nametag (which is decorated in pink bow pins) looks unamused. “i can either keep this here or you can go back around to the dumping site.”

paiges jaw drops. “back through security? why can’t i just dump it out here?”

tiffni stares, like the answer is obvious. “there isn’t a dumping site here.”

for fucks sake. 

paige sighs overdramatically, shuffling her luggage towards azzi with urgency. “i’ll be back.” azzi rolls her eyes.

she doesn’t return for another twenty minutes. azzi’s beginning to learn that paige is the reason why they needed to be at the airport three hours early.

when she does appear, she’s trudging towards the group like she’s being led to her execution. her water bottle is gripped tightly against her side. “i ran into like, seventeen fans on the way here.”

they find a row of seats so uncomfortable they can only be justified by the airport architecture. paige slumps. they’re too stiff to sleep in, too close to get comfortable, and the weird plastic arm is cracked down the side.

paige yanks her hoodie sleeve out of the crack for what feels like the umpteenth time, fishing around in her pocket for her phone and yanking it out with the grace of an elephant. 14%.

sighing dramatically, she shuffles around in her carry-on for a charger. 

it’s in her suitcase.

paige steadies herself with one deep breath, turning to look at azzi. unfortunately, azzi could sense the bullshit coming from a mile away, and is already staring at her. 

“no.”

paige whines. “az, my phones about to die.”

azzi’s voice lacks any sympathy. “you should’ve charged it on the bus.” she digs through her bag anyways, pulling an unnecessarily short charger out. it doesn’t reach to their seats, and paige has to decide between leaving her phone unattended at the mercy of her teammates, or leaving azzi’s side.

her phone sits unattended. 

eventually, paige decides she can’t go any longer without eating and leaves for the convenience shop ahead of them. she looks irritated when she gets back, $20 lighter and a bag of beef jerky in her hands. “this is extortion.”

azzi opens an eye, smiling lazily at paige. “should’ve brought your own snacks.” she watches as paige shoves a piece into her mouth, glowering at the price tag. 

“they probably would’ve confiscated my snacks, too.”

azzi scoffs at that.

by the time boardings started, paige has a new enemy: the intercom voice. it drones on with useless information she couldn’t care less about, and every once in a while it announces welcome to bradley international airport, like they haven’t been there for the past hour.

then, it says something actually relevant: “boarding group B may now begin lining up.”

azzi stands.

paige does not.

“paige.”

paige shuffles back further into her seat. “i just think it’s interesting,” she drawls, “that we’re all getting on the same plane, and yet everyone pushes to get in line anyways.”

azzi groans, gripping paiges arm and yanking her towards the door. “lets gooo, i wanna sit down.”

paige relents, following azzi toward the front and peppering the air with complaints despite azzi’s lack of response. sarah turns to investigate her grumbling for a second, but intelligently turns back around when she catches paige's stare. 

a new crisis emerges once they board. paige stares at her ticket, dumbfounded. “az, i’m in the middle seat.”

azzi’s already shoving both of their luggage in the overhead. “yup.”

paige blinks. “azzi.”

her girlfriend does not look even remotely sympathetic. “what?”

“switch with me please.”

azzi’s face crinkles. “no.”

“i’m going to lose my mind,” paige exaggerates, waving her ticket around pitifully. she’s not sure if its because she actually feels bad, or if she just doesn’t want to listen to paige complain any more today, but azzi backs up to let paige in the aisle first. victory.

azzi slaps her ass as she pushes past, muttering something about paige not having any mind left to lose. it doesn’t matter, though, because paige is sitting next to the window and all is right with the world.

azzi settles comfortably next to her, stretching her legs out against paige’s. paige shifts, but theres nowhere for her to move. “azzi.”

azzi raises an eyebrow, like she’s daring paige to complain again. she dares.

“move your legs.”

azzi smirks, now purposefully pressing against paige. “didn’t seem like a problem when you were all up in my business on the bus.”

“i was sleeping!” paige protests, shoving at her knees. “it’s totally–”

caroline, who was sitting behind them, suddenly rises so fast azzi’s seat shudders. “somebody switch me.”

not a single team member moves. carolines gaze rakes over the freshmen, landing on sarah. sarah’s hands immediately raise in the air. “i had to sit by them last time!” she defends, then immediately throws morgan under the bus. “it’s her turn.”

caroline stares. this may be the one scenario where someone is actually willing to not listen to her, but after a couple beats of silence morgan rises from her seat and moves to trade caroline. 

azzi’s voice comes out chiding, but she’s grinning either way. “look, now you made caroline move–”

“oh my god,” paige laughs, finally shoving azzis legs onto her own side. “get over yourself.”

she’s just starting to get comfortable (or, as comfortable as six feet can get in an airplane seat), when paige hears the soft thud of the armrest lifting. paiges eyes snap open. “what are you doing?”

azzi settles further into her seat, shoulder pressing insistently against paiges. “getting comfy.”

paige narrows her eyes. “without the armrest?”

“it was in my way.”

“it’s supposed to be there,” paige scoffs. “for boundaries, y’know?”

azzi’s must be coming off her morning high, because she hums contentedly, head falling against paiges shoulder. “‘m gonna take a nap,” she mumbles. 

paige lets her. 

as expected, creighton never stood a chance.

by the fourth buzzer, uconn had cruised by with a 19-point win. paige did her best impression of geno’s scowl on their way into the locker room, and soon ice was suggesting dinner. they argued for a solid ten minutes (KK apparently does not eat seafood) and then “DJ’s dugout” was decided on –  a bar ten minutes from baxter arena, and twenty from their hotel. 

azzi drags herself back to the hotel, being incredibly uninterested in listening to KK’s sexyy red playlist for the next two hours. paige meets her (post-shower, content and even enjoying KK’s playlist) in the hallway, her hair falling in loose waves and an easy smile plastered on her face. “i already called an uber, says its gon’ be here in 5 minutes.”

which is great, except that they get out of the uber and paige is immediately looking sheepishly up at the towering buildings. “uh,” she says, eloquently.

they can’t be too far off, because they can see the arena in the distance – but they’re staring up at rexius nutrition, which is very evidently not a bar. she turns, but their uber is gone, already melding back into the bustling street.

azzi stares expectantly.

shit.

paige glances back over the buildings, praying to God that one of the signs will morph into a DJ’s dugout. they don’t. she frowns, glancing down at her phone. “this isn’t right.”

“what do you mean?” azzi says. paige wonders briefly, frustratedly, what the hell else she could mean except that they aren’t in the right place.she doesn’t voice this, though, namely because her girlfriend would kill her. instead, she gestures to the buildings in front of them. a mai tai restaurant, chiropractors office, and – well, whatever rexius nutrition is. paige briefly takes in the #REXNATION sign out front and can only imagine how obnoxious they must be.

“i mean, this isn’t where were supposed to be.”

“you must’ve put the address in wrong,” azzi states matter-of-factly. 

paige sighs. “i literally copied it from KK’s location.”

“yeah, well, KK must’ve been busy joining the rex nation.”

paige laughs, grateful she’s not the only one put off by the sign. azzi watches with barely-concealed amusement as paige spins slowly, phone in hand, like a broken compass. “okay, it says were only two minutes away,” she says suddenly. 

azzi cranes forward, squinting against the sun to see paiges screen. there's a blue dot about two blocks down the road, thankfully labelled “DJ’s Dugout Sports Bar”. she immediately turns on her heel, walking in the opposite direction of rexius nutrition. “come on.”

paige is already jogging to catch up. this is never a good sign. azzi only walks this quickly when she’s irritated. 

for the first few blocks, everything seems fine. there isn’t an overwhelming amount of people out, and paige thinks for one heavenly moment that this is going to be an easy reroute. 

then, her map changes course. “um, az,” she starts, and then nearly crashes into azzi’s back with how quickly she stops.

“yes?”

paige buffers – there’s no way out of this. she has to fess up. “it says we're going the wrong way.”

“what?” azzi whirls around, peering at the displayed map. instead of saying two minutes, though, it now says six. azzi groans. “what the hell did you do?”

“i didn’t do anything!” paige laments, thrusting the phone to azzi. “it just changed, dude!” “first of all,” azzi starts, (and paige knows she’s in trouble the second azzi starts with first of all), “don’t dude me. secondly,” she reaches for paiges phone, “this is why i don’t let you put the directions in.”

paige scowls. “i was being gentlemanly!” 

“yeah, well, you’re –” azzi breaks off suddenly, eyes widening in disbelief. “paige!” 

paige squints. “what?” “you have it set to driving mode. that’s why it made us walk through that dumb parking lot.”

ah. paige hadn’t even considered that it was weird for them to be led through a parking lot. she was just following her girlfriend. her girlfriend who, unfortunately, was using her directions. 

“why would it be set to driving mode, anyways?” paige complains, reaching for her phone again. 

azzi yanks it out of her reach. “no, you’ve lost your map rights.”

“i can fix it, trust, i got it,” paige says – unconvincingly, considering this is now the second time she’s gotten them lost.

azzi hands her her own phone instead. “hold this,” she rolls her eyes, rerouting paiges phone once again. they’re ten minutes late by now. 

they’re three minutes into their (silent, because paige is afraid of azzi having a full-on crash out on her) walk, when azzi’s phone starts vibrating. paige picks it up without hesitation. “hello?”

caroline, on the other end, pauses. “paige?”

“yes ma’am.” 

“can i talk to azzi?”

paige scowls. “what, you don’t wanna talk to me?” caroline huffs on the other side. “no, its just that i called azzis phone because i was expecting azzi to pick up.”

paige, stubborn as an ox, rolls her eyes. “well, az has my phone, so you shoulda called mine if you wanted to talk to her.”

caroline guffaws. “how was i supposed to–” and then, her line cuts off.

paiges phone buzzes a second later.

azzi fights back a laugh at paige’s face as she lifts the phone to her ear. “hey, car.”

“hi, azzi. are you lost?”

“no,” azzi says, much too quickly for someone who is ten minutes late to dinner. 

caroline hums, sounding unconvinced. “okay, well, life360 says you’re two minutes away.”

paige, from behind azzi, can’t stop the “still?” that escapes her incredulously. azzi smacks her shoulder.

“okay, well, we might’ve been a little lost. but only because paige put the wrong addr–”

“i used KK’s location!” paige defends immediately, voice raising to be heard through the phone. azzi tries not to laugh.

thankfully, ice somehow knew exactly where paige and azzi were, and were able to successfully lead them to the bar.

when they finally get to the booth, azzi slides in across from paige with a huff. KK raises an eyebrow. “did you guys get lost?”

“for the last time,” paige groans, even though KK was obviously talking to azzi. her palms press into her eyes. “i put the wrong address in because i used your location,” she accuses.

KK’s nose scrunches. “well, you shouldnta done that, ‘cuz me ‘n ice went to get protein powder before we headed here.” “did you get it from rexnation?” azzi deadpans. paige laughs in response, glancing over at KK for her reaction – which is nothing short of amazed.

“how did you know that?”

[rippersz]

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IMAGINE AB HUMPING WITH AMBESSA MEDARDA…

(NSFW; Headcanon/blurb)

Ohhhh she’s slow and nasty with it.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

A room warmed by fire, a big comfortable bed, the linen so soft against your knees while your legs part to straddle her thighs.

Ambessa’s back pressed to the headboard, her hair still styled into war braids—too impatient to take them out. She’ll do it after, rather, when you’re successfully fucked into slumber.

Her eyes follow you, but they don’t stray from your face. She stares right into your soul, commanding attention, and she doesn’t look away even when you settle into her lap.

She’s cocky. Her arrogance and satisfaction is painted across her face with a smirk, with twinkling tawny eyes, with her set brow and her proud lifted chin. She has no qualms, ever, about being nude. Her body’s smooth beneath your own, her skin as soft as butter.

Even the scars beneath your hands hold a silky sensation as you slide them up to her shoulders, marveling (as per usual) at her muscles.

Her palms, coarse in certain spots, move to cradle your ass. Gods, her skin is warm. Like fire lapping at the places where she touches you. And when her arms flex and her fingers tighten and she moves your hips down, forcing your cunt against the crest of her lower abdominals, you suck in a hissing breath at the feeling. At the same time, she hums—low, like a purr—as she feels wet curls kiss her skin, quickly followed by the comfort of your weight.

She loves it.

Loves to look at you. And allows herself that as you release a breath, dragging her gaze of liquid metal over your body, from your hairline to each of your knees, before lingering on the space where you’re pressed against her.

“Someone’s eager…” even though she was the one to bring you close. It doesn’t matter. Her red-lipped smirk and quirked brow say enough.

It’s intoxicating to recognize her strength, to know that it coils within her body at all times, and that she can do anything she wants with you whenever she feels like it. She could flip you over if she got the urge, press your front into the sheets with your back arched and your legs spread, or she could lean forward and slip the inside of her forearms into the space behind your knees, tilt you back, and make you hold on as she thrusted with nothing attached to her hips. She could yank you up to her face, sit you on top of her smart mouth. She could shove you between her legs, make you pleasure her until she got bored. She could remove you from her lap and make you watch.

She could do all that and more.

But instead, she chooses to keep you there. Perched on her lap like a little present, slowly grinding your hips, feeling the bliss of her warm skin catching against your swelling clit.

Ambessa lets you use her for your pleasure. Lazy, letting out soft hums and breaths. She likes it, murmuring into your ear as you place your cheek against her shoulder.

“You were made to fit in my hands.”

“Sweet pet… it doesn’t take much for you, does it?”

“You’re whining, pup. I can smell your desperation.” And she says it all with a little chuckle, slow and languid. It makes your heart race.

She’s so good at maintaining her balance. Mean and kind. Degrading and praising. Nuzzling the space beside your ear with her nose, inhaling deeply to smell you.

“You missed me.” It’s only a true statement. You did. And she knows it.

After some time, her palms tighten on your hips and she steals the pace for herself, moving her touch along the curves of your thighs. She drags you faster, forcing a natural arch to your back as you roll your cunt into her skin. Faster. Faster. Faster. Hotter. Closer. Until you’re forced to keep up with her speed, hearing the slick of your arousal, only growing more desperate, weeping onto her stomach, as your noises fill the room. You can’t hold them in, can’t hide them, or else she’ll wrench your head back and make you moan with your mouth wide open. So you whimper, shifting to press your clammy forehead against her strong shoulder, and your eyes go blurry with ecstasy.

She smells so good. Like cinnamon, leather, jasmine, and something so unique to her that you take a few deep breaths to re-centre yourself and coat your lungs in her scent. It makes your heart pound, makes you jerk against her as she bites at the soft shell of your ear.

Wetness pools beneath you, slick against your thighs, and when you glance down to see the hills of her abs and the fullness of her chest, your cheeks glow red hot. A white creamy smear marks her dark skin, glistening in the low light, and you stare for a solid two minutes as your movements worsen it, spread it, matting the curled hair between your thighs.

She sees it too and tsks.

“Messy child,” Ambessa admonishes, but she’s still amused and has started leaving hot open-mouthed kisses along your neck, coaxing your head to relax against her while she controls your hips. Your pleasure. Your entire body and your soul.

Ambessa knows you want to cum, she can feel you clenching, your clit twitching, against her abs, eager to be full and sated. She can feel your shuddering under her hands, in her arms. She can feel the huffs of your breaths and sweet noises against her shoulder and throat. She can feel your soft skin, your breasts pressed against her own, her Venus mound wetted by the residuals of your arousal, she can feel you falling apart.

Now there’s only one question.

Will she let you?

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

:P - Rip xxxxxx

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[milla-frenchy]

Her

3k2 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: after Joel confides one of his fantasies to you one day, you make it come true Warnings: 18+ mdni. Established relationship, feelings, teasing, strap on/dildo, use of gags and ties, sub!joel, soft!joel, masturbation (f), oral (f/m), praise kink, piv, creampie

a/n: same couple: 5 days collection, but can be read alone ; Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing 💕😘

Joel grabbed your hand when you passed by him, then hugged you. His hand roamed the curve of your back while the other was brushing your neck, holding you softly against him. You loved when he held you close, you loved feeling his chest against yours, the warmth of his skin, his softness. He breathed in your hair then your neck, before kissing you there, just below your ear. His mustache and beard brushing your skin already made you moan. You were so deeply in love with him that his mere proximity always overwhelmed you. You felt yourself melt in his embrace and you ran your fingers along his brown curls then the back of his neck, keeping him close against you. 

Then he slid his hands to your hips and gently pushed you on the dining room table, as he whispered in your ear: “Lie down on the table, sweetheart. Wanna feel you on my tongue.” The atmosphere changed, as sweetness gave way to desire, already drawing a whimper from you.

But you forced yourself to move away from him and pressed on his shoulder to make him sit down on a chair.

“You and your filthy mouth…”, you said, looking from his eyes to his lips. Your pussy was aching more since you felt his hardness against you. You did your best, trying to ignore the muffled moans of your core, which was crying for his tongue on you.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about me and my filthy mouth, baby?”

You didn't answer, you needed to keep a cool head and not let your desire make you forget what you had in mind. And you wanted to play with him. Tease him. You walked around the chair and kissed his neck, sliding your hand from his torso to his crotch.

“Already hard, Mr Miller?”

“Well…I’ve been seeing that damn ass spinning in front of my face for 5 minutes… Course I’m hard, sweetheart.” He manspread to allow you to seize his hard cock more easily, but you pulled back, kneeling behind him. You grabbed his hands and crossed his wrists against the back of the chair. Then you took two skinny scarfs out of your pocket and used one to tie his hands together. He let you do it. You both knew your boundaries and body language perfectly, so you were sure he was ok with it. 

“Mmmm… What are you doing?”

“You’re gonna be a good boy, baby, and let me use you.”

“A good boy? Really?”

“Yeah”, you smirked. “A good, silent boy.”

You used the other scarf to cover his mouth, tying it at the back of his head. You brushed his shoulder as you came back in front of him.

“And I’m gonna play with you.”

His gaze became piercing, and you smiled when you saw his cock twitch in his jeans. 

You pulled up a chair and sat across from him, legs crossed. Sliding your calf against your bent knee. Your short skirt was hiked up to your thighs, and Joel's eyebrows were furrowed, creating several lines on his forehead.

“It makes me so horny to see you like this. Powerless. Tied and gagged. You have no idea.”

You heard him growl and you liked it, as it awakened something deep within you. So far, Joel was always in charge. Even when you rode him, when you used him, you felt power in his touch and in his eyes. And you loved it. But something else was growing in you this evening, and you were already enjoying this novelty. 

You uncrossed your legs and spread them wide, allowing Joel to see your panties. He leaned forward slightly, instinctively. Restrained by the bonds, he shook his head slowly. And god you liked it too.

“Wanna see how wet I am, Joel?” you asked, grabbing the hem of your skirt and lifting your ass slightly off the chair, before pulling it up to your waist. Your fingers brushed your thighs from your knees to the hem of your panties. You pulled them aside and asked “do you see me dripping?”

He swallowed and nodded. His eyes were fixed on you, and you read him like an open book. Part of him wanted more than anything to take back control. The other part was willing to let you manage and see how far you would go.

You also saw his love and desire for you, and it encouraged you to continue and not let certain insecurities or shyness make you doubt yourself.

“Perfect,” you added, before running a finger along your soaked pussy. “I bet you’d like to taste your pussy? Don't you?"

He tried to speak but his words were muffled by the scarf. You knew that if you released him then he would rush to you and press your chest against the table before thrusting into you roughly. But you had to wait for that, too. He would fulfill your desire a little later.

“I’m gonna have to do it myself, since you can’t”, you continued, before sucking your wet finger. Another growl came from the depth of his chest, a little more painful this time. You knew how much he loved to lap at your cunt. Often pulling multiple orgasms out of you, breathing a “one more, sweetheart. Give me one more, I know you can do that for me”, between your thighs until your limbs felt like a rag doll and you had to beg him to stop. 

“Mmmm… I understand why you like her so much, baby. Too bad you can’t taste her. Or fuck her. She'd love that. But she's gonna have to wait, just like you.”

You brushed your folds again, spreading the garment wide with your other hand. Adding more wetness to your index finger, before rubbing your clit.

“I guess I’m gonna have to make myself come, baby…”

His eyes turned black and you focused on your sensations. Touching yourself in front of him was turning you on and your pussy was dripping through your folds.

“It’s so good, baby…I’m gonna come soon. Or maybe I could play a little with a dildo? Let you watch me fuck myself on it. While your cock is just begging me to take its place.”

He mumbled something that sounded like "sweetheart" but you didn’t stop. A few more caresses were enough to make you cum, your thighs wide apart in front of him, making you close your eyes for a few seconds under the effect of your pleasure.

“Didn’t even have time to play with a sex toy…”

You pulled your panties back into place and stood up, running your finger under his nose, tormenting him with a scent that he inhaled immediately.

“You’d love to lick my finger, wouldn’t you? Feel my taste on your tongue? But not this time.”

You ran your hand through his curls, before adding, “you’re so obedient, baby…I’m proud of you.” Joel rolled his eyes and you added “I know, I know, you don’t really have a choice. Let's free that cock, baby. It must be so cramped.”

You knelt down and grabbed his worn jeans, sliding them down his thighs as he helped you by lifting his ass. The tent under his boxers made you smile. A wet stain was visible on the fabric. You slid them down and his cock stood up proudly. His tip was red and oozing.

“Oh poor baby”, you breathed. You took off the garment. His head was lowered towards his crotch, and he looked up from his cock to your eyes. Imploring.

Your thumb brushed against his slit, spreading the precum over it. The tip of your tongue licked it and his cock twitched.

“Show me that you want me to suck your cock,” you asked. Teasing him. But there wasn’t any darkness in his eyes anymore. He nodded quickly, craning his pelvis forward.

You took him into your mouth, moving up and down his shaft. Rounding your lips, and slowly progressing to accustom your mouth then your throat to his thickness. Joel’s restrained moans were sweet music to your ears. When you pulled back and licked the length of his shaft, then his balls one by one, his moans became grunts. You stopped and looked at him.

“You love it? You love how I suck your cock, baby? How I can take all of it into my mouth and throat?”

He moaned, letting you know he wanted more.

“I know, baby. But I need you to do something for me. I’ll be back in a few minutes, be good” you said, before kissing his cheek. He gave you a pleading look. “Be good, I said.”

When you came back and his gaze fell on you, if a scarf hadn't covered his mouth you would have seen his jaw drop. You were naked except for a strap on.

Communication has always been one of the pillars of your relationship. The discussion of your respective fantasies, “yes”, “no”, “maybe”, had been set up from the start.

“No judgment?” he once said. “Never, baby. We’re in a safe zone. No judgment, I swear”, you replied before kissing him gently. “OK. So… I think one day I would like to give up control. Ehm… Sexually. I don't know if I can really be submissive. But I’ve always had some fantasies, and you’re the one with whom I’d want to achieve them. If you agree.” “I am so grateful that you trust me, that we trust each other completely. Tell me more.” “Me too, sweetheart. I… I’d love to see you wear a strap on.” Your eyes sparkled when you heard him. “How would you want me to use it?” He took a deep breath and added, “I wish you were completely in charge. That you imposed things on me. And… made me suck a dildo.” The wave of desire that washed over your body in that moment was intense. “Fuck, Joel…Yeah… yeah! We’ll do it, I promise.”

You knew he was thinking about that conversation, as you had been thinking about it for several days, imagining how you wanted to make his fantasy come true and to make it perfect. And then you chose the day. Today.

His eyes traveled up and down your body, before remaining fixed on the strap on. He finally looked up at you. You pointed your chin at him, making sure he was still up for it. He nodded slowly, without an ounce of hesitation.

As you approached him, wearing only the harness and the dildo attached to it, you watched him devour you with his gaze. You stopped in front of him, the sextoy a few inches from his face. He looked up at you again, and a multitude of emotions were visible there. Desire, impatience, some shyness. Love. And you almost heard butterflies whispering “Joel, Joel, Joel” in your stomach.

“I’m gonna remove your gag now baby. Wanna see your lips.”

You untied the scarf, and Joel’s deep breathing filled the room as he was looking at the strap on. The model you chose was a medium size. You didn't want to impose a sextoy of a size equivalent to his cock. For now.

“You know what I’d love, baby? I’d love to see you on your knees for me, while you suck that cock. Will you do that?”

His eyes rose up at you and he nodded.

“Words, baby. You know the rules, right?”

He smirked, probably thinking how much he loved to see you act like him, and said, “yes”.

“So, you're gonna be a good boy for me, Joel? You’re gonna suck it, on your knees for me?”

“Fuck”, he breathed, looking at you. “Yeah, I’m gonna suck that cock.”

Hearing him created a new wave of desire in your core. Your Joel, this sexually perfect man, had so much confidence in you and your relationship that he was going to fulfill his fantasy with you. You untied him and he rubbed his wrists, then knelt. His hard cock was throbbing. You moved closer to him, the dildo in your hand, and presented it within reach of his mouth.

“Spit on it, baby. Make it wet.”

He let his saliva flow and watched it slide. “That’s good. Lick the tip, then place your lips around it.”

You placed your hand on his head as he did what you asked. Touching him tenderly, without rushing him. You could feel a lot of emotions, swirling inside his head, and you wanted him to feel good. Safe.

He licked it gently, taking his time to get used to this sensation that was new for him. Then he took the dildo into his mouth.

“Yeah, just like that. Suck it, baby.”

He looked up at you, and his feral gaze was back. Seeing him on his knees, sucking it while looking at you, was one of the hottest things you've ever seen. You cherished that he trusted himself, and you, to make his fantasy come true. Gifting you with it.

“Show me how good you are at sucking a cock, Joel. I’m so turned on right now, seeing you like that, baby.”

He licked the shaft, then took it in his mouth again, while you held the base in your hand. The other one, still on his head, brushing his curls.

“You like that, baby?”

He mumbled a ‘yes’, without stopping.

“Good boy. You’re doing well.”

His movements were more confident and he moaned.

“That’s it, moan for me, baby.” You were soaked, and couldn’t stop thinking about the moment when you would feel his length inside you. Filling you completely. 

Your fingers tightened on his curls.

He kept sucking, applying himself, until he realized how much you were squirming.

“Oh baby… come here. Lemme take care of you”, he said, grabbing your hips. Quickly, he untied the strap on and let it slip on the floor. Then he pulled you towards him, licking your folds. Buried his tongue between them impatiently, to finally feel you.

“Joel…” you whined.

“You’re so wet, baby. It really turned you on, mmm?”

“Yes…. but I need… I need-”

“I know baby, I know. You need to feel me. I’m gonna fuck you.” He got up and leaned you against the table, standing in front of you. Ready to fill you, his thick cock already in his hand, but the way you squeezed his shoulders made him stop. He frowned, cupped your cheek in his hand and asked “what is it, baby?”

“I need to feel your body on me”, you murmured. You were overwhelmed with the emotion of realizing his fantasy. The fact that you were the one he chose to do it. Now, feeling him in you, his body pressed against you, was all you needed. Your cheeks in his hands, he kissed you with his soft and warm lips, removed his shirt, then said “come with me, sweetheart”, his large hand gripping yours, and he led you to the bedroom. 

Lying on the bed, he positioned himself between your legs and looked into your eyes. Nestling his cock at your entrance, he thrust in slowly. You whimpered when his shaft spread your folds, your legs around his waist. He didn’t stop until his balls were pressed against your skin. 

“I need to feel you.. I need it so much.”

“I'm here, baby…I'm here.”

“Can you…stop moving, please?’

“Of course, sweetheart.”

You started moving your pelvis back and forth, fucking yourself on his cock slowly.

“Fuck, baby…”

“Joel, I…I just love you so much.”

“Sweetheart…I love you so much too. You're the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“God, I love your cock so much too” you whined, and he chuckled then kissed your forehead. You kept leading the pace around his shaft at a perfect angle, allowing you to brush your clit against his lower stomach.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Use me. Just use me as you need it. Shit, it's so hot to feel you fuck yourself on my cock like that.”

He covered you with kisses, from your lips to your cheeks to your forehead. His arms under your shoulders, you felt protected and loved. The complete trust you had in each other, the vulnerability he allowed himself to show you had made you emotional. You had reached a new stage in your relationship, and your feelings for him were stronger than ever. You focused on your building orgasm, and of course he felt it.

“Come for me, baby”, he murmured in your ear.

Your body obeyed him, clenching on his shaft multiple times and creaming his cock as both your moans were filling the bedroom. Overwhelmed by your pleasure, you barely realized that he was holding back from cumming at the same time as you. That he wanted more.

He caressed your cheek with his thumb, as you gradually regained your senses. Your gaze finally landed on his eyes fixed on you. He was smiling. His gaze was so soft that you felt yourself falling even more in love, if it was possible.

“I love how you’re looking at me right now, sweetheart”, he said softly as the corner of his lip turned into a tender smile.

You smiled shyly, and replied “it’s your turn, baby. Use me, take what you need.”

He kissed your lips and started to thrust in.

“I’m gonna fuck you slowly. Wanna feel your folds spreading for me. You’re so good for me, baby. Always so good for my cock. Always so fucking tight.”

He kept caressing your cheeks, thrusting in slowly before pulling back, keeping the same pace over and over, knowing that you needed him gently.

“Thank you for what you did for me. It was perfect. You’re perfect”, he whispered, offering you one of those moments of unity that you loved so much. Those moments when you were one, physically and mentally. As if you were the only two people in the world.

You caressed his cheek too, and asked softly “you liked it? Is it what you wished for?”

“I loved it. I couldn't have dreamed it to be better.”

His hips continued to roll and you didn’t take your eyes off him.

“I’m yours, sweetheart. You know that, right? From the beginning, from the first day perhaps, I was yours.”

“Jesus Joel.. I know, baby, I know. Oh… it's so good to feel you in me like that.”

“And that sweet little cunt… is mine. She’s mine. Oh fuck, babe… I’m gonna… I’m gonna come.”

You held him close to you, and whispered in his ear “she’s yours. And I’m yours. And we want to feel you dripping off us all night.”

“Fuck…sweetheart you can’t tell me things like that… Oh shit… Shit!” he said one last time, before freezing deep in your cunt, as deep as he could, and painted your walls for a moment that seemed to last forever.

You held him against you until his breathing slowed. Keeping him a little more inside you for a few minutes, feeling his cock soften. When he finally laid down next to you, you rested your head on his shoulder and your hand on his broad torso, where you were always feeling so safe. He put his arm around you and brushed your skin with his thumb.

“So... have I been a good boy?” he asked playfully. Of course he knew he had been.

“You were perfect, Joel” you replied, pinching him gently.

“Ouch,” he whined then laughed, and you giggled. God, you loved him so much. 

Same couple: 5 days collection

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[slutoru1207]

https://www.tumblr.com/linkwho1/777658992351739904/youll-never-get-away-from-the-sound-of-a-woman

IK u would eat with this concept

I hope you like this 😭😭😭

The Sound of a Woman Who Loves You

(Mark Variants x Fem!Reader)

The hum of the city below was drowned out by the quiet tension in the room. Each Variant of Mark Grayson was there, standing in the shadows of the dimly lit space, watching you. You knew they weren’t here to harm you—they couldn’t, not really—but something about their presence felt overwhelming, suffocating even.

The first to speak was Sinister Mark, his expression cold and unreadable. He stepped forward, his voice low and commanding, "You should have known better than to trust anyone, especially me." There was no warmth in his words, only the chilling reality of someone who saw everything as a chessboard, and you, just another pawn.

You took a step back, feeling the weight of the room press in on you. Full Mask Mark didn’t move a muscle, but his gaze was sharp, his eyes calculating. “You think you can escape all of this? Us? You’re wrong,” he said, his tone both matter-of-fact and unsettling. There was something about the mask that made his words feel more like a command than a question.

Mohawk Mark, ever so impatient, let out a soft sigh. “Come on, just come with me,” he said, his voice softer but still holding that air of authority. It was a plea wrapped in a demand, like he couldn’t quite fathom why you weren’t just listening to him. “I know it’s confusing. I can help. You don’t have to be alone in this.”

Then, Viltrumite Mark spoke, his voice the deepest, most powerful of all. His words had a weight to them, not just because of his strength but because of the truth they carried. “You think you can outrun me? Outlive me? I will always be with you, in every version of me.” His voice resonated, a reminder that no matter how far you ran, there was always a part of him chasing you, clinging to you.

But then, OmniMark—the version that knew too well what was at stake—spoke with a mixture of warmth and regret. He stepped forward, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of you, so different from the woman he’d once known, yet so familiar. “You’ll never get away from the sound of a woman that loves you,” he said, his voice breaking with emotion, “No matter how many times I’ve tried, no matter how many versions of myself there are, you’re always there in my mind. Always in my heart.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words crash over you. No matter the version of Mark you faced, no matter how different their paths had been, they all shared that one thing: an unrelenting love for you, one that cut through time, through space, through every possible reality.

And it was suffocating.

You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breath. “I can’t...” you started, your voice breaking slightly, “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep running.”

The room fell silent, each Mark standing in his own space, waiting. It was Sinister Mark who finally spoke, a flicker of something unexpected in his eyes—perhaps it was guilt, or maybe a moment of clarity. “You can’t outrun what’s inside you,” he said softly, “but you don’t have to. Not if you face it. Face us.”

And in that moment, you realized something. No matter how many times you tried to leave, no matter how far you ran, these Marks would always be with you. Not in a controlling, suffocating way, but in a way that was so deeply rooted in their souls—your love for them, and theirs for you.

Perhaps the real battle wasn’t against them, but against yourself. Against the fear of what that love could mean in this tangled web of timelines and choices.

It was overwhelming. But you knew, deep down, that you couldn’t truly escape the love that had always been there. No matter how many different versions of Mark stood before you, it would always be his voice, their voices, that would echo in your mind.

You weren’t sure where you went from here, but you knew that you’d never be alone in the fight. “I love you too,” you whispered, barely audible, but enough for the right Mark to hear it.

And for a moment, everything went quiet.

[kymerawrites]

How much it hurt standing right there, on the balcony of his two-story house, the thought of him getting married to another woman tomorrow was making your heart bleed. You leaned against the railing with a frown on your face, a glass of champagne in your hand and your eyes throwing daggers at the moon. Simon decided to invite all Task Force 141 for a drink the night before the big day, you could hear them all laughing and cheering downstairs in the living room, but you couldn’t even put a small smile on your lips.

You loved him and he loved you back, you thought things could still work between the two of you, he thought differently. He didn’t know how to show his love, his care, it hurt you and he knew it perfectly, that’s why he decided to break things off with you. And now? After one year you still haven’t moved on and now he was going to marry another woman. You heard someone clear his voice and immediately turned around, Simon was there with his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes staring deeply at yours, “shym.. Why are you here alone?” He asked, his tone holding a little sadness.

You let out a scoff before turning your gaze down towards the garden, watching a couple of butterflies landing perfectly on the grass, “because I’d rather not be around for this,” you muttered, the grip on your glass of champagne tightening. He sighed and walked closer to you, joining you in standing against the railing of the balcony and keeping a respectful distance.

“You’re invited, why would you not want to be here?” He asked with a raised eyebrow before letting his gaze drop on you. You rolled your eyes and drank half of the liquid from your glass before replying, “Because I don’t want to watch my ex-boyfriend getting married to another woman.” You murmured with bitterness in your tone.

“Even though we’re still colleagues, I cannot just act like I don’t care Simon..” I took a big chug of my wine before looking down to the grass

His eyes softened as he realized how you truly felt about the situation, he could blame nobody but himself. He was the stupid one. He let out another heavy sigh and leaned against the railing, his shoulders dropping and his body slightly falling forward, as if a weight was on his shoulders, “I know-“ he paused and closed his eyes before continuing, “but the decision has been taken.”

“Why mia… why her Simon what was so special about her that overshadowed me?”

“You want me to tell you why did I choose her?” He asked and you could just hear how tired and frustrated his voice was. You turned your head to look at him and saw how tired he looked, probably tired from hearing the same question for the past few weeks after he told you that he was going to marry her and not you, “yes,” you said in a stern voice, “why her and not me?”

Simon thought for a split second “Mia, she was someone who saved my life, kept me company while I was almost dying on that battlefield..and we just fell for eachother, I couldn’t let that eat me up.”

Your heart dropped as Simon spoke, he fell for her while you were waiting for him here. You felt a pang of jealousy and anger towards her just from hearing the words leaving his mouth. You turned your body fully towards him and narrowed your eyes at his face.

“You fell for her on the battlefield?” You asked in disbelief, “while I was here waiting and worrying for you?”

He slowly nodded his head. “You don’t understand, she kept me company while I was in my lowest point during those days on the battlefield, I-“ he paused and licked his lips as he remembered those days where he didn’t give a damn if he lived or died and he was close to death so many times, yet Mia was there, taking care of him and talking to him as he just laid there, unable to speak or move.

Your eyes widened in shock and slight anger. “You don’t think I understood that?” You exclaimed, “Simon I was there for you too, I was texting you, calling you, worrying about your state every night!” You paused as you felt your eyes starting to heat “I was praying that you’d come back safely, that you’d come back home to me, but-“ you bit the inside of your cheek and took a deep breath as you tried not to yell at him, “but no- Instead you fell in love with another woman.”

He could basically hear your voice breaking as you spoke and his heart ached every second. “I know-“ he tried to speak up, but you didn’t let him, the last drop of rage finally hit you and you snapped at him.

“You know? Then why!? Why didn’t you choose me? Didn’t you love me like you love her!? Didn’t you care for me like you care for her!?” You yelled at him, not being able to hold your emotions back now.

“Of course I did! You know I did!“ He yelled back as he lifted his head and clenched his jaw, his hazel eyes staring deeply into yours. You looked straight into his eyes and felt a tear run down your cheek, “Then why?” You asked in a weak voice, “if you loved me and cared about me why didn’t you choose me instead?”

Another sigh escaped his lips and he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Because it’s different with her!“ He yelled back and he saw how another tear fell from your eye. He was hurting you, but he didn’t know how to explain you why it was different, “I don’t know how to explain” he spoke in a much calmer tone and leaned against the railing again, “she’s just different..”

I nodded “ah yes, because she never made mistakes, she was soft, loving and caring..” I paused “and I always did the opposite. Because I am harsh, an ex maffia member, someone who was obsessed with the thrill of life or death, money..” I looked at him angrily “is that the reason?”

Simon stayed silent for a few moments, thinking about your words. He knew that what you were saying was completely true, you have never been the soft or gentle type of woman, you could never love him as fiercely as Mia did. He lowered his gaze to his feet for a second and bit his lower lip before replying. “It is part of the reason-“

Your heart shattered even more as he confirmed your thoughts. “That’s exactly why isn’t it?“ You said in an almost inaudible whisper. “She loves you like a real lover should do.. while I do the opposite..” you muttered almost to yourself.

You chuckled humorlessly and shook your head, looking up at the night sky to hold your tears from falling down your face. “And the other reasons..?” You whispered, knowing you were stepping into a minefield.

He took a deep breath and let it out before answering your question. “It’s a.. lot of reasons actually.” He said in a much calmer voice than before. He could see and hear the pain in your voice and it made him want to comfort you, but he couldn’t do that. Not anymore. Not after everything.

“Then name them.“ You looked at him again, holding back all the emotions that were swirling in your brain, “tell me all the reasons that made you fall out of love for me and fall in love with her.”

He grunted and closed his eyes for a second before looking into your eyes again “first reason, the one you already guessed, is her nature. She’s sweet, gentle, kind, loving, she takes care of me when I need it.” He said in a low voice, his eyes locked into yours.

“Second,” he paused as he leaned forward and his body was now facing you fully, “she knows when to stop arguing and when to give in, she’s not stubborn like you.” He said without thinking and winced slightly.

He knew that the next reasons were going to rip you apart, that’s why he was taking time to give the perfect answer. “She’s not some mobster and a con.” He said in a cold tone as he looked up at you again.

Your eyes widened in shock when he spoke, you couldn’t believe that part of the reason was the fact that you were once a mafia member. “You-“ you spoke in a weak voice “you’re using my past as a reason?” You let out a humorless chuckle and shake your head.

“Don’t act surprised,” he said in a dry tone “you’re a criminal. A con woman and now an ex mobster.” He crossed his arms over his chest and slightly lifted his chin, staring into your eyes with a blank expression, “what do you expect?”

His cold words and expression felt like daggers into your heart and you closed your eyes momentarily to hold back your tears. “I know what I was, but I never expected you to use it against me.” You said in a quiet voice.

“You know how I was forced in that and the horrific situations I experienced and needed to endure..”

He bit his lip and his body tensed when you spoke about your past, he remembered hearing your stories more than once. He knew it was cruel to use that against you, but he just wanted you to understand, “Yes I do..” he said in a serious and firm voice “and that’s another part of the problem.”

“I don’t want to hear it anymore Simon… I couldn’t get over you because I love you.. or well loved you.” A tear welled up in my eye “you just proved me why I should not even want to speak to you again.”

He clenched his jaw when he saw the tear rolling down your face and closed his eyes tightly. He wanted to reach over and wipe the tear off your face, his hands were itching to feel your skin again, but he knew he couldn’t touch you. This was already too painful for both of you. He looked at you again and saw how much pain you were in. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said in a low tone, “I just wanted you to understand..”

“Understand your bullshit reasons to marry another woman,” you whispered and wiped the tear off your face with the back of your hand. You couldn’t take this anymore, hearing him give you so many reasons why he won’t choose you was slowly killing you.

He flinched slightly when you cursed, he also couldn’t stand seeing you in pain like that. “Those same bullshit reasons are the ones I’m choosing her over YOU!“ He snapped. He was losing control of his emotions hearing you speak and seeing your hurting expression.

“Then why are you still trying to explain them to me?” You spoke, feeling your anger rise as well, getting tired of his attitude. “You already chose her, you’re going to marry her tomorrow, then why are you wasting your time to explain me something you shouldn’t?!”

He let out a scoff and leaned more towards you, “Because I don’t want you to think that I’m only doing this out of spite! I’m in love with her okay?! And I’m going to marry her because I want to, I want to spent the rest of my life with her!” He yelled at you, letting out all his bottled up emotions.

I just stayed silent and looked at the stars in the sky before turning my face back to him “then I wish you well in live Simon.” And I walked downstairs towards the door

His heart sank when you walked away like that, you just stopped fighting, you just gave up. “That’s it?” He said in disbelief before he started walking after you, closing the distance between the two of you in a few strong steps. He grabbed your arm and stopped you from walking.

He turned you around so that you would be facing him and held your arm firmly to prevent you from walking away from him. He stared into your eyes as he spoke, his voice low. “That’s it?” he repeated, “you’re just leaving? Not even going to fight for me?”

You felt like your emotions were about to explode anytime now, he had no right to speak like that. “What the hell do you want me to do?!” You almost shouted, looking him straight in the eyes, “what more am I supposed to say!? You don’t want me, you chose another woman! I’m not going to fight when it’s already lost.”

He tightened his jaw and his grip on your arm. He didn’t know why he was so upset when you said those words. He should’ve been happy that you gave up, but he wanted to see the feisty woman that never surrender, he wanted you to fight for him. But the words you were saying to him made his heart ache. You were giving up on him, you just accepted that he was marrying another woman.

His expression softened when he saw more tears in your eyes and he slowly loosened his grip on your arm, holding it gently now. He took a deep breath and looked into your eyes, his voice calm. “Say something. Yell at me, tell me I’m a bastard, that you hate me. Anything.”

You inhaled a shaky breath and tried to hold back your tears. Seeing him like this made your heart ache as well, but you knew you had to be strong, “What for? Do you want me to humiliate myself and beg you to pick me? Beg you that you will see how much I love you?”

“Well guess what Simon, I want you to thrive in your upcoming marriage and I don’t want to be seen as an obstacle, I don’t want to see you again Simon..” and I walked out the door and shut it close

And at that moment I felt like I lost myself, lost control. I called Shepard to surrender myself from the army and called an old friend of mine.

I called Amanda “shym is that really you? Girl we’ve missed you so much!”

Amanda’s excited tone on the other side of the phone made your heart clench slightly, you missed your old friend. A lot.

“How is angels palace doing Amanda? I want to come back. I miss everyone..”

“Oh we’re all good but we all miss your presence!” Amanda said in a cheerful tone “Come back here you crazy bitch, we all miss our queen.”

I smiled as tears welled up in my eyes again “so my dad isn’t angry at me leaving him?”

“Yeah he’s still sulking about it“ said Amanda before bursting into laughter “it’s kinda funny whenever someone mentions you, he just puffs like an angry child. But I know and everyone knows that secretly he’s missing your smartass comebacks.”

“And most of all his backbone, you were thriving and making us a lot of money, you need to come back.. Sol.”

A chuckle escaped your lips when she used your old name, nobody called you like that anymore. “Stop it, you’re making me miss that place even more. I swear to God if I get home and I don’t see my favorite drink at the bar I’m going to strangle your ass.”

“My flight leaves at 9 AM, I’ll see you around 7 PM in the evening alright?”

“Perfect, just be prepared to drink tons of my good old cocktails.” Amanda said and you could sense the excitement in her voice.

I drove home and instantly packed all my belongings and my cat, couldn’t leave the poor guy behind. I left my keys in the plant pot and put a note for my tenant that I payed last month rent and I’ve moved out.

After everything was in your bags and the car, you sat down in the driver’s seat and drove straight to the airport. You were already excited to see your old home again and meet your old friends, but your heart still ached from the whole Simon situation.

You checked in your bag and sat down in the waiting area for your flight. People were all around you, walking, chatting, all seemed normal. But you felt heavy and tired, you couldn’t get Simon’s face out of your head. You closed your eyes to rest for a moment.

You were awakened by the announcement on the speakers that your flight was about to start boarding up. You slowly opened your eyes and stood up from your sit, grabbing your bags. You slowly made your way to the boarding desk, showing the worker your ticket before making your way onto the plane.

Time to go back to bogota..

You made your way to your seat at the plane and strapped the seatbelt around your waist. You inhaled a deep breath and closed your eyes for a moment, trying not to think about Simon.

‘He’s marrying that stuck up doctor today, I hope everything goes well for them’ I thought

Even thinking that made your heart ache. You hated the thought of him marrying another woman. You took a deep breath and took out your headphones, deciding to play some music to distract yourself.

The flight seemed long, but at least the loud music was helping you to distract from your thoughts. You were listening to some of your favorite songs when the pilot announced your arrival to Bogota.

Back in London it was Simon, trying to call you multiple times since yesterday

He sat alone in his kitchen with his head resting on his crossed forearms. He hasn’t slept and he had bags under his eyes. He picked his phone up again and called your number, hoping that this time you would answer.

He tapped his foot on the floor anxiously and held his breath, listening to the beeping. But then he heard your voicemail again, causing his expression to tense up. He growled in irritation and was about to throw the phone but he quickly stopped himself and called your number again.

He impatiently waited for your voice but heard your voicemail again. He let out another loud sigh and leaned against his chair, covering his face with one of his hands. He was getting fed up, why weren’t you answering?

He dropped his hands from his face and looked at Soap who was grinning widely. He let out a scoff and rolled his eyes with annoyance, “Yeah I’m marrying her today, not even a bloody congratulations?”

Soap scoffed as well and shook his head, “I wouldn’t compliment your choice mate and you know that” he said and sat down next to him, patting his shoulder “are you actually going through with this?”

He leaned back in his seat and avoided eye contact with Soap, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Why wouldn’t I?” He asked in a rough tone, “she’s the one I’m marrying in a couple of hours remember?”

Soap narrowed his eyes at him “because you haven’t slept at all, and you haven’t even spoken to your fiancé since yesterday” he said in a suspicious tone, he knew his friend well and knew that something was wrong.

He averted his gaze from Soap and clenched his jaw. He hadn’t spoken to her, he had called her multiple times but you weren’t answering him, which irritated him even more. He hated the fact that he was having second thoughts and he hated the fact that you still had such an effect on him. “I’m just stressed about the whole marriage situation.” He lied.

Soap chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest, “You, stressed? You’re one of the most calm and composed guys I know” he said in a disbelieving tone, he knew he was hiding something.

He let out a loud scoff and finally looked up at Soap, his expression still tense “even I can get stressed sometimes Soap. Can you just cut me some slack for now?”

Soap raised his hands in defense and gave him a smirk, “Alright mate settle down, was just messing with you” he said and gave him a playful pat on his shoulder “but seriously, are you alright?”

He inhaled a shaky breath and leaned his head back to rest on his chair. He had never opened up to anyone about something like that before. But Soap was his close friend and he trusted him the most out of everyone. He let out a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling “No, I’m not.” He admitted slowly.

“It’s shym.” He said bluntly

Soap’s eyebrows knotted together in confusion “shym? What about her?” He asked in disbelief.

He let out a tired exhale and closed his eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair before looking at Soap “She just won’t leave my mind, every time I try to stop thinking about her she’s still there” he admitted, he felt relieved that he was finally telling someone about how he felt, especially Soap who was his best friend.

“You still love shym don’t you..” he said firmly

He stayed silent for a moment, his expression tense. He slowly looked up at Soap and nodded “yeah, I still love her, more than anyone in the world” he admitted in a firm tone “I never stopped loving her.”

Soap raised his eyebrows in surprise. Out of all the possibilities of why his friend was so distracted, he didn’t expect his to say that. “Then why are you marrying another woman?” He asked in disbelief.

Simon looked at soap “because I also love Mia, a lot.. and she’s a better option.”

Soap let out a scoff and rolled his eyes, “How the hell is she a better option? Mate, you’re marrying a woman that you don’t even love that much, instead of the woman you truly love, do you even hear yourself right now?”

He looked away and clenched his jaw stubbornly “Mia is everything I need. She doesn’t distract me with her stupidity, she actually supports me and is there for me. She’s everything I need” he said as he tried to convince himself it was the truth.

Soap rolled his eyes and stood up from his chair, “That’s such bullshit mate and you know it.” He said in an annoyed tone, “You can’t marry a woman that’s not the one that you truly love. Can’t you just pull your head out of your ass and admit that you love shym?”

“It’s already too late, shym left with no trace.. I said some hurtful stuff yesterday and no one can find her now..”

Soap’s eyes widened in surprise and his heart ached for his friend. He didn’t want to believe that it was already too late. He walked back towards him and placed his hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze “She can’t have disappeared like that, she must be somewhere..”

And now i returned to the hotel a coverup for a secret organization that trades and smuggles drugs and other stuff.

As you walked into the palace you saw many people who were close to your family or that you had done business with before. They all looked surprised but somewhat happy to see that you had returned. As soon as your father saw you, he exclaimed and spread his arms wide open before pulling you into a tight and emotional embrace.

“Family! My backbone has returned!”

All the people in the room clapped and cheered as you appeared. Your father kept his arm around your shoulders and held you close to him as he spoke out to everyone in the room. “My daughter has finally returned” he said in a proud tone, “I missed her so much, I cannot believe that she has returned to us, my family is finally reunited once more!”

PART 2 SOON

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Possibly but of a strange request but Charlie’s half blood partner explaining to his dad how planes fly and the function of a rubber duck?

I distinctly remember him asking at least one of these to Harry in the movies and it actually made me look up the answer as well lol

A/n: He did 🤣 , Arthur is so pure and adorable.

Arthur Weasley’s fascination with Muggle inventions knew no bounds, and as Charlie’s partner, you had long since accepted that part of your relationship meant answering his father’s never-ending stream of questions. Today, you found yourself in the Burrow’s kitchen, explaining two very different, yet equally perplexing, Muggle objects to Arthur—airplanes and rubber ducks.

Arthur sat across from you, eyes gleaming with excitement, as he eagerly leaned in. “Now, tell me again—how does a plane fly? There’s no magic involved, and yet it stays in the air?” His voice was filled with pure wonder, as if the concept itself was more impossible than dragons breathing fire.

You smiled, exchanging an amused glance with Charlie, who was barely holding back laughter. “Right, so airplanes rely on something called aerodynamics. The wings are designed in a special shape that helps create lift. When the engines push the plane forward, the air moves over and under the wings at different speeds. This difference in pressure makes the plane rise.”

Arthur gasped, gripping the edge of the table. “Fascinating! The air lifts it? But… how does it stay up? Surely it should fall at some point?”

“Well, as long as the engines keep providing thrust and the wings keep generating lift, it stays in the air,” you explained patiently. “Of course, when it needs to land, the pilot reduces the speed, and the plane comes down gently.”

Arthur’s mouth opened and closed, his brain clearly working overtime to process this completely non-magical feat. “Incredible. Utterly incredible! And you say Muggles travel in these all the time?”

Charlie finally spoke up, grinning. “Yeah, Dad. And they don’t even think twice about it.”

Arthur shook his head in pure amazement before his expression shifted into one of equal seriousness. “And… what of the rubber duck? What function does it serve?”

You stifled a laugh, having expected this question at some point. “Well… it doesn’t really do anything. It’s just a bath toy for children. You know, something to make bath time fun.”

Arthur frowned deeply, as though this answer troubled him on a profound level. “So… it has no purpose?”

Charlie groaned playfully, rubbing his face. “Dad, you’ve asked this for years, and the answer hasn’t changed.”

“But surely,” Arthur insisted, eyes darting between you and Charlie, “there must be some hidden use. Perhaps a clever storage device? A method of detecting magical interference? A secret message carrier?” He looked utterly scandalized at the idea that Muggles would create something purely for fun.

You chuckled, reaching over to pat his hand. “I promise you, Arthur—it’s just a toy.”

Arthur sat back, still looking dubious, as if he refused to believe Muggles would make something with absolutely no practical function. After a moment, he sighed dramatically. “Muggle ingenuity never ceases to amaze me. Planes that defy logic and ducks with no purpose. Truly, they are a remarkable people.”

Charlie burst out laughing, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You’ll never convince him, love. Just accept it.”

You grinned, shaking your head as Arthur Weasley sat back, utterly delighted by the mysteries of the Muggle world, even if some of them would always remain completely beyond his comprehension.

[twilght-talks]

do a minsu x reader where minsu cry’s over smth and reader hugs and comforts him because he isn’t afraid to cry and he falls in love with her cause she i kind and sweet and she’s had a crush on him

Falling For You

Warnings: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!

The dorm is quieter than usual. It’s one of those rare moments between games where no one is talking, no one is fighting—just the sound of slow breathing, the occasional rustle of blankets, and the quiet weight of survival sinking in.

And then, you see him.

Min-Su sits on the edge of his bunk, hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His hands are clasped together, fingers anxiously twisting the fabric of his jumpsuit. His head is bowed low, his shoulders rising and falling with unsteady breaths.

You hesitate.

It’s not often you see someone openly upset here. People usually swallow their emotions, bury them deep down, because in the Squid Game, weakness is dangerous. It’s a place that forces you to be numb, to pretend you don’t feel a damn thing.

But Min-Su isn’t like the others.

He always felt things deeply, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. And that’s exactly why you’re drawn to him.

Taking a quiet step closer, you lower your voice. “Min-Su?”

His head lifts slightly, and even in the dim light, you catch the faint shine of tears before he quickly wipes them away with the sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice rough, unsteady. “I know it’s stupid to get emotional here.”

Your heart clenches. “It’s not stupid.”

You sit beside him, close enough that your knee brushes his, but you don’t press him to talk. You just wait, letting him decide if he wants to let you in.

For a moment, all he does is exhale slowly, rubbing a hand down his face before finally whispering, “It’s just… everything. The games. The people we’ve lost. And I keep wondering if I’ll make it out—if any of us will.”

He shakes his head, staring down at his hands. “I don’t want to be another nameless body on the floor.”

There’s something so heartbreakingly human in the way he says it, and before you can stop yourself, you reach out—your fingers gently curling around his hand.

His breath hitches at the contact, his gaze flickering to yours, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into it, like he needs it.

And then you move without thinking, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a firm, warm embrace.

At first, he freezes, like he’s not used to this kind of comfort. But then, ever so slowly, he lets go—his hands gripping the back of your jumpsuit as if holding onto you is the only thing keeping him grounded.

His breath is warm against your shoulder, uneven, but he doesn’t hide it. He doesn’t try to mask the way his body trembles slightly against yours.

“I hate that we’re stuck in this place,” you murmur against his shoulder. “But I’m glad I met you.”

His arms tighten around you, as if those words alone are enough to steady him. When he finally pulls back, his eyes search yours—soft, vulnerable, something unspoken lingering between you.

“You mean that?”

You nod, your heart hammering.

You’d had a crush on Min-Su since the moment you first spoke to him—since you realized he wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t ruthless. He wasn’t selfish. He cared.

And right now, looking at you like this, something in his gaze shifts—like he’s seeing you in a way he never has before.

“You’re too kind for this place,” he whispers, his fingers still gently holding onto your sleeve. “That’s why I—” He stops himself, shaking his head with a small, breathless laugh. “I think I’m falling for you.”

Your stomach flips, warmth spreading through your chest, but it’s more than just a crush now. It’s something real, something that exists despite the chaos around you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you squeeze his hand. “Then at least we’re in this together.”

And for the first time in days, he smiles.

A/n: hi my lil monsters! How we likey? First min-su fic and this request is honestly so cute and I just knew I had to do it! If you have any request send em in!

Love ya, Twilight

squid game taglist:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @takuma-talkz @sxmmerchxld @multifandomgirllol @gizaspicebag @truefandemonium

[ur-local-anti-hero]

Speak now

James Potter x Malfoy!Reader

Summary: If the marauders are against something, its agaisnt pureblood families ideologies. Sometimes that implies to wreak havoc on a white veil occasion.

Genre: Hurt/comfort, Fluff and a tiny bit of Angst. Arranged Marriage

CW: Forced Marriage, Familiar problems, talks about blood purity and blood traitors. Breaking into a weddig idk.

Word count: 2.2K

This is part of my Speak Now (Marauders’ version) collection 

“So don't say yes, run away now. I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door.

Don't wait, or say a single vow. You need to hear me out”

When you were younger you saw a fair amount of weddings. They were always presented to you as big emotional events in which two people promised eternal love to each other. 

Even when you didn't know anything about love as a kid, it was no wonder that you yearned to have your own wedding once you grew up. It was a dream to have your own white dress, a beautifully decorated venue and a partner you loved so deeply you’d be willing to spend your whole life with them. 

Looking back maybe you should’ve known better. The first sign should’ve been your surname. A Malfoy has expectations they have to meet, keeping the bloodline pure, for starters. 

The second one should’ve been your parents’ loveless marriage, when you were younger you used to wonder why they’d married at all, now it was quite obvious. 

The third and most evident should’ve been when Andromeda Black was disowned. At that time you didn’t truly understand what that entailed, and why it was such a hassle that she wanted to get married. Now you understood that the problem was not the wedding, if not the groom. 

All your fantasies about the commonly named ‘Big day’ were completely shattered when your 18th birthday came, and with it a letter from your parents which contained the name of your soon to be husband. You tried to fight it, which only made your parents move the date of the wedding forward and get you out of Hogwarts, your education didn’t matter anymore to them now that your future as a housewife was inevitable. And being away from Hogwarts also meant being away from the ‘bad influences’ in your life. 

Now the corset of your white dress was suffocating, you felt trapped. Looking at the mirror was like looking at someone else. The girl with lifeless eyes and heavy make-up that couldn’t hide her eyebags was supposed to be you, yet it felt like a perfectly modelated version of yourself, made to impress the high class families attending the wedding. 

Narcissa’s gentle hands were bradding your hair, finishing your look before the wedding. Usually her presence was able to calm you down. Ever since she married your older brother, Lucius, her presence was regular in family gatherings and you’ve always felt some kind of kinship with her, seeking shelter on her whenever the phony and pompous encounters became too overwhelming.

You could attribute your shifted feelings towards her to the fact that she was unknowingly preparing you for eternal misery, or maybe because she was replacing the ones who you would’ve chosen as bridesmaids - there was no place for muggleborns in an event celebrating the union of two pureblood heirs -. Or even because it was her little cousin the one you were to wed. 

“You look beautiful” said Narcissa once she was done with your hair. 

You nodded and gave her a small thank you. However, you disagreed completely, the girl she was looking at was not you, it was your parent’s perfect daughter. 

“You do look lovely, father and mother are going to be delighted” your brother’s voice came from the door, where he was leaning on. “I brought you some company” he gestured behind him. 

Pandora and Dorcas stormed into the room, the former embracing you into a tight hug when they spotted you. Lucius and Narcissa left the room. 

“How are you holding up?” Pandora asked as soon as the door closed behind Lucius and Narcissa. Her arms were still holding you tightly, Dorcas standing behind her. 

You shrugged at her, not being able to talk due the knot in your throat and the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You kept your eyes glued to the mirror. 

Pandora stepped out of the hug and stood next to Dorcas, who had yet to speak. 

“Evan and Barty are with Regulus, I swear I never thought I would see him in a tux” said Dorcas, trying to make conversation. The thought of Regulus being in the same situation as you didn’t make you feel better, the knot in your throat was getting tighther by the second. You promised to yourself you wouldn’t cry anymore, to be honest you thought you had run out of tears days ago. 

“Sirius is here too” Pandora was trying to distract you from the wedding. If she was being honest with herself there was nothing they could do to make you feel better. But maybe knowing that your best friend was out there could help a little. 

That made you finally look away from the mirror, a small wave of hope cursing through you. If Sirius was here it meant that James could be too. In the eyes of your family his family’s name was not good enough for yours, but maybe it was enough for him to be a guest. 

Maybe it was selfish to wish for him to be there when you knew how much it would hurt him, but you needed to talk to him, he was the only one who could actually comfort you right now, the only presence that would make everything feel normal again. You yearned to feel his touch against your skin and his lips against yours, even if it was for one last time, as a farewell. 

“Is he… Is James here?” you spoke for the first time. 

The answer was clear in the pitiful look they gave you even before Pandora replied with a soft ‘no’. 

You don’t know what did it, if the look in the faces of your friends or the fact that you would never see James again, but tears started rolling down your face. In seconds you were being embraced by Pandora again, and Dorcas’ hand was wiping away your tears. 

“It’s okay, you are going to be okay” Pandora didn’t believe her own words, but there was little she could do to calm you down and you both knew it. 

There was a knock on the door and your dad’s voice came from the other side “Y/N, it’s time” 

Pandora gave you a squeeze before letting you go from the hug. They both left the room, not without giving you a forced smile. 

“Oh, merlin” you said to yourself as soon as you were left alone, going back to the mirror, you wiped the few tears that were left on your face, and tried to fix the smudged make-up around your eyes with your fingers. You didn’t want to give your parents the satisfaction of seeing how much this affected you. 

Once you looked mildly presentable again you exited the room. Your father was waiting for you and he offered you his arm to lead you towards the venue. 

You could see the whole venue from the end of the aisle. The green and black motives contrasted beatifully with the white flowers decorating the aisle and the top of the altar. The guests were placed in black chairs at both ends of the aisle. 

You weren’t brave enough to lift your glaze from the ground, knowning that you wouldn’t see the love of your life waiting for you as you had dreamt since you were a kid. The heavy veil of your dress made your steps slow and lethargic. 

It was not until you were halfway down the aisle that you gathered enough courage to finally look at the man in front of you. Instead of the boy with unruly curly brown hair and eyes filled with love, there standing was Regulus, his black hair slicked back and eyes drowned by the same defeated look you wore. 

Once you reached his side everything went in a blur, all you remember is him taking your hands into his and the officiant talking. 

“If anyone has any objection, speak now or forever hold your peace” 

You were really going insane because you swore you saw James standing at the end of the aisle, wearing a tuxedo and with his hand up in the air. 

“I oppose!” His voice was loud and clear, your eyes widened. 

All the guests' eyes went to his figure and several surprised gasps were heard. Maybe you were not hallucinating. 

───✥───

If Fleamont Potter ever found out how James was using his inherited cloak of invisivility he’d be horrified, or maybe oddly proud of his son. 

Not even James thought he would ever sneak into a highly patrolled wedding on a common Tuesday, but honestly if someone had told him a year ago he’d be doing this he wouldn’t be surprised. 

Sneaking in a wedding filled with pureblood families and slytherin students was the perfect setup for a Marauders prank. However, what would have surprised him would’ve been the reason for interrupting a white veil occasion. Dating a Malfoy was something he hadn’t expected to ever do, but you had gotten past all his defenses with your kind and bright personality that proved to be so different from your family’s pretentious ways. 

Therefore, he was now standing on the aisle you had walked minutes ago. He had a perfect view of you and Regulus from his stance, your white dress was gorgeous, and your hair was neatly done. If it weren’t for your puffy and bloodshot eyes, and the obvious defeated look in your face, a look that had no place in a wedding, he could almost believe this was a normal marriage ceremony. 

When you had received the letter from your parents you had been inconsolable, and rightfully so. James had tried everything to stop the wedding, he even went as far as asking your parents for their blessing and to be the one you'd wed instead of the Black heir. Turned out to be useless as his family had been marked as blood traitors for eternity. 

But James isn't known for giving up easily, and the Marauders were not going to let an opportunity to cause havoc pass by. 

With the promise of being on his best behavior, Sirius had convinced his parents to attend the wedding as a guest, acting as a mole for his friends' plans. Remus and Lily were outside the venue with their ride home -a couple of broomsticks they borrowed from Hogwarts' supply closet. 

And the last part of the plan, and its success rested on James' shoulders. 

The preacher spoke 'Speak now or forever hold your peace' James smirked, that was his cue. It was on. 

James took off his invisibility cloak and without a single trace of shame or shyness in his voice James stated loudly "I oppose!"

James would've loved to stop for a moment to memorize the looks of complete horror in the faces of the guests, but he had to be fast and make total use of the element of surprise. 

Without hesitation James sprinted towards the altar. He could see the way your brother had stood up and pointed his wand at him, his spell being intercepted by Sirius' expelliarmus spell. 

As soon as James made it to the altar chaos erupted from everyone in the venue, he could make out the shouts of your parents and some spells that were being intercepted by yours and James' friends. 

At the sight of James Regulus let your hands go, he raised his arms in defeat and left the altar without much hassle. 

"Gentleman" James greeted Regulus' groomsmen, Barty and Evan who were just as stunned as everyone, all they could do was nod in acknowledgement to James, not even trying to interfere. 

"Hi, love" he was finally looking at you, your eyes were wide with surprise and tears were gathered in your waterline. James took your hands in one of his and the other was raised to stroke your cheek. 

“James what- how-” you were completely astonished, and unable to formulate a single phrase. You knew your boyfriend loved you, and the lengths he would go to prove it, but you would have never guessed he’d be willing to break into your wedding ceremony. He was always proving you wrong. 

“Hey Peter, mate, it’s your moment to shine” Following james’ words a rat came out of his pants’ pocket. 

And suddenly Peter was standing in front of you. He pushed the appalled officiant slightly to the side and took his place. 

Peter cleared his throat before speaking “Do you, James Fleamont Potter, take Y/N Malfoy as your wife?” 

“I do” 

“Do you, Y/N Malfoy, take James Fleamont Potter as your husband?” 

You could hardly mutter a low “I do” before Peter spoke again 

“I declare you husband and wife. You might kiss the bride” 

James didn’t hesitate for a moment. To add dramatism he spun you around and dipped you, holding your weight with his arm. And without waiting for another second he kissed you, sweet and slow, conveying all his love for you with that gesture. 

When you became breathless you broke the kiss and looked at James straight into his beautiful eyes, which only show deep adoration. “I love you” you mouthed to him, which made his eyes sparkle with joy and a wide grin to break into face. 

He took you in his arms bridal style and walked down the aisle. You coudln’t even care about the chaos and spells that were aimed your way, all you could look at was James. 

And as he muttered “I love you too, Miss Potter” you knew he’d do anything to prove his love for you. 

Author's note: This one is of my faves of the collection ngl, James is my soft spot Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed and very appreciated. I'd love to hear what you thought about it so don't be shy!! To be part of the taglist Dm me or send me an ask <3 Taglist @feral-posts @izuoyarmin @aremuslupinsim @yourfavgay @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo 

[sissylittlefeather]

@atleastpleasetelephone Hey friend!! Thank you so much!!! You sure can have some smut 😏. I hope you enjoy this filthy little ficlet.

Daddy Likes His Coat

Warnings: 18+ MINORS NO. DNI. Kissing, cussing, masturbation (f & m), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, public sex

------------------------------------------------------

You've been with Elvis for almost a year now, and he knows how you can get sometimes, especially after a good show. So when you're getting on the plane and you grab his hand and pull him to you, he's not surprised to hear what you whisper in his ear.

"I need you..." He smiles, but shakes his head genially.

"No, baby, there's too many people on the plane tonight." You pout as you make your way to your seats. He goes all the way to the back by the bathroom.

"See! The bathroom is right there!" You're seated across from him facing him and the back of the plane. The charter plane is small, but big enough for there to be no one directly next to the two of you. Everyone else is in front of you. You stick your bottom lip out and beg. "Pleaseeee."

"Baby. No. Maybe when we land." He leans across to pat your knee and pulls out a book and starts to read. You look out the window for a bit and then get an idea. He doesn't even notice you wiggling in your seat.

All of a sudden something lands on his book right in the middle of where he was reading. He looks at it puzzled and then goes to pick it up. That's when he realizes it's your white lace panties in his hand. He looks up at you quickly and shuts his book, your panties still clutched in his fist. He has a devilish glint in his eyes.

"Honey, what-"

You spread your legs slowly, giving him a full view of your pussy under your short skirt. His eyes widen.

"What are you...?"

He trails off as you lick your fingers and move them down to your core. His mouth drops open a little as you begin to rub circles on yourself, biting your bottom lip to keep from moaning. You roll your hips forward into your hand.

"Mmm." He groans quietly and reaches forward to touch you. You use your knee to push his hand to the side.

"Uh-uh. You said there's too many people on the plane."

"Baby, please."

"Touch yourself, since that's what you made me do." He sighs deeply.

"You're a pain in the ass, sweetheart. You know that?"

"You love me." You close your eyes and moan softly as you slide a finger into yourself, pumping it in and out.

"God, I really do." His eyes are glued to what your hands are doing. He swallows hard and then stands up as much as he can in the small plane, yanking his jacket off. He sits back down and folds it and holds it in his lap, his hands buried somewhere underneath. You know him well enough to know that he's currently freeing his cock from the confines of his pants. A smirk crosses your lips as you watch him begin to stroke himself under his jacket, trying desperately not to react with his face.

"Shittt." He hisses and you quickly pull your hands back and close your legs as a stewardess walks over to you both.

"Mr. Presley, would you care for some water?" He's stopped moving, but his hand is still under his coat.

"Nope. Not tonight." He answers with a strained smile.

"Do you need anything?"

"Not anything you can give me. Thanks." She looks at him with a confused expression and then turns to walk back up the aisle, smiling at you as she passes.

"You're gonna be the death of me, doll." He goes back to moving his hand under his jacket. "Mm. C'mon honey, lemme see ya again."

You consider saying no, just to tease him, but you're too turned on to stop, so you spread your legs again and let your fingers trail down your front back to your center.

"There ya go, baby." He groans a little louder than he probably should. You have on a tank top with no bra under your coat, so you open it and pull your top down to give him a glimpse of your nipple.

"Mmm, that's so mean, baby."

"As mean as this?" You answer breathlessly as you move your fingers even faster over your clit bringing yourself to a very obvious orgasm. The waves of electric pleasure crest and break as your climax rushes through you. You bite your lip again and moan quietly and your hips buck while your eyes close. The image of you making yourself cum almost drives him over the edge.

"Goddamnit, woman."

He begins to pump himself faster, no longer trying to hide his facial expressions as his hand moves up and down his rock hard cock. He closes his eyes and makes a face that you recognize.

"Gonna make me ruin my coat, doll."

"That's right, daddy, cum for baby." Suddenly, he shakes his head and opens his eyes.

"No. I'm cumming inside you. That pussy is mine." He reaches forward with his free hand and grabs your arm dragging you into his lap. Everyone on the plane very clearly hears exactly what he says, but he no longer cares. You giggle as he slides you onto his dick and groans loudly.

"I thought there were too many people-"

"I don't give a fuck. Bounce." He lifts you by the waist and you move up and down on him. It only takes a few times before you feel him tense and buck up into you, filling you with his hot release.

"Oh, god, baby, yes." He moans as he shudders and relaxes. You feel his arms wrap around you and he leans against the back of your neck. "Fuck, honey, I love you."

He lifts you off of himself and pulls your skirt down, handing you your panties to put back on.

"I love you too." You lean in and kiss him gently and then turn to go back to your seat. He slaps your ass as he puts himself away. Bending down, you hand him his book from where it slid onto the floor during your activities. He spends the rest of the flight reading and you look out the window, fully satisfied.

The plane lands and you all make your way off. As you do, Joe looks at Elvis with his eyebrows raised. Elvis shakes his head quizzically.

"What? I really like this coat."

******

The End

[neiptune]

when you get me alone it's so simple

c/w: 1k wc, megumi is so head over heels in love with you he allows you to do his makeup for a halloween party, sappy and self indulgent and disgustingly sweet pls be nice i haven't written something in forever

“Why are you being so difficult?”

“When am I not being difficult according to you?”

The playful quip makes the cornes of your lips curl into an amused smile.

“Right. But I really think you should come”

Megumi holds your gaze with a seemingly impassive stare, lets the small interval of silence stretch for a second too long.

It’s not that he doesn’t like hanging out with his friends, he actually enjoys the idea of getting to be nothing more than a young man with an exceptionally low tolerance level for Nobara’s antics for once. However, a halloween party? Filled with obnoxious strangers who will get drunk and make a mess of Yuuji’s house? A mess that you have already promised will help to clean out?

Definitely not on his bingo card for an evening he could spend at the movies or in a quiet pub instead.

But then, there’s your strenuous perseverence. The disappointment you didn’t for a second attempt to hide still swarming in those big eyes, the pettish inflexion of your pitch when you had sputtered a what? What d’you mean you’re not coming?

And now there you are, curled up on the other end of your couch, sulkiness oozing from every glance you’ve spared him for the last half an hour.

“I want you there” you innocently cock your head and he feels something melt in his chest “it just wouldn’t be fun without you. Please come?”

Sometimes Megumi wonders if you know about the exhausting effort it takes him to whisk away thoughts a friend shouldn’t have, the way he’s almost lost his mind dwelling on the way you held on to his hand the entire way back to your apartment on the night he came to collect you from the bar, drunk and a giggling, clingy mess. He wonders if you understand just how deeply you can get under his skin and the way he hangs on to every word, every smile, each I want you there.

“Gumi?” you inch forward, brows knit and cool fingers gently grazing his arm.

Jesus, fuck.

“Fine. But I’m not staying to clean up”

You smile knowingly, a light shrug swallowing the of course you will almost spilling from your lips.

“Deal. And I get to do your makeup”

The dim light of your awfully small bathroom has gentle shadows settling into the curves of your collarbones and accentuates your jaw, the apples of your cheeks. There are only so many glances he can steal as the pitter-patter of rain on the window makes the perspective of spending the night out even less appealing.

Regardless, the warmth radiating from your skin and the smell of your perfume cloud his pathetically heightened senses, a multisensory madness that has his heart thumping painfully in his chest and the pads of his fingers tingling with need.

“Will you stop flinching?” only one of his eyes is open and you’re out of focus but that exasperated smile rings loud in his ears.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, it’s an instinctive reaction”

“I’m just using eyeshadow”

You finally allow his left eye to peel open and Megumi almost laughs at your focused stare, creases on your forehead expressing a deep dissatisfaction.

“What? Doesn’t suit me?” he quips “it’s probably because you keep smudging it—”

“I’m going for a dramatic look, you dolt!”

His eyebrows raise in mocking interest.

“Oh, apologies. What’s the issue, then? Not dramatic enough?”

“You’re being surprisingly chatty for someone who is usually very fucking quiet”

Megumi’s sarcastic comeback dies in his throat as you suddenly position yourself over him, not quite straddling his lap because you’re still standing but nevertheless exceptionally close to sitting on his thighs.  

“What are you— what is that?” his voice is thinner and he has to flex his hands to keep himself from positioning them on your hips.

Christ.

“Chill, man. It’s eyeliner. Don’t move, this is the most important part” and then you’re hovering above him once more, except this time you gently grab his chin to tilt his head upwards as you lean closer, so close he stops breathing.

You work quietly, in comfortable silence, although you’re at cotton swab number three and the result still doesn’t seem to fully satisfy you.

“You should wear makeup” it’s a comment made absentmindedly, Megumi can tell by the way you’re not even truly looking at him as you speak, way too absorbed by the task at hand “eye makeup, I mean. It looks really good on you”

“Yeah?”

There must be something in his inflection, because your hand comes to a halt for a second, then resumes its gentle work over his eyelid. All he gets is an affirmative hum.

“Someone would have to teach me how to do it”

He’s not sure where his boldness is stemming from, although he suspects the thumb gently brushing over the same spot close to the corner of his eye would make a reasonable source.

“I’m sure Nobara would be happy to” you quietly chuckle to yourself but this time it feels as if you’re avoiding his gaze on purpose and that just won’t do.

“Doesn’t your back hurt like this?”

“A little bit but I’m almost done with this eye. Are you uncomfortable? I can—” Megumi interrupts you with a gentle but firm hold of your waist, hands far bigger than yours pulling you down to sit on his lap.

You’re dumbfounded and he revels in your shocked expression, in the way you’re the one who doesn’t know how to handle something unexpected for once. In how good it feels to be in control.

“Don’t make it weird” the warning is playful but his hands are still on your waist and give it a light squeeze that has your stomach doing a weird flip.

“I— what? You don’t make it weird! Shut up, stand still” your entire face is on fire and the hoodie you’re wearing suddenly feels all too warm.

Megumi smiles innocently but complies, quiet and as immobile as a sorcerer's body can get.

You pretend not to notice the way he melts into your touch, how his body relaxes as he shuts both his eyes and finally lets you work in peace. No sarcastic remarks, no silly winces. Why does that do something to your chest?

It’s so easy, carefully lining his bottom lash line with your favorite liquid eyeliner. Without thinking, you cradle his face as you gently swipe your thumb over the freshly traced lines to smudge them just right.

But then his eyes flutter open right as you hold his face in your hands and is it your imagination or does the grip on your waist grow more solid in turn?

“Y’know” he murmurs in a way that is so unlike him, so intimate as his indigo gaze burns right into yours “actually, I wouldn’t want Nobara to be the one to do it”

[sageispunk]

thinking about how richie finds out ur a squirter....

warnings: 18+ minors dni, unprotected piv intercourse, mention of foreplay, richie likes when reader is loud and verbal, he's a damn tease, missionary, mention of overstimulation, begging, outercourse, Big D*ck Richard Jerimovich, mention of pubes, slight pain kink (scratching, pulling hair mentioned), praise praise praise, no specific age/gender/race mentioned, breeding kink, dirty talk, he talks u through it, mention of cumplay, just smth i wrote at 2am last night off the joint/penjamin combo ;)

he's fucking you sooooo good in missionary, tall body over you, almost cradling your body as he thrusts in and out and in and out

you've been dripping since y'all started (an hour ago--the man loves foreplay), but you can hear it now, the squishing and the squelching of him sliding in and out of your warmth, it's his own personal slice of heaven

he loves it, hearing everything-- your moans and breaths, your wetness, the slight creak of the bed as he fucks you into complete oblivion

you can barely talk, the only words exiting your mouth a combination of his name and unfinished curses

"richieee..." you crane your neck down, wanting to get a look at where your bodies met

"hmm?" he doesn't smirk but you can tell by the look in his eyes that he's proud of the way he has you, so fucking wet and needy, in his bed, on his sheets, so goddamn beautiful all spread out for him

wanting to see you fall apart just a little more, he thrusts into you one good time before pulling out, blushing at the whiny moans that immediately spill from your mouth

his hands are on your hips for a quick second before he pulls your body closer to him, leaving you more flat against the mattress

his hands travel to the backs of your knees, pushing them forward till you're folded in half underneath his slim build

the new angle gives you a better view of your glistening cunt, slightly swollen and throbbing with need and the next thing you know, both of you are watching in a silent haze as richie drags his throbbing cock up and down your folds

"please, richie, pleaseee..."

your eyes remain on his cock between your lips, the tip nudging your clit every time he moves his hips, teasing you nearly to death

"what's that, baby?"

you cry out as he taps your clit with his cock, your body jerking under him from the overstimulation

"fuuuuck, pleaseee..."

"what do you need, baby? hmm?"

his forehead is on yours, bright blue eyes shining down on you as the two of you hold that eye contact, his cock still resting on top of your clit, twitching ever so slightly

the only thing you can focus on at this point is his face, so close, right in front of yours-- his scruffy beard that you loved to feel against your face (and your thighs), his big, sharp nose that you loved feeling when he nuzzled into your neck at night, that furrow in his eyebrows that he always made when concentrating really hard on a sports game or a new recipe

and then finally his lips, when the magic words fall from them and into your ever-so inviting ears

"c'mon baby, let me hear you, i need to hear you say it.."

you don't want to hold back anymore, not with those big, blue puppy eyes staring down into your soul, so let it all spill from your lips

"please fuck me, richie, i need you, please, PLEASE, i need it, i want to feel you.."

his eyes flutter shut when he hears, and you could feel the way his cock twitches on you one second before he pulls his hips back, thrusting forward and sliding deeply inside of your cunt

"fuc-" your words are cut off as you find yourself overwhelmed with ecstasy at this new position

richie is in you, deeper than ever, you swear that you can feel him in your belly

he's pushing all your buttons, places you'd never even reached before, all whilst keeping his forehead on yours, eyes trained on your face for signs of what makes you feel good

one of your favorites, he notices, is when he rolls his hips slowly as he thrusts inside, his tip kissing a spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back into your head, while his curly pubes rub against your clit, creating the most torturing yet delicious friction you've experienced, ever

so he does that, over and over and over until you are gripping onto his shoulders, eyes watery and voice shaking, as you beg and beg, for what? who knows

his hips slam into yours, harder and harder as you feel yourself creeping up to your peak, your toes curling beside his head, and your fingernails digging into his shoulders

the pain was something both of you enjoyed, you loved to give a little pain to show how good your partner made you feel, and richie loved to recieve your scratches and your tugs at his hair because it showed him that he was doing his job and he was doing it damn well

your body tensed the closer you got, including your eyes, which clamped shut as you anticipated your upcoming eruption

he could tell it wasn't helping, you were focusing too hard on when it would hit you, that you just prolonged it even further

with two hands on your cheeks, he whispers above you-- "baby...fuck, baby, look at me, let me help you.."

although his pace doesn't let up, you allow your eyes to open up again, focusing in on the sight above you, your beautiful man staring down at you as he fucks your pussy like his life depends on it

"there y'go, mama, keep those pretty eyes on me, okay?"

you nod, using every bit of strength to keep your eyes open and focused on his as his cock slides in and out of your pussy, your muscles tightening around him, bringing him right up to that edge with you

"so fucking beautiful, baby, i swear t'god... if i could have you like this all day, every fuckin' day, i would... i would never leave this goddamn bed again.."

your pussy clenches around him at those words, and he hisses, teeth slightly bared as he tries to hold back his own release, wanting you to reach yours first

"cum for me, baby, you're so close, i can feel it, soooo fuckin' tight, it's like this pussy was made just f'me..."

a blinding white light hits your eyelids as your body begins to tremble underneath richie, your ears barely registering his words of encouragement for you

something you did recognize was a new feeling of warmth spilling down your inner thighs, down your folds, soaking the sheets below you

"oh, shit.." richie's eyes were no longer focused on your face, now they trained themselves on your cunt and how it gushed out again and again around his cock, pulsating as you came, hard

just a few moments later, richie empties himself deep inside you, filling you up with his warm seed, cock twitching with each spurt

"goddamn it, jesus.." his eyes close as he slows down, not wanting you to overstimulate either of you too much

you're still in another world, only slightly coming down from the high that richie and his cock supplied you mere minutes ago

richie stays inside you, laying kisses on your forehead, cheeks, jaw and lips as you stir back to consciousness

when your eyes open again, he's running his fingers along your scalp, nails lightly scratching and soothing you, like he always does

"when were you gonna tell me you're a squirter, huh?" a smirk graces his face this time and you grin in response, watching him sit back and pull out of your pussy, waiting for the moment that his cum begins to drip out of you (only for him to fuck it back inside with his long, skilled fingers)

[soonyoungs]

welcome to svt!tumblr lol can you write a fic with dino as a soft dom who has a claim/possession kink but it’s sweet still if that makes sense?

ఇ dino and gn!reader

ఇ warnings: smut! not proofread! a little bit of jealousy(dino), if anything else needs tagged lmk!

ఇ wc: 690

ఇ notes: thank you sm for the request! i hope i did it some justice ♡︎

“i love you,” he claims, squeezing your thighs in his hands. he’s got them spread open wide, grip tight enough to keep them still but nothing more. “all mine,” his breathing is getting ragged “no one else can have you, or look at you,” he bends down to your ear, pushing your thighs up with him “no one can feel or taste you. not the way i do,” he’s nipping and licking at your earlobe as you whine for him.

“please, chan, i’m sorry,” you’re near tears with the way he’s been teasing you all night. you can’t even remember what happened for you to be in this predicament. you honestly didn’t care anymore, all you cared about was the man pushing himself into you as slowly and deeply as he could. chan laughs at your attempt at begging. he lifts himself back up, letting up on your thighs to instead pull on your hips to bring you closer to him. once he’s settled you closer, pushing himself deeper inside you, he makes eye contact. 

wide grin on his face he raises an eyebrow at you he begins moving faster “tell me what you want baby. how am i supposed to know anything if you don’t tell me?” you whimper at his words, knowing he won’t let up until you do as he asks.

“give it to me chan,” you reach forward, gripping his hip “fuck me like you mean it and make me cum” you all but demand, realizing your near mistake you’re quick to correct yourself “please, chan, please let me cum”. chan nods his head as if he’s mulling over what he plans to do with you. he slows his thrusts until he’s almost at a complete stop.

you’re whining, gripping your sheets and wiggling your hips to try and get any attention he’ll allow. “angel,” he’s sweet with his reprimand, but you know he means it as a warning. “need you to cum, but you can only do that if you behave, okay?” you nod your head furiously and chan laughs at the sight. he leans down to give you a quick peck before pulling out and giving you a light slap on the side of your thigh, his signal for you to turn over. 

once on your belly chan bends and spread your knees, pulls your hips up and slowly starts pushing himself back into you. “only mine, right,” he asks, stopping half way in. you whine and kick your ankles, nodding your head “yes, chan,” he’s driving you crazy with his teasing but he knows you love it. 

chan is slow to reenter you and you’ve gone almost delirious, arching your back to the point he’s afraid you’ll break something. once he’s completely bottomed out inside of you, your hips start moving on their own. intrigued by your display of desperation chan allows you to move as you please, gently holding your hips to guide you back into him. “how does it feel,” he asks in a gentle tone “how does it feel knowing no one can ever make you feel this way but me?”

you cry out, spamming and tightening around him as you fall into your high. chan grunts as you continue to push back onto him as much as you can. “so tight,” he pants “so good for me, you’re such a good angel for me,” he leans down, forehead making contact with your shoulder blade, “so good for only me, say it baby” he requests, growling it into your ear and you comply with a raspy groan. “only you chan, can only cum like this when you touch me. ruined me for anyone else, i’m yours.” as soon as you utter the words he’s been longing to hear he stills, spilling himself deep inside of you.

as soon as you’ve milked him for all he’s worth, chan is quick to carefully remove himself from you and clean the both of you up before holding you close and whispering sweeter nothings than you could even dream up. “love you,” he continually mutters as he falls asleep “i love you so much”.