#it just felt like they didn’t know what to do with the two of them all season and they ended the season in a less satisfying place

[tojisteddy]

After Care with Toji.

cw: no use of ‘y/n’ I use ‘[+]’, depicting after care (obviously), sub space, softdom!toji, fluff, dom/sub dynamics, treading the line of dd/lg (anyone could digest this), pet names (baby, doll, mama, ma), it’s LONG (idk how many words, I know know it’s LONG), toji is the sweetest bf ever.

Toji knew your limits. He knew just how much he could push and pull, throw you around until you were delirious. And he knew when you were fucked out of your mind, when you couldn’t think properly, you who’d only knew how to moan and spew gibberish.

He’d had half of his manhood in you, slowly sliding out of your gushing cunt as he looked down at your ravished body. He had hickies and bite marks from the top of your neck to your toes, both of juices on your stomach down an absolute mess coming from both of your thighs. He adored the sight of it.

He gently lifted your chin to look at him, your eyes kept wandering around, “no, no, look at me mama, focus.” His voice was gentle but it was a command.

It sorta sounded like God was calling you, maybe the pearly gates were opening. You wouldn’t have minded.

“Where’s yer head at? Tell me.” He always asked when you were blissed out.

You couldn’t verbally answer though. You reached for the back of his knee and tapped. Once, twice, three times. Toji’d known from the first tap alone you were calling it quits, he sat you up on the pillows. Running to go get a damp towel or two to clean you off.

“Such a good girl f’ me today Doll. Did so well.”

You hiccuped, rubbing your face that was once full of tears. “Really?”

Fuck, you were so damn cute like this.

“Course mama,” he lifted your hand and kissing your knuckles and intertwined your fingers, “Loved bein with you. You love it too?”

“Course papa.” You replied, using his same sweet tone.

The ends of his lips curved up, leaving a quick kiss at your temple, “Yer so sweet baby.”

You hadn’t even realized when Togi finished cleaning you up and had sat you up, legs dangling off the bed. You felt his fingers going into your hair.

“I-I can take care ‘f myself Toji.”

“Sure you can ma, but not right now. Let me help you.”

Togi was consistent with after care. It was something he learned how to do after being with so many women, to look out for them. Help them clean up, get them properly conscious, relaxed.

It was different with you, though.

Not that he wasn’t a fan of it already, but after pushing you to your limit, manhandling you every which way known to man, forcing you to take everything he had— he loved taking care of you. To the point that even when his dick K.O’ed you into darkness, you’d wake up at 3 am, the moonlight slithering it’s way into the your shades bedroom through the curtains. You’d sit all the way up, rubbing your tired eyes to find yourself completely wiped down, in one of Toji’s sweatshirts that hung off him just right but gave you sweater paws, a pair of underwear and a scarf to protect your hair because he knew you’d be grumbling all morning if you woke up with out.

He didn’t mind because he loved you.

You, who never asked too much of him or pushed him too hard. You, who felt every need to be independent, and he had to teach you to rely on him. You, who had every wall built up as far as the eye can see, worse than him— it was Toji who broke every one of them down, breaking his own in the process.

Yes, you were his play thing in the bedroom, a messy girl, his slut— but everywhere else, you were his baby, his gorgeous girl, cute future mamma to his kids, his lover.

Oh how he absolutely adored you.

“What’ddya wanna do, huh? Take a drive, eat, a bath?” He had put your curls up with one of the silk scrunchies you left lying around, leaving peppering kisses on the back of your neck.

“A bath.” You mumbled.

“Yeah?” He carefully rubbed your hips, thankfully they didn’t bruise this time.

“Go on, take a shower first ‘nd I’ll meet you there. You know what to do.”

With a pat to your ass, you were off. Legs wobbly from so much action.

Toji took care of everything. From changing the sheets, lighting candles, playing whatever music you wanted to hear to wind down, running the overly hot bath water with bubbles, just how you liked it. Whatever you wanted at the moment, Toji would give it to you. He loved how reliant you were when you were blissed out.

He liked it when you were completely relaxed, completely trusting of him with not a care in the world. Your only focus was him and being with him. He also loved being needed by you, how you were like two peas in a pod— both of you needing each other.

You pressed your head on the cool tile of the shower, closing your eyes as the soap and water ran down your body. It felt soooo nice against your skin.

“Oi, if yer tired sit on the hinoki!”

He snapped you out of whatever trance you were in with the wall, but you closed your eyes again with a scuff, “fuck off… ‘m not tired… You’re fuckin tired.”

Toji chuckled, setting both of your pajamas on the bathroom counter and then joining you under the hot water.

“You talkin shit?” An amused look on his face, leaning down closer to see you. As if he wasn’t already following your every move, just to make sure you were safe on your own.

“You get in my face… talkin- talkin ‘bout me… you’rrre the one yellin. Yoouu must be tired.” You slurred out, a grin forming on your face.

“ ‘S that right?”

“ ‘M always righ—”

You yelped out, Tojis devious fingers immediately going to your tummy, your arm pits— anywhere he knew he could get a bustle of laughter out of you. At the best and worst times, Toji was a literal tickle monster. He could get anything out of you that way.

“That’s— haha- you’re cheating! Ah! Hehee- you cheater!”

“Come on! I know yer tired, I’ll stop if you sit.”

“Oh, come awn!”

Without another word, Toji had you trapped between his body and the tile wall of the shower, tickling you so much it hurt.

You groaned, still giggling up a storm, slapping his large arms that held you, “Damn it! I give! I give!”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his fingers were off of you body, taking your hand and guiding you to the hinoki.

“Doesn’t that feel better?”

“Whatever.”

It did feel better, your legs had been contorted in every in every way imaginable. Above his head, above your head, spread out from the Atlantic Ocean to the pacific. It felt good to take a rest.

Your eyes trailed up Toji’s body, skin riddled with scratch marks from his arms to his back, a few hickies on his neck, water cascading down his toned muscles, chiseled cheek bones—

“You starin mama?”

Toji hummed to himself, he loved when your eyes were on him. They were so pretty to him, especially when you were in the sun and he could really get a look at them. Like two Hershey kisses staring back at his green ones.

“Look so cute when you blush.”

“Shut up! You can’t even see it!”

He couldn’t, your brown skin didn’t let it peek through.

But it was in the way your eyes immediately went else where, unconsciously going to feel your heated cheeks or even trying to hide your face that had a small toothy smile— so fucking cute.

“Is the bath done?” Your eyes going to the tub a few feet away back to Toji who was washing his body with a wash cloth.

“Course, but you always fall asleep in there Doll ‘nd I told you I don’t like. It’s not safe.”

“I’ve never fallin asleep in there!”

His eyes met yours, eyebrow raised. Try it [+], I dare you.

“Maybe once.”

He shook his head, going back to washing his body. Unbelievable.

“More than once.” It came out more like a question even though you knew the answer to it.

Toji peered down at you, your eyes back at the tub. The steam was rising from the water, bubbles floating to and fro in the water. Slowly disappearing. Then your eyes went back to him. Big brown doe eyes, a tilt of your head and the cherry on top; a pout on your two tone lips. Not two big, not too small- just enough to push.

You were hell.

How could he say no when you were looking up at him like that.

“Fine- fuck baby, take your time!”

You slipped twice getting to the tub. Once because of how wet your foot was because of the water and another time because your legs felt exactly like the water under your foot. If it weren’t for the bath, you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. Now you would be able to, a little limp like you worked out (I mean you probably could consider what you did an hour ago a workout) but you’d be able to!

Toji was right there with you, towel in his lap just barely covering his manhood, sitting on the hinoki and washing his hair. Talking to you about anything from the lunch you packed him last week to the new sake he wanted to try. You loved it, Toji’s voice was like a melody, deep, scratchy because of all the cigarettes yet smooth— a shot of whiskey.

“Scoot.”

You moved forward so Toji could sit behind you, it was his spot whenever you took baths together. After care or not. He loved getting to hold you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, leaving kisses at every place he left a hickey, maybe placing one or two new ones there.

Tonight was quiet, The Light In by Lana playing. You really were tired, unwilling to fight it but at peace— right where you needed to be. Toji was rubbing your arms, your thighs, your shoulders, just in the right places— he had some godly hands. Toji looked at you, who was completely slumped, your head resting against the tub, your long lashes slowly meeting each again and again.

“Ready for bed?”

“Mmm.”

You don’t know how, or when but by the time you’d realized— Toji had you in bed, teeth brushed, pajamas and scarf on and was rubbing the small of your back. Whispering how you did so well for him, how good you were, his adorable baby— a total sweetheart.

“Love you papa.” You mumbled, drifting off without a second thought.

Toji smiled, taking in your gorgeous face one more time before closing his eyes.

“Love you too mama.”

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Her Ex Got Engaged

↳ Masterlist

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✯ pairing: Max Verstappen x GF! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: None✯

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Almost two years had passed since the end of the longest relationship she had ever had. Six years that had introduced her to romantic love—and to romantic deception. She could still picture the subtle yet undeniable shift in his expression as she spoke animatedly about the future she envisioned for them. It wasn’t until much later that she realized that moment had been a warning, a quiet revelation that he did not see her in his.

She soon learned what a breakup truly felt like—the endless crying, the ache in her chest, the unbearable helplessness. Absolute hell.

Looking back, though, she couldn't help but feel grateful for the conversation that ended it all. Painful as it had been, it had given her the clarity she needed. It had hurt—stung far too much—to realize he had known for some time that she was not the one but hadn’t ended things sooner. She had spent too long wondering why. But perhaps, if he had, she wouldn’t be where she was now—with someone who loved her the way she deserved. And for that, she was grateful.

It was late morning, and as Max played with the cats beside her, she scrolled through Instagram stories to see what her friends and other people were up to. Clubbing, dinners, traveling, running—the usual things people posted. She would glance at each for just a second before swiping to the next. But then she stopped, her finger frozen on the screen as she stared, at one point almost vacantly, before tapping on the shared post.

Engaged. She stared blankly at the caption, the single word mocking her. After what—a year? He was already engaged to someone else? How? Max barely glanced at her phone at first, still focused on scratching behind the cat’s ears. But when he noticed the way she had suddenly stilled, eyes fixed on the screen, he leaned in slightly.

“Who’s that?” he asked, peering over her shoulder. “One of your friends?”

She blinked, hesitating a second too long. “Uh—”

Max smirked, nudging her playfully. “Tell me it’s not another wedding. I’m running out of excuses not to go.”

That earned a small, breathy laugh from her, but it wasn’t quite right—too forced. She locked her phone and placed it face-down beside her. “No wedding,” she said lightly. “Don’t worry.”

Max tilted his head. “Then why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”

“I don’t,” she said quickly. “It’s nothing.”

His smirk faded slightly as he studied her face. “It’s someone, though.”

She sighed, knowing there was no way out of this. “My ex,” she admitted. “He got engaged.”

Max’s expression didn’t change immediately. He just stared at her, then let out a quiet huh.

For a second, she thought maybe he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. But then, with that signature bluntness of his, he asked,

“So why do you care?”

She turned her head sharply. “I don’t.”

Max gave her a look, eyes flicking to her phone. “You do.”

His eyes met hers again, piercing through her, almost imploring an answer. Why did she care? It had been two years. She was happy—with herself, with him, with her life in general. And yet, it felt like a hard punch to the stomach.

“I don’t know,” she sighed.

Max’s jaw tensed slightly, his fingers drumming against his knee as he studied her. He wasn’t the type to jump to conclusions, but something about this—about her reaction—itched at him in a way he didn’t like.

“You don’t know?” he echoed, his voice quieter now, but there was an edge to it.

She ran a hand through her hair. “I mean, it’s offensive,” she said, trying to explain. “That he just—engaged so fast.”

Max’s brow furrowed. “And that bothers you because…?”

She sighed. “Because it makes me wonder how long he knew I wasn’t the one.”

Max was quiet for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. Then, in a tone sharper than before, he asked,

“And do you still care?”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“About him,” Max clarified, his expression unreadable. “Because you look like someone just punched you, and I don’t know why else you’d be this upset if you were actually over it.”

She blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Max, no—”

“Because if you’re not happy with me, you should tell me,” he continued, his voice still controlled. “If you still want him—”

“I don’t,” she cut him off, shaking her head firmly. “I swear, I don’t.”

He exhaled, looking away for a second, his fingers tightening into a fist before relaxing. “Then why?” His voice was quieter now, but no less intense. “Why does it feel like you’re still stuck in it?”

She opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come right away. It wasn’t about her ex, not really. It was about time, about the fact that she had spent years loving someone who hadn’t loved her back the same way. It was about realizing that she had been so blind to it.

But looking at Max now—his guarded expression, the slight clench of his jaw, the way his fingers twitched like he wasn’t sure whether to reach for her or pull away—she realized that he didn’t see it that way.

Her chest tightened.

She reached for his hand, curling her fingers around his. “Max, I’m happy, the happiest I’ve ever been,” she said, her voice softer now. “With you. I swear, I don’t want him back. I just—it caught me off guard. That’s all.”

His shoulders didn’t relax immediately, his thumb ghosting over her knuckles as he studied her face, searching for something.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and for all his bluntness, there was something vulnerable about the way he said it.

She squeezed his hand. “I’m sure.”

Max exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly like he was mad at himself for even thinking otherwise. Then, finally, he tugged her closer, his hand slipping to the nape of her neck as he rested his forehead against hers.

“I don’t like seeing you like that,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “And I really don’t like the thought of you still caring about him.”

She smiled, brushing her nose against his. “I don’t.”

His lips barely curved, but the tension in his body faded just slightly.

“Good,” he murmured before kissing her, slow and deliberate, like he was grounding himself in her. Like he was making sure she was here. With him.

Max pulled back just enough to look at her, his hand still cradling the nape of her neck. His expression had softened—still serious, but there was a hint of something else now. Something almost teasing.

“So,” he murmured, thumb brushing absently over her skin. “If you’re so bothered by him getting engaged, you wanna just… get engaged too?”

She blinked. “What?”

Max shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, why not? Even the score.”

She scoffed, shoving his shoulder. “Oh, now you want to propose, just to be petty?”

He chuckled, but there was a glint in his eyes, something more thoughtful than his usual teasing. “Maybe. I think we’d look better in engagement photos, anyway.”

She rolled her eyes while smiling. 

Max smirked and leaned in again, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth before murmuring against her skin, “One day, though.”

Her breath hitched slightly.

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his usual cocky demeanor softened by something undeniably genuine. “Not just to ‘even the score’ or whatever,” he added, his voice quieter now. “But because I want to.”

She swallowed, her heart skipping a beat at the certainty in his tone.

“One day,” she echoed, her lips curving slightly.

Max’s grin widened. “Good, and it will be a much fancier ring than that, okay?.”

She laughed, shaking her head as he pulled her into him again. “Okay.”

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✯ authors note: English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <3

[thestraprider]

fuck. paige mentally cursed inside her head.

why did you have to be so fucking pretty?

both of your chests were rising up and down in rapid breaths, necks covered in marks as paige’s lips went to your harden nipples, the prettiest shade of pink she had ever seen as her teeth sunk into it, pinching the other between her pointer and middle finger.

you let out a whimper as paige continued to nip your chest, you arched your back as you weakly pushed her shoulders. “fuck you, paige.” you breathly muttered, “i told you not to leave goddamn marks… i have to—ah, meet my friends later!”

“yeah?” paige’s voice was muffled against your skin, moving her lips up to pepper kiss the skin of your chest as she sped up the pace of her hips. her strap that was hitting every part of your inside for the past hour had caused your body to limp on the mattress, gasping for air and crying out her name. “there are only two solutions for that, ma.”

you hate to admit it to yourself, but paige was the only one who can fuck you like this. splitting you open, fucking you so good that you felt your whole body and mind were melting. you bit your lower lip to stifle a scream when paige angled her hips a bit, bullying your weaker spots.

tears were threatening in the corner of your eyes as you felt a warm breath on your neck. paige softly kissed your earlobe, “first, just show it to them. let them know that i’m the one who’s making you feel this good because your batshit ex-boyfriend couldn’t.”

your mind couldn’t fully comprehend what paige was saying, especially when she lifted your lower back before pistoning her hips, hard enough that the bed started to shake.

“or, just ditch them for tonight and spend your time with me.” paige grinned before sucking your neck.

you let out a loud cry, both of your arms were grabbing paige’s back, kneading your acrylic nails on her back as the blonde winced at the pain.

“shit, ‘m so close…” you moaned on her ear so sensually—making paige clenched her jaw while you pressed your upper body against hers. “please… mmh, let me cum…”

skin slapping against skin. the lewd feeling of cum dripping down your thighs, the idea that you wouldn’t be able to even walk properly motivated paige even more instead of getting worn out.

paige immediately slowed down her pace, holding your hips on the mattress with a tight grip as she straightened her body. you cursed in irritation when the feeling of your climax faded away, you tried to grind your hips against her strap but the grip on your waist forcefully stopped you.

“seems so desperate, huh…” paige cooed after you let out a frustrated whine, “hold it until i say so.”

you pressed your nails on her biceps, “fuck you.”

paige let out a short laugh, “i’m already fucking you, baby.” you were about to open your mouth for a rebuttal until she held your knee, widening your legs even more before slamming her hips harder.

everything was suddenly happening too fast, the overwhelming pleasure shocked your body that you couldn’t do anything but cry and moan. you knew damn well that paige was always serious about her words.

you squeezed your eyes shut when paige lifted your lower back off the bed again, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl and arching your back.

paige admired you, licking her dried lips before biting it. you looked so beautiful underneath her, your plump lips that always captivate her eyes, your neck that was covered by her marks, and your teary eyes that were filled with lust while taking her strap so obediently.

“fuck!” you cried out when paige just decided to be the most menacing person in the room, bringing her thumb down to rub your clit so perfectly while slamming her strap inside you. “stop—ah… shit, p… it’s too much!”

paige didn’t answer you, she wanted to make you feel so good. so good that you’d forget everything except crying out her name.

she leaned her face down—closer to you that her lips were almost brushing against yours. “hold it, baby.” paige whispered on your lips, “or i won’t let you cum.”

you locked your gaze at her, after hearing what she just said made you pout. “please… i’ll be good to you, p.”

“mhmm,” paige hummed, “you should, baby. didn’t like your attitude for the whole day.”

a gasp pushed past from your lips, moaning when her grip tightened on your waist that was enough to leave a bruise. and paige began to pick her pace up more while you grip on her biceps.

“nghh fuck, please, please, please-!” you were losing it, you were going to lose it. with tears tracking down your face, your body sore and used—all you needed now was: “please, paige… i need it, wanna cum! wan’ it so bad…” you croak, babbling and sputtering on your saliva.

she pressed a soft kiss on your lips, “cum.”

paige’s body tensed against yours and a sob escaped your throat, long and ruined as she thrust once, twice more with a long groan as a warmth liquid exploded, making you squirt as your legs shook extremely around her waist.

she pulled the strap out from your pussy, all wet mixed with cum. you gasped for air while you let your legs open wide in front of paige, all numb and shaky.

you thought she was done, you thought she already went to the bathroom to clean yourselves up. not until paige pushed her two fingers inside you, making you flinch from the sensitivity.

“paige…” you whined as you felt your body couldn’t move an inch, paige licked a stripe on your clit before sucking it harshly. “m sensitive… i already came..”

paige held your legs, keeping them open while she continued eating you out. “just cleaning you out, baby.”

[laufeysvalentine]

i want you. pt 2, remus lupin

intertwined, sewn together

remus lupin x fem!reader | masterlist, pt 1

summary ༄ remus x best friend!reader -- the aftermath of you accidentally confessing your love for remus and running away, hurt/comfort, fluff

word count ༄ 4.1k

nora’s notes ༄ so sorry for the delay on this, thank you so so so much for all the love on the first part and for 200 followers??? that's gen insane i love all of you 💘 i haven't proofread so pls excuse grammar

you’ve barely gotten a wink of sleep next morning, and it shows. you finally crash in the morning to sleep through breakfast and lunch. 

at two, you’re up, but barely. you feel like absolute shit. the feeling only worsens when lily comes in, pity in her face. she knows what happened, and the pity only means one thing–there’s a reason he hasn’t come by, and it’s not because he’s in love with you. 

burying your head in your pillow, you let out a loud groan. 

“y/n?” she pulls back your covers and offers a plate up to you. “remus brought this for you, cause you weren’t at breakfast or lunch.” 

“don’t say his name in my presence,” you beg her, only half-joking. the plate she brought has all your favorite foods from the great hall, and you hate that remus knows you so well, well enough to pick them out. 

“he wants to talk to you,” she says once she’s sat on her own bed a few feet from you. “he just didn’t want to cross your boundaries. i’ll tell him off if you’d like, just let me know.” 

“i love you, lily, but it’s not necessary. it’s not his fault half of hogwarts loves him and the prettiest girl out there fell to his feet,” you huff, a sadness leaking out of you. you want to blame him. but really, you can’t. “he didn’t do anything wrong. i guess.” 

lily’s eyebrow raises as she waits for you to elaborate. “he did make you fall to his feet, didn’t he.” 

“you know who i’m talking about.” as if you could compare to celeste… although you’re pleased with the compliment. “and i’m still mad.” 

“you have every right to be,” she concedes, mouth open to say something when the door bursts open, carrying in a flustered marlene. 

“please, y/n, i’m begging you. do something about him. he’s run off and sirius can’t find him, so he’s bugged james about it who’s bugging me, and i can’t take it anymore.” her cheeks are flushed, begging, but you can’t bring yourself to listen to her. “i’d never do this to you, but i’ll truly rip my ears off for another moment of this.” 

“marlene.” lily’s glaring at the blonde, grabbing her by the elbow. “don’t listen to her, y/n. do whatever you want.” 

as much as you feel bad, you’re not ready. you don’t want to face him, like, ever. 

and that’s what you resolve to do for the whole next week. knowing remus, he would never make you uncomfortable, not on purpose, at least, but he knows you too well to make you uncomfortable by accident. so, three days later, when you stumble into breakfast with approximately thirty minutes of sleep and bags suitcases under your eyes to match it and choose the seat farthest away from him, he doesn’t move closer to you. 

still, you feel his eyes on you the whole time, but you just stare down at your plate, making pictures with the eggs and ketchup. while half-listening to marlene’s blabbering, you craft a smiley face, then a frowny face to match your mood, a mickey mouse, and then this girl that you hate for no reason because she’s really not hateable at all you just hate her because she kissed this guy who’s your best friend but technically you’re not even dating you’re just in love with him. fuck. you push away the eggs and glance around the table. the first thing you notice is him noticing you–it’s the first day you’ve not felt too lovesick and heartbroken to ditch class and meals, for risk of seeing him, so your presence speaks for itself. even then, every morning you wake up to an artfully arranged plate outside your door, laden with your favorite foods. the same comes for lunch and dinner, and you’re not stupid. you know he sends them. 

but you can’t talk to him. not now that you know he’s not in love with you like you are with him, at least not as much. he might even like celeste by now. not “might,” he probably does. you wouldn’t hold it against him. they would be beautiful together. a fresh round of nausea sloshes into the walls of your gut. 

when you deem it socially appropriate to leave, you take the chance, getting up with the masses heading to class, trying to slip through the crowd to avoid him. 

“y/n,” sirius croons from your right, so close you can feel his hot breath on your ears, and your heart sinks. where sirius is, the marauders are soon to follow. “oh, how i missed you this past eternity.” 

you grimace at him, pushing his cheek away from your face. “hi, padfoot. it’s been three days.” 

“and what days they’ve been!” he proclaims dramatically, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pretending to faint. 

“siri. i’m not in the mood.” you mutter, slipping out from under his arm, chancing a glance behind you to make sure the blond you would recognize anywhere is not here. you’re in the clear for now, you’ve no clue where he, peter, and james have gone or why they’re so far from sirius. 

he senses your mood shift and transforms into serious sirius. “you need to get back with moony.” 

when you blow out a heavy breath, your hair flies forwards and hangs limply on your face. “a, as i said, it’s been like three days. b, we were never together so i can’t ‘get back’ with him. c, and listen carefully when i say this, i don’t want to.” he doesn’t want me are the words you leave sour and dormant on your tongue. 

“but, y/n,” he pouts. “he really misses you, even if it’s only been a little while. he’s a wreck, knowing he made you cry.” 

you’ve heard enough. of course. this is why the marauders aren’t near him. it’s a ploy, an intervention if you may. 

“no, don’t even.” you pull away from him and push through the throngs of students to get away from him. you toss out a parting over your shoulder before slipping away, “i’ll see you in class.” 

just kidding. you sneak back into your dorm and let the blankets swallow you, watching the ceiling to pass the time. remus is not in love with you. he never will be. 

as you count the amount of nicks in the ceiling paint for the forty-hundredth time, you think about him again. as you have for the past eight years. 

even if he’s not in love with you–you can’t imagine a life without him. you can’t sacrifice your friendship, all those friendly touches, the feeling of his warm hand splayed against your back, the sight of him curled in his bed with his newest book. how could you never discuss your favorite books with him again? how could you sacrifice that golden look that makes you melt over as you speak? those perfectly brewed cups of tea, vanilla-scented sweaters, knitted thickly with love? 

he’s your best friend. the answer is, you could never live without him. even if you’re in love with him and he’s not, in fact, in love with you back. you’ll just have to get over it. 

whoever painted this ceiling left fourteen cracks. 

–

you’re going to get over him, you swear it. this is what you repeat as you walk into the great hall, your eyes trained on the ground, slipping into the seat next to lily. you refuse to look at him or any of his friends. you won’t. you can’t. 

it’s the first time you’re here. sure, you came by the table this morning, but drawing pictures with ketchup until the whole plate looks like you murdered the bottle isn’t exactly engaging. now, you and marlene are conversing about stupid things: the shoes you need in your wardrobe, your favorite song to listen to while crying in the shower vs. in your bed. and important questions, like what’s better, milk or dark chocolate (dark chocolate, obviously, and don’t even think about saying white chocolate. that is not real chocolate)? 

you can feel his eyes on you, drilling almond brown holes into your skull. the urge to look up chokes you. you want to see the curve of his smile, how lopsided it leans on him, the scars that dance around his lips. but you steel yourself. you can’t. you won’t. 

–

you’re ignoring him. the problem is, it’s not really working. 

no matter where you are, you can feel his eyes on you; even if you’re across the classroom, you swear you can smell the earthiness of his cologne, his sweaters. 

fuck. 

you are not getting over him anytime soon. 

the two of you manage to avoid any contact for what feels like months–days, maybe. in the hallways, you brush past each other, sometimes mumbling an apology or two as you pass. nothing sincere. nothing short of incredibly, incredibly awkward. 

you tuck yourself into hidden corners of the library, the astronomy tower, the room of requirement, anywhere where you can get away. from him, from the scary softness of sirius’ eyes when he looks at you, the even more terrifying relative quiet from marlene, who was seemingly instructed to give you space by lily. everything is awkward. and it’s all your fault. 

when the glances stares fade, you know why, and you hate yourself for knowing. the full moon’s nearing. remus’ shoulders are sagging, his looks come from lower down. his body is aching more and more, he twists around nearly every class you have together, something you know he’s always done to try and alleviate some pain. his undereyes are bruised and swollen, and you see the brass of his cane around the common room, and you hate that you aren’t there for him. he hates that thing, he always tries to avoid using it. 

it must be especially bad this time around. 

and when lily comes into your dorm the day before the full moon, skin sunken with exhaustion, you figure something’s up. 

“lily?” you ask, jolting up from your book. the mug of tea that he drank the night you stopped talking is still by your bedside. you can’t bring yourself to move it. what if that’s your last memory with him? 

“hm?” she murmurs, flopping onto her bed. 

“what’s wrong?” you ask as you turn your body towards hers. 

she waves her head, face in the pillow. 

“you can talk to me about him,” you frown. “it’s related to him, isn’t it? the full moon?” 

the redhead sits up, looks at you. she’s not one to lie, never has been. “...yeah. james is just stressed, because he thinks this transformation has already been really painful for him, and it’s only going to get worse tomorrow.” 

your head is bobbing. you swallow your feelings–what is that, guilt? shame? you don’t know what. maybe celeste broke up with him. not everything is related to you. 

“mhm,” you say in response. absorbing. 

she hesitates, mouth opening, before shutting it again. “it’s–well, i don’t…” 

you shrug. “you don’t have to say anything, lily.” 

so she doesn’t. 

—

lily’s right. in the eight years you’ve known him, he has never looked so rough pre-transition. you steal peeks at him all day, like he’s a tv show you weren’t supposed to watch as a kid. it looks like the life is steaming out of him. his hair–artfully messy, as always—is mussed and unwashed. when he walks out of the classroom, it’s a limp, with a slow clunk to it that makes your chest hurt. you want nothing more than to rush over and help him, but no. if he wanted you, well, if he didn’t want celeste, he would have come after you. 

he doesn’t want you. you repeat that to yourself when you see him almost pass out onto his plate during lunch, making a worried sirius (yes, sirius of all people, who usually tries to stay calm in situations like these) rush him to his dorm. 

but he reappears only an hour later for potions, when his back is tensed, tight, and his shoulders are hunched over. slughorn tries to call on him twice, but he pretends he isn’t there. 

your chest aches when he doesn’t show up to dinner, and halfway through, the rest of the marauders disappear, muttering to themselves as they go. you rub your collarbone and watch, your anxiety heightened. 

once the great halls door slam, the first place your eyes dart to is the hufflepuff table. you don’t even need to look around to see her. everyone within a ten-person vicinity is ever so slightly turned towards her, like her charisma is impossible to ignore. they want to be her, be with her, know her. 

she’s speaking animatedly, tossing out an airy laugh now and then. maybe remus hasn’t told her yet. 

some evil, petty part of you relishes in that fact. 

the girls are watching you, eyes wide and lips pursed. they’re trying to read you, determine how you’re feeling. dorcas, of all people, has been checking in on you everyday since you and remus fell out, and marlene too, in her own sarcastic way. but seeing them together made you ache for a cavity that could never be filled. a gryffindor love, a spectacular love. one that existed in your if onlys. 

you head straight to your room after dinner to try and throw yourself into your homework, but the distraction doesn’t work. you can’t stop thinking about remus. is he okay? you wish you could be with him. why did you start ignoring him in the first place? 

as the stars fade into the sky, lily bursts through the door, mary an hour later. marlene sneaks in, then out, then in again, with dorcas by her hand. but as time ticks, ticks, ticks, you can’t stop from looking at it. you’re the only one awake now, but the marauders probably aren’t back yet. 

you try your hardest to battle the reluctance that accompanies you to your bed, but you can’t. you just lie there, body tensed as images of remus run through your mind. the two of you visiting his hometown, or him on your lap, your favorite place for him to be. you’ll never forget the feeling of his coarse hair against the lilting touch of your fingers, or how he would turn onto his side, nose bumping against your stomach as he nuzzled into you. 

after waiting what feels like hours, you check the clock. yes. he’s back now. you rise as quietly as you can, slipping out of the dorms and darting towards the hospital room. is he okay? 

madam pomfrey is nowhere to be seen, and as you pass blue curtain to blue curtain, all you can hear is your shuffling. no one’s here–save for one figure on the end, flat on their back, moonlight filtering through the window above them. 

it hugs him in a most flattering light, his eyes closed and relaxed. fuck, he’s already sleeping. you don’t know if you should be happy he won’t see you or not. on your tiptoes, you creep towards his bed, where there’s a chair on his right. when you touch it, it’s still warm. the marauders must have just left. 

here he is. remus lupin. 

your eyes scan his face and arms, any body part that’s left out from the blankets. he has a fresh cut running from his elbow upwards, through where his t-shirt curls around his bicep. for someone with such fresh scars, he looks so, so beautiful. 

the second you sit down on the chair, his eyes fly open. 

oh. 

he wasn’t sleeping after all. 

perhaps the most awkward minute of your life passes, the two of you just staring at each other. your lips are parted, limbs frozen, anticipating. 

“rem?” you squeak out, reaching out to touch him as you usually would. you want to trace the scar that runs down his cheek, but he pulls away, muttering. 

without even acknowledging you, he turns on his side, burying his head into the pillow. 

“oh,” you breathe. he doesn’t want you there. you’re so stupid. why the hell would you come here? you know he likes celeste. you saw them kissing for merlin’s sake. 

you’re trying your best to stifle a gasp as your eyes become sticky with tears. what the fuck were you thinking? 

“stop it. just stop it,” he groans. “why are you bothering me again?” 

your limbs are stuck in place. for some reason, you can’t think, move. your thoughts are spinning in circles, racing around your mind. nothing’s coherent right now. 

you look at him again, his muscles shifting against the cotton of his t-shirt, and swallow. this is goodbye, isn’t it? your lips twist. 

“i-i’m sorry. i know you probably want to get your rest, i’ll just–” you have to force yourself to stand up, but when you do, your hand accidentally brushes his back on the small bed, and he jerks back, electrocuted. “oh, i–sorry.” 

he jolts upright, hands on the bed to support him. “dove?” 

you pause your movements, unsure what to do. he knew who you were before, didn’t he? what happened? 

maybe he’s just delirious from lack of sleep. you begin to walk away when a warm hand wraps around your wrist, drawing you backwards. 

“y/n. i–” he stops when you face him, and you can see the exact moment he sees the tears in your eyes, as he pulls you onto the bed, thumb sweeping the wetness under your eye like it’s second nature. his palm, rough with calluses and scars, supports the softness of your cheek, and you melt. “you’re here. you’re really here?” 

his eyes, that soft amber, spilling over with uncertainty and… regret? the same way he would look after one of the marauders’ particularly nasty pranks, or snapping at one of his friends close to the full moon. 

you nod, shoulders tense. “i just wanted to come stop by. i didn’t mean to–”

“no, no,” he interrupts, his other hand coming up to rub your arm. “i’m sorry. i didn’t… i’ve just been having, er, i’ve been having dreams of you all week. i thought you weren’t real.” 

his face is sparkling with earnestness, a kind of hope you hadn’t seen on him in a while. when you don’t say anything, he takes it as a cue to continue. “i’m also sorry for everything. i thought you wouldn’t want to see me anymore. or… i don’t know.” 

“it’s okay, rem,” you promise, trying to build up the cracks threatening to crumble your voice and your resolve. you try to pull away from his touch, but his fingers just find your knee instead, massaging the flesh there. “i didn’t want to get between you and celeste or anything. it seemed like the right thing to do.” the last part of your voice comes out in a throaty whisper. 

“no.” he says firmly. 

“no?” you ask, shoulders crawling towards your shoulders. 

“no. i want you in my life, dove, always. i–celeste and i aren’t anything. i don’t like her. i never did.” his voice peters out, but his gaze on you stays strong. “there’s another girl.” 

does he hate you? want to kill you? because that’s sure what he’s doing right now, and he knows you too well to not know the effect he’s having on you. like he took the sword of gryffindor and peeked it into your chest–not enough to kill you by brunt force, but enough to maim, to let you bleed out onto the bed as you stare at him, betrayal tearing open your veins. 

“that’s nice, remus.” you don’t even know how words are coming out of your mouth at this point. maybe someone’s taken over your body? 

“i’m sorry for not coming up to you, too. i thought it was the right thing to do,” he says quietly, one of his hands dropping from your face. goosebumps follow where his skin met yours. you think the next sound you hear is the crack crack cracking of your heart. “i thought you wanted space from me. and you deserve that. i only let her kiss me cause… well, cause i thought i had to get over you.” 

what?

he’s gauging your expression, you can feel it, but again, everything’s spinning. you might pass out. what’s happening? who is this other girl he loves? 

“i’ve loved you for so long, but i thought there was never a chance that you could love me back. and then, there was that day. but, you’re you, the most gorgeous girl in all of gryffindor, and then there was me. you deserve so much better than me and how fucked up i am. so i left you alone. i thought it was right.” he glances to the side, bringing his hands to his lap. this is not real. you’re not real. he was right. this was a dream, and any minute this floaty feeling will stop and you won’t feel like you can’t feel your body and you’ll wake up hear your alarm and class will start it’s not real it’s not real it’s not real. 

but your hand reaches out to his, shaking. and the next words that tumble out of your lips are: “y-you love me?” 

“how could i not?” a laugh slips from his mouth and those eyes–those beautiful, beautiful eyes–are back on you and you can’t swallow breathe think nothing but those eyes, those sweet eyes. 

your mouth hangs open. “but…” 

“i’m sorry, y/n. and i don’t know if it’s too late, if you’ve found someone better, but i couldn’t ever leave you thinking that i don’t love you back. anyone who didn’t is a fool. an utter fool.” remus scratches at his jaw, lips pursed. “sorry. i just had to say it.” 

“you love me,” you repeat, looking at him. “you love me?” 

“i always have and i always will. loving you is a part of me, dove, the best part of me there’s ever been.” he sucks in a breath, brings your hand to his lips. when he speaks, you can feel the vibrations of his voice on your skin. “i love you so much.” 

you don’t even realize you’re crying until a tear splashes onto his cheek. you move to touch it, leaning closer to his face as your finger smooths the tear out onto his pretty skin. and then–then, oh, god, you’re so close to him. his breath is so warm. he smells so, so good. 

“can i kiss you, dove?” he asks so softly that you almost don’t hear him–you’re not even sure you do, it might just be instinct that pushes your lips together. something written into your body from birth. you were meant to be his, he yours. 

and merlin, he tastes better than you ever could have imagined. 

remus. your remus. 

a smile spreads across your lips after your next kiss, slow and so, overwhelmingly perfect. he pecks your teeth, your nose. 

“remus,” you say, but a small giggle escapes you before you can finish your sentence. this is surreal. what’s happening right now? are we sure this isn’t a dream? “what are we doing?” 

“kissing, dovey,” he answers with another kiss. “and, maybe, if you wanted, i could be yours?” 

“you’ve always been mine, rem,” you respond solemnly, and he tugs you down next to him, pulling your body under the covers so you’re flush next to him. “only now i can kiss you.” 

his palms come up to your cheeks, one to your hair, and again, the two of you connect–by your lips, sure, but also by you. you’ve connected, there’s no breaking it now. 

“and all of that you were saying?” you pull back every so slightly to look at him, to know him. “you are the most perfect soul i could ever ask for. i want you to tell me every time you feel like you don’t deserve me, because that’s just untrue. you deserve everything and more, and you are so perfect for me, i can’t even fathom how you exist.” 

at that, he pulls you back into him, plants and plants and plants his lips on your face. “there’s no part of me that doesn’t love you, dove. my heart, my mouth, my soul. all of me.” 

and when you’re too tired to kiss any longer, if that concept even exists, you fall asleep leg between his, nose pressed into crease between his neck and jaw, arms around each other, intertwined with him for the night–though, in a way, you always have been. and you always will be. 

masterlist

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[poetic-vulgarity]

ʍoN ǝW ɹɐǝH II - Karina x Reader

Word Count: ~ 5K

Prompt: Ever since they were trainees, Y/N knew just what buttons to push to frustrate Jimin.

Maybe she took things a bit too far when she decided to cheat on her.

Tags: Angst, Cheating, Ghosting

Part I, Part 2

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

"I already told you I want the schedule changed!"

Jimin rolled her eyes at Y/N's irresponsible, petty, selfish behavior. "And I already told you, your schedule isn't being changed. Suck it up and deal with it!"

Y/N felt her words get stuck in her throat for a little while. You know? That feeling of injustice that just takes over you?

"This is ridiculous! I'm not flying 14 hours to Chicago for a four-minute shoot. Even you have to be dense to not see the problem!"

It was two o'clock in the morning, and they had a packed schedule the next day. Jimin could be in bed, like the rest of the members. Yet, there she was, in the middle of the living room, listening to Y/N.

"You're acting like an idiot," Jimin said, crossing her arms over her chest. Her glare was icy. Then again, she barely looked at Y/N without it anymore. "You signed a contract. Just follow it and keep your mouth shut."

"I'm acting like an idiot?" Y/N hissed, hands balled into fists at her sides. She felt like she was choking with rage.

The cold, unforgiving look in Jimin's eyes took her off guard even more—the way the older girl was glaring at her, like she was nothing more than a little nuisance.

She didn’t think, or even realize she was doing it, but she took a step forward until she was right in front of Jimin, staring her down.

"Had this been Minjeong, Aeri, or Ning, you would've fought to have the schedule changed."

"Well, it's not, is it?" 

Y/N swallowed hard. She didn’t know why those words hurt more.

"I'm your member as well," Y/N gritted her teeth, fists so tight her nails dug into the rough skin of her palm. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Fuck our relationship—you could at least treat me like your member. Do your job as a leader."

"I'll be a leader when you start being a member," Jimin scowled. "Because I'm done with your attitude. You're selfish, and all you do is create problems for the group. When have you actually been useful for us? Or do you serve only to create those stupid headlines when you decide to be a dumbass now and then?"

That made Y/N flinch. Jimin sounded disgusted.

"Fuck you, Jimin." She spat out, grabbing her jacket and shoes as she made her way to the front door of the dorm.

Jimin wanted to follow her.

She wanted to scream at Y/N too. Tell her how much of an idiot she was.

But no. Jimin was the older one between them. She was the leader of the group. It was her job to be the level-headed one between the two of them.

Her hands shook with pent-up rage. But she didn't say anything. She didn't follow Y/N to apologize.

Jimin stood alone in the middle of their dorm, feeling more empty than she ever had.

In the end, it was just another fight.

Another one of their usual fights.

And everything went back to how it used to be.

They went to Chicago. Y/N was there for a few hours before catching a plane to Italy for another event, then she returned to South Korea.

SM Town was close, and the girls needed to practice.

The fact that Y/N was exhausted, jet-lagged, and a little sick from the photoshoots outside in the winter changed nothing.

"Hello, guys! How are you?"

They waved at the camera, filming the scenes for a backstage vlog that would be posted on their channel.

"Today, we are here to practice for our upcoming performance at SM Town. As always, we are very excited!"

It was Giselle's turn to speak, so Jimin took a step back, arms wrapped around Minjeong's waist as she rested her head on the smaller girl's shoulder from behind.

Y/N could practically see the comments coming their way.

'Winrina is perfect'

'I want someone who looks at me the way Karina looks at Winter'

'They should just kiss already'

It was inevitable to find them in every single video where the two were a bit more touchy.

Y/N felt like a fool.

Jimin and her weren't together anymore. They broke up months ago, and yet…

When Jimin looked at Minjeong, Y/N could only see the love and adoration in her eyes.

She felt sick to her stomach.

She hung around in the background while the girls filmed the video, perking up with a comment or two just to make it seem like she was really there.

Other than that, she didn’t really speak.

She was too exhausted. Her body felt heavy. And it was starting to get difficult to keep a smile on her face. Her throat felt sore. Her eyes felt droopy.

She wondered if Jimin could feel her staring at her and Minjeong from behind Aeri. It was hard not to, when the older girl kept nuzzling her face on Minjeong's neck, making the singer giggle.

It wasn't something that was totally surprising, though. Not when it had happened so many times before.

It was during interviews, shows, recording sessions. It was in the studio, in the dance practice room, in the streets, at home.

With Minjeong, Aeri, and Ning. But mostly with Minjeong.

Again, not surprising. But it felt rather lonely for Y/N.

The group had always been so close. She had once considered Minjeong her soulmate, Giselle her older sister, Ning her little one.

Now they only looked at her when the cameras were on.

She understood them, in some way. In the other way, she was constantly angry at them.

No one had given her a chance to explain herself when the entire cheating incident occurred. She knew it looked bad, but they had been teammates for years. Minjeong had been her best friend since before they even met Jimin... and they couldn't even hear her out?

So, yeah, she felt petty enough to be mad at all of them for a while. It was a flame that still burned in her chest, but more softly now. She was getting tired.

"Y/N, what about you, how are you feeling about the dance routine?" The cameraman suddenly turned to her.

Y/N took a sharp breath in, her eyes widening slightly at the sudden question.

She looked towards the camera and sent it a smile.

"I'm excited," Y/N said, her voice coming out a little croaky. "I'm sure we're going to give the best performance we can. We've been practicing really hard for it. I'm very proud of all the members."

And she meant it.

They were like perfect machines on stage, able to work together and put on a good performance. It was almost as if they could tell what the other members wanted.

It had been what made Aespa such a hit in the first place.

But you can't be hits without a lot of work. And a lot of work happened to be the biggest problem in Y/N's life.

Only one day before SMTown, the girls were invited to a radio show, and management only refused offers when they literally couldn't find a single vacant spot in Aespa's schedule.

So, there they were.

"What is Winter's favorite color?"

Jimin was quick to jump on her seat, "Ivory!"

A small ding echoed around the radio studio, and a big smile took over the leader's face as she celebrated.

"Very well! We are at 6 points for Y/N, 4 points for Karina, Winter, and Giselle, and 3 points for Ning. This last question will either decide the 2nd place of the game or equalize Ning to the second place," the radio show announced as loud music played in the background.

"And the last question is... what is Y/N's favourite ice cream flavor?"

Jimin's hand flew to the button, along with Winter's, Ning's, and Giselle's.

The answer was obvious for them. They had spent countless hours making fun of Y/N for it.

"Cinnamon!" Jimin was the first to respond.

"Yeah, she likes cinnamon ice cream," Winter grimaced. "It's disgusting."

"Don't know how she eats it."

"That is correct!" The announcer turned his card around to reveal the answer, and a small smile appeared on Y/N's face.

"Jimin wins second place!"

Yeah, Y/N didn't want to let Jimin win. "Actually, I'm allergic to cinnamon."

Everyone froze for a few seconds. Karina, in particular, was quick to frown, head snapping to Y/N. She knew all of Y/N's allergies. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"You're not."

Y/N chuckled, looking around the room as she noticed how heavy the atmosphere was getting. "I am," she let out quietly. "It's quite recent."

Jimin was confused, to say the least. Y/N loved cinnamon. She liked it in sweets, ice creams, perfumes. Hell, Jimin switched her perfume for a cinnamon one when she found out Y/N liked it, years ago. She still used it to this day.

"Since when?"

"A few months ago." Y/N sent her a knowing look before turning to the host. "I say no one gets the point since they got it wrong."

Jimin refused to believe what she was hearing. 

Was Y/N lying?

She had almost missed these little spats between them.

Almost.

"No, no! How am I supposed to know your allergies? I deserve the point!" Jimin argued in the most polite way possible, but Y/N could see the competitive fire behind her eyes.

"As the leader..." Y/N was definitely going there. "Isn't it... your obligation?"

Jimin opened her mouth to respond but Y/N was already talking again.

"You know what," she said, shrugging her shoulders. There was a small smile on her face. She was enjoying this—enjoying how irritated Jimin was getting, how competitive she was getting, how flustered she was. Enjoying how much it took for her to swallow the words that really wanted to come out. "Never mind, just give her the point. She needs it anyway."

And Jimin had to fight back the urge to glare at the other girl.

The host laughed loudly and pointed at Y/N, who had been mostly quiet during the entire show. "I like you!"

Y/N smiled back at him, and they soon moved on to another part of the radio show.

She didn't think much of the entire interaction, but apparently, Jimin did.

Y/N stepped away for a little while once the show had ended, needing to use the bathroom. The managers and members decided to make their way to the vans and told Y/N to join them when she was ready.

Which is why she wasn't expecting to come out of the bathroom and see her ex-girlfriend leaning against the wall of the secluded hallway.

Jimin turned to look at her when she heard Y/N coming out of the bathroom, looking more refreshed than before.

She let out a sigh, crossing her arms over her chest. "Don't you think you're being a bit petty?" she asked, eyebrows furrowed together but face soft, expression neutral.

Y/N was genuinely confused. "Sorry?"

Jimin let out another sigh. "What you said back there. During the show?" she asked, a little annoyed with Y/N. She always managed to make her emotions flare up.

"With the cinnamon?" Y/N shrugged. "What about it?"

"You lied just to get a rise out of me," Jimin grumbled out, looking at Y/N incredulously.

Y/N almost chuckled. "I didn't lie."

"Are you kidding me?" Jimin took a step closer, eyes narrowing into a glare. "You've loved cinnamon your entire life! Every perfume I bought, everything I ever baked for you had cinnamon. Hell, I'm still wearing the perfume right now!"

Y/N nodded, taking a step back as her back pressed against the bathroom door. "Yeah, maybe you should back off a little."

"Are you kidding me?!" Jimin said, hands on her hips now. She was frustrated with her ex-girlfriend, more than she'd been in a while. "You wanted the point so bad you had to lie about it like a child?"

Then it hit her.

What Y/N said.

"What do you mean by 'I should back off a little'?" she asked, taking another step closer.

"I mean, back off!" Y/N pressed a hand to Jimin's shoulder to nudge her away. She was gentle, but her glare wasn't. In only a few seconds, she was walking down the hallway again.

Jimin watched her go, the feeling of Y/N brushing against her skin sending warm chills up her spine. She couldn't help but let her body lean forward, subconsciously wanting to chase after the younger girl.

What was she doing? Why was she acting like this?

"Y/N—"

Y/N was gone already because she knew arguing with Jimin didn't take her anywhere.

She knew they would throw insults at each other until one of them had enough and left.

And she knew that because that's what always happened. And it would continue to happen, for as long as Jimin and the other members refused to hear her out.

So, she got inside the waiting van, put her headphones on, and closed her eyes, pretending she was far away instead of there.

Jimin got into the van shortly after, sitting next to Ning in the very back. She let her eyes wander across the van, taking in the way Minjeong and Aeri interacted with each other—laughing, giggling, smiling, and talking.

And then there was Y/N.

Honestly, Jimin tried to keep the cheating between the two of them. She had never wanted their relationship to affect the group. But Minjeong happened to find her mid panic attack, right after seeing Y/N with the man, and Jimin just couldn't keep the secret to herself. She made Minjeong promise to not treat Y/N differently after that—the two had been best friends long before Jimin appeared in their lives.

But Minjeong was simply unable to look at Y/N in the same way. And when Ning and Aeri noticed the attitude, they were quick to get the answers to their questions as well.

Y/N cheated on Jimin. Y/N was a cheater.

And cheaters didn't deserve kindness.

So, the dynamics within the group shifted, leaving Y/N on one end of the spectrum and the rest of the members on the other.

Jimin bit down on her bottom lip, leaning her head against the side of the van. There was some part of her that still cared about Y/N and this whole situation. She tried her best not to, but she was still so in love with the girl. And she understood her anger.

But that didn't change what had happened. Y/N had broken her trust. She had betrayed her and she had hurt her.

Jimin was lost in her thoughts before someone shook her shoulder. "Huh?" She asked, looking at Ning with a frown.

Ning pointed to the car window, "We're here."

The rest of the members were getting out of the van already. Jimin nodded, grabbing her own bag from beside her before getting out as well.

The five of them were quick to get home and settle in for the night.

Their schedule was impossible these days, so they could never wait to finally get comfortable in their beds.

It was what usually happened. They get comfortable in their b—

"Where the hell are you going?" Jimin was on her way to her bedroom, fresh out of a shower, when she happened to cross a fully dressed and prepared Y/N.

"Out." Y/N said bluntly, not even looking back at Jimin as she pulled a leather jacket over her shoulders. She ran a hand through her hair, a pair of heels in her hands.

Jimin's jaw almost dropped. "You're going out?" She asked, following the girl out towards the living room. She looked good. Really good. Her makeup was perfect, black shirt hugging her body. She always knew how to dress up.

Jimin crossed her arms over her chest, "Where?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N let out a sigh.

This was the last thing she wanted to do.

Explain herself to Jimin.

"Just out."

Jimin shook her head, "It's almost one in the morning, Y/N. You're going nowhere."

Y/N halted by the door, jaw clenched as she turned to Jimin. Her expression was surprisingly calm and, if Jimin didn't know how to read her so well, she might have believed her to be civil.

"Since when are you the one who get's to tell me where I can and can't go?"

Jimin rolled her eyes, "Do you know how many creeps are out at this time? Just stay in."

"Only creep I see is you." Y/N huffed, reaching for the door handle to finally leave.

At that, Jimin let out a scoff. "You weren't saying that when you begged to come back to me after cheating on me."

Y/N almost scoffed. Bringing up their relationship and the cheating always felt like a low blow. "And look who's begging now."

"You—" Jimin's body tensed up, "You're pathetic! You'll go out there and do what? Get attacked and stabbed on the sidewalk?" Jimin asked, almost shouting at her ex-girlfriend.

"Close." Y/N smiled, "I'm gonna get laid."

That made Jimin's breath hitch. She could feel the way her blood boiled and her face heated up. She couldn't let herself lose control of the situation.

"Yeah," Jimin let out, sarcasm dripping from her words, "A new boyfriend. Of course. Cheating on me just wasn't enough, huh?"

"We can talk about it if you want. You know, it's not like we ever got to do that." Y/N was tired of the backhanded shade thrown her way every day.

"Oh, you wanna talk?" Jimin rolled her eyes, taking a few steps closer to where Y/N was standing. "You cheated on me and now you wanna talk? And what good will that do?"

Y/N's heart broke at the accusation. It still hurt to believe that Jimin would think so little of her.

What was the point in even explaining herself? If Jimin didn't trust her enough to even hear her out, then there was no salvation.

Her eyes dropped to the ground as a sigh escaped her lips, "Forget it."

"No, no. You wanted to talk, let's talk!" Jimin said, taking a step closer to Y/N. Her eyes full of anger, sadness, and confusion.

She really wanted to hear what Y/N had to say. She didn't know why, but she desperately wanted to hear it. Maybe she wanted some kind of validation for her own feelings. For the emotions she was still trying to get over.

"Explain yourself, Y/N. Try to explain yourself."

"So you want to hear me out?"

Jimin let out a sigh, "Please?"

She really did. She needed to understand what had happened. 

Y/N was the sweetest person ever. She was the nicest and kindest person Jimin knew.

So how could she do this to her?

"No." Y/N shook her head.

Jimin felt her heart sink in her chest, the little hope she felt getting fainter. "No?" She asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Stings, huh?" Y/N felt all her buried emotions surfacing, "Trying to make things work, only to be shut down? That was the response you gave me seven months ago, when I tried talking to you. And when I tried again a week after, and the week after that, and the following weeks- the fucking months following that!"

Jimin's jaw clenched. She remembered that. She remembered every detail of it. It hurt.

She wanted to take back everything she said back then. She wanted to take back every mean word, but it was too late. She couldn't go back and change how she felt. She couldn't undo it, but she wished she had let Y/N have peace of mind.

"You cheated on me, Y/N. Did you really expect me to be calm? To be gentle and nice when you hurt me?"

A small, broken smile appeared on Y/N's face. "I just wanted you to hear me out. Instead, you shut me out and turned the members against me."

She finally opened the door, "Very leaderlike of you, I must say."

"What the hell are you talking about? None of them turned against you because of me." Jimin shook her head. "They turned against you because you cheated on me!"

She could feel her blood boiling, the way her face heated. "They're my friends! Of course they were going to take my side!"

"Yeah, they were my friends too."

Jimin bit down on her bottom lip. She knew what Y/N said was true. But it didn't change how hurt the members were. Cheating was one of the worst things a person could do. And that was why none of them spoke to Y/N anymore.

"Maybe if you didn't get drunk with some random man you met at the awards, they would still be." Jimin said, voice cold and stern.

Y/N nodded. "Do me a favor and give them a warning for me, yeah? I'm about to be a whore again, so hopefully they can still look at me without vomiting by the time I come back."

"What-"

"And give them all a little kiss in the ass while you're at it too." Y/N closed the door behind herself and didn't look back.

Her friends were waiting for her downstairs, at the entrance door.

They weren't the best influence. Hell, they weren't even a good influence. But they talked to her, they looked at her, and most importantly, they didn't give a single fuck about her idol life.

"Dude, you gotta convince that stupid security guard to give us entrance rights. This is getting ridiculous." Daeun huffed loudly, nudging Y/N as they walked to her car.

The pub wasn't very far away.

Y/N spent her night just as she had promised Jimin. Drinking, dancing, and kissing strangers.

Most were too drunk to recognize her. The ones that weren't were, surprisingly, nice enough to just let her enjoy the night.

When she woke up, a massive headache had taken over her skull. She groaned, squinting her eyes closed when the sunlight slipped through the barely closed curtains and worsened her pain.

It took her a while, but she eventually realized that her phone was ringing. She groaned again, trying to turn around in the bed, when an unfamiliar weight around her waist kept her in place.

She froze, eyes finally opening to find a pretty stranger sleeping at her side.

"Shit."

Her touch was light as she picked up the woman's arm and set it aside. By the time she grabbed her phone, the call had ended, but it didn't take long for another one to ring through.

"Hello?" Y/N croaked out, voice raspy from the lack of water.

"Where the hell are you?"

Jimin's voice appeared through the other line, loud enough to make Y/N jump out of the bed. The last thing she wanted was to wake up the sleeping woman and go through the entire one-night-stand awkward conversation.

"That's... that's a very good question." Y/N's voice was low. She crouched to grab her jacket off the ground, holding her phone between her ear and shoulder as she got dressed.

"Y/N, don't play with me right now." Jimin had never been so angry at anybody. "We're all in the fucking venue—the managers are going crazy looking for you. Do you know how many times I've been yelled at already?! Where the fuck are you?"

"I-" Y/N looked around the room, trying to find any clue. Nothing. "Don't worry about it. I'll open Google Maps as soon as our call ends, it's no big deal."

"It is a big deal!" Jimin yelled as she started pacing back and forth.

The managers were yelling at her, her members were worried. Hell, even their seniors had noticed that Y/N was not around. Everyone was trying to find the whereabouts of the same person.

"You're in so much trouble, Y/N! What if this leaks? The fucking administration board has already set up a meeting to talk about this—do you have any idea of what you've just done?"

Y/N rolled her eyes. She was a grown woman. She had a right to go out and be normal for a little while. They were acting like she had killed som-

There was the door.

"What if someone caught you on camera, Y/N?! What if Dispatch was following you all along? You could destroy the entire group! How could you be so fucking selfish? How could you do this to me and the gi-"

Jimin was cut off by a loud scream on the other end of the call.

She stopped dead in her tracks, the anger from before immediately dissolving. "Y/N? Are you okay?"

The other line was quiet, which terrified Jimin even more. Her stomach twisted as she waited to hear something from the other end of the call.

Pretty soon, she heard another scream.

"Y/N!" Jimin yelled, her heart thumping in her chest. Someone was hurt, she knew it. Y/N was hurt. Y/N was hurt and instead of trying to find out where she was, she had been yelling at her until now.

"Y/N, I swear to God if you don't answer me right now!"

But Y/N couldn't answer—her phone wasn't even pressed to her ear anymore.

She was surrounded.

By two young women. They looked at her with wide eyes, fallen mouths covered with their hands.

"You're—you're Y/N! From Aespa!"

"Y/N from Aespa is in our flat—holy shit!!!"

It didn't take long for the woman Y/N had slept with to run out of her room—no doubt awakened by the screams. She paused to try and understand what was happening, but then her eyes landed on Y/N.

Y/N from Aespa.

Standing in her hallway with messy hair, an unbuttoned top, and heels in hand.

The woman jumped away. "Holy shit!"

Y/N gulped. She needed to get out of there. Right now.

"Can you give me an autograph?" one of them asked. Y/N stared at her.

"That depends..." Y/N looked around the group. "Does any of you have a car?"

Only an hour later, Y/N was stepping out of a Volvo, and the girls were driving away with their pockets a little heavier.

She was finally where she needed to be. The perfect place to continue getting yelled at.

And, indeed, she was.

She was escorted inside the venue by security guards that recognized her.

One of the group's managers was the first to find her.

He stormed through the hallways, looking for the same person that everyone in the building had been searching for. He had been to her dorm, to the dance practice room, and even to her favorite cafe. He searched so hard but found nothing.

That was until he turned a corner and spotted the face that had been driving him insane.

"Where the hell have you been?" the man yelled. "I've been looking for you everywhere!"

Y/N halted on her steps, knowing that she was in trouble.

The man was fuming, the blood rushing up to his head.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused this morning?! You're lucky the press didn't catch you out last night! If they had, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. You would be in Lee Soo Man's office giving him an explanation on your shitty behavior this morning."

The man ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily. "I've been up since seven in the morning trying to find you, do you have any idea of how worried everyone was?"

Y/N pursed her lips, eyes drawn to the ground. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" The man's eyes widened; he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I don't give a crap about your sorry. I'm your manager, you're supposed to answer to me. You can't pull things like this!"

He stopped and took a few breaths, his heart beating faster than he would like.

And then he opened his mouth and continued his yelling. He was soon joined by the two other Aespa managers, and if the entire situation wasn't a loud mess with one man, you could be sure it was with three.

Y/N didn't have much of a choice. She stood there and listened.

She didn't agree with everything they shouted at her, but she wasn't mental enough to speak up.

By the time she reached the stage, where her members were already waiting, the group was an hour behind on schedule, and no one would look her in the eye.

Y/N had to take her hat off to the girls.

They kept their act up.

Be it during practice, when they got home at the end of the day, or the following day—during SMTown.

She was used to being sort of shoved aside, but they had never outright ghosted her.

Their resolve didn't even budge when they were filming an SM Town vlog, so Y/N got a good three seconds of screen time during the video. It, ultimately, didn't matter. Y/N didn't even know why she noticed it.

SM Town began. SM Town ended. The crowd loved it.

Y/N spent more time with her seniors and other groups than with her own members. And by the time night fell and everyone gathered around to go celebrate the show, Y/N was stopped by her manager.

"You should change."

Y/N frowned, eyes falling on the outfit she had just changed into. It was comfortable for her to relax a little but pretty enough to go out and celebrate.

"Why? Is there something wrong with it?"

The man shook his head. "No; it's just not fit for running."

Y/N didn't understand. "Running?"

From the corner of her eye, she noticed a security guard approaching them.

"Running," the man answered. "The higher-ups have spoken." The way he talked made it seem like they were fucking gods. "They want a punishment for your decisions of yesterday. It's not the first time you've pulled a stunt like this, and they've had enough of you."

He looked sorry for a second, but then he turned to the security guard as he walked away. "Fifty laps around the venue. Don't let her stop for too long."

The guard nodded in confirmation, and Y/N felt her mouth fall. "You're kidding."

Her manager just continued walking, so Y/N went on. "I'm not gonna run 50 laps, are you crazy?!"

He shrugged. "You're not leaving this venue without the 50 laps. Lee Yeon here will make sure of it."

She turned to look at the guard and he crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyes unforgiving.

And so there Y/N was. Running around the venue alone, cold air crashing against her red cheeks while she ran.

After the fifteenth lap, she could have sworn her lungs were about to collapse. Her muscles ached and begged to stop. But all she could do was keep putting one foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

Much like she did a week later as she walked up the stairs of SM Entertainment. She knocked but didn't really wait for permission to go inside the office.

She walked up to the director sitting at his desk and handed him the stack of papers she had arranged with her lawyer.

"I'm out. Sue me, do whatever you want—I'm leaving."

[arkhamsbrat]

are you sick of me? would you like to be?

jason todd x reader

jason couldn’t help the constant feeling of being out of place, even with your invitations. your constant, incessant invitations. one night sleepover? come have dinner? sincerity poured out of you. warmth, goodness, everything he wasn’t, couldn’t be.

why were you so insistent on having him around? smiling at him with teeth that wouldn’t tear his skin open. he’d let you, if you asked. shred him up and leave him behind. at least he’d see you smile at him again. its all worth it.

he waits for the day you get tired of him. or bored, scared, disgusted even. one day itll happen. whether it be when he tells you about Red Hood, how he let his rage get the best of him- or when he finally breaks. when he shows you just how badly he needs you. it felt like his ribs were cracked open, with you consistently pulling his heart into your hands, squeezing tightly. he waits for the day you drop it onto the concrete, for you to watch it roll away in the grime.

you don’t. your teeth nip at his arm affectionately when it wraps around you at night. your hands tangle in his hair rather than his veins. you just keep letting him in, practically begging him to stay. gentleness is in your nature, at least with jason. it’s clear he hasn’t been treated kindly, you could tell that from day one.

you were selfish, well, in your own opinion. creating a safe space for him so he did need you. but its only because you needed him just as much. ghosts chase him from a life you hope he’s left behind while he sleeps. his arms tug you closer and you fight back that proud feeling in your chest. you press a kiss against his forehead and whisper that you’re staying, for him. no one else but him.

he’d asked you if you thought he overstepped, took up too much space. you scoffed at him, and leaned against his arm. you wanted to crack him open, wanted to crawl in and never leave the safety he provided you. the guilt would leave him, eventually, when you started demanding he add “his touch”. you wanted it to look collectively like you both lived there. not just you. you started coming home to little things. his books moved from the box under your bed, to your bookshelf. he hung his jacket by the front door

it’s unspoken when the rest of his things slowly migrate to your apartment. one drawer for him on weekends turns into half of the dresser, the closet, the bathroom. your shoe rack has his only three pairs, an extra key for the apartment found its way on the ring that hung by your front door. he didn’t need to ask- you didn’t want him to. what was yours was his. coffee, toothpaste, towels, blankets, anything. all of you.

you tug him with you when you shower, smiling at the false grumbles. his hands massage at your scalp, knowing the favor will be returned when you look back from the shower head. his fear is never gone in full, but it slows. quiets down. he gets to be selfish too now. trap you in his embrace and hide you from the world. from anyone who would ruin this for him.

the feeling of belonging seeped into him every day he came home and there was two plates on the table. when you’d come home from your snack run with two new drinks that you thought looked gross, but you wanted to try with him. when the holidays came around and there were two pairs of disgustingly ugly socks because “we needed them, jason.”

“your apartment” became “our place”. your shared safe haven that would have to be ripped from him piece by piece. you couldn’t leave him, even if you wanted to. jason had cracked you open, crawled to the depths of your heart and chained himself to it. he’d made a home he felt safe in. he’d stopped feeling panicked at the realization that you did the same. he’d take his own hands and tear his chest apart to let you in.

all you have to do is ask.

[hazymoonlinh]

Special ring

A draft I have saved for a whole month bruh

Pure fluff

(Phainon x reader)

In conclusion, he bites you.

The two of you were sitting under a tree on a quiet evening, the battlefield far behind for now. Phainon leaned back against the trunk, the sun painting golden hues on his face as he looked at you. There was a calmness to the air, a stillness that begged for conversation to fill it.

Out of nowhere, he asked, “What’s your take on marriage? And love?”

You blinked, a little startled by the question. “That’s…random,” you said, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

Phainon chuckled lightly. “Is it? I’m just curious.”

You rested your chin on your knees, the breeze tugging at your hair. “Hm…I don’t know,” you admitted, voice quieter now. “I don’t think I really trust it.”

That response caught his attention. His brows furrowed, his playful demeanor replaced with genuine curiosity. “You don’t trust it? Why’s that?”

You stared at the ground, your fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt. “Well…because I grew up in an environment where marriage wasn’t about love. It was a transaction. A way to trade power, secure alliances, or gain something. Most of the marriages I saw didn’t have love in them at all.”

Phainon’s expression softened, though there was a flicker of surprise in his blue eyes. He stayed silent, letting you continue.

“It’s like…love wasn’t part of the equation at all.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the open air. “So…I guess I just don’t think I’ll ever have love. And I don’t think anyone would ever love me.”

Phainon’s eyes went wide at that. He sat up straighter, his full attention on you now. “Huh? Why would you think that? You could always try, you know that, right?”

You looked away, embarrassed by his sincerity. “I…haizz…I seriously don’t know. Maybe I’m scared.”

“You think you’re unlovable?” he continued, his voice softening. “Well, you’re wrong. If anything, you’re one of the most lovable people I’ve ever met. You’re kind, brave, and—hell, you’ve put yourself on the line for people who don’t even deserve it. You’ve got a heart bigger than most, even if you’re scared to show it.”

Your breath hitched, his words cutting through the doubts you’d carried for so long.

“And as for marriage or love?” he added, his signature grin finally returning. “Well, if you don’t trust it, I’ll just have to convince you otherwise, won’t I?”

You stared at him, stunned by his confidence and warmth. He smirked at your reaction, leaning back against the tree again. “So, what do you say? Give love a chance, duckling?”

For the first time in a long time, you felt a small flicker of hope. You nodded, the tiniest smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe.”

“Good,” Phainon said with a wink. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Phainon’s grin turned mischievous as he took your hands in his, holding them as though they were the most delicate things in the world. You blinked, startled by the sudden shift in his mood, and before you could question it, he brought your hand to his lips.

The soft press of his kiss on your knuckles sent a jolt through you, your breath catching. But then—without warning—he popped your ring finger into his mouth.

Your eyes widened as his teeth grazed against your skin, the sensation both strange and electrifying. He bit down just enough to leave a faint mark, his eyes locked on yours the entire time. His playful smirk grew as he pulled your hand back.

“This’ll do it for now,” he murmured, his voice a low hum.

You gawked at him, completely frozen, but he wasn’t done. In one swift motion, he tugged you closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Before I find the perfect ring for you.”

Your brain short-circuited. Words failed you as a deep flush spread across your cheeks. “W-w-what? A ring? What are you talking about? You can’t just—what—Phainon!”

He leaned back, his expression utterly smug as he watched you stumble over your words. “Hmm? Something wrong, duckling? You’re looking a little…red.”

“Red? I’m not—no, you—you can’t just say things like that!” You clutched your hand to your chest, staring at the faint mark he’d left as if it were glowing. “A ring? Are you serious? Are you joking? What does this even mean?!”

Phainon chuckled, reaching out to gently tug at a strand of your hair. “Oh, I’m very serious. But don’t worry—I’ll give you time to process. I wouldn’t want you fainting on me.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, but that only seemed to amuse him further.

“Take your time, love,” he added with a wink. “We’ve got forever.” And he gives you a peck on your cheek.

[levanterhaze]

GAMEBOY — BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader this one is just pure angst and drama, no smut, just teasing each other like two idiots.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[ 5.7k words ]♡― i had to continue this fic in a 2nd part, i felt necessary. maybe i'll continue it in a few more chapters (PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP ON ME) and thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has commented and appreciated this piece. it means a lot to a person who is non-native english wrt. without further ado, have a good read, loves!

♡ [part one]

you’re so indecisive of what I’m saying tryna catch the beat, make up your heart don't know if you're happy or complaining don't want for us to end, where do I start?

The pounding in your head was a testament to last night’s choices. Aspirin was non-negotiable. You could hear Eunji and Sohee's voices from the living room and were surprised that both of them were already awake after their all-nighter.

After leaving the room with Bangchan—because, of course, that happened—you ducked into the bathroom, shot off a text about vomiting and existential regret, and decided to make a graceful exit. Well, as graceful as one could manage after wild sex with the person you’d sworn to hate forever. Pride was nowhere in the equation, but who cared?

As soon as your eyes saw daylight, Eunji and Sohee looked at you judgmentally. You froze in your tracks, still wearing pink Hello Kitty jammies like a monument to your shame. Their judgment was immediate, sharp as a blade. Your heart sped up.

“You’re alive,” Sohee deadpanned, taking a bite of a cinnamon roll. “And looking like shit.”

“Appreciate it,” you shot back, throwing yourself into a chair. “Really warms the soul.”

Eunji’s smoothie slurp was unnecessarily loud, drilling straight into your skull. “We thought about waking you for breakfast but figured you’d need the recovery time.”

You dismissed the idea with a hand wave. "That's okay. Wouldn’t have gotten up anyway.”

"We can have lunch together, if you like. I really need a detox after last night." Sohee curled her lips into a grimace and you almost smiled. Detox advice from Sohee was peak irony.

But then Eunji, ever the chaos-bringer, dropped the bomb. “Oh my God, you guys, I heard the craziest thing last night! Jiwoon—my lit classmate—said he walked in on someone having super loud sex at the party. Guess who it was? Bangchan!”

Your heart plummeted straight into your stomach.

Silence remained and Sohee raised her eyebrows at Eunji.

“Apparently, the guy is a structural hazard,” Sohee chimed in, amused. “Minho said he once broke a floorboard. Who even does that?” Your red-haired friend says giggling.

Eunji giggled. “The girl’s lucky. If Bangchan wrecked me, I’d consider it an honor.”

You summoned your most convincing disdain, rolling your eyes with the energy of someone deeply unimpressed. “Honestly, can we not make him sound like some sort of deity?”

But guilt clung to you like a second skin, mingling with vivid flashes of last night—the furniture banging against the wall, Bangchan’s muscles taut as he tried to steady it. The memory burned, searing and humiliating, until Eunji’s voice yanked you back to reality.

The memory faded like mist when Eunji said it again. "Anyway, the girl’s lucky. I wish I was knocked down by Bangchan."

Lucky. That’s what they’d call you if they knew. Lucky—and a traitor to everything you’d loudly professed about hating him. They didn’t know it was you, and you intended to keep it that way.

From the tone of the chat, Jiwoon didn't see who was in the room with Bangchan, which means he didn't know you were the girl. Trying to ignore the talking and the sweat growing on your hands, you got up and declared that you were going to take a shower and maybe run some laps around the athletics track, because you really needed some fresh air.

The dorm felt claustrophobic. Eunji and Sohee were your best friends and you felt awful for not telling them the truth.

These were your best friends, but the truth felt like a grenade you couldn’t risk dropping. For months, you’d built your personality around despising Bangchan, and now? One night had unraveled it all.

Worst of all? You couldn’t stop replaying every second of it—and how much you’d loved it.

Sex had always been an exercise in mediocrity. Your exes? Predictably average, hitting the bare minimum on their way to their own finish line. As for finding the clitoris? Let’s just say they navigated like someone using a map upside down—an unsurprising disappointment every single time.

Now, though, Bangchan was something else entirely. A campus legend with a reputation as vast as it was unshakable. Everyone knew about his conquests—more women than you had fingers to count. Every rumor you’d rolled your eyes at turned out to be painfully, thrillingly true. He was better than anything you could have imagined.

Even after a long shower, his touch lingered, like phantom fingerprints etched into your skin. You could still feel him, every moment replaying in a maddening loop. No one had ever made you come twice in one night. No one. That fact alone made him unforgettable—and insufferably smug, no doubt.

Pulling on comfortable clothes, you grabbed a bag, stuffed in some essentials, and checked your phone. The group chat was overflowing with photos and messages from last night’s chaos, but you scrolled past all of it. There was only one person you needed right now.

You: Up for a morning run?

The reply came in under two minutes.

Hyunjin: It’s two in the afternoon. You: Morning for me. Hyunjin: Fine. Be there in five.

You tossed your phone into your bag and took a deep breath. A run was exactly what you needed—to burn off this restless energy and, hopefully, forget how guilty you felt.

You found Hyunjin on the running track near the outdoor field, surrounded by lush greenery and bursts of flowers the campus meticulously maintained. He looked effortlessly good, of course—baggy clothes hanging just right, dark hair falling over his face like it had been styled by the gods.

You started running side by side, silence settling between you. It was comfortable but heavy, like a bubble that needed popping. The kiss was the unspoken elephant on the track, but Hyunjin, ever observant, didn’t push. Not yet.

The day was crisp, the kind of weather that made you feel invincible. You poured your focus into your pace, and before you knew it, you’d pulled ahead. “Okay, okay—hold up,” Hyunjin called, his voice carrying just enough humor to make you smirk.

You stopped a few strides ahead, spinning on your heel to face him. He sauntered toward you, not even winded, like running was merely a mild inconvenience.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he said, his tone playful but probing.

“There’s nothing to tell,” you countered, already feeling your resolve falter.

“Uh-huh.” He stopped in front of you, his gaze narrowing. “Then why, exactly, did you ask me to kiss you last night?”

Well. There it was. No escaping now.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool as you grabbed the water bottle from your bag. “I was... needy, I guess.”

Hyunjin raised a brow, crossing his arms like he wasn’t buying it. “Needy, huh?”

“Look,” you said, exhaling sharply, “I’m sorry if it made things weird. You’re my best friend, and the last thing I want is for that to get messed up.”

“Relax,” he said, grinning as he ran a hand through his hair. “A kiss isn’t going to scare me off. You’re stuck with me.”

His easy laugh melted some of your tension, but before you could respond, he clapped his hands together with mock seriousness. “Tell you what—first one to the other side of campus owes the winner a banana milk.”

The sudden challenge caught you off guard, and you raised a brow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said, already turning on his heel to start jogging backward. “Unless you’re too scared.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you bolted after him. “You’re so on.”

You lost the run, but of course, Hyunjin still paid for the drink. That summed him up as a friend.

After he dashed off to rehearse with Felix—because apparently, everyone else was rehearsing but you—a thought hit you like a lightbulb flickering to life. Rumors? Easy to spread. But if you wanted to get ahead of them, you had to go straight to the source.

With a mission in mind, you swaggered toward the gym where the basketball team was practicing. It wasn’t exactly classified info—every girl on campus could probably tell you when and where their training sessions were. You zipped your jacket up to your chin like it was some sort of emotional armor, grabbed your water bottle for moral support, and marched down the corridors. The door to the gym was already cracked open, and as you pushed it, everything seemed to slow down in the most dramatic way.

The guys were running drills, their shoes squeaking on the court like a broken record. The noise grated on your nerves, but you weren’t here for the sound; you were here for the spectacle. The stands were dotted with girls, some wrapped up in their player-boyfriend fantasies, while others... Well, who knows what they were thinking. You didn’t care. You had your eyes on the real prize today.

There he was, standing out like a sore thumb. His black and white uniform somehow looked too good on him. Focus, girl. You hid behind the staircase, crouched like a sneaky little spy, waiting for the game to wrap up.

It took nearly ten minutes, but eventually, the whistle blew. You adjusted your posture, trying to act casual, though you were definitely still paying attention to how the sweat trickled down Bangchan's forehead. It brought you war flashbacks. When the players scattered to grab towels and water, you took your cue to appear from behind the bleachers, giving a quick, awkward wave before ducking back again.

Bangchan's eyes scanned the area, and when they landed on you, his brows shot up in surprise.  In the meantime, he did the inevitable: he took off his shirt and used it to get dry. Great. Just great.

"Did you come to watch?" He smirked, that cocky grin of his. "Didn't know you were into basketball."

You rolled your eyes. His ability to flirt in every situation was almost impressive.

"Ha-ha. No." You sucked in a breath, desperately trying to obey your brain's commands. Don't look down. Don’t you dare look down. "Actually, I came to ask for a favor."

He leaned against the wall, eyebrow quirked, looking amused. "Okay...?"

“Right. I want what happened yesterday to stay a secret.”

Bangchan's eyebrow arched higher, an expression of entertained disbelief crossing his face. He crossed his arms, flexing those muscles in a way that made the mission of not looking at them impossible.

“'You think I'm going around saying we fucked?"

You roll your eyes, frustration building up, and clench your hand into a fist. Sure, say it louder, let the world know.

“Isn't that exactly what you do? Brag about your sexual life?”

The boy nodded, puffing out his chest, he shot back. "Ever heard me brag about it?"

“I don't need to hear it from you. The campus does it for you.” It was infuriating how this worked out. Everyone thought Bangchan was the type of guy, praising his victories and glorifying him every time he got between some girl's pants. 

Meanwhile, girls were severely censured for even kissing a guy at a party.

"Right. So you're just going off what people say about me?" His tone was challenging, like he couldn’t care less.

In a long drawn-out sigh, you fidgeted with your hands, intending to put the matter to one side. "Can you just keep this between us? I don't want anyone to know."

"Whatever, it's no big deal," he replied nonchalantly, shrugging. "If it's that important to you."

The words stung more than they should have. It wasn’t just the lack of care, it was the way he made it sound like it didn’t matter. No big deal. It hurt your pride, even if you didn’t mean it to. But that was Bangchan, wasn’t it? Haughty and self-righteous. Yeah, he was great in bed, but his attitude? Utterly shitty.

“Thanks.” You said it briefly, biting down your pride and leaving the scene as fast as you could. Speaking to him seemed like a fool's errand, but you couldn't risk it.

Behind you, Bangchan pursed his lips into a thin line, watching you go. To him, you were hopeless—always on guard, never letting your walls down. He knew he was right, even if it was a thin line. Sure, it was fun to rile you up, but it was maddening that you hated him for things he hadn’t even done.

Getting you to change your mind, though? That was the challenge. But if that’s what it took, he was more than willing to play the long game.

Early next week. Only Tuesday, and auditions loomed just a day away. You’d been agonizing over the perfect solo—one that wouldn’t just get you a role but the role. Monday was a blur of brainstorming with Hyunjin and Seungmin, your trusted theater comrades. Between swapping notes, debating song choices, and plenty of eye rolls, you managed to help each other refine your audition pieces. It was productive. Chaotic, but productive.

Your last hour of the day belonged to the theater, and it was sacred. The stage wasn’t just a place; it was a state of mind. The second the music hit, the world faded. Bills, homework, exes who ghosted you—it all melted away. Up there, you weren’t just alive; you were electric. It wasn’t just a hobby; it was instinct.

Your mom used to say you were born for the stage. She loved telling the story of how, as a kid, you’d belt out The Little Mermaid soundtrack so often the neighbors probably debated filing a noise complaint. Singing “Part of Your World” at the top of your lungs? A daily ritual. But the first time you sang for real—no plastic microphone, no stuffed animal audience—it clicked.

This was more than a passion. It was home.

Since high school, your hunger for the stage—and the spotlight—was insatiable. If there was a club, you wanted in. University was no different. People noticed you, not just for your knack for hitting sharp, glass-shattering high notes, but for your versatility. You could slip from sweet soprano to soulful belter faster than a drama major running late to class. On stage, you were magnetic.

Everyone gathered on stage, and Mrs. Baek appeared a few moments later with her round glasses and wavy hair around her face. Her figure was solid and powerful, as was her voice and knowledge.

But today, something was off. The crease on her forehead gave her away before she said a word. It was like a ripple of unease spread across the stage, and you didn’t miss a beat. You were already bracing for the bad news.

Then, a slim figure in a long skirt and boots strode into the center of the circle, sighing like she’d just carried the weight of the world—and maybe she had. “Okay, kids. Listen up.” Every pair of eyes locked onto her as if she were delivering the prophecy of doom. “We’re postponing the auditions. Indefinitely.”

Her announcement hit like a gut punch, and the stage erupted into chaos. Whispers turned to complaints, and complaints turned to full-blown outrage. Seungmin cast a skeptical glance at Mrs. Baek, then at you and Hyunjin, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

What the hell was going on?

“All right, settle down,” Mrs. Baek said, slipping her glasses off and pinching the bridge of her nose with that practiced mix of authority and exhaustion only she could pull off. “Jun-ho, our sound engineer, has officially dropped out of college. And to make matters worse, the university has decided to cut funding for the theater department in favor of... sports.”

“You're shitting me.” Nahee’s voice sliced through the commotion like a whip. She quickly caught herself, mumbling, “Sorry... but seriously—”

“That’s so unfair!” another voice chimed in from the back, frustration rippling through the group like a shockwave. “Basketball and soccer aren’t the only things this university has going for it.”

“I get it, kids. Believe me, I tried.” Mrs. Baek’s tone softened, but her words were anything but comforting. “I went to the administration, pleaded our case... But unless we can find enough volunteers and funding, I’m afraid auditions are canceled. Indefinitely.”

It felt like a cruel joke. The theater had always been your sanctuary, the one place where you could shed your armor and just be. And now? It was slipping through your fingers.

When Mrs. Baek dismissed the group, some students stormed out in anger, others lingered, trying to process what had just happened. For you, Hyunjin, and Seungmin, the next logical step was the canteen. Food couldn’t fix this, but it was something.

“This is absurd. Now we're all supposed to close our eyes and applaud this nonsense?” Seungmin boomed as the three of you walked to the canteen. It was packed every day, regardless of the time of the day.

At a table outside, you spotted Sohee and Minho. Eunji, Changbin, Felix and Bangchan.

Just when you thought your day couldn't get any worse...

“Tell me about it, I'm so pissed off!” Everyone looked at you, hearing loud and clear about your discontent. All three of you pulled up a chair and you sat down facing Changbin.

“Someone's jumpy.” Sohee leaned across the table. “What's wrong? You three look like shit.”

“It turns out the university cut the theater’s funding in favor of sports.” Your voice was sharp, and your glare shot directly at Bangchan, who was busy texting like the world wasn’t crumbling around him. He looked up, one eyebrow raised in confusion, as if you’d just accused him of single-handedly ruining the arts.

You looked away, rage bubbling in your veins.

“That sucks.” Felix shot back with a supportive smile. “I know how important the theater is to you guys.”

“Everyone’s been working so hard,” Seungmin muttered, sinking into his chair like the weight of the news had finally crushed him. “It’s just... unfair.”

A heavy silence settled over the table, broken only by the sound of Bangchan’s nails tapping on his phone screen. You glanced his way, the sight of him completely disengaged making your blood boil.

“Is there nothing we can do?” Eunji twisted her lips, hopeful.

“Car wash?” Changbin suggested with a mischievous grin. “Classic fundraiser, right?”

“Sure,” you shot back, deadpan, “let’s exploit women for the sake of art.” Your glare could’ve leveled him then and there. Changbin leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, fine. What about food?” Sohee jumped in, glancing at Minho for support. “Muffins, cupcakes, something simple. People love that stuff.”

Hyunjin's face lights up like a light bulb. “Felix makes brownies. Amazing brownies.”

Felix smirked, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I don’t wanna brag, but they’re basically legendary.”

“Alright, then.” Changbin grinned, pointing a finger gun between Felix and you. “You two make the brownies. And we,” he motioned to himself and Bangchan, “sell them.”

You and Bangchan exchange glances for a millisecond.

“I’ve got the perfect idea,”  he says, a wicked smile slipping from his lips.

You raise an eyebrow, laughing. “What? Are you going to sell brownies naked around campus?”

The grin widened, and that’s when you knew you should’ve kept your mouth shut.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

Felix had assured you he could handle everything, but your stubbornness wouldn’t let you sit this one out. If it was for the theater, you were all in. He handed over his famous brownie recipe like it was a national secret.

So, on Thursday, you got hands-on. Literally.

Eunji had come through with the shopping, and soon your dorm looked like a war zone—chocolate smudges on the counters, flour dusting the floor, and batter splattered in places you couldn’t quite explain. You only had a cramped space and a big dream of pulling this off.

You were just pouring the batter into a pan when a sharp knock at the door startled you. Wiping your hands on your skirt, you swung it open, expecting maybe Eunji or Hyunjin. Instead, there stood Bangchan, leaning casually against the door frame like he had nowhere else to be.

“Uh… hello?” You blinked, your brow furrowing. “What are you doing here?”

Bangchan stood back for a second, observing how exceptionally good you looked.

“So… newsflash,” he started, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You might wanna double that recipe.”

Confusion flashed across your eyes. “What do you mean?”

He straightened up, clearly enjoying your puzzled reaction. “I may have the entire basketball team to help out with the sale.”

Your jaw dropped as his words sank in. “You what?”

His grin widened at your disbelief. “You heard me. More hands, more sales. I figured we could use the hype.”

It was insane. But it was also brilliant. A rush of excitement shot through you, lighting up your face. “That’s… that’s fantastic!” you blurted, beaming before instinctively biting your lip to rein in your enthusiasm.

Bangchan tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. “Thought you’d like that.”

“Oh, shit. I'll tell Felix, we're going to need an extra oven.” You walked over to the coffee table, where your phone was.

Before you could dial, Bangchan’s voice cut through your focus. “You shouldn’t go there.” He was still standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression surprisingly earnest. “It’s a mess. Like, biohazard-level chaos.” You lose heart, trying to think of another alternative. “You can use my dorm. If you want.” He quickly adds the last sentence.

Your stomach dropped at the suggestion. The idea of stepping into Bangchan’s dorm felt like walking into enemy territory. Risky. Dangerous. Not worth the potential fallout. “It’s fine,” you said, waving him off. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it.”

But Bangchan leaned against the doorframe, his smirk resurfacing. “You sure? There are a lot of brownies to bake, and I don’t think you’ve got all night.”

As much as you hated to admit it, he wasn’t wrong. Time was slipping through your fingers like sand, and with the entire basketball team now involved, efficiency was critical. “Fine,” you muttered, hating the way the word tasted in your mouth. “But only if you help.”

“You don't have to ask twice.”

It turned out Bangchan’s “help” involved more than just offering his kitchen. He insisted on carrying every utensil, baking sheet, and ingredient across campus himself, as though showing off how capable he was. By the time you arrived at his so-called dorm, you’d pieced together another puzzle about him.

Rich, but not obnoxiously so. Still, his “dorm” was more like a chic little apartment, complete with a full kitchen, two bedrooms, and sleek decor that screamed privilege. The space was annoyingly Bangchan—polished, put together, and just distant enough to be intriguing.

“Cool place.” You muttered after he closed the door behind you. Scanning the room and trying not to sound impressed.

“Thanks.” he gave you a smile. “So, this is the kitchen.” He motioned to a modern setup that looked like it belonged in a Food Network show. Top class stuff. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” you replied, slipping your hands into your pockets. “Not just for the space but… you know, for helping.”

It was obvious that he was making this effort because the theater was important to his friends Seungmin and Hyunjin. Why else would he do all this? Still, you appreciated it.

His lips twitched into a grin. “Wow. Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.” 

You rolled your eyes, biting back the retort bubbling at your tongue. Play nice. He’s helping. 

“Relax,” he added, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just kidding. There’s booze in the fridge, by the way. Help yourself.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you said, sidestepping the offer.

“I’ve gotta sort something out with the coach,” he said, grabbing his phone. “I’ll be back in 20. Think you’ll survive here alone?”

Honestly, being in his apartment without him sounded like the best possible scenario. You gave a small nod. “Yeah, no worries.”

With that, he left, and the door clicked shut behind him. You exhaled, a long breath that carried the weight of the past few days. Now you were in enemy territory, surrounded by his world, and somehow, that felt far more personal than it should.

How had this become your life? Baking brownies in Bangchan’s kitchen? It was almost as absurd as sleeping with him—a mistake you’d promised yourself you’d never make. But here you were, crossing one forbidden line after another.

You weren’t exactly a disaster in the kitchen, but you weren’t a pro either. Somehow, though, in thirty minutes flat, four trays of brownies were baking away in Bangchan’s fancy oven. The rest of the kitchen, however, looked like a war zone. Eggshells piled in the sink. Flour scattered across the floor. Chocolate batter smeared on your shirt. Your skirt? A masterpiece of handprints from raw dough. But hey, it was all for the sake of art—and funding.

While you whisked and poured, you couldn’t resist turning on your favorite song, What Is This Feeling from Wicked. Singing along word for word, you hit every high note with a grin. That song had landed you the role of Glinda in high school, and the nostalgia hit you square in the chest. Those were good times. Simpler times.

The chorus was still ringing in your ears as you crouched to scrub a stubborn chocolate stain on the floor. That’s when the door swung open, and Bangchan walked in, freezing mid-step as he surveyed the chaos.

“Holy shit. Are you all right?” he asked, his tone somewhere between amusement and genuine concern.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest as you scrambled to turn off the music. In your rush, your phone slipped from your flour-dusted hands and landed on the counter with a soft thud. You straightened, cheeks flushing. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, brushing your hands on your already-ruined skirt. “Sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up, I promise.”

He looked around, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. His eyes flicked from the chaotic kitchen to you, taking in the state of your clothes. “You’ve got something… there,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the chocolate smear on your shoulder.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze. “As soon as I’m done here, I’ll head back to the dorm and clean this up.”

Bangchan tilted his head, clearly unimpressed with your plan. “I can lend you a shirt. Might make you feel more comfortable.”

“No, no. I’m fine,” you said, waving him off. “But thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. Then, without hesitation, he reached behind his neck and yanked off the black shirt he was wearing, leaving him in nothing but his jeans and a devilish grin. “Here,” he said, holding the shirt out to you like it was the most casual thing in the world.

You blinked, completely caught off guard. “You know you could’ve just grabbed another shirt, right? Like, one you’re not currently wearing?”

He leaned in slightly, the grin widening in a way that made your stomach flip. “And where’s the fun in that?”

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at him, equal parts annoyed and flustered. His shirt hung in the air between you, a silent dare. Finally, you snatched it from his hand, muttering, “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told,” he replied, unbothered, and strolled over to the counter like he hadn’t just walked into the kitchen half-dressed.

After a few minutes, you walked back into the kitchen, now wearing Bangchan’s shirt. It hung a little loose on you, the soft fabric brushing against your skin and carrying a mix of fresh laundry and whatever cologne he used. Not that you noticed. Much.

Bangchan was at the sink, scrubbing a mixing bowl. His back was to you at first, but when he turned around, his gaze lingered a second too long before he coughed and looked back down. “Did you know,” he started, shaking his head with a teasing grin, “that you’re officially the world’s clumsiest cook? There’s brownie batter... under the sink.”

You glanced at the cabinet beneath the counter, then back at him. “Hey, I said I’d clean up,” you defended, marching into the kitchen with your head held high. “And for the record, I never claimed to be a good cook. I’m just trying to help.”

Bangchan barked out a laugh, drying his hands on a towel. “Help? No fucking way. You’re a disaster, love.”

You froze, raising an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?” You crossed your arms, the oversized sleeves of his shirt only slightly undermining your indignation. “I didn’t see you stepping up to bake anything.. Let’s see you handle a whisk without breaking something.”

He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, clearly enjoying himself. “Trust me, I’d still be better than whatever chaos you’ve got going on here.”

Your lips quirked into a slow smirk, and you reached for the bag of flour on the counter. “Oh yeah? Well, let’s see you handle this.” Before he could react, you scooped a handful of flour and tossed it right at him, the fine powder exploding across his chest like a smoke bomb.

Bangchan froze for a second, blinking down at the mess. Then, his lips curved into a wicked grin that should have been your warning. “Oh, it’s on now.”

With your hands on your lip, you realized that you had fucked up. “I'm sorry, I...”

Too late. In the blink of an eye, Bangchan scooped up the sugar and poured it all over your hair. You stared, half-shocked, half-impressed by his audacity. You parted your lips to fire back, but before a word could escape, the sound of his laughter erupted from deep in his chest.

“Really? Is this how it’s gonna go?” You grabbed the cocoa powder with a grin. Oh, he wanted a war? You were so ready. “Bring it on,” you shot back, face lighting up with mischief. 

You were almost halfway to smearing him with chocolate when his hand shot out and stopped yours midair. The cocoa slipped through your fingers, and just like that, your plan hit the ground.

Then, you collided—chest to chest. Bangchan wasn’t laughing anymore, and you could feel the shift in the air, the heat between you two now undeniable. His lips curled into that damn smirk, the one that told you everything. Your heart was racing, but the thought of pulling away didn’t even cross your mind. The only question now was who was going to make the first move.

A silent battle passed between you two. His gaze locked onto yours, sensing the shift in your expression—less defiant, more... willing. And just like that, the tension morphed into something else, something undeniable.

Without hesitation, you leaned in, your lips brushing his. Bangchan’s breath hitched, a soft grunt escaping him at the sudden contact. Your hands, still coated with the remnants of your baking disaster, slid over his broad shoulders. You were a mess, sugar and flour everywhere, but somehow, it made everything feel a little more real. And Bangchan? He didn’t seem to mind one bit.

All he seemed to care about was having your lips on his. And fuck, you could feel how much he wanted it.

Bangchan grabbed your ass possessively, squeezing it and making a raspy moan escape your lips. You pushed him against the wall, without detaching your lips, savoring how the softness of his lips felt like cotton candy.

When you finally broke away, your chests heaving, your fingers still pressed into his skin, you met his gaze. His chest rose and fell beneath your touch, and you could feel the pull between you intensify again, magnetic.

“I should probably clean up this mess.” your voice broke the tension, but the realization hit harder than it should’ve. Bangchan was clearly fed up with your habit of diving in and then ghosting the consequences. 

“Don’t you dare.” his voice was low, the words like a command you weren’t about to ignore. His eyes locked with yours—intense. “You want this.” his lips brushed against yours, a tease that made your heart leap, while his words hung heavy in the air. “I know you do.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears, drowning out everything but him.

“Bangchan.” You whispered, barely able to breathe. The heat from his hardness spread like wildfire, and your body seemed to betray you. “We can’t.” you licked your lips—stupid, because he was already there, sealing your protest with a sloppy kiss, stealing that last ounce of restraint.

You were losing it. Why did he have to be so... goddamn good at this?

“Oh yeah?” he pulled away, just enough to make you regret the distance. “Tell me one good reason. Just one.”

You snorted, doing everything you could to hold it together, but the pull between you was undeniable. “Please.”

He tilted his head, lips twitching like he wanted to argue, but instead he closed his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath. “Fine,” he grumbled, walking away, but the air between you two still crackled.

The rest of the kitchen cleanup was like some strange form of punishment. You moved in sync, two people acting like they hadn’t just burned down every ounce of decorum in the room. The silence was deafening, the kind of awkward that made you wish you could pull the floor open and swallow you whole. But instead, you just scrubbed harder, hoping it’d drown out the thundering thoughts in your head.

He pulled away, no jokes, no teasing—just silence. It was like a switch had flipped, and the tension that had once sparked between you now lay dormant, suffocating. You didn't know if you hated the quiet or if you hated yourself more for letting things go as far as they had.

When everything was finally done, he still helped you carry your things to the dorm, his touch lingering just a little too long as he adjusted the bag over your shoulder. You were too busy battling the whirlwind of your own thoughts, replaying every moment, every look, and cursing both him and yourself for what you’d just crossed into.

You hated how easy it had been. How natural. And you hated even more that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to regret it—at least, not yet.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik

[1nthedarknessofthenight]

﴾ smooth operator

pairing: bangchan x f!reader

genre: one-shot, office au, smut

word count: 7,1K

warnings: dom!bangchan and sub!reader ⋆ exhibitionism!⋆ choking! ⋆ ass!slapping⋆ hair!pulling ⋆ marking! ⋆ cum!eating ⋆ possessiveness ⋆ oral (f.receiving) ⋆ angry!sex⋆ unprotected!sex ⋆ creampie!

summary: you always get what you want, with a single look, a wave of your hand, dripping with confidence that made him tremble the first time you two met, he watched you quietly from afar, admiring the perfection that you are, but it soon turned into obsession and oh, how he hated how much you got into his head…

request by @khandzilla

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Many things had happened to Chris since he moved, away from all of his past and finally reaching for the future. He discovered many different things that he had never thought about before, trying every new thing and place the city of Los Angels had to offer. They shone at him with brightness, called out to him, even though the tiring and sometimes boring main reason he had taken this step slowed down his new experiences. The best thing was that he had time — plenty of time for himself to grow and learn. The job that gave him this opportunity was honest with him — it will be hard to maintain his position, but all of the hard work paid off in the end. However, he thought that doing all those business meetings, marketing and all the paperwork would be the hardest part…definitely not maintaining his composure.

Chris has done a lot of new things since his first day at work, met new people and made contacts. He could still remember how nervous he was on the first day, but everyone surprised him by being so kind and it was almost unusual at such a hectic workplace. Every day was different for him, if he doesn’t count those awfully long papers and files he had to fill out every day. It was, because of the people that he now can call friends. Minho, despite his first impression of him told him that he wasn’t very friendly, immediately took him under his wing. He showed him everything, what to do and what not do and even introduced him to his other colleagues. Seungmin, a brunette, quite similar to him in a sense that he always made fun of his age just like Minho, even if he wasn’t that much older than them and then Chris soon found himself in a pile of many different faces.

But one thing remained the same and that was you. The first time he saw — felt your presence was when he was a week into his new job. You screamed, your aura cutting through the office as you quickly walked pass him. You were so quick in your heels that he didn’t even have a chance to get a full look at you. Though someone was quick enough to catch his stare — Minho, who was sitting across of him spoke your name and that made the others glance at him. It was like the sound of your name was a secret code, because everyone suddenly turned their heads to catch just a glimpse of your distancing figure. He felt his ears turn red at being caught, but soon after the others became aware of your presence, he realized that he wasn’t the only one simply astonished by you.

He learned from the looks of his colleagues and then awfully interesting gossip that you rarely left your office. Seeing you walk passed them always broke into something — you were the main topic of gossip. Everyone seemed to know everything about you, yet you didn’t talked to anyone if it wasn’t necessary. You were always quick, never leaving your sanctuary if it weren’t for a meeting or a coffee. Aubrey, a dark haired woman which seemed to be the leader of your small ‘fan club’ said that it was like you were almost disgusted by them as if you felt, you were above them. Soon his female colleagues’ chatting turned bitter as they all turned to him, while Minho and Seungmin silently listened. Chris knew that it wasn’t right to talk about someone — about what they were wearing, how they were behaving in a such place and when you not know them, but he kept his mouth shut to get every information.

Chris doesn’t know if it was because he literally became awestruck by your presence from the moment he saw you, but he soon started to see more of you. You seemed to be always in some a corner, alone, but he always found you. You always sat at the corner of the room next to a window, when it was lunchtime. You always made your coffee with just a splash of milk and just a small pump of vanilla. You seemingly should blend into the background as you were always in dark clothes, but your whole aura radiating from you couldn’t make you invisible.

He remembered the one time, when he was sitting behind his desk, looking at the back of your head, tracing your figure clad in loose trousers and blouse, just waiting for you to turn around. Maybe to notice him, maybe to let him finally see your face behind your blowout hair. He should have concentrated on his work or maybe on the voice of his female colleague talking his ear and that really started to cut through his fixation. He didn’t even see your face and it was getting to him. His coworkers voice was awfully low and sweet and he knew she was trying to get his attention, but it was no use.

He watched your pretty manicured fingers go to your cup of coffee, metal reflecting in the light as you never used those cheep, plastic cups like everyone else — well, you definitely weren’t like anyone he had ever met before. You turned just slightly to the side, lips puckering, when you glanced into the hallway leading to your office, finger making a come here motion. He could tell you were frustrated, your frown that he didn’t see much of deepening, when Minho suddenly emerged from the hallway.

Chris straightened his back and at that the annoying sound of his colleague became quiet. He ignored it, noting Minho’s small twitch and fidgeting, when you push a pile of papers into his direction. He couldn’t hear anything over the noises of mouses and keyboards clicking, but he could feel the shift in the air. His friend had a look of small fright, when you started to move your lips slowly, but words seemingly laced with a hard tone. He at that wondered how much strict you you actually were, maybe some of the gossip turned into a fact. Minho shook his head wildly after you were done speaking, not even trying to cut into your speech like he does with everyone. You tilted your head at his words, letting the papers be pushed back to you. His friend then pointed right into his direction, like a child trying to escape his punishment and you instantly turned to look at him.

His mouth opened, gaped at your features — soft, yet sharp with the look you gave him under your glasses. Chris felt his heart stop when you turned fully into his direction, before marching through the room right to his desk. From the corner of his eye he could see everyone turning their heads, hear the sudden stop of the even sounds of keyboards, but he couldn’t do anything else, but look at you. Your body — so nice, tight and soft in the right places, eyes trailing over your blouse that clinged to your breast, your lips painted deeper brown, your eyeshadow sharpening your stare.

The sound of your shoes made his heart beat faster with each stomp, before they scraped on the floor, when you stopped right before his desk. “Chris, is it?” Your glare didn’t match your slow and low tone, not even your comfortable stance, but from the looks of his colleagues, he could tell that you actually were not pleased at all. Why, he didn’t know yet at that moment, still to occupied by looking your over and also trying to keep his cool, because the way you said his name was…arousing.

Chris just knew he looked stupid, when his eyes went back and forth between his coworkers and you, it was like he completely forgot his own name. “Yes…” He thinks he has never felt like this since a teacher caught him misbehaving in middle school.

The way you were waiting for him, giving him time to anwer just made him realize how patient you are, even if you looked quite irritated. You then put those papers on his desk, slap! echoing through the room. “Please, take another look at those papers.” You say, voice still collected.

He did what you ask, even if it was quite hard to tear his gaze away from you, but at least he had your perfume filling up his nose. His eyes fell to the file with papers, lips falling even more apart as he scanned through them. They were his, he did them yesterday just an hour before he ended his day and just by a single look he could tell that there was something not right. “Oh!” His fingers stopped at a particular spot, your shadow heavy on his shoulders.

“Yes, correct it–“ He looked up at you at that, already distancing yourself as you were almost shaking to get back to your office. “Give it back to me later, you have time till three.”

With only that you walked away, not letting him ask questions, leaving him to figure out his mistakes himself. The only thing you left was your lingering presence that made few people, other than his friends look at him and he wanted to groan out loud. ‘What a way to make nice, first impression’, he thought to himself. He literally made a fool of himself. The first words, the first thing he did to get your attention was his idiocy. The hand that landed on his shoulder was supposed to be calming, but Seungmin only made him feel more humiliated. It also didn’t help that the others immediately started to get to the talk and he didn’t hear anything other than their awful gossip.

“Did you see that? Poor you, Channie-“

“How can she talk to us like that?”

“Did you see her clothes? She’s literally screaming for attention!”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, just do what she wants, so she can get off your back–“

Chris was disgusted. You weren’t bitchy or moody, you were collected and he knew just what your position requires. He couldn’t help, but feel intimidated — it was a natural response to you. How could they talk to you like that? Making gossip and hate out of anything you do, Chris is glad for his two friends at the moment as they shut down their conversation. One thing is being humiliated by making a mistake infornt of a woman like you and then others just adding up to it. It was his fault, you only told him to fix it, nothing more. There was no need for them to talk about you so harshly.

Chris returned the papers just in time that day, but he was not quick enough to catch up with you as your office was already closed. It was also the first time he was in that part of the building, only passing by it to get to the elevators. He stared for a moment at your name and your title at the milky, glass door and he probably stood there for a quite while as your assistant walked up to him. He can’t lie that he was disappointed by your assistant telling him to just give those papers to him as you were at a meeting.

Though after that he got just a few more occurrences with you. The most memorable one was when you joined him at the coffee machine. He can still remember your pencil skirt and matching suit jacket, red lips, black stockings with a line going down the back of your legs and mostly your pretty glasses framing your face as you looked for your vanilla sirup. He had to fight the argue to a smirk, when he without a word lean over your cup to pump the hidden sirup in his hands into your coffee. You almost seemed surprised by his presence, like you didn’t even know he was right next you or maybe it was simply because of his sudden deep eye contact. He didn’t even blink, while looking at you, not even when you said a small sweet ‘thank you’. That simple moment grew into something big, when you leaned over him to to grab a plastic cup to put it in the coffee machine, before pressing his preferred choice of drink. It wasn’t sweet anymore after that, it was more nerveracking, because the fact you knew told him everything — you were watching too and he started to like you more and more, before it started to change.

Soon he started to hate you. He hated how you were in the every corner of his mind. He was thinking about you since the first day he saw you — at work, even home, mainly late at night in the privacy of his bedroom. He hated how you saw him firstly like everyone else, how he felt like everyone else — how he was firstly scared of you. Even if he talked to you briefly, got to know your small habits — how you always clicked your nails together, how you hold the side of your glasses with your index finger, your chewing at the inside of your lips, your small minimal pull at your eyebrows when someone talked to you. The conversation were always about work, you never talked outside of it and he soon realized how much you are into your work. You are a total workaholic or maybe you just didn’t like someone sticking their nose into your business.

But it felt like it was his too, because how possibly can you be able to mess him up like this? You weren’t even doing anything to rile him up and he must wonder if those subtle looks, gestures where really nothing or if you were just playing with him. He wanted to figure you out and it is driving him insane, because he feels like he is turning into one of them…though they certainly aren’t thinking of putting you into your place — right under him or maybe he would even let you be on top of him, just like you were used to.

Chris has to groan into his hands, back muscles screaming at the pressure they were put through the whole day. He really does sometimes breathe in relief when he goes to work out, because sitting hours behind a desk feels like a form of torture. It’s so quiet — it’s so weird not hearing even a whisper. The office would look eery, if it weren’t for the city lights shinning through the glass windows. He swears, he can even hear cars from the silence in the room. The lamp at his desk is burning his eyes, glancing for the last time over his work and he wants to scream in delight as he finally could pack his things up and go home.

Today was unusually stressful for him, so much of everything that he had no choice, but to stay late. He could have done it on Monday, but the thought of not finishing something wouldn’t make his weekend better, not to mention how overly hectic it would be if he would leave it to Monday. From the sitting and the turned down air conditioning his skin glisten in the thin layer of sweat, pulling just slightly at his white shirt to unstick it from his stomach. He didn’t even care about how he basically throw his things into his bag, too lazy to actually take time and put everything where it belongs.

The click of his polished shoes is the only sound in the building as he walks down the hallway, trying to untie the nots in his upper back. Though silence should be thing quite familiar to him in sense as he walks pass your office, only for his own body to stop in its tracks. A frown falls on upon his face, looking down at the carpet under his feet. Light is coming from behind your door, the warm orange hue cutting through the moonlight floor. Chris firstly thought that you might just accidentally let your lamp on, but that wouldn’t make any sense — he is the only one here…

Curiosity gets the best of him, not even thinking twice and wrapping his hand around the door handle. In a sense he feels like he is doing something he shouldn’t as the door creaks open, letting him barely have a look in the room and sure enough he at that hears sound of a keyboard’s clicking. His heart beats s little faster, thinking of way too many different things that could be happening behind the door and he literally haven’t open it yet. To his surprise it was a way simpler answer — way more exciting…

You — you were here with him, at this late hour at a place you both know so well. He knew, after some small and innocent spying that you clocked out just an hour before him as you always get here in the early hours of morning — so seeing you behind your desk with a laptop illuminating your face was a surprise. “What are you doing here?” And you were definitely surprised too.

You jump in your seat at the unexpected voice, eyes widening just slightly as you snap your head into the direction of the door. He can see the genuine expression of surprise for a split second, before it all falls back to your natural, cold one. “I could ask you the same thing.” You wit back, taking a one, long look at him from your desk — his misbehaved hair, opened shirt that clinged to his toned body, how he leaned casually on the doorway, before you turn back to your work.

Chris tilts his head at you, listening to your nails grazing over the keyboard. “It’s almost one a.m–“ He, just like you doesn’t answer your question as it wasn’t that much important at the moment, not when you were looking like that — you always looked put together, not single wrinkle on your clothes or a smudge in your make up, but he can see the small effects of your equally hard day on you.

Your glasses that were usually on the low point of your nose sit in the small pocket on your blouse, his eyes naturally drifting to the exposed skin of your breasts. Your outfits were always modest, yet so provocative. Your lipstick appeared lighter than before, but he knew it was dark red as he saw you pass by his desk today. So quick, but not quick enough to not be caught by his eyes. His knuckles turn white at the sight of your open top, body swaying, ready to take a step close just to try and see what you might ne hiding underneath. Chris doesn’t even care about how unprofessional he is being, the only thing he cares about is seeing if you were thinking the same thing — well, you certainly weren’t telling him to leave.

“I know.” You say, not even looking at him, seemingly very into the piece of paper in front of you and he can see your fingers nibbling at its edge.

“Aren’t you tired?” He says, genuinely wondering.

“No.”

“Can I get you a coffee?” Chris fires question after question, just to hear your sultry voice, frustrated from the lack of attention.

You don’t answer this time to his displeasure, only holding up your cup to let him see there was no need for him. But he needs it — you, how can he not grab this opportunity to finally talk to you, fully get drunk off your presence alone. You don’t do anything to indicate that he is not invited, so he slowly makes his way up to you. His eyes not even for a second leave you, grasping greedily at every new angle he gets. You look frustrated — the twitch in your eyebrows is prominent and he wants nothing more than to turn it into something way different.

You are aware of his looming body behind you and you know about that hand gripping the back of your chair, though you do nothing against it. Your fingers no longer move on the keyboard, the pen in your hand hovering over the paper before you. You just stare at it, realizing you might be getting distracted. “That’s tomorrow’s work.” His breath hits the back of your head, making you fight back goosebumps.

“Yes, that’s why I’m doing it…”

You remark was supposed to be witty, but the small strain in your voice won over. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself…Y/N.” Chris sighs out your name, hand gripping tightly the back of your chair, doing anything in his power not to just turn you around, so you can see everything what you did and are still doing to him.

He can hear you click your tongue, head just barely turning his way. “I didn’t know we are casual like that…Christopher.” You say.

His eyes narrowed from your words and tone. Is this really not casual? The thick tension in the room, the shared looks…Chris suddenly becomes angered, mostly frustrated from your behavior. His nose flares to exhale a deep sigh, before taking in the sweet smell of your perfume. By that action his body naturally needed to get closer to you to get a real and good whiff of your scent. He hovers over you, caging you in — and was that a small gasp and shake as a reaction to his bold move? “You are so tense…” He can’t fight the satisfied smile from your reaction. Even if it would be unseen by others, his fixation on you literally gave him the power to crack open every single small twitch in you, reading you like a book. “Do you need me to take it away?” He whispers, hot breath hitting you.

There’s a pause, your lips falling apart. “What are applying exactly?” You are incredibly still and collected, even if he is able to see under your thick shell.

He shrugged at your question, smile not leaving his lips and he knows you can hear it in his next words. “Just a massage…” He says so innocently.

He can’t see the obvious frown on your face. “Get on with it then.” You say, your voice uncharacteristically quiet, though your tone sharp. The small laugh in his chest couldn’t be contained by your reaction. His hands loosen around the back of your chair, face falling as he lifts his finger to just barely push your hair away from your neck.

The light scratch of his nails leaves traces of fire, tickling and making a rush of a new emotion go through your whole body. You are quiet, staring at the closed doors to your office, while you let the man behind you touch you. Chris is so slow with his every move, it’s like he is doing it on purpose — maybe to see a glimpse of frustration on your face, but who are you to give him such pleasure? His hands are big, fingers long and when he puts them on your shoulders they almost dip under your slightly open blouse.

You both at that realize the difference between your body temperatures — his hands were hot and they came with even more burning, when he pressed into your shoulders, your body was cold and you realize that it might be because you haven’t felt this much burning for anyone before. He — he has to know by the way your body is so tense under his hands that it’s been a quite long time since you last felt the touch of another. Your work, your passion and need for perfection suddenly felt like a immense weight on your shoulders that he messaged all away with just few squeezes. However your pride didn’t shift…you are not sure if you want to give him the satisfaction and let him see the true effect he has on you. Or do you? One thing that you truly want is to see him tremble, just like on the day you two first met — so flustered, almost scared just by your existence.

Chris breathe so heavily, you for sure have to feel his silent sighs on your skin. The material of your blouse is so thin, that he scrunches it up between his fingers at thought of tracing his fingers across your naked skin. His thumb makes circles on the strap of your bra, the other already falling off your shoulder and he eyes it with a heated glare. “Nice?” He has to wonder, because you didn’t even breathe throughout his moves. He hates, how he seeks your approval.

Heat rushes to his chest, when you let out a quiet, yet soft and long hum of pleasure. The sound makes him press down onto you just a little harder and Chris almost loses his mind right there, when you only sigh again. “Yeah–“ His eyes roll back into his head at your voice, his hips embarrassingly pressing onto the back of your hair. He sighs deeply, heart jumping when you tilt your head to look up at him. “Maybe a little lower?” Your voice is breathless, sweet like honey, but your piercing eyes surely don’t match it. The top of your head is brushing his stomach, your moves, making you push out your chest and his eyes follow immediately your movements and words. His body is stiff other than his hands that keep squeezing at you and they eagerly go lower by your request, pressing down onto your collarbones. “Lower…,yeah — right there.”

Your words dangerously end in what sounded like a moan and Chris licks his lips at the sight of the black lace peaking out of your shirt. “You like that?” His fingers dip into the middle of your breasts, watching your head roll back onto your shoulder, sighing with you at his touch. “Or do you want me to go a little lower?”

The smirk on his lips is obvious and you can’t help, but do the same, enjoying the way his hands pinch at the softness of your breasts, before suddenly pushing yourself from the chair. Your move is so unexpected and quick that he stumbles, the smile of satisfaction falling from his face, but you don’t see the change of expression. “I fear, I have to go now, Mr. Bahng.” Again with your sweet voice that really started to taste bitter as he watches you move across your desk — he had enough.

A hand wraps around your wrist tightly. “No, you are fucking not.” He says, through gritted teeth and you remark gets stuck in the back of your throat, when he roughly turns you around, pinning you to the table and you only become more short of breath, when his hand falls on your neck, fingers pressing ever so slightly into your pulse.

You can’t breathe properly, just like him, staring into each other eyes and you finally see how much darker they have become. You broke him — you and your tactics. He is sick of your playing, not caring about how so suddenly and so sharply he snapped at you, but the look on your face…it seems like you are enjoying this. His fingers wrapped around your dianty neck, your upper half basically exposed to his hungry eyes and then his gaze fall on your lips, smudged in a hue of red — he just had to take a bite.

His lips smash to yours and even in his delirious state, he saw how you leaned into his hold — you wanted this too, him. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, teeth, till he tastes the bitter taste of coffee and the sweetness you naturally had in you. It is so much and so good, but you still fight lightly to gain dominance against the kiss, though you can’t keep up, something possessed him at that moment and with the first taste of your lips, he couldn’t stop.

Your noses brush against each other, breathing heavily, not even separating for a split second, till you of course had to say something. “I think this is highly unprofessional–“ You say your every word between each kiss, his fingers pressing a little harder around your neck at your statement.

Chris pulls away from you, eyes glaring down at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Do I look like I fucking care?” His tone sends shivers down your spine, him not seeing it, because he leaned over your body to press his lips next your ear. “You are insufferable, I fucking hate you.” His hot breath hits your ears, feeling his tongue graze your earlobe.

A wide smile finds your lips, breathing out heavily. “We both know, that you don’t hate me.” You shake your head lightly at him and it makes him look back at you, his hard stare not matching your overly sweet smile.

“I’m gonna fuck you like I do.”

For the first time your confidence trembles, smile falling a little at the deep rasp in his voice and now he is the one finding some amusement about this situation. You always act so tough…it’s funny to him that you try his patience even now — now when he has you under him, now when his hand is around your neck, now when his other hand travels up your thigh to your center. The heat radiating from you tells him everything he needs to know. His hand finds the sliver of naked skin, when his fingers graze your garter belt, for a moment enjoying the softness of your inner thighs. His eyes however don’t leave your face as your eyes close slightly, silently sighing at his gentleness, before his next move makes you gasp sharply.

His whole hand cups your covered pussy, your juices smearing all over him and by your reaction your leg just barely grazes his crotch, moaning lightly at the feeling. “What got you so wet, huh?” Your lips are sealed for a moment, while his ring and middle finger finds your clit, pressing down on it, yet not moving. “No smart remark? Really is it that easy?”

“Are you going to fuck me or you just not gonna finish your job like always?” You hiss at him, hips pushing against his fingers to find more friction, but to your displeasure, his touch leaves you completely, removing his hand from your skirt and even the hand on your neck leaves you.

Your heart skips a beat for a second, not from fright, but from excitement, ready to see more of this new side of him. Chris isn’t moved by your words, too occupied by pressing his lips to your neck. He licks over your skin, tasting your perfume, before he traps the thin skin of your neck between his teeth. The sharpness is painful for a second, before it melts into pleasure as he sucks and slurps at you. The raw moan you give him makes him groan in union, moving his mouth to the spot under your ear, sucking just as harshly, before he moves to the other side of your neck, your collarbone, the soft skin of your upper breast…He drools over you, bites down on you and he feels a sense of possessiveness grow in him as he finally pulls away to take a good look at your current state.

Your mouth is open, lips glistening from your own spit, eyes following the trail of bites and splotches he left on you and you now by the subtle burn, that he even felt an small imprint of his fingers on your neck. His thumb presses down on one particular spot — right over your heart. “So pretty, look at you, covered in me…” Chris is biting on his lip, chewing, like reminiscing, before meeting your half lidded eyes.

“You…” You are so quiet, lost for words and he feels his cock jump at your drunken state.

“You…” He repeats, but his version helds a almost sick longing. He shakes his head, almost like you would, before straightening his back to completely surround you with his whole body. “Bend over.” Chris’s sudden dominance makes you shaky, he can see the effect by your wildly raising chest and even though you still have some grip on your composure, he feels sense of pride seeing you like this. All because of him — you turn around slowly, too slowly for him, that he had to push you against your desk, palm of his hand on your lower back.

He moves your hair away from your shoulder, mouthing at your already marked up neck, while his hands roam wildly all over your body. They drift under your blouse, his moves so rough that couple of the buttons pop open letting him fondle your tits freely. You let yourself go a little, moaning at his touches. He is everywhere — touching you as if it would be the last time he’d ever have you like this. “I hate you–“ He repeats the words between each suck, you hissing at his teeth piercing your skin a little too deeply.

Chris hums, hips grinding against your ass and you both gasp at the sensation. You can’t help it — maybe it’s because you just enjoy being like this or you want him to finally break. You don’t even know what he might do to you, but that only excites you more. “Ah — is this all because of me?” You coo at him, hand pushing his head away from your neck to look at him. The expression you get from him is worth it, rolling your hips against his.

A hiss of pain leaves you, when his hand finds your hair, tugging your head back. “Every fucking day — every single fucking day…you enjoy making people feel like they are under you, like you are some kind of higher power.” The poison in his voice is light more than anything, it’s just pure lust, but it does make you stop fidgeting. “But who are you outside of this building? Huh, Y/N?” You don’t respond, eyes widening, mouth opening and you feel small pool of drool gathering in the corner of your mouth. When his hand finds your skirt again, scrunching the material and pushing it up your hips, you just realize how much you were pressing your thighs together to make the ache in your cunt go away. “I think you are just a woman, who never let anyone put her in her place.” Chris breathes out a laugh at your face, while he finally release himself from his pants and underwear. The sound you let out next send sparks straight to his cock, his tip at the seem of your underwear. Finally he has your full attention, eyes unmoving from his face and when his fingers push your underwear to the side he has to shiver from how much you are dripping all over him, because of him. His hand comes to your jaw, with the other leveling his cock to your entrance. “You are controlling — and even if you are fantastic in what you do, don’t you think you also need some kind of teaching?”

Your mind is fuzzy, staring at him as he pushes his hips into you and the sheer size of his mushroom tip makes your legs shake. Your body, face, wet and dripping cunt tells him everything to know not to stop his moves. “Fuck–“ The curse flies out of your mouth, when he bottoms out, kissing your cervix and the foreign word leaving your lips makes him groan. You hug him so well, tight, letting him know just how much you needed this. He doesn’t want to be gentle, not after all of your theatrics and teasing — not with the already fucked out look on your face.

The drag of his cock is delicious, filthy and you both can hear the sounds of your juices smearing across the both of you. Your knuckles turn white, gripping tightly at the edge of your desk with the first thrust of his hips. It makes you only arch more for him, air getting knocked out of you, when he starts to fuck into you so roughly, you only could fall forward and let him do whatever he wants. Chris’s lips are parted, tongue swiping across his teeth, eyes going to the sight of your pussy swallowing him whole. In the night lights he can see your glistening, creamy wetness on his cock, his hand pinching at your ass, mesmerized by you.

The way your hips try so desperately to match his erratic rhythm makes his chest tighten. “Yeah…yeah—“ He doesn’t know what to say for a moment as he meets your eye, when look back at him. He sees the small tears of pleasure in your gaze and something about the way you send him a small smile his way, makes him push you against his chest. “So good…so pretty.” You hum lowly at his words, looking at his face, breathing shakily from his thrusts. “It would be a pity to have you all to myself like this.”

Your eyebrows furrow, head tilting in confusion, but your face forms into shock, when he suddenly lifts you off your feet. Chris is swift, not letting you even think about, what he might do with you — no he shows you instead. He turns you both around, stumbling a little, before pushing you against the cold window of your office. “Chris–“ A gasp of his name leaves you, eyes wide and staring at the scenery under you, going over the high buildings next you and each light up window.

“Oh, know it’s Chris?” He knows the risk of someone seeing you like this, even if the possibility of someone seeing you so high up and quite far away is small, it still makes a rush of excitement go over you. Your cunt tightens around him and he finds it hard to maintain his sanity, with you gripping his so tightly.

Your breath fogs up the window, when he starts to move again, thighs press together and making him feel even bigger than he already is. You don’t think anyone ever handled you like this before — hand bruising on your hip, the other holding you against the window, fucking you so roughly and just like he said — putting you in your place. Your ears ring, already lost from the feeling of his cock ramming into you, each pulsing vein making your insides shake. “Chris…” He groans back at the sound of his name, head landing on the window next to yours to catch your gaze.

The coldness from the window on your chest and the warmness from his touch is all too much for you to handle. He can tell by the look in your eyes, closing each second that he bottoms out. “You feel so good–“ Chris finishes his words with a harsh smack on your asscheek and you only push against him more, so he only does it again. “You like that?” You can already feel the skin of your ass turning red and the burn left behind is way too good for you to not nod at his question.

“I c-can’t—“ You gasp, whimper, pushing your forehead against the window, but he doesn’t let you hide.

His hand finds your neck again, pulling you up to make you look back at him, hard chest on pressed on your back. “You can, baby, I know you can.” Chris is enjoying the way you turned so small, seeing finally the girl that always needed to do good. “Give it to me — cum for me.” You cry out at his words, lower tummy rumbling at his words, staring through blurry sight at the crazed look on his face.

You lean to kiss him, more tongue than lips, moaning and gasping into his mouth. He tightens the hand on your neck, cutting the air in your throat. Your ears ring, but you can still hear the smack of his hips and filthy words coming from his lips. You couldn’t hold it no more, the last bits of your pride-self thrown out of the window you were pressed against as he finds the one, squishy, soft spot inside you. Chris is too good at analyzing you now, because his thrusts only become more sharper, shorter and harsher, the tip of his cock brushing against the spot every time he bottoms out, till your eyes roll back inside your head.

Your orgasm make your whole body shake, the only thing not letting you slide down the now sleek window is his strong hold. The faces and noises you make are way better than his imagination. Your walls spasm around him, sucking him in, making his hips shutter, pushing only harder into you. He pulls you so close to his body that you feel his heart beating against your back, his hips stilling, thrusting up into you roughly and it almost makes you squeal. The deep growl he lets out, makes his chest rumble, nose digging into your hair as his cock twitches. You can feel him filling you to the brim, your mixed juices already making a creamy ring around the base of his cock. It’s so hot, filthy, marking you in the most intimate way possible, but the blissful fullness is ripped away from you, when he pulls out his still hard cock from your puffy pussy.

You want to turn around, for the second time confused and mostly shocked by his actions, because you see him from the corner of your eye falling down to kneel behind you. The hands on your hips don’t let you move an inch, letting him take a look of your spend cunt, thumbs pulling at your lips to get a closer look at your gaping hole. You would feel embarrassed if it weren’t for his tongue suddenly licking into you, scooping his and your orgasm into his hot mouth. You are at the brink of overstimulation, hair and clothes sticking to your sweaty skin, not even making a sound to stop him from pushing his face into your pussy from behind. His tongue is everywhere, all over you, tip of it flicking your puffy clit, then flattening, just to lick your whole cunt all the way to your rim. The only thing that wakes you up from your state of exhaustion and pleasure all together is him retrieving from you, pressing his chest to your back and to only shove his tongue inside your mouth to make you taste the tanginess of your mixed pleasures.

You both got exactly what you wanted — though neither of you is sure, when it will be enough.

[eeboyysworld]

Hello! Hope you're having a nice day. If you're taking requests, could i ask for Dae-Ho x male reader? Thank you! :)

“ I know you wanna kiss me-“

—⋆. 𐙚⋆.˚

Genre: Smut

Kang Dae-ho X Male!Reader

Cautions/Warnings: Praise kink, Enemies to (not) lovers, Teasing, Hair pulling, hand job, Dae-ho pops a boner and you’re the most decent person to help.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Pain swirled inside your ankle, a purple mark forming there. You just had to twist it , didn’t you.

the previous game left a huge mark on you, a large turning compartment in the middle of the room.

Mingle, that’s what it was called.

People fighting for their life’s, shoving and pushing innocent (or not) people into the ground, that includes you. Getting slammed to the hard ground froze you on the spot, the pain coming in waves.

You would had died. If it wasn’t for the man , whom you had bothered the past days of being in this hell hole, saved you.

Getting out of his own way to drag your limp body into the blood covered room.

Dae-ho, Cheery despite the situation, cracking jokes but remains serious when needed. You didn’t know him outside these games, but being divided into two groups, ‘x and o’ , you had no choice but to dislike them.

You voted to stay inside the games, the debt and reality of the outside world crashing down on you. It was stupid , voting for your own death.

You had every reason to thank him endlessly for giving you another chance at life, bowing towards him.

Despite the brawls the two of you got in, he shook the past aside , reassuring that ‘you would do the same for him.’

———

The bed you resided on was comfortable enough to rest on, the metal underneath the thin material digging into you.

The state your foot was left in wasn’t half bad , considering it had been a couple hours since then.

The bruise still contrast to your skin.

Rice mushing around your mouth, the flavour dull as you could taste the fork more than the food.

Swashing it down with a bottle of milk.

Your bottom became sore after sitting on it for the past hours , during the time passing you had been accept into this little group.

Diverse people combined into one alliance, to stop the games. The new faces marking a memory in your head.

A few of them offering their bread and milk towards you and another young girl.

Flustered under their gazes, smiling accepting the offer with a thanks.

Sluggishly nibbling the crust, zoning in and out of conversations. You tried your best to not get attached to them, dreadfully knowing sooner or later you’ll all die.

Despite the Traumatic scenes that unfolded Infront of all of you, one person lifted the mood.

The smiling marine kept making advances towards you, keeping you company.It was sweet, the two of you talking about the past and hopes for whatever future you could get.

Guilt crept at you, apologizing for the harm you caused.

“This place can make a person crazy.” Patting your upper thigh as he spoke,” I don’t blame you, we were on different sides only trying to survive.” His gaze felt heavy, lowering your own head, attention drifting to the ,used to be, white shoes.

“If I could..” stammering the words out,” In any way- I would repay you.” Your leg involuntary bouncing.

He paid no response, staring off into the distance, eyes glinting with uncertainty.

The silence between you guys hadn’t flatter, even with the voices and shouts in the background.

You guys sat like that until an announcement rang, lights dimming as the hallway lights shined through, casting a glow just enough to navigate.

Having the need to stay up, you accepted the challenge of fighting sleep to keep watch. Nestling yourself in between two bunk beds.

The night rolling on , countless snores and conversations could be heard.

An hour in of keeping guard, flinching when a hand slapped your shoulder, suddenly becoming aware of your surroundings.

Dramatically exhaling as the familiar face appeared before you. “Ah..you scared me.”

A nervous chuckle left him, slotting himself beside you. He felt off, energy leeching off of him.

You had notice the way he slumped, eyes twitching to get a glimpse of you, fingers digging into his pants.

Neither of you spoke, stealing ‘risky’ glances towards each other. It went on like that , before he finally got the courage to voice his thoughts.

“I .. have a problem..” concern adorned you, had he been hurt last game? , whispering your question.

Getting a shake of a head left you wondering what happened. “I was just thinking..you were the only one who could help.”

Biting his lip, gulping as he muttered.

Barely hearing it, kindly asking him to speak up a bit.

Locking his eyes onto you, “ It’s.. uhm-“ cutting himself off, licking his lips as a habit.

Letting the quietness settle before speaking, “ D-down..theree.” Dragging the ‘e’ to a halt.

Huh.. taking a peak downwards, curiosity getting the better of you. Eyes slightly widening, catching the bulge between his legs. Wow.

Now..what would a rational person do in this situation. Kindly turn down the offer. But you were not rational.

Turning your body to the side, bringing your gaze to his face, making eye contact.

It had suddenly become too hot in this place. Feeling your face tingling from his attention.

“Oh..” there was practically butterflies swooning inside you, he wants you to help him.

He was quick to apologize for making you uncomfortable, steadily getting up, bowing towards you. He knew he shouldn’t have asked..

But before he could get away , a hand grabbed onto his loose shirt, pulling the other closer to you.

The feeling of arousal pooling inside you, whispering so that no one but you two could hear.

“I would love to help you.” Was it the fact you pitted him for popping a boner out of all places, maybe , he was rather cute, a perfect face to be ruined by you.

He was shocked to say the least, trying to regain composure only to be pushed to the bed farthest away.

You kept on your feet , despite just recovering from the injury you endured,while he was seated.

Greedy hands exploring his body, flushed face inches away from you. He was so close to your lips he can feel your breath.

It was awkward in the moment, as he never was this close to you, he shyly thanked you for doing this for him.

You could only smile, the soft lights shining both of you, silhouettes dancing on the walls.

muttering , “I told you I would repay you..” eyes wandering across his face, noticing every detail you could drink up.

Becoming shy under such gaze, the other melted into the comfort of the bed.

Trailing your hands downwards, ruffling the stained tracksuit. Your body moving with your hands, dropping to your knees.

The soft thud bouncing off the arena, the rough floor digging into the your flesh.

He was like jelly under your touch, folding as skilled hands gripped his waist, every touch riling him up more.

Breathe fawning his clothed bulge, it was like you were examining him. He peered at you, mouth agape.

He nearly yelped as you lunged frontwards, throwing his palm to silence the sounds.

You sat there knees spread slightly aprat, mouthing the fabric, saliva seeping through the material, the warm wetness lubricating himself.

His other hand shakily made its way to your head, softly resting on the head of hair. You didn’t want it just sitting there.

Roughly grabbing his fingers to thread the locks, swapping your tongue out to cause a reaction out of him, the sensation made his fingers grip.

Muffled apologies hidden behind his palm, neck tense from how he contained himself.

You continued to torment the poor guy, keeping his junk in his pants. He was frustrated and sensitive to the touch.

Mouth kept working towards him, pants dark from the amount of spit on it, outlining his length.

He couldn’t even do anything about it, he couldn’t scream and beg you to touch him, that would end bad.

Left to squirm and whine in his seat.

After you felt decent about your work, pulling yourself away, admiring him.

“Try to be quiet, ay?” It was a statement, you couldn’t have him moaning into the air, not when you knew the other people now.

Shoving your hand into the tracksuit, slipping through the others boxers,

Feeling the pre-cum drip down along with your spit, creating the perfect natural lube.

Steadily dragging downwards and up, purring sweet nothings, “ Aw, hold on a little longer..” slipping up and down, fastening the pace. “You’re doing so good for me.”

Your words went straight to his head, not the one on-top his shoulders.

The hand he chose to mouth on had a red mark, the other settled into your locks of hair, tightening and letting loose.

Sounds of desperation could be heard if someone listened too intently.

It was too much , the soft padding of your hand left him a mess. You kept reducing the speed before fastening it up, the stimulation was overbearing.

Finger playing with his angry tip, the touch as light as a feather, yet it had him stuttering. “Mm- m-more..”

He was heavy in your hand, was practically throbbing.

“ You deserve it ..don’t you?” You were playing with him, watching the desperate head nods.

Continuing to stoke him, leading him to Chase his high , thrusting into your hand.

Bed ever so slightly squeaking with the weight of his body moving up and down.

You let him rut into you like a dog, his hair tie loosening up, hair pieces flowing out.

You let him rock his hips in your hold, only choosing to add pressure back and forth.

Dick twitching, incoherent words stammering into the air. “Please.. I’m so c-close..”

Taking pity, you began to move with him, lining the timing perfectly.

He basically humped your hand, gripping your hair , moving you along with him. Letting him to use your body.

His stomach held a pit that kept growing, throwing his head backwards, biting his hand to keep silent.

The body movement he made told you he was close, moving your hand the fastest you can, the sounds encouraging you onward.

He spoke your name like a prayer, face flushed with the amount of heat he felt, the urge to just say fuck it and throw you onto the bed.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wanna do that, despite all the people. Images flashed through him, he didn’t think he could imagine such things.

Your mouth on him as he fucked your face, he would be the one setting the pace, not you.

He could feel himself twitch.

Breathe ragged as he let himself spill into you, pulsing in your hand, body becoming limp in the hold.

Sitting there before slowly moving, long breaths leaving him.

The feeling of your hand leaving, taking the warmth with you. He whimpered from lost of contact like a kicked puppy.

Instead of wiping the evidence away, you decided to lick at it, swirling the liquid away into your warm mouth.

He was left agape , eyes focused on the way your tongue came out to lap it up, head tilted towards him, fluttering your eyes at him.

That’s one way to get rid of it.

The saltiness was bittersweet.

Latching off with a pop, moving to your feet, legs sore from sitting down. Guiding the other into you, lips finding his.

Nipping at him, slotting your tongue inside , letting the taste of bitterness sweep all over.

Moans vibrated through the both of you, hands finding what it can to ground into.

A shout had you yanking away, fearing you had hurt the other man.

“I didn’t see anything.” Slowly turning to the side, making eye contact you didn’t want to make with the most nonchalant man you ever met.

Greeting him with a ,”Good morning Young-il..”

You didn’t expect that scream to lead to that face.

———

I did not finish this when i said i would ❤️

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ CARMEN kim chaewon x reader

❀ ͘ ⴰ previous chapters | richgirl ⭢ that girl (she’s delicious) ⭢ idon’t smoke ⭢ pretty when you cry ⭢ homesick ⭢ super rich kids ⭢ girl, so confusing ⭢ consume (bonus) ⭢ take your mask off

↳ warnings richgirl!yn, more sakura and yn focus on this chapter, angst, flashbacks, guilt, a lot of confusion, over working, mentions of fainting, mentions of not eating, arguments, guilt, alcohol

it had been exactly a week since the girls stayed at the moons' humble home, and things had taken a strange turn, really strange.

yn returned to the dorms a couple of days later, though this time, she didn’t have much of a choice. their comeback preparations were in full swing, and her absence wasn’t an option.

but ever since their visit to yn’s family home, something felt… off. it wasn’t anything anyone could point out directly, but the shift in the air was undeniable. with everyone back together, practicing and prepping for the comeback, the strange energy became even more apparent.

yet, no one mentioned it. it was as though everyone had silently agreed to ignore the unsettling vibe that lingered between them, as if pretending it didn’t exist might make it go away.

no one noticed.

except sakura.

the first thing sakura noticed was how frazzled chaewon seemed after leaving the moon house. she had gone back to grab her phone and returned looking visibly shaken. when sakura asked what was wrong, chaewon brushed it off with a shake of her head.

the next thing she noticed was yunjin. normally the one to eagerly join in on chaewon’s rants about yn, yunjin had suddenly become... quieter. she didn’t even want to hear it anymore, shutting down conversations with comments like, "let’s just focus on this," or, "it’s really not that serious." it was strange, yunjin had always been vocal when it came to their shared thoughts about yn.

well, all of them except for kazuha, sakura thought.

but now, it seemed like yunjin was distancing herself from anything related to yn, actively changing the subject whenever her name came up. sakura couldn’t fathom what could have caused the sudden shift. what happened at the moon house that had made yunjin so... different?

sakura didn’t know where she found the courage, but she finally asked yunjin what was going on with her. the younger girl’s response was short and cryptic, “we’re a group, we should act like it.”

whatever that means.

you see, sakura had worked incredibly hard to get to where she was now, and she continued to push herself every single day. that was her problem with yn.

yn was the embodiment of having it easy. the brand deals, the fans, the love, it all seemed to fall into her lap without much effort. sometimes, it looked like she didn’t even have to try. she just had it, effortlessly shining in a way that made it hard to look away.

sakura liked to call her teruhashi. whenever yn asked what she meant by that, sakura would just laugh it off, shaking her head like it was some inside joke yn wouldn’t understand.

so yeah, sakura felt like she had every right to feel the way she did about yn. everyone in the group had put in years of hard work to get here, sacrificing everything to make it. and then came her—this rich girl whose dad conveniently got shares in the company, who was plopped into the group last minute before debut, only to become the most popular member overnight.

it wasn’t fair.

the room was filled with heavy breaths, the squeak of sneakers against the floor, and the steady rhythm of the music.

"one, two, three, four, all the girls are—"

"sakura, straighten your arms. make sure your lines are clean," the choreographer called out, scanning the group. "actually, all of you— wait, yn, come here."

they gestured for yn to step forward before turning back to the others. "this. this is exactly how you should be doing it."

"can you demonstrate?" the choreographer asked, turning to yn.

all eyes were on her now.

she stood there, unfazed, wearing bedazzled sunglasses so dark it was a mystery if she could even see. paired with baggy pink sweatpants, a top that barely passed as a shirt, more like a bikini top and, of all things, a pair of low moon boots.

what the hell is she wearing? chaewon had muttered under her breath when they left the dorm that morning and how does someone where that and still look good yn did, gosh she was a mess, a mess who was still the best in the room.

she unpaused the music, and immediately, yn started moving.

yn was versatile. no matter what concept was thrown at them, she adapted effortlessly, slipping into each one like it was made for her. sakura wasn’t going to lie, she had to mentally prepare every time they switched concepts, had to push herself to embody something new.

so watching yn do it so easily… it always made her feel a certain way.

like now.

the choreographer clapped after yn finished the part she instructed her to do, “that’s exactly how I want you guys to do it, keep your eyes on yn for now on.”

sakura kept her eyes on yn the whole time, noticing how the girl didn’t seem all that pleased with the choreographer’s praise.

why was that? if it were her, she’d be basking in it.

“yn you can go back, let’s start from the top.”

the rest of practice was a disaster, not in terms of their dancing, but the energy in the room. it didn’t feel like teamwork. it felt like competition.

sakura didn’t just want to match yn’s movements. she wanted to surpass them, but she couldn’t and that was the problem.

sighs of relief filled the room as the girls took sips of water, exhaustion settling in while they packed up their things.

sakura slung her bag over her shoulder, ready to leave, when she noticed something, yn was the only one who hadn’t packed up yet.

she stood alone in the corner, quietly sipping water from the dispenser, as if in no rush to leave.

sakura wasn’t the only one who noticed.

she watched as kazuha’s gaze landed on yn, her brows furrowing as she said something to her. whatever it was, sakura couldn’t make it out over the chatter of the other girls.

her curiosity only grew when kazuha suddenly shook her head, turning away from yn and heading back toward the group.

"let’s go," she muttered, not looking back.

"wait, wait, what’s up with yn?" sakura asked as the rest of the girls filed out of the room.

kazuha let out an annoyed sigh. "she’s staying to practice more. said she’ll be home in an hour, but knowing her, that probably means tomorrow."

"hasn’t she done enough?" sakura scoffed. "she already embarrassed us today. does she even realize we’re supposed to be on the same level?"

if yn wanted to be that good, maybe she should’ve just been a soloist.

kazuha opened her mouth to respond, but she just let out a sigh and shook her head.

most nights, sakura was the first to head to bed or at least the first to retreat to her room.

but not tonight.

it was nearly 1 a.m., and instead of sleeping, she sat on the couch, mindlessly watching netflix, barely paying attention to the time.

she flinched at the sound of the front door creaking open, instinctively pulling her blanket tighter around herself.

she had just finished a horror movie and was already onto the next so this was definitely not an ideal situation.

sloppy foot steps was heard making her furrow her eyebrows until it hit her, yn.

yn came into view, the sunglasses she had worn earlier now gone, revealing tired, red rimmed eyes. an oversized sweater hung loosely over her frame, swallowing her up.

she stumbled slightly as she walked through the entryway, one hand reaching out to the wall for support.

"yn?" sakura called out, her voice laced with confusion.

yn looked up at her, her eyes barely open. when she saw sakura, they widened in surprise. "um..." she mumbled, unsure of how to respond.

“I thought you came back hours ago, were you still practicing?” sakura questioned, yn’s whole body language setting alarms in her head, “how did you even get back?”

“it was one of my family’s drivers. It doesn’t matter what time, it's their job." yn mumbled, her words barely audible as she completely avoided sakura’s eyes.

"that sounds pretty privileged," sakura scoffed, her tone sharp with disbelief.

"it was either that, or I would’ve passed out with no one around to help." yn snapped back, her words laced with frustration.

"huh?" sakura muttered, finally noticing the hospital bracelet wrapped around yn’s wrist. "yn... were you just at the hospital?"

"what does it look like?" the younger girl shot back, heading toward the kitchen without a second glance.

sakura followed her without hesitation. “what? how? why?”

yn opened the fridge and grabbed a cold water bottle. “you know, the usual, undereating, overworking.”

“the usual?” sakura echoed, disbelief creeping into her voice.

yn let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the counter. “why do you even care?”

"because one of my members was just in the hospital, didn’t contact any of us, and then just casually calls it the usual?"sakura shot back, her frustration clear, “why would I not care?”

"because it is the usual. not my fault you haven’t noticed," yn shot back, her voice tinged with irritation. "and why would you not care? because you haven’t before, sue me."

sakura let out a frustrated sigh. "yn... this is different. this is important. this is your health."

yn shook her head, taking another sip from her water bottle. "it really isn’t different. with all the stuff you say about me, all the things you probably think about me, why on earth would you care about this?"

“yn-”

"well, since you’ve gotten me started, I guess I should finish, right?" yn cut her off, taking another sip of water, her movements sluggish like someone trying to sober up. "you know, you were probably the one who hurt me the most." after chaewon of course but she wasn’t going to say that out loud.

sakura furrowed her brow, confusion flooding her expression as yn continued. "I mean, you’re the older, motherly one who takes care of everyone... but you never even batted an eye at me. so, sorry for being freaked out right now by you suddenly caring."

the words hit sakura like a punch to the gut. she felt a sharp pang in her chest, she didn’t know how to respond.

"and when I found out you and chaewon were former idols, I thought, great, I have someone older who can guide me through this crazy industry," yn rambled, her voice thick with frustration. "but I guess I’m just too rich and perfect for that. instead, I had you laughing along with everyone else while old men belittled me."

sakura opened her mouth, but no words came out. it felt like everything yn said was just pouring out, and she was left speechless.

yn leaned further against the counter, taking another sip of water, and sakura couldn't shake the thought, was that even water?

"maybe it’s just me being dumb and craving that mother figure but it was such a shock for me," yn continued, "because when I was at sm, the girls I was with took care of me so well. you know aespa, right? you probably know I was supposed to debut with them?"

sakura nodded, her mind numb, her stomach sinking. guilt consumed her, she felt sick.

“yn-”

"did you also know I was forced out of the lineup because of my father?" yn’s words were laced with venom, and sakura flinched, the sharpness stinging her more than she expected. "I don’t want to be in this group as much as you don’t want me here."

"yn-"

"I have a question for you, unnie," yn said, dragging out "unnie" with a mocking tone. "do you hate me, or is it your insecurities getting the best of you?"

sakura was speechless. yn was right. yn was rich, pleasant, and constantly praised, yet that was just the surface, what sakura had seen from the outside. she didn’t know the full story, but the proof was standing right in front of her.

sakura wanted to be her in some ways, and that desire had only gotten in the way of building a connection with her.

"yn… I-"

"what’s going on?" chaewon’s voice broke through the tension, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she stepped into the kitchen. "I heard noise—what the hell, did you just get here?" her words were aimed at yn, who just shook her head, walking past chaewon and down the hall.

sakura’s gaze lingered down the hall where yn had disappeared, her chest heavy. chaewon’s questioning tone snapped her back to the moment. "what happened?"

a lump grew in sakura’s throat as she struggled to find the words. "um, nothing. just go back to bed."

she finally understood yunjin.

[elalfywhore]

could you write a paige x reader with the brother's best friend trope?

•you guys didn’t never not like each other, it was your typical older brothers best-friend thing.

•you guys shared awkward “hi”s whenever you ran into each other at the store. when she came over to hang out with your brother there was never more than 20 words exchanged between the two of you.

•you always found her attractive, she was tall, lean and had a pretty face but, you were sure she hadn’t felt the same way considering you were just her bestfriends little sister to her.

•you would hear your brother and her talk about whatever fling she had, you didn’t try and listen too hard but you couldn’t help yourself.

• “bro you don’t even understand the brain this girl gave me.” you could hear her smack her lips with a laugh, the provocative words dripping from her mouth. your parents were gone for the weekend, and your brother had invited paige over to watch the game. you could hear them talking from the kitchen as you made dinner. “might’ve been good but she’s still not a ten” your brother fired back, “whatever bro, i’m gonna go grab another beer. you want one?” you can’t hear your brother respond but you can imagine he nodded at the blondes words.

•paige could always make you nervous, she always had this effect on you to where no matter what was happening you always looked like a deer in headlights when you saw her.

• “smells good.” her voice is softer than normal as she walks towards the fridge. “ ‘s just spaghetti.” you whisper, barley able to make eye contact. “that’s my favorite, y’know?” she opens the fridge, pulling two beers out. “yeah, it’s good.” you try and concentrate on the pot of sauce in front of you but when she doesn’t leave and her stare is intense on you, you can’t help but slightly turn your head towards her. “do you need something, paige?” she steps closer to you, getting close enough that you can feel her breath on her ear as she steps behind you. “you’re a real pretty girl, know that?” your breath hitches, she uses one hand to tuck some hair behind your ear, resting her head on your shoulder for but a second to whisper in your ear, “i would give anything to fuck you.”

NSFW BELOW!!!

•that night kinda blurred. your brother had one too many beers and passed out on the couch, you were already up in your room. paige saw the opportunity and took it.

•the hard part for paige wasn’t convincing you to spread you legs and lay back for her, the hard part was getting you to be quiet.

• “shhh, don’t wanna wake him up.” paige whispered from between your thighs. your ass was pulled to the edge of the bed and she was on her knees on the floor. she had your legs pushed back as far as they could go, leaving your dripping, warm, wet pussy on display for her. “mm’ sorry, just feels s’ good.” you whine, slapping your hand over your mouth as she licks a stripe up your pussy. you watch as she spits on your pussy before sticking her tongue out, rubbing it up and down your pussy and shaking her head in it. “oh-oh my god baby, feels so good.” you whimper, “feel good, princess?” she teases, sticking two fingers in and taking your clit into her mouth.

•there was something fun about sneaking around with paige, she made it clear after that night it wasn’t a one time thing but she couldn’t risk your brother knowing yet.

•you guys sneak in little kisses and make out session whenever you can.

•if your brother gets up to go to the bathroom while you guys are watching tv, she’s defiling you for the few minutes he’s gone. shoving her tongue down your throat, her hand grazing your pussy under your pj shorts, the other hand groping your tit.

•the first time you ever fingered paige had been about 2 weeks since your guys’ first hookup and it happened on your couch while your brother was showering to get ready to go to some party with paige.

• “that’s it, pretty girl.” paige bites her lip, one of her hands buried in your hair, slightly pulling and the other hand teasing your nipple that was exposed from your tank top being pulled up. you moan at the sight, your middle and ring finger being swallowed by her, her jeans and boxers pulled down just enough for you to be able to do this. “you’re so hot.” you whimper, the sound of her wetness reacting to your fingers being drowned out by the tv. “you’re the hot one, baby.” she mumbles, pushing your head towards hers, putting her lips to yours. she moans into your mouth as your fingers speed up. “i’m gonna cum baby, keep going.” she bites her lip, your noses touching and eyes staring into eachothers. “cum for me baby, wanna taste you please.” you talk her through it. her body twitches as she bites back a moan and you feel a stickiness start dripping from her, a tall tale sign. you pull your fingers out, shoving them in your mouth making her throw her head back with a smile, biting her lip watching you.

• when she does go out with your brother, she’s texting you like the whole time, reassuring you she’s not talking to other girls.

•she’s super thoughtful, she always sends you cute texts, she holds doors open for you, buys you things even when she doesn’t have too.

•it felt like a dream being with paige, and you had never intended on your brother finding out. especially not so soon, knowing it could put an end to things with paige if he knew.

•paige was killing your shit from the back. when she texted you to come over you weren’t expecting her to have a plastic dick attached to her but it was a pleasant surprise. “that feel good, huh? little fucking slut.” she moaned at the sight of your plump ass clapping against her hips. “feels s’ good, fuck daddy don’t stop.” you feel yourself becoming more wet when she puts one of her legs up on the bed, foot planting on it. her grip tightens on your hips and she fucks into you, her stamina and athleticism showing. “you love. this. dick. huh baby, you love it pretty girl?” her thrusts match her words. “love this dick so much daddy, fuck me harder, please.” you moan, face shoved into the pillows, looking and sounding like something out of a porn. that was until the door opened.

•it was an embarrassing moment as much as it was quick. the door opened and closed in a flash. you and paige rushing to get ready. you weren’t sure what was worse, your brother seeing that for a split second or having to explain how your sexual relationship with his bestfriend started.

•it took him a while, like months to come to terms. once the secret was out paige and you made things official after some back and fourth, considering the circumstances. things got better after that, he accepted things for what they were as long as you guys promised to lock the door.

[no-144444]

abu dhabi- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist, mentions of crashes and injuries.

a/n: thank you all very much for your patience, this series means a lot to me and I've had a lot of personal stuff going on, so I felt bad for leaving you guys hanging for a bit. Thank you all so much for reading this series and I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I love writing it!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Abu Dhabi. World Drivers Champion. World Constructors Champions.

Holy shit. 

All those years of hard work, of giving up being a child, of giving up having friends or family. You’d done it. You were a winner. 

You jumped out of the car and ran straight to Oscar, jumping in his arms. He caught you (of course) and cheered with you. 

“You fucking did it!” he smiled, pulling your helmet off. “You did it!” 

Every emotion flooded through you, but one in particular stood out; gratefulness. 

You were grateful for Oscar, for how he treated you, for who he was. He was there for you through everything, he helped you whenever he could, and while yes, you had a rough start, in the end you couldn’t imagine F1 without Oscar in it. 

“Thank you, Osc, for everything,” you smiled, hugging him close. 

“Anytime. Whenever. Always,” he nodded. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

He was drunk as fuck, but he was still watching you as you chatted with various team members. 

“You’re fucked, aren’t you?” Lando chuckled, joining his side. 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “I’m drunk, yes.”

“No. You’re fucked for her,” Lando pointed twoards you. Perfect, unreachable, you. 

“Yes,” he nodded, frowning. “I’m fucked for her.”

“It’s pretty clear.”

“I know it is,” Oscar scoffed. “Thanks for Baku, by the way.”

Lando sighed. “Look, I’ve said a lot of shit this season that I didn’t mean, and I’m sorry I was a dick to the two of you. It wasn’t right and I do feel bad about it. So, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, but that doesn’t solve the fact that she’s being this mysterious weirdo and acting really into me and then really not,” Oscar whined. 

“She’s a very broken person-”

“You think?” Oscar rolled his eyes. “You’re not exactly giving me much hope right now.”

Lando laughed at his drunk state. “Just talk to her,” he offered. “She listens to you no matter what.”

Oscar stared at him, then nodded. “Good idea!” he announced (a little too loud as it drew the attention of a few people around the two of them), and looked at you. But you weren’t there. Oscar frowned again. 

“You’ll find her before the end of the night, I’m sure you will,” Lando clapped a hand on his shoulder and passed him a bottle of water to sober him up. “Good luck.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Oscar had decided to go find you, he wanted to talk. On the way there, he’d acquired about three more drinks and pissed off a small group of other McLaren employees by spilling one of his three drinks and apologised profusely (albeit rather mumbly), and that’s when you came in with a hand on his shoulder and a gentle smile that brushed it all over. 

“Are you alright?” you asked him, taking him to a corner to look him over. 

“Y/n?” he questioned, his vision blurry. “Is that you?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, it’s me buddy, you alright?” 

He nodded, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you too, Osc, come on, we get you to bed?” you offered, pulling one of his arms over your shoulder and helping him walk. 

“Bed sounds good,” he nodded, allowing you to walk him to his room. 

Drunk Oscar was what you assumed three year olds acted like. He pressed every button in the lift, ding-dong ditched people in the hallway, and stripped (almost) naked the second he got in the door of his room. After a few minutes of being in his room, he decided it was a good time to puke his guts out in the toilet, and you, being the good samaritan you are, decided to stay with him. 

“Feeling any better?” you asked, putting a cold cloth on his head as he lay in bed. You sat beside him, holding his hand. 

He shook his head, his eyes closed and a grimace on his lips. “Shit.” 

You chuckled lightly. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

He opened his eyes and stared into yours, his hand resting over your hand. And time (as it always did when he was looking at you like that) stopped. The world melted away, and it didn’t matter that it was 2 in the morning, or that he’d just vomited, or that all of this was a lot more confusing than either of you had anticipated. You two just got to be with each other, and that was enough for the both of you. 

“Why don’t you love me?” he asked, his voice small and raw. He spoke to you with all the care in the world, but you could see he was hurting. You were hurting him. 

Fuck. Why couldn’t any of this be easy? Why couldn’t you just… talk to him? Confess to him? Be normal? The boy you love was sitting there in front of you telling you he loved you and you just… froze for a moment. You took a deep breath.  “Osc, of course I love you,” you whispered. “But you shouldn’t love me. I wouldn’t be any good for you.”

“I don’t care-”

“You’d end up hating me-”

“I could never hate you,” he shook his head, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek. “I could never hate you.”

And you believed him. That was the scary part. You believed him when he told you he loved you. You believed him when he said he cares. You believed him when he said you look beautiful. You believed him when he said he wouldn’t hate you. “You should,” you whispered, tears forming in your eyes. 

“I couldn’t,” he whispered back, a soft smile on his face. He wiped away a tear that fell. “I don’t want you to be scared of how you feel.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” your voice broke. “I’m not an easy person to love.”

“I disagree,” he chuckled, wiping every tear away. “I find it’s as easy as breathing.” 

And you couldn’t take it anymore. You curled up beside him and sobbed. You didn’t know how long you’d done it for, but you woke up beside him, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your head giving you something to ground yourself to. You remembered every moment of last night, every word he said, and everything you said. 

You just hoped he wouldn’t. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

When Oscar woke up, he knew there was something he had asked you last night, but he couldn’t remember what. After his conversation with Lando, there was nothing else he really remembered, apart from the fact that you had brought him up to his room, and he pieced together that he’d probably asked you to stay (being the pathetic hopeless romantic he is), and that’s why you were in his bed. 

A few seconds after waking up, the hangover hit, and fuck it was bad. His entire body ached. 

“I’m never drinking again,” he groaned, his voice hoarse. 

You chuckled beside him. “Remember anything?” 

He sighed, turning to meet your eyes. “Nope.”

As much as that destroyed you, you knew it was for the better. Oscar was better off without you, that, you knew for sure. But, you also couldn't put aside the confession he'd made last night. “I find it’s as easy as breathing.” It played in your head over and over again, like a mantra that made every negative thought in your head silent for a few seconds. Oscar was good at that, making you question yourself. Either way, you were glad he hadn't remembered. It was for the better, right?

There was a split second where he could’ve sworn he saw a flash of disappointment in your eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it was there, replaced with a smile. “Well, let’s go back to Monaco.”

He groaned just thinking about facing the day, but the fact that he woke up next to you meant it was better than any day he’d ever had. 

He definitely needed to know what he asked you last night. And you definitely needed him to not find out. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

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[jungwnies]

under pressure - lando norris (ln4)

୨ৎ : pairing : lando norris x fem!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : you and lando have been best friends since childhood, but as lando’s struggles grow and his relationships with others become more public, you finds yourself battling your unspoken love for him.

୨ৎ : genre : romance, drama, friendship ୨ৎ : wc : 684

୨ৎ requested ୨ৎ // ୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ // buy me a ko-fi ☕️

lando walked into his apartment, looking completely wiped out. his hair was a mess, his eyes were barely open, and his shoulders were slumped like the weight of the world was on them. you didn’t even have to ask what kind of day he’d had. you could see it in his face. it was written all over him.

you were already sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, but when he stepped inside, you put it down without a second thought. he barely even looked up when he dropped his bag to the floor and collapsed onto the couch next to you.

"long race?" you asked softly, glancing at him.

he didn’t even respond right away. he just let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his messy hair. "i can’t even remember the last time i slept," he muttered, his voice rough.

you didn’t say anything for a moment. you knew when to give him space, and you also knew when he needed someone. he’d always needed you, just like you’d always needed him. but lately, things had started to feel… different. he was still the same lando you’d grown up with, but there was something in the air between you two now—something you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much you tried.

you let the silence hang for a while. you didn’t need to push him to talk. lando would tell you when he was ready.

“you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” you said quietly, your voice calm, reassuring. you just let your hand rest on the couch between you, your fingers lightly brushing the fabric. he knew you’d always be there for him.

after a few seconds, he let out a shaky breath, and you saw his eyes shift, like he was thinking about something he didn’t know how to say.

“it’s just… been hard,” he finally said, his voice cracking a little.

you could hear the exhaustion in his tone, see it in the slump of his shoulders. he didn’t even need to say anything else for you to know exactly what he meant. the race, the pressure, the constant noise of being in the public eye. you knew it was all getting to him. and if you were honest, you knew he wasn’t just tired from the race. it was everything that had been weighing on him lately.

“you’re always here for me,” he said after a beat, his eyes flicking over to you. there was something soft in his gaze, like he was grateful, but also a little sad. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

you smiled, but it wasn’t as easy as it used to be. “you don’t have to do anything alone, lando. you know that.”

he sighed and leaned back against the couch, his eyes starting to drift closed. you wanted to reach out, to touch him, to comfort him, but there was a part of you that held back. you’d been in love with him for so long now, but you’d never said anything. you thought he didn’t feel the same, and the last thing you wanted to do was make things awkward between you two.

so, you just sat there, close enough that you could feel his warmth, but far enough that it didn’t feel like you were pushing your luck. you kept your feelings hidden, hoping he would never notice.

lando shifted slightly, turning his head toward you. his voice was softer now, almost a whisper. “thanks,” he said, his eyes finally opening and meeting yours.

you nodded, your throat tightening. “always.”

and for a second, it was just the two of you, like it always had been. you could hear the quiet hum of the apartment around you, but in that moment, everything else felt distant. lando was right there, close to you, and you tried not to think about how much you wanted more.

but deep down, you knew you couldn’t have more. you were his best friend, and that was enough. or, at least, you tried to convince yourself that it was.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[wordsmeetwbb]

Not Just Friends

Word count: 1.8k

Content: fluff

Pairing: Pazzi

Notes: I needed a break from writing smut so here's a little something about Paige and Azzi figuring out they're gay! Obviously we don't know how this happened (if it happened, but let's be honest. they play women's basketball. the odds are high.), but this is just my take on how I think those realizations would have gone. Enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think!

________

Paige was 16 when she realized that what she felt for Azzi was more than just friendship. It was August, just over a year after they had met during USA basketball. They had settled into a routine over the summer. Although they were separated by half the country, they were closer than ever.

Every evening around eight o’clock, Paige Facetimed Azzi. More often than not, Azzi picked up on the first ring and they stayed on the call until one of them (Azzi) fell asleep. Paige missed Azzi with every fiber of her being, but she knew she was lucky to talk to Azzi as much as she did. She felt lucky that Azzi wanted to talk to her as much as she did.

On one of those Facetime calls, late into the night, Paige was yapping to Azzi while the brunette struggled to keep her eyes open. Really, it wasn’t Azzi’s fault. It was nearly two in the morning and Paige hadn’t stopped talking since midnight. She had tried to annoy Azzi into staying awake for a while, but then she felt bad and let the tired girl drift off, content to provide background noise with the endless amount of stories she wanted to tell Azzi.

“And then she like, she just fuckin’ chopped it! All of it! Like a foot of hair, Az. And I was like, ‘That’s crazy,’ and she was like ‘Not all of us have emotional attachments to our hair, Paige,’ but that’s not fair. I’m not emotionally attached, I’m just picky about my gameday hair, y’know?” Paige rambled to a mostly unconscious Azzi.

“Mhm,” Azzi mumbled. Through the screen, Paige could see the way the younger girl was nestled into the pile of blankets on her bed, clutching a unicorn stuffed animal. She smiled softly.

“Anyway, she tried to tell me I should cut my hair. And obviously, I said no, because how am I gonna do gameday braids with a fucking pixie cut, right? But she just wouldn’t let up so-” Paige cut herself off when she saw Azzi’s face relax. If she really thought about it, the reason she talked so much on these calls was because she knew Azzi fell asleep easier with background noise. And if she was extra motivated by the way the younger girl looked so peaceful in her sleep, well, that was her business and no one else’s.

Paige’s eyes traced every curve, line, and crease of Azzi’s face. Her skin glowed even in the dim room, the color darker than usual from the time she’d spent in the summer sun. Paige was confident that if she had any artistic ability whatsoever she’d be able to draw Azzi perfectly from memory. The way her eyelashes rested on her cheeks with her eyes closed, the light pink tint to her nose from a little too much time outside, the curve of her plump lips- Paige had it all memorized.

Paige hated ruining these soft moments where she just got to look at Azzi without the younger girl complaining about it, but as her eyes wandered around her face a thought popped into her head.

I’ve never looked at a guy like this. Paige paused, gaze stuck on Azzi’s perfectly curved eyebrows. What an odd thing to notice. A second thought. Paige wasn’t used to thinking during these Facetimes. She didn’t think she liked it, but the ideas seemed to have opened some kind of floodgates. More observations came pouring into her subconscious.

Her lips look so soft. I wonder what they feel like. Her eyes are such a pretty shade of brown, I wish I could see them right now. I’ve never felt like this about a friend.

Paige took a deep breath, startled by her train of thought. None of the thoughts surprised her. That was the whole problem. Azzi’s eyes were pretty, and her lips did look soft, and Paige did wonder what they felt like. She just hadn’t realized she thought any of those things.

Paige thought back to a few weeks ago when one of the girls on her team had been talking about her crush on some guy in the grade above them. The things her teammate had said about that guy had sounded a lot like everything Paige was thinking about Azzi.

Oh, Paige thought. I like Azzi.

It wasn’t anything revolutionary. Paige was pretty sure she had always liked Azzi. She just hadn’t known it. It wasn’t until nearly a year later when she and Azzi finally confessed their feelings to each other that Paige thought about what liking Azzi meant for herself.

“You never came out to me!” Azzi had exclaimed. Paige had frozen, staring at Azzi and really, truly not understanding.

“Come out to you?” she repeated. Azzi nodded, eyebrows drawing together.

“Yeah, like, are you bi? Lesbian? I came out to you months ago and I’ve been thinking you’re straight since we met, P,” she explained, looking at Paige like this was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh,” Paige said dumbly. Azzi just stared at her. “Uh, I guess I didn’t really think about it. Like, the whole not being straight thing. I just know I like you,” Paige shrugged. Azzi had blushed, the color intoxicating on her skin.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, pushing Paige’s shoulder gently. Paige just grinned.

“As long as I can be your idiot.”

________

Azzi learned she was gay at three in the morning on a Thursday when she was 16. It had, in a very cliche fashion, been a dream that sparked the realization.

She had woken up, breathing hard, the blankets feeling far too hot, with memories of soft lips on hers taking up far too much space in her mind. She threw the blankets off, sitting straight up in bed, and had a full-blown gay panic.

The longer she sat there, the more pieces of the dream came back to her. At first, it was just gentle lips on her own, and then soft blonde hair running through her fingers, and then it progressed to memories of warm pale skin under her hands. Azzi squeezed her eyes shut.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” she demanded to her brain. The clock was creeping closer to four in the morning, she had to be up for school in two hours, and she was being terrorized by completely non-platonic thoughts of her best friend. Azzi flopped face-down onto her bed and let out a scream into her pillow, realizing too late that the rest of her household was still sleeping and might have heard it.

Feeling frustratingly awake and completely insane, Azzi grabbed her phone off her nightstand and navigated into a new Google tab. “What does a dream about kissing someone mean?” she searched first. The results were straightforward, bluntly informing Azzi that dreams of kissing someone usually meant that you had romantic feelings for that person. That brought up new questions.

“How to know if I like girls?” was her next search. It was a ridiculous idea to Azzi. She had had crushes on boys before. Hell, she’d dated a boy in middle school, and as much as that wasn’t a real relationship, it definitely proved that she liked guys. So why the hell was she having a dream about kissing her best friend who was a girl? It didn’t make any sense.

“Why do I want to kiss a girl if I like guys?” Azzi tried, hoping that somebody on Reddit had the same problem as she did. Shockingly, there was a result. That’s how Azzi Fudd learned about bisexuality, and suddenly things made a lot more sense.

She tried to bring it up to Paige on their nightly Facetime that day, but Paige was being frustratingly dense.

“Hey, Paige? Have you ever thought about, like, dating somebody?” Azzi started. Paige startled, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

“Uh, yeah. But not like, for real. Don’t really wanna date people because like, ew, right? Anyway, I was thinking that next year-” Azzi, feeling disproportionately upset, ended the call. Mere seconds later, her phone was ringing with another Facetime from Paige. She let it ring for a while, wanting Paige to know that she hung up on purpose. Finally, she clicked to accept the call.

“What the hell, Az? I was telling you a story,” Paige complained. Azzi glared at her.

“And I was trying to tell you something, too.” Paige looked confused.

“But you asked me a question.”

“Yeah. Have you ever heard of a leading question, dumbass? I was using it as an intro to something,” Azzi grumbled. Paige had the decency to look at least a little bit sorry.

“That’s my bad, Az. It was just kind of a weird topic. Sorry, you can tell me whatever you were going to. I won’t even interrupt this time,” Paige apologized. Azzi swallowed, losing her nerve now that the moment had been drawn out so much.

“I just… uh. I wanted to tell you that I learned about something,” she said, mouth unbearably dry. Paige nodded, prompting her to go on. “You know that people can like guys and girls?” Azzi blurted out. Paige’s eyebrows shot up, surprise coloring her face, but she nodded slowly. Azzi could feel her hands shaking. She knew Paige was religious, but she was suddenly considering that this could end negatively. She didn’t give herself time to consider that outcome.

“I’m bisexual,” Azzi said quickly. She felt like her heart might beat right out of her chest. Paige looked at her for a moment, studying her through the phone. Azzi shifted uncomfortably. “Can you say something?” She asked, tone unsure. Paige cleared her throat, expression softening. Azzi felt her body relax immediately, just from noticing the change in Paige’s body language.

“You know I’m proud of you for telling me, right?” Paige asked. Azzi blinked. That was not the response she was expecting.

“You’re… proud of me?” she repeated. Paige nodded, the movement jerky through the screen. A smile spread across Azzi’s face.

“Thanks, Paige.” Paige just nodded again, a small smile on her face now.

So, from the time Azzi had the dream of kissing Paige (the first of many) to the time she came out to the blonde, her gay crisis lasted about 16 hours. When she thought about it later, years down the road, she thought it made complete sense. Azzi overthought every single thing in her life except Paige. Realizing she was bisexual was easy because it was Paige. The girl who talked her ear off on calls every night, who sent her iMessage games at ungodly hours, who always knew how to comfort her. Just Paige. Liking Paige made perfect sense.

[semisasseater]

But I'm overwhelmed with jealousy

Jealous! Se-mi x fem! reader

Summary: jealous gf se-mi headcannons!

Tw: jealous, possessive, aggression, intimation, killing/sabotaging players (didn’t get into detail), light hearted threats, se-mi is down BAD, se-mi wants readers attention, physical touch, humor + exaggeration (the kid part.) swearing and snarky remarks.. (kinda?) let me know if i missed anything!

authors note: can you see this is an enhypen reference? (the name of the fic and the pictures used..) dyk i actually name all my fics after my favorite artists (enhypen, illit, and ariana grande?!) also im gonna cry i miss my wife gabby but she’s doing SCHOOL. gonna sob

Not proofread!

Word count: 531

Jealous! Se-mi x Reader Headcanons

• Se-mi isn’t the type to openly admit she’s jealous, but the moment she feels threatened, her entire demeanor changes. Her eyes darken, her body stiffens, and her jaw clenches ever so slightly.

• She has a sharp resting glare, so sometimes people don’t even realize she’s fuming with jealousy—until she makes a snarky remark under her breath.

• If she sees someone getting too comfortable around you, she’ll silently step closer, standing just a little too protectively beside you, as if she’s reminding them who you belong to.

When a Kid Compliments You:

• You two were just casually walking down the street when a little kid looked up at you and innocently said, “Wow! You’re really pretty!”

• Before you could even react, you felt the air change—Se-mi went completely silent.

• You turned to see her standing still, her eyes darkened, lips pressed into a thin line. Instant panic.

• “Oh nononono, Se-mi! You’re not gonna hurt the child—he just complimented me!” you blurted out, quickly stepping in front of her.

• She scoffed, shaking her head. “You think I’d actually fight a kid?”

• …You weren’t sure. Because the way she was looking at that child made you think she just might.

• The poor kid, oblivious to the tension, just giggled and ran off. Meanwhile, you spent the next five minutes calming Se-mi down, reassuring her that even toddlers weren’t competition for her.

When Another Player Flirts With You in the Game:

• Se-mi is not subtle when another player tries flirting with you.

• She immediately steps between you and them, fixing them with a cold, unreadable stare.

• “Keep your eyes on the game, not my girlfriend” she says flatly scaring the other player away.

• If they don’t get the message, she doesn’t mind “accidentally” knocking into them during red light green light or making their life slightly more difficult.

• One time, Player 230 “jokingly” said, “Damn, Y/N, if we make it out of here, you should go on a date with me instead.”

• Se-mi didn’t say a word—she just gave him a look that made him rethink and question what he said then he takes what he said back.

Random Moments of Jealousy:

• Eye Contact? Nope. If someone so much as stares at you too long, Se-mi will stare back—until they get so uncomfortable they look away first.

• Physical Touch? Absolutely Not. If someone puts a hand on your shoulder or leans in too close, she’ll immediately pull you toward her with zero hesitation.

• Possessive Gestures. She often rests her hand on your waist, gives you her jacket, or calls you “mine” loud enough for others to hear.

• When she’s feeling particularly territorial, she’ll kiss you in front of others—just to make it crystal clear who you belong to.

When You Reassure Her:

• Sometimes, her jealousy is unreasonable, and you know it.

• “Se-mi, do you really think I’d leave you for a random stranger?”

• She crosses her arms and looks away, muttering, “I don’t like people thinking they have a chance.”

• You can’t help but smile and grab her hand, pulling her close.

• “You’re the only one for me, dummy.”

• She doesn’t respond, but you see the corner of her lips twitch—and that’s how you know she’s secretly pleased.

Overall:

• Se-mi is undeniably protective and territorial, but she trusts you enough not to lash out unless absolutely necessary.

• She won’t always voice her jealousy, but she’ll make sure everyone knows you’re hers in one way or another.

• Despite her sharp and intimidating nature, she secretly just wants reassurance that you love her as much as she loves you.

• And honestly? You think it’s kinda cute—as long as she doesn’t actually try to start a fight with a child again.

@semisasseater