#just thought I’d remind every one of that

[elryuse]

불장난 Playing With Fire

Yuna X Male Reader

Tags : Ex Girlfriend Yuna, Teasing, Kissing, Pretty Toxic And Slightly Weird Romance, Fluff, Pregnant? Marriage?

Words : 8,557 Words

You always thought the first time you met Yuna would be burned into your memory forever. The sparkle in her eyes, the way her laugh could fill a room, and how effortlessly she made you feel like the only person in the world. That was before. Before the lies, the heartbreak, and the shattered trust. Now, every memory of her feels distant, like a faded photograph buried in the back of your mind. You’ve tried to move on, to live your life without the weight of her betrayal pressing down on your chest.

But fate has a cruel sense of humor.

It’s an ordinary evening when you see her again. The streets are busy with the hum of traffic, and the golden glow of the setting sun reflects off car windows. You’re standing at the corner, waiting for the light to change, when you catch a flash of fiery red out of the corner of your eye. You glance over, and your heart skips a beat.

It’s her. Yuna.

Only, it’s not the Yuna you remember. Gone is the soft brown hair that used to fall in gentle waves down her shoulders. Now, her hair is a striking, fiery red, cut shorter, framing her face with an edge that screams confidence. Her figure, once curvier, is now more toned and petite, as if she’s carved herself into something entirely new. She’s wearing a leather jacket over a simple black dress, and her boots click sharply against the pavement as she crosses the street.

Your instinct is to look away, to pretend you didn’t see her. After everything that happened, the last thing you want is to reopen old wounds. But then, her eyes meet yours, and you know it’s too late.

“...Y/n?” she says, her voice softer than you expect.

You hesitate, debating whether to respond. “Yuna,” you finally say, your tone neutral, guarded.

Her lips curve into a small smile, but there’s something behind it—something you can’t quite place. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d run into you here,” she says, stepping closer.

You take a step back without meaning to, creating just enough distance to feel like you’re still in control. “It’s a big city,” you reply. “I guess it was bound to happen eventually.”

She tilts her head, studying you like you’re some puzzle she can’t quite figure out. “You look good,” she says, her eyes scanning you briefly. “Different, but… good.”

You resist the urge to scoff. “Thanks,” you say curtly. “You, too. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

She grins, brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear. “Yeah, the hair’s new. And I’ve been working out more. Needed a fresh start, you know?”

You nod, though you don’t really know what to say to that. The light changes, and the crowd around you begins to move. You take a step toward the crosswalk, hoping she’ll take the hint and let you go.

“Y/n, wait,” she says, reaching out to lightly touch your arm. The contact sends a jolt through you, and you pull back instinctively. Her smile falters for a moment, but she recovers quickly. “Can we talk? Just for a minute?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say firmly. “There’s nothing left to talk about.”

“Come on,” she says, her voice almost pleading. “It’s been, what, a year? Can’t we just… I don’t know, catch up? As friends?”

Friends. The word feels bitter on your tongue. You shake your head. “We were never just friends, Yuna. You know that.”

Her expression softens, and for a moment, she looks like the Yuna you used to know—the one who could make you smile no matter how bad your day had been. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “For everything. I know I screwed up, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I miss you, Y/n. I miss us.”

You feel your chest tighten, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. “You don’t get to say that,” you say, your voice low but firm. “You don’t get to miss us when you were the one who destroyed it.”

She flinches, and for a brief moment, you think you see tears glistening in her eyes. But then she straightens, her fiery hair catching the last rays of sunlight. “You’re right,” she says, her voice steadier now. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I’ve changed, Y/n. I’m not the same person I was back then.”

You want to believe her. A part of you—some small, foolish part—still wants to believe that the girl you fell in love with is still in there somewhere. But you can’t forget the pain she caused, the way she broke your heart and left you to pick up the pieces on your own.

“I’m glad you’ve changed,” you say finally. “But that doesn’t change what happened. And it doesn’t mean we can go back to the way things were.”

She nods slowly, her eyes dropping to the ground. “I get it,” she says. “I just… I just wanted to see you. To tell you I’m sorry.”

The sincerity in her voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. Finally, you sigh and take a step back. “Take care of yourself, Yuna.”

With that, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing there on the sidewalk. As you disappear into the crowd, you can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t the last time you’ll see her.

And deep down, you’re not sure if that thought scares you—or excites you.

The knock on your door is sudden, sharp, and entirely unexpected. You freeze mid-sip of your morning coffee, the sound cutting through the quiet hum of your apartment like a knife. Three rapid raps, followed by silence. Your eyes dart to the clock on the wall—it’s barely 8 AM. Who the hell could that be?

Setting your mug down cautiously, you make your way to the door, peeking through the peephole before opening it. And there she is: Yuna.

Your ex-girlfriend. The woman who shattered your heart into a thousand irreparable pieces years ago. She stands there, radiant as ever, her fiery red hair catching the sunlight, her lips curved into that familiar smirk that used to make your stomach flip. Now, all it does is twist into knots.

“Hey,” she says casually, as if it’s totally normal for her to show up at your doorstep after all this time. “Long time no see.”

You blink, stunned into silence. Of all the people you thought might show up unannounced at your door this early in the morning, Yuna was not on the list. “What are you doing here?” you finally manage, your voice more curt than you intended.

She shrugs, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe like she owns the place. “I live next door now. Figured I’d come say hi.” Her tone is light, almost playful, but there’s something in her eyes—something burning, intense, calculated. It makes your skin prickle.

“You live… next door?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly. This has to be some kind of joke. Or a nightmare. Either way, you don’t like it.

“Mhm,” she hums, nodding. She steps past you into your apartment without waiting for an invitation, her floral perfume lingering in the air as she moves. It’s the same scent she always wore when you were together, and it hits you like a punch to the gut. “Saw your name on the mailbox the other day. Small world, huh?”

“Small world, my ass,” you mutter under your breath, closing the door behind her reluctantly. “This isn’t a coincidence, Yuna. What are you really doing here?”

She turns to face you, her expression softening as she takes a step closer. “I told you. I’m your neighbor now. And… maybe I wanted to see you. Is that so bad?”

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, creating a barrier between the two of you. “Yeah, actually. It is. We haven’t spoken in years. Not since—” You cut yourself off, the memory of what she did still raw, even after all this time.

Her smile falters, and for a moment, she looks genuinely remorseful. “I know, Y/n. I know I hurt you. I was stupid, selfish, and I regretted it the second it happened. You have no idea how much I’ve beat myself up over it.”

“Not enough, apparently,” you snap, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice. “If you had any respect for me, you wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

She flinches at that, her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. But then she squares her shoulders and meets your gaze head-on. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t be here. But the truth is, I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. And I know you probably hate me, and maybe you should, but… I needed to try. To see if there’s any chance we could start over.”

You stare at her, your mind racing. Start over? After everything? She can’t possibly be serious. And yet, the look in her eyes tells you she is. Dead serious.

“Yuna,” you say slowly, picking your words carefully. “We’re not the same people we were back then. And even if we were, what you did… that’s not something you just ‘start over’ from.”

She nods, swallowing hard. “I know. And I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight. But… can we at least try to be civil? As neighbors? Maybe even… friends?”

The word hangs in the air between you, heavy with implications. Friends. Yeah, right. Friends don’t do what she did. Friends don’t destroy trust the way she did. And yet, looking at her now, with her wide, pleading eyes and perfectly pouty lips, it’s hard to stay mad. Harder than you want to admit.

“I don’t know, Yuna,” you say finally, sighing. “This is… a lot.”

“I get it,” she says quickly. “And I’ll give you all the space you need. But just… promise me you’ll think about it, okay? Think about us.”

Before you can respond, she steps forward, closing the distance between you. For a second, you think she’s going to kiss you—and part of you wants her to, despite everything. But instead, she simply brushes her fingers lightly against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine.

Then she’s gone, slipping out the door as quickly as she came, leaving you standing there, confused, annoyed, and—damn it—curious.

Over the next few days, Yuna becomes impossible to ignore. Every time you leave your apartment, she’s there, whether it’s in the hallway, by the elevator, or even at the gym. She’s always polite, always friendly, but there’s an underlying tension that neither of you acknowledges. A tension that grows thicker with each passing day.

Tonight, though, she crosses a line.

You’re in the middle of cooking dinner when she knocks on your door again, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a coy smile on her face. “Hi,” she says sweetly. “Thought you might want some company tonight.”

You raise an eyebrow, holding the spatula in your hand like a weapon. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” she replies, pushing past you into the kitchen. “Smells amazing, by the way. What are we having?”

“Steak,” you say automatically before catching yourself. “Wait, no. I’m having steak. You’re interrupting my dinner.”

She grins, setting the wine bottle on the counter and grabbing a corkscrew from the drawer like she belongs here. “Oh, come on. You can’t eat all that by yourself. Besides, we need to talk.”

“About what?” you ask warily, watching as she expertly uncorks the bottle and pours two glasses.

She hands you one, her fingers brushing against yours in a way that feels far too intentional. “About us. About… what happens next.”

You take a sip of the wine, mostly to buy yourself time to think. “There is no ‘us,’ Yuna. Not anymore.”

She leans against the counter, her body language relaxed but her eyes intense. “That’s where you’re wrong. There’s always been an ‘us.’ Even when we weren’t together, even when I screwed everything up… there was always something between us. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words stick in your throat because… god damn it, she’s right. There is something between you. Something electric, magnetic, undeniable. And it’s been there from the moment she showed up at your door.

But you can’t let her know that. Not yet.

Instead, you set your wine glass down and turn back to the stove, flipping the steak with more force than necessary. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Yuna.”

She laughs softly, the sound low and sultry. “Maybe. But you’ve always liked danger, remember?”

Your grip tightens on the spatula. Remember? How could you forget? She’s reminding you on purpose, and it’s working. Memories flood your mind—her hands on your skin, her lips on yours, the way she used to whisper your name in the dark.

“Dinner’s ready,” you say abruptly, plating the steak and handing her a plate. If nothing else, maybe eating will shut her up.

But as the two of you sit down at the table, the tension only grows thicker. Every glance, every brush of skin, every shared laugh sends sparks flying. By the time you finish eating, the air between you is charged, crackling with unspoken desire.

“Thanks for dinner,” Yuna says, standing up and moving closer to you. “It was… delicious.”

She’s not talking about the food, and you both know it.

You stand too, your heart pounding in your chest as she reaches out, her fingertips grazing your jawline. “Yuna,” you warn, your voice husky.

“Yes?” she whispers, her lips dangerously close to yours.

“Don’t—”

But before you can finish, she closes the gap, her mouth crashing into yours like a tidal wave.

And just like that, you’re lost.

Her lips are warm, insistent, and achingly familiar. The moment she kisses you, a flood of memories rushes back—late nights tangled in sheets, whispered promises, the way her body fit perfectly against yours. But this isn’t that time. This is now, and despite everything, your body betrays you. Your hands instinctively move to her waist, pulling her closer as if they have a mind of their own.

Yuna deepens the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm. A soft moan escapes her throat, muffled by the heat of your mouths colliding. Her fingers weave through your hair, tugging gently but firmly, sending a shiver down your spine. She pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, her breath hot and uneven, “I’ve missed you.”

The words hang in the air like a confession, raw and unfiltered. You want to push her away, to remind yourself of why you shouldn’t be doing this, but her touch is magnetic, her presence intoxicating. Your resolve wavers, crumbling under the weight of her longing.

Her hands slide down your chest, fingertips tracing the contours of your muscles through your shirt. They pause at the hem, slipping beneath the fabric, skin meeting skin for the first time in what feels like forever. Her touch ignites something deep within you, a hunger you thought you’d buried long ago.

“Yuna,” you murmur, your voice rough with desire, “this isn’t—”

She silences you with another kiss, harder this time, more desperate. Her nails dig lightly into your sides, leaving tingling trails in their wake. When she finally breaks away, her eyes lock onto yours, blazing with something you can’t quite place—need, remorse, or maybe both. “Let me show you how much I’ve missed you,” she breathes, her voice trembling with emotion.

Before you can respond, she sinks to her knees, her hands moving to the button of your jeans. Your heart pounds in your chest, the sound deafening in the quiet room. This is wrong, a small voice in the back of your mind whispers, but it’s drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears and the way her fingers work deftly to free you from the confines of your clothing.

Her breath hitches as she takes you in, her gaze lingering for a moment before she leans forward, her lips brushing against the tip of you. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through your body, your hips jerking involuntarily. She smirks up at you, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Still sensitive, huh?” she teases, her voice low and husky.

You don’t have time to respond before she takes you fully into her mouth, her tongue swirling around your length with practiced ease. A groan escapes your lips, your hands tangling in her hair as she moves with a rhythm that leaves you dizzy. Her name falls from your lips like a prayer, barely audible over the sound of her sucking you deeper, harder.

She pulls back momentarily, looking up at you through hooded lids. “Do you remember how much you used to love this?” she asks, her voice dripping with sultry anticipation. Before you can answer, she’s swallowing you again, her lips pressing tightly around you as she works her way down your shaft.

Your knees buckle slightly, the sensation overwhelming. Her hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as she bobs her head, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The wet sounds fill the room, mingling with her soft sighs and your ragged breaths. It’s messy, desperate, and utterly consuming.

As her pace quickens, so does the ache building in your core. You’re close, too close, and the realization makes your grip on her hair tighten. “Yuna, I—”

She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down. Instead, she hums around you, the vibrations making your entire body shudder. Her eyes meet yours again, and there’s a challenge in them, daring you to let go. And you do, unable to hold back any longer.

With a strangled groan, you release, her name tumbling from your lips as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. She takes it all, her tongue lapping at you greedily until you’re completely spent, your legs trembling beneath you.

When she finally pulls away, there’s a hint of mischief in her smile, along with something softer, more vulnerable. She stands slowly, her hands resting lightly on your hips as she looks up at you. “You always did taste so good,” she murmurs, her voice thick with satisfaction.

You’re still catching your breath, your mind reeling from what just happened. There’s a part of you that wants to pull her into your arms, to feel her warmth against you. But there’s also a part that feels conflicted, torn between the past and the present, between what you feel and what you know you should do.

Yuna seems to sense your hesitation. She steps closer, her body pressing against yours, her lips brushing against your neck. “I meant what I said,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I’ve missed you. More than you could ever know.”

You swallow hard, your hands hovering at her sides, unsure whether to push her away or pull her closer. “Yuna".

She leans back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes searching yours. “Don’t think too much about it,” she says softly. “Just… let me make you feel good. Like I used to.”

Her hands slide up your chest, pushing your shirt off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Her touch is gentle, almost reverent, as she traces the lines of your body. “You’re even more beautiful than I remembered,” she admits, her voice filled with awe.

Before you can respond, she’s leading you toward the couch, her movements confident yet tender. She pushes you down gently, then straddles your lap, her thighs squeezing your hips as she leans in to kiss you again. Her lips are softer this time, more deliberate, as if she’s savoring every second.

You find your hands moving without conscious thought, gripping her waist, sliding up her back, exploring every inch of her. She lets out a soft sigh, arching into your touch, her body molding against yours like it was made to fit there.

“Tell me you want this,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice trembling with need. “Tell me you want me.”

Your heart races, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. But when her hand slips between your bodies, her fingers brushing against the growing heat between her legs, your resolve crumbles completely.

You can’t find the words to respond. Not when her body is pressed so tightly against yours, not when her hand is moving with such purpose, igniting a fire deep within you that you swore had been extinguished long ago. Instead, you let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping her hips as if holding onto them will keep you from losing yourself completely.

Yuna doesn’t wait for an answer. She doesn’t need one. The way your body responds to her touch—the way you instinctively pull her closer—tells her everything she needs to know. Her lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses that make your head spin. Each kiss is deliberate, each move calculated to unravel you further.

Her fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants, brushing against the sensitive skin of your stomach. You gasp, your grip tightening on her as she lets out a soft laugh against your collarbone. There it is, you think. That sound. That laugh. It’s been so long since you’ve heard it, but it still hits you like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of your lungs and making your heart ache in ways you don’t want to acknowledge.

“Stop thinking,” Yuna murmurs, her voice low and husky. “Just feel.”

It’s easier said than done. Your mind is racing, torn between the past and the present, between anger and desire. But then her hand slips lower, her fingers wrapping around you, and all thoughts evaporate into nothingness. A moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, and Yuna smirks against your skin, clearly pleased with herself.

“That’s more like it,” she says, her breath hot against your ear. “Let me remind you what you’ve been missing.”

Before you can respond, she’s sinking to her knees in front of you, her hands working quickly to free you from the confines of your clothes. You barely have time to process what’s happening before her mouth is on you, warm and wet and impossible to resist. Your head falls back, a strangled groan escaping your throat as her tongue swirls around you, teasing and taunting in equal measure.

God, you’ve missed this. Missed her. The way she knows exactly how to drive you wild, the way she takes you apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left but raw, unfiltered sensation. Her mouth moves expertly, drawing you deeper, her hand working in tandem to heighten every touch. You can feel the pressure building, threatening to consume you, and you force yourself to hold back, not wanting this to end too soon.

But Yuna isn’t having it. She pulls away just enough to look up at you, her eyes dark with desire. “Let go,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing. “I want to hear you.”

And then she’s taking you in again, her movements faster, more urgent. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on anything other than the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you, but it’s no use. You’re powerless against her, against the way she makes you feel. Your hips buck involuntarily, and Yuna makes a soft noise of approval, encouraging you to keep going.

The tension coils tighter and tighter until you can’t take it anymore. With a cry, you come undone, your body shuddering as waves of ecstasy crash over you. Yuna doesn’t pull away, not even when you’re spent and trembling, your legs barely able to support you. Instead, she stays where she is, her lips pressing gently against your skin as if savoring the moment.

When she finally stands, there’s a look of pure satisfaction on her face. “Welcome back,” she says softly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I was starting to think I’d lost my touch.”

You let out a shaky laugh, though your mind is still reeling. “You haven’t lost anything,” you admit, your voice hoarse. “If anything, you’ve gotten better.”

Yuna grins, clearly pleased with your admission. “Practice makes perfect,” she teases, stepping closer to press a kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on her, and it only serves to deepen the ache inside you, the need for more.

She pulls away slowly, her hands trailing down your chest as she steps back. “Now it’s your turn,” she says, her voice dripping with promise. “Don’t worry—I’ll guide you.”

You’re about to ask what she means when she turns and walks toward your bedroom, her hips swaying with every step. The sight alone is enough to make your pulse quicken, and you follow after her without hesitation, your earlier reservations forgotten.

The room is dimly lit, the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. Yuna stops at the foot of the bed, turning to face you with a look that sends a shiver down your spine. Slowly, she begins to undress, each movement deliberate, each inch of skin revealed making your mouth go dry.

When she’s fully naked, she reaches for your hand, pulling you closer until you’re standing right in front of her. “Touch me,” she whispers, her voice trembling with anticipation. “Show me you remember how.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for her, your fingers skimming over her bare skin. She sighs, leaning into your touch as you explore the curves and valleys of her body, rediscovering every part of her that once felt like home. Her breath hitches when your fingers brush over her nipples, and she arches into your touch, silently urging you to continue.

You lower your head, capturing one taut peak between your lips, and she gasps, her hands tangling in your hair. Her scent surrounds you, heady and intoxicating, and you’re desperate for more. Your tongue flicks against her, eliciting another sharp intake of breath, and you can feel her pulse quickening beneath your fingertips.

“Y/n,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please…”

You know what she wants. What she needs. And you’re more than willing to give it to her.

As if on cue, the opening notes of your favorite song drift through the speakers in the corner of the room. The melody is soft and slow, filling the space with a quiet intimacy that makes the moment feel even more significant somehow. Yuna’s eyes meet yours, and there’s something in her gaze—something tender and vulnerable—that catches you off guard.

“This song,” she says, her voice shaking slightly. “It reminds me of us. Of who we used to be.”

Used to be. The words echo in your mind, stirring memories you’d tried so hard to forget. Late-night drives, stolen kisses, whispered promises of forever. All of it comes rushing back, overwhelming you with emotions you thought you’d buried long ago.

Yuna seems to sense the shift in your mood because she reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. “We’re not those people anymore,” she admits, her voice heavy with regret. “But maybe… maybe we can be something better.”

You don’t respond—you can’t. Not when your heart feels like it’s being torn in two. But then she’s guiding you toward the bed, her touch firm yet gentle, and all you can do is follow.

The sheets are cool against your skin as you lie down, your bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs and heat. Yuna’s lips find yours again, her kiss slow and languid, as if she’s trying to convey everything she can’t put into words. And for the first time since she walked back into your life, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—she’s right.

Yuna’s fingers trail down your chest, her touch light but deliberate, sending shivers through your body. She pauses at the hem of her shirt, her gaze locking with yours as if silently asking for permission. You nod, barely able to form a coherent thought, and she pulls the fabric over her head, revealing herself to you in the soft glow of the bedroom.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur, your voice thick with desire.

She smiles, a gentle curve of her lips that makes your heart ache. “Touch me,” she whispers, guiding your hands to her waist. Her skin is warm beneath your palms, smooth and inviting, and you feel the faint tremor of her breath as you slide your hands upward.

Her breasts fit perfectly in your hands, soft yet firm, and you thumb over her nipples, eliciting a soft gasp from her lips. She arches into your touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before she opens them again, their intensity burning into you.

“Don’t stop,” she breathes, her voice trembling with need.

You don’t. You can’t. Every part of you is drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, and you lose yourself in the sensation of her skin against yours. Your fingers trace the curves of her body, exploring every inch of her with a reverent touch, as if committing her to memory all over again.

Her hands move to the waistband of your pants, her fingers deftly unbuttoning them and sliding them down your legs. The cool air brushes against your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating from her body. She straddles you, her thighs pressing against your hips, and you can feel the wetness between her legs as she grinds against you.

“God, I missed this,” she moans, her head tipping back as she rocks her hips against yours. “I missed you.”

You grip her hips, guiding her movements as your own arousal builds. Her breath comes in short, shallow bursts, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she loses herself in the rhythm. Her hands grip your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin just enough to leave marks, and the sting only adds to the fire coursing through your veins.

“Yuna,” you groan, your voice rough with desperation. “I need you.”

She leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless. “Then take me,” she murmurs against your mouth. “Take me like you used to.”

Her words ignite something primal within you, and you flip her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head. She lets out a surprised laugh, quickly replaced by a low moan as you press yourself against her, your length teasing her entrance.

“Are you sure?” you ask, your voice strained with restraint.

She nods, her eyes dark with desire. “Please,” she begs, her hips lifting to meet yours. “I need you inside me.”

You don’t need any more encouragement. With a slow, steady thrust, you enter her, both of you groaning in unison at the sensation. She’s tight, her walls clenching around you as if trying to pull you deeper, and you savor the feeling of being inside her once again.

Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as you begin to move. Each thrust is deliberate, measured, designed to draw out the pleasure for both of you. Her fingers tangle in your hair, tugging gently as she gasps your name, her voice echoing in the quiet room.

“Faster,” she urges, her nails scraping down your back. “Harder.”

You oblige, increasing your pace as her pleas grow more desperate. Her hips buck against yours, meeting each thrust with equal fervor, and the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air. Her breaths come in short, ragged gasps, her body tightening around you as she teeters on the edge of release.

“Y/N… Y/N, I’m close,” she whimpers, her voice breaking as she clings to you. “Don’t stop—please don’t stop.”

You bury your face in the crook of her neck, your lips brushing against her skin as you whisper, “Let go, Yuna. I’ve got you.”

Her climax hits her hard, her body convulsing around you as she cries out your name. The sensation sends you over the edge, and with a final, powerful thrust, you spill yourself inside her, your vision blurring as waves of pleasure crash over you.

For several moments, neither of you moves, content to simply bask in the afterglow. Her fingers stroke your back, her touch tender and soothing, and you press a soft kiss to her shoulder before finally pulling away.

She looks up at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Do you remember the first time we did this?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course,” you reply, your hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “How could I forget?”

She smiles, though there’s a sadness in her expression that makes your chest tighten. “I wish things were different,” she says softly. “I wish I hadn’t hurt you.”

“We can’t change the past,” you tell her, your fingers tracing the line of her jaw. “But maybe… maybe we can start over.”

Her eyes widen, hope flickering in their depths. “Do you mean that?”

Before you can answer, she kisses you again, her lips pouring everything she can’t say into the gesture. And as you kiss her back, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this is the second chance you’ve both been waiting

The kiss deepens, her fingers tangling in your hair as if she's afraid to let you go. You can feel her trembling beneath you, a mix of hope, longing, and fear coursing through her. When you finally pull away, your foreheads rest together, your breaths mingling in the quiet of the room.

"I mean it," you say softly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. "But if we're going to start over, things have to be different, Yuna. No secrets, no lies. We need to be honest with each other-completely."

She nods quickly, her eyes searching yours as if trying to commit every detail to memory. "I promise," she whispers. "I'll do whatever it takes to make this work, Y/n. I've lost you once, and I'm not going to make the same mistake again."

Her words tug at something deep inside you, a flicker of the love you once shared beginning to reignite. But there's still a part of you that's wary, a part that remembers the pain of betrayal and the sleepless nights spent wondering what you did wrong.

"Starting over doesn't mean forgetting," you say, your tone firm but gentle. "We both need to face what happened before we can move forward. Do you understand that?"

"I do," she says, her voice steady despite the tears welling in her eyes. "And I'll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I'm serious. I'll earn back your trust, Y/n, no matter how long it takes."

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The weight of the past hangs heavy between you, but so does the possibility of something new, something better.

"Alright," you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "Let's try."

The relief that washes over her is palpable, and she throws her arms around you, holding you close as if you might slip away at any moment. "Thank you," she murmurs against your chest. "Thank you for giving me another chance."

As you hold her, you can't help but wonder if you've made the right decision. The road ahead won't be easy-rebuilding what you had will take time, patience, and an unshakable commitment from both of you. But as you feel her heart beating against yours, you realize that some risks are worth taking.

Later that night, as the two of you lie tangled together in the sheets, Yuna's head resting on your chest, she traces lav patterns on your skin with her fingertips.

"Do you ever think about the future?" she asks softly, her voice laced with a vulnerability that catches you off guard.

"Sometimes," you admit. "Why?"

She shifts slightly, propping herself up on one elbow so she can look at you. "Because I want you to be in mine," she says, her eyes shimmering with sincerity. "I know it's too soon to say things like that, but. I need you to know how I feel. You're not just a second chance for me, Y/n. You're my only chance."

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you're left speechless. But as you look into her eyes, you realize that despite everything, a part of you still loves her-still wants to believe that the two of you can build something beautiful together.

Taking her hand in yours, you press a kiss to her palm and meet her gaze. "If we're going to do this, we take it one step at a time," you say. "No rushing, no expectations. Just us, figuring things out as we go."

She smiles, a genuine, radiant smile that makes your heart ache in the best possible way. "I can live with that," she says.

And as you lie there together, the shadows of the past slowly fading into the background, you can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope—for the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t seem so uncertain after all.

The soft rays of morning sunlight stream through the curtains, painting the room in a gentle golden hue. You stretch, feeling the pleasant soreness from the night before, and glance down at Yuna, who is still curled up against you. Her fiery red hair is a mess, splayed out across the pillow, and her lips are slightly parted as she breathes softly in her sleep.

You chuckle to yourself. She looks so peaceful, almost like the Yuna you first fell in love with—before everything became complicated. Not wanting to wake her, you gently untangle yourself from her grasp and slip out of bed.

Padding to the kitchen, you open the fridge and rummage through its contents. Eggs, cheese, a few vegetables—simple but enough for a decent breakfast. As you crack the eggs into a bowl and whisk them, you can’t help but smile at the thought of her reaction.

The smell of sizzling butter and the aroma of freshly scrambled eggs mixed with melted cheese begins to fill the apartment. You chop some green onions and sprinkle them over the eggs, adding a touch of color. The satisfying sizzle echoes through the quiet space, and before long, the scent has spread to every corner of the room.

Behind you, you hear a sleepy groan, followed by the soft rustling of sheets.

“Mm… what’s that smell?” Yuna’s groggy voice floats through the air.

You glance over your shoulder to see her sitting up in bed, her hair adorably disheveled and her eyes still half-closed. She rubs at them lazily before focusing on you, a small smile spreading across her face as she watches you at the stove.

“You’re up early,” she says, her voice teasing. “And cooking? What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” you reply, flipping the eggs onto a plate. “Just thought you might be hungry when you woke up.”

She grins, propping herself up on her elbows. “You’re full of surprises, Y/n. I don’t remember you cooking much before. In fact…” She pauses, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Didn’t your cooking use to suck?”

You snort, shaking your head as you grab a couple of plates and start plating the food. “I’ve improved, believe it or not. You’d be surprised what a person can learn when they’re fending for themselves.”

“Well,” she says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up, “I guess I’ll be the judge of that.”

As she approaches the kitchen, still dressed in your oversized shirt from the night before, she leans against the counter, watching you with a playful smirk. You hand her a plate, and she raises an eyebrow as she inspects the food.

“Eggs, cheese, green onions… simple but promising,” she says, lifting a fork.

You roll your eyes. “Just eat, critic.”

She takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. Her expression shifts, and for a moment, you can’t tell if she’s impressed or just messing with you.

“Well?” you ask, leaning against the counter opposite her.

She swallows, placing the fork down dramatically before breaking into a grin. “Not bad, chef. Not bad at all. I’d give it a solid eight out of ten.”

“Eight?” you repeat, feigning offense. “What’s keeping me from a ten?”

She tilts her head, pretending to think. “Maybe it’s missing… love?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

She grins, her eyes sparkling as she takes another bite. “But seriously, Y/n, this is good. I guess you really have changed.”

Her words carry more weight than you expect, and for a moment, the playful atmosphere gives way to something deeper. She looks up at you, her expression softening.

“You’ve grown a lot,” she says quietly. “I can see it in the way you carry yourself, the way you take care of things. It’s… inspiring.”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at her words, but you shrug it off casually. “Well, I had to grow up eventually.”

Yuna reaches across the counter, her fingers brushing against yours. “I’m glad I get to see this version of you,” she says softly.

You meet her gaze, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you. The past, the present, and the uncertain future all blur together, leaving only the fragile connection you’re trying to rebuild.

“Let’s just take it one day at a time,” you say, your voice steady.

She nods, her smile warm and genuine. “One day at a time.”

And as the morning sunlight fills the room, you realize that, for the first time in a long time, the day ahead doesn’t feel so daunting.

The decision to give Yuna another chance weighs heavily on your mind, like standing at the edge of a precipice. You’re fully aware of what’s at stake—your heart, your trust, and maybe even your peace of mind. But something about her feels different this time. Or maybe it’s the part of you that never stopped loving her, hoping against hope that this time, things might be different.

The two of you start slow, agreeing to rebuild your relationship step by step. Date nights become a regular thing—dinners, quiet walks in the park, or just staying in and watching movies together. Each moment feels like a cautious dance, balancing hope and fear, love and doubt.

One evening, you’re sitting on the couch with her, a bowl of popcorn between you and an old rom-com playing on the screen. Yuna leans against your shoulder, her hand resting lightly on your thigh. It’s a quiet, domestic moment, but your thoughts are anything but calm.

“Y/n,” she says softly, her voice pulling you from your thoughts.

“Yeah?” you reply, glancing down at her.

She hesitates, her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “Do you… still think about it? What I did?”

Her question hangs in the air, heavy and unavoidable. You let out a slow breath, your eyes drifting to the TV but not really seeing it.

“Yeah,” you admit honestly. “I think about it sometimes. It’s hard not to.”

She pulls away slightly, just enough to look at you. Her eyes are filled with guilt and fear, and you can see the words she wants to say but can’t quite bring herself to voice.

“But I’m trying,” you continue, meeting her gaze. “I’m trying to let go of the past. To focus on what we have now.”

Her hand tightens on your leg, and she leans into you again, her face pressed against your shoulder. “I don’t deserve this,” she whispers. “I don’t deserve you.”

You wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer. “Maybe not,” you say lightly, trying to ease the tension. “But I’m giving you a chance anyway. So don’t mess it up.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, but you can feel the tension in her body start to ease. “I won’t,” she promises. “I swear, Y/n. I won’t mess this up.”

The days turn into weeks, and you begin to notice the subtle changes in Yuna. She’s more thoughtful now, more attentive. She goes out of her way to show you how much she cares, whether it’s through small gestures like cooking your favorite meals or leaving little notes for you to find throughout the day.

But there are still moments when doubt creeps in—when you catch her staring off into the distance with a troubled look or when a conversation reminds you of the cracks that once broke your relationship apart.

One night, as you’re lying in bed together, you decide to confront it head-on.

“Yuna,” you say, your voice cutting through the quiet.

She turns to face you, her eyes wide and questioning. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, then pause. “Actually… I just need to ask you something.”

She nods, sitting up slightly. “What is it?”

“Why now?” you ask, your voice steady but laced with curiosity. “Why come back now, after everything?”

She takes a deep breath, her hands twisting nervously in the sheets. “Because I realized how stupid I was,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I let go of the best thing that ever happened to me, and for what? A fleeting moment of… I don’t even know what. I hated myself for hurting you, Y/n. I still do. But when I saw you again, I thought… maybe this is my chance to make it right.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, raw and unfiltered. You can see the pain in her eyes, the regret that she carries with her every day.

“I can’t promise I’ll forget,” you say, your voice soft but firm. “But I’m willing to try. As long as you’re willing to put in the effort, too.”

She nods quickly, tears brimming in her eyes. “I am. I’ll do whatever it takes, Y/n. I’ll prove to you that I’m worth it.”

You reach out, cupping her face in your hands. “You don’t have to prove anything, Yuna. Just… be honest with me. Be real. That’s all I want.”

“I will,” she whispers, leaning into your touch.

As the weeks pass, you find yourself slowly letting your guard down, piece by piece. It’s not easy—trust is fragile, and the scars of the past don’t fade overnight. But with each shared laugh, each tender moment, and each promise kept, you begin to believe that maybe, just maybe, you and Yuna can make this work.

But deep down, you know you’re playing with fire. One wrong move, one misstep, and it could all come crashing down.

And yet, as you lie beside her, her head resting on your chest and her fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin, you can’t help but think that some risks are worth taking.

For now, you’ll take it one day at a time.

The day feels surreal, the kind of quiet that makes you question how you got here. Yuna is by your side, her arms wrapped around yours as you both walk the short distance from her apartment to yours, carrying the last of her belongings.

She giggles, the sound light and musical, and leans her head against your shoulder. "It feels strange, doesn’t it?" she says, her voice filled with warmth. "Moving in together after all this time… like we’ve come full circle."

You glance at her, your emotions a tangled web. Her hair is back to the soft brown shade you once adored, framing her face in a way that makes her look like the girl you fell for all those years ago. But she’s not the same, and neither are you. The ghosts of the past linger, no matter how much effort you both put into rebuilding what was broken.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, your grip tightening slightly on the bag you’re carrying. “It’s… strange.”

Reaching your apartment, you set the bags down by the door. Yuna takes a step inside, looking around with a contented smile. She turns to you, her arms outstretched, and pulls you into a hug.

“You’ve made this place feel like home,” she murmurs, her cheek pressed against your chest.

You hesitate for a moment before wrapping your arms around her, the familiar scent of her shampoo flooding your senses. “It’s home because you’re here now,” you say, the words sounding both true and heavy.

She pulls back slightly, her eyes sparkling with emotion. “I never thought I’d get this chance, Y/n. To be with you again. To… to have a family with you.”

Her hands move to her stomach, and she caresses it gently, the motion so tender it tugs at something deep within you. Your eyes follow the gesture, and for a moment, the reality of it all washes over you like a tidal wave.

A family. A future. With her.

Your gaze shifts to the wedding ring on her finger—a symbol of the promises you made, the commitment you’re trying so hard to uphold. It feels heavy, like a chain and a lifeline all at once.

Yuna notices your silence and tilts her head, her smile soft but questioning. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say after a beat, forcing a small smile. “Just… thinking about everything. About us.”

She steps closer, her hands resting on your chest as she gazes up at you. “I know it hasn’t been easy,” she says quietly. “And I know I hurt you before. But I swear, Y/n, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. To us.”

Her words are earnest, filled with a love that feels overwhelming in its intensity. You nod, though the knot in your chest remains. “I know you will.”

She smiles again, her joy infectious as she intertwines her fingers with yours. “Let’s make dinner together tonight,” she suggests, her tone light. “You can show off those cooking skills of yours again.”

You chuckle despite yourself. “Only if you promise not to criticize too much.”

“No promises,” she teases, leaning up to kiss your cheek.

As the two of you begin unpacking her belongings, the room fills with her laughter and the faint sound of music playing in the background. She moves with a lightness you haven’t seen in years, and for a brief moment, you allow yourself to believe in the happiness you’re building together.

But as you watch her carefully place a photo of the two of you on the shelf—a relic from the early days of your love—you can’t shake the mixed feelings swirling in your chest.

You want this to work. You need it to work. But the scars of the past don’t fade so easily, and the weight of what you’re risking—your heart, your trust, your future—hangs heavily in the air.

Still, when Yuna looks at you with that radiant smile, her hand resting protectively over the life you’ve created together, you can’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, you can make it work.

For now, that’s enough.

[angelovi]

Simon with a reader who has some trauma around sex, asks him to stop and scrambles off to hide in the bathroom. How would he react? I’d like some comfort please, love ya <3

Simon comforting his love that has trauma

"Missed ya, love." Simon's warm voice fills the air as he settles onto the couch beside you, wrapping his strong arms around you in a comforting embrace. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, and you feel a wave of warmth and safety wash over you as he leans in closer, a smile spreading across his face.

A soft grin spreads across your face, making your cheeks glow and your eyes sparkle. As you turn the page, the rustle of the paper fills the room.

He softly kisses your neck, moving slowly along your skin. A shiver runs down your spine, and you hold your breath, hoping he doesn’t go any further. You feel a knot of uncertainty in your stomach, reminding you of the secret you haven’t shared. Everything that happened with your ex weighs on your mind.

As he reaches for the bottom of your shirt, a wave of tension hits you, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Slowly, he starts to pull the fabric off, and the cool air hits your skin as the shirt finally comes off, leaving you feeling a bit exposed under his stare.

“Simo-” your words were cut off by a kiss as he reaches for your waistband. Before he had the option to slip your sweats off, you push him away and storm away to the bathroom, tears streaming down your cheeks as you attempt to calm yourself down.

He watches you go, confusion and concern etched on his face. He runs a hand through his hair, muttering something to himself. After a moment, he goes after you, finding you curled up on the cold bathroom floor, your shoulders shaking with each sob.

He lowers himself to his knees beside you, his muscular frame dwarfing your smaller one. With a reluctant sigh, he reaches out and cups your face.

“Don’t touch me!” you blurt out, your arms quickly going up to cover your face. A mix of panic and fear enters your voice as you squeeze into the chilly corner of the bathroom. The cold tiles press into your back, and the dim lighting casts creepy shadows that make you want to disappear into the tiny space.

Simon pulled back a bit, looking confused as he tried to figure out what had just happened. “Shh, it’s just me.” he said softly, trying to calm things down.

Your chest feels tight, and every quick breath leaves you feeling lightheaded and shaky. It’s like there’s this invisible pressure on you, making it hard to take a deep breath.

Simon’s heart breaks as he watches you hyperventilate. He shifts you to sit sideways across his lap, leaning you against his shoulder. “Slow breaths, baby. In and out. That's it..” he coaches you gently, his large hand splayed across your back to keep you supported.

As you start to regain your breath, Simon’s mind starts racing with dark thoughts. He looks down at your trembling form, his protective instincts kicking in again.

“Look at me.” he uses a finger under your chin to tilt your face upwards. “Tell me why you're crying like this.”

“My ex-” was all you managed to utter before your voice caught in your throat, the weight of the memories crashing down on you. Suddenly, tears streamed down your cheeks, a sob escaping your lips.

“Oh, baby girl. You never told me.” his voice softens more, seeing how vulnerable you are.

You bury yourself into him further, desperate for any form of comfort. One of his hands comes up to caress your hair while the other presses you closer. “Did he?..”

A nod was all he needed to understand the situation. He gently lifts you further into his arms, cradling you against his chest like a child. “I’ve got you now, baby girl. No one’s gonna hurt you again.”

He starts stroking your hair again, murmuring soothing words. “Just breathe, you're safe now.” his fingers gently massage your scalp, hoping to bring you back from the bad memories.

He begins to rock you slowly, one hand still in your hair while the other supports your upper back. You feel a quick jolt in your body as you take a deep, shaky breath, letting the air fill your lungs. You try to slow down your racing thoughts and suppress the butterflies in your chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is gentle and sweet, not wanting to trigger you any further. You quickly shake your head, so he drops the subject, nodding understandingly.

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You don't have to. Not now, not ever if you don't want to.” he continues running his fingers through your hair.

“Let's go watch a movie baby. Might help take your mind off things,” he suggests softly, his thumb brushing away a tear that slips down your cheek.

He guides you to the comfort of your shared bed before climbing in with you. “Good girl,” he utters before pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Sorry for the short and late post lol I've been trying to find motivation to post more so this is just quick and simple <3

[hearts4johnwick]

SUMMARY. 𝜗𝜚 your husband has been missing for almost two months now, yearning for him is making you relive some of your best memories.

CW. 𝜗𝜚 mentions of od’ing, fluff & angst (whose page are you in??? ofc it’s angst 👅) bold = flashbacks

A/N. 𝜗𝜚 umm i know absolutely nothing!!!about south korea or their schools, so this is purely based off of american schools bc my latina ass is not cultured on this, if yall wanna correct me or help me in some stuff, pls do! just know i’m writing this for fun tho <3

the voice of your teacher announcing a new student catches your attention, a boy with slightly longer hair stands beside her, holding onto his backpack. “this is kang dae-ho, he is transferring from seoul, and as your new classmate, you shall treat him with respect.” your eyes analyze dae-ho, he’s cute, you think. you glance over to your friend and she raises her eyebrow in a flirty manner, you smile.

“find a seat, dear.” there were plenty of seats available, but the seat beside you was the one he was eyeing the most, and you did not mind at all if he sat next to you.

the two of you make eye contact and you watch his eyebrows raise slightly, he quickly makes his way to the seat beside you. you give him a soft smile and he returns it, a soft hint of redness grows on his face.

“of course.” your friend playfully rolls her eyes and you chuckle before the teacher begins the class.

once the class finished, you head to your lockers to put away your books, in the distance you see dae-ho and your friend speaks. “you should go and talk to him, maybe we can go to the bakery after school.” you look at her and nod.

“that’s a good idea.” you walk away from your locker, your hand holding your other over your legs as you make your way toward him. dae-ho turns and his heart begins to race as if your beauty leaves him speechless, or you coming up to him caught him off guard. “dae-ho, was it?” he nods. “nice to meet you, I’m y/n.”

he smiles widely. “cute name for a cute girl.” you smile, his confidence taking you aback for a slight moment.

“thank you.” you feel your face heat up, but you brush it off. “my friend and i were wondering if you’d like to join us at the bakery right across the street after school? we usually go there for some lunch, since the lunch here is not too good.” you make a disgusted noise and scrunch your nose, he laughs and you smile.

“I’d like that,” he says and you smile.

“great. see you there. what’s your next class?” you ask him, and he tells you that it’s math, you exclaim when you look at his schedule and realize you have every single class together.

after classes finish, the three of you do as you agreed and head to the bakery. you get to know a lot about dae-ho, and you find out you have much more in common than you ever thought. he’s energetic and kind, and you admire that.

“so, do you have any plans after graduation?” you ask him, breaking the silence your friend left you both in after her mother came to pick her up.

he hums, taking his time thinking what to say. “joining the marines is a good idea.” you raise an eyebrow. “but, apart from that—i’d love to marry a pretty girl, maybe start a family with her, maybe move back to the city, or move to costa rica, i’ve seen pictures and i think it’s the most beautiful place i’ve ever seen.” you can’t help but smile at his plans, they’re quite nice. “and you?” he asks you your question.

“i want to become a veterinarian. i love animals so much, i’ve rescued some! dogs and cats!”

“what do you do after? do you keep them?” he questions.

“oh no no! i’m allergic to cats, i just send them to a shelter or put them up for adoption. when animals stay in shelters too long they sometimes kill them, and i hate that. i wish i could keep every animal i rescue, but ive only kept two dogs, two german shepherds.”

dae-ho laughs. “remind me not to mess with you, then.” you laugh at his joke.

“yeah, don’t.” you suck on your bottom lip and look at him. “but, apart from becoming a veterinarian, I’d also like to marry a handsome guy, and maybe start a family, although, I’m alright with dogs—how many kids do you want?”

“i want 4.” your breath hitches, and you grimace, you’re acting as if you’re gonna be the mother, but, you couldn’t help it.

“your poor wife.” you place your lips into a thin line. you two share a short laugh and continue to get to know each other.

you and dae-ho grew fond of each other in only 3 months, he was even walking you to your house, no matter the fact that his house was nearly 20 minutes from yours.

one night, you and dae-ho stand in your front steps, before you say goodbye, he grabs your hand and caresses it softly. “y/n.” he begins, he has all of your attention. “why don’t we… take a break from the bakery and go to an actual restaurant…maybe tomorrow?” he pauses between his words, thinking thoroughly about what he’s saying. when he sees your expression soften, he knows it’s going great.

“i’d love to.” you smile widely and place a hand on his cheek gently. the two of you share a sweet moment, he said he’ll text you the details, and you dismiss him with a kiss on the cheek and the blood rushing to his cheek makes your heart flutter.

one date led to another, and then another, after that, another one, until it became a weekly thing. when the two of you graduated, he quickly went off to the marines, and you were proud of him for that, he could do what he wished for, but you were terrified at the same time, terrified that one day he might not come home, and the thought of that destroyed you.

him coming back home permanently meant everything to you, you thought that maybe you could start a family now, you were at a fine age, you were married and financially stable, your job was paying you very well, and so was, dae-ho’s, but now that he’s back—forever now, that might change—and, it did.

you turn sideways on your bed, your hand brushes the cold spot next to you, it’s empty, you don’t like that feeling at all, it makes you feel empty. you remember the moments when dae-ho kept you warm, the times after intimate moments when you would just lay in his chest, staring into his eyes, or simply when you would fall asleep in each other’s arms.

you check the time, and it’s 2:34 am, you sigh and stare at your ceiling, and you start to feel tears pooling in your eyes. you stand from your bed and head over to the closet. there, you take one of dae-ho’s jackets and hug it, as if he was wearing it as if you were hugging him. his scent made your heart ache, this was the closest you’d been to him in almost two months.

you sob your heart out as you slide down the wall, softly murmuring his name like a prayer, hoping he’ll hear you.

your finger softly curls dae-ho’s hair, and the two of you admire each other in the spotlight, his hand on your hip and yours on his shoulder, sharing the prom king and queen dance.

“prom king, huh?” you raise an eyebrow.

“no thanks to you, prom queen.” he chuckles and you roll your eyes.

“what’s a king without his queen?” dae-ho raises his eyebrows and nods. “this is so embarrassing, i hope they’re not looking—or looking at you.” you chuckle.

“no, trust me. they’re looking at you.” your eyes light up, and your face gets hot, but you don’t know if it’s because of embarrassment or his compliment. “you look unbelievable tonight, y/n. i can’t imagine you on our wedding day.” he says, your mouth opens and your heart flutters, god, you cannot wait to marry him, he’s all you’ve ever wished for, you don’t care that he’s your first love, you think he’s the love of your life—you know he is, and that’s what matters, not what people think.

“i love you.” your confession catches him off guard, he’s said it before, but you never said it back, only ‘me too’ but the words ‘I love you’ have never come out of your mouth, and even though you’ve been wanting to say it ever since the moment you laid eyes on him, something has been stopping you, but you knew it was about time.

“i love you more,” he says back, and you smile widely. you embrace each other, but continue your dance until it concludes.

shortly after graduation, the two of you decided that after dae-ho serves his time in the marines, you’d get married—and so you did. your wedding was beautiful, it was intimate, with only two or three family members from dae-ho’s side, for obvious reasons, and almost your whole family tree.

your family loved dae-ho as if he was their own, and that made you feel very grateful, dae-ho had a rough childhood, and seeing him get the love he never had growing up was better than anything you could ever ask for.

the day of your marriage was truly the happiest day you’ve ever been, and let’s not even talk about the night. from then on, you appreciated every single moment with dae-ho, you always have, but you’re treasuring them even more now. the two of you began to travel, you started with costa rica, of course, and so on—you went to some places such as japan, tennessee, bali, dominican republic, and all of europe, you’d hope that between this year and next, you can finish traveling the caribbean because dae-ho loves the caribbean and the beaches.

you had planned for the bahamas on your next trip, but this is around the time when your husband was struggling, and when he turned up missing.

dae-ho has been missing for almost two months, he just vanished into thin air, he didn’t leave you a note, or a text message, he just… left. and you missed him dearly, you thought these months as an eternity, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

the orange bottle of full pills was tempting you—you wanted to end this pain, you wanted to end it now. he could end it, if he would just show up on the doorstep, just him, you don’t even want flowers or a gift, you just need him, or the other reason to end it is to just not keep living.

why would you need to keep living? the reason you are hasn’t been here with you these days—you have no reason to keep living, so why not just finish it?

your brother found you, he took you in his arms, sobbing and calling out your name. the bright hospital light was bothering you, your vision was blurry and your heartbeat was steady, slower than usual, but it was still beating, and that was the important thing.

the cold, dry air of the hospital made you feel sicker as if you were actually dead. you had your eyes closed when you felt a familiar, warm touch in your hand. you try your best to open your eyes, but your vision is still blurry.

“dae-ho?” you croak, a drop of wetness rolling down your cheek in pain. you hear no answer, so you don’t know if you’re hallucinating, or dreaming, but you cry.

you had thought that maybe—maybe he’d been back, oh, god you wish he’d been back, just so that you could spend the time you have left with him—but one thing is for sure, and it’s that you’ll soon be seeing him, whether that would be in the flesh, or the after life, is still to be decided.

❛ i wish i could live without you

but you’re a part of me. ❜

[princessleechan]

special treatment (m) - EPILOGUE: chapter 20 + written chapter 18+

Chapter list

🖊️Chapter tags: MDNI, mentions of drinking, office au, secretary au, misunderstandings, mentions of insecurity and harrassment, virgin!mingyu, one sided rivalry, grump x sunshine, grump!reader, shy sunshine!mingyu, valentines weekend, birthday boy!seokmin, seokmin tantrums, mingyu mia, booseok antics, (w.c. 1.1k) [smut tags: references to oral sex, explicit language, ect.]

🖊️Tag list: @tomodachiii @humankimbap @aaniag @odevote118 @minwonwoozi @ateez-atiny380 @chisskaa @ninigyuuu @sarcasticsweetlara @bemybabiibish @blaycke @lirtha97 @kwanisms @nebulousbookshelf @gyubakeries @btsdomination @gyuguys @okiedokrie-main @jrinbb @lexyraeworld @armycarat2612 @cherrylita @jhornytrash @alyssa19123456 @chanichanvhan @minhosprettywife @jeon1w @perfectiondazesworld @skittlez-area512 @bmo-bri @blvked19 @leechansprincess @livixcore @jihoonsbbygirl @darlingz99

“It’s your phone.”

“Let it go off.”

You let out airy chuckles at his response until he reconnected your lips, silencing you instead of answering the nuisance in the background. He pulled you closer, plunging deeper into your heat as your plush walls hugged and crushed around his cock as heavenly as the first night you spent together. Moans slipped past your closed lips as his hand cushioned your flushed hips and breasts, cradling your body in his lap as his legs closed around you in a tucked embrace. You swooned, feeling his lips hum on your pricked skin in incessant kisses, smothering you in a sweltering fire that burned as bright as the sun you’d see rising every morning of almost every weekend spent together.

Meanwhile, the phone’s vibration persisted, buzzing against the thick wood of his bedside table and taking your attention away from your boyfriend hopelessly worshipping you at day's end. You sighed; a gray cloud of concern floated above your head as you could not ignore the unceasing sequence of vibrations from the device resonating as another followed suit soon after.

“I think it’s your friends,” you whispered against his swollen lips.

“Probably,” he mumbled with a soft chuckle.

You combed through his hair as he landed a sharp thrust up into you. Your mouth gaped open as a loud mewl was forced out of your throat, while your legs anchored around him for support. “You don’t want to check?” You weakly replied.

“Kind of busy with something more important right now. Plus, who needs friends?”

You shook your head, smiling, before melting against him as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, whimpering as you felt him latching his lips against your skin, attacking you intoxicatingly. “They’re the only people you talk to besides me,” you reminded him in dreamy sighs.

“Exactly, I have you. I only need you.”

You gave him a soft smile, cupping his cheek. “Gyu…”

“You’re just proving my point, baby.” He groaned, squeezing the meat of your ass in his hands and swelling your heart in your chest. “I could stay here forever.”

“We have to eat sometime.”

“I thought I’d have an exclusive lifetime subscription for between your legs,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

You scoffed, nudging him off. “What about me?”

He patted his chest. “You have a 24-hour personal chef at your service right before you, and I’ll have Instacart on speed dial.”

You pushed a long strand behind his ear. “I don’t think that’s how Instacart works.”

“I know. I just thought it sounded cooler.”

You trailed the tip of your nose over the bridge of his. “Okay. What about this? We finish up this round and then call your friends back, hmm? It could be important.” 

He leaned back slightly, softly pouting. “More important than our Valentine's weekend?”

“Who knows?”

He relented with a sigh. “Fine. After this round then,” he agreed before pushing you flat down against the mattress and erupting you both in a fit of giggles.

These eight months have been the most amazing months you've had in a long time. You didn’t ever think that you could enjoy life as much as you did with Mingyu. You’ve learned sides of each that neither of you got to see outside of work, and in turn, fell harder than you ever did before—making it more difficult to see your lives without each other. And now at the end of every workday, there was always something to look forward to while he was there sitting right across from you, thinking the same thing. You’ve spent nearly every waking moment together, not always in paradise, but together, and you couldn’t ask for anything better.

Mingyu made the most of that final round, holding you against him like a lifeline with no room to breathe as every inch of him took part in making you feel every ounce of stamina he had left in him. The way his fingers delicately danced through your hair, the gentle squeeze of your waist, the way he inhaled your essence as if it were the sweetest flower—a ritual he'd performed countless times, yet he performed it every time as if it were the first. Every tender touch, every stolen glance ignited a spark within you, a warmth that blossomed into an all-consuming fire, leaving you breathless in his presence. With his lips on yours, in a room that witnessed many intimate moments you’ve shared, you exchanged breaths like currency as the air filled with the symphony of your resounding pleasure.

“Mmh, I’m close, Gyu…” you whined, gripping onto him.

He swiped your sweat-drenched hair over your face, kissing your forehead. “I’ve got you, Baby, just hold on, hmm?”

You nodded, feeling the dam that much closer to bursting, your resistance futile. “Fuck…I’m cumming…”

His thrusts hastened, a burst of energy striking through him as he rammed himself against you at an insatiable pace as he chased after his climax just within reach as he witnessed yours, feeling his on the tip of his tongue. “Ah-ah-ah—I love you!” The thrusts abruptly halted as your legs twitched with residuals of your release, and for a pregnant pause, you just sat processing the words that had blurted out of his mouth.

“You love me?” you repeated, panting as your eyes fluttered frantically in his startled expression.

“I do,” he confirmed with a hard swallow. “I love you. Is that—“

“I love you too.” You pulled him back in with a searing kiss, pushing your full force as you put all your might into pressing your body back into him. You arched into him and snapped your hips against him as he crashed his hips back, his embrace was tight and filled with the desperation expected of a man deeply in love.

“I love you,” he repeated against your lips, relief and joy built up inside as cum began to pour out of him. Aching between his legs, he clamped your thighs against his side, pushing your hips into the mattress before taking deep, sharp strokes to hear you scream his name. You were wet before, but after climaxing, you were dripping in honey, squelching every time your skin collided. He reveled in every detail, making it a core memory, and overwhelmed with his findings, he said it again. “I love you.”

And again, only this time he’d say it with every thrust, feeling his nerves on fire with every declaration. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—”

It felt endless until his hips finally stilled in exhilaration and your lips melted on top of one another. You both mumbled those same words again to each other, committing to memory that these were the first of many 'I love you's,' and blissed out together in bed knowing it was far from the last.

“…Oh, your phone.”

“Oh, shit. What time is it?”

They did eventually get back to Mingyu’s friends, eventually, but not without a crying Seokmin on the other line.

[bingbongsupremacy]

Pretend Date

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warning: slight reader insecurity

Summary: Peter likes MJ. You really like Peter. When Peter asks you to pretend to be his date to a party to make MJ jealous, at first you're hesitant. You end up giving in and agreeing. After all, how bad could it really be?

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□□

I should’ve known something was up the second Peter Parker sat down next to me at lunch, his face scrunched in the same way it did whenever he was overthinking—eyebrows furrowed, lips pressed together, and one of his hands fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater. He looked nervous, which wasn’t uncommon. Peter was always nervous.

But Peter was nervous around me, which wasn’t normal.

"Hey, uh, can I ask you something?" he said, pushing his food around his tray. His brown eyes flickered up to meet mine, then darted away just as fast.

I swallowed my bite of sandwich. "That depends. Is it about physics? Because if so, I’d like to remind you that I barely passed the last test, and I am not the study partner you want."

His lips quirked up for a second before he shook his head. "No, it’s, um, something else. It’s kind of a favor?"

Peter Parker, my best friend, the boy I had been quietly in love with since freshman year, was asking me for a favor. That was dangerous. Because if he asked me for anything—literally anything—I would probably do it, no questions asked.

"Okay…" I said slowly, setting my food down and shifting to face him fully. "What’s up?"

His fingers drummed against the table, and I could practically hear his heartbeat speeding up. Finally, he sucked in a sharp breath and blurted out, "Would you be my date to Flash’s party?"

I blinked. "Your what now?"

"My, uh—my date. To Flash’s party. This weekend. As in, like, we go together. You and me." His words tumbled over each other like he was trying to outrun his own embarrassment.

My brain short-circuited. I had spent so many years pining after this boy, replaying every moment he smiled at me, convincing myself that was all it would ever be. And now he wanted to go to a party together? As a couple?

It was too good to be true.

And, as always, it was.

"Peter," I said carefully, already feeling my stomach twist in warning. "Why?"

His head snapped up, eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights. "What—why? I mean—why not?"

I sighed. "Peter."

He groaned, running a hand through his already-messy curls. "Okay, okay. Look, it’s—it’s stupid, okay? But MJ’s going."

There it was. The punch to the gut.

MJ.

I forced my face to stay neutral, even as my heart dropped into my stomach.

"You want to make MJ jealous," I said flatly.

"No!" he said quickly, then winced. "Well, maybe? I don’t know. I just—she and Brad are kinda, y’know, a thing now, and I—look, I just need her to see me as… something else. Like, maybe if she sees me with you, she’ll—I don’t know. Notice me?"

Ouch.

I let out a short, humorless laugh, glancing down at my hands. My nails were chipped, and I had bitten them too much again.

"Peter," I started, my voice quieter now. "You don’t have to prove anything to MJ."

"I know," he groaned, slumping forward against the table. "But—ugh, I’m such an idiot."

Yes, he was. But not for the reason he thought.

Because he was blind.

Blind to the way I looked at him. Blind to the way my heart ached every time he talked about MJ like she was the sun and stars, when I would’ve set the whole galaxy on fire just to make him smile.

I wasn’t MJ. I wasn’t small or effortlessly cool or mysterious. I was… just me. Too much in some ways, never enough in others.

And yet, as I stared at Peter, his face full of hope—hope that I could give him something—I caved.

Because I always would.

"Okay," I said finally.

He perked up. "Wait—really?"

I smiled, even though it hurt. "Yeah. Let’s go be disgustingly in love at Flash’s party."

Peter beamed. "You’re the best."

Right.

The best.

But never enough.

It turned out that playing Peter Parker’s fake girlfriend was harder than I thought.

First of all, I wasn’t exactly comfortable at parties. Flash’s house was massive, filled with way too many people, all of them effortlessly cool in a way that made my insecurities bubble up like a shaken soda.

Second, pretending to be Peter’s girlfriend was… dangerous.

Because Peter, being the absolute menace that he was, was really committing to the act.

His arm stayed wrapped around my waist. He whispered jokes in my ear that made me laugh so hard I had to lean into him. And every time we locked eyes, I swore my heart tried to escape my ribcage.

To everyone else, it must’ve looked so real.

To me, it was torture.

"Hey," Peter murmured, tugging me a little closer as we stood in the kitchen. "You doing okay?"

I nodded, even though the lump in my throat begged to differ. "Yeah, just… parties aren’t really my thing."

He smiled, eyes soft. "Yeah, same."

Liar. He wasn’t miserable. He had a goal.

I could feel it, the moment MJ and Brad walked into the room.

Peter tensed. His fingers twitched against my waist.

And then, before I could react, his hand slid up to cup my face—gently, carefully, like I was something fragile.

"Pete—"

He kissed me.

It wasn’t long. It wasn’t dramatic.

But it broke me.

Because it was soft and warm, and his lips pressed against mine like he meant it. And for those few, fleeting seconds, I let myself believe it was real.

The moment Peter pulled away, I knew I was in trouble.

Because I wasn’t breathing.

I couldn’t breathe.

His lips were gone, but the ghost of his touch lingered, the warmth of his palm still cupping my cheek like I was something precious. Like I was his.

But I wasn’t.

Because the moment his eyes flicked over to MJ—just a quick glance, barely a second—I felt the floor beneath me crack.

Of course.

The kiss wasn’t for me.

It was for her.

And yet, despite the hurricane of emotions storming inside me, I still smiled like it was nothing. Like my heart wasn’t currently bleeding out on Flash’s ridiculously expensive marble floors.

I forced myself to speak, but my voice came out thin. "Did it work?"

Peter turned back to me, blinking like he’d forgotten I was there. "What?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat and jerked my head toward where MJ and Brad were standing by the counter. "Did it work? Is she looking?"

Peter hesitated, then glanced over again.

MJ’s expression was unreadable, her lips pursed as she sipped from her red solo cup. Brad was saying something to her, but she wasn’t listening. She was watching us.

Peter let out a breath. "Yeah," he murmured, a strange sort of relief washing over his face. "I think so."

And that was my cue.

I stepped back, untangling myself from Peter’s grip. His arm, once snug around my waist, fell away like a rope being cut. The absence of his touch left a hollowness behind, and I hated myself for missing it.

"I need some air," I mumbled, already turning away before I could see his reaction.

I pushed through the crowd, weaving past drunk classmates and the pounding bass of some overplayed pop song. The front door was too far, so I ducked out onto the balcony instead.

The night air was cold against my overheated skin, but I welcomed it. It was better than the suffocating weight of pretending.

I leaned against the railing, gripping the cool metal with both hands as I tried to steady my breathing.

I was so stupid.

Of course Peter didn’t mean it. Of course it wasn’t real.

I was just a stand-in. A prop in his mission to win over MJ.

And the worst part?

I let him do it.

I let myself hope.

The sound of the door creaking open behind me made me tense.

Then—

"Hey."

Peter.

Of course.

I clenched my jaw, schooling my expression before turning to face him. "Hey."

He hesitated in the doorway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. His hair was messier than usual, like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times.

"You okay?" he asked.

I forced a laugh. "Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?"

Peter stepped closer, his brows knitting together. "I don’t know. You just… ran out of there pretty fast."

I shrugged, looking away. "Just needed some air."

A beat of silence. Then—

"Was it the kiss?"

My stomach dropped.

I looked at him sharply, my heart thudding in my ears. "What?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting on his feet. "I mean, I—I didn’t think it would freak you out or anything, but if it did—"

"Freak me out?" I repeated, a bitter laugh bubbling up before I could stop it. "No, Peter, it didn’t freak me out. I just—" I exhaled sharply, running a hand over my face. "God, you really don’t get it, do you?"

Peter blinked. "Get what?"

My hands curled into fists at my sides. The words were clawing up my throat, demanding to be said, but if I let them out—if I told him—then everything would change.

And I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.

But wasn’t I already suffering?

Wasn’t I already breaking my own heart every time I watched him look at MJ like she was the only girl in the world?

At least this way, it would be over.

I inhaled deeply, steeling myself.

"Peter," I said, my voice quieter now. "You better than anyone should know what it feels like to be in love with someone who doesn't feel the same."

His lips parted slightly, confusion flickering across his face. "What—"

"What you're going through with MJ, I'm going through with you!"

The air between us went still.

Peter’s face slackened, his brown eyes searching mine. "What?"

My heart was hammering. My fingers dug into the railing, my breath unsteady.

"I like you, Peter," I said, the confession cracking in my chest like thunder. "I have for years. And you—you kissed me, and for a second, I let myself believe that maybe—maybe it meant something. But it didn’t, did it?" I swallowed, my throat burning. "It was just for her."

Peter’s eyes widened. "No—"

"It’s fine," I cut in, forcing a tight smile even as my vision blurred. "Really. I knew what this was. I just—I guess I didn’t realize how much it would hurt." Panic rises in my chest. I just messed this up. What if he doesn't want to be friends anymore? " We just need to forget about this. I'm sorry for making this so fucking awkward. We-we can just pretend this didn't happen, alright? You go back to liking MJ and I'll be the supportive friend." I try to patch the situation.

Peter was staring at me, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something—anything—but nothing came out.

I push myself away from the railing. "I should go."

I turned toward the door, but before I could take a single step-

"Wait."

His hand caught mine.

I froze.

"Don’t," he said, his voice strained. "Please, just—don’t go. We need to talk about this."

I hesitated, my pulse pounding beneath his fingertips. Slowly, I turned back to him.

Peter’s expression was wrecked. His eyes were wide and desperate, his grip on my hand tightening.

"I’m an idiot," he breathed, shaking his head. "God, I’m an idiot."

I frowned. "Peter—"

"I didn’t kiss you for MJ."

The words knocked the breath from my lungs. "What?"

Peter’s fingers curled around mine, like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go. His eyes were so earnest, so real, and I was terrified.

"I kissed you because I wanted to," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because I—God, I don’t even know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, it stopped being about MJ. It stopped being about anyone else." He exhaled shakily, squeezing my hand. "It’s just you."

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

"You," Peter repeated, softer now. "It’s always been you."

My heart stuttered.

Then, before I could second-guess it—before I could run—I surged forward, crashing my lips into his.

And this time, it was real.

[w1shfullthink1ng]

so i have another request based on another song, the man who can’t be moved by the script. so maybe something of reader and nika breaking up for wtv reason and one of them is desperate to get them back??

THE WOMAN WHO CAN’T BE MOVED

nika mühl x fem!reader (dual pov)

DESCRIPTION/ Nikas busy schedule became all too much leading to a messy break up, despite everything her absence made your heart clench. Maybe it was for the best..or maybe it just wasn’t the right time.

WARNINGS/ language, angust, happy ending!

this is shorter than I intended & not proof read…😔🙂

IT WAS LATE NIGHTS LIKE THIS…where you missed nika the most. The moonlight, the stars, the streetlights. It reminded you of when y’all first where in that friends with tension stage.

FLASHBACKS 2 YEARS AGO…

Laughter filled the cool night air as you and nika where on a late night walk. “You know I love the feeling of the night..I like watching cars pass which is why I love walking this street so much.” you smiled at her words “Yeah..it’s so crazy to think how everyone lives their own life’s you know? like everyone experienced today differently.” you continued to go own about your perspective, she admired you while you spoke. “Nika?” you giggled “a penny for your thoughts?” you nudged her, she shook her head laughing softly. “You’re just so beautiful..your brain is just as pretty as your face…..I love that about you”

END OF FLASHBACK. CURRENT DAY..

You where standing on that same side walk watching cars pass & counting stars. You have gone to this spot where you and nika used to walk every. single. day since the break up. You felt stupid at times for missing her so much like this especially since you where the one to break it off but walking this street has become apart of your routine you couldn’t break off.

This was one of the only things you still had left of her and you where holding onto it for dear life. A part of you knew deep down that you where waiting for her..if she changes her mind this is the first place she will go.

you knew before hand getting in a relationship with her, that it wasn’t gonna be easy all the time especially around basketball season. Basketball is her whole life and her main focal point as well as a big reason she moved to the u.s in the first place, you just didn’t think it would consume her.

You where truly happy for her and when y’all where still in the honeymoon stage it was love. y’all truly love..loved?..each other. But it got to a point where she was never there. The practices, the games, the press conferences she gave so much of herself to the game, her team, the fucking reporters but by the time she came home to you her energy was gone and then she’d wake up give you a kiss and it was a constant cycle.

you run your hands through trying to remember that you did what you had to do. Y’all’s relationship was barley even enough to call it one when basketball season came around. It was always hot and cold with her and you couldn’t take it. But even now you know when she was there she made you feel like the only girl in the world even if it was just for those few minutes to hours you had her. But was it really worth all the late lonely nights, the fights, the constant second guessing?.

NIKAS POV

it’s officially been 2 months since the break up. I’ve tried to convince myself that what me and her had was over and that i’d been fine. But i just can’t shake the fact of believing that it’s really over between us. I mean how can I move on when i’m still in love her?. Basketball season is starting up again & i feel fucked i quite honestly haven’t been able to focus or play as well. This has effected me more than i admit. I mean we were together almost 2 fucking years now what? they’re gone just like that?

“Mühl.” I was brought out of my trance as my coach calls me out “get your head in the game, what’s gotten into you? you’re missing lay ups that practically fall right into your hands..i know this is just a scrimdge but you can’t play like this at our first game of the season. Our first game sets us up for the whole season. Now either fix your priorities or I just can’t put you on the court if you’re not ready..not when you can’t shoot the ball.”

I try to control myself but i was already on the brink of losing it. Stressed is an understatement for what i was feeling. I take a deep breath “I just need a minute.” before he could reply i was out. I let the cool air hit my face. I didn’t just need a minute i needed her.

It was like i couldn’t control myself i started walking towards that sidewalk we used to walk everyday. I haven’t walked here since..it’s like my heart was subconsciously leading me there. I had to get over this. over her. but i can’t. how could i?

then that’s when my heart physically started to hurt was i imaging this? no. she’s here. she’s real. and i see her. holy shit it’s just like seeing her for the first time.

YOUR POV

Seeing nika again after 2 months felt like time had froze. “nika?..” “hey..”she breaths out. Both of y’all didn’t really know what to feel. You clear your throat being unable to handle the awkward silence. “I-“ “I still love you. I’m sorry..” she blurted out before you finished your sentence.

“what?..” then like such a movie cliche it started to rain like it was on cue. “you heard me..i love you..i never stopped and i know i never was the best to you and i regret it everyday.” you felt pent of anger, pain, happiness & relief all hit you at the same time

“no nika stop-“ but she didn’t “I’m so sorry i didn’t savor you when i had you i lost my remarkable girl my baby my everything.” “this isn’t fair you can’t just-“ you where unable to fight back the tears from streaming down your cheeks, she cupped your face wiping your tears unable to keep back her own tears from escaping.

“I always thought you where the most beautiful person inside & out..anyone that meets you can’t not fall in love with you..even if it’s just a little, you’re like a shot of espresso you’re the creamer in my coffee making everything so sweet..and i know how cliche this all sounds but i love you damn it!”

you slammed your lips onto hers not caring that y’all where both soaking wet from the pouring rain. “I love you too you idiot” you breath out against her lips she smiles letting out a breathy laugh “theres my girl..”

after that moment with the rain and all you swear the stars & moon all smiled shinning a little brighter just for the two of you.

A/N

hi lovelies!! i missed you guys so so so much! but writers block got me y’all 😖 born to be writing silly little fics forced against my will to write argumentative essays (if it’s not an angry love confession i don’t wanna write it)

guess how many times i made a gracie reference in here MUHAHHAHA also this was shorter than i intended but this has been sitting in my drafts and I didn’t wanna keep holding out of y’all so here you guys are finally getting fed🙂‍↕️

THANK YOU ANON for this wonderful request it was mwah! chefs kiss as always. I absolutely adore this song it’s officially been added to my playlist & on repeat

thanks for reading, love you always

WISH SIGNING OFF🪽

[cherrydipp]

hi guys heres my melvin dipp headcanons cuz i cant remember if i ever posted them. been accumulating them for a while now so ignore the poor quality its normally just me ranting whenever i had a thought

- originally tried out for the football but didn’t make it. instead, he joined the track team hence why ponyboy is his number 1 opp.

- brings up sergei whenever he can. “nobody even likes you melvin 😒😒” “SERGEI DOES. 😡” whenever he isn’t around he also accidentally mentions their inside jokes only to be met with pure silence while he laughs by himself… “ts wasnt even funny” “SERGEI IS THE ONYL 1 WHO GETS IT 😡😡😡😡”

- in modern day would be an ipad kid. blockblast brainrotted. bullies kids on fortnite squads gamechat. he tried to play COD but ended up crying when all the grown male adults bullied him in gamechat

- light freckles around his nose and cheeks (very few and VERY light)

- was gifted a pickup line book as a gag gift one year for his birthday… would use the cheesy lines on ace but SERIOUSLY. like hes leaning against the wall and mewwing just to say “if you were a fart, i’d clench you so hard to never let you go 😏” she stared at him in disgust.

- tagteams chet with sergei.

- more outgoing/extroverted but this isn’t necessarily a good thing.

- nevel papperman coded…

- MELVIN DIPP. i whole heartedly stand by melvin being trips younger brother. it’s the reason he tags along every now and then with the socs. seen by them sort of how steve sees ponyboy i’d assume like a tag-a-long. (Brie Leftwich is diaBOLICAL for leading people to believe melvin is chet’s little brother. that’s his OPP!)

- seth from superbad variant

- would have some weird fuck ass pet because his grandma doesn’t want fur everywhere. probably a bird or a gecko.

- melvin is actually dying to be like trip and his friends. he acts annoyed when his grandma makes him go out with trip (hands in pockets puffing out his cheeks WHY) but in reality he’s secretly excited. even if that means he’s just going to be either picked on or ignored the entire time.

- gumball waterson scream: full of voice cracks and high pitched yet hitting puberty scream

- trip when all he can see when he looks melvin is himself despite them being from different dads and looking nothijg alike. its his mannerisms and the way hes become to dependent on cigarettes to get him buzzed reminds trip of himself and alcohol 😴😴😴😴 sinilar bruises blooming over his ribs and cheeks a tell tale sign that hes been getting into fights he cant win 😴😴😴 worrying that the younger is gonna end up in the newspaper the next morning cuz hes digging himself a grave

- melvin has a lisp. he was born with it and did the public school speech classes which somewhat worked but his progress all went to waste cuz of his teeth. he had originally messed up teeth — not to bad but it was bad enough where he had to get it fixed. so when he got braces they literally FUCKED him over. being teased left and right by bob and the others, making fun of his mouth full of metal. not to mention his lisp was still lingering so it just added on. when he finally got them off, he thought he was free at last… little did he know he would have to wear a retainers at night so his teeth don’t revert back. HOWEVER. his grandma FORCES him to wear it ALL THE TIME cuz she’s so worried about all the money she put into those “pearly whites” going to waste. so he has a more noticeable lisp (than he already did because he had one growing up) because of the metal retainer. which, of course, the socs all poke fun at him for. especially when hes pissing them off.

chet: “melvin ‘thut’ the fuck up you ‘thupid’ bitch”

melvin: “😥”

- most definitely one of his weak points. he shuts up as soon as it’s mentioned and his ears/face turn red. FURROWING HIS EYEBROWS. this guy mad ash!!!

- alvin chipmunk variant

- kevin g variant

- gumball waterson variant

- xyler (cosmic earth trip) variant

- sergei and melvin = kurt and ram

- slightly fraser wrwwr coded… very very very slightly……..

- GREG HEFFLEY VARIANT.

- prefers math over reading. he doesn’t really have the attention span to sit around and read a whole novel or scan articles to find evidence. plus, the teacher’s lessons go by soooo slow. math just comes easy to him to the point where he doesn’t need to study and can still achieve a passing grade.

- his eyebrows are permanently furrowed. its so bad boy why do you always look mad as HELL. most of the time it’s pretty subtle but his go to reaction face is DISGUSTED. why are you so judgeMENTAL BOY.

- he would be team logan paul

- tends to jump/threaten greasers who are bigger than him. he thinks he’s tough — thinks he can take them all on his own without anyone’s help, but of course in the end he’s wrong. trip ends up searching around town to find him lying in the lot or in some dingey alley bruised with dried blood on his face. he doesn’t know exactly the reason why he always needs to fight. he just does. it’s an urge that he can’t sustain. maybe it’s to prove something about himself, or to relieve some stress, but glory even Melvin doesn’t know why he’s so reckless. doesn’t know why he ignored Trip’s stern demand to stay home, or why he runs into the rumble. afterward, however, trip checking on melvin after the rumble as he sleeps like peaking his head in and stuff too make sure hes alright 😴😴😴 he was the one to fix him up and tend to his wounds and had been not so silently freaking out the entire time, guilt for the situation coming out in his frustration as melvin continues to tell him he doesnt need help 😴😴😴

- sergei and melvin bromosexual they joke around like regular highschool boys.

- personally, i don’t think ace likes melvin back especially with the way tilly and melody make it out to be. it’s just like a teen boy crush (celebrity crush almost really in a sense), so he’s trying to hit her up and she just glares at him before turning away. he would definitely tell sergei about her though and how he finds her attractive.

- very set on ponyboy and melvin parallels. both on the track team, both strained relationship with their older brother, both no parents, etcetc. also both are CHRONIC smokers. but for different reasons. MELVIN IS NOT THE END OF THE CYCLE. (read dipp brothers lore in case you don’t know). sergei HATES when he smokes strictly because of the smell. it’s terrible and it always lingers on the blond’s clothing.

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 9

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 400

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Monday evening. I was still in the office, having set my files aside. Should I send her an email? She had mentioned it in the heat of the moment, fueled by alcohol. In fact, all of our playful exchanges had happened under the influence. We couldn’t very well drink at every meeting without risking becoming alcoholics. I reached for my keyboard.

---

 Lucy, 

 Monday: I’ve confirmed your coffee table choices. So far, the separation isn’t unbearable 😉 I hope your trip is going well. 

 Ona 

---

I sent the message, immediately regretting the silly smiley face. She was a mayor and my client, and here I was, sending her a smiley—how embarrassing.

The next morning, I turned on my computer. A message from Lucy. I smiled and clicked on it.

---

 Hello, 

 Glad to hear about the coffee tables.   

 It’s only the start of the week; you’ll see, I become indispensable quickly. 😉   

(She was blatantly teasing me with that smiley.)

 Lucy 

---

I hadn’t expected her to reply from deep in the heart of Brittany. That evening, I wrote her back.

---

 Good evening, 

 Yes, the smiley was a bit ridiculous, I admit. ;) :p   

 Also, could you send back the sunshine that’s been missing for three days?   

 August 3rd, and it’s 15 degrees with rain.   

 Thanks in advance,   

 Ona 

---

Her response came the next morning.

---

 Good morning, Ona, 

 The smiley reminds me you’re still a young one, somewhere in your thirties, while I’m the old one here. 😉   

 As for the sun, I’ve kept it here with me—it’s glorious weather.   

 How’s your week going, without any site meetings? Feeling happy? 

 Lucy 

---

And that’s how the week went. I’d send her a message at night, and she’d respond by morning.

On Wednesday evening, I replied:

---

 Thirty-five, actually, so not that young anymore.   

 My week is a haven of peace without your project. Why not extend your stay in Brittany? 

 Ona   

 P.S.: Just to calm any worries, I was at the site two hours ago; the kitchen’s coming along! 

---

Thursday, another response:

---

 I was almost worried. Almost.   

 Didn’t quite believe you.   

 To your delight, I’m sure, I’ll be back this weekend.   

 I’ll be out antiquing tomorrow, so I might bring back some new décor ideas.   

 Fair warning, changes may be in order—eternally unsatisfied, that’s me.   

(And a pain in the neck, I thought to myself.)

 Lucy 

---

More work, possibly. But I was secretly pleased she was coming back. This game between us entertained me, even if I had no idea what  she  was after.

On Friday, I sent my last message:

---

 I’ll be ready, Lucy, prepared to handle even your most extravagant demands.   

---

I smiled as I typed that double-edged line. A bit bold, perhaps.

But there was no response from her, neither Friday nor Saturday.

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

The first Christmas after the Curtis parents die is not only the gangs first Christmas without them, it’s also their first Christmas without Johnny and Dally.

[animal-appreciation]

I love you Potoo I love you great Potoo I love you Potoo I love you great Potoo I love you Potoo I love you great Potoo I love you Potoo I love you great Potoo I love you Potoo I love you great Potoo I love you Potoo I love you great Potoo I love you Potoo I love you great Potoo I love you Potoo I love you great Potoo I love you Potoo I love you great Potoo I love you Potoo I love you great Potoo I love you Potoo I love you great Potoo I love you Potoo I love you great Potoo

[dearreader]

and the arguments that i have won against you in my head; in the car, in the shower, and in the mirror before bed…

yeah i’m so tough when i’m alone and i make you feel so guilty and i fantasize about a time you’re a little fuckin’ sorry-

and i try to ꪊꪀᦔꫀ𝕣ડ𝕥ꪖꪀᦔ why you would do this all to me. ‘you must be insecure. you must be so unhappy.’

and i know in my heart: hurt people, hurt people. and we both drew blood, but man those cuts were

ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴇQᴜᴀʟ!!

and i try to be tough. but i wanna scream ‘HOW COULD ANYBODY DO THE THINGS YOU DID SO EASILY?’

and i say that i don’t care.

say that i’m fine.

but you know i can’t let it go, i’vetriedi’ve triedi’vetried for so long… it takes s⃞   t⃞   r⃞   e⃞   n⃞   g⃞   t⃞   h⃞ to forgive but i don’t feel ₛₜᵣₒₙg

[darlinimamess]

.

[exospherethoughts]

It’s strange, how I often think I over-share, that I’m far too much of an open book, that I have no real private problems or thoughts. But then I find myself lying here in a warm bath — as I do every morning when I’m here — thinking about all the things I wish I could talk to someone about. The things that I’m ashamed of, or that I cannot find a string of linguistically sensible sounds to express in a way that do them justice, or that I simply do not want to share. Perhaps it is precisely because I am normally so open, that it feels foreign to *want* to keep something to myself.

Yet despite this desire for walls around my thoughts and feelings (my innermost mechanisms, as you would put it), I crave the intimacy of human connection. The kind that comes only from sharing the rawest of emotions, the most sensitive of thoughts. It’s a terrifying prospect, no? To be known so utterly well by someone that they understand you better than you understand yourself, for they have all the knowledge about your past and present and thoughts and feelings that you do, with the added bonus of a third party perspective. To be known in a manner which you never dreamed would be possible. To be known in a such a way that you do not need to ever be alone again, for no matter where they are, you know they would listen and understand— or even if they do not understand, they would not judge you.

I lie here, and I wonder. Imagine someone knowing I wished people would offer hugs more often because I think that although I’d decline most of the time, I would accept every now and then, and accepting is easier for me than to ask for one myself. Imagine someone knowing the details of what I went through the weeks surrounding my surgery, the feelings I’ve been having about those memories and the fear of what’s to come. Imagine someone knowing the cues I give off that indicate whether or not I’m mentally present at any given time (sometimes it’s so subtle I don’t even know if I’m there or not until later). Imagine someone knowing where each and every scar I have came from. Imagine someone knowing the full story of what happened with my parents growing up, the home dynamic I lived with, all the things they did and said to me, the complex way I’ve been irreversibly traumatized by them yet still love them so deeply I call them nearly every day. Imagine someone knowing how difficult moving out was for me, despite externally having behaved as though I had everything together. Imagine someone knowing the ugly and terrifying way I fall apart sometimes, how gravity wins and I find myself shaking on the floor, crying and whispering things to myself and begging the world for a way out. Imagine someone knowing about that horrible horrible horrible thing I did as a very young child that I know was simply a case of a kid not knowing any better but which haunts me regardless. Imagine someone knowing the story of how I got addicted to cutting and various other forms of self injury, and the events involving it that I sometimes remember, like getting hit by a truck.

Imagine someone knowing you so well that you could call them any time, whether it’s because you need help or because you don’t want to be alone or because you just miss them, and you know they’ll pick up if they can and that you will know them just as well as they know you.

Sounds like a pipe dream to me. Every time I get remotely close to someone I end up being too much. They get to know too many details about me and then they leave because I am not loveable. Not in my entirety. Even while trying so hard to be a better person over the years. I’m just, me.

[cloudwisp]

✮ sylus x wife!reader

contents: fluff, suggestive. arranged marriage au. hints of slow burn. you like playing hard to get and he loves calling you his wife. 1.4k wc.

꒰ note ᰔ I had to deposit my messy thoughts somewhere and this headcanon post was the result.

part two here. ꒱

⭒ Arranged marriage with Sylus where he prefers to call it a “strategic partnership” as a means of appearances to flaunt that he has it all—an empire, riches, strength, influence and now a darling wife who waits for him at home. You’re not so much as a random choice, Sylus had been watching you from afar for a while and in exchange for his protection in the N109 zone he strikes a deal with you to play a simple role. You have every reason to be wary of him and know to keep your wits about yourself, but even you acknowledge that your chances are better with him. Though, if you asked him how he was so certain you’d agree to his proposal he’d admit that he wasn’t but he knew you’d consider it if he had an advantage over you.

⭒ He sets his terms and conditions—you reside in his humble abode, wedding ring always worn on your finger, and attend events with him as a pretty accessory on his arm to contribute to his image. But he’ll never admit that he actually enjoys your company at business functions that often feel dull to him. You are more than welcome to spend your days as you please so long you don’t cause him trouble, and that also means you have his black card privileges to spoil yourself rotten. Of course, he accommodates most requests you may have like sleeping in separate rooms if that’s what you wish (and redecorating because his furnishing decisions are quite bleak).

⭒ Luke and Kieran can sense that their boss feels something for you despite his nonchalance toward this little arrangement. It starts off small, it always does—Sylus takes note of your morning and night routine, your picky eating habits and has the chef make adjustments to your preference, how he sees you out in the gardens and come back with spring tulips to brighten the space and the next week he already replaced the slowly withering flowers with fresh ones. The twins whisper among themselves that he’s often less annoyed and irritated when you’re around, and their boss wouldn’t go through the trouble of being considerate unless he cares for you. It’s almost exciting for them both to witness a budding romance unfold before their very eyes and they do offer a helping hand here and there to keep things interesting.

⭒ Sylus thinks it’s adorable how you keep trying to resist him and that’s precisely the reason he loves seeking you out just to watch your resolve crumble under his touch. He finds you in the kitchen preparing a snack and cages you from behind with his hands planted on either side of you against the counter. “Hey kitten, I thought I’d find you in here.” You feel his hot breath down your neck as he pushes your hair aside just enough to lay a soft kiss on your shoulder. He chuckles when you comment that he’s being awfully touchy with you, and he purposely moves closer so that his chest is pressing against your back. “Perhaps I just can’t keep my hands to myself where you’re involved. Besides, you’re my wife now. I think I have the right to touch you whenever I like.”

⭒ You remind him that you’re his wife in title only, but that doesn’t discourage his flirtation and teasing as he allows you to nudge past him. He follows you into the common area and takes a seat on the couch, spreading his legs wide and taking up a lot of space. His gaze is settled on you as he pats his thigh and his lips curl into a smirk. “Come here, wife.” You naturally scoff meanwhile you place the plate of seasonal fruits on the side table and situate yourself closest to the armrest, taking a bite into a juicy red strawberry as you ignore his piercing stare.

⭒ For someone who always gets what he wants, Sylus isn’t used to being defied like this. And had it been anyone else his patience would wear dangerously thin, but he supposes that you’re a special exception because he seems to enjoy the chase and claiming its reward. With one small gesture, he drags you across the couch by a gravitational pull and you squeal when the swirling red easily turn and maneuver you so you’re forced to straddle him and your hands prop on his shoulders for support. “There, much better. Comfy? This is the best seat in the house.” His gaze locks with yours, and he thinks you huffing and frowning at him is simply cute. He firmly grabs your wrist with the bitten strawberry in your hand and lifts it to his mouth for a sweet taste.

⭒ “No fair… using your Evol against me like this.” You grumble under your breath as you gently trail your thumb from his chin to the corner of his mouth where the strawberry juices began to spill. Then an impulsive thought takes over and you pinch his cheek between your fingers, creating a sticky mess on his face. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself. That’s for treating me like a sack of potatoes.” He chuckles once more, his hand falling on your hip and he gives you a light squeeze. “Oh, I do have every intention of fully enjoying my wife tonight.” And by that, he means taking you out for a joyride on his motorbike and feeling your arms wrapped around him tightly as the engine roars through the streets under the night sky and sinking moon. Sylus would never engage in any intimate acts you weren’t ready for, but he loves seeing you fluster at his suggestive remarks.

⭒ As the weeks cross over into months, you never imagined that you’d be spending so much time with Sylus outside of your agreed terms. He’s everywhere in every waking moment of your life even when he’s not there physically. You’re learning new things about him each day and you (begrudgingly) like being around him—even when he can sometimes be a playful bully toward you. When he’s gone for long stretches of time to deal with negotiations and other important matters in the N109 zone, you can feel your heart yearning for him but you’d never say that you miss him out loud when you think he's still toying with you. But with the way he cares for you like you’re both in a real and genuine relationship, it’s hard to know his true intentions and keep your feelings buried deep inside your chest for long.

⭒ You accidentally confirm that Sylus does harbor romantic feelings for you when you carelessly bring up your replacement in a lighthearted joke. You’ve never seen his face falter so quickly at your words as he averts his gaze for a moment to collect himself—a hint of vulnerability in his crimson hues. “I wouldn’t have found a new wife.” He shakes his head and tells you, his voice a little rougher than before. You don’t know what to say, but you manage a soft “No?” that reaches his ears. “No. I wouldn’t have been able to replace you, kitten. You’re it for me. The only one. No one could fill the void you’d leave behind.”

⭒ You and Sylus have kissed before, but this is the first time you’re initiating it. As you brush your lips against his, there’s a softness you never noticed. His hand slips around the small of your back and he pulls you close against him, returning your kiss with the same tenderness as though savoring the taste of you. You lean back after a moment, your palm meeting his cheek in a sweet embrace. “You know, I'm still getting used to the idea that I’ve fallen for you.” You can see him returning back to normal when he offers you a cocky smirk. “And yet here you are. In my arms, with your lips on mine. I think you’re not being entirely honest, my beautiful wife.” Sylus has waited a long time to hear those words from you but you don’t need to know that right now.

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ it's sticky, toshi... ❞

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : you help ushijima finally realize that he's got a breeding kink

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...cw : u. wakatoshi x fem!reader, dirty talk, messy and wet, teasing, marathon sex, pet names, breeding kink, talks of pregnancy, ushijima can't stop cumming

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...lunar's note : haikyuu save me, save me ushijima wakatoshi, SAVE ME !! anyways hi i spent 150$ on ushijima merch yesterday and i don't regret it, so say hello to my haikyuu phase coming back !!!

ushijima having a breeding kink isn't a surprise to you at all.

what is surprising is how long it takes for him to figure it out.

sure, at first it wasn't clear, but after being with him for so long, you quickly pick up on whenever he'd mutter in your ear as he slid his stupidly big cock inside of you, saying how badly he wished he could cum inside of you instead in the condom.

afterwards, he's so focused on cleaning you up and making sure you felt good and satisfied, you don't get a chance to question him on it. not that you were complaining, ushijima is so cute when he's asking if you need anything and constantly reminds you to get up and go use the bathroom.

it's even cuter when he realizes you can't walk.

"ah. i'm sorry, i didn't realize how hard i went...here, let me help."

eventually, you to suggest things to ushijima, trying to test out the waters with him.

you start by just asking if he’d want to fuck you without the condom, what he thought about cumming inside, even jokingly saying you’d make him a dad one day.

but it seems like that last part was swimming around his head for a while...he can't get the thought of you getting chubby and round with his kid out of your head. and knowing he'd be able to take care of you all the time? that thought alone made him shiver a little.

what can he say, he loves doting on you more than anything.

however, you aren't expecting the way he reacted weeks after dealing with your teasing and questioning, fueling the thoughts swirling inside his head.

"toshi, if you ever cum inside me, you should set it as your phone background! actually, wait, no, because what if your teammates see it..."

"..."

"mm, maybe a video instead? ooh, yeah, i want a video of you cumming in me then pullin' out so i can see it spill out, toshtosh, would you do that f' me?"

he doesn't reply and doesn't give you a chance to comment again. the visual you painted in his mind just too much for him.

next thing you know, ushi's got you folded in half on the bed, making sure you feel every drag of his stupidly fat cock against your hot gummy walls. he's pulling out to just the tip before slamming back inside you, groaning each time you let out a whimper of his name or squeeze down on him.

"toshi, t-toshi! h-hoohmygod, please, baby, c-calm down, 'm sorry f' teasin', oh my goddd...!"

you're so fucking wet and noisy, he wants to make you be quiet because he feels like your going to make him cum too fast but he'd never ever do it as the thought of not being able to hear you is painful.

he's lost track of time, your cunt making him brainless as he pumps his cock in and out of you as he groans your name, one of his hands pinning your arms to your back while the other presses your head into the pillows.

"s-shhh, honey, let...let me make you feel good, y're so loud..."

it's so fucking messy and sloppy, his cum is dripping out of your tight pussy from how many times he’s emptied his load into you, but he still isn’t stopping, no, he can't. it’s leaking from between your thighs, leaving a milky white sheen on his dick, dripping down onto the bedsheets.

"m-mmh, nooo, toshi, don' wanna be quiet, i-i wan' you to hear how good you make me feel, baby," you purr between moans, knowing that your voice was enough to get him off. the throb of his dick inside of you told you that you were right.

“i...i thought 'bout fucking you like this all day, during practice…that i’d fuck you full of my cum, get it so deep inside you," he mutters with a grunt, moving his hands off you so he could drape himself over your back.

"f-fuck, everyone knew something was off, kageyama kept asking me if-if was okay, how 'm i 'posed to tell him my pretty little honey is waiting at home for me to fill them with my cum?”

with an affirming coo, you manage to tilt your head to the side to look over your shoulder, wanting to see how ushijima is holding up and god, the sight is so sinful.

ushijima's dripping in sweat, his bottom lip swollen and puffy from his teeth digging into it. his fluffy hair is messy and sticking to his damp forehead, and his eyes are shut, squeezing in pleasure when the head of his cock brushed against that sweet spot just right, making your cunt spasm around him.

but his eyes keep opening to see the mess between the both of you. each thrust causes his cum to spill out around him, loud, wet squelches filling the bedroom. and it's only fueling his need to fill you up again, and again, and again, until he can’t anymore.

ushijima can’t stop himself, flipping you over onto your back and folding you into a mating press and, god, he's so fucking happy he did. the way you sob his name, your nails clawing at his back as you cry in pleasure about how much deeper he is now driving him insane.

“t-toshi, cum in me, please, wanna make you a daddy, please.”

“I know, baby, I’ll give you all of it, fuck you full of cum until you can’t take anymore.”

fuck, he’s so loud, he sounds so good. ushi's deep, drawn out groans and pants of your name making you go dizzy, his big hands squeezing your waist tightly each time your hands tug at his hair.

“mm, fuck, that’s right, take all my cum, look at you, so good, can you take more? let...let me cum in you again, baby, you promised you’d make me a daddy, right? i-i need to make sure it sticks.”

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[certifiedyapperx]

imagine you’re dating ghost and no one knows. the two of you have kept it a secret on your end and his just for your protection— because ghost knows what could happen if someone finds out, how someone might try and target you to get to him, or worse, given his line of work.

but then imagine that he’s on a mission, interrogating some piece of filth ready to decorate the fucking wall with his brain matter when the guy says “you know what, simon, killing me would be the biggest mistake of your life.”

immediately ghost would pause, eyes narrowed, though his hardened demeanour wouldn’t fade much, he’d just blankly stare at the prick like “oh yea? n’ why don’ you tell m’ why.”

the shit-eating grin that would crawl across that fuckers lips would have ghost ready to kill him right then and there, but then he’d say “reach in my pocket. pull out my phone.”

id like to think ghost would have absolutely none of this assholes bullshit, not at all entertained by his theatrics. i’d like to think he’d just press the muzzle of his gun to the fuckers temple within an instant, all teeth barred and ready to get it over with when the guy would add,

“your girlfriend is a fucking beauty, isn’t she?”

everything would pause. ghost, time, the world, air, the universe itself—the life that would drain from ghosts face would almost be enough to make his alias a reality. his heart pounding in his throat, his fingers fucking trembling as he immediately reached into the assholes pocket to find his phone—a picture of a woman tied up (face not in view however) lighting up on the home screen. there’d be no thinking rationally, no thoughts in ghosts head except for making sure you were fucking okay. he’d do whatever he’d have to do, kill the guy, leave him strapped there, whatever—he’d be out of that room in two seconds flat and personally flying the helicopter back to your house calling you nonstop every fucking second until you answered.

“hello? si?”

he’d wait a second before answering. taking everything in. background noises, the inflection of your voice. it sounds calm, maybe too calm? he’s grasping his phone so fucking hard it’s a miracle it hasn’t shattered between his fingers.

“princess,” he breathes, fighting with everything in him to keep his voice steady. “see any birds today?”

though it was a genuine question, it also was an established one. ghost had set up a series of questions for a situation precisely like this. if you said blue jay, it meant you were fine, at home, as usual. if you said crows, it meant you weren’t.

“oh just the usual blue jays, si.” he could almost hear the smile on your lips. “everything okay? i miss you.”

ghost would exhale a shattered breath. “i’m coming home.”

and then he’d show up, not all but a few hours later, hands still trembling slightly, heart rate still struggling to regulate. it was too much, reminding him too much of his past traumas, he knew he needed to find better protection for you, but that was a conversation for another time.

he’d come in the house, barely even taking the time to shut the door behind him, almost frenzied again, relentless, unable to relax until he could finally lay eyes on you. and then, the second he did, he’d just pause and look at you, all messy hair and pyjamas still on, in the kitchen cooking breakfast for you both since you knew he was on his way.

and he wouldn’t say a goddamn word, he’d just come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, hugging you so tight you’d hardly be able to breathe, his face buried in your hair and his heart thumping at your back. you’d feel the pain the fear the anxiety radiating off him and you wouldn’t try to say anything because you knew he needed this, you knew he needed to see you, hold you, feel your pulse stable and alive. you knew he just needed a moment to breathe.

and so the two of you would stand there like that for a while, and then he’d take a big inhale and spin you around to face him, pulling up his mask to plant soft kisses on your jaw.

“i love you so fuckin’ much.”