#liked this enough to share but not enough to finish

[kwilquib]

Falling for You, Again.

TripleS Kim Yooyeon x Reader

Switching POV

Word Count: 14.4k+

Kim Yooyeon sat upright in the hospital bed, the sterile scent of disinfectant clinging to the air. It no longer unsettled her the way it once did. She had been here long enough to adjust—to wake up every morning knowing she had lost her memories, knowing that her only grasp on the past came from what others told her.

And what they told her was this:

She was married. She was deeply in love. And her husband, who had been abroad for work, had been devastated when he heard about the accident, even more when he couldn't return immediately. Today—the day of her discharge—she would finally go home.

Her parents had been with her since the beginning, threading her past together with their words. Their voices were steady, unwavering—as if the truth could be spoken into existence.

"You and your husband were so perfect together," her mother gushed, her voice thick with emotion. "Always looking at each other like you were the only two people in the world."

Yooyeon held onto the words, testing them, trying to find something familiar in them.

A flicker of memory surfaced. A formal dinner, the gentle clink of wine glasses, a man’s hand resting on the small of her back as they smiled for photographs. She could almost hear the laughter, but it felt distant, muted—like a scene from someone else’s life.

Her father nodded approvingly. "He's a good man. Responsible, capable. And devoted to you, as any husband should be."

Another fragment—her husband adjusting his tie in their shared bathroom mirror, his reflection catching hers. A quiet familiarity between them, practiced and smooth. She remembered feeling something then—a warmth in her chest, steady and certain.

"You don’t remember?" her mother asked hopefully.

Yooyeon hesitated. Did she? The images were there, but they felt too crisp, too clean—like a story well-told, not a memory truly lived.

"I... I think I do. Little pieces."

Her mother brightened immediately. "See? It’s coming back! I always said true love leaves its mark on the soul, even if the mind forgets."

The words settled over her like a soft weight. True love.

With each story they shared, more pieces seemed to surface. Their first dance at a business gala. Weekend brunches with friends where they finished each other’s sentences. Vacation photos where they looked blissfully happy.

Each memory felt genuine—yet the edges of them blurred, like an oil painting smudged by an impatient hand.

She wanted to believe it. She wanted to be the woman they spoke of, the one who had been so deeply in love.

But wasn’t love supposed to feel more certain than this?

The nurse entered with her discharge papers. "Mrs. Kim, you’re all set to leave. Your husband must be relieved—his wife is finally getting discharged."

His wife.

The words settled into the quiet room, lingering in the air longer than they should have.

She had heard it before—"your husband," "your loving marriage," "you were so happy together." Each time, the words had been spoken with certainty, as if they alone could fill the void in her memory.

But this felt different. Final. Binding.

Her fingers curled around the ring on her left hand. The metal was warm, familiar. She traced its shape, searching for something—anything—that felt like certainty.

She waited for the rush of emotion, the deep-seated knowing. It didn’t come.

Her mother squeezed her hand. “Your husband called while you were resting. He’ll be returning from his work trip this week.”

Yooyeon nodded, ignoring the flutter of something in her chest. Excitement? Anxiety? Or something else entirely?

As the elevator descended to the hospital lobby, her parents chatting excitedly beside her, Yooyeon let herself lean into the stories, into the warmth they promised.

If she reached for the love they spoke of, if she believed hard enough—would it become real?

Today, she was going home.

To them.

And maybe, just maybe, to the love she was supposed to remember.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You step into the familiar quiet of your home, and for a moment, it doesn’t feel real.

This place—this moment—was never supposed to happen like this.

You were supposed to come back with a clearer mind, with the weight of your feelings for Yooyeon finally worn down by distance and time. You had convinced yourself that being away, that drowning in work, was the right thing. You had nearly succeeded in quieting the ache of wanting her—of wanting something you were never meant to have.

But then the call came.

The accident. The words you never expected to hear. That she had lost her memories, that she couldn’t remember you.

And suddenly, the distance that was supposed to help you move on became unbearable.

You couldn’t leave. Couldn’t abandon your work, not when this deal had been months in the making. But you couldn’t call her either. You weren’t ready to hear her voice, to confirm with your own ears that she didn’t remember you. Instead, you asked about her indirectly—through doctors, through her parents. Keeping yourself just close enough to know she was okay, but far enough to not face the truth.

Now, you’re home. And for the first time since you left, you can’t avoid her anymore.

She’s in the living room when you step in, arranging flowers—an image so delicate, so carefully composed, that it stops you in your tracks. You never remembered her paying so much attention to things like this before.

“Welcome home,” she says, offering you a small smile. It’s polite, warm even, but there’s something unfamiliar about it. It’s measured, like she’s giving you exactly what she thinks you expect.

It throws you off.

She’s different, and yet—she’s not. She’s not an entirely new person, not a stranger. She’s still Yooyeon, but softened in ways she never was before. Less guarded, less sharp. And it terrifies you how easily she could slip into the version of her you used to dream about—the version that could have loved you back.

You clear your throat, setting down your luggage. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get back sooner.”

Her fingers still briefly over the petals. “It’s fine… they told me your trip was important.” Her voice is light, but there’s something beneath it. A hesitation. A quiet disappointment.

Then, softer, almost to herself, “We could’ve at least talked on the phone.”

Your chest tightens. You don’t know if she’s saying it because she wanted to talk to you or because she thinks it’s something she should say.

“How have you been?” you ask, even though you already know. You know what the doctors have said, what her parents have told you. But you need to hear it from her.

She launches into a recounting of her recovery—how she’s been adjusting, how her parents have practically hovered over her. But as she speaks, something feels off. Her words are careful, almost rehearsed, as if she’s reading from a script someone gave her.

And it hits you—she is following a script.

She’s trying to fit into the life everyone says she had. Trying to be the person they tell her she used to be.

The realization unsettles you.

It should be easy to draw the line. You told yourself, over and over, that this marriage had given you nothing but a lingering ache. That whatever warmth you once felt had long since dulled into something muted, tolerable. Maybe this is the clean break you need—the perfect excuse to finally move on without guilt.

But instead, all the walls you’ve built, the callousness you spent months forging, begin to crack.

You watch her—this version of Yooyeon, untouched by old wounds and past hesitations—and wonder.

Is this a curse? Or is this the only chance you’ll ever have to hold onto something that was never truly yours?

Later, over lunch, the air between you still carries an odd tension—not uncomfortable, just… unfamiliar. You catch yourself hesitating before speaking, unsure which parts of your shared past she still holds onto and which have slipped through the cracks.

"Do you remember the trip to Busan?" you ask, testing again, reaching for a thread of the past.

Yooyeon blinks, her brows knitting together. "Busan…?"

"The conference," you remind her. "Last year. You spent half the time making fun of that presenter’s slides."

She lets out a small laugh but shakes her head. "I don’t remember that at all. But it does sound like something I’d do."

There’s a beat of silence, then a quiet chuckle from both of you—awkward, but not entirely unpleasant.

"Tell me about it?" she asks, tilting her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "I want to know what kind of person I was."

The question throws you off guard, though you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s the vulnerability in her voice, the quiet plea to be filled in on the version of herself that she’s lost.

You hesitate, then exhale softly. "You were—" You stop, correcting yourself. "You are sharp. Witty. You never let anyone get away with nonsense."

She smiles at that, as if it reassures her. "That’s good to hear."

Bit by bit, the stiffness fades.

By evening, it’s different. The space between you, once uncertain, feels smoother, more fluid. It’s not the same as before, but in some ways, it’s easier. Lighter.

Yooyeon touches you more. Small, fleeting gestures—her fingers brushing against yours when she hands you a plate, resting a hand on your wrist when she asks a question, leaning into you slightly when you walk side by side. It’s nothing dramatic, nothing she seems to think twice about. But it’s different.

Before the accident, before the marriage, you thought of Yooyeon as a great friend—someone easy to talk to, someone who made life feel less heavy. When you agreed to the marriage, you thought maybe, just maybe, you were moving toward something more. At first, it seemed like it. The familiarity deepened, your feelings began to take shape, creeping in slowly, almost unnoticed. There were moments—glimpses of what could be—where it felt like the two of you were truly building something together.

But then, it stopped. Or maybe it just never went far enough. She was always there, yet just out of reach. She smiled at you, laughed with you, shared meals with you, but there was always a quiet hesitation in her, an invisible wall she never dared to cross. You wanted more. You wanted to pull her closer, to make her see what you were feeling, but something kept holding you back. Kept holding her back.

Your love for her didn’t fade—it grew. And the more it grew, the more it hurt.

You lived together, spent your days and nights side by side, yet the gap between you remained. A happy marriage, but never quite content. Companions, but never quite lovers.

And now? Now she’s changed. Now, that boundary is gone—not in the way you once wished it would be, but in a way that feels almost unreal. Like something delicate and fleeting, something that shouldn’t be yours to hold.

You don’t comment on it.

You tell yourself it’s just her way of adjusting, of seeking comfort in something familiar.

So you play along.

As the evening drags on, you feel her eyes on you constantly, but there’s no familiar ease to it. No comfort. It’s as if she’s studying you, trying to figure out the person she’s married to, trying to place you into this new reality where you don’t fit. You catch her refilling your water glass before you even ask, adjusting your collar just slightly, even suggesting things she thinks will please you—asking how the trip went, what you did, if you’re tired. Every move she makes feels calculated, like she’s not trying to be the woman you married, but the woman she thinks you expect her to be.

Her actions are all wrapped in politeness and care, but it feels like a performance. You’re a stranger to her now, and she’s just trying to fit the role she believes she has to play.

You can’t help but wonder, does she even know who you are anymore?

After dinner, Yooyeon sets her chopsticks down and looks at you expectantly. “Can we watch some videos?” she asks.

You blink. “Videos?”

“Our wedding, maybe? Or just… us?” She hesitates, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. “I want to see. I want to remember.”

You don’t answer right away. Something about the request unsettles you, but you don’t know why.

She watches you carefully, waiting. And for some reason, you find yourself nodding.

Minutes later, you’re both sitting on the couch as the TV screen flickers to life. The first video plays—a montage of your wedding day. The ceremony, the smiles, the laughter. The perfect image of a couple in love.

Yooyeon watches intently, her gaze scanning the screen like she’s trying to etch every second into her mind. “I remember this part,” she murmurs when the camera captures her slipping the ring onto your finger. “I was so nervous.”

You glance at her. “Were you?”

She nods, eyes still locked on the screen. “I kept worrying I’d drop the ring. But you… you looked so calm.” She tilts her head, studying the way you held her hand in the video. “Did you feel nervous?”

You almost laugh. “No. It was just a formality, I was rushing for the event to be over.”

The words sit between you, stark and unfiltered.

Yooyeon doesn’t flinch. Instead, she hums thoughtfully. “Still. We looked happy.”

You don’t answer.

The video shifts to another clip—your honeymoon. A trip spent half in public, playing the roles expected of you, and half in quiet companionship behind closed doors.

“You remember this?” you ask, testing her again.

She pauses. “Not all of it,” she admits. “But some parts… they feel familiar.”

She leans into your side, her body warm against yours.

You hadn’t noticed when it happened, but somehow, Yooyeon ended up nestled against you, her head resting lightly against your shoulder, your arm loosely draped around her. The closeness should feel foreign—it never used to be like this—but strangely, it isn’t.

It feels natural. Too natural.

On the screen, the version of you from the past smiles at her, something soft in his expression that even you don’t quite recognize.

Yooyeon shifts slightly in your arms, tilting her head up to look at you.

Your breath catches.

She’s close. Closer than she should be.

The glow of the screen casts soft shadows over her face, highlighting the curve of her lips, the quiet intent in her eyes. The air between you grows heavy, charged with something neither of you acknowledges.

And then she moves.

Her lips press against yours—gentle, seeking. A quiet, hesitant question in the form of a kiss.

Your body reacts before your mind does.

You’d spent months trying to forget, convincing yourself that this love was better buried.

And yet, here you were—undoing everything in a single moment.

You kiss her back.

Before your kisses could get any deeper, she breaks it off.

“I— I should probably take a shower…” her breath heavy. “Before we continue…” she muttered almost a whisper. As she runs towards your room.

The warmth of her lips still lingers on yours as Yooyeon stumbles away, her words barely registering in your mind. Your pulse is erratic, breath unsteady as she disappears into the bathroom. The sound of running water fills the space, but your thoughts are too tangled to process anything else.

You exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair. What just happened?

The weight of her kiss, the way her body fit against yours—it felt inevitable, like something long overdue.

Minutes pass, stretching endlessly until the water finally stops. The door creaks open, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimpse of her silhouette before she vanishes into your room, wrapped in nothing but a towel.

Your heart is still racing as you push yourself off the couch. The air feels thick, charged with an energy you don’t know how to name.

The shower is quick, the cold water doing little to calm the storm inside you. Even as you dry off, the memory of her touch lingers—her warmth, her scent, the way she looked at you before she kissed you.

Steeling yourself, you step into your bedroom.

And then—you freeze.

Yooyeon lies on your bed, the blanket pooling around her bare shoulders, exposing smooth skin bathed in the dim light. Her damp hair spills over the pillows, dark strands curling at the ends.

Your throat goes dry.

She watches you, her expression unreadable, lips parted slightly as if caught between hesitation and expectation.

Then it hits you.

Under that sheet, Yooyeon is completely naked.

And so are you.

The towel slips from your fingers, falling soundlessly to the floor. Her gaze follows the movement, trailing over your body before flickering away when it lands lower—shyness warring with curiosity.

You move closer, sitting at the edge of the bed. Your hand reaches out, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of the blanket. Slowly, deliberately, you peel it back, unveiling inch after inch of her bare skin.

First, her collarbones, delicate and defined.

Then her breasts, supple, rising and falling with her breath.

Your eyes trace the gentle slope of her stomach, the way it tenses slightly under your gaze.

And then, finally, the last of the blanket falls away, revealing the most intimate part of her.

You pause, drinking her in—every curve, every detail, the sheer vulnerability of this moment.

She is beautiful.

You remind yourself not to rush. To take your time.

Slowly, calmly, you lean in, capturing her lips in a kiss—soft at first, testing, savoring. Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she melts into you, her hands trailing up your back, fingertips pressing lightly as if urging you closer.

The kiss deepens.

Your tongues meet, a slow, intoxicating dance. Her taste lingers on your lips, warm and sweet. You tug at her tongue, coaxing it out, teasing, savoring every second before finally breaking apart, breathless.

Both of you pant for air, foreheads pressed together, heat radiating between you. Then, you feel it—Yooyeon’s hand wrapping around your length, her touch light at first, then firmer, stroking you, making you harder than you already are.

You tense, instinctively pulling back for a second, startled by the sudden contact. Her eyes flicker with confusion, but you don’t explain. Instead, you press forward, shifting your focus.

Your lips trail down her body, kissing her skin, feeling the way she trembles beneath you. Her quiet moans spill out as you kiss along her side, then lower, past her navel.

You don’t linger. You know she’s already wet.

Positioning yourself between her legs, you part them, revealing her.

“Yooyeon… can I?” Your voice is low, thick with need.

She nods, her gaze heavy-lidded, filled with anticipation.

You lean in, your tongue sliding against her folds, tasting her, teasing her. She gasps, back arching slightly, her moans growing louder as you work her with slow, deliberate strokes. You take your time, letting each flick, each swirl of your tongue build her pleasure.

You feel her body loosening, her walls softening around your touch. Taking it as your cue, you push your tongue inside, warmth enveloping you as her arousal coats your mouth. She’s overflowing, her body giving in to pleasure.

Her legs clamp around your head, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. Fingers tangle in your hair, grasping tightly as her moans turn desperate, erratic.

You hold her thighs apart, refusing to let her escape. The way she writhes beneath you, the way her voice rises with each stroke of your tongue—it only fuels you. Her pleasure feeds your hunger.

You pick up the pace, teasing and flicking against her sensitive bud. She cries out, hands gripping the sheets, her body arching as the sensation overwhelms her.

Then, without warning, you push your tongue back inside, not giving her a moment’s reprieve. Her moans turn to breathless, broken sounds, her mind too lost in the pleasure to form words.

"Fuh…Ah—Nnn… fuah!!!"

Her body tenses, muscles locking up as the pressure builds. Her legs tremble, stretching outward, her hands pressing against your head, trying to ground herself. Her back arches high, head tilting back as the wave finally crashes over her.

And you don’t stop—drawing out every last pulse of her release, savoring the way her body trembles beneath you.

But your hunger isn't satisfied.

Even though she’s already drenched, already ready, you want more.

Moving back up, you claim her breast, taking a hardened peak into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, sucking, teasing, while your hands knead her softness, fingers flicking and pinching in tandem with your lips. You alternate between gentle licks and sharp bites against her sensitive tips, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips.

A loud moan escapes her, her back arching.

Your eyes flick up, catching the way her head tilts, her neck exposed—a silent invitation.

You answer it immediately, trailing kisses along her skin, feeling her pulse quicken beneath your lips. Each press of your mouth sends another shiver through her, her body reacting to every touch.

But you need more.

Your lips find hers again, and before you can even take the lead, she’s already parting her mouth, welcoming you, her tongue eagerly meeting yours.

The kiss deepens, slow and consuming, both of you losing yourselves in the heat of it.

And then—another moan escapes her, breaking the kiss.

Your tip presses against her, teasing her entrance.

You don’t stop. Instead, you return to her lips, deepening the kiss as you rub your length along her slick folds, coating yourself in her arousal.

Her moans sync with each slow, deliberate movement, her body shuddering beneath you. Her hands cradle your face, fingers gliding over your skin, smearing the mess of your mixed saliva as she pulls you in closer.

Your lips part, but your tongues remain locked in their heated dance, unwilling to separate—until she finally pushes you back, breathless.

"Dear… it’s enough… ah!" she whispers between moans.

But is it?

Doubt lingers, and instead of answering, you dip back down, capturing her breast in your mouth, sucking lightly, flicking her sensitive tips with your tongue. She gasps, arching into you, her fingers tightening against your skin.

You trail back up, capturing her lips once more, silencing any protests. She parts her mouth as if to speak, but you don’t let her—your tongue claims hers again, drawing another muffled moan from her.

Finally, she pleads, her voice trembling with need.

"Please… put it in…"

You pull back slightly, your breathing ragged.

Is it really enough?

Your eyes search hers, questioning and hesitating. You want her completely—but only when she’s truly ready.

Then another thought crosses your mind: rubber. Hastily, you reach for the drawer, but before you can, her hand intercepts yours.

“Wait…” she says softly, holding out a condom. Her eyes sparkle with a mix of impatience and assurance. You know you’re supposed to use it, yet in this heated moment, the raw intensity of your desire makes you yearn for an unfiltered connection.

Clutching the condom in your hand, you feel that inner battle between safety and passion. In one impulsive moment, you decide—raw is what you need. With deliberate urgency, you press yourself against her, entering her without delay.

“Ahnnn…” escapes her lips as she welcomes you. Every thrust is met with her rising moans—a rhythmic symphony that spurs you on.

Your hand slides up to her breast, massaging and flicking it, alternating between gentle licks and teasing bites along her sensitive nipple. The sound of her moans draws your attention to the delicate curve of her neck, where your lips trail a fiery path of kisses.

Her insides grow warmer and more intense with each movement, wrapping around you, pulling you deeper into the moment. Sensing that the intensity might soon overwhelm both of you, you briefly pull back—tearing open the condom wrapper with a mix of urgency and hesitation.

You withdraw slightly, and she moans in response. The pause makes you acutely aware of how close you both are to the edge. Desperate not to lose the rhythm, you fumble to put the condom on again.

Sensing your hurry—and perhaps sharing in your urgency—her hand reaches out, deftly fitting the condom for you. Without missing a beat, she guides your length back to her welcoming embrace. Your body re-enters her, and you murmur her name, “Yooyeon.”

“I'm about to cum,” you confess in a low, husky tone, “but… is it okay?”

She meets your gaze with a smile and a nod of encouragement, “Yes… do it whenever you like.”

Emboldened, you resume your pace, each thrust growing more rapid as your kisses overlap with her soft moans. The sight of her—flushed and panting, eyes half-closed in bliss, strands of hair clinging to her flushed skin—drives you closer to your limit. You grip her waist tightly as her arms cradle your head, locking you together in a passionate embrace.

You feel your release building rapidly. Her hips rise to meet your every thrust as she arches her back, her body moving in perfect rhythm with yours. In a final, desperate surge, your finger finds her clit, adding one last burst of stimulation to the electric mix of pleasure.

“No—… Not—There—” she gasps breathlessly as her body twists with the overwhelming sensations.

"I’m—cumming—cumming… Ah!!!" she cries, and in that climactic moment, both of you shatter under the intensity of your shared release.

Her body convulses as waves of heat and pleasure surge through her, each pulse sending shudders down her spine. The sheets beneath you seem to ripple with the force of your climax, every fiber of your being alive with raw ecstasy. You feel her muscles tighten around you, an unspoken invitation to surrender completely to the overwhelming sensation.

Exhausted yet exhilarated, you collapse beside her, your heads turning to face each other. Her expression radiates satisfaction and joy as she softly calls your name. Gently, she plants a kiss on your lips, then on your forehead, and finally on your nose—each tender gesture sealing the memory of your shared passion.

As her eyes close and she nestles into your embrace, you both drift in the afterglow—a raw, unforgettable moment of intimacy that lingers long after the night fades.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yooyeon stirred awake to the warmth of a steady heartbeat beneath her cheek, her fingers curled lightly against his bare chest. His arms were still around her, firm yet relaxed, holding her in a way that made her feel safe. Wanted. Loved.

A quiet smile ghosted her lips as she let herself sink into the moment.

Last night had been…

Her cheeks flushed at the memory—her own boldness, the way she had moved on instinct, the way his touch had set fire to every inch of her skin. She hadn’t thought too deeply about it at the time. She had simply acted on a feeling—a feeling that told her she wanted him, wanted to be close to him in the most intimate way.

And she had been right.

Being with him had felt good, natural. She felt satisfied, happy, content in a way that only reaffirmed everything she had come to believe since waking up in this life—she loved him.

She was sure of it.

The realization sent a quiet thrill through her. She had been nervous, hesitant, unsure if her memories would ever return, but last night had proven that love didn’t need memories to exist. She felt it in the way she craved his presence, in the warmth that filled her chest when he looked at her.

Yooyeon shifted slightly, pressing closer to him, breathing in the faint scent of him—clean, comforting, familiar.

But then his voice cut through the soft haze of her thoughts.

“That was… unexpected,” he murmured, his fingers absentmindedly tracing slow circles on her back.

She blinked, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “Unexpected?”

He hesitated, just for a second. Then, with a careful smile, he said, “It’s been a while.”

A while.

The words settled in her mind, stirring something she didn’t quite understand. Of course, it had been a while—she had only woken up to this life weeks ago. But his tone, the way his hand tightened slightly around her waist, made her feel like it was more than that. Like this distance between them wasn’t just from her accident, but something older.

She wanted to ask—why had it been so long?

But the words never left her lips. It wasn’t hard to imagine why. Their relationship was complicated. She might not remember everything, but she could sense it—the hesitance in his touch, the way he always seemed to be holding back, like there was something unspoken between them.

Maybe that was just how marriage worked. Maybe love wasn’t always constant, but something that came and went.

Still, as she rested her head against his chest, the thought lingered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At first, it unsettles you.

The way Yooyeon moves around you so effortlessly, the way she reaches for your hand without hesitation, the way she speaks to you with such natural affection—it’s disorienting.

She doesn’t remember.

She doesn’t remember that your marriage was built on something practical, something strategic. She doesn’t remember that love was never part of the equation.

And yet, she looks at you like it is.

Like it always has been.

You catch yourself hesitating around her more often than not. There’s a strange discomfort in knowing something she doesn’t, in feeling the weight of the truth pressing against your ribs every time she smiles at you. You should tell her. You should set things straight.

But you don’t.

Instead, you find yourself falling into the rhythm of her new version of your life together.

You wake up with her in your arms, and you don’t pull away.

You sit together for breakfast, and when she instinctively places a peeled orange slice on your plate, you take it without thinking.

You come home from work to find her waiting, sometimes with dinner already prepared, other times with stories of her day, filling the house with a warmth that never quite existed before.

And slowly, day by day, you stop resisting.

You settle into married life again—but this time, without hesitation.

She reaches for you first. She falls asleep in your arms, waking up smiling at you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The distance that once defined your relationship is gone, replaced by something warm, something dangerously easy to believe in.

You let yourself fall into the illusion.

One evening, as you sit in the living room, Yooyeon is curled up beside you, flipping through an old photo album she found while reorganizing the shelves.

“Oh,” she says, her fingers tracing over a picture. “I remember this one.”

You glance over. It’s from a ski trip, a company retreat you attended together two winters ago. She had nearly sprained her wrist trying to prove she could keep up with the more experienced skiers. You had ended up guiding her down the slope, an arm around her waist, both of you laughing as she barely managed to stay upright.

“You do?” you ask, cautious.

“Sort of,” she hums. “It’s faint. More like… I remember how I felt.”

You watch her quietly. “And how did you feel?”

She turns to you with a small smile. “Happy.”

Your chest tightens.

There are other moments, too—soft, fleeting, but impossible to ignore.

Nights spent in the kitchen, cooking together, bumping into each other as you move around the stove. She steals bites of whatever you’re preparing, grinning at you when you feign irritation.

Late-night talks, lying in bed with the lights off, her voice quiet but filled with warmth as she tells you about all the things she wants to do, all the places she wants to see. And for the first time, you let yourself imagine being there with her.

She steals kisses—teasingly, playfully, like you’ve always been in love. A kiss on the cheek as she passes by, a lingering press of her lips to yours just before bed. At first, it startles you, but then you start to expect it. Crave it.

And before you realize it, you start kissing her back.

You begin to dream of a life where this isn’t just a lie.

Another time, during dinner, she asks a question you aren’t prepared for.

“What was our first date like?”

You pause, chopsticks hovering midair. “Our first date?”

She nods eagerly, resting her chin in her hand. “I was thinking about it earlier. I tried to remember, but I couldn’t, so… tell me.”

You exhale slowly, setting your chopsticks down. A smile tugs at your lips, unbidden. “You don’t remember sneaking out of that charity banquet when we were seventeen and eating instant ramen at a convenience store?”

Her eyes widen in surprise before a small, delighted laugh escapes her. “That was a date?”

“You called it one,” you say, smirking. “Said it was the best meal you ever had.”

She hums, thoughtful, before grinning. “I must’ve been charming back then.”

“You still are,” you murmur without thinking.

Her expression softens. Then she tilts her head playfully. “That’s cute, but I meant a real date. You know—one where we both knew what it was.”

You hesitate, because you know what she’s really asking.

There was never a first date in the way she’s imagining—no sweet, nervous anticipation, no deliberate choice to step into something romantic. Your relationship had always been tangled in something more complicated.

But now, as she looks at you with expectation, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the edge of her napkin, you find yourself saying—

“Then let’s have one.”

She blinks. “What?”

“A first date,” you say simply, watching her reaction. “One you can remember.”

Her face brightens, eyes gleaming with something warm, something real. “Okay,” she says, smiling. “Let’s do it.”

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—this doesn’t have to be a lie.

You don’t realize when you stop overthinking things.

When she slides her hand into yours while walking through a park, you don’t flinch.

When she leans against you while watching a movie, you don’t stiffen.

When she laughs at something you say, her whole face lighting up, you don’t look away.

And one day, you catch yourself smiling at her when she isn’t looking.

The feeling that stirs inside you is unfamiliar and familiar all at once.

Because the truth is—you’ve always had feelings for her.

You just never let yourself acknowledge them before.

But now, standing in the middle of a life that feels almost real, you wonder if this is a sign.

A sign that maybe, just maybe, you can start again.

And maybe—just maybe—you don’t have to tell her the truth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yooyeon stood in front of the mirror, carefully adjusting the delicate bracelet around her wrist. A soft hum of excitement bubbled in her chest as she checked her reflection one last time. Their first real date—the kind she had always dreamed of. She wanted today to be perfect. Not because it had to be, but because it already felt like it would be.

She had spent the past hour choosing the right outfit, something that felt effortless yet pretty, hoping he would notice. Hoping he would look at her the way she was starting to look at him.

By the time she stepped out of the bedroom, he was already waiting near the door. His gaze flickered over her, lingering just long enough for warmth to spread through her.

“You look nice,” he said simply, his voice softer than usual.

She grinned. “Only nice?”

He exhaled a small chuckle, shaking his head as if she was impossible. Then, more sincerely—“Beautiful.”

Her breath caught. She wanted to tease him, but the way he said it, like he meant it, left her speechless. Before she could find the words, he extended his hand.

A simple gesture. A quiet offering.

She took it without hesitation, her fingers slipping between his, fitting as if they belonged there. He gave her hand a small squeeze, and together, they stepped out into the world beyond their home.

The day unfolded like something out of a dream.

Their first stop was a small bakery-café, the kind nestled between old bookstores and cozy boutiques. It smelled like fresh bread and vanilla, warmth curling in the air like an embrace. Yooyeon picked a selection of pastries for them to share, carefully choosing the ones she thought he would like.

She watched with barely contained excitement as he took a bite of a strawberry tart.

“It’s good,” he admitted, chewing thoughtfully.

“Good?” She gasped, placing a dramatic hand over her chest. “This is art.”

His lips quirked into a smirk. “Alright, it’s art.”

Satisfied, she took her own bite, savoring the sweetness. The café was quiet, filled with the murmur of soft conversations and the gentle notes of a piano melody playing in the background. She found herself stealing glances at him, memorizing the rare ease in his expression, the way the afternoon sunlight kissed his skin.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like they weren’t pretending.

The movie theater was next. She had picked a lighthearted romantic comedy, wanting to keep the mood playful. He hadn’t protested, only giving her an unreadable glance when she insisted it would be fun.

It was.

She found herself laughing at the silliest scenes, and every now and then, when she peeked at him, she caught the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. He wasn’t laughing outright, but he was watching her more than the movie, and somehow, that made her heart flutter more than anything on the screen.

At one point, when she reached for the popcorn, their hands brushed. Neither of them moved.

Slowly, he intertwined their fingers beneath the dim glow of the screen.

Her heart stuttered. She squeezed his hand lightly.

He squeezed back.

By afternoon, they had made their way to the park, where a small picnic awaited them. She had planned it in advance, packing simple homemade sandwiches and fresh fruit. The air was crisp, the sky stretching endlessly above them, and for a while, they simply enjoyed the peacefulness.

Yooyeon leaned against him, letting her head rest against his shoulder. He didn’t move away. Instead, his hand found its way into her hair, his fingers brushing through it absentmindedly.

Her heart melted.

“I think this is the first time we’ve actually done something like this,” she murmured.

“Like what?”

“Spent a whole day together… just being a normal couple.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, in a voice so low she almost missed it—

“Yeah.”

She smiled, closing her eyes for a brief second, savoring the warmth of him. The world felt quieter like this. Like it had shrunk to just the two of them, existing in a space untouched by the past.

She wanted to stay in this moment forever.

Night had fallen by the time they reached their final stop—a quiet hill overlooking the cityscape. From afar, the lights twinkled like stars, stretching far beyond what the eye could see. The air was cool, crisp against her skin, but standing beside him, she barely noticed.

“I used to come here alone sometimes,” he admitted, his voice softer, more open. “Just to think.”

Yooyeon turned to him, searching his face. “And now?”

He looked at her then—really looked at her. As if seeing her for the first time. As if realizing something he hadn’t before.

“Now, I think I’d rather share it with you.”

Her breath hitched.

The moment stretched between them, delicate and charged.

Without thinking, she stepped closer, lifting a hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing over his skin. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, leaning into her touch, like it was something he had been waiting for.

Her gaze flickered to his lips.

The tension thickened, the world around them fading until there was nothing left but the space between them.

She moved first, closing the distance, pressing her lips to his in a kiss so soft, so tender, it felt like a secret. He inhaled sharply against her mouth, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer.

The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, filled with something warm and terrifyingly sweet.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless. He pressed his forehead against hers, eyes closed as if grounding himself.

“Maybe we should go home,” he murmured, voice husky.

Yooyeon nodded, still dazed. “Yeah.”

He took her hand again, this time holding it a little tighter as they made their way back.

And deep down, she knew—tonight wasn’t over just yet.

The drive home is quiet, but not tense. Her fingers remain laced with yours the entire way, her grip firm—like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go. You don’t say anything about it. You just hold on.

By the time you step through the door, the house feels different. Warmer, despite the lingering shadows. It’s strange how just her presence can make it feel like home again.

Neither of you turn on the lights. There’s no need. The dim glow from the night city lights outside is enough to guide you through the familiar space. Without a word, you both make your way to the bedroom, as if some unspoken understanding pulls you forward.

And now—here you are.

Sitting side by side at the edge of the bed, your hands still loosely linked. The weight of the night settles over you, thick with all the words that haven’t been spoken yet.

You steal a glance at her, only to find her already looking at you. There’s something different in her eyes tonight—not just longing, not just resolve, but something deeper. Something that makes your breath catch.

You thought you had lost her. And maybe, in a way, you did. But now she’s here, choosing you—not because of old memories, not because of a past you held onto alone, but because of now.

And that’s when it hits you.

You had loved her before. Loved her in quiet ways, in restrained touches, in the unspoken words that always hovered on the tip of your tongue. But now—now, you’ve fallen again. Harder. Deeper.

She tilts her head slightly, waiting. For you to speak, for you to move, for you to reassure her that this isn’t a mistake.

You exhale, threading your fingers through hers, squeezing once. “Yooyeon…”

Her name feels different when you say it this time—like something new and familiar all at once.

She smiles, small but real, and she pressed her lips against you.

And just like that, you fall all over again.

She pulls away, her lips barely parting from yours as she searches your face. There’s warmth in her gaze, a quiet certainty that makes your chest tighten. Then, she smiles—soft, unwavering.

You cradle her face in your hands, and she leans into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if memorizing the feel of you.

You kiss her again. This time, there’s no hesitation—just slow, unhurried intimacy, deepening with every passing second.

Her hands rest lightly against your chest, fingers curling slightly against the fabric of your shirt. You can feel her heartbeat, unsteady yet eager, mirroring your own.

Your hand slides up the smooth curve of her thigh, fingers ghosting over her soft skin before slipping under the hem of her skirt. She shudders but doesn’t pull away—if anything, she presses closer, her breath coming faster, anticipation thick in the space between you.

Your lips break apart just as her gaze flickers down—drawn to the movement of your hand between her legs. She knows what’s coming. She wants it.

Without hesitation, your fingers slip beneath her panties, gliding over her soaked heat. A slow, teasing stroke along her slit makes her breath hitch, her thighs twitching in response. You find her clit, circling it with deliberate pressure, and she gasps—soft at first, then louder as your touch grows bolder.

Her head drops onto your shoulder, her body sagging into you, surrendering. You let your free hand tangle in her hair, stroking her, keeping her close as she clings to your other arm. Her grip tightens whenever you rub just right, her body reacting instinctively, desperately.

She’s soaked now, dripping, her slickness coating your fingers as you ease one inside her. She tenses, then relaxes, her walls fluttering around you as you curl your finger, testing, teasing.

“Hnnng…” A breathy moan spills from her lips, her body trembling against yours.

She leans into you, eyes wide and desperate as they lock onto yours—raw, pleading, and hungry for more. You can tell she’s craving every inch of this moment, and you’re more than ready to deliver.

“Can... can I—like, you... lie down?” she asks shyly, her voice low and breathy.

“Sure,” you reply, a mix of confusion and intrigue in your tone as you both head for the bed. Once there, she starts undressing, and you watch, not quite sure what she’s planning.

“Should I... too?” you ask with a playful smirk.

“Ye—yes,” she stammers, her voice thick with anticipation.

Before long, you’re shedding your shirt, pants, and boxers, leaving you completely bare as you wait for Yooyeon to finish. With a final, deliberate move, she slips off her soaked panties, revealing everything. Her eyes linger hungrily on your throbbing package, and after a deep, steadying breath, she crawls over and positions herself on top of you.

Meeting your gaze, she confesses, “It’s because... last time, you teased me way too much,” her cheeks flushing with both embarrassment and desire.

Before you can even reach out for a cuddle, her hand finds your cock, stroking it with a confident, teasing rhythm.

“Yooyeon...” you murmur, barely above a whisper.

Without missing a beat, she shifts so that her dripping, slick pussy meets your throbbing tip. Her natural juices make every touch wet and irresistible.

“Hnnng…” she breathes as she slowly pushes down on you, her warm, inviting opening taking you in inch by inch. Her body settles over yours, fully engulfing you as she adjusts to the sensation.

Then. Her hips start moving—first slow and deliberate, then quickening into a relentless, pulsing rhythm. The heat of her body surrounds you as she rides you hard, every thrust drawing you deeper into a night of raw, unfiltered passion.

“I can feel it twitch…” she breathes, her voice husky as she asks, “Do—does it feel good?”

“Yeah, Yooyeon… it feels amazing,” you reply, your words thick with desire.

Your lips collide, entangling in a deep, fervent kiss as your fingers cradle her cheeks. The kiss intensifies, every touch stoking the fire between you. Rising slightly, she quickens her pace—her desperation unmistakable as she chases her own pleasure.

Before long, exhaustion begins to claim her, and her movements slow; yet even as she gasps for air, her hips remain insistent, grinding slowly despite her fatigue. Sensing an unspoken urge, you murmur, “Yooyeon, there’s something I want to try,” offering an excuse in case she’s too shy to ask outright.

A quick nod is all you need. You reposition her gently to your side, guiding her so that her head rests on your arm. With her back to you, you slide into her again, savoring the fresh angle as both your rhythms realign. Her moans return, matching the new, steady pace that builds once more.

As your hands explore, hers finds yours, fingers interlocking tightly as the intensity escalates. Your other hand wanders over her breasts, teasing her hardened nipples with every deliberate stroke. “I’m—I'm close,” Yooyeon confesses, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Noticing her gaze drifting back to you, you grasp her chin and pull her into another searing kiss, your tongues dancing together. Shifting once again, you climb atop her, pressing her flat against the bed as you prepare to drive her to the edge. “I’m close too,” you murmur between kisses, the admission fusing your sensations into one.

The pace quickens; her moans grow louder, her movements erratic as both your breaths come in ragged bursts. The heat between you becomes almost unbearable, every thrust and every touch amplifying the approaching climax. “Cum with me… please,” she pleads, her voice raw with need.

In that electrifying moment, her body convulses in overwhelming pleasure. You feel your own climax surge through you as you pull away, releasing your heated burst onto her back. The space between you, though charged with the remnants of passion, holds the echo of every gasp, every moan, and every shared moment of unbridled ecstasy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lying in bed, Yooyeon feels the warmth of his arm draped over her waist, the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back. The room is dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of the city outside. She should be at peace, comforted by his presence—yet something gnaws at her, an unease she can’t quite place.

She traces slow circles on the back of his hand with her fingertips, a habit that feels instinctual, familiar, though she can’t remember why. The motion soothes her, but the ache in her chest lingers. Without thinking, she murmurs,

“You always used to hate holding hands.”

His entire body stiffens.

She feels it instantly—the tension in his muscles, the way his breath halts for a split second before resuming, just a little too controlled.

She blinks, turning to look at him. His face is carefully blank, but she knows better now. Knows enough to recognize the way his guard snaps into place.

“…Didn’t you?” she presses, searching his face for an answer.

He exhales slowly, withdrawing his hand. “I don’t remember saying that.”

But she knows he does.

Her memories aren’t whole—just flickers, shadows of something real but unreachable. Yet, in those fragments, there’s a truth she can’t ignore.

She starts noticing it more—the subtle moments when he pulls away. The slight hesitation before he responds to her touch. The darkness in his eyes when she speaks too easily of their love.

And it starts to hurt.

One night, the weight of it all crashes into her. “Why do you act like this?” she asks, voice trembling. “Like you’re afraid of me?”

His expression hardens. “I’m not.”

“You are,” she insists, stepping closer. “I see it in your eyes. Every time I talk about us, about our past, you look at me like—” Her throat tightens. “Like you’re waiting for something to fall apart.”

His jaw clenches. He looks away. “Yooyeon, drop it.”

But she can’t. She won’t.

“Why did we choose the beach?” she asks suddenly, searching his face for the truth she feels slipping through her fingers.

His arm stiffens around her shoulders. “You wanted something grand.”

No. The memory surfaces, unbidden. I wanted it small. Private. Just us.

His gaze is raw, almost pained, as if she’s a ghost he can’t touch. When she reaches for him, he hesitates—a heartbeat too long—before brushing a kiss to her temple.

Something inside her cracks.

The fear she’s been trying to suppress rises to the surface, wrapping around her throat, making it hard to breathe. She needs to hear it. Needs him to say it.

“Did you love me from the start?” she whispers in bed that night, her palm flat against his chest, feeling the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat.

He goes still. Seconds stretch into something unbearable before he answers,

“Yes.”

But it’s the wrong kind of yes—heavy with guilt, not devotion.

She sits up, the sheets pooling around her. “Then why does it feel like you’re lying to me?”

His jaw tightens. Moonlight catches the sheen of sweat at his temple.

“Yooyeon—”

“Tell me the truth.” Her voice cracks. “Please.”

He turns away, his silhouette rigid against the night. “You’re still recovering. We shouldn’t—”

“Stop treating me like I’ll break!” The words burst out sharper than she intends. When she grabs his wrist, he flinches.

He actually flinches.

Her breath catches. “You… you’re scared of me.”

“No.” But his pulse is racing beneath her fingers.

“Then why won’t you look at me?” She cups his face, forcing his gaze to meet hers. What she sees there steals the air from her lungs—anguish, regret, something deeper, darker.

His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“Because when you remember everything… you’ll wish I hadn’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You notice it the moment you step inside.

The air feels different—thicker, colder, heavy in a way that has nothing to do with temperature. Some of the lights are off, casting the house in an eerie dimness, as if it were holding its breath.

And Yooyeon—she isn’t there to greet you.

That alone makes you pause. Even on days when she’s distracted, even when she’s lost in thought, she always turns at the sound of the door unlocking. Always lifts her head, always meets your gaze.

But tonight, she doesn’t.

Your chest tightens. You don’t even take off your coat before stepping further inside, following the faint glow of the living room lamp.

Then you see her.

She’s sitting on the couch, unnaturally still. Her hands rest in her lap as if she’s forcing them to stay there. But it’s her eyes that give her away—locked onto something on the table, unblinking.

A single sheet of paper.

Something prickles at the back of your neck.

“…Yooyeon.”

She flinches. It’s subtle, barely noticeable, but you catch it.

Then, like a switch, she turns to you, a smile flickering onto her lips—too practiced, too forced. “You’re home.”

Your gut twists. Something is wrong.

Still, you don’t press. You nod, greeting her quietly. She nods back, but her fingers tighten against the fabric of her dress, her nervousness seeping into you.

You tell yourself to let it go. To wait. If it’s important, she’ll bring it up.

So you step away, heading toward your home office. The silence follows you.

You place your briefcase down, reaching for the drawer to put away your documents—

—and stop.

The drawer is open.

Your heart stutters.

It shouldn’t be. You always keep it locked. You always make sure.

Your breath is shallow as your eyes lower—and then you see it.

The contract.

The one detailing everything. The terms of your marriage.

The proof of how pragmatic your relationship was.

The paper that stands in direct contrast to the warmth you’ve built with her now.

Your pulse pounds.

Yooyeon.

She saw it.

You’re moving before you can think, your footsteps brisk as you retrace your steps, each second stretching unbearably long.

When you step into the living room again, she’s already looking at you.

Panic. That’s what you see first. She opens her mouth, stumbling over her words, voice thin and desperate, like she’s trying to contain a flood. “I—I found it when I was cleaning. I didn’t mean to pry, I just—”

She stops, swallowing hard. Then, softer, like she already knows she won’t like the answer:

“…What does it mean?”

Your throat tightens.

The weight of it crashes between you, an invisible force pressing against your chest, against your ribs.

She knows.

She doesn’t know.

Not completely. Not yet. But she’s one breath away from understanding.

You could lie. You could say it was nothing. That it was just an old, forgotten document. You could keep pretending.

But you don’t.

Because the truth is already here, unraveling between you.

You exhale, stepping forward, your voice quiet, steady.

“Yooyeon… there’s something I need to tell you.”

The silence is suffocating.

Yooyeon doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. You see it in her eyes. The confusion, the disbelief, the quiet, desperate hope that this isn’t what she thinks it is.

You wish you could spare her. Wish you could rewind to a moment before she found that damned contract, before she looked at you with that kind of fragile, breaking expression.

But you can’t.

So you force yourself to meet her gaze, force yourself to let the truth spill before it’s too late.

“Our marriage wasn’t… real. At least, not the way you think it was.”

Her breath catches.

You don’t look away. “It was arranged. A contract. Your parents and mine, they wanted us to marry. We went along with it.”

Her lips part, but no words come out. You can see the gears turning in her head, the memories she’s tried so hard to piece together now twisting into something cruel, something she never saw coming.

She swallows. “So… so you’re saying…” Her voice shakes. “It was all fake?”

Something twists in your chest.

“No,” you say immediately. Desperately. “No, I—” You drag a hand down your face, frustration clawing at you. “It wasn’t like that. Not for me.”

She flinches.

And that’s when it happens—the moment her heart breaks.

You can see it, feel it, the way her entire body tenses like she’s trying to hold herself together, but the cracks are already there, spreading, widening.

“…Every time you told me you loved me,” she whispers, “was it just part of the act?”

“Yooyeon.” Your voice is strained, pleading. “I didn’t lie about loving you. I just never had the courage to tell you the truth.”

She stares at you.

Then she lets out a quiet, shaky laugh—one that isn’t amused at all.

She takes a step back. Then another.

Your stomach drops.

She’s leaving.

You don’t know where, don’t know if she even has anywhere to go, but she’s walking away from you.

“Yooyeon, wait—”

She shakes her head. “I need to think.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I just… I need to think.”

Everything in you screams to stop her. To explain, to beg, to do anything but let her go.

But you don’t.

Instead, you inhale sharply and take a step back first.

“I’ll give you space,” you say, though it nearly kills you. “But don’t leave. Please.”

She hesitates.

You reach for her hand—just barely, just enough for her to know you would still hold on if she let you.

And finally, finally, she exhales, her shoulders dropping as if she’s too exhausted to fight anymore.

“…Okay,” she whispers.

She stays.

But the distance between you has never felt wider.

You exhale, slow and measured, though everything inside you is fraying at the edges.

“I’ll stay at a hotel,” you say, voice quiet but firm. “For as long as you need.”

Yooyeon doesn’t respond right away. She’s still looking at you like she doesn’t know who you are anymore. Like she’s seeing you for the first time and hating that she ever trusted you.

It’s unbearable.

“I don’t want you to feel trapped here,” you continue, forcing the words out despite the knot in your throat. “I don’t want you to think I’m keeping you in a place built on lies.”

Her breath stutters, but she quickly masks it. She’s still trying to be strong.

You wish she wouldn’t.

You wish she’d yell at you, cry, say something that doesn’t feel like an unbearable silence stretching between you.

“Okay,” she finally whispers.

You nod, forcing yourself to move. To walk away first, even when every instinct in you screams to stay.

But before you reach the door, her voice stops you.

“How long?”

You turn, eyes meeting hers.

“How long were you going to keep this from me?” she asks, arms wrapping around herself. “If I hadn’t found out… would you have ever told me?”

The truth is cruel, but it’s the only thing she deserves now.

“…I don’t know.”

Yooyeon swallows, then looks away.

That’s when you realize—you’ve broken something that might never be fixed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yooyeon wakes up alone.

The bed feels bigger now, colder, the silence stretching around her like an unwelcome embrace. She lies there for a moment, staring at the empty space beside her, before finally sitting up.

Another day.

She moves through the house like a ghost, her footsteps quiet, her routine unchanged—yet everything feels different. The kitchen table where they used to share quiet breakfasts, the couch where he used to sit, sifting through papers while she curled up beside him. It’s all the same, and yet it isn’t.

Because he’s not here.

He never called. Never came back.

She should be relieved. This is what she wanted, wasn’t it? Space. Time.

But instead, all she feels is this aching loneliness.

Her eyes fall to the coffee table, where the contract still sits, edges curled from how often she’s touched it, read it, searched it for something—anything—that could make this hurt less.

Each word, each line, feels heavier now. A binding agreement, an arrangement born from necessity. But as the days pass, as she reads it over and over, something in her shifts.

It was never just that.

Her mind drifts back to that night—his voice, raw with emotion.

"I didn’t lie about loving you. I just never had the courage to tell you the truth."

She remembers the way he looked at her, desperate, conflicted, afraid. She hadn’t been able to see it then, too consumed by the betrayal, by the weight of everything she didn’t know. But now, with time, with distance—

Hadn’t she felt the same way?

She rests a hand over the contract, fingers trembling slightly.

Her memories come in fragments. Unclear at first, like pieces of a puzzle she can’t quite fit together. But slowly—painfully, inevitably—they start to return.

She remembers loving him. Wanting him. Long before marriage was even a question.

They had been friends first, before their parents had forced them together. But she had never felt trapped, had never resented the idea. Because she had wanted it too.

She had been happy, at first. Happy at the opportunity to be something more, to step into a future where she could love him freely.

But then—she hesitated.

Fear had crept in, silencing her before she could say the words, before she could risk what they already had. She had told herself it was better this way. Safer.

And then—

The accident.

The memories she had lost. The love she had forgotten.

Yooyeon lets out a shaky breath, pressing her palm against her forehead.

She had already fallen for him before the marriage.

And now—she's not going to lose him again.

She already lost him once to her memories. She won’t let it happen a second time.

It doesn’t matter how it all started, doesn’t matter what had happened before. She had fallen for him before. More importantly is that she fell for him again.

She loves him. Now.

And that’s enough.

Her hands tighten around the contract for a moment before she exhales, setting it aside. She grabs her coat, her keys. She needs to see him.

She needs to fix this.

Without another thought, she heads for the door, heart pounding as she makes her way to his hotel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t expecting her.

Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

Days had passed, stretching into something unbearable, something you forced yourself to endure because it was what she needed. Space. Time. A chance to decide if she even wanted to come back.

You had told yourself you wouldn’t wait forever. That if she wanted to leave, you would let her. That you wouldn’t be selfish—not anymore.

But when the knock comes, sharp and hesitant against the hotel door, your heart betrays you.

You open it, and there she is.

Yooyeon stands in the dim hallway, arms wrapped around herself, eyes flickering with uncertainty. Her hair is slightly damp, as if she’d rushed here without thinking twice. Her lips part, as if searching for something to say—something to explain why she’s here at all.

But then she steps forward.

Her hands reach for you first, fingers curling into your shirt, and before you can ask, before you can even breathe—

She kisses you.

It’s not careful. Not hesitant. Not like before.

It’s deep, unrestrained, filled with something desperate and aching, like she’s trying to grasp something that’s always felt just out of reach.

You’re stunned. For half a second, your body locks up—because how could you have prepared for this? For her? For the way she clings to you, pressing herself close like she’s afraid to let go?

And then you give in.

Your arms wrap around her, pulling her fully into you, returning the kiss with everything you’ve held back for too long.

She came back.

She wants this.

When she finally pulls away, her forehead rests against yours, breaths mingling in the small space between you. “I don’t want to remember a love we pretended to have.” Her voice is quiet, steady despite the way her fingers tremble against your chest. “I want to love you for real.”

The words hit harder than you expect.

You swallow, pressing your lips together, hands tightening at her waist. “Are you sure?”

Her answer is immediate. “Yes.”

And that’s all you need.

You don’t know how you make it to the bed. Only that she doesn’t let go. That every step, every kiss, every touch feels like something slipping back into place—like something that had always been there, waiting to be found.

She’s warm against you, tucked under the sheets, her body curled into yours as if she belongs there.

And maybe she does.

Her head rests against your chest, fingers playing absently with the fabric of your shirt. She’s quiet, but not distant. Not like before.

You hesitate, then run a hand down her back, slow, deliberate. She shivers, but doesn’t pull away.

“I thought I lost you,” you admit, voice low in the quiet.

She shifts, tilting her head up to meet your gaze. In the dim light, her eyes are soft, filled with something painfully tender.

“I won’t leave you,” she murmurs.

You inhale sharply.

She presses her hand against your chest, right where your heartbeat pounds—steady, strong.

“Not again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Their steps were slow, unhurried, yet every kiss, every touch, pulled them further inside, as if gravity itself was drawing them together. Yooyeon wasn’t even sure who was leading. It didn’t matter. Between soft sighs and the heat of his hands on her waist, guiding her closer, she only realized they had reached the bed when the backs of her knees met the edge.

She looked up at him, breathless, her pulse thrumming with anticipation. There was no hesitation this time, no uncertainty. Just them.

She kissed him again, rising onto her toes to meet him, her lips warm and insistent. He responded without pause, deepening the kiss, his hands steady on her waist as he pulled her closer. The sensation of him, solid and warm, sent a shiver racing down her spine.

Then, he pulled away just enough to rise above her, his gaze heavy with intent. Yooyeon’s breath caught, her skin buzzing with anticipation as his fingers found the hem of her sweater. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted it, the fabric sliding over her skin, gathering just above her chest. Cool air met the warmth of her body, sending a shiver through her as her stomach and the lace-covered swell of her breasts were revealed to him.

Her heart pounded as he leaned down, his lips tracing a slow, unhurried path along her jaw, then lower, down the delicate curve of her neck. Every press of his mouth left her skin tingling, warmth pooling deep inside her. His hands followed, tender yet assured, cupping her breasts, his thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks. A quiet sigh escaped her, her back arching instinctively into his touch, silently urging him on.

His fingers skimmed the slope of her waist, tracing along her ribs before venturing lower. The anticipation made her breath stutter, her senses sharpening as his hand found the waistband of her jeans. She felt his fingers slip past the fabric with ease, the heat of his touch pressing against the thin lace of her panties.

A sharp breath hitched in her throat as he explored, teasing at her center with slow, deliberate strokes. The sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure curling through her. She clung to his shoulders, her grip tightening as he pushed her further into sensation—patient, unhurried, savoring every reaction she gave him.

Beside her, his warmth enveloped her, grounding her even as his fingers continued their slow, teasing rhythm. Every movement was precise, coaxing, igniting a fire deep within her. She could feel the way her hips responded, rising instinctively to meet his touch, chasing the pleasure he so expertly drew from her.

Her breath came in quiet, uneven gasps, each one only spurring him on. His gaze flickered between her flushed face and the way her body moved under his touch, drinking in every sound, every shiver.

Then, seamlessly, their position shifted. He sat up, pulling her with him, his arms wrapping around her as he cradled her against his chest. Her head rested against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, her breath shaky, her body trembling in his hold. Yet his hand remained between her thighs, never faltering, never rushing—just holding her there, guiding her deeper into sensation.

She clung to him, her fingers gripping his shirt as if anchoring herself against the pleasure that threatened to consume her entirely.

“Yooyeon…” He whispers her name, his voice deep and coaxing.

His free hand stroked her hair, tender and grounding—a stark contrast to the way his other hand moved with aching precision. She gasped, thighs trembling around his wrist, and he tightened his hold around her, murmuring soft reassurances against her temple.

She could feel his arousal pressing against her through his pants, heat radiating from him. Instinctively, her hand drifted down, palm grazing over the rigid outline. A quiet sigh escaped him at her touch.

“I want to make you feel good,” she whispered, her voice laced with quiet desire.

A silent agreement passed between them as he slowly withdrew his hand from between her thighs, releasing her just long enough to let them shift.

Yooyeon pulled her sweater over her head, the fabric slipping away to reveal bare skin beneath. He helped her, his fingers grazing along her arms as he eased it off. She returned the gesture, undoing the buttons of his shirt, pushing it from his shoulders, baring him to her touch.

Piece by piece, they undressed—her bra, her jeans, the soft slide of lace slipping down her legs until nothing remained between them. She moved closer, hands finding the buckle of his belt, unfastening it with deliberate care. He watched her, breath shallow, as she worked the zipper down, easing his pants over his hips and letting them pool at his feet.

Left only in his boxers, his arousal strained against the fabric, the tension between them thick with anticipation. Settling between his legs, Yooyeon reached for the waistband, fingers curling around it as she tugged it down, inch by inch. The moment the fabric gave way, his erection sprang free, no longer bound by restraint.

She glanced up at him, lips slightly parted, her breath warm against his skin. He looked down at her, eyes dark with something between restraint and longing.

“Yooyeon… you don’t have to,” he murmured, his voice low, hesitant.

She shook her head, her heart aching at how gentle he was with her. “But I want to.”

And she did. It wasn’t just about desire—it was something deeper, something that went beyond the heat simmering between them. She wanted to show him how much he meant to her, how much she trusted him, how much she loved him. Every touch he had given her had been filled with tenderness, with devotion. She wanted to give that back to him now, to see him unravel because of her.

Holding his gaze, she leaned in, letting her lips brush against him first—soft, deliberate, reverent. His breath caught. Encouraged, she let her tongue flick out, tasting him, before slowly taking him into her mouth. He twitched against her tongue, and a quiet groan slipped from his lips. The sound sent warmth curling through her, not just from arousal, but from the knowledge that she could bring him pleasure like this. That he would let her. That he wanted her to.

She moved slowly, savoring the weight of him, the heat, the way his fingers threaded through her hair—not to guide her, not to demand, but simply to touch, to hold. His restraint was palpable, and it only made her more determined to make him feel good.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and the sight of him nearly stole her breath. His jaw was clenched, his brows drawn together, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. But it was his eyes that struck her most—heavy-lidded, filled with something deep, something raw. It wasn’t just lust. It was trust. It was need. It was him letting her in, completely.

She took him deeper, her fingers gripping his thighs as she found a rhythm—slow, unhurried, giving him everything she had. She wanted him to feel it—to feel her. To know that this was more than just pleasure, that it was her love, her devotion, poured into every movement.

“Yooyeon…” His voice was strained, rough with need.

She stilled immediately, understanding him without question. He wasn’t asking her to stop—he just wanted something different. Something more.

He reached for her, his hands open, waiting. Without hesitation, she took them, letting him guide her up, pulling her closer.

She followed his lead, moving effortlessly into his lap, their bodies pressing together as she settled atop him. Face to face now, her knees hugged his sides, her chest brushing against his with every breath. A sharp shiver ran through her as she felt him—hot, hard, pressing against her stomach, the intimacy of their position making her pulse race.

She gazed at him, her fingers trailing over his shoulders, his neck, his jaw, memorizing every inch of him. His eyes, dark and unreadable, searched hers, and for a moment, they simply breathed together, held in the gravity of this moment.

Slowly, tenderly, she leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss—one filled with everything she couldn’t say out loud.

But she wanted to show him. To give him everything.

Her gaze drifted downward as she reached between them, her fingers grazing along his hardness, feeling the heat of him against her palm. A quiet shiver ran through her as she caressed him, taking her time, savoring the way he responded to her touch. With careful precision, she guided him, adjusting her position, her body instinctively preparing to take him in.

And then, without hesitation, she moved.

A quiet gasp left her lips as she slowly enveloped him, her body stretching to accommodate him, every inch sending waves of sensation through her. Her arms wrapped around his neck, seeking both support and connection, her forehead resting briefly against his as she took a steadying breath.

She felt him—deep, warm, filling her completely. But more than anything, what she felt was joy. A slow, radiant smile formed on her lips as she met his gaze, her heart swelling with something beyond just pleasure.

And then, as if that smile was all the invitation he needed, he began to move.

The first thrust sent a sharp, sweet pleasure rippling through her, her breath catching before it spilled out in a quiet moan. The next had her clutching onto him, overwhelmed by the intensity of feeling. The sound of their mingled breaths, the heat between them, the way their bodies moved together—it was all-consuming.

She melted into him, lost in the rhythm, lost in him.

The intensity overwhelmed him, and he fell back, bringing her with him. A gasp left Yooyeon’s lips as she followed, her body molding against his as his thrusts remained unrelenting. His hands moved to her hips, then lower, gripping her firmly as he guided her movements, driving her deeper into pleasure.

She felt the heat, the desperation between them, the way their bodies refused to part even for a second. Every movement sent another wave of sensation crashing through her, pushing her closer to the edge.

But she wanted more than just the pleasure. She wanted him—completely.

Yooyeon cupped his face, her fingers threading into his damp hair as she looked down at him. His jaw was clenched, his brows furrowed, lost in the sheer intensity of their connection. She could see it, feel it—the tension coiling tight within him.

So she kissed him.

Soft at first, then deeper, her lips parting to welcome him, their tongues meeting in a slow, tangled dance. She poured herself into the kiss, coaxing, soothing, grounding him even as the pleasure consumed them both.

And slowly, she felt him relax beneath her, surrendering to her touch, to her.

As his pace became less erratic, she adjusted, matching his rhythm with newfound confidence. She learned his movements, feeling the way their bodies aligned, and slowly, she took control—rolling her hips in time with his, meeting each thrust with her own.

Their breaths synced, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

She felt it in the way he held her, in the way his hands tightened on her waist, guiding her but letting her lead. A quiet thrill coursed through her at the unspoken understanding between them, at the way he let her set the pace, trusting her, surrendering to her.

Their eyes met, locking in an intimate gaze, the world around them fading away. There were no words—there was no need for them. In that moment, everything was clear.

It was just them.

“Yooyeon… I’m close…” His voice was ragged, strained, barely holding on.

She gasped, her fingers tightening against his shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter inside her. “Me too…” she whispered, her breath hitching. Then, she met his gaze, her eyes soft, full of trust. “You can… it’s fine.”

A shudder ran through him at her words, at the quiet certainty in her voice.

And then, together, they unraveled.

His grip on her waist tightened as he thrust deep, his release spilling into her just as she came undone around him. A sharp, breathless cry escaped her lips as pleasure surged through her, overwhelming, consuming. She trembled in his arms, her body clinging to his as the waves of ecstasy pulsed through them both.

For a long moment, neither of them moved—just the sound of their breaths mingling, their bodies still entwined, the warmth of each other keeping them grounded.

Slowly, Yooyeon melted against his chest, her heart still racing, a soft, contented sigh escaping her.

They had never felt closer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up before her.

The first thing you notice is the weight of her arm draped over your chest, her fingers lightly curled against your skin. The second is how deeply she sleeps—peaceful, unguarded, as if she belongs here, as if there was never a time when she didn’t.

Something tight eases in your chest.

You should move, should slip away before she stirs, but you don’t. You just lie there, watching the slow rise and fall of her breathing, the way the early morning light catches the strands of her hair.

She came back.

Not out of obligation. Not because of memories.

But because she chose you.

Your fingers brush over her knuckles, tracing the shape of her hand. She shifts at the touch, her brows scrunching slightly before her eyes flutter open.

For a second, she blinks at you, dazed with sleep. Then, she smiles—small, warm, real. "You're staring."

You huff a quiet laugh. "You're the one who came here in the middle of the night and threw yourself at me."

She flushes, burying her face into your chest. "I did not throw myself at you."

"You did." You smirk, tightening your hold around her. "Not that I’m complaining."

She groans but doesn’t pull away, only presses closer. You feel the sigh she lets out, something soft and content against your skin.

Then, quieter, almost hesitant—“What happens now?”

Your grip on her tightens slightly.

Because the truth is, you don’t know.

There is no contract binding you anymore. No pretense of a marriage built on expectations, no excuse to hide behind the illusion of what you used to be.

There is only this—the love she chose to give you.

And you—the love you’ve always had for her.

You exhale, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “We take it one day at a time.”

She tilts her head up, searching your face. You meet her gaze, your voice quieter when you add, “And this time, we don’t hide.”

Her expression softens. She lifts a hand, cupping your cheek, her thumb brushing just below your eye.

"Okay," she whispers.

And just like that, it’s decided.

This time, it’s real.

No pretending. No distance.

Just you and her.

[rebelssvy]

babeeeeee you have me addicted to your roommates ushi x reader fic 😭 please make more with links 😭😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 maybe a tsukki x reader 👀 okie but also love the size difference kink showing in your fic too 😭😘👌 absolutely delish girl thank you for blessing us

FUCK yes. god YES i can.

cruel ✧.*

tsukishima x reader ₊˚ෆ

★ twt links included!!!!

⋆·˚ ༘ *

summary: you and tsuki are roomates, you go out to a party and he is just mean to you. so when you get home you embarrass him by going through his porn. smut, making out, twt links, squirting dirty talk all, male receiving head

twt links scattered in here. loved making this!!! request more babes.

of course you were overstepping. of course you had had a little to much to drink. but to be honest you were still fully aware of every move you had made tonight. it was all calculated.

you and your roommate tsukishima kei had found yourselfs at a party earlier that night. it was a friendly get together that turned into more of a party the longer it went on. sure you took some shots. but all of that was hours ago.

during the party you had been flirting with some of kei’s teammates. it was nothing bad of course. it was all far play. the music was bumping and the lights were flashing. truly it had turned into a house party. it wasn’t until tsuki had pulled you aside that your mood really flipped.

he could be cruel sometimes. a sharp mind and a sharper tongue, but he was also caring. in this moment all the lines were blurred.

whispering in your ear he spoke the words. “stop putting yourself out there your just going to embarrass yourself..” you gasped, pushed him back and left. like any sane person would. you ordered and uber walking out of the apartment complex and arrived at your shared apartment within minutes.

instead of wallowing in your pain, you created a master plan. one that was going to embarrass him so much that he would have no choice then apologize to you. you were quick to your room, changing into skimpy pjs and lacey under garments.

sure his comment hurt. but it hurt more coming from him. you liked him. after sharing an apartment with him for so long you two would laugh after his snarky comments. hitting him and telling him to treat you better in which he would reply, ‘yes y/n…’. so why did he pull you away tonight and degrade you? did he have a problem with you flirting? maybe..

shortly after you changed the locks to your home unlocked and he walked in. with his timing it seems like right after you left, he said goodbye to everyone and followed you shortly after.

“how did you get home?” he asked, taking off his hoodie and hanging it up. then proceeding to take his belongings out of his pant pockets.

then and there is struck you. your master plan.

you walked over to him, making sure you didn’t rush to fast, but just quick enough to close in on him. “took an uber..” you spoke quietly. almost to a whisper.

“huh? you what? why are you being so quiet..?” he asked tone slightly annoyed. hook, line, sinker. you had riled him up just enough.

“oh i don’t know…” you said now right next to him, back against the counter top. he stood above you. eyes linked with yours. he was obviously looking at all of you. all of you. he tilted his head to the side waiting for you to finish your sentence.

“maybe.. it’s because..” you had to sly about this. reaching behind you in a very smooth motion, you grabbed his phone into your hand. praying he didn’t notice until you had it firmly in your grasp.

“-because you made me feel stupid..!” you said sharp and bluntly pushing him on the chest with your open hand before taking quick strides back to your room. it was too late for him to realize what you had.

you were already at your door when he started “y/n! give me my phone back!” stumbling after you, you shut the door in his face. locking it quickly. he was right on the other side of the door. his knocks turned into pounds. then shortly he gave in.

“what did i do y/n… fuck- please i’m sorry just open the door.” he said pleading to you.

“no tsuki. you embarrassed me. you said i was trying to hard and i was going to embarrass myself. so now… im gonna embarrass you.” you said while a smile on your face. your mission was simple, find somthing so embarrassing that he wanted to cry, give his phone back. and he would apologize. simple.

you knew his password. of course you knew his password, when unlocking his phone he spoke again on the other side of the door. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said that. i didn’t know what i was thinking…” he said softly. it was sincere, but you were going to let this end that quickly.

you searched through his phone, going to his camera roll you looked for embarrassing photos of him in his pre-teens or maybe even as a kid. but the only thing you could find were younger pictures of him and he was adorable. this wasn’t going to work, you needed somthing better.

and there is was, your knight in shining armor. an app with a big white X on it. you knew you could find somthing on twitter right? ever guy had somthing on there… so he should right..?

before opening the app you decided to toy with him. just to make this whole thing more painful for him. “whatcha got on twitter kei? anything you want to tell me before i go through it?” you spoke with a joyful voice.

“god. y/n please don’t oh my god. i’m sorry. just don’t go into that app.” he pleaded more miserable then ever. that was your goal anyways.

“sorry i’m gonna do it anyways!” you laughed. and just like that you clicked into it. it had to be here somewhere… you thought.

like a beacon in the night, the likes tab revealed all. scrolling through countless videos of porn. something inside you shifted. maybe it was the way you heard him whisper “fuckk..” behind the door. or maybe it was that you had a full visual gallery of all his kinks. but you were growing needy, and it was clear to you.

you paused on certain videos, watching them longer than others. like the way this girl took her bfs cock down her throat and the way she was all tied up. it made you think about kei doing that to you. god! what were you thinking!

mindlessly you rubbed your legs together. the sound of him behind the door made your brain go fuzzy. “y/n just stop.. please..” he whispered. you couldn’t stop. you scrolled to the next one.

the next video was of a girl get railed right next to a pc monotor. her hands scrambled over the key board as she took rough back shots. your mind flashed to the set up kei had in his room. your mind flashed to him pounding into your cunt infront of his game. you having to be al’ quiet because the mic is still on. fuck. why were you thinking this. you forced yourself to remember you were still mad at him.

the next one a girl spread her legs in a public bathroom, forced to be quiet as her partner finger fucked her. spitting on her cunt. kei would be good with his fingers, is he seriously into the whole public thing? god seriously what is wrong with you! the need for him to do stuff to you was too much. your lust was replacing every emotion you had in you.

the last one really sent you over the edge. a video of a girl getting pounded, it is only about 30 seconds. and the entire 30 seconds is of her getting fucked through her orgasm. she soaks the camera with her liquid and is moaning through the whole thing. it was too much for you.

opening the door you met face to face with a deranged tsukishima. blushed and flushed his hair was a mess and his eyebrows furrowed with anxiety. there was something else though, the way his eyes were halfly litted and the way he looked down at you were your gaze met his. you needed him. and maybe, just maybe… he needed you too.

“tsuki…” you called his name out, bringing the phone up to his chest before taking it back into your hands and unlocking it. he didn’t say a word the whole time. “i’ve never squirted before…” you admitted before showing him the video. he recognized it. it was one he watched often.

“fuck.. y/n… what do you want. i’m sorry seriously. but… is this just a game to you? to get back at me?” he asked while taking his phone back. through it into his pant pocket.

“no.. it’s just… fuck tsuki-“ you cut yourself off. to afraid to cross that line. your gaze dropped to the ground. but somthing else caught your eye. his cock was prominent in his pants. it was big from the looks of it.

“tell me what you want.” his voice rang iut in the silence. confidence surged through your body. lust was overcoming every other emotion you had. any clear thought was gone.

“i want you to fuck me kei..!” it was music to his ears. before you knew it his body crashed into yours. he grabbed your face and pulled you in for a deep kiss. you moaned into his mouth. your noises made you embarrassed.

“fuck i love that… keep moaning for me please” he begged, almost reading your mind.

your back crashed into the wall next to your door frame. his hands traveled up and down your figure. your lips worked against each other. both of you needing more.

without second thought you broke the kiss and dropped to your knees. you really weren’t one for giving head, but for him…. you would do anything.

“y/n.. you don’t have to..” he said sincerely. you shook your head no, before freeing his cock from his pants and underwear. pulling them all down at once. it was beautiful. on the longer side, with a little girth. his balls were smaller. his tip was a nude pink. and fuck- your mouth drooled.

licking the tip, but a little. he groaned, hands flying to your hair, pulling it out of the way. you then licked all of it. before taking it into your mouth. back and fourth you bobbed your head. saliva slipping out of your mouth.

you gaged once or twice but it was short lived before he was pulling you to your feet and into his arms. lifting you up off the ground he mumbled the words “need more..” before making his way to his room.

gently resting you on the bed he stripped you of your clothing. making fast work of anything you had on, which already wasn’t much. your legs were closed before he pried them open. back flat on his bed, legs spread for him to see. you leaked on to his sheets. your wetness already overwhelming. his mind went silly.

“let me…” he said bringing his hand to your cunt. he sat infront of you on the bed, slightly angled but only to see your sopping pussy at full view. you moaned when he touched your folds. curling your clit your back arched off the bed.

it wasn’t until you lifted your hips into the air that he plunged one of his slender fingers into you. “fuck~ kei-!” you moaned out. your words were his motivation. he finger fucked you with grace. until he added a second one and you were squirming all around the place.

“fuck that too much for you baby?” he toyed. you clenched down on his fingers, enticed by is words. “you like that? you like when i fuck with you huh?” butterflies filled your stomach. he was too much.

“i need… you kei please please gimmie your cock..!” you moaned out, reaching for his length. only to grab his thigh and claw at it. searching for more.

“i’ll give you more baby…” he said while flipping you around. moving both your bodies in harmony while he kissed you with heat. you moaned into his mouth until you two broke for the position change.

it was in no time that he had you all stretched out around his long length. you were al spread for him. him underneath you, your back against his chest. his words rang out in your ears.

“knew you would like this position. been thinking about doing this to you al night. can’t fucking run away from his cock baby…” he fucked his dick into you. you were lacking of control. the only thing you could do was bounce on it.

“fucking been thinking of fuckin you like this for ages. getting to whisper in your ear and play with your clit….” his hand came in contact with your sensitive little bud. you started seeing stars.

“didn’t know you would be such a slut for my dirty words.. huh baby you like that?” he slaped your cunt. your back spasmed and you moaned out. you were going to cum. it was too late to even say anything your overwhelming sensation approaching too fast.

“cum on it.” he spat out. he knew you were gonna cum. and yet he kept fucking you. his long hard cock in and out of your sopping wet pussy. his balls smacking against your skin. his groans behind your ear. fuck.

white liquid rushed out of you. tsukishima quickly rushed to rub harshly into your clit.

“fuck! ah-! kei fuck! ah~ i can’t-! stop!” your words were rushed, staggered and stuttering you grabbed onto his wrist to stop.

finally when no more seemed to come out of you he stopped his motion and set you down. laying you beside him. all your energy you once had was gone.

“see, now you can say you have squirted.” he laughed from beside you.

he was right.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

yum.

[lieslab]

Where's my love?

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X afab reader

Summary: Unannounced and unplanned, you leave your boyfriend, but when he finds you again, things have changed drastically.

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 2.7K

_ _ _

The sky grew dark again and that meant another night of suffocation for Chan. Another night of looking at the moon and hoping somewhere in the city of Seoul, you were looking at it too. In theory, the moon is all he has left of you. 

Every time he called your name, the quiet halls haunted him. Each time he dialed your number, the same automatic and robotic voice caused his heart to quiver; a threat to burst at the seams. The texts never fell through. You blocked his number weeks ago. No matter how hard he’d tried, he’d never get through. 

The worst thing about loving someone is putting your heart on a line. Handing someone a loaded gun and trusting them not to pull the trigger. The evenings used to fill with shared laughter. Your smile that he thought could harness his own happiness forever. 

As long as you stayed, his confidence grew. Those what-if thoughts turned into a reality. You provided a stable structure for the foundation of his heart. Any time he had doubts or the fears became too large, he found himself finding hope again between your hands. With his cheeks pressed against your hands, the reassuring sound of your voice, he never thought he’d have to live without it. 

He knew he had his flaws. Everyone had their flaws, but he never thought those flaws drove a wedge between the two of you. Life turned into a balancing act. Everything went well and when it fell apart, he thought you trusted him enough to open up. 

Whether that had been a lie or if he hurt you in a way that he couldn’t understand, he didn’t know. You didn’t give him a chance to explain. In the middle of a silent night, Chan stayed in the studio to finish up a beat. 

At your shared home, tears laced your eyes. In a panic and disbelief, you threw your clothes into an open suitcase. The clothes, the toiletries, and your favorite photo of the two of you. You snatched the small black frame and threw it into your suitcase, hoping it wouldn’t bend. 

Driving home from the studio, exhaustion laced Chan’s head. Purple bags smeared beneath his eyes. For a brief moment, he thought he saw a glimpse of your car. The first few numbers of the license plate matched yours, but exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. 

He didn’t realize your side of the closet turned empty. He didn’t take notice of your missing shoes. He went directly into your room, collapsed on the bed, and fell asleep assuming you were in the bathroom. It wouldn’t be anything new for you. With a small bladder, you always had to go. 

The horrendous truth wouldn’t hit him until the next morning. _ _ _ 

In the morning, blue birds sang. The only woodpecker living in the backyard filed away at a tree with a sharp beak. A mirage of morning colors swept across the bustling city. Chan rolled over, expecting to get his hands on you, but you weren’t there. 

In a sleepy haze, his eyes half-opened and he glanced around the room. A faint light filtered through the laced curtains. He squinted, looking around trying to figure out where you were, wondering if you were up making breakfast. Sometimes you woke up early, but other times, you stayed in bed past noon. 

He never knew what the mornings would bring with you. Tender touches, quick kisses, and the rest unraveled into a mystery. Would the two of you argue over the simplicity of pancakes or waffles? The age old question that you always fought over. 

Perhaps, the morning would end with him wrapping you in his arms and refusing to let you go. He’d hold you hostage and appreciate you more than you’d ever know. While you swear, he’d laugh and squeeze you tighter. Promising, vowing, and praying that none of this would ever change. 

For a few more seconds, a few more minutes, another hour, the two of you would stay side-by-side. Two hearts beating for one another through thin, stretched skin. Two halves of a whole, being forced to separate for society’s standards, before the two of you could reunite again. 

He shoved himself up, ran a hand through his messy curls, and started to search for you. He called your name, rubbed his eyes, and padded out into the living room. The TV remained silent. Your shoes weren’t parked on the usual rug beside the door. The hooks holding your house and car keys remained empty. Two golden hooks without their usual objects. A house without a beating heart. He assumed you went out to get breakfast, but the messages remained unread. 

Having to go back to work, he sent you a final text. One final text that you didn’t gather the courage to read until hours later. Hours too late. You were already miles away. You whispered the words, pretended he was reading them off to you, but you never responded. Instead, you hit the block button. 

A heavy heart, eyes swollen with tears, maybe one day he’d understand, but you had to do what was best for the both of you. 

Even if it nearly killed you in the process. 

_ _ _ 

Four years, seven months, and two days. 

That’s how long it took before the two of you stumbled into each other again. The first months hurt and the wounds on each of your hearts grew raw. You bled endlessly, but what more could you do? Everything always fell apart before it could come back together again. 

You still kept up to date with Chan’s band. You bought every album and listened to every song. Woven through the lyrics of his song, a man mourned. He bled guilt. He pleaded for his lover’s return, but it never led to anything. 

Those first few weeks, he searched for you everywhere. With a photo of you, he went into your favorite places, desperately holding up your smiling face to employees, begging to know if they had seen you. Nobody ever did. You faded into the abyss, but his feelings for you never did. 

You vanished like a ghost. You haunted him at all the wrong times. Your missing presence caused the band to go on hiatus for three months. Nobody could make music when their leader was mourning. 

The guys tried to call you. They tried hunting you down. Chan even tried to contact your parents, but no matter what it did, it was a lost cause. The only thing that gave him hope was your best friend. 

At a loss, he appeared on their front doorstep in tears. Begging and pleading to know if you were okay. They promised you were, swore to him that it’d make sense one day, and shut the door. It never made any sense until today. 

The guys wanted his father’s lamb. His father was in Australia and he knew it’d never be as good as his father’s, but he tried to recreate it anyway. The guys had worked non-stop over the past six months. Their latest album sat at the top of the charts for seven weeks in a row and they were hoping it’d stay there for a while. 

Your disappearance caused his heart to ache, but it grew less now. Time heals all wounds and this one was no different. Deep down, he always hoped he’d be able to see you again, but he accepted that your disappearance was final. He’d never get the closure and that stung, but what else could he do?

In a face mask and a baseball hat hiding his face, he heard your voice first. A pack of raw lamb sat in his hand. Debating how many packs to buy, he thought he might have finally lost it. 

“No, no, no. What did I say? We can’t poke the raw meat’s plastic. If our fingers go through it, we can get sick. We don’t want that, do we?” 

Your voice wasn’t harsh, but rather a gentle compassion. He spun around to find you grabbing the hand of a small toddler and coaxing them away from the raw meat. His heart fluttered against the side of his chest. 

There you were. Your hair grew longer, but the bags beneath your eyes remained the same. Tucked in a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, you chose your comfort over society’s peer pressure to look your best all the time. He thought he might drop to his knees. 

“Do you want to sit in the cart? We’re almost done and then we can go back home. Grandma is waiting for us. It’s supposed to snow later. We need to get back to her house before the storm starts.”

Your hands reached out, but their head shook. Black hair bobbed and sat in waves around her small shoulders. Dressed in a pink fluffy coat and fur-lined winter boots, her little foot stomped. “No!” 

“Come on, honey, let’s-” 

The little girl spun around and took off running. Not realizing how close the stranger was, she dashed into Chan’s legs. He gasped and reached down to steady her. 

Your eyes widen. “I’m so sorry! She can be a handful and-” Your cheeks went red as you hurried forward to grab her. 

The girl’s head tipped back, trying to see who she ran into. Chan reached up and gently pulled his mask down. The girl gasped and grinned. Two dimples and a mouthful of baby teeth. “Daddy!” 

“No, honey. This isn’t-” As your eyes met Chan’s, your world stopped. “Bang Chan?” 

“Daddy!” The little girl squealed again. Her tiny arms wrapped around one of his legs. 

He had so many questions for you, but they didn’t come out. Instead, his gaze fell onto the child at his feet. The same brown eyes as his. The same dimples. Looking at her reminded him of the childhood photos of himself. 

She had your smile, but from what he could see, everything else was from him. She cooed and pressed her head into his leg. “I like your music. Makes me dance.” 

“Honey,” you pleaded again quietly. “Come on, I’m sure he’s busy and-” 

“Is this why you left me?” The words fell out before he could stop them. “Is she really my daughter?” 

You blinked rapidly, trying not to cry. Coming back to Seoul had been a terrible idea, but your mother lived here. You couldn’t just stay away from her forever. You knew there was a chance you’d run into Chan when you were back, so you went to the places you thought he never visited. Apparently, times had changed over the years. 

“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” 

“So you can leave me again?” He asked. Sadness laced his voice and your heart squeezed with pain. You hadn’t meant to cause him any harm, but you knew you had. 

You glanced around, making sure the two of you weren’t being eavesdropped on. Realizing it, he tugged up his face mask again, so nobody could recognize him. Your eyes slipped shut and then they reopened. 

“I left you because I was pregnant. It was a stupid thing to do, I know. Deep down, I was terrified you’d want to stop making music. I couldn’t ask you to pick between leaving your band and being a father.” 

“So you just left without a good-bye?” 

“It was cowardly, but I was afraid. I was afraid of everything. I didn’t know if I was going to go through with the pregnancy. I didn’t know if you wanted me to keep the baby. I didn’t know a lot of things. By leaving, it was easier than forcing you to choose.” 

“I have a daughter?” 

“Her name is Odette.” You stepped around the grocery cart, bent down, and picked her up. “I know that I’ll never be able to-” 

“Odettie Berry!” Odette squealed. “That’s me!” 

“Berry?” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. “You couldn’t be there when I named her. I felt awful when Berry died. I know how much you loved her, so I just…” 

The hurt grew indescribable. Your actions had been those of a coward, but knowing that you named your daughter after the dog he loved the most, it was touching. Odette Berry was perfect. 

He reached down and placed the grocery basket on the ground. “Can I hold her?” You nodded and gently handed her to him. 

She smelled like a faint mixture of baby powder and lavender. Her rounded head dipped forward. Her chin pressed against his shoulder and caused him to smile. A loud yawn pulled at her lips. You blinked rapidly, trying not to cry again. 

To her, her father was not a stranger. You let her watch every new Skzoo Code video. Every new song, the two of you listened to together. No matter the distance you put between you and Chan, you still made sure she knew who her father was. 

“Come back home,” Chan whispered pleadingly. “She’s my daughter, too.” 

“I don’t want to cause any issues.” 

“I still have the apartment. The spare bedroom is empty. I still have all of your stuff that you left behind. You can’t just keep her hidden away from me now that I know she exists.” 

“Wolf Chan,” Odette mumbled as her eyes drooped. 

“She knows about Wolf Chan?” 

“Daddy’s plushie.” 

You cursed softly beneath your breath and scrambled through the items in the cart. “He’s in here somewhere.” You pushed aside the bread and eggs. Digging through the cold meat, you finally found him. “She can’t sleep without him.” You held it out to Chan. 

He grabbed it and brought it towards your daughter. “Is this who you’re looking for? Wolf Chan?” 

“Mmhm.” 

He smiled at her sleepy voice and tucked it beneath her arm. “There you go. You can sleep tight now, little one. Wolf Chan is here to save the day. You’re safe in Daddy’s arms.” 

You sniffled and wiped at the tears, trying to stop them. He paused when he said you. “Sorry,” you whispered. “I’ve been hoping you’d accept her, but I-I didn’t know. She loves you and the guys so much.” 

“She knows about the guys?” 

“Of course, I’ve told her about her uncles. Do you really think I’d never tell her? She has all of their plushies too. They line her bed and she can’t sleep without them. I think she loves Seungmin and Felix the most.” 

“Seungmin?” 

“She finds his bullying funny.” 

“You’re raising our daughter to be a Seungmin junior?” 

“No!” Your head shook rapidly. “I said she likes Felix too. She loves to help me bake. Just you wait, she tries to make beats like you too. Back home, she’s constantly tapping away at the kitchen table. I think she’s like you more than you’ll ever know.” 

“Please come back home.” 

He reached an arm out towards you. Without hesitation, you hurried over and wrapped your arms around him. Your shoulder lightly pressed against your daughter. For a few moments, the world stopped, and the missing pieces realigned. 

Your cart of groceries sat abandoned behind you. Chan’s struggle for lamb seemed like a minor inconvenience more than anything. The guys wanting lamb brought him back together with you and his daughter. 

Odette Berry curled into his shoulder and cuddled a Wolf Chan plushie. This morning, his biggest challenge of the day was finding enough lamb. Now it was figuring out how to adjust to life with a child. 

No matter how upset your actions made him, no matter how much it hurt; he understood it now. No matter how much he wished you would have picked better choices, it was far too late. Things finally aligned in his favor and that was all that mattered now. 

Four years, seven months, and two days. That’s how long it took him to find you again. Despite that, a lifetime of memories now awaited him. New memories with his daughter. He’d have to figure out how to tell the guys that he had a kid. 

His ghost had finally been found and that was the best gift anyone could ever give him. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght

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SHAMELESS - Y. JEONGIN

KINKTOBER DAY 24 - MUTUAL MASTURBATION

SUMMARY : you always had a soft spot for your best friend's little brother, maybe a little crush if you were honest. however, learning that he was still a virgin despite being this hot, you take it into your own hands to show him how it should be done.

-> pairing : best friend's brother!jeongin x fem!reader

-> words count : 4.2k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : sub!jeongin x dom!reader, virign!jeongin & experienced!reader, slight age gap (reader is a bit older than jeongin), alcohol consumption, fingering, handjob, breast play, mutual masturbation, making out, lingerie, teasing, begging, dry humping, marked, dirty talk, use of 'good boy', oral (f. receiving)

+ the way i'm depicting jeongin does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | kinktober 2024

All your friends knew you had a soft spot for Jeongin, even his own sister knew. You didn’t exactly know what it was in him that made it impossible for you to let him go, but your attraction was undeniable. At first, it was truly innocent - you just invited him sometimes to hang out for a while with you and your friends because the poor boy would often spend his weekends alone, and it wasn’t that bad to take him away from his games so he could share a drink or two with you before you left for the club. 

“- Your turn Jeongin, truth or dare ?

- Uh, I don’t know, truth ?”

The poor boy was always a little awkward when he didn’t have his first drink, but once he had loosened up, it was easier to have him admit some things and he actually enjoyed these little hangouts. You were getting ready with his sister and one of your other friends, sitting in the living room with bottles of alcohol and juice opened and ready to make a new drink at any moment. As you focused on doing both wings of your eyeliner the same way, your friend asked her a question. 

“- When was the last time you had sex ?

- Ew, I don’t want to know that ! He’s my brother.

- Come on, you’re not fun ! Go away then, I wanna know. And I’m sure Y/N wants to know too.”

You rolled your eyes at her, and you avoided everyone else's gaze as focused on your own face reflecting through the mirror of your eyeshadow palette as you put the finishing touches to your makeup. The slight buzz of alcohol was already getting to you, and you didn’t feel as embarrassed as you would have normally been. But you could still sense Jeongin’s eyes on you, as if he was trying to understand what your friend meant. His sister covered her ears with her hands while he answered. 

“- Well, I- I’ve never had sex, actually so…

- What ? You’re still a virgin ? No way.

- This is too much !”

Your best friend left the room to go get dressed, but you couldn’t believe what you had just heard either. You had always assumed that he must’ve had at least one or two girlfriends, but you weren't expecting this. Jeongin’s cheeks had taken a deep shade of red - which was cute, you had to admit - as he shrugged, trying to keep some kind of composure and acting nonchalant while he took another sip of his drink.

“- I don’t understand why it is so shocking. 

- Well, look at yourself in a mirror. You might be my friend’s brother but I know a fine man when I see one. Right, Y/N ?

- Uh, yeah, she’s right.”

Your gaze lingered on Jeongin longer than it should have, but it seemed like he couldn’t detach his gaze from you either. You stayed looking at each other for a few seconds, before you broke eye contact with him. The way your heart was beating in your chest, and the way some kind of well-known heat was rising through your body definitely wasn’t something you should be feeling for your best friend’s brother. Soon enough, the subject switched to something else, and you were left alone with your thoughts and the feeling that Jeongin eyes couldn’t leave your figure as you picked up your things to put them in your purse before heading out. Everytime you would look back his way, he would simply avoid your gaze and focus on his phone screen or his drink instead, pretending that he wasn’t devouring you with his eyes a few seconds ago. 

At least, your clubbing session did make you feel good, the alcohol helping you relax and the loud music pushing every parasite's thoughts out of your mind for a moment. By the time you went back to your best friend’s apartment, it was already way past 5 in the morning. Your two friends went to crash in bed immediately, giggling and loudly talking nonsense. The sound of the door of her bedroom closing shut behind them drowned out their laughs as you smiled to yourself while getting out of your high-heeled boots. You could still feel the agreable rush of all the drinks you had but you were conscious enough to think about drinking a glass of water before going to bed too. As you were about to head to the bathroom to take off your makeup, you almost ran into Jeongin who was walking out of his own room, looking like he hadn’t slept at all. You giggled as you steadied yourself by grabbing his shoulders. 

“- Oops ! Sorry, didn’t see you !”

Jeongin's right arm slid down to your waist to keep you straight up. Truthfully, you didn’t really need it to stand on your feet, you were not that drunk. But you let his hand rest against the naked skin of the small of your back that your crop top revealed, his own warm skin heating up your hot one even more and making another sort of warmth run through your veins. 

“- It’s okay. Are you alright ? Did you have fun ?”

You nodded with a big smile stretching out your face to both questions, missing the way Jeongin’s eyes went down to your cleavage and then back up to your face every two seconds. He was trying so hard to not seem like a pervert, but the way you were allowing him to be so close to you, to touch you in a way that was way too intimate, that was driving him crazy. 

“- So much fun ! But I don’t understand how you can still be a virgin…”

The sudden change of subject caught him out of guard, and his cheeks took that same shade of red once more, and again, you couldn’t help but think that he was really cute when he was embarrassed like that. Would he have that same look on his face if you dropped down to your knees and sucked him off, right now ? Would he look at you the same way if you told him everything he had you fantasizing about ?

“- I- I don’t know, it’s just how things are ? Girls aren’t really interested in losers like me you know…”

You frowned as you considered his words. A loser ? Jeongin ? Sure, he spent a lot of time playing video games. But he also spent a good amount of time at the gym, and if only he showed off his biceps a little more, there would be tons of girls at his feet, begging for a chance to go on a date with him. Because he already had a cute face, and a cute smile, and pretty hands, and…

“- Well, they should really start to get interested in losers like you. Because I am. 

- W-What do you mean ? 

- I mean that you’re handsome Innie. Can’t you see that ? If it wasn’t for your sister, I would’ve made a move on you a long time ago.”

With each step you took closer to him, Jeongin took a step back, until his back hit the wall of the hallway behind him. His blush was even more visible now, and despite the pure shock in his eyes, there was also an underlying lust, a contained desire that you couldn’t wait to unleash. 

“- Y/N, I… 

- What ? Don’t you think I’m pretty too ? Don’t you want me Innie ?”

The poor boy gulped down loudly as he tried to not let the bulge slowly forming underneath his clothes become too noticeable. He didn’t really understand what was happening, if this was all a dream or not, but he wasn’t going to miss his chance in either case. 

“- Fuck… I’ve wanted you since she introduced you to me.”

A smirk spread on your lips as you took one step forward again, your chest now pressed against his, making it impossible for him to escape - even though he didn’t want to - and also making it impossible to not look down at your boobs squished together in your ridiculously tiny top.

“- Then stop thinking. Let me show you how good it feels. 

- Please…”

This was the last word Jeongin managed to get out before you took a hold of his jaw and pulled him down to your lips to kiss him. His reaction was immediate, almost like it was a reflex : he took a hold of your waist, pressing your bodies together and his lips moved against yours hungrily, expressing all his frustration, all the longing through this kiss. You hummed against his mouth when one of his hands slid back up to angle your face differently, taking advantage of your appreciative noise to slip his tongue through your lips. You welcomed it gratefully, now fully making out with him in the middle of the hallway, his sister sleeping only a room away. When Jeongin finally let you go, you were both breathless, and the heat you felt had increased by ten.

“- Are you sure you’re still a virgin ? Because you’re a great kisser…”

He rolled his eyes at your question, annoyance written all over his face. You let out a yelp of surprise as he suddenly pushed you to his room. He didn’t have to do much effort to make you stumble back until you were sitting on his bed, proving once more that he was hiding a lot of muscles under his oversized pants and hoodies. 

“- Just because I never had sex doesn’t mean I never kissed anyone.”

You leaned on your elbows, exposing your curves to him as you tilted your head to the side, a smirk taking over your face. You loved how easy it was for him to switch up from his awkward and shy demeanor to someone a lot more confident - and you liked it either way. 

“- How far did you go then ?”

As you toyed with the hem of your black miniskirt, you saw his cheeks taking that shade of red again. Though, he couldn’t detach his eyes from the way you were slowly pushing the material higher and higher up your thighs, revealing more and more skin to his hungry gaze. 

“- I just… Kissed. And did a little foreplay.

- No need to be embarrassed, baby. We have all been there once.”

Jeongin gulped down again as he nodded, still watching intently as you left your skirt alone to go up to your chest, your hands cupping them over the material of your top. You let out a sigh of relief at the action, looking up at him as he was still standing up in front of you, the boner in his sweatpants now more than obvious. 

“- Did you do this ?”

Again, Jeongin nodded, eyes glued to the way you were squishing your tits together and hitching to do it himself, to feel the plushness of your skin under his hands by himself. You seductively smiled at him as you let one of your hands slide down in between your thighs, pressing your fingers against your clothed clit and letting out a satisfied hum.

“- And this ?”

This time, Jeongin shook his head. He was too entranced by the show you were putting on for him to be able to form sentences or even think about words anymore. If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

“- Want me to touch you ?

- Fuck… Yes, please…”

You smiled at him in a much softer way as you patted the spot beside you on his bed, inviting him to come sit with you. Even if you just wanted to jump him, you wanted every step of the way to be enjoyable for him, show him how good sex felt. Jeongin obeyed right away, and you immediately straddled him. His hands instinctively went to hold your waist and looked up at you, waiting for your next command. 

“- Tell me if you want me to stop, tell me if it’s too much, yeah ?

- Yes.”

The way the words left his mouth so quickly made you smile again and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him into another heated kiss. The buzz of alcohol heightened every one of your senses, and the way you had craved this for a while paired with the way Jeongin was so eager to please you quickly made you sigh in pleasure against his lips. Jeongin drank every little sound you made, relishing in the way he seemed to be able to have such an effect on you. The kiss was slow, but intense and passionate, and he didn’t hesitate to deepen it when he felt like he needed more. And you let him find his own rhythm, let him set the pace. 

“- You really are good at kissing Innie…

- Really ? 

- Hm… With a little practice, you could become the best.”

What you implied didn’t go on a deaf ears and Jeongin shivered at the thought of this becoming a regular occurrence. He wanted that. He wanted it so bad. And his unfocused eyes were telling you everything you needed to know as he pulled you in for another long kiss. You experimentally moved against him, your still clothed cunt rubbing against his boner - to test his reaction - and a pleased whimper slipped past his lips, getting swallowed by your hungry mouth. 

As you started to slowly rock your hips against him, he strengthened his grip on your waist. His breath was getting shorter and you could feel his sanity slipping away. It was almost cute how sensitive he was, but mostly, it only increased your own desire to show him how good it felt to be touched by someone else, to touch someone else. 

“- Does that feel good ?

- Yes… Really good.

- You can touch me, Innie.”

Jeongin nodded, but you could see that he was still hesitant to move his hands away from the secured spot of your waist. You smiled at him as you took one of his hands in yours, slowly moving it up to your chest and letting it rest here without breaking eye contact even once. You could see the way his breathing hitched in his throat and you could see the way he was now unable to detach his gaze from your cleavage. He tentatively squeezed your tit, and you encouraged him with your hums of pleasure, a different kind of thrill rushing through your veins as Jeongin got more and more confident. 

Within two minutes of touching your boobs, he was shamelessly groping them over your top, his head buried in your neck, sucking hickeys on your skin without a care in the world for the marks it was going to leave. Your dry humping had intensified, way too turned on by the way he now seemed unable to stop having his hands on you. But you were feeling that urge to discover his body too, to know what he was truly hiding under all of his oversized clothes. So you gently pushed him away, biting your lips at the way he seemed so clueless, so gone, only wanting to bury his face in between your tits again. 

“- Was it not good ?”

A soft smile took over your face as you leaned down to kiss his pouty lips. It was really cute how he almost forgot about his own raging erection because he wanted to please you, to make you feel good too.

“- It was really good, Innie. I just want to touch you too, if that’s okay ?”

Jeongin nodded again, his brain still having trouble processing the whole situation as you pushed his shirt over his head, leaving his upper body exposed. His cheeks went red again as he saw you detail his chest, arms and abs. You said nothing for a few seconds, letting your eyes devour him first, and then running your hand along the toned muscles of his chest, down to his defined abs that tensed under the feather like touch. 

“- You’re so sexy… So handsome, I knew you were but damn…”

The compliment made him awkwardly chuckle, not really used to show off his body. He was working hard on it, that was true, but since he didn’t have someone to expose it to, he wasn’t hearing these types of praises everyday. And especially not from you, the girl he had a crush on and an insatiable lust for. 

“- Don’t be so shy, baby… You should get used to that.”

And again, your words had an underlying tone that let him think that it could happen again. But he didn’t want to get his hopes up, so he just let you do your thing as you explored the skin of his torso with your hands and the skin of his neck with your lips. And your overwhelming presence soon made him forget about everything that wasn’t what was happening in that moment anyway. Jeongin closed his eyes, not trying to hold back the small moans escaping him and letting you mark his body in hickeys too. By the time your hands reached the waistband of his sweats, he was already breathless and so hard it was starting to be painful. 

“- Is it still okay ?”

Your sugary sweet voice paired with the way you were playing with the hem of his clothes made him nod faster than he ever had. You chuckled under your breath as you let your fingers slip under his pants until you could reach his very hard cock. The first contact with your fingers had Jeongin moaning a little louder and his whole body tensing. And when you wrapped your whole hand around his length, slowly starting to jerk him off, he was definitely gone, definitely ready to drop everything to have you do this again and again. 

“- You’re doing so good for me Innie…”

A small, muffled moan answered your praises and you just smiled back at him as you sped up your rhythm a little bit. Any trace of alcohol in your system had definitely disappeared by now, your focus only on Jeongin and the way he reacted to your touch, the delicious sounds he was making and how good he looked when he was feeling good like that. 

“- Y/N… Let me touch you too, let me make you feel good too… Please…”

He was almost begging to have a glimpse of your pussy, and who were you to deny him. You pecked his lips in approval as you got off the bed to get rid of your underwear, keeping your skirt that was too complicated to get out of right now. You settled back over his thighs, grabbing his hand in yours and pushing his fingers in your mouth to coat them in your saliva. This was partly for lubrication, and partly because you had been dreaming about these hands for far too long to not do it now that you had the chance too. And Jeongin was just looking up at you as if you hung up the stars in the sky, as if you were a goddess, and you liked the confidence boost maybe a little too much. 

“- Let me guide you baby, yeah ?”

He nodded along again, letting you push his hands down from your lips to between your legs. He gulped as you pressed the pads of his fingers against your wetness, feeling what he assumed was the clit by the way you sighed in relief as you rubbed his hand against it. 

“- Just this much pressure is good for me, but some girls like it faster or slower, you have to ask.”

Jeongin listened to you,  but he didn’t dare tell you that he didn’t plan to use this knowledge with anyone other than you. The only things he wanted to learn about were how to perfectly please you, how to make you cum and want more, how to make you come back to him. So he made sure to perfectly follow your rhythm, not flattering when you let him move on his own and started to jerk him off again, this time pulling his cock out of his sweats. Suddenly, you wanted to go down on your knees and take him into your mouth because he did have a very pretty dick - and it wasn’t a compliment you threw around this easily. 

“- Are you feeling good ? Am I doing good ?

- Yes, you’re doing really good Innie… Wanna make me feel even better ?

- Yeah…”

His immediate and eager response despite the fact that he was obviously starting to leak precum all over himself made you smile again. You loved how curious he was, how willing to discover and to let you teach him everything he needed to know he was. You grabbed his hand again, halting the cautious circles he was drawing on your clit to push his fingers lower, having them barely grazing against your more than wet entrance. You both gasped at the sensation, and your back arched slightly when Jeongin took it up himself to push one of his fingers inside, just enough for you to feel it. 

“- Is it okay ? Can I… Can I do this ?

- Hm, yes… Feels good, don’t stop.”

His brows were furrowed in concentration as he made sure to be careful when he fully pushed his middle finger inside of you. The way you were clenching down around him made him wonder about how good it would feel to have you wrapped around his cock instead and he throbbed in your hand that was still moving slowly around his dick, reminding him of his own arousal. You encouraged him to continue what he was doing with your endless praises, and soon enough, he was confident enough to push another one of his fingers inside of you, mesmerized by the way you were reacting - mouth opening and letting out a moan, squeezing him in your hand and your hips grinding against his palm as if it was a second nature. 

“- Does it feel good ?

- It does, Innie. Stop worrying about me, yeah ? You’re being such a good boy…”

Jeongin was always the first to laugh in his friend’s face for being wrapped around their girlfriend’s fingers but he realized in that moment that he was about to become way worse than them. He whined and chased your lips, all of the pleasure rushing into his veins starting to get way too much for him to stay quiet. The way you chuckled before grabbing his jaw and bringing your lips down on his for a hungry, messy kiss had him whimpering even louder. You made him weak, and he loved it so much. 

Noticing how sensitive and squirmy he had become, you sped up your movements around his cock. The thrusts of his fingers inside of you were regular, almost too slow, but it was so different from what you were used to, almost like a calculated rhythm that was starting to get to you and get you wanting more of it. And it didn’t help that his fingers were so long, and that they were making you feel so full, you just had to grind against his palm to get a bit of friction on your clit. 

You were so entranced by the kiss that you barely noticed it when Jeongin’s body started to shake. It was only when you felt a hot spurt of cum landing on your hand that you noticed he was indeed cumming, a strangled moan escaping him as you kept up your rhythm. The way he seemed just as surprised as you was arguably very cute, and you kept stroking him slowly and kissing his lips until he tried to get away from your touch.

“- I-I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t feel it coming…”

His embarrassment was coming back full force, and you were really, really starting to get addicted to how adorable he looked with his red cheeks and shifty eyes. You wiped your hand against your thigh, not caring too much for his cum before you grabbed his face, smiling at him while you tried to ignore the fact that his fingers were still stuffed inside of you even if he wasn’t moving them anymore.

“- Did it feel good ?”

Jeongin nodded and your smile only widened. 

“- Then never be embarrassed about having a good time baby. 

- But what about you ? You didn’t cum, did you ?”

You chuckled as you shook your head, placing another kiss on his pursed lips. You were thoroughly fucked. You knew you shouldn’t have started this at all, but now that you were here, you didn’t want to leave anymore. 

“- No, but it’s okay. I enjoyed watching you.”

There was a look of disappointment on Jeongin’s face as he looked up at you. He stayed quiet for a few seconds, as if he was trying to think about what he was going to do next, and before you knew it, he had you pinned underneath him, his larger frame hovering over you as his eyes were glued to your exposed cunt. Your squeal of surprise at his unexpected move made him look up at your eyes that were now pleading you.

“- Please, teach me how to make you cum. I wanna make you feel good too. I wanna… I wanna eat you out. Teach me.”

And how could you say no when he was so eager to learn, so eager to please you, so pliant when you pushed his head in between your thighs ? And from the way he was hungrily lapping at your folds, you were assured that your “teaching” wouldn’t stop there.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts and translations of my works.

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[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

He teaches you the language of his work - Part 2

The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You were still sprawled on the bed, tangled in sheets, when Simon’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He reached over, grabbed it, and sighed as he read the message.

“Duty calls?” you asked, voice husky with sleep.

“Not yet,” Simon said. “Soap being a nuisance. Wants to know if I’ve taught you enough to lead a mission.”

You snorted. “Tell him I’m ready to take his spot.”

Simon chuckled, his body vibrating slightly against yours. “Careful. He’d put you through boot camp just to prove a point.”

You sat up slowly, feeling the ache from the night’s lessons. Simon’s gaze followed you, dark and appreciative. He reached for his shirt, but you stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“I’m not done learning,” you teased. “What’s next on the curriculum?”

Simon leaned back, eyes narrowing playfully. “You sure? My courses are intense.”

“I think I can handle it.”

He shifted suddenly, pinning you back against the pillows with a low growl. “You handled last night just fine.”

Your heart raced as he captured your lips in a deep, claiming kiss. But before things could escalate, his phone buzzed again—louder, more insistent.

“Soap,” Simon muttered darkly, grabbing the phone. This time, his eyes narrowed as he read the message. “Team meeting in an hour.”

“Perfect timing,” you groaned, flopping back against the pillows.

Simon gave you a crooked smile. “Don’t think this is over. We’ll finish the lesson later.”

An hour later, you sat cross-legged on the sofa, sipping coffee while Simon and the team connected over a video call. Soap, Gaz, and Price filled the screen, each wearing expressions ranging from amused to exasperated.

“Morning, love,” Soap greeted, waggling his eyebrows. “Simon been teachin’ you more ‘bout comms?”

You raised a brow. “Let’s just say I’m a quick study.”

Soap burst out laughing. “Aye, she’s got more guts than you, Ghost.”

“Careful, MacTavish,” Simon warned, though his tone held no heat.

Price cleared his throat, clearly trying to keep things on track. “Enough fooling around. We’ve got updates on the next mission.”

You leaned back as the conversation turned serious. Despite the banter, there was a deep camaraderie among them—a bond forged through battles and shared secrets.

But Simon’s gaze kept drifting to you, his expression softening in a way it never did with anyone else.

When the call finally ended, Simon stood, stretching before making his way over to you. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Breakfast first. Then maybe some more lessons.” You grinned wickedly. “Think you can keep up?”

Simon’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping to that familiar rasp. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Lesson two was about to begin.

~~~~~~

The crisp winter air wrapped around you both as you wandered through the snow-draped landscape, leaving behind a trail of footprints. Simon walked with an easy, quiet confidence beside you, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

After a few minutes of silence, you nudged him with your elbow. “So… you taught me a few phrases last night. But I want more. What’s next?”

Simon’s eyes flicked to you, a glimmer of amusement there. “You’re really keen on this, huh?”

You nodded eagerly. “Come on. Hit me with something.”

He stopped walking, turning toward you with a smirk. “Alright. Let’s see if you remember what ‘RTB’ means.”

“Return to base.” You crossed your arms, grinning. “Easy.”

“Breach and clear?”

“Entering and securing the area.”

Simon hummed, clearly impressed. “Good girl.”

The praise sent warmth flooding through you. You didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because Simon stepped closer. “Here’s one you’ll hear a lot: ‘Copy that.’”

“Copy that?” You tilted your head. “So it’s… acknowledgment, right? Like saying, ‘Got it’?”

“Exactly.” Simon’s eyes narrowed in mock seriousness. “Let’s practice. Say I give you an order. What’s your response?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Copy that.”

“Good. Now let’s make it more interesting.” Simon took a step back, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Alright, soldier. Your next mission—build me a snow fort. Make it tall, sturdy, and ready for battle.”

You gave him a mock salute. “Copy that.”

With renewed determination, you crouched down and began gathering snow. Simon leaned against a tree, watching with that infuriating smirk that always sent your heart racing.

As you worked, Simon’s deep voice broke the quiet. “One more phrase for you. ‘Hold your position.’”

“Means don’t move,” you answered without looking up.

“Exactly. And it also means…” He suddenly lunged, grabbing a handful of snow. “Stay right there while I do this.”

You barely had time to react before the snowball hit you square in the shoulder.

“Simon!” you shrieked, wiping snow from your coat.

He chuckled, another snowball already in his hand. “What’s the matter? Didn’t hear the order?”

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.”

With a quick scoop of snow, you launched your own attack. The next few minutes were pure chaos—snow flying, laughter ringing through the trees. You managed to land a hit on Simon’s chest, but he retaliated by tackling you gently into a snowbank.

Pinned beneath him, your laughter faded as the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. His weight pressed into you—not crushing, but grounding. His eyes, dark and intense, searched yours.

“You’re learning fast,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” you whispered.

Simon leaned in, his lips brushing yours. “Roger that.”

The kiss was slow and deep, snowflakes melting against your skin.

“Think we can call that a successful mission?” you asked breathlessly.

Simon grinned. “I’d say it’s just the beginning.”

[dindjarindiaries]

Pulling Punches

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompt: "Look, I know I probably should have backed off and I apologize." "No, honestly it was kind of hot." "What?"

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You sighed and set your hands on your hips, leaning close enough so that your muttered words could only be shared between the two of you. “Din, honestly. I’ll be fine in there.” You gestured with your head to the cantina’s threshold. “Just stay out here and watch my back. Okay?”

Din shifted his weight between his feet and flexed one of his gloved hands. The other rose to adjust his vambrace. With a heavy exhale of defeat and a swing of his helmet, he relented. “Fine.” His visor found you again. “Just—.”

“Be careful.” You huffed and gave his armored shoulder a playful punch. “I know. I can handle myself.” You turned towards the door and spoke to him over your shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few.”

With that, you strode forward. The door slid open for you, and you felt Din’s gaze lingering on your back until the closing door made it impossible for him to see you any longer.

You rolled your eyes. Honestly, for a man who had yet to even mention the idea of being with you romantically, he was so unnecessarily protective.

The cantina on this world was crowded that night, practically shoulder-to-shoulder as you wove your way towards the actual bar. You were soon close enough to spot the familiar blue skin of the Twi’lek bartender, and after raising your hand and keeping your eye on them, you caught their attention. The Twi’lek woman smiled and waved you forward.

“Sorry.” You smiled sheepishly as you stepped up to greet the bartender. “I know I’m a bit late.”

The Twi’lek raised an unimpressed brow, despite the glint of fondness in her gaze. “‘A bit’? It was two full rotations.”

You shrugged. “Kark happens.” You subtly scanned your surroundings and lowered your voice. “Do you still have it?”

The Twi’lek hummed a positive note as she finished pouring a drink. “It’s in the back.” She picked up the glass in her hand and nodded. “I’ll go grab it.”

Your face softened in gratitude, even as your fists tightened on top of the bar. You wouldn’t feel much better until the datacard was in your hands.

Just as you watched the blue Twi’lek disappear into a back room, the man on your left started to speak to you. “Never seen you here before.”

You huffed and cut your gaze at him. “Moved off world a few cycles ago.”

“Makes sense.” He shuffled closer to you. “I’d remember a face like yours.”

You let out a low chuckle and glanced over at him, amused. “Oh, yeah?”

The man hummed his agreement and gave you an obvious once-over. “What brings you back here?”

You offered him a shrug. “Just visiting an old friend.” You gestured with your head to where the bartender had gone.

“Well…” The man’s hand slid closer to yours on the bar top. “I’m glad you did.”

Your eyes narrowed as you looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not staying long.”

His brow rose slowly. “I won’t need long.”

You frowned and pulled your hand closer to yourself. “Okay, then let me make myself clear: I don’t want whatever you’re trying to offer me.”

The man chuckled. “Playing hard to get? Really?”

You crossed your arms, but kept your hands pulled tight into fists, ready to punch if you had to. “I’m not ‘playing’ at all.”

The man lifted his hand as if he was about to set it on your shoulder. “Then let me help you—.”

Whatever else he was saying was lost in the shuffle of someone stepping in between the two of you so quickly that you nearly jumped into the person on your right. The flash of silver was all you needed to see to identify who it was that had grabbed the man’s wrist so hard that you audibly heard it crack.

The man gasped in both pain and surprise, but Din didn’t release his wrist, not even as he spoke. “Lay a single hand on them, and I’ll cut it off.”

The man sputtered before he tried to snatch his wrist away from Din. “Alright, alright! Relax.”

“This is me relaxed.” Din still didn’t relinquish his grip. “You don’t want to see me when I’m not. Do I make myself clear?”

The man huffed indignantly. “Yeah, yeah! Whatever. Just let me go!”

You observed the attention you were suddenly getting and sighed. You pinched the bridge of your nose and closed your eyes. “Let him go, Din.”

Din hesitated, but you soon heard movement as he dropped the man’s hand. You reopened your eyes to see the man cradling his bruising wrist and glaring between both you and Din. His words were directed towards you when he spoke again. “You could at least fight your own battles.”

You were ready to do exactly that, but Din beat you to it. He slammed his elbow into the back of the man’s head, forcing his front half to fold over the bar top, and then punched the man’s gut to make him fall back a few steps. Din’s final hit was an uppercut that had the man knocked out in seconds.

The man hit the floor, and the cantina froze for a single moment in time as Din flexed both his hands and spoke to the limp body underneath him. “They don’t have to.”

You should’ve been mortified by his actions, and part of you was, but mostly… you were hit with a rush of warmth that brought a fond smile to your lips. Din was always protective, sure, but this was something different. This was a fight to protect your honor.

Like he had said, a battle you could have fought on your own, but you didn’t have to, because he wanted to do it for you.

Din then shook his helmet as if pulling himself out of a trance and turned around to face you. He took a step closer, as if he was about to start speaking, but your attention was pulled away by the bartender returning.

“Here.” The Twi’lek woman handed you the datacard, and you thanked her quietly. Her gaze fell to the man on the floor, and her brow raised as she let out a relived exhale. “Oh, finally. Someone took care of that guy.”

You frowned in confusion. “What?”

The bartender nodded at the body. “Guy’s been harassing our patrons for weeks.”

“Oh.” You looked down at the man and kicked his limp foot with your boot. “Good riddance.”

The Twi’lek huffed in agreement and only briefly looked between you and Din. She smiled and nodded towards the door. “Be safe out there.”

“And you be safe in here.”

With those words and a small smile of your own, you turned towards the door and started making your way out. It was admittedly easier, though, with Din at your side, as he had no trouble pushing people out of the way for both of you.

As soon as you were making your way back to the ship, Din began to speak. “Look.”

He let out a soft breath as his visor glanced over at you.

“I know I probably should have backed off.” He looked down at the fist he’d punched with and flexed it. “I apologize.”

You hummed, pretending to consider his apology. “No. Honestly…” You shrugged. “It was kind of hot.”

Din’s helmet whipped towards you so fast that you’re surprised he didn’t actually trip a step. “What?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you bumped your side against his. “I’m being serious!”

Din’s helmet tilted at you. “But you’re laughing.”

“Because it’s funny.”

Din sighed. “What’s funny?”

You nodded at him. “You being so shocked that I find you attractive.”

Din stiffened in clear embarrassment as he focused on the way ahead. “Are we really doing this here?”

You pretended to be disappointed. “So, you’re saying you didn’t do what you did because you find me attractive?”

Din’s helmet turned towards you again. “I never said that.”

Your teasing smile was impossible to fight. “Then you do think I’m attractive?”

Din suddenly stopped in his tracks, letting out an exhale heavy enough to make you hold back a laugh. He took you by the arm and pulled you aside to keep you out of the way as he responded.

“Clearly. How many more people do I have to punch to make that obvious?”

You blinked at him before you burst out laughing again. "Din, there has to be a better way for you to tell me how you feel."

Din shrugged. "I was raised a fighter."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Not a lover?"

"Jury's still out."

You snorted in amusement. Din, however, was quick to shift gears, his hand lowering from your arm to your back as his visor gave your surroundings a cautious glance.

"Now, can I please get you back to the ship safely, and then we can discuss this more properly?" He tilted his helmet at you. "Or, in your case, laugh about it."

You gave your eyes a playful roll, though the smile on your lips told a different story. "Fine." You nodded towards the way ahead. "Just try not to punch anyone else."

Din huffed and gave your back a gentle tap. "No promises."

Given what additional insight you had now regarding Din's motivations, you found your smile widening as you stayed close to his side, at last fully grateful to be within his protective reach.

[hcverns]

Risks Taken

pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader, minghao is mentioned

word count: 9.4k

warnings: mentions of drinking, cursing, some spice (making out)

genre: angst, fluff (basically angsty stuff with a happy ending), best friends to lovers.

synopsis: in the midst of enjoying his blissful saturday night with you and a romance movie, his world suddenly stopped spinning when you mentioned another guy's name.

a/n: hi oh my god i'm so nervous. this is literally my first fanfic i've ever written. i wrote this for my best friend and i asked her permission to post it on tumblr and she said yes so here i am :) i apologize for the typos and grammar mistakes or any mistake at all, really. likes, replies and reblogs would be much appreciated. much love <3

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It was Saturday night. The TV was on in your living room. A rom-com movie was playing on the screen. What was the title, he wasn’t sure. But it was quite entertaining. He had underestimated your choice of movie at first, but you had begged him so nicely with those puppy eyes that always made him weak in the knees. Who could blame him for giving in to his best friend’s request?

So here you two were. Relaxing on the couch while watching a movie. There were a bunch of snacks on the coffee table in front of you. You were sitting side by side, both your feet resting on top of the coffee table without a single care with just the right amount of distance separating the two of you. Just a perfect Saturday night.

Jeonghan stretched his arm to reach for a bag of gummy bears on the table, only to find none of it.

“What the— Hey, did you finish all the gummy bears?” He asked you who were sitting beside him on the couch but his question was responded by silence.

He sighed and shook his head slightly. He turned his gaze to you only to notice that your eyes were focused on the TV screen. Instead of calling you out for finishing the gummy bears, he looked at your features in silence. A small smile appeared on his lips unintentionally. He noticed your hair had gotten longer. It almost reached your shoulders.

He remembered the time when you had cut your hair short. Like short, short. Masculine type of short hair. You’d been so excited to show him. He couldn’t, wouldn’t ever forget the happiness in your eyes when you facetimed him to proudly show him your brand new look. And it really surprised him with how beautiful you looked with that hair. Your excitement and confidence really added into it. He was happy to witness you being brave enough to look different, to look bold, to express yourself just like you had wanted to.

He snapped back to reality when you squealed like a schoolgirl.

“Han, they’re gonna kiss. They’re gonna kiss!” You said in excitement.

Jeonghan furrowed his eyebrows slightly. “What?”

“They’re gonna freaking kiss! You heard me.” You repeated yourself without turning your gaze in the slightest bit.

“How do you know?”

“How could I not? I’ve watched this befo— AAHH! They kiss! See?” You turned your head to him with the biggest smile on your face.

Jeonghan had to fight the urge to say “so fucking adorable” out loud at the sight of his best friend’s smiley face. Instead, he decided to ask you, “You’ve watched this movie before?”

You simply nodded.

“And you’re watching it again?”

You nodded your head again.

He sighed. “Why?”

You jerked your head back in confusion. “What do you mean 'why?'”

“You’ve watched this movie before. Why are you watching it again? What’s the point of watching the same movie twice?”

You rolled your eyes at his question. To you, it sounded so dumb. “Han, have you watched this movie before?”

Jeonghan shook his head.

“That’s why I chose this movie for our movie night. This movie is so good I couldn’t help but share the experience of watching this masterpiece with you. You should’ve thanked me, you know?”

Jeonghan chuckled a little. You really knew how to respond to literally anything. But he really needed to know why you were willing to watch the same movie more than once, so he questioned you again, “Yeah, but why are you willing to watch it again?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Oh boy. Just be quiet, yeah? You’ve watched ‘The Glory’ more than once as well, remember? And it’s a series. A goddamn series!” You laughed sarcastically.

He laughed as well. You got a point. He remembered when he had finished watching ‘The Glory’ for the first time and he couldn’t help but watch the said series again for the second time the very next day.

“You’re silent now, huh?” Your lips formed into a smirk.

“Shut up.” He brushed you off. The trace of his smile was still visible on his lips.

“Anyway, (Y/N), since you were very focused on two people kissing on the screen, let me ask you again. Did you finish all the gummy bears?” He raised his eyebrow.

“That… I did, yeah.” You admitted that it made Jeonghan groan.

“Well, you know what, I think I still have some in the cabinet. I’ll grab ‘em for you.” You quickly added when Jeonghan started to groan. He really did want some gummy bears, it seemed.

A smile quickly appeared on his face. “Wait, really? Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it myself. You keep going with your ‘Lovely Rosie.’” Jeonghan got up from the couch and made his way to your kitchen.

“It’s 'Love, Rosie' you jerk!” You yelled from the living room that made him laugh.

Jeonghan opened one of the hanging cabinets’ doors where you usually kept your snacks. He didn’t have to guess which one because he had been in your place many, many times.

Ever since you had started being best friends, which was roughly six years ago, you had this one night in a week, usually on Saturday night, where you just chilled and watched movies together. Of course it didn’t happen literally once in a week because, as responsible adults, you two sometimes were busy with something. But still, it was a tradition for you.

Jeonghan finally found two large bags of gummy bears in the cabinet. He smiled brightly as he held them with his right hand. He immediately walked himself back to the living room. He was so ready to plop himself on the couch before he took a quick look at you, who apparently were focused on your phone, rather than the TV screen, with a big smile on your face.

Jeonghan furrowed his brows. ‘Why is she ignoring the movie without even pausing it and why is she smiling so damn big now while staring at her phone?’ He wondered inwardly.

He slowly sat himself down on the couch. His best friend’s attention was still on her phone. He noticed your fingers typing something, seemingly.

He waited for a few seconds (which felt like hours) for you to turn your attention to him. Or the TV screen. Or the freaking gummy bears in his hand. Anything but your phone. He got a bad, bad feeling.

His curiosity piqued. He couldn’t help but ask you about it. “You’re texting someone?”

“Yup.” You answered with just one word. But this one word was enough to make Jeonghan’s heart sting a little.

“Oh.” That was all he said. He didn’t want to seem nosy so he didn’t push you to tell him who you were  texting. But not gonna lie, there was a slight pang of hurt in his chest. ‘Who are you texting? Why are you smiling so bright right now?’ He questioned again.

He tried to ease his own worry by forcing himself to think positively. ‘That could be her mom. But who on earth texts their mom with a smile like that??’ The attempt to clear the fog on his brain failed miserably.

“Who?” The word just slipped out of his mouth because apparently he ran out of his self control.

You didn’t answer him immediately and that almost drove him insane.

After a few seconds of you smiling and typing and him resisting the urge to just snatch your phone himself (which again, felt like fucking hours to him), you put your phone down on the couch beside your thigh.

You looked at him, still with a smile on your face. If it were under different circumstances, he would smile back at you. Why wouldn’t he? Your smile was his favorite thing ever after all.

Instead of smiling like he usually did, he raised his eyebrow as a sign that he was waiting for an explanation.

“Sorry, sorry. What was it again?” you innocently asked him to repeat his question.

Without wasting a millisecond, he uttered what was on his curious mind. “Who were you texting?”

Your facial expression turned shy. Exactly like someone who was thinking of their crush. And the pain in his chest increased.

“It’s just… someone.”

“Someone who?” He responded quickly. Demanding for a real and clear answer.

“Was it a guy?” He hoped you couldn’t notice the jealousy in his tone.

And what he hoped for was exactly what happened, but at what cost? You were completely oblivious of his jealousy. A shy smile made an appearance on your pretty face and it was enough to confirm Jeonghan’s bad feeling.

You took a deep breath before answering him. “So, his name is Minghao…”

Jeonghan swore he could feel his heart stop for a second. You mentioning the guy’s name that you had been texting with felt like a stab to his heart. No, that can’t be. He refused to believe it. He really wanted to pull his own hair in frustration but he chose to stay silent as you continued talking about this Minghao guy.

“He’s a barista in Franky n Co, the coffee shop I work in.” Your face got slightly red as you were talking about Minghao to your best friend.

Jeonghan was using all his power to keep a straight face. He even tried to smile a little as a way to make you believe that he wasn’t jealous at all. “Are you guys dating or something?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “N-no. We’re not dating. At least not yet, I hope.” A shy smile appeared again on your face at the end of your sentence.

“So… you like him?”

“Well, yeah. Let’s just say that me and Minghao are in a… what’s it called? Talking stage? Yeah. We’re currently in a talking stage.” You smiled widely as you explained to him what this Minghao guy was to you and it made his blood fucking boiling.

“So he likes you too?” The smile on his face right now was the fakest smile in the whole damn universe. In his mind, he was clenching his fists very tightly to the point that his fingernails hurt the palm of his hands.

Your smile faltered as you were reminded of the uncertainty of Minghao’s feelings for you. “Uh, I’m not sure. I mean, we’ve gone on two dates and they went pretty well. But he hasn’t told me whether he likes me or not and vice versa.”

When he felt his heart was stabbed earlier, this time it felt like the knife had been twisted and made the pain tenfold. ‘Dates. They had gone on two dates. Two fucking dates.’ Jeonghan was on the brink of insanity.

“You two have gone on dates? Tell me about it.” He was scared for a second that you would catch up on the sarcasm that lingered on his words.

You didn’t, though. Jeonghan didn’t know he should be grateful or hateful at your unawareness. Your eyes got excited as you were going to tell him about your dates with Minghao.

“First, it was a movie date. We went to the cinema after we finished our shift. And the second one was three days ago. It was an ice cream date..? I mean, we just went to an ice cream shop after work and we talked about several topics while eating ice cream. And he held my hand all the way home.”

Your voice was so dreamy. It sounded so sweet. If only you were talking about him in that manner rather than Minghao. He didn’t need to hear all those details. He wanted to throw up. He felt sick to his stomach. ‘That coffee maker even had a chance to hold her hand? All the way home??’

Jeonghan didn’t know what this Minghao guy looked like. He didn’t know his personality as well but he really, really wanted to punch him in the face right now.

“That sounds so cute. A movie date and an ice cream date? How adorable.” His words were completely opposite of what was truly on his mind.

“Right! Do you think he likes me back?” you asked him a question that sounds so ridiculous to him. But all he did was shrug his shoulders slightly.

“He could.”

“Yeah? You think so?” you asked him again with eyes full of hope.

‘Hell fucking no.’ That was what he wanted to say. But he wasn’t stupid enough to let that happen. He didn’t want to ruin your mood like that. So he just nodded instead.

Then, the unexpected happened. Something that made Jeonghan’s heart skip a beat. Something that made his jealousy and rage calm down even though only a bit. You squealed and threw yourself at him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

The hug was short, he couldn't help but long for it again when you let go.

“Thank you for convincing me that there’s a possibility of Minghao liking me back. You’re the best, Han!”

Then it came back again. The jealousy and anger. Your smallest words and acts could really put him on a wild roller coaster ride.

Jeonghan swore he didn’t mean it. He just lost control over his movement. He couldn’t think straight so he let his heart take the lead this time.

As a response to you thanking him, he rolled his eyes and scoffed.

And when he heard your small gasp, he knew he fucked up.

“What was that for?” you asked in disbelief.

Jeonghan played dumb by asking you back, “What was what for?”

“Why did you roll your eyes and scoff like that, Han?” He could hear the slight sadness in your tone.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fucking hell. Should he say it? There’s no use in hiding it anymore, right?

He was fighting a battle in his own head now. He sat in silence as his brain was working really hard to decide what his response should be.

“Yoon Jeonghan.”

He quickly looked at you when you called him by his full name like that. He couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to leave your place, got in his car and drove himself to the highway at the speed of a hundred miles an hour while ignoring the red lights.

“What did you even see in him, anyway?” His heart took full control of his mouth now. He really did say the exact thing on his mind without a filter.

“Excuse me?”

Offended. Disbelief. Bewilderment. Confusion. A hint of anger. Jeonghan could see those emotions mixed into one on your face.

“You heard me right.” He didn’t back down. No lame excuses such as “Sorry, I was possessed by an unknown spirit that’s why I was spewing bullshit.” or “Oh, I was just reciting a line from a movie.” Nothing.

“What the fuck?”

He had it coming. He knew you would respond harshly. Those three words were enough to make the pain on his chest more intense. He didn’t say anything in return. He just looked down at the carpet beneath his feet in embarrassment and jealousy. The gummy bears he had taken earlier were long forgotten, just like the movie.

“Han, explain!” you raised your voice just a little at your best friend’s silence.

You snapped. So he did too.

“I don’t like the fact that you like that guy, whatever his name is, okay?”

If he thought that his heart was taking full control of the way he acted and spoke, he was wrong. His head was also taking control. His heart and his head were equally in chaos and clouded by jealousy. So he was sure that the words he just said to you were justified.

And he lied, by the way. He knew exactly the name of that guy.

Meanwhile, you felt like a punch had landed straight on your chest. Your brain couldn’t process the words that came out of Jeonghan’s mouth just now. You didn’t even know how to feel. Of course, you were confused as hell. But other than that, you weren't even sure. Should you feel sad? Angry? What?

“B-but why?”

The way you stuttered was almost enough for his heart to soften and to make him apologize to you immediately. Right, almost. Not entirely, no. Jealousy was still consuming his heart and head.

Jeonghan got a brief and sudden flashback to when his little heart finally had gotten the courage to admit to himself that he indeed had more-than-friends feelings for you.

✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧

It was roughly one and a half years ago. He still remembered the way he had cursed in the darkness of his room, under the warmth of his blanket. He had been in shambles. His brain had short-circuited. He was confused, sad, even angry at himself. He wanted to be angry at you too for being such an absolute flawless human being and had the audacity to effortlessly play with his heartstrings like that.

The thing is, he had never been friendzoned. Never. But he had enough information about it. A complete glossary from A to Z regarding things that were related to the said situation and none of them had a positive connotation. All thanks to his friends. Joshua drank himself to sleep for two weeks straight and Seungcheol had lost several kilos of body mass because of fucking friendzone.

And most importantly, they vented their sadness and frustration to Jeonghan.

Despite laying on his soft bed with a soft pillow under his head, he felt very uncomfortable. He wanted to rest his mind in a peaceful slumber but he just couldn’t. After a few tossing and turning, he heard his phone vibrate on the nightstand.

With a weak hand, he reached for his device and found out who texted him that late.

It was you.

thank you so much for today hannie!! im no longer sad now. in fact this gotta be the best birthday ever with my best friend ever who gave me the best present ever!! goodnite :D

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath. Best friend. He groaned onto the pillow as his brain was recalling the recent event that happened earlier that day. Your  twenty-fourth birthday.

As someone who lived far away from family, you didn’t have the privilege to have your birthday celebrated at home with your parents, siblings and pet cat. You also didn’t have that many friends in the city you currently lived in so your birthday was less lively than the ones you had before you moved out.

You weren't exactly sulky or sour but Jeonghan could see right through his best friend. It was your birthday and he wanted you to have the time of your life. Of course he already prepared a gift for you. A Hogwarts themed lego set which you eyed on when you two were window shopping two weeks ago. But he wanted to do more. He wanted to make your  birthday as joyful as the ones you had in your hometown.

So he asked you to go to a beach. It was spontaneous, really. He didn’t plan it beforehand but he knew a small and beautiful beach just thirty minutes drive from the city called Azure Cove.

He remembered the way your whole face lit up when he brought up the idea of going to Azure Cove as a way to celebrate your birthday. He also could never forget the way you glowed when both of you arrived at the said location. That was the happiest of you he had ever witnessed and he felt some kind of pride for being the reason behind it.

As you were enjoying the rich color of sunset on the beach, Jeonghan went back to his car and took out the Lego set he had bought for you.

And it was the moment that made Jeonghan couldn’t fall asleep that night. The way you hugged him so tightly, your eyes slightly glistened with tears and a tender kiss on his cheek. The kiss. The goddamn kiss that made a switch in his brain flip. The kiss that made him realize that he, indeed, had feelings for his best friend for God knows how long.

He looked back at the text you had sent him. The words ‘best friend’ you put right there made him slightly bitter. Well, you weren't wrong, but Jeonghan wasn’t ready for the cursed ending he would receive for being in love with you. A friend-fucking-zone.

✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧

Back to the current situation.

The flashback got Jeonghan a little bit dizzy. He knew he was going to be friendzoned the moment he’d realized he had feelings for you. But to be honest, he had a sliver of hope that one day, you would see him as more than a friend. People might ask, what made him have such a hope? Jeonghan didn’t know either. A blind optimism? Delusion? Anyway, a hope is a hope.

“I just… I don’t like the fact that you’re seeing that person, you know? A barista? Come on. You can do better than that.”

Jeonghan knew it was a dick move to say something classist like that. He was an accountant and everyone including him knew he earned way more than that Minghao guy. If Jeonghan was in his right state of mind, he would never say anything like that. But he was too angry, too jealous and even too sad. So, again, for him, it was justified.

You never once thought Jeonghan would say something with a classist undertone like he just did now. Your jaw dropped in surprise. You had no idea what to say. Your brain just stopped working because this whole situation was way too unexpected to happen. “What the hell did you just say?”

He scoffed. Oh, this was so not him. “Someone like you should be with someone who, I don’t know, better than that Minghao dude.”

Enough with the speechlessness. You felt like you were being degraded. Although Jeonghan’s degrading words weren’t really for you, still, it was your taste in men that got targeted. With rage in your voice, you talked back, “Yeah? Like who? And what do you mean by someone like Minghao?”

“Like me!”

Uh oh. That was it. His emotions got the best of him. He uttered those words with a raised voice. He often dreamed about confessing to his best friend about his undying love. But not this way. Never this way. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He silently cursed his inability to stay calm and keep things cool. He wanted to beat himself up especially after he saw the shocked look on your face.

You were speechless for the nth time tonight and all thanks to Jeonghan. The soft spoken Jeonghan would never attack you multiple times in one go. When you had been angry just a few seconds ago, you were now confused as fuck. You couldn’t wrap your head around the words he just said. What the hell was that? What did he mean by someone like him? Why would he say that?

“Han, a-are you drunk right now? Did you drink something–”

“I’m not fucking drunk, (Y/N)! I’m sober, okay?” Your words were cut short by Jeonghan’s interruption. That irritated him a lot. Assuming him to be drunk? You must be joking.

“Then why did you–”

“Because I have feelings for you, damn it!"

There. The truth was out now in the open. Lingering in the air of the safe haven in the form of your living room, which currently no longer seemed safe for Jeonghan. Despite the voices of the actors conversing in the movie on the TV screen, Jeonghan could hear his heart beat faster than normal. He could also hear the gears in your head work to process the sudden piece of information he had dropped.

Jeonghan didn’t know how long the silence lasted. It felt like an eternity. He currently had two moods now. He either wanted to bury himself deep into the ground or he wanted to burst into tears.

When you finally moved your lips to say something, Jeonghan felt the urge to throw up. He completely had no idea of what was to come. But in a situation like this, he was sure everyone’s brain was programmed to automatically think about the worst case scenario. And what was the worst case scenario in his head now? You rejecting him in cold blood, telling him that you already had your eye on that coffee maker.

“Y-You’re joking, right?” You finally said.

It pissed him off, truly. Was him having feelings for you that shocking to hear? Hadn’t you seen the signs he had tried to show for the past several months? Well, he was completely aware that he had never said it directly that he was in love with you. But hadn’t you realized he had done so many things for you that he would never do to his other friends?

“Of course I’m not. I’m dead serious, (Y/N)!” He said in frustration. Jeonghan was not backing down. The truth was out. Might as well pour his entire heart out to you after holding it in for so long.

You could feel your heart beat so fast. You had never thought that you would be in such a situation. You didn’t know what to say. Your usual talkative self was in a hibernate mode. Your brain stopped working.

“But… why?” You muttered. You needed more information about whatever the hell was happening now so that you could start to think properly.

Jeonghan, getting even more frustrated now, ran his hands through his hair roughly. Why’d you had to ask him that? Couldn’t you just… reject him right at that moment so that the storm of hurt would pass quickly?

“Why what, huh? Why what, (Y/N)? Why am I in love with you? Jesus Christ, have you looked at you? You’re literally perfect. You have bewitched me with your perfection and I have been very willing to be bewitched by you. It’s a blessing for me to get to love someone like you. You make me happy. You make me feel things I hadn’t felt for so long. I love you, (Y/N). I love loving you.” Jeonghan confessed it all almost in one breath.

Seeing your best friend ramble about how much he loved you wasn’t on your bingo card. You had asked Jeonghan to give you a reason why he loved you and there you got it. Still, you found this entire situation confusing as hell. You still lost your ability to think. The only thing you felt right now was, somehow, guilt.

“Jeonghan…” you said his name oh-so-gently. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”

Your apology somehow sounded way worse than he had imagined. It was worse than being rejected in cold blood. Like, why were you sorry? Jeonghan hated it when people pitied him. Especially you.

He gave you a bitter chuckle. “Of course you didn’t. How could you? I never told you anything about it. Don’t be sorry, please. Nothing to be sorry about. I don’t want you to feel guilty. I don’t want your pity. But damn it. It hurts. It hurts a lot. I love you so much but you don’t love me. Not the way I want to be loved.”

When you didn’t say anything, Jeonghan seized the opportunity to say more. He just wanted to let it all out. Friendship gone, be damned. He had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed anyway.

“You didn’t see it, did you? When I did all those things for you. Things I have never done for my other friends because, well, I don’t really see you as my friend. At least in my imagination.” Jeonghan uttered while looking straight into your orbs.

Then, he averted his gaze downwards towards the beige carpet. “And now you went on dates with this… Minghao dude who I have no idea about at all. I don’t know what he looks like. He must be drop dead gorgeous, huh? I bet I can never hold a candle to him. What a lucky bastard. He’s able to brag about going on dates with someone like you. I don’t know who this Minghao guy is but I despise him already. I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I know you think I’m going insane right now. Hell, I probably am. I’m sure I look like a madman but I meant what I said, (Y/N). Every single goddamn word. I meant it.”

You could only look at Jeonghan as he crashed out. All the words he said started to get into your head. You allowed yourself to receive those pieces of information, no matter how absurd your mind made them to be.

You also allowed yourself to dive deep into the memories you had shared with Jeonghan. The moments. The events. All those things where Jeonghan’s actions had clearly shown that he cared for you more than you knew. When he had biked to your place during the rain because his car had broken down. You had experienced immense period pain and you hadn’t been able to stand on your own. So, Jeonghan and his bicycle had made their way to your apartment with a heat pack, chocolate bars and your other favorite snacks.

Despite the discomfort of his soaking wet clothes and the freezing temperature, he had given you the biggest smile when you opened the door. You, being an emotional person that you were, had cried on sight.

That was one of the prime examples of how loud his actions spoke. Even louder than words. You cursed yourself inwardly at how dumb, blind and stupid you had been. All along you had wished for Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet someday, not realizing that your very own best friend had done above and beyond for you under your nose. You couldn’t be more blind than this.

“Please, princess, say something.” Jeonghan pleaded in desperation. The silence was killing him in the most torturous way. He had never deemed himself as someone who couldn’t control his emotions especially when he had an audience in front of him but now was a special case. His vision blurred with tears and he didn’t even hide it from you. This was probably the most vulnerable he had ever been. He had bared his heart and soul in front of you, after all.

You inhaled shakily, readying yourself to say something after being quiet for what seemed like ages.

“Y-You’ve done so much for me…” You looked down and whispered. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at your teary-eyed best friend. “...and I was so blind, wasn’t I?”

The hint of self loathe in your voice didn’t escape Jeonghan’s attention. No. No, no, no. Despite his anger and frustration, his heart softened immediately. He could never watch you blame yourself for anything at all. Ever.

“No, please. It’s not your fault. It’s never your fault. It’s me, alright? It’s all me. I’ve had deep, deep feelings for you but I never said a single thing. I-I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. You didn’t deserve it.” Jeonghan swallowed hard. The lump in his throat almost made him unable to speak.

“W-Why? Why didn’t you say anything? I could’ve been more considerate of how I talked about… things.” Your voice was just above a whisper. Your head was a mess now. You felt guilty and confused at the same time.

Jeonghan wanted to cup your face to comfort you like he had done many times before but he wasn’t sure that you would feel disgusted or not. So, he settled by just grabbing your hand and stroking it with his thumb.

“Hey, it’s alright. Not your fault, okay? And I wouldn’t want you to be considerate of some bullshit and make you stop acting as your usual, comfortable self when you’re around me. I want you to always have your guard completely down when you’re with me.” Jeonghan comforted you while he was supposed to be the one who needed to be comforted.

Your eyes glistened with tears that threatened to fall. “But I hurt you. I’ve hurt you for so long and I didn’t even realize it. I hurt you just now because I selfishly flaunted my dates with Minghao at you like an idiot. I-I should’ve known–”

Jeonghan interrupted you quickly. He couldn’t let you blame yourself any further. He tightened his grip around your hand but it wasn’t too tight to hurt.

“It’s alright. You’re not in the wrong. Yes, I’ve been hurt but that’s just simply inevitable. You didn’t intentionally hurt me.”

Your dam broke. The tears you had tried to hold back were finally free falling now. You leaned closer to Jeonghan, seeking for more comfort and warmth in his arms like you had done a million times before whenever you felt horrible.

Jeonghan’s heart beat a thousand miles per hour. He hadn’t expected you to still want to be this close to him after his confession. Jeonghan pushed all his thoughts away and he wrapped his lean but muscular arms around your body. He stroked the silky strands on the back of your head and let you cry onto his chest. He didn’t mind your tears and snot ruining his shirt. He just wanted to be close to you as much as you wanted to be close to him.

All the overwhelming emotions that you contained were pouring out in the form of your tears. You were sniffling and sobbing on Jeonghan’s shirt, trying to get rid of all the guilt and confusion as Jeonghan kept whispering words of comfort to you.

After you felt like you finally had enough crying, you leaned your head back from Jeonghan’s chest and looked up at him. As beautiful as you were when you cried, the sight was still heartbreaking for Jeonghan because somehow he was the one who caused this. Your eyes were red and puffy and your nose was red as well. Jeonghan slowly reached for your face with his trembling, delicate fingers and started wiping the rest of your tears. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch which caused his breath to hitch. The gesture was beyond intimate.

“I’m sorry for ruining your shirt.” That was the first thing you said after spending your time crying. A bit unexpected, it made Jeonghan chuckle lightly. “That’s alright. No need to worry. I have laundry detergent and a washing machine that works just fine. But… how are you feeling now? Better?” He asked while still looking down at you.

You sniffled again, trying to suck in the snot in your nostrils that had been bothering you. “In a way, yeah. But it’s funny, you know? You’re the one who is hurt and I’m the one who hurt you yet here you are, comforting me while I’m weeping like a loser.” A humorless laugh followed your words.

Jeonghan gave you a tender stare. For him, no matter the reason, if he ever saw you cry, the first thing he needed to do was to comfort you. Reciprocated or not, he would always put you first.

“You know that I could never see you cry, right? Never, ever. Well, unless when we’re watching sad movies.” Jeonghan said with a small smile, trying to lighten up the situation a little. You smiled back at him. Despite your puffy eyes, your smile still looked as pretty as ever.

For a moment, you spent your time like that in silence, staring into each other’s face. It was so intimate. Jeonghan was sure that they were actually the only couple of friends who had ever done this. He got lost easily in your beautiful eyes.

Jeonghan decided to break the silence after some time. Maybe it was just his deluded mind taking control but he believed that the ball was in his court now.

“I need to ask you something, okay? If you’re not comfortable answering, you’re free not to. No pressure, alright?” He said softly, trying not to scare you off. You nodded your head, signalling him to ask you what he wanted to ask.

Jeonghan took a deep breath, bracing himself to ask this dangerous question. “Have you ever… thought about us?” He asked as carefully as possible.

You tilted your head to the side. A gesture you always did whenever you were confused. “Like… romantically?” Your voice was filled with vulnerability.

Jeonghan was so grateful that you could catch up really quickly so he didn’t need to elaborate. His eyes lit up as he nodded, confirming your question. “Yeah, romantically. Have you ever thought about us in that way?” He tried to be as calm as possible but the surge of hope in his voice betrayed him.

Your face turned a bit sad at the confirmation. You bit your lower lip and chewed on the skin there. You didn’t quite know what to say. Never once in your life you had thought of having to face such a question.

Jeonghan picked up your uncertainty and trepidation immediately. Years of being friends with you had made it easy for him to recognize the slightest change in your facial expression.

He stroked your hair lovingly. “It’s alright. No need to be afraid. I’m a big guy, remember? I can handle rejection.” He put on a brave face and a small smile to convince you that he was fine while he was clearly not. Even though he had told you that it was okay if you didn’t want to answer, not gonna lie, he needed to hear what was in your mind. He knew the rejection would hurt him for years but he would rather have that than being kept in the dark for God knows how long.

He kept stroking your hair, trying to make you as relaxed and safe as possible, to show you that you had no reason to be afraid in front of him and you could always be honest whenever you were around him.

You swallowed the lump in your throat before finally speaking up. “I-I don’t know… I’ve thought about it a couple of times.” You said weakly, still with a hint of anxiety.

Jeonghan’s heart skipped a few beats after hearing your words. Like, what do you mean you had thought about them romantically a couple of times? What? HUH?

He had to fight the urge to halt any kind of movements that could ruin the moment. He almost curled his fingers into fists but he couldn’t do that, could he? Absolutely not. Unless he wanted to cause you pain by gripping your hair tightly in his fist. Nope. He wouldn’t do that. He would rather be tied down to a train track with a train approaching than hurting you.

Jeonghan had a really hard time finding his own voice. He tried to speak but no words came out. It was too overwhelming for him. He hadn’t expected this to happen. He had expected you to say “why would I think about us that way?” or something along the line. A big, massive, grand rejection. But, no. This wasn’t a rejection, was it? Nothing had prepared him for this.

Before Jeonghan could say a word, you beat him to it. “But every time I thought about it, it always left me feeling afraid.”

Well, that was another blow Jeonghan had never expected. So the idea of you two being romantically involved scared you. Why on earth? He no longer stroked your hair now. His hands were still around your body but he made no movement.

“And why is that, beautiful? What are you so afraid of? Tell me, please. It’s okay.” Jeonghan finally spoke with a strained voice. He desperately needed to know the reason.

You started to tear up again. You looked down to avoid his eyes. You didn’t want him to see you cry again. You sniffled before you tried to explain to him.

“Because, H-Han, I’m scared of losing you. You’re my safe place. My solace. My comfort. I could act like my very own self unapologetically whenever I’m around you. Y-You’re too precious to me. I don’t want to risk losing you.”

Although he didn’t know what that meant, he had one thing on his mind: he needed to put you at ease. He needed you to know that he wasn’t going anywhere at all. So, he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead. His lips lingered there for a second too long but you didn’t mind it. You breathed shakily as you felt his lips touching your skin. You didn’t pull away a single inch and clutched his shirt in your fists before closing your eyes.

Jeonghan pulled away so that he could look at you. The sight of you having your eyes closed was heartwarming and heart wrenching at the same time.

“Sweetheart…” He called you with a lovely term of endearment and it made you open your eyes. He let his fingers stroke the side of your face with such tenderness. “Why’d you even think that you would lose me? I won’t go anywhere. I promise.”

You shook your head before burying your face onto his shirt. His shirt was still wet because of your tears earlier and you feared that you would ruin it even more now.

Jeonghan tightened his embrace around you.

“I-If we were like that a-and shit didn’t work out… like any other relationships out there, we would end up as strangers and I don’t want that. I don’t want to live in a world without you in it. I’m scared, Han…” Your voice was muffled and Jeonghan could feel your tears on his chest through the fabric of his shirt. “I’m so scared…” you whispered weakly.

The revelation hit him like a truck. So that was the reason. Jeonghan hated to admit it but you definitely got a point. No couple had eternity guaranteed for them. Many couples broke up. Many married couples got a divorce. It was a flawed world they lived in, after all.

But, still, call him delusional or whatever, he still wanted to taste the sweetness of loving and being loved by you properly. As lovers. He wasn’t ready to give that up yet. Especially knowing that the line had been crossed anyway after he confessed his feelings to you earlier.

Jeonghan loosened his embrace around you a little.

“Sweetheart, look at me, please. I need you to look at me. Can you do that? Please?” He begged with such gentleness.

You sniffled a couple times before detaching your face from his chest and looking up to him. Your eyes and nose were red again but still, you looked like an angel in his eyes.

He wiped the rest of the tears on your face with his fingers. “Thank you so much for telling me about your fears, princess. I know that wasn’t easy. Thank you.” He gave the top of your head a short loving kiss before leaning back to look at you again.

“I understand where you’re coming from, really. You’re precious to me too. I would rather die than lose you. But… don’t you think it’s worth the risk?”

You opened your mouth to protest but he interrupted you. He hated interrupting you especially in moments like this but he needed you to hear him out first.

“Please, sweetheart, listen to me first, yeah? I know that there are many couples out there that don't get their happy endings. Their relationships lead them to heartbreak. I get it. I understand. But the love that I have for you… it’s massive, sweetheart. And I’m ready to love you a lot more, if you let me. We could create something so beautiful together, don’t you think?”

His words were true and nothing but the truth. He had so much love to give for you. He was trying so hard not to break down in front of you. Slowly, he took both of your hands in his and brought them to his lips. He pressed gentle kisses on your knuckles, a sign to show you that he meant every word he had said, that he was absolutely devoted to you.

With your hands still in his, he continued. “I would do everything in my power to keep you happy. I would never hurt you, ever. I would never let us fall apart. If you let me, princess. Just say the word and I promise I will prove it to you.”

You felt your heart flutter. You should’ve known that your best friend was capable of loving this immensely. Even without the promise, you should’ve known that Jeonghan would go above and beyond for you. The things he had done for you throughout your precious friendship had proven enough. You just had been too blind and too afraid to acknowledge it all. But still, your fears were still there.

“B-But what if we fought? What if we argued and we broke up? What if I hurt you?” you argued weakly.

Jeonghan chuckled lightly. It seemed like you needed more convincing to finally let go of your fears, to be brave to take a step forward.

“Every couple has their own ups and downs, love. Arguments and fights are inevitable. But we could always communicate. We could always tolerate each other. I’m ready to tolerate all of our differences. And if you hurt me, I’m sure you’re able to apologize and learn from it, aren’t you? Same thing goes for me. Besides, we already have a pretty strong foundation, don’t we? We’ve been friends, well, best friends for six years. The only arguments we’ve made were probably when you insisted on having a night out and I preferred to stay in. Or when I forgot to buy your favorite ice cream that one time.”  Jeonghan stroked your face lovingly with a smile on his face, offering you peace and comfort. “I promise you, there’s nothing we can’t handle.”

And with that, your doubts started to go away. You thought back to the days when you had argued over small things. Nothing intolerable. you couldn’t speak any words against him because he had made a perfect point. Maybe it was time for you to finally be brave and let go of your fears. Maybe it was time for you to completely trust him and create something unimaginably beautiful together. you gave him a vulnerable smile.

Jeonghan’s smile widened. “That’s the beautiful smile that I love so much.”

You could feel your face get warmer. You moved your hands and wrapped your arms around his neck loosely.

“I wanna learn how to love you as much as you love me, Han.”

Jeonghan had never been happier. This was the start of a new story he was about to write together with you.

“And I’ll teach you how. I’ll gladly give you all the time you need. Even if it takes forever.”

He searched for any doubt in your eyes and he found none. So, he softly touched your chin. His thumb was playful enough to trace your bottom lip. “You’re so beautiful, do you know that?” He took his courage to lean his face closer to yours.

Your heart was now beating a hundred miles an hour. Were you really about to kiss your best friend? But the idea of that didn’t sound bad at all. If anything, you were anticipating it.

When you didn’t pull away, Jeonghan inched his face closer. Before his lips landed on yours, he saw you close your eyes. Jeonghan smiled at the sight and he finally got rid of the distance.

Soft was an understatement when he felt your lips against his. He rested his lips there, not moving in the slightest. He was giving you a chance to pull away.

Two seconds had passed and you didn’t show any sign of resistance. So, he saw it as an opportunity to move his lips and you immediately followed his movement. The kiss was hesitant and careful but sweet nonetheless.

Despite the tentativeness, the kiss was better than he had ever imagined before. He had fantasized kissing you on the mouth countless times for years. Never once in his wildest dreams had he ever thought he would get to this very moment.

Because it was your first kiss with each other, Jeonghan didn’t want to cross the line. So, he slowly pulled away. But oh, boy, he needed to think twice about not crossing the line because the sight of you, with your eyes still closed, chasing his lips with your slightly parted ones was more than enough to cause a surge of desire coursing through his veins. He cursed inwardly before crashing his lips on yours again. Self control be damned.

This time, the kiss was more passionate and more urgent. As if Jeonghan was in the middle of a desert and you were an oasis. He moved his lips against yours in a sensual, intimate and lustful dance. It had you surprised for a split second but you were quick to give back the same amount of passion into the kiss.

Sensing that you actually wanted it as much as he did, he tried to deepen the kiss by licking your bottom lip, asking for an entrance. You moaned into the kiss and Jeonghan swallowed your needy sound with greed. He drank up your noises and it caused him to let out a low groan.

You parted your lips slightly, giving him access to explore your mouth. Jeonghan wasted no time sliding his tongue into the velvet walls of your mouth. Their tongues met, tasting and exploring each other. The sweetness of your wet muscles made him dizzy with need. He groaned as he deepened the kiss even more.

His hands were wandering from your waist to your hips. He let his fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt before he boldly slid them under it, caressing your bare skin. You let out a gasp at the contact and it almost made Jeonghan growl.

He let his hands roam around freely on your torso as his kisses strayed away from your mouth to your chin and down to your neck. You couldn’t do anything besides letting him use your skin as his personal playground.

Jeonghan eventually pushed you gently to lay on the couch as he positioned himself on top of you, between your legs. You were a moaning and whimpering mess under him. Your needy noises made him want you even more. His lips kept exploring your neck, trying to find one spot that would make you go insane.

His lips weren’t the only thing that was working overtime. He also licked and nipped your throat. Enough to make you jolt with pleasure but not enough to leave a mark.

“You taste so good, sweetheart. I can do this all day.” Jeonghan whispered hoarsely against your neck. His breath was warm on your skin. You couldn’t speak properly because your brain had short-circuited the moment your lips had met.

Your fingers started tugging on his locks. The simple act made him moan. The feeling of your hands pulling his hair was making him go crazy.

“Mmh, H-Han… please– aah!” you arched your back and cried out when he nipped your collarbone.

Bingo. Jeonghan finally found that one spot that made you see stars. He paid extra attention to that one particular area by kissing, licking, nipping and lightly sucking on it.

Jeonghan chuckled at your inability to form a coherent sentence. “You like that, princess?” He gently bit your skin. “Right here, yeah? This one, sweetheart?”

You could only moan and whimper at the sensuality of his words and the way his mouth pleasured you. You weren't thinking when you bucked your hips against his. That was the moment when Jeonghan realized that he was as hard as rock.

He pulled his lips away from your collarbone and looked down on you, making you whine in protest.

“W-Why… Why’d you stop?” you asked as you were breathing heavily. Your heart was still beating so fast.

Jeonghan was panting as well. He was trying to regulate his breathing. He had to close his eyes because the sight of you so pretty under his body was downright sinful. Slowly, he sat back up on the couch and you followed suit.

“Princess… let’s stop, yeah? We can’t… We can’t keep going on. At least not yet. Not right now.” He said once his breath had started to steady.

“H-Huh? Why? Did I do bad–”

Jeonghan quickly shook his head to interrupt you because it was actually the opposite. You were too good and Jeonghan almost couldn’t resist to just take you and claim you.

He cupped your face in his palms, gently stroking your cheeks. “No, sweetheart. Of course not. You did so good. Too good. And that’s the problem.”

You tilted your head slightly to the side. “Why is it a problem?”

Jeonghan chuckled lightly. You were so adorable. “It’s a problem because I want to be a gentleman and take you out on a date first, okay? I don’t want to act purely on my urges like a wild animal. You deserve better than that, love.”

Your face lit up when the word ‘date’ reached your ears. “Yeah? You wanna take me out on a date?”

He nodded his head at your excitement. He wrapped his arms around your body in a loving embrace. “Of course I do, sweetheart. How does tomorrow sound? A nice and warm Sunday would be a good day for us to go on a date, wouldn’t it?”

You snuggled against him. “That would be so good. The sooner the better.” You were smiling from ear to ear.

“The sooner the better, indeed. So, tell me, what do you have in mind? Do you want something fancy or casual as our first date?” He asked as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Your lips curled in a cheeky smile. “Don’t you know the answer already? Come on, we’ve been attached to the hip for years now.”

Jeonghan let out a laugh at your teasing. “You cheeky little thing. Alright. Casual, it is. How about… going to the beach, hm? We could lay on a blanket, under the sun. Maybe we could eat some pizzas as well.”

Your eyes turned starry when he mentioned the beach. That couldn’t be any better. “Which beach, Han?” you knew he would say the correct answer but you asked him anyway.

He smiled at you before bringing your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles. He looked into your eyes and said, “Azure Cove.”

Your smile widened and you gave his lips a short but sweet kiss. Jeonghan’s heart skipped a couple of beats when you did that. He could never get used to this. Any physical contact with you might cause him a small heart attack.

“You and me at Azure Cove with a box of pizza and a bottle of vodka. Sounds like the perfect first date for me.” You gleamed as you rested your head on his shoulder.

Jeonghan stroked your hair tenderly “It’s a deal, then, yeah? I’ll pick you up tomorrow at ten o’clock. I’ll bring your favorite bottle of vodka with me and we’ll go to Azure Cove.”

“I can’t wait.” You said as you snuggled closer against his body, seeking more warmth.

Both of you spent a few minutes in a comfortable silence with ‘Love, Rosie’ still playing on the TV while cuddling each other on the couch. Then, Jeonghan decided to break the silence.

“You know… I might have something to ask from you.” He said with a hint of distaste and mischief.

You turned your head to look at his face. “What is it?”

Jeonghan’s lips formed a handsome smirk. “Ditch that Minghao guy.”

You bursted out laughing and it made him laugh as well. “Oh my God, Han, I completely forgot about his existence the moment you said you like me. Trust me, he’s the least of your concern right now. I got my eye on you and only you.”

Jeonghan had never ever been happier.

[j2archives]

(LOVER)BOY

summary sam has held a crush on you ever since he’d first saw you down stanford hallways, but once you got partnered up for a school project, sam understands why he’s always felt that attraction towards you. and now you as a sorority girl, have the same one.

pairings stanford!sam x popular!fem!reader

content warnings sam is a cutie, mentions of reader being a sorority girl, valentine’s day!!, sam watches a rom-com for reader, reader catches him staring at her lips, sam cannot stop falling in love with her, SMUT!!, unprotected sex, p!v, kissing, sub!sam, soft dom!reader, praise, dirty talk, creampie (if you squint), really needy, sam begging and whimpering, mentions of sam’s… size, short but cute ending, short and sweet honestly (go stream short ‘n sweet deluxe!!), and more.

notes definitely for my two babies @immodestly-marina AND @h8aaz . . . 1k+ and proofread, kinda rushed (i’ve been sitting for 3 days stuck on the sub!sam part because IM IN LOVE w/ this puppy dog eyed boy

Your dorm room is silent, but not an uncomfortable silence. it was comforting, a contrast to the usual music blasting in your ear around this time. most of your saturdays were spent like that, either being a designated driver for the drunk sorority girls or being the one in the backseat shitfaced straight to hell. but not today.

it was valentine’s day, and you weren’t at a party. you weren’t getting shitfaced. you were spending it with him.

on tuesday, you were assigned a project, your professor decided on pairing you up randomly instead of letting everyone choose a partner. you got paired with sam, the boy who sat two rows behind you.

he knew who you were, sam had been harboring a crush on you for a while now, and thanks to the professor, he got to speak to you instead of just offering you a pen like he would any other day. he kept to himself most of the time, so sam knew you probably didn’t know who he was. but to his surprise, you did. and the project was finished quicker than you both would’ve expected.

you and sam got along well, you shared a few interests and he was the first guy that didn’t start hitting on you with a pickup line during the first conversation. he was careful, always making sure that it was okay if he asked a question, even if he needed to borrow a pencil, he would ask so sweetly.

your friends didn’t understand why you hadn’t shown up to the party since you usually were always there, and your phone had rang for a good 30 minutes before you turned it off and placed it in your bag. sam was still a bit confused on why you decided to stay with him, he assumed that after the project was done you would’ve gone back to your friend group. but you didn’t, you stayed with him.

now, you were both in your dorm room. sam agreed when you asked him if he would watch a movie with you — maybe he agreed too fast. but here you were, it was a random rom-com. usually sam didn’t watch these type of movies, but he learned that you actually enjoyed laughing at the cheesy moments. and that was enough to convince him. he wished he could mentally record your laughter, store it away in his head somewhere. and your smile, he wanted to take a photo of it and tattoo it in his brain forever.

he couldn’t stop looking at you, admiring every detail on your face.

your voice cut through his thoughts, “what’s going on in there, lawboy?” sam blinked, your words starting to register. his face felt hot, and he was sure there was an obvious blush on his face.

“‘s nothing, just… thinking.” he nearly stumbled over his words, it was hard enough to try and not stutter in any way. but you knew there was more than that. he was sometimes a good liar, but you also could read him like a book. it was one of your talents.

“so… staring at my lips helps you think?” sam hadn’t realized that his eyes had lingered on them for so long, his eyes widened for a brief second as he tried to get an answer out. but you cut him off with your lips before he could.

he froze for a split second, but he melted into it. you could feel his lips moving back against yours, and you swore he seemed eager. your fingers went up to curl in his soft locks, tugging at them. sam let out a soft moan, his lips parted just enough for you to slip your tongue past. you explored every corner and crevice of his mouth, wanting to taste him. and he let you.

when you moved to straddle his lap, sam’s hands lifted to rest on your hips. his thumbs stroked the skin underneath the hem of your tank, your lips never disconnecting once. reluctantly, he pulled away, trailing open-mouthed kisses down starting from your jaw. his lips grazed over your pulse point, starting to suck and nibble at the sensitive skin, earning a gasp from you.

“fuck,” your curse spurred him on further, his fingers making their way up to the thin straps of your top. he tugged at it, looking up at you for permission.

“can i?” why did he have to sound so sweet?

with your nod, he tugged the straps down. he didn’t think anything could drive him more crazy but, you wearing no bra underneath did. sam’s thumbs traced over your nipples, feeling them harden beneath his touch. your hips rolled down against his, experimenting. this time, both of you let out a moan. you could feel his hardness pressing firmly against your core and you couldn’t help but to keep grinding down against it, craving the friction again.

—

he lifted his hips to help you undo his slacks, watching you undo his belt and pull down his jeans past his knees. you were both bare besides the thin barrier of his boxers and your panties were the only thing that separated you two. sam sounded breathless, “i need to feel you… please, baby.” he sounded so pretty when he begged, and you took note. keeping that in mind for next time.

once you started to lift yourself up, both hands flew to your hips to hold you steady. god, it was better than he imagined. your hands teased the hem of his briefs before tugging the fabric off. he was aching for this, the tip of him flushed a pretty red tint.

and he was leaking like a girl. all for you. everything was for you. it always had been.

“is that okay?” he sounded nervous, and his manners just fueled your arousal even more. he was putting your pleasure before his, wanting to make sure you were comfortable.

“you’re perfect, sam.” a nervous smile curled up on sam’s lips at your praise. the pink hue that was more evident on his cheeks was beautiful. he really was, and the way he was looking at you…

sam thought you were one of the most gorgeous, smartest, amazing women on campus, he always had. every time you walked down the hallways or on the sidewalks next to the building, he had his eyes on you. the way your hair flowed, the way your eyes darted to pay attention to who was speaking… when you first did that with him, he thought he would simply pass away. now he was going to have sex with you? now you were praising him? of all people? he’s never been harder in his life.

the hands on your hips guided you to align with his cock. once you hovered over him, sam let one hand slip down to your panties. he could feel the heat radiating from your core, “you’re so beautiful.” and he means it. he really does.

you were soaked, a damp patch apparent where your covered slit was. his eyes widened when he realized. sam winchester, the prelaw student, had you, the popular girl, wet because of him. fuck, he was gonna have good dreams tonight.

sam felt your hand over his, guiding him to pull your panties aside. revealing your most intimate part, he took in a sharp intake of breath.

“do you want me to do this with you, sam? is that okay?” you wanted to make sure this was what he wanted, even though the answer was obvious. he really was a sight to behold. he was perfect, thick and long… and much larger than anyone you’ve ever taken. but especially much softer, more gentle with you. he wasn’t trying to rush you, he was letting you take the lead.

“yes. please.” he begged, his puppy-dog eyes looking up at you with a loving expression.

he grasped his length in his hand, his free one on your hip. guiding his tip to your entrance, sam leaned forward. He captured your lips in a gentle, but passionate kiss. Soothing your nerves as he helped you lower down onto his cock.

you gasped against his mouth, the stretch burned a bit at first. and it took you a while to adjust to the intrusion, sam was still — he knew he was big, not in an egotistical way, but he knew it was a lot for you. His thumb stroked the skin of your hip, and now his other hand stroked the inside of your thigh. Once you were fully seated, he pulled away an inch. in a soft voice, “are you okay? we can stop if you want.” always a gentleman.

“no, no it’s okay, baby. jus’ give me a few minutes.” sam’s heart fluttered at the pet name, and he nodded. he never stopped the gentle caress on your sides, now pressing kisses to your jaw in attempts of calming you. and he was damn good at it.

with a deep breath, you nodded.

the first time you moved, you both groaned. he filled you deliciously, all in the right places. you didn’t want to stop, and you started a steady pace. he latched onto your nipple, sucking and biting at the pebble. your fingers went to his hair, tugging and stroking through the brown strands. sam whimpered against your breast.

he fucking whimpered because you pulled his hair. his hips bucked, earning a loud, wanton cry from you. the way you were bouncing on his cock, looking so blissed out because of him… it drew out a string of curses and moans from him. the sound of skin meeting skin, the obscene sound of your pussy being filled with every inch of his dick made his eyes roll back.

“y-you’re so tight, mph-“ your eyes rolled back, feeling sam twitch inside of you. you kissed him hard, pulling harder at his locks. mumbling against his lips, you managed out: “you’re so big in me, sam… fuck, is this what you imagined? you feel so good, baby.” the last sentence was a drawn out moan. you were so close, and he was barely hanging on. the way you tightened and pulsed around him made his balls draw up tight.

he whined this time, “i need to cum, please. please let me cum inside you- inside your pussy, fuck!” his voice was breaking. he wanted you, he needed you. you took pleasure in this, from him. it was driving you over the edge just by how pathetic he sounded right now.

“yes, you can. yeah, sammy… you can cum. fuck, push me over the edge, i know you can.” your forehead was pressed to his, your hips moving faster. his hand was shaky as he took two fingers to your clit, rubbing the pearl in continuous circles. sam barely could contain his cries as he came, painting your inner walls pure white. he felt your cunt spasm around him, and his body went limp beneath you.

sam let you ride out your orgasm on him, using his body for your pleasure. the sight was fucking stunning… there was a stirring in his groin again. he didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop.

“I um, I meant to say. Happy Valentine’s day.” a smile curved up on your lips, looking up at his still pink face. god he was adorable, “Happy Valentine’s day, Loverboy.”

[activesplooger]

𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓓𝓪𝔂 𝓕𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓜𝔂 𝓕𝓲𝓬𝓼

ᴠᴏx x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | 𝓐𝓭𝓪𝓶 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 | 𝐿𝓊𝒸𝒾𝒻𝑒𝓇 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 | 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary: What reader got from some of my fics !! ft. vox, adam, lucifer, and alastor

ᴠᴏx:

ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴍᴇ | ᴠᴏx x ᴀꜱꜱɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴛ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ - a voxtech company card that went out to all employees. however, a little message was inside! :) "To my favorite employee,

Happy Valentines Day.

-Your Boss

-Your Friend

-CEO of Voxtech

-Vox

ʜɪꜱ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ | ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ!ᴠᴏx x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ - shit ton of gifts, a fabulous dinner, and a pair of lingerie... yay.... his hands werent away from you for even one second: caressing you, holding your hand, lingering on the small of your back, etc.

oh and he fucked you ALL night

and though youd never admit it, it was a bit enjoyable

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ | ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴀᴜ - a weird morning mass about saving yourself for marriage and cherishing your husband/wife— immediately followed by a gentle fucking in his office upstairs

ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ - he wined and dined you tonight! what kind of loser overlord is alone on valentines day? he couldnt be seen alone! so, he brought you to a fancy dinner place and bought you a nice dress to wear so you wouldnt look like a hooker! it was nice, and he paid you double for the occasion. Though, once you two were out of the spotlight of publicity, he brings you back to his dark, desolate, penthouse where he cries softly as you suck his dick. yikes....

reader, talking with her mouth full: are you crying?

vox: *sniffles* NO SHUT UP

𝓐𝓭𝓪𝓶:

𝓐𝓭𝓪𝓶 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽 | 𝓥𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓪 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓕𝓵𝓾𝓯𝓯 - adam awkwardly shows up to your door with flowers and chocolate, mumbling about how he doesnt usually do this "simp ass shit". he hands you the gifts and asks you to be his valentine, you laugh and nod, "of course!"

𝓗𝓞𝓞𝓣𝓔𝓡𝓢 - a hugeee tip stuffed in your pocket along with a little card that says "be mine <3 please". anddd once hes drunk enough he gives you a valentines day motorboat which immedietly gets his drunk ass thrown out of the hooters. what a man

𝐿𝓊𝒸𝒾𝒻𝑒𝓇:

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 - morning sexxxx!!!! you wake up to him already buried inside you from last night, his dick fluttering to life as he wakes up. he starts to thrust into you lazily as he presses kisses to the back of your neck. "happy valentines day, princess". he then makes you pancakes and babbles on about the fancy resturant he plans on taking you to later

(holy shit i need to write for him more lmao. once ss2 comes out my hyperfixation will come back fr. i have more fics than just the one but idk lucifer would do this in all of them aqkfhjbwefjhwbf. ALSO WHY I GOT SO MANY FUCKING ANGSTY FICS FOR HIM LMFAO???)

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫:

𝐑𝐮𝐭 𝐒𝐙𝐍 - he cooked for you :) a nice homemade dinner that consisted of a nice cooked deer and gumbo! it was delicious, of course... he surprisingly kept his urges under control; it was that time of the year again and you had no idea. it wasn't until you took your jacket off that he went feral. the sight of your bare shoulders and sinfully low neckline made him pounce. his pupils were blown wide at you and jumps at you across the table like this (lol)

bites the shit out of you and rips ur clothes off. you werent sure if he wanted to eat you or fuck you (probably both) but you were into so hell yeah.

𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 | 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅 - a sickeningly sweet note left on the bed with love petals leading up to your shared bathroom. following the petals, your led to a beautifully set up bath with essential oils, bubbles, flowers, you name it. but the most beautiful thing is the sight of your lil deer soaking up in the bath waiting for you, "happy valentines day, my dear! care to join me?"

__

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY BITCHES!!

ok now pray that i finish his new obsession part two lol

[pearlescentparade]

Hi!! here for a request for Noob X killer! reader (forsaken) fluff headcanons

yung kai - blue lyrics.

OMG NOOB..... let's hope i can get them right

🔰noob x killer! reader fluff headcanons 💝💞

noob walks right up to you when the round starts, blissfully unaware of your status as a killer. they believe you're just another friendly face that they can stick with in this scary new environment

you consider making a bloodbath of them, until they offer to share their snacks with you. automatically, you assume it's a peace offering or a plead for mercy. though you can't eat, you enjoy the sacrificial offerings regardless

they like to set up picnics with you during the round. they'll put out all of their food, sit down, and just chat about whatever comes to mind. you usually only listen and rarely chime in, but noob appreciates the company anyway. it helps them regain a sense of normalcy, and feel like they're living their old life before they were taken here. and while you've never known a life outside of this world (or at least, the spectre makes sure you don't remember it), you think you would've liked it to be something like this too

adding on, noob likes to play a game with you where they describe things in the 'real world' that they think you would have liked. even if you've never seen or heard of these concepts, you trust their judgement

it's always nighttime in the realm. so on your picnic dates, noob likes to stargaze with you. they don't know any constellations, so they make up their own

"that small star is me, and that big one next to it is you!"

"..how will we be able to tell them apart from the other stars?"

"they're really close together. like us!"

they trail you through every round, clinging onto your back like a lost puppy. when you encounter another survivor, you instruct noob to hide and close their eyes so they don't see you completely mutilating their friends. they are always the sole survivor

they are very jumpy. any sudden spooky noises in the ambience will make them latch onto you and cower. they've jumped into your arms before, and the embarrassment helped them forget all about their fear

the spectre blocks you from reciprocating any actions of love. even so, that doesn't deter noob from displaying his affection. they will hug, kiss, and compliment you like it's nobody's deal! they assure you that even if you physically can't do anything back, your presence is more than enough

often, you'll sneak up on survivors while they're doing a generator. all of them run in fear, except noob, of course. they sit there, still attempting to solve the puzzle on the generator. you'll hover over them, instructing them where to put what wire and what not. the accomplished smile that explodes on their face when they finish it invokes a feeling in you that even the spectre struggles to suppress

if anyone tries to give noob a hard time for lacking knowledge on how to do things, you target them heavily. and when you catch them, you ensure their death is gory and painful

sometimes, you bring their head to noob as a trophy and symbol of your love (since it's the closest thing you can do to show it). you even make sure to clean it and cauterize the wound where you severed their head from their neck so there's no blood at all, just for them!

"look, little fledgling. i've damned your enemy. now they won't bother you."

"AGH- that's- oh my goodness- uh.. i appreciate it, really-! i.. i just... i think i'm gonna throw up-"

"...apologies. i thought you would've liked to see it. it felt more romantic in my head."

"it's- it's okay, i'm- ough...- i'm fine with what you usually do.. it's the thought that counts..!"

they like to attempt to scare you by reappearing after eating their ghostburger. it never works, but you think it's cute. you'll even pretend your roles are switched, and you'll run from them as they act like the big bad killer chasing you

since noob had opened up to you about their drinking addiction, you've put a limit on how much bloxy cola they drink per round. if they've already reached it and try to go for another, you'll snatch it away and crush it in your hands. they protest about the waste of food, but can you really call the highly sugary processed drink 'food'?

because of your increased speed as a killer, noob likes to ride on your shoulders and pretend they're in a cart ride. you'll even go up and down slopes in the map and move in zigzag patterns to simulate the winding track, like how noob describes them

the other survivors use noob as bait, sending them out to find you first before you get to anyone else so that they can minimize the casualties. it's not in a mean-spirited way, it's a practical strategy because noob is able to distract you for the entire round and prevent you from killing anyone as long as long as the others stay out of your sight. noob doesn't mind, they'll happily assist their friends in anyway they can, considering they don't have any team-support abilities

(parade postscript: i tried to incorporate some of the song lyrics into the hcs, especially with the stargazing one! though i didnt know if i did it well LOL the song's meaning and lyrics kind of made me feel sad bc it felt very angsty with the themes of yearning and unrequited love, but i tried to focus on the sweet parts of it for the hcs :'])

[fuctacles]

i was gonna cut it in half, but you get 2k for Valentine's Day <3

<< thirteen | 😺 | fifteen >>

Eddie asks Wayne where is a good place to make key copies, and drafts a plan. He'll go to Steph's salon, pick up her keys, make a copy for her, and drop them back before she leaves work. Just a tiny good deed from a friendly neighbour, so she doesn't have to juggle her one set between cat feeders and whatnot. 

Except Wayne sees through him immediately and throws a bucket of cold water on his enthusiasm.

"While I fully support whatever you two are doing..." He promptly raises his hand so Eddie would spare him any of the explanations brewing behind his lips. "I think this would be a little too much."

"How?" Eddie frowns, confused.

"Well, a bachelor she has just met is asking for her keys to make copies. It's a little too much too fast, don't you think?"

Eddie opens his mouth, closes it. Frowns.

"Maybe?"

"How would you feel if a new friend thought they know better how many keys you should own?" Wayne raises his eyebrows. "And took it upon themself to do it for you?"

"Okay, fine, I hear you!" Eddie groans, throwing his hands up. 

Wayne sips on his coffee, now calm enough that his nephew won't do something too stupid. 

"With that said, I too think it's silly to not have a spare."

"Thank you," Eddie murmurs, drumming his fingers against his cup. "So what do I do?"

"Buy her flowers, ever heard of it?" Wayne raises his eyebrow. 

Eddie twists his mouth, unconvinced with the idea. 

"I don't know, it sounds pretty forward..."

Wayne almost snorts his coffee out of his nose.

Eddie follows the blanket permission he got the last day and walks up to Steph's apartment around the same time. Since he felt that bringing her flowers would be too much, he settled on cookies from his favorite bakery. They could share them with coffee or tea, and it wouldn't be too weird. 

It's just...

He really hopes they could actually talk.

When he opens the doors labeled 54, he's hit with the smell of spices. Steph leans through the kitchen door to greet him.

"Hi! I'm making fried rice, do you want some?"

Eddie nods, curbing the desire to come over and kiss her.

"Yeah, it smells good." He steps into the kitchen, setting the cookies on the counter. "Can I help with something?"

Steph keeps stirring for a second, before she points to one of the cupboards.

"Take out two bowls, please?" she asks.

Eddie's been in the apartment all alone, and he's looked through Steph's stuff to some extent. Opening cupboards while she's cooking shouldn't feel as thrilling as it does. 

When she finishes the food, he grabs beers for the two of them, and they move to the the living room again, a movie already waiting to be played.

"Is Willow okay?" she asks, hovering over the play button, and Eddie's eyes couldn't go any wider. Only one lamp is left on in the room, and the TV is illuminating Steph like an angel offering him the finest pleasures in life. 

"Is the sky blue?" he shoots back. "It's one of my favorites." 

She smiles, all self satisfied and wide, like she already knew he'll love the movie. 

Eddie tilts his head, eyeing her suspiciously. 

"Did Wayne tell you?"

Steph shakes her head 'no'. 

"It was a lucky guess," she admits coyly. 

Oh, to be known like that by another human. Have someone with enough intimate knowledge of him to guess his thoughts, pick out things they know he'll like. She knows he'll like. 

Eddie does like the movie, but he wishes it was something boring so they could talk. Of course, he's also enjoying having Steph pressed against his shoulder, and the movie is a great excuse to just be in her presence, without the responsible adult communication thing. 

It's when she gets up asking if he wants another beer, when he realizes he's been too engrossed in the movie. 

"Uh, I'm not even halfway," he says, moving the bottle in his hand. 

"But are you gonna drink more?"

"Probably," he shrugs. 

She brings back another four beers, and as this time he's paying attention, he notices she's already drunk a fair amount of the one she's holding.

"Everything okay?" he asks gently. He doesn't remember Steph drinking this fast, or this much, during their previous hang-outs. And it's a weekday, too.

"Mhm, yep." She plops down next to him heavily, but even the weight of her body against him doesn't soothe his nerves. On the contrary. It's easy to tell she's already tipsy, and she's planning to have at least two more beers, including the one in her hand. 

"Not to be a buzzkill, you know..." Eddie licks his lips nervously. "But you're drinking more than usual."

She makes an amused sound, deep in her throat.

"Tell that to my high school self."

"Well, I'm telling it to my adult friend Stephanie, I don't know that other one."

Steph huffs, staring at the screen.

"Good."

At loss of what else to say, he leans back against the couch, hoping the press of their shoulders will bring her some comfort his words apparently can't. He's turning to the TV, when she speaks up.

"I have something to tell you."

Eddie's eyes immediately go back to her, but she's staring ahead. 

"Yeah?" he prompts.

"After the movie."

He's confused and worried, but since she wants him to stay, it can't be anything bad, right?

"Okay," he says, feeling anything but. All the possible confessions are going through his mind, movie forgotten. The only things he's aware of are Steph's movements when she brings up the bottle to her lips, and her muscles flex against his arm, and his own racing thoughts. 

She's going to tell him she's a lesbian just like Robin. Maybe they're secretly a long distance couple, or she has a thing with Joyce. Or she has a man in another state. A secret family, a husband? What if she has a kid? Eddie would make a good step-dad, but he wasn't planning for that any time soon. Or maybe it's way simpler than that, and she'll finally tell him to stop, that she's not interested, never was. That Eddie, a metal musician still in college, isn't worth it. 

"I wasn't born a woman."

The credits are rolling on the screen, letters forming Eddie's miserable scenarios, and he's so focused on them he barely hears Steph's words. But finally, he turns his head towards her. She's slumped next to him, picking on the label of her empty beer bottle. He's so relieved he doesn't understand what's going on.

"I know." Not his best reaction but he can't believe she's been worried about it all this time, drinking just to tell him something he's already figured out.

Steph frowns, before turning to him with glassy eyes. 

"You know?"

He points to the collage on her wall.

"You have your old photos right there?"

She stares at the display like she's seeing it for the first time in her life. Her eyes widen with the realization and she makes a sound between a snort and a groan, head falling back. 

"Of course I fucking do."

Eddie drums his fingers against his beer bottle. He still has a couple of swings left. 

"Is that what you were so worried about?"

"Of course!" She throws out her hands angrily, startling him. "It's always 'do you not want me, Steph?' and then 'ew, you have a what?' or 'i always wanted to fuck someone like that' and honestly? At this point I don't know which one is worse. So yes, I was fucking worried!" 

Steph stands up angrily, swaying a little, but she quickly catches her balance. She starts gathering the empty bottles and Eddie rushes to help before she drops any and makes a mess, but she gathers them petulantly in her arms. 

"You can go, I got this," she says dismissively. 

"I want to help," he protests, hands held out uselessly. Steph marches to the kitchen, all the bottles pressed close to her chest. Eddie quickly follows, but she safely deposits them all in the sink and stares at them, expression hidden by her hair. 

"Stop sucking up to me. I'm not something to be scratched off a bucket list."

"What?" Eddie frowns. 

Steph finally turns towards him, and now he wishes she didn't. Her eyes are sad and angry and he doesn't like them directed at him like that. 

"Is that why you kissed me? Because you knew?"

'I always wanted to fuck someone like that.'

"No. No," he protests firmly. "I liked you before that, it doesn't matter to me."

"Are you sure?" she scoffs. "You might change your mind when I get undressed."

"I highly doubt that." He crosses his arms over his chest. "I've told you I'm not deterred by d—" His eyes widen momentarily, the word lodging in his throat, but Steph only rolls her eyes with annoyance. 

"You can say 'dick'. I have a dick. I am a woman with a dick."

That's a lot of dicks for just a few words. And Eddie is trying to prove that he's into them but not in a weird way. Which is difficult when you're rarely normal about anything. 

"Yeah, that, and I've had close encounters with those, though never on a woman before," he admits. "I would operate whatever genitals you have because they're yours, not because I'm hoping they're a certain way. I don't care. Well, I care because they're yours, but if you told me I can never touch or look, that's okay." Though what a travesty that would be. What about all the orgasms he promised her in his head? But she still has a prostate, right? He probably could—

"Say it," Steph interrupts his futuristic plans.

"Huh?"

"Say I have a dick." She crosses her arms tightly over her chest. 

Eddie inhales deeply. 

"You have a dick. It doesn't matter to me either way. You could have a pussy, a dick, or a cacti, and I would accommodate. Though we probably would have to get rid of the thorns on the last one. Or get me some protective gear."

She lets out a startled snort.

"Yeah, sure. We'll see about that."

It sounds like a challenge, and while Eddie might hate sports, he loves games. If it's up his alley, he can get competitive easily, and this one promises great treasures, if he wins. 

If only he knew the rules. 

"Tomorrow, same time. Wear something comfortable."

Eddie's eyes widen.

"For what?" His voice comes out higher than he'd like, but his mind quickly resurfaces from the gutter it found itself in, and he frowns, suddenly suspicious. "Will you make me exercise?"

Her features soften, and a playful smirk pulls on her lips. 

"You'll see."

Her smile is a good sign, even if it's at his expense, so he decides not to push his luck anymore and end the night here. 

"Well, I'm gonna..." He awkwardly motions to the door, hesitating. 

Steph is leaning against the bar counter, watching him knowingly. 

"You can get a goodnight kiss tonight," she says, resting her cheek against her palm. "Or get more tomorrow."

Eddie wonders, if the game has already started. He puts his quick Dungeon Master wits to work, and figures with how far he's come, he gets advantage on the Charisma check. 

"I could live off of goodnight kisses for forever," he says. "There's no need for anything more."

He almost feels bad at how fast her resolve crumbles, giving place to fiery red flush. 

"Fucking charmer," she scoffs almost angrily, before rounding the counter towards him. The energy coming off of her makes him take a step back, and he hits the front door. Steph's nails scratch the wooden surface right next to his ear. She tilts her head. 

"You're gonna put your money where your mouth is?" 

Eddie's been trying to get better at that, sometimes to his own demise—staying true to his words, keeping promises. So he reaches for her neck and pulls her in.

It's more like their first kiss than the last one. It's hungrier, the knowledge that they both want more seeping into their muscles, grasping at clothes, pulling and pushing. Eddie groans into Steph's hot mouth, happy to be pressed between her soft, strong body, and the cold door. She pushes even closer, gathering the sound with her tongue and claiming it for herself. 

They pull apart with a wet smack, and Steph laughs breathily at the dopey smile she finds directed at her. She pats Eddie's cheek affectionately and untangles herself from his grasp. The door clicks when she twists the lock, and it seems to bring Eddie back from his daze. 

"Goodnight, Eddie," she says pointedly. 

He blinks at her, before his soft smile comes back, and he reaches up again to place one last kiss on her lips. 

"Goodnight. See you tomorrow," he smiles, before slipping outside the door. 

Steph is terrible person, and also more smitten with this boy than she'd want to admit, so she looks through the peephole at the dimly lit corridor. She hopes Eddie can't hear her chuckle at the silly dance he does while walking away from her door.

@wheneverfeasible @steddieinthesun @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @bumblebeecuttlefishes @phantomcat94 @tartarusknight  @tinyplanet95 @steddiefication @estrellami-1 @disrespectedgoatman @madigoround @tartarusknight @blasvemous @cryptid-system @hiei-harringtonmunson @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @dreamercec @manliest-of-muppets @bookbinderbitch @marklee-blackmore  @icecat @rootbeerandmusic @mollymawkwrites @milojames16

help me with rent

[maplegyu]

THE WAY I CLICKED THIS SO FAST BECAUSE OF THE TITLE!!!!!??!?!

I RECOGNIZE THAT QUOTE ANYWHERE 😭 (its even the header of one of my sideblogs!!)

BUT I DIDNT WANT TO ASSUME SO WHEN I GOT TO THIS PART!!!!!! I ACTU SQUEALED

I KNEW WHAT WAS COMING. I KNEW WONU WOULD CONFESS IN THE BEST MOST CREATIVE MOST ROMANTIC WAY POSSIBLE BUT I WAS STILL WAS NOT PREPARED WHEN I FINALLY READ THE FIC THROUGH!!!!!!! One of the best shortforms i've ever had the pleasure of consuming!!!!!

You catch how his fingers curl and uncurl in his jacket, the poor fabric already wrinkled at his fidgeting.

Of course the visions in my head for this was *the* Darcy hand clench scene

Years ago, there had been a time when you entertained the thought of dating Jeon Wonwoo. In night-outs where he’d offer to get you home, a hand on your back to keep you from stumbling as you’d fumble for keys that always ended up at the bottom of your bag. He had even taken to keeping a pair of slippers in his car, in your size, for you to change into when your feet were hurting. Wonwoo never told you—he just knew your foot size, just cared in the understated, quiet way he always did. When you found out, you remember thinking that this would be the kind of man you wouldn’t mind offering your heart to. Thought that obviously he’d only do something like that for someone he was in love with.

PLEASE THE WAY THE WRITING TRANSLATED INTO A VISUAL MONTAGE IN MY HEAD???!?! HOW COULD I NOT SWOON!!!! HOW COULD I NOT ROOT FOR THEM!!!??! MY GODDDDD the seed of wonu being an austen-coded man has forever altered my brain chemistry. I truly love any and everything remotely austen-adjacent!!!!

Today, that bird you had deprived of the sun beats its wings against your ribcage, insistent once more. Your body is simultaneously numb and buzzing with energy, as though it could not decide whether it wanted to freeze up or run a few hundred laps.

Just stellar writing and imagery all around. One of the first things i thought was that this is such a fantastic example of figurative language! 💖

This whole scene... god ITS LITERALLY MY VERSION OF READER'S: me!!! but also me when!!!!!

“In case it isn’t obvious, Jeon Wonwoo, I’ve been in love with you too.” You whisper. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. Where before, he was afraid to look at you, now, it seems it’s all he can do. The fondness in his gaze is enough to bring anyone to their knees.

THE CONFESSION WAS SO GOOD AND CONFIDENT. THE FOREHEAD RESTING IS SO REGENCY-CODED I KNOW ITS MODERN DAY BUT THE CALLBACKS TO THINGS PLAYING OUT A LITTLE OLD FASHIONED PERIOD JUST FEELS SO ROMANTIC TO ME!!!!!!!!!!

“That was hell of a gamble for Valentine’s,”

I LOVED THIS LINE SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!

idk what it is... it made it feel like the stakes were extra high but wonu was just that sure/confident!

“You’re okay. I don’t think I’m up for anything, er, more, tonight, but can we please keep kissing.”

I loveddd this too!!! It was so cute and suchhh a mood! Hahaha

Behind your ribs, the bird flies, finally free.

PERFECT FREAKIN ENDING. everything was just lovely from start to finish! this is perhaps my fave wonu fic ive read to date!!! 💖💖💖

Thank you for writing and sharing this 🥰

if i loved you less

summary. wonwoo's biggest gamble starts a week before valentine's day. pairing. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader genre/tags. non-idol!au, friends to lovers, bookworm!reader, spoilers for a 210-year old novel, wonwoo wins most creative confession, suggestive at the end wc. 2.9k suggested listening. pretty u, seventeen // dreams, the cranberries // andante andante, abba // i will, the beatles // library card, janani k. jha // aphrodite, the ridleys

notes. late to a hearts day posting, but pls accept this humble offering in between thesis cramming! i first pitched this to kae waaay back, but unfortunately it is not royal/period au (sorry ueueue). i read aspen's accidental one night stand ww and dug around my wip's for this in a fit of madness LMAOOO as always, reblogs are appreciated and come say hi if you're so inclined 🫶🏼

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Wonwoo hands you a package wrapped in brown paper, tied neatly with twine. Your eyes light up as you accept it with a soft thank you.

“Aren’t you a week early?”

“I know,” he replies simply. “I wanted to ask you to finish reading this by Friday.” Your brow furrows.

“Is it something I can finish by then?” Wonwoo nods. You feel the weight the parcel in your hands, considering his strange request.

“What brought this on?” You ask. 

The shift is subtle, but you notice it nonetheless—a flicker of something passing across his eyes, and his shoulders tensing up before he pulls them down again. Wonwoo looks away, as though steeling himself for something.

“It’s my reading recommendation.”

“Yours?” You straighten. Wonwoo’s never gifted a book to you before based on his own taste. He always based it off your reading list, after being hopelessly lost navigating a bookstore and asking the clerk for help, only to give you a book wildly different from your preferences.

You hold the book close to your chest. “Can I open it now?”

“No.”

“Fine,” you pout, then frown as a thought comes to you. “Wait. I remember telling you I’m on a ban right now.”

Normally, Wonwoo was scrupulous about following your rules, one of which being that he can’t gift you a book if your current priority was reading through the ones you already had.

He seems to weigh his words carefully before replying. “I just thought this one was too important to pass up.”

You catch how his fingers curl and uncurl in his jacket, the poor fabric already wrinkled at his fidgeting. Trying to make your voice as soothing yet nonchalant as possible, you pull your lips up to a grin, thumbing the edge of the twine ribbon. “I suppose I can make an exception for my best friend.”

It seems to have the opposite effect.

There it is again—the subtle shift in his demeanor, the miniscule purse of his lip before Wonwoo speaks. “Do you have dinner plans, or are we doing movie night again?”

“Movie night sounds good. Any requests for food?”

Normally, Wonwoo would ask you to prepare ramyeon, especially after you had figured out Mingyu’s recipe, while he brought dessert. But his reply, like everything else in this conversation, is unexpected. “I’ll handle it.” He checks his watch before leveling you with an apologetic look. “I have to run. There’s a bunch of shit to do at work between, but I’ll see you on Friday?”

If he wanted to talk to you, he would. You’d never push him to say anything he wasn’t ready to share. You repeat this to yourself, even as you nod, maintaining your façade of soothing nonchalance.

“Yeah, see you.”

For the past couple of years, Wonwoo’s gift of choice has always been a book. After your protests at the price of new titles and your steadfast allegiance to your library card, among other reasons, the rules had been laid out as follows:

Copies should, as much as possible, not be brand new. They could be from thrift stores, secondhand shops, yard sales, or those Facebook groups where owners sold their old titles. Only new releases would be the exception, and even then, indie bookstores should be the first place to look.

Refer to the Notion page of your current to-be-read list for possible titles.

If you were on a book buying ban, so is he; it’s bad enough that your shelves continue to groan under the weight of books still unread. 

The first rule was for your indulgence, too. You happened to take home a volume of the Diaries of Anaïs Nin only to find notes scribbled in the marginalia, and fell in love immediately. It’s a rare thing in your collection, but you do have someone’s old Letters to Milena and Giovanni’s Room, the latter with annotations in Arabic, of all languages.

You stare at the unwrapped gift, heart in your throat.

Emma.

Wonwoo must have been lying when he said it was his recommendation; you have your own well-worn copy, annotations and all, sitting in the corner of your shelf dedicated to Austen. Hands shaking, you open your messages, snapping a photo of the book laying on the desk.

You [picture] ??? wonwoo?? (Seen)

He sees it almost immediately; three dots appear onscreen. you hold your breath.

aa wonu It’s a gift. Don’t overthink it. But I hope you won’t get mad.

You is it smth I should be mad abt?

aa wonu Up to you.

You you know i’ve read emma, right

aa wonu Have you started reading this one yet?

You turn to Chapter 1, and gasp. There, in black ink, is Wonwoo’s familiar scrawl, remarks littering the blank space between the heading and the text. You flip through the first half, seeing how he’d write anything from a smiley face to bracket off entire passages with an exclamation point. Some brackets and underlines have longer annotations beside them that you have yet to read.

It’s all in black pen—so characteristically Wonwoo, who wouldn’t be the type to use different colored highlighters and page flags, anyway.

You oh my god. wonwoo

aa wonu The last time I read a classic was in high school Don’t judge me too harshly. Please. See you Friday?

You hesitate before replying.

You yeah ofc! see you!!

Your thumbs are shaking too badly as you type the last message; the phone gets thrown on your bed, bouncing once before resting on the pillow. A hand comes up to cover your mouth. You stare at the book, mind whirring.

Years ago, there had been a time when you entertained the thought of dating Jeon Wonwoo. In night-outs where he’d offer to get you home, a hand on your back to keep you from stumbling as you’d fumble for keys that always ended up at the bottom of your bag. He had even taken to keeping a pair of slippers in his car, in your size, for you to change into when your feet were hurting. Wonwoo never told you—he just knew your foot size, just cared in the understated, quiet way he always did. When you found out, you remember thinking that this would be the kind of man you wouldn’t mind offering your heart to. Thought that obviously he’d only do something like that for someone he was in love with.

Now, of course, after his exes and your own, and no confession in sight, you had buried your wishful thinking in the deepest parts of your heart. You’d even grown to appreciate it more, finding comfort in the care that was independent of any romantic expectation.

Wonwoo, your best friend, chose, out of all the books to annotate and gift you, Emma. You know how the story goes. He knows you know how it goes. Yet Wonwoo’s thoughts are here, immortalized and entrusted into your hands, the same hands you have now buried your face in while trying to reel in your breaths.

Today, that bird you had deprived of the sun beats its wings against your ribcage, insistent once more. Your body is simultaneously numb and buzzing with energy, as though it could not decide whether it wanted to freeze up or run a few hundred laps.

It could be nothing—could be like that time with the slippers again where you allowed yourself to be caught in your wishful thinking. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it isn’t. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it is.

You welcome Wonwoo in your apartment with a painfully bright grin, accepting his proffered bag of takeout before ushering him inside. He had offered only a soft hello, barely a smile on his face as he took off his shoes by your entrance. You couldn’t bring yourself to keep up any chatter while he washes his hands in your kitchenette, even as you busy yourself a few feet away with peeling off the tape on the plastic containers and wiping away any grease that leaked out.

“I’ll set up the table,” he breaks the silence, gaze unreadable. He’s already holding the two rice containers, and two pairs of chopsticks from your stash. 

You paste on a smile, tape still sticking to your fingers. “Sure.” 

He walks away. Not even when Wonwoo had broken up with his last partner, who made him choose between them and you, has it been this awkward. Steeling yourself, you join him, setting down the plate of chicken and bowl of steaming kimchi jjigae a safe distance from the laptop.

Before you begin eating, you hold up a hand for him to wait. Reaching into a nearby drawer, you pull out and offer your own present—a beta-release of a game he had been eyeing for some time now. Wonwoo’s eyes soften.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as though he hadn’t been expecting you to gift him anything.

“Of course,” you respond immediately. Wonwoo glances at you before looking away. He always sits across you when you eat, and you catch the micro-changes in his expression as he shifts, staring hard at a spot on your floor before picking up his chopsticks. He looks at anything but you. The sound of the bamboo breaking seems to echo around the space.

Eventually, it’s too much for you to bear. You square your shoulders, inhaling a quick, sharp breath.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you begin, tentatively.

“…I thought about not coming,” he replies, raising his eyes to meet yours, which have not yet looked way from him. He looks away again. Something in your chest twists painfully, even if your body is buzzing with repressed adrenaline.

“Do you still want to watch a movie? Or are we gonna talk about it?”

Wonwoo’s eyes are guarded. “Is there anything to talk about?” he replies, an edge in his voice. “You never messaged after that day.” 

“I thought you wanted today to be the day we talked about it? Seemed like too big of a thing to discuss over text.” And you had spent the last week agonizing over what to feel, how to feel, what to say, and how to say it. He presses his lips together, fixing his gaze on the piece of napa cabbage resting on top of his rice. The broth stains the grains around it with a tint of red. 

He rests his chopsticks against the rim of the bowl before leaning back, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. It’s a lot. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be sorry.” The response feels automatic, but you do mean it. He has nothing to be sorry for.

You look at him, really look, searching his features. There’s something in his eyes that breaks your heart—as though he had come here already expecting heartbreak, yet showed up nonetheless. 

Just like that, all the questions, any plans you had for today, vanish like smoke. 

“Just—just wait here.” You set your chopsticks on your bowl. The bamboo clacks softly right before the chair creaks as you stand, stumbling back a little as you turn to your bedroom. 

“Where is that—” you mutter. “Aha!” You run back to the table, where Wonwoo is waiting. Under his fingers, the takeout napkin is all but shreds, though he does try to hide it under the table once you arrive. You approach him, dragging your chair so you can sit beside him, nothing separating you.

“Hold out your hands,” you instruct. Wonwoo does, and you set down a copy of Emma on his waiting palms. But not the one he gave you the other day. It’s yours, the one you’ve owned for many years.

Wonwoo stares at it, before lifting his gaze to you. 

“Did you know,” you begin softly. “I used to like Persuasion the most. I loved how it was written, how both characters were more mature than the ones in her other books. Pride and Prejudice had my favorite characters. But Emma…”

You thumb at its spine, and then at the crease on the cover, a thin white line disrupting what would have been solid black. Its careworn edges are familiar under your fingertips, and you know if you fan the pages in front of your nose it will smell like the characteristic scent of old books.

“Emma is the one I reread the most. At least, certain parts of it.” There’s a page marked—the scene where Mr Knightly finally lays his heart bare to Emma. From behind your back, you bring out his gift, flicking through the pages until you find the same page in this copy, Wonwoo’s only highlight in a book annotated with black pen. 

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

In your copy, there’s the same, with a note in your handwriting—in the script you first learned in high school and tried to revisit some years ago before giving up: me!!! but also me when!!!!!

Wonwoo looks at both of these, mouth parted. You know how sharp he is, how the pieces have already come together in his mind. 

“Really?” He asks, voice soft, as though he can hardly believe it. The only thing left is for him to believe it. You know, because you are the same. It was only the heartbreak in his eyes, the anticipated rejection at the start, that made it sure for you. 

Tentatively, your hands wander, moving from clasping the book to cupping his hands, cool under your own. You glance down at the book.

“‘If I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream.’” Finally, you allow the giddy smile to spread across your face. Your heart flutters against your ribs, so utterly alive. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

His lips twitch upward. After a moment, he begins to chuckle, and the weight on his shoulders seems to dissolve before your eyes. You begin to laugh too, simply out of the sheer relief of finally realizing that the past few days are now behind both of you. 

“In case it isn’t obvious, Jeon Wonwoo, I’ve been in love with you too.” You whisper. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. Where before, he was afraid to look at you, now, it seems it’s all he can do. The fondness in his gaze is enough to bring anyone to their knees.

“Thank God,” he whispers back. You just stay there, basking in the moment, letting the joy finally seep itself into bones that have been weighed by resignation for so long. After a while, you begin to pull away, only you catch how Wonwoo’s gaze drops down as you do. You pause, gazing at him questioningly.

There’s a minute tremble in his hands as he reaches for your face, brushing your cheek with his fingers. His thumb traces a line on your jaw. He leans in, but stops, watching your reaction first before closing the distance all the way.

Though his approach was hesitant, the kiss itself is anything but. His hands find your cheek, then your neck, then your waist, pulling you further forward. You thread your fingers through his hair, both to bring him closer and to anchor yourself. There’s the faint taste of spicy broth, but you don’t care, knowing you’re the same anyway.

“That was hell of a gamble for Valentine’s,” you murmur once he pulls away, shaking your head. “Why now? How long have you known?”

Wonwoo just smiles. “It’s been a few months since either of us had a partner. And after the last one, when I was made to choose…they called me out on how unfair I was being, trying to be with them even as they knew I was in love with someone else.”

Your breath catches in your throat even as he continues.

“I tried to deny it, at the time, but they knew even before I did.” he finishes. He tilts his head and leans forward, closing the distance again. It’s more insistent now, the hands on your waist fully pulling you onto his lap. Wonwoo’s teeth nip at your lower lip, and you gasp. It shifts from chaste into something more demanding; his hands wander, fingers trailing paths of fire as they run across your back and grip your waist, as though he were finally releasing everything that had been pent up in him until this moment. 

He swallows you into himself, and you allow yourself to be pulled into his passion. His mouth moves, latching down onto your neck and sucking. A quiet, shuddering moan leaves your lips. Wonwoo freezes. He pulls away, stricken, looking at you.

“Sorry,” he rasps. “I took it too far.” His hair is mussed, lips swollen and puffy. Something in your stomach stirs as you look at him like this—a Wonwoo you’d never seen before. A Wonwoo who is like this because of you. “I—”

You kiss him again, just because you can. Just a small thing, a tender reassurance. Pulling away, you smile. Absently, you play with the short strands of hair at his nape. “You’re okay. I don’t think I’m up for anything, er, more, tonight, but can we please keep kissing.”

After a beat, he chuckles, shoulders relaxing as his thumbs trace circles on your waist. Wonwoo leans in, lets your lips meet again in a slow dance, almost lazy. Like you finally have all the time in the world.

“Okay. But maybe after dinner and brushing our teeth. I’m still hungry.”

“Deal.”

Behind your ribs, the bird flies, finally free.

[honeysorwell]

all of it (all of you) 

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x hairdresser!fem Reader

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Link on AO3

Chapter 2

Tag list: @janeyseymour @italianaidiota @chloeelou02x (and if you want to be tagged too just let me know.)

Warning: there is a line for people who want to kiss Mel's burn hand, and I'm the first in it.

Words: 5,7k

The comments and compliments I received for this work caught me completely unprepared. Guys, thank you all very much for embracing my work with such affection.

Enjoy!

Fifteen people in the last twenty days.

Fifteen people have complimented Melissa's hair in the last twenty days.

In theory, everything was done the same as usual, but by someone else's hands. However, the universe decided to make the redhead feel even more guilty about everything that happened on her last visit to the salon.

First, it was Barb. The older woman touched Melissa's red hair tenderly in the teacher's breakroom, without any apprehension or concern about the second-grade teacher's reaction, and complimented the way it was colored, saying it looked brighter than before.

But it quickly escalated into something more significant.

Ava asked if she did anything differently, and the principal did so while telling a flattering joke asking where her Roger Rabbit was, which even made Barbara laugh softly. Next, it was Janine and Jacob who also complimented her hair, with a shy Gregory by their side who just nodded.

Then more and more parents of students joined the complementary wave of affection towards her. And then Melissa was hearing compliments from Abbott’s new stocker and vending machine operator, a handsome man with hair that was too long for her taste named Julian who now shares the heavy workload of the truck with Gary (causing the bald man with the mustache to blush before he softly agrees with his new co-worker).

Then there are a few random teenagers, grocery store clerks, who stop her to tell her she looks hot, quickly finishing the sentence with a “respectfully” before Melissa even has time to respond to them.

Normally Melissa would love all of this attention, and in another scenario, the compliments would have encouraged her to go out after work on some random Friday night looking for someone brave enough to try something more than a compliment. But this time the Italian woman felt her heart clench and her mind race a thousand miles an hour as she thought about the hairdresser who did that job every time someone complimented her.

So she actively swallows her pride and visits the Riverfront Roots Salon once again. Melissa would truly rather die than apologize or admit she was wrong. She memorized this from her family and she carries this learning throughout her life, but even someone like the redhead needs to admit that nothing can be applied in life without at least one exception.

That's why Melissa makes this visit to the salon on a Tuesday, after the school day is over since the darkness of the night could allow a little more privacy between her and Y/N.

As she parks her car in front of Riverfront Roots, the redhead convinces herself that it doesn't hurt to make sure that only the minimum number of people witness this display of vulnerability coming from a Schimmenti as she watches what seems to be the last customers of the night saying goodbye to the receptionist before leaving.

What will she say?

She has no idea.

But everything goes down the drain when the redhead's idea goes wrong. So when she returns home at night, unable to even talk to the hairdresser to replace the image of discomfort written on Y/N's face from her memory with an apology, Melissa decides to call her confidant and arrange to meet her the following weekend, using the next few days to gather courage and ask for advice from the one who never failed to give her the best of them whenever the teacher needed it.

“Oh, Melissa. How are you, dear? Don't get me wrong, cuz I figured I'd get your call, just not exactly as an invitation for coffee...”, Andrea's voice rings out as Melissa enters her favorite coffee shop, sounding happier than the last time the teacher saw her, and the redhead imagines that this is the result of the free time resting that the Italian woman must now have in abundance thanks to her retirement.

“What? Can't I invite my friend for coffee and ask her how her days are going without the sound of the hairdryer making her deaf?”, her voice sounds playful above all, which makes the answer she receives from Andrea come along with a laugh.

“Of course you can, silly girl!”

And so they talk for several hours, drinking coffee after coffee and hardly caring about how electric their bodies will be after ingesting so much caffeine while sharing pieces of their current lives. At first, it is strange to look at the woman in front of them and not see their own face next to that one, sharing a reflection in the mirror, but it is fine and the two women quickly get used to the new arrangement.

“Of course, you knew I would miss you,” Melissa says with a laugh, chewing gently on one of the best butter cookies she has ever eaten after taking another sip of her particularly hot coffee.

“Oh, I knew that. But, that’s not exactly what turned on the light bulb in my head,” the older woman says with an air of wisdom that only someone who has ever lived in the world enough to know too much can have, and after taking another sip of her coffee, she continued, “You see... Y/N called me a few weeks ago asking for permission to pass on the mix recipe I developed for you to another hairdresser... So, even though she didn't give me any details, I figured something had... happened.”

Melissa felt that the blood under the skin of her face was truly burning with shame.

The redhead thought about swallowing the coffee in her cup in one go, hoping it would burn her tongue with how hot the liquid was, and thus be able to escape from answering what Andrea clearly wanted to know.

She knew she was cornered and had been caught, with no intelligent way to escape. Shame and guilt mixed together, creating a bitter taste in the teacher's mouth even with the memory of the cookie so fresh on her tongue.

But, Melissa's usual response to these situations, loud and ready for a fight, doesn't happen here. Not with Andrea. Never with Andrea.

“What a big mouth... Jezz...”, is how the teacher responds, mumbling as she looks away from her friend in front of her.

“Something tells me yours is too.”

“I just... I was angry, okay?”, for the first time the redhead is honest even in the midst of murmurs, “And she’s different, and she kept talking so I... I freaked out and said what I shouldn’t have.”

Andrea remains silent, just observing the discomfort of the one in front of her with affection and understanding, and it’s this look that makes Melissa continue to speak.

“I know I crossed the line... But she did too!”, the words come out of the teacher’s mouth accusingly before she shares the whole story with Andrea, who smiles and shows surprise at every bit of her student’s encounter with Melissa shared with her, especially with the scissors.

“And what do you want to do now? I even know other hairdressers, but–”

“No! I just... I don't know exactly how I should apologize... Don't get me wrong, I don't want to apologize, but I really know I need to.”, honesty and vulnerability continue their journey between Melissa's mind and tongue as she speaks, “I stopped by her salon but they didn't even let me see her, they just gave me a paper with how many grams of each dye I need for my whole head and sent me away. But since you told me she was your pupil... Well...I thought that maybe...”

“Oh... I see.”, Andrea's voice has the most suggestive tone Melissa has heard in years, and thanks to the look the older woman gives her, full of knowledge, the redhead's cheeks blush.

“Please Andrea, it's not like that.”, the sentence escapes her lips just as her neck also begins to blush, with a speed that would be justified if Melissa were being tortured, trying to prove her innocence of a crime that the teacher definitely did not commit. But maybe she thought about it.

Or if she had enjoyed many generous sips of her coffee, even though she knew how hot it was.

“I didn’t say anything, dear. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Andrea can sense Melissa’s embarrassment, so she diverts her attention to the bigger picture, even though her knowing smile never leaves her lips, “Look… You know you’re a good cook, and you’ve gotten your fair share of favors that way. Maybe it’s worth trying your luck.”

After that, the subject goes back to where it was before, and the teacher actually tries to focus on Andrea saying that she’ll be spending next summer in Europe, but Melissa’s mind starts working in a completely different way. She silently goes over (in her memory) the most beloved dishes from the cookbook she inherited from her grandmother while listening to Andrea talk about how it would be a pleasure to have Melissa over if she decides to run away from her family for the upcoming holidays. And when they pay the bill for the coffee, Melissa knows what to do.

“And Melissa… Cut off an inch when you get the chance, my dear. It's getting a little.. uneven.”, this is the end of Andrea's farewell to the redhead after a tight hug and a sweet kiss on the forehead, but the words are said in a maternal tone, of genuine care for the teacher that makes Melissa, even without thinking, respond to the older woman with just an affirmative nod and a loving smile.

And, as she doesn't want to think about what happened when someone else suggested the same thing, at least not now, Melissa goes home with only that feeling in her chest.

When the moon took over the sky that night, Melissa was lying under the covers of her bed, staring at the ceiling of her room and completely giving up on falling asleep, while her mind went over and over her conversation with Andrea. The older woman was right, as always.

She could cook something for Y/N.

Cooking has always been her passion since she was little, and that was one of the things that made the redhead and her grandmother even closer. The fact that Melissa was very good at it only helped her cause of being her grandmother's favorite.

Most of the time the redhead cooks as a thank you, rather than an apology, but the change is small. And so, the fact that the idea of ​​cooking to apologize has not left Melissa's mind honestly shocked her.

Most of her guys are just people from all over Philadelphia who work in different places and when they hear about how good her food is, they actively choose to seek her out, willingly offering services (sometimes illicit) that the redhead might be interested in in the long run in order to have the opportunity to taste her seasoning, thus forming an alliance.

It's impossible not to take advantage of this after a few years.

Finding out and memorizing what her most skillful guys' favorite dishes are. Doubling or even tripling the size of recipes that were previously made for only ten people, making her thanks become something shared with more and more potential “guys” (thus increasing the number of guys offering their services to her) so often that the redhead has forgotten how to cook for just two people in the last twenty years.

Cooking is a gift that, unlike her job as a teacher, the redhead didn't have to choose. It was flowing through her veins.

Melissa knows that this is one of the simplest ways to get what she wants. And maybe that's what made her block this possibility until now.

There was a voice inside her head, not the part inflated by her ego for always getting what she wants thanks to how good her food is and how everyone who knows about her talent wants to appreciate it, but the insecure and confused one that whispers in a soft voice that Melissa wants to manipulate Y/N.

And for the first time in a while, she’s not bragging about doing it. In fact, she doesn’t want to do it.

For some reason that Melissa still doesn’t know but keeps scratching her insides, she wants to earn Y/N’s apology, not demand it with her food.

And it doesn’t help that it’s been a long time since Melissa apologized to anyone.

Knowing that she won’t be able to sleep anytime soon and taking advantage of the fact that tomorrow will be Sunday, the second and third-grade teacher gets out of bed and goes to the kitchen, wondering what she should cook.

It’s already the middle of the night, and she has a lot of grading to do for her students’ tests tomorrow, but Melissa knows she won’t be able to concentrate if she doesn’t do that first.

Wrapped in a dark blue robe and hoping that Jacob won’t come to check why she is up so late at night, the teacher carefully opens the refrigerator and checks the ingredients she has and the ones she bought the last time she went to the farmer’s market.

Orange juice... Half a bottle of wine... Milk... Eggs... Fresh mascarpone?

When her eyes focus on the sweet cream-colored cheese, a train of thoughts runs through her head. Melissa knows less than little about her new hairdresser – which is her fault, really – but who doesn't like a sweet treat after a long day of work?

The redhead has dark chocolate in the pantry. Coffee is always a must in a teacher's house. And her cousin gave her a cocoa powder so rich and velvety last Christmas that it could melt in her fingers.

So tiramisu it is.

It was a simple yet sophisticated dessert, full of layers of flavors and textures that the redhead hoped would be enough to convey the care and effort she had put into the dessert. And that would certainly be worth more than a few words, right?

When Melissa goes back to bed, she knows that this is a good idea, and, bathed in this certainty, the redhead can finally see herself falling asleep as she climbs back to bed.

"Perfect," is the word Melissa whispers softly to herself, as she finally gets the thing that was preventing her from sleeping off her chest.

The next morning, the redhead took a quick shower and went downstairs, deciding to organize everything she would need to grade her little eagles' work on the dining room table before taking a deep breath and heading to the kitchen.

She hadn't made homemade Savoiardi in years, always using the ones from the Italian bakery that sold her favorite cannolis. But today was different. Today, cooking would make her put her feelings in order, perhaps even directing her mind to a light that would clear her ideas for what the teacher should say when giving the dessert to Y/N the next morning.

The redhead begins to separate the ingredients she will need to bake the cookies quickly, already deciding that it would be smart to have the necessary ingredients on the kitchen counter even before she finishes making her coffee. Anticipating the company she will have when she hears the sound of lazy footsteps coming from the stairs, Melissa fills one more cup than she would if she were alone with the dark liquid and begins to grab her frying pan to put it in the stove and prepare what she's going to eat.

"Good morning Mel-Mel!", Jacob sounds as he enters the kitchen, hoarse and sleepy, leaning softly against the kitchen counter and observing the ingredients that are displayed there.

"Morning Jacob. There's coffee ready.", Melissa answers softly, pointing to the coffee cup next to hers, still full and steaming, waiting for the younger teacher.

"Thank you.", the smile Jacob gives her is initially full of gratitude, but quickly turns to curiosity when he continues, "Oh... what are you cooking?"

The teacher isn't sure what exactly this question refers to, but considering how curiously he was looking at her ingredients just a minute ago, Melissa gives Jacob two simple answers.

"Eggs, and then baking."

"That's cool. Let me finish this, you already made me coffee.", Jacob says as he gently takes the spoon from the redhead's hand, then grabs four eggs from the fridge and takes her place in front of the stove.

After he moved in with Melissa and this new and sweet idea of ​​friendship was born between the two teachers, what had previously been just a few cooking lessons here and there turned into an intensive course. But the younger teacher loved every second of it. Jacob learned so much about everyday food living with the redhead and even managed to succeed at it, making moments like that more and more natural in the Italian woman's kitchen.

Taking advantage of the softness of her replacement in front of the stove, the redhead begins to gently check if everything she needs to bake is there until Jacob's voice sounds again.

"Did you know that astronauts can bake bread in some space stations?", the man says the words with childish excitement, but still with his eyes attentive to the eggs he is stirring gently on the stove, exactly as the redhead instructed him weeks ago, "Wouldn't it be nice to eat warm bread while you watch the earth from afar?"

"First, I'm not baking bread. But yes, it does sound good to them, kid.” Melissa’s response is simple and sweet, not irritated like she usually would be when she hears silly things like that at work.

They ate breakfast in comfortable silence. Melissa knew Jacob was going on a date that Sunday, so from the moment she woke up to the moment she heard Jacob singing in the upstairs shower before he began to get properly dressed for the lunch he would share with Avi, the paramedic at the local Philadelphia fire station, everything was going according to the plan the teacher had until she started baking.

Melissa tried to focus on the methodical rhythm of her task. Crack the egg, pour the white into a jar, pour the yolks into the mixer bowl, and repeat. But her mind insisted on going back to what she had done a few weeks ago. The words she had said to Y/N were sharp and thoughtless, but what weighed on her like a stone in her stomach was the change in the hairdresser’s expression. "She may have already forgotten...", Melissa muttered to herself, trying to calm her mind. But she knew it wasn't true.

She knew Janine didn't mean to say that she was a bad teacher when Courtney was transferred to her class, not really. It was just the younger teacher's ego and naivety, both screaming and destroying Janine's judgment for having been actively chosen.

But Melissa also couldn't deny that her mouth turned bitter the moment she heard her colleague's words, even if they were whispered.

She would never say it out loud, not even to Barb, but that first night, after hearing that unexpected insult, the younger teacher's words remained too vivid in the redhead's mind when the lights in her room went out and she had to go to sleep.

Maybe I'm not a bad teacher. Maybe you are.

She really didn't deserve that.

The memory flashed through Melissa's brain so quickly that the teacher even lost her rhythm as she added more ingredients to her mixture, but she recovered enough to start beating the egg whites. However, the continuous noise of the mixer only made her remember how much she had thought about it, lying in her bed watching the sun rise through her window when she woke up before her alarm clock.

A bad teacher.

Sighing, Melissa thinks about how much it took for her to understand what was going on in the mind of the younger teacher back then, and then turns off the mixer and begins to mix its contents with the few that were missing.

As she spread the molds she would need on top of her table and, with the experience and speed of a chef, the redhead put the freshly mixed dough she had in her hands in a pastry bag and continued without even blinking as she remembered that little clash in Abbott.

When Janine got upset about being described as an inexperienced teacher in the teachers break room, the redhead hadn't even blink, and that was why she started teasing the younger woman.

Because, to the redhead, it was obvious that she was a more experienced teacher.

If Melissa, a teacher with over twenty years of experience, wasn't more experienced than a teacher with only three, then Melissa was doing something very wrong not only with her life but also with the lives of the children she taught. The fact that the two woman had different times to prepare and perfect themselves to where they were now, both in the same place (teaching Abbott Elementary as second-grade teachers at the same time), had nothing to do with Janine's qualities as a teacher.

Eventually, she managed to explain this to the younger teacher.

"Thank God.", was the muttered thought that Melissa let slip between her lips as she put her Savoiardi in the oven after sprinkling them with her mixture of sugar and cornstarch, automatically starting the timer.

Melissa forgave Janine because she knew she didn't mean it with all her heart. The younger teacher was foolish but not cruel. She couldn't be cruel even if she tried.

Melissa knew. But Melissa knew this because she knew Janine.

The problem was that... Y/N didn't know Melissa.

So what the hell was she going to do if the hairdresser didn't accept her apology?

And so it was over. Her mind was just taking away the possibility of a peaceful morning for Melissa. Because not even her grandmother's collection of favorite Italian songs would be fair competition for what was starting to form in the redhead's mind.

The redhead isn't someone who has a problem with someone she barely knows not liking her. Melissa sometimes even triumphs over this idea of ​​being disliked by people close to her, so someone she doesn't know should simply mean nothing.

When Uncle Archie says she's his least favorite in the family, it doesn't mean anything. It's an honor, really, and the words of her mother's brother would never keep her awake at night. And he is family.

Now among people she knows, Schimmenti loves the idea of ​​being seen as unreachable, distant and unsociable. But there is something about that hairdresser...

With a huff, Melissa simply grabbed a cloth within her reach and began to clean the counter of her sink, ignoring the insistent sound of the timer that finally went off, still lost in all these thoughts.

Maybe it's because the hairdresser really didn't deserve those words... Maybe it's because the poor woman was just doing her job... Maybe it's because the hairdresser is connected to Andrea... Or maybe...

When the smell of sugar began to intensify, Melissa finally realized that the time had passed. With a start, the redhead opened the oven, letting out a wave of heat so intense that it made her eyes water. The teacher hurriedly pulled one of the baking sheets out of the oven, her bare fingers touching the hot metal before she realized her mistake.

"FUCK!" she groaned loudly, backing away quickly, knocking the tray onto the counter. One of the cookies fell to the floor with a dry, crunchy sound, while her instinct forced her to hold her hand against her chest, her eyes watering.

The burning heat pinked up her palm like an immediate punishment, and defeated Melissa finally turned on the kitchen faucet, placing her red hand there.

"MELISSA??" Jacob's shrill voice sounded faster than she imagined. And more desperate too.

For a moment, the older teacher stood there, staring at the cookie on the floor and feeling the buzzing in her throbbing skin as she felt the flow of water. The pain was real, but it served only as a reflection of something greater: guilt.

“I’M FINE, JACOB!” the redhead yells back at her roommate, even though she knows that from the sounds she hears upstairs, he must be desperately putting on the first piece of clothing he can find and then coming to check on her.

By the time he appears in the kitchen, as out of breath as Janine had been running around in her early years as a teacher, the pain has already subsided. But the younger teacher doesn’t care about that, or the fact that Melissa honestly tells him that she used to get burned all the time when she was younger and that heat tolerance is in every Italian woman’s blood, as he gently rubs some burn ointment from his personal first aid kit onto her burned fingertips.

After repeating what she imagines to be a thousand times that she is fine and perfectly capable of being alone, Jacob finally leaves her alone and goes on his date, giving Melissa the space she needs to sit at the kitchen table. She doesn't want to sound insane, but the savoiardi, perfectly shaped but with some slightly over-brown, seemed to judge her silently.

With a fork and using her non-dominant hand, Melissa tried to transfer all the cookies she baked to a covered container as soon as they cooled and went to her living room.

Finishing the corrections of her students' tests with her non-dominant hand takes longer than she imagines, taking up most of her morning and afternoon. But at least she is back in the kitchen when Jacob returns from his meeting, with flushed cheeks, swollen lips, a sweet smile and lost eyes as he asks her if her fingers still hurt.

She softly denies it, with a smile on her face and thankful for Jacob's concern written in his eyes. He understands even the words she doesn't say, and she is also thankful for that as she grates some of the dark chocolate she will need to finish her recipe the next day and puts it in a covered container.

On Monday morning, Melissa gets up ready early.

If asked, she would say that she set her alarm to wake her an hour and a half earlier, but the reality is that her nerves did the job without the help of technology.

Calmly, Melissa took the mascarpone from her refrigerator and began to make the cream that would bring the entire recipe to life. She beats the egg whites with the egg yolk, and uses the mixer to first mix the sugar, then the mascarpone and finally the carefully beaten egg whites.

When everything was ready, the redhead took a deep breath and, next to the precious dish she had chosen, arranged on her counter the Savoiardi cookies made the day before, the grated chocolate, the mascarpone cream and began to assemble the dessert. She dipped the cookies in a little room temperature coffee, one by one, taking care to make sure they were just the right amount of wet so that she could arrange them on the bottom of that precious glass dish, creating an even base and trying to ignore how much she wished the hairdresser could see the care she put into it.

When Jacob finally came downstairs, she was already spreading the fourth layer of the mascarpone cream, smoothing it with a spatula to ensure that each part of the dessert was perfect. When she finished, the redhead noticed that it was exactly ten minutes before the time she and the younger teacher left the house every day, so the redhead took her time sprinkling cocoa powder on top delicately, as if she were drawing an invisible message to Y/N.

Forgive me. I'm sorry.

Melissa wasn't sure.

But what she knows for sure is that Jacob is practically melting with curiosity in his passenger seat as he holds the dessert in his lap.

The Italian woman wanted to rest the tray on her back seat, as she always does when she needs to take something important to school. But he asks so genuinely to carry it that Melissa doesn't have the heart to tell him to take the bus that day. Especially after his ointment worked wonders by almost completely healing the burn on her hand.

At least not inside the car, since she takes the tray from the younger teacher's hand and is the one responsible for putting it in the refrigerator in the teacher's break room.

"Oh. This is a...”, Janine's voice is uncertain as she inspects the tray that prevents her from storing her sandwich on the common refrigerator shelf, already stretching her fingers to get a better look at what it was.

“It's mine. Do you have a problem with it?”, Melissa says rudely just so that there are no additional questions, but, as usual, Janine doesn't get the hint.

“That's beautiful. But can I—”, Janine starts again only to be interrupted.

“It's not yours. So don't touch it.”

After that, a heavy silence takes over the break room for a few moments.

“She spent the whole day yesterday making it... and she even got burned and then she was putting it together this morning.”, the youngest man in the room mumbles to his friend, not as quietly as he imagines he did since everyone in the room hears Jacob's words even with the news on the television.

“Did she give you a piece?” Janine mumbles back to Jacob, now curious. He shakes his head at the younger woman, purposely leaving out the fact that Melissa left a fair amount of the cream she used for that tiramisu in a small bowl, next to some of the homemade cookies just for him this morning. And that’s why Jacob gets a slap on the arm from the redhead along with an irritated look as he passes her on his way to the coffee maker to refill the dark liquid in his cup. Finally, intrigued by the younger man’s groan of pain, Barbara looks at the refrigerator that Janine still has open, trying unsuccessfully to put her lunch inside, and sees the reason for everyone’s commotion. A big tiramisu. But she also sees something that no one else does.

Something that cannot be questioned is that, out of everyone there, Barbara knows Melissa like no one else and is able to figure her out without even trying. And, with a small look at the glass dish in question, she had already figured her friend out.

That was one of a set of five glass dishes that Barbara Howard had heard about and only seen from a distance. Before her third year of marriage, the redhead's ex-mother-in-law, who was battling lung cancer although she still refused to give up smoking, distributed her most precious possessions to her family. And among them was that set that had been desired by all the women in Joe's family for many years.

As expected, four of the dishes were divided among Mary Alice's four daughters, but, surprising the redhead in a way she never imagined possible, Melissa was given the last one of the set, much to the despair of Joe's older brother's wife. Melissa's ex-husband's mother told the teacher that her talent for cooking would give a better destination for the last piece, unlike the idiotic fight that the sisters would probably start over the unequal number of the set.

Even after the divorce, the heartwarming gift was never claimed by Joe.

So Barbara knew that the tiramisu in question, taking up a huge space in the refrigerator of the teachers' break room on the first floor of Abbott Elementary, was not like any other.

"Girlfriend?" Barbara says softly to get the redhead's attention, speaking again only when Melissa's green eyes are looking directly into her dark ones, "Don't get involved in anything dangerous, please."

"I won't..." Melissa's voice no longer has the bite it had when she spoke to the other teachers, "I swear! It's just... an apology."

"For Joe?", the first-grade teacher knows she might be pushing, but she can't help but ask.

"No!", it's almost a scream, the redhead's tone of voice sounds scared and indignant, but it calms the teacher next to her.

And that, for now, is enough.

At the end of the day, with the tiramisu neatly packed and in her passenger seat, Melissa got into her car and drove to the salon where Y/N worked. The teacher's heart was beating fast as she parked and walked to the entrance, holding the dessert tightly even though her hands were sweaty. As she entered, the sound of scissors and the buzz of conversation seemed to fade in her mind. Her eyes searched for Y/N, who was distracted by a client and she didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The last time she tried to talk to the hairdresser, Melissa gave her name right at the entrance and the receptionist automatically started searching through her notes for the note addressed to her, but now the redhead knew better.

"My name is not important. Just say that someone really wants to talk to her."

"Y/N!" the receptionist shouts the hairdresser's name loudly, using her vocal cords without any remorse, "There's a redhead who wants to talk to you."

“Is she hot?”, the sound of Y/N’s voice rings out from a distance to Melissa amidst a laugh, at the same time that her rhythmic footsteps echo on the floor of the salon, as if the hairdresser wasn’t exactly running, but in a kind of hurry and curiosity to know what was waiting for her at the reception.

When the Brazilian woman turns the glass corridor and finally appears in front of the redhead, with a soft smile on her face, Melissa can’t help but think that Y/N is even more beautiful than the first time she saw her.

But that smile doesn’t last long because, the moment the hairdresser’s eyes meet Melissa’s green ones, Y/N’s soft face turns into a frown as she asks harshly:

“Oh. You. What do you want?”

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Hiya 👋👋👋 can you do current James (I’m such a slut for him) x younger reader, where she mockingly calls him old man. She means no harm just joke but he is offended so in the evening he puts her into doggy and rails her till morning? Pretty please with the daddy kink and dirty talk???

A/n: I lost motivation for this at so many points but just kept writing and it's kinda short it was a good idea and I tried writing it so many times I NEED HIM TO FUCKING BREED ME PLEASE sorry that was freaky

Warnings: Smut, degrading, brat taming, daddy kink, spanking, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

THE TITTIES

There was a bathroom connected to yours and James's shared bedroom, it was big and fancy with all the finishing touches. Two sinks right next to each other, one for you and the other belonged to James.

James was already in their brushing his teeth, still in his day clothes. You came in, wearing only a shirt of his that covered you well enough.

You were already tired, you hadn't done much all day but it was getting late, you liked staying up and waiting for James to get home, eating together and then doing whatever.

James held up better than you with long days, you missed being a teenager and staying up until four. You were lucky to make it to one now.

James eyed you through the mirror as you stood beside him, hand moving slow as you began brushing your teeth. He chuckled softly and pulled his toothbrush out briefly to speak. "Tired?" He asked, mouth full. You gave a small nod and leaned your head on his shoulder.

Obviously this wasn't the first time you brushed your teeth with him, this wasn't your first time you heard him gagging on his toothbrush. You giggled softly and he glanced down at you, giving you a gentle nudge. "What's so funny?"

You shook your head and pulled away from him, letting him spit in the sink. "You do that thing." You said through garbles.

He raised a brow at you cartoonishly, his stupid little faces always made you smile. "What thing?"

"The dad thing." You said, spitting in your sink. "Where you, like, choke on your toothbrush every few seconds." He blinked at you, hating himself for not realizing sooner.

"That's terrible." He muttered, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He continued brushing his teeth and paused when he made the noise again, his shoulders bouncing as he silently chuckled at himself.

It got worse every time, he did his best to not do it but it wasn't intentional in the first place so he just kept laughing and so did you until you finally managed to finish brushing your teeth and rinse your mouth.

"I hate you." James mumbled, shaking his head at you. "Had to point it out, did you?" You nodded smiling widely as he wrapped himself around you, resting his head on your shoulder while walking back to the bedroom.

"You're getting old." You teased.

He stopped immediately in his tracks, stopping you with him. "Old?" He asked, turning you to face him.

You chuckled and nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You're gagging on your toothbrush, James." You said, still giggling. "And you make dad noises when you stand up or sit down... you're an old man."

He stared down at you, eyes flickering over your face almost offendedly. "Old man my ass." He huffed, pulling away from you and heading to the closet to get some clothes for the night.

You watched him go, raising a brow at him but shrugging it off as nothing and crawling into bed. You got all nice and cozy and watched as James stared into the mass of clothes, his hands on his hips, thinking about something.

He pulled his shirt off and you whistled, making him look at you with a less than amused expression. "What? Can't compliment my old man?"

James grimaced and looked back to the closet. "That makes me sound like your dad."

You chewed your cheek, he wasn't wrong. "Fine, I'll just call you my silver fox~" He scoffed, clearly upset. “Oh, come on, it’s not that deep.” You groaned.

“Somethings gonna be fucking deep soon.” He barked, shooting a glare at you. You paused, knowing if you pressed further he’d punish you… but you wanted to be punished.

“Not too fast, now, don’t want to pull a muscle.” In an instant he was on you, taking your legs in his hands and folding you in half. You loved when he manhandled you, forcing you into positions that strained you just a little but it made everything feel so much better. Not to mention how fucking hot he looked on top of you, tattoos and muscles, the lustful glare in his eyes.

You were already so wet and ready for him.

His lips travelled down your neck, biting and sucking on the sensitive skin. James pulled away a moment and look down at you before pulling away completely.

“Take them off.” He ordered, gesturing to his jeans. You sat up and reached for the zipper but he smacked your hand away. “With your teeth, you wanna act like a bitch I’ll treat you like one.”

A new wave of arousal washed over you and adjusted, getting on your hands and knees to pull the zipper down with your teeth. It was hard but you managed, as soon as they were open James grabbed the back of your head and pushed you into his pubes, forcing you to inhale him, which you did happily.

You looked up at him with lust filled eyes, begging for more. James stared down at you for a minute before letting go of your hair. "Turn around." He ordered.

You did just as he asked, spreading your legs and burying your face in a pillow, knowing the position he was trying to get you into. James's hand found your ass, rubbing it and spreading your plush cheeks. "So wet already, and I haven't even done anything yet." He mused, pushing his jeans down along with his boxers and kicking them off the bed.

You felt his already leaking tip rub against your wet folds, gathering your juices to use as lube so he could fuck you. Without warning he pushed into you, bottoming out with a low groan while you moaned under him.

While he was mad and wanted to punish you he had mercy and gave you a second to adjust to his girth. "Fucking bitch." He muttered, holding your hips, one hand rubbing circles into your skin. "Look where insults got you, bent over and begging for dick, but that's where you always end up, isn't it?" He raised the hand that was rubbing you and it came down hard on your ass. "Answer me, slut!"

"Yes! Love it here, love being daddy's little cocksleeve!" You moaned, wiggling your hips and pushing back against him.

James let out a low chuckled and leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "What an obedient little thing you are, why can't you be good all the time? Just have to go an be a brat, don't you?" He asked, his hand coming down again, making your ass sting.

"M'sorry, daddy." You didn't really mean it, you loved being a brat and you loved being punished, and of course James knew this.

"Liar." He muttered, hips snapping into yours. It started harsh but slow, gradually picking up the pace until he found a rhythm he liked, one that had you crying and begging for him to slow down, your body bouncing up and down on the mattress with each thrust.

Your head was sideways on the pillow so you could breathe and look back at James, the dark glint in his eyes as he watched you sucking him in for more, how eager your body was for him.

"Say it again." He demanded. "Apologize, and do it right this time."

You did your best to speak up between moans and whines. "I-m'sorry, daddy, m'so- ngh-! Fuck-ing sorry, m'sorry I called you old." James thought for a moment before deciding he didn't need any more apologies from you, you were pretty enough right here in front of him, giving in to his ever will, it wasn't needed.

His hand moved up from your hip to your back, pressing down on it and forcing you to arch into the mattress. It gave him the chance to adjust his position, forcing his dick impossibly deeper. Your eyes rolled back, already feeling yourself getting closer.

"Be a good slut and cum for daddy." He encouraged. You didn't fully trust it, not that you had a choice, his thrusts had you seeing stars, your gut tightening. He edged you for hours on end when he was pissy, but was never opposed to a little overstimulation. Maybe a lot.

It didn't take long for you get pushed over the edge, moaning out for him as you came. James didn't stop, he didn't slow, he kept the same mind numbing rhythm while you crumbled under him.

You looked back at him and saw a need in his eyes, a yearning. "Calls me an old man and... what did you expect I'd do?" He asked, smacking your ass again. "Gonna show you how an old man fucks you stupid, not gonna be walking for a month." He said through gritted teeth, emphasizing his words with each thrust.

[fangdokja]

Not really a request, but just a thought to share with you! (If that’s alright?)

Imagine Yandere! Demon King having to resort to “granting” his darling immortality, having realized that her lifespan was impeccably fleeting compared to his and demonkind. And seeing how unruly, ferocious, and self-reliant she was throughout their entire time together (or more like her captivity), he went through the trouble of binding her to him in body and soul by turning her into a succubus.

With this, she would be forced to rely on him during “feeding hours”, leaving her utterly helpless as she refuses to “feed” on other people.

Not only would this bring her closer to him, but also the fact that she’s under his dominion now as a demoness.

— Random Anon

WARNING: Semi-formal rambling and formatting. Includes Library Recommendations (nsfw + sfw).

If you guys want Reader lore? (low-key surprised people asking for Reader lore in some series) Well... I already have it all prepared. It's coming next week. Not all of Reader lore yet, but enough to tell you that Reader is not as helpless against even the Yandere! Love Interests, as one might believe:

We have four new characters coming up. And these guys are part of the top tier powerhouses, even compared to Yandere! Demon King. Most likely stronger actually. Actually maybe the strongest four man lineup in the entire series. And personally, I like these guys best. Though, unsure if I'll give them more screentime than one chapter. There's reason for that, but we'll see.

I also have four more new characters alongside these guys, but I haven't finished writing for them as of the moment.

WHY IS THIS SERIES SO POPULAR. adnljdsddsgawfuishas. Is it really 'cause it's otome isekai???? or something else hahaha. I was literally just writing about myself 😭 I DID NOT MEAN TO MAKE THIS INTO AN ACTUAL SERIES.

OK, now onto the ASK + Library Recommendations (sfw + nsfw).

Nice to meet you, Random Anon :)) I'm glad you're comfortable enough to speak with me about your thoughts. Don't worry, it's fine. I'm glad you're willing and open to share ideas or thought dumps.

Also, out of topic, but I like how you guys are picking "names" and not just emojis haha. Actually, for me, I prefer you guys picking actual names of your choosing. I don't want to constrain the name picking, so feel free to name yourselves anything, when asking anonymously. It'll also help me identify you better. Just make sure it aligns with the blog RULES and Tumblr guidelines.

Ok, this is a thought. But, even in dark humor content and especially in world building. Logic and reality is a must here. I heavily dislike making non-canon lore, it's basically me writing fanfiction on my own work. I can do it, but I heavily prefer canon works only. It's also in my RULES. I will always prefer transparency and honesty, so I will be honest in my answer here. I am aware what you gave is a thought dump and an imagine-scenario, so not necessarily canon. Just sharing thoughts. But, I will expand on the reality of who Reader is.

Reader doesn't just have basic intelligence, nor a dead inside personality when it comes to romance. Canonically speaking, Reader can in fact take on the love interests. So, why does Reader rely on wit, the romance system, and no-powers-mode?

Well, that will come in the next extension of the series. Yes, I'm officially making these into a Headcanons Series. This one:

Yandere! Otome Game

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! Crown Prince, Archduke, Supreme Mage, Demon King, War Hero, Master Thief, Enemy Spy, Demon Assassin

Drabbles

How do you escape a yandere harem? Asking for a very distressed friend (me).

How to Turn ‘Till Death Do Us Part’ Into a Very Literal Situation.

"Romance is a garbage genre, but if I have to play, I might as well do it on easy mode."

The love interests were bad. The backup plans are worse.

One of them wants to marry you. The other wants to make sure he never does.

Headcanons 1 : How to Survive a Reverse Harem (You Don’t) (General)

I hate it here.

Why am I saying this? Because based on the timeline of the current story with Reader officially escaping and in hiding. It's practically an impossibility for any of the Yandere! Love Interests to try capturing and doing whatever they want with Reader. Yes, impossible.

And even if there was a slim chance of capture even before the escape. Let me tell you know.

No. It's impossible.

Why am I so sure? Well, you'll know why once the new characters come out.

In actuality, all my Reader characters have lore. I just don't give it away so freely, compared to yandere lore. Why? Well, I focus mostly on yandere content for one. The other is because all my Readers are meant to have enigmatic backgrounds. No, I did not just make this because I want you all to feel more in-depth self-insert or something.

The Reader characters have actual lore in fact, all of the characters I make do. I just don't say it outright, because spoilers obviously.

I wouldn't be a psychological horror-thriller author, if I gave things away so easily. I decided to give some crumbs because of the effort Random Anon put into this message. I want you to know, Random Anon, that I appreciate you having the courage to do this, being comfortable with me, and giving me a message of substance. So, thank you.

And, it's why I'm taking this seriously, even if it may disagree with yours or others' thoughts. These crumbs are canon information on the series and characters.

Ok, I rambled a lot. But, to clarify the following:

It's impossible for Yandere! Demon King to turn Reader into a demoness. Considering it's still very early into the series, and unlike my novellas, this is still a lighthearted dark humor series. As of the moment, there will be no permanent and explicit horror factors yet. Why? Characters are still being introduced. Did you really think I'd stop at eight? haha.

Anyways. Yes, later on, it can be changed. But not now.

The Veteran Readers and those who have read my novellas, should know how I write. Take a dip and see how I actually write my horror content. Like this one, newly uploaded as well. It's not even novella length, it's also a headcanons series, if that's what you're used to:

Yandere! Author

Headcanons 1 : Fate’s Final Draft (General)

He’s the hero in his own story… and you’re his latest toy.

🔞"You like happy endings? Too bad. I don’t write those."

I recommend reading Part 2, if you want to see how I write my actual horror content.

Anyways. I'm saying this now. If you honestly think I'll write vanilla yandere content, then I'm sorry, I don't. What I mean is that ALL the Yandere! Love Interests are still part of my yandere collection. Hence, they'll do way more than just controlled feeding and monitoring lifestyles. Especially the demon race, for example.

Or, rather, the stronger they are, the more dangerous they become.

These are the kind of yanderes I generally write: Dom + Top + Older + Sadistic + Red / Black Flag Yanderes

Nor do I hold back in writing horror content.

What you gave is basically the barebones part of yandere content. Trust me when I say, Yandere! Demon King is going to do a lot worse than just isolate and force feed you. In fact, I would even say, he would NOT turn Reader into a demoness. Why? Well, let's just say, he's not as kind and collected as he seems. And I'm not talking about him simply being an emotional mess.

Would Yandere! Demon King grant Reader immortality. No, he wouldn't. Not only is it illogical for him in his eyes, but he has better plans than simply turning Reader into a doll or servant.

Not to mention, yeah, I mentioned Yandere! Demon King can be emotionally unstable. But, I don't mean in simply losing his cool and patience; thus losing his sense of rationality, then acting reckless and stupid. Or losing himself in rage and emotional turmoil. It's something better.

Also, for non-human races. Here, to give you New Readers an idea on how I write them. Read the Sukuna part if you want to know:

Novella 1 : Dominate Me, Daddy. (Brat Tamer)

🔞Will you scream? Or will you beg? (Bakugo Katsuki, Yoichi Isagi, Ryōmen Sukuna, Rex Lapis, Sunday)

I know some of you New Readers came here for dark humor, and lighthearted comedy. But. Let me tell you now, once I write actual "true yandere" content. Well, it's not for the faint of heart.

I only made the dark humor content because I was mindblocked on horror content. It's basically idea generation to me, so I can exercise my brain for erotic horror.

The true yanderes I make are hard doms + top + older + unapologetic + sadistic + does not need darling's validation + will hurt the darling + may kill the darling + truly confident in themselves.

They do not care nor need the darling's permission, validation, feelings, etc. to take what they want. They're not weaklings like that. As individuals, they are strong in their own right. Including mentality.

Yes, this also includes the yanderes in the drabbles.

Do you want to know the ONLY yanderes that won't physically hurt you? It's these guys:

Yandere! Royal Guards

Drabbles

Royal Duties: looking pretty, sitting still, watching your guards destroy the kingdom.

You got isekai’d. Now three murder machines think your blank stares are divine wisdom.

And, that's because they're engineered to protect you, not harm you. These yanderes are the only canon yanderes that will never hurt you physically. They're the ones who will protect you with their lives. Aside from them? Nothing. No one. Every single yandere in my library will hurt and may kill you. Yes. Even if they may not seem like it, even if it's dark humor content, even if they look ridiculous and dramatic.

And you know the good thing about being a psychological horror-thriller author?

No one can tell what happens next.

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams. ♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Disclaimer. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution—these tales explore obsession, madness, and devotion in their rawest forms.

[joeyalohadream]

Happy Valentine's Day - Here's a Snippet from a WIP instead of a box of chocolates ❤️

I'm spending my day today with my kitty, and with my Coolerverse Buckies....

It's been a while sense I've shared anything from part three, but I figured it was time seeing as I spent today heavily editing what I'd already had written and then actually writing over 2k new words. I'm optimistic I'll have it finished and published before the end of February. 💕

So here's a snippet from relatively early in Part 3 as my Valentine to you, 'Coolerverse' readers! (Putting some below a cut because their is an allusion (not graphic, it's still me) to possible sa)

----

The sun has almost set and he’s just noticing smoke on the horizon in the distance when Gale stumbles next to him.

He’s been staying close enough that their arms brush while they walk. They started out close to the front of the column, but they’ve drifted back since they left the town. Bucky has tried to convince himself that it was both of their dwindling energy that caused them to slow, but he knows that he’s been matching Gale’s pace since they started.

Now, Gale stumbles and Bucky grabs his sleeve just as one of his knees hit to ground. His heart climbs up into throat when the other man doesn’t immediately raise himself back up.

The men skirt around them, avoiding looking at Gale and Bucky can’t help but wish he hadn’t lost sight of their boys in the sea of bodies when they’d started falling back.

“Gale?” Bucky bends at the waist, gets a hand under Gale’s armpit. “Come on, up you get.”

He tugs and releases a breath when Gale’s body follows his instructions, getting himself to standing with a grunt of effort and a pained look stealing across his features.

“Sorry,” Gale says low, breathe crystalizing in the space between them. “Tripped.”

Bucky grimaces, skeptical of the explanation but doesn’t press.

“Move!” The loud voice startles them both and Bucky grunts when a rough hand shoves at his back, pushing him forward. The motion sends him stumbling away from Gale. He catches himself and turns, panicked, not willing to let him get lost in the gaggle of a thousand men.

But Gale’s still right there. Only the guard that had pushed Bucky has a hand fisted in the front of Gale’s coat and he’s in his face and Bucky sees red. It takes two steps to get back to them and one more to shove himself between the two men. He doesn’t look at the guard, just tugs Gale with him and starts moving forward.

“Better stay off your knees, Major,” the heavily accented voice, ugly words spit in broken English raise the hairs on the back of Bucky’s neck and his muscles tighten with the urge to hurt someone.

“Don’t.”

Gale’s quiet voice and his trembling hand grasping his sleeve brings him back to reality and he knows he can’t do a damn thing. Not with the krauts as trigger happy as they are. But he turns the words over and over in his mind and thinks his teeth might crack with how tight he’s clenching his jaw.

“That was the same guard from the line-up,” he grits out. “The one from the cooler?”

Silence greets him and he turns his head to look at Gale, who is stubbornly refusing to meet his eyes.

“Buck,” he pushes. “Give me something here.”

“Just leave it, Bucky,” Gale finally answers, shaking his head.

“I can’t,” Bucky admits. He feels like he’s going to be sick all of a sudden as the implication of the words turn his stomach into a knotted mess. Now isn’t the time for this. But he can’t even breathe properly with these thoughts in his head. “Did he-”

“No.” Gale finally turns his face enough to glare at him. “Whatever you’re thinking. No.”

Bucky swallows, feels his eyes sting from more than the wind as his mind rolls over images that he wants to vanquish from existence. Too terrible to imagine. Gale must see something in his eyes because his glare falls away and his features soften.

“John, I swear,” he says. “If what you’re thinking happened had happened, I wouldn’t be here. ‘Cause I’d have killed him. And then they would’ve killed me.”

The words don’t make him feel better. They just conjure another horrible, unfathomable image that he tries to physically shake out of his mind. He believes him. But something happened. Something with this guard. Something that Gale doesn’t want to talk about.

“What can I do?” He finds himself asking, feeling useless as he watches Gale concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. Tired blue eyes find his and Bucky watches him shrug.

“No matter what he says,” Gale says, looking over his shoulder. Bucky follows his gaze and sees the guard keeping pace with them on the edge of the column. Watching Gale. “Don’t do anything to get yourself killed. He likes to talk.”

Bucky flexes his fingers and glares ahead, jaw working. Not understanding but wanting to.

“Promise me, John.”

“Sure, Buck.”

“John.” Gale sounds tired, frustrated. Bucky feels the same way.  “I learned to drown him out in there. You gotta do the same.”

He thinks of Gale hiding himself against Bucky’s chest, making himself small every night when the krauts were talking outside their window before they slammed the shutters closed. Remembers the flinching, the tightly coiled muscles, the trembling he’d feel when the accented voices grew in volume, shouts drifting through the walls of their hut.

Their eyes meet and they can read each other plan as day.

Even if he never touched him, that man hurt Gale. Scares him still.

And he can tell Gale see’s the truth in Bucky’s eyes, shining back at him. He won’t let him hurt him again. No matter what.