#my heart is warm every time I see him happy and smiling

[itelya]

synopsis: valentines day with your boyfriend/husband.

character [separate]: Nanami Kento x reader, Gojo Satoru x reader, Suguru Geto x reader, Toji Fushiguro x reader, Sukuna Ryomen x reader, soo cute! Choso Kamo x reader, Megumi Fushiguro x reader, Yuji Itadori x reader (fem!)

warning: love and short srry 💗… don't be mad at me for what i did for Toji😓

words: 2690.

Kento N.

Nanami wasn’t really the type to celebrate Valentine’s Day. To him, this day was a “commercial holiday,” an artificial opportunity to prove his love. He believed that love was built on a daily basis, in simple gestures and small attentions. So, you thought you would spend a quiet evening, like every year.

But when you returned home that night, you were surprised. The house was enveloped in a soft and warm atmosphere: candles lit everywhere, soft lighting, a nicely set table with elegant plates and a bouquet of flowers. Dinner was ready, a dish that Nanami had carefully prepared himself, accompanied by your favorite wine.

“It’s not much,” he said as he joined you in the room, a discreet smile on his lips. “But I thought it would be nice to spend some time together.”

You looked at him, touched by the attention he had put into this dinner. This gesture means much more to you than anything else. You spent a quiet evening, full of laughter, tender conversations and shared silences, as if this dinner was a simple and sincere way of saying "I love you".

When dessert was served, he placed his hand on yours, his gaze tender but discreet. "I know Valentine's Day doesn't mean much to us, but I wanted to show you how much you mean to me," he said softly. "With this moment together. Because with you, every day is a bit like Valentine's Day."

Moved, you smiled at him, squeezing his hand in yours. After a few seconds of comfortable silence, you got up to clear the table. Then, as you found yourself upstairs, Nanami turned to you with a slight smile. "Happy Valentine's Day, my love," he whispered, before kissing you softly.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Ken,” you replied, touched by the sincerity of his words more than any gesture. And in that simplicity, you felt more loved than ever.

Gojo S.

The sun is barely rising when Gojo arrives at your door, a mischievous smile on his face. Before you can even react, he grabs your hand and whisks you away on a memorable day, where every minute seems more absurd than the last.

First stop: a private helicopter, a flight over Tokyo. The wind whips your face as you fly over the city illuminated by the first rays of the sun. You hold on to the helm, your heart pounding, a mixture of pleasure and terror.

Gojo, for his part, laughs as he sees you hanging on, his face like a permanent challenge. “It’s nothing, just relax!” he assures you, but you know he loves seeing you out of your comfort zone.

The highlight of the show comes when he drags you into an impromptu photo shoot. In the middle of the street, under the neon lights and curious glances of passersby, Gojo strikes ridiculous poses while making you laugh. Then, without warning, he takes a picture of you up close, capturing the moment when you let yourself go into a genuine smile.

Finally, Gojo takes you to the roof of a skyscraper, the breathtaking view of the city all around you, illuminated by sparkling fairy lights. The cool wind makes you shiver, but he keeps you close to him, a smirk on his face.

“So?” he asks, leaning a little closer to you, his mischievous eyes scrutinizing you with an almost childish amusement. “What was the best part of the day?”

You look at him, rolling your eyes as you smile. You know he’s expecting an extravagant answer. So, you lean down and kiss him briefly, just enough to surprise him.

“I’ll say.. everything was great, but the helicopter ride… I thought I was going to throw up. Never again please.”

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head, and pulls you into his arms. “It’s all you,” he says, pulling you closer, before catching your lips in a slow but passionate kiss. Time seems to stop for a moment, the sounds of the distant city drowned out by the intensity of his kiss.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” he whispers against your lips, a satisfied smile on his face. He holds you tighter in his arms, and you let yourself go with the magic of the moment.

Geto S.

The night is quiet on this Valentine’s night, and the atmosphere in your apartment is softer than usual. The wind blowing lightly against the windows lets you hear a distant murmur of the couples outside.

Geto comes home with your spare keys and silently places a small box of chocolates in your hands, before settling down next to you on the couch.

You turn your gaze to him. He says nothing, his eyes drowned in a discreet embarrassment, as if each word he was going to say was weighed carefully.

He takes a moment to look at the box in your hands before slowly turning it away, a slight smile growing at the corner of his lips. “I’m not really good at this kind of thing,” he murmurs. He almost seems to hesitate, embarrassed by the simplicity of the gesture, but nevertheless, his eyes shine with a touching sincerity.

His fingers slide almost imperceptibly on your skin, a silent caress. A small smile forms on his face, a smile that seems to come straight from a bygone era, where he was still able to believe in a quiet love, without pain or torment.

“You know… if we were somewhere else, in another life,” he begins, his voice soft but marked by an indecipherable depth, “I think I would have wanted to take you away from here.” He lets out a soft sigh, as if this impossible wish came from another reality.

He takes a short breath, then, with an almost imperceptible gesture, he hands you the rose he has placed next to him. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, almost in a low voice, as if there is more to those words than what they seem to be. You smile at him tenderly and lean towards him, then kiss him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day too, Geto.”

Toji F.

If you bet on the fact that Toji Fushiguro would have forgotten that it’s Valentine’s Day. And honestly, it wouldn’t even be a surprise. This guy is the type to disappear for days, come back like a shadow without warning even though he’s your boyfriend. Then drag you to your bed with a smirk and leave like nothing happened but you still love him like an idiot.

So a commercial holiday? Spending money? Might as well forget it. That’s why, when he hands you a small paper bag, you blink in surprise.

“Here.”

“…What?”

He sighs, already looking annoyed. “Tch. Just take it.” You grab the package warily and look inside. A frown. “…Toji. It’s instant noodles.”

“And?” He smiles like there’s no problem and raises an eyebrow at your surprised expression. “You’re offering me… noodles?”

“You like them, right?” He raises an eyebrow, as if it’s obvious. You stand there, between incomprehension and amusement, before bursting out laughing. “Are you serious, Toji?”

“Listen, would you have preferred that I blow my money on useless crap? A heart-shaped necklace, maybe?” He snickers, crossing his arms. “I know you. I know you always forget to buy more when you run out. So yeah, it’s a gift. Take it and shut up.”

You shake your head, still laughing, and grab the collar of his jacket to pull him towards you. “You really are an idiot, Toji.”

“And you’re still here, stupid lover,” he replies, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, a smile playing on the corner of his lips. Ultimately, it suits you. Because Toji, even with his questionable ways, thinks of you in his own way. And deep down, that’s all that matters.

Sukuna R.

Valentine’s Day, you didn’t expect it. As Sukuna’s wife, you were used to displays of power rather than tender gestures. But on this day, something seemed different. As you prepared yourself in your chambers, you felt a familial presence slip into the room without making a sound.

Sukuna, in all his majesty, looked at you with a different glow than usual. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my queen,” he said in a deep voice, his imposing royal posture even more respectful, but there was an unusual softness in his words.

He approached you, an almost imperceptible kiss on his lips, and in his hands, a shiny object: a necklace adorned with precious stones the color of his rare eyes and a secret inscription.

The gesture surprised you, more than you would have imagined. The king of curses offering a gift, and yet, the intention behind it was clear. This necklace wasn’t just a gift; it was a token of his possession, but in a subtle way. He holds it out in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror of your dressing table, as if to make sure you like this necklace.

“This necklace is a sign,” he murmured as he brushed his fingers over your neck, gently sliding the jewel around you. “A sign that you are mine. No one else can ever claim you.” Okay baby?"

A shadow of a smile appeared on his face, but he didn't seem to want to let go of his gaze, as if he was trying to make sure that you understood the depth of his words. Then he closed the clasp of the necklace.

His hands slowly slid into your hair, your eyes meeting his. He was still this ruthless king, but today, there was something more tender, a form of sincere love that seemed rare to you.

"Thank you so much Suku, it's so beautiful.. Happy Valentine's Day, my love," you said, you smiled at him tenderly. He then leaned down, his lips gently brushing your ear, the contact light but loaded with that imposing presence that characterized him.

While being possessive, he wasn't trying to smother you, but to remind you that, for him, you were everything to him. He's just crazy in love.

Choso K.

You see the surprise in Choso’s eyes as you hand him the carefully prepared box of chocolates. He seems both surprised and a little hesitant. “Is this… for me?” He looks at you, as if the very idea of ​​receiving something is a novelty.

You nod, a shy smile on your lips. “Yeah, for you. It’s… it’s for Valentine’s Day.” You feel a little nervous, but he makes you feel like it matters, that your gesture didn’t go unnoticed.

He takes a heart-shaped chocolate and brings it to his lips, his eyes closed for a moment, savoring the sweetness of the chocolate. Then, after a few seconds, he looks at you with a soft smile, almost a little embarrassed.

“It’s sweet… like you,” he says, and his cheeks blush slightly.

You laugh softly, feeling your cheeks blush. “It’s just chocolate, Choso.” But you can see in his eyes that it’s not that easy for him. It’s maybe the first time he’s received something like this, such a sincere, simple gesture, but so precious to him.

Then, in a shy burst, he leans towards you and places a kiss on your cheek, his warmth melting you. “Thank you,” he murmurs, almost in a breath. “Really.”

You look at him, a smile that doesn’t leave your lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Choso. I’m glad to have you as a boyfriend.” He stays there for a moment, his eyes locked on yours, before answering with a sincerity that touches you deeply:

“Me too. Really.” His hands gently rest on your shoulders, as if to pull you a little closer to him. “I’ve never had a gift. It’s- it’s a little strange, but it makes me… feel good.”

You feel yourself melting under his words, his honesty and his sweetness. It’s everything he’s ever wanted, but never had the chance to experience. And you’re here to give him what he’s always deserved.

“You don’t have to say that, you know,” you whisper, gently caressing his hand. “I’m doing it because you deserve it, Choso.” He leans down again, this time to kiss you softly on the lips, a kiss that’s tender and full of promise. “Thanks for the chocolates, and happy Valentine’s Day, baby.”

Megumi F.

Megumi has never been one to celebrate Valentine's Day. He finds it commercial, cliché... But when he sees the small box of chocolates that you hand him, your cheeks a little red, he can't help but feel touched. He takes the box with a slight sigh, but his gaze betrays his emotion.

"You didn't have to..." he murmurs, avoiding your gaze. However, he opens the box and takes a chocolate, the sweet taste contrasting with the heat that begins to rise to his cheeks.

"It's just chocolate, Megumi. Don't be so red." you answer, laughing softly. He just looks away and doesn't answer.

Then he looks at you for a moment before looking away, and after a moment of hesitation, he slips his hand into his coat pocket and hands you a small package. "Here... it's not much, but... Happy Valentine's Day."

When you open it, you discover a lucky charm in the shape of your pet almost with small accessories. You look up at him, surprised. "You say it's commercial, but did you still think to buy me something?"

Megumi crosses his arms, looking away. "Shut up," he whispers, red rising to his ears.

You can't help but smile at the obvious embarrassment on his face. Megumi, who spends his time playing indifferent, is blushing because of a simple gift exchange.

You turn the lucky charm between your fingers, admiring the details. He really took the time to choose something that would please you. Your heart squeezes gently at this thought.

"I like it a lot," you say as you attach the lucky charm to your bag. "Thank you, Megumi." A slight smile appears on his lips.

Yuji I.

Yuji, with his joyful and boundless energy, is determined to make this Valentine’s Day unforgettable, even if he’s not exactly an expert in traditions. From the moment you wake up, he surprises you with a carefully planned day:

A marathon of romantic movies—though you can tell he’s struggling not to laugh or roll his eyes at the overly cheesy scenes. A baking session where the two of you attempt to make homemade chocolates.

And finally, an evening stroll under the city lights, where Yuji impulsively insists on buying you a giant stuffed animal, just because he thinks it would make you smile.

As the day winds down, the sun dipping below the horizon, you both collapse onto a park bench, exhausted but happy. Laughter still bubbles between you as you recall the absolute disaster that was your chocolate-making attempt.

Yuji turns to you, his warm, sincere smile making your heart skip a beat, his eyes shining with an affection that needs no words.

“You know, I’m really glad I got to spend today with you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was kinda worried I’d mess up Valentine’s Day, but honestly… this was amazing.”

Then, with an adorable hesitation, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, neatly wrapped package. “I made this myself, you know. It’s for you.” His voice is both proud and a little nervous, as if he’s not sure how you’ll react.

Curious, you carefully unwrap it, revealing a handmade bracelet, simple, yet crafted with care. You run your fingers over it, touched by the effort he put into it, a warm smile spreading across your lips. “It’s perfect, Yuji, really. And for your first Valentine’s Day… I have to say, you did an amazing job.”

His laughter rings out before he suddenly pulls you into a tight embrace, his warmth enveloping you completely. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N!”

You laugh softly, resting your head against his shoulder. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Yuji.” And in that moment, frozen in time, you know this day will stay with you forever.

any opinion is appreciated! thanks for reading till the end 💗

masterlist

requests: OPEN.

© 2025 itelya. All work belongs to @itelya. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms.

[blushsturns]

bad boy!matt x librarian!reader valentine's day drabble ꨄ

w/c: 721

you can find more of the pairing here!

“thank you for the flowers. they’re beautiful.”

matt’s lips curve up into wide grin at your words on the other end of the call. he was waiting for you to get home to see the surprise on your doorstep. he could’ve dropped them off at your job, but he figured having them delivered to your front door would be more romantic, and less problematic for you. “i’m so glad you like them. beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl. happy valentine’s day, gorgeous”

you were completely and utterly surprised when you got home from work. today was valentine’s day and you absolutely loved the holiday. sure, it was just another day of the year that you spread love and gratitude to the loved ones in your life, but you were a hopeless romantic at heart. romance novels and movies, happy endings, tear jerking, butterfly roaming, swoon worthy stories about everlasting love made your heart swell up of endless possibilities for that kind of love to find you one day.

even though you had to work this morning, matt managed to surprise you and leave your cheeks warm and blushy and your heart swelling in your chest. maybe he could possibly be the love you were so desperately hoping for one day. you were a little bummed that he didn’t stop in to see you at the library, but you hoped that you could still possibly see him later today.

his words made your cheeks feel extremely warm, a soft giggle emitting from your lips as you place a strand of your hair over your ear. “happy valentine’s day, matt. you know for a bad boy, you sure do know how to make a girl smile.”

you could hear his infectious laugh on the other end of the phone, which was like music to your ears. you were getting used to fitting him into your daily routine. it was almost like you had to talk to him, or you’d start to feel off. you weren’t sure what those feelings meant, and how you truly felt in general about him, but you liked his presence and talking to him in general. he always knew what to say to make you smile and feel giddy. it was so easy and comfortable talking to him and being around him.

“well, lucky for you, i only have time out of my bad boy schedule to make one girl smile.” he let out another laugh, hesitating on his words for a moment before speaking again. “hey, what are you doing tonight? do you have any plans?”

you twirled the strand of your hair around your finger as you kept the phone comfortably pressed against your ear with your other hand. your eyes scanned over to the beautiful roses that you placed in your vase on your desk. you bit onto your bottom lip for a moment as you sat there on your bed, your heart pounding in your chest just from the sound of his voice. what was this boy doing to you? “i don’t have any plans. why? is bad boy matt himself gonna take me out on a date?”

he chuckled again on the other end of the phone. you can just imagine him now, flashing you a small smirk, his body leaning closer to you to get a whiff of his intoxicating cologne and the feeling of his body pressing up against you causing your heart to beat faster in your chest and heat to pool in the pit of your tummy. he didn’t have to physically be in your presence for him to make you feel this way, but when you two were together, things felt insanely electflying. the effect this boy had on you was insane, but you were loving every second of it.

“maybe i am. what do you say, pretty librarian? wanna go on a date with me tonight?”

you didn’t even have to think twice when he asked you. it may of been embarrassing the way you responded so quickly, but you didn’t care. this boy made your heart swoon and you couldn’t get enough. maybe he’d break your heart, maybe he wouldn’t. but the ride would be worth it.

“i would absolutely love to. pick me up at 7, and don’t be late or i’ll have to give you a late fee.”

notes: thank you for reading! happy valentine’s day. ❤️

taglist:

@sturnshood @strangelife122 @jessie-essie @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @sturns-mermaid @matthewsturnsgf @christmastreecake @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer @sophand4n4 @xclusivedesires @mattsplaything @poppingmypussy4chris @mattsbunnyxx @pair-of-pantaloons @chrissweetheart @slutformatt17 @sturnl0ve @pasteldreams @h3arts4harry @marrykisskilled @wh0remikasas @sturnzslut @camzeecorner @alesturniolos @emely9274 @2muchofaslvt @y3sterdaysproblem @sturnslux3 @bowsandsturniolos @moustacherryismyhusband @rafesapprentice @ivysturnss @headzgonewest @strawberryghost3 @il0vey0um0st @violetstxrniolo777 @bigbeefybitch @raesturns @courta13 @sofieeeeex @tylerthecreatorsglazr @kittyyyyykats @sturniolochrismatt

[ihyuka]

Of regrets and other tells | Choi Soobin

summary: Soobin has been building his acting career for years. Sacrificing his time and personal life in more aspects than one, holding onto a broken heart for over 5 years, and perpetually wishing his past relationship didn't end the way it did. Now, he's gotten an imminent return to his hometown thanks to a wedding, the high possibility of seeing his ex (Very possible because she's the groom's sister), and oh, it turns out the groom doesn't know he ever dated his sister. A recipe for disaster

word count: 11.5k

pairing: soobin x female reader

warnings: exes to lovers (sort of), brother's best friend, taehyun is our matchmaker bec he adores his friends, yeonjun is oblivious, tiny bit of angst, soobin is a sweetheart, they're Overthinkers, smut, cunnilingus, fingering, cute and soft love making, unprotected sex, they have feelings for each other, reader can be nasty at times (soobin isn't doing any better tbh), huh, i hope i'm not forgetting something☝️

note: happy valentine’s day! 💕 welcome to my blog!

this idea has been sitting in my drafts forever, so i’m really excited to finally bring it to life today. i’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments (and please be nice—this is my first time posting 🫣).

i hope you enjoy this story! it’s slightly inspired by those classic early 2000s rom-coms we all love. also, english isn’t my first language, so please excuse any mistakes—i’m working on improving!

Soobin doesn’t know what to do with himself.

The first glance had him intrigued. The second? Addicted.

Here’s the thing—he’s known you all his life. He was always the kid befriending older guys at school, constantly seeking the company of those ahead of him. He loved it. Until, of course, life happened. One by one, his friends left for university, leaving him behind for one last year of high school. It wasn’t all bad, though—because that’s when he met you.

Yeonjun’s little sister. A friend of his. Someone his age who helped him adjust to a new social scene, introducing him to people and boosting his confidence. You were always there. Always helping. And now? Now he hasn’t seen you in years. He has a life in Seoul. He’s moved on.

Or so he thought.

Because the moment he sees you in that red dress, smiling, radiant, otherworldly—he realizes something painful and undeniable.

He’s so fucked.

And worse? He’s dated you before.

He’s so, so fucked. Yeonjun is going to kill him.

Soobin is hyper-aware of his surroundings.

He always is. It comes with the territory of being a high-profile actor. He’s gotten used to sneaking around, blending into crowds, avoiding unnecessary attention. Weddings in South Korea, though, are practically public events. The worst place to hide. He’s trying to be subtle—maybe if he stands still long enough, he’ll blend into the walls.

“Hi?”

He freezes. He knows that voice anywhere. Familiar, warm—like home. And like regret.

It’s you.

It’s ridiculous, really. He’s standing there, towering over everyone, wearing sunglasses in the middle of December, looking every bit as awkward as he feels.

“Um, hi?” His voice comes out strained, awkward. God, why can’t this be easier? “How have you been?”

What a stupid question. He hasn’t seen you in five years. You both took different paths, built your lives apart. He dated you for two months, so why does it feel like he can’t breathe now that you’re standing in front of him?

“Good.” You smile. “Let’s not make this weird, shall we? It’s been a long time.”

You’re so over him.

And he’s regretting everything.

“Okay,” he says softly. “I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

And just like that, you’re gone. Someone calls your name, and you walk away.

Fuck.

That’s the only thing running through your mind, too.

Why did he have to be this attractive? You had a plan. Approach him, make small talk, prove to yourself you were over him. That was it. But the second you saw him? Plan out the window. He looked unfairly good—taller, broader, blonde. Blonde. What kind of sick joke was this?

And thankfully, mercifully, he didn’t notice the way you reacted.

God, you’re so fucked.

Soobin tells himself he’s fine.

He gave his speech as best man. He made people laugh. He shared embarrassing photos of Yeonjun for everyone’s amusement. He did his job.

But now? Now he’s pissed.

And he knows he shouldn’t be.

You aren’t his. You haven’t been his in years. Even if you were, he doesn’t own you. He understands that—logically. But watching some guy dance too close to you, hands lingering where they shouldn’t—his instincts are screaming.

He knows that look. The same one he’s giving you now. Hunger. Want. Need.

Maybe the guy is your boyfriend. Maybe he isn’t. All Soobin knows is that he hates him.

“Why aren’t you dancing with her if you want her so much?” Taehyun’s voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. Ever the straightforward one, Taehyun has had the front-row seat to Soobin’s misery for the past five years.

“I don’t deserve her.” The words come out bitter. Regretful. “I broke her heart.”

“Maybe. But she still wants you to try.” Taehyun doesn’t hesitate. “She’s dancing nonstop with Jihoon, but everyone knows he’s chasing her, not the other way around. This isn’t like her. She’s doing this because of you.”

Soobin swallows hard.

“Besides,” Taehyun adds casually, “she told Yeonjun about you two this morning.”

Cold dread washes over him. “What?”

Taehyun shrugs. “I overheard. You know that tree in front of their house? They were talking there.”

“So what did he say?” Soobin asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“No clue. I had to get to work.”

Soobin groans. “How do you just drop information like that and leave?”

“Because I trust you’ll figure it out.” Taehyun smirks. “Now go get your girl. She’s drunk, and she looks done with that guy.”

Soobin didn’t think it through.

You were drunk, and all he wanted was to get you somewhere safe. A chair—that was the plan. That should have been enough. But then you whined about wanting your bed, and Yeonjun, in a rare moment of brotherly responsibility, decided Soobin was the best person to handle it.

“The party’s ending soon, and I’m leaving for Japan tomorrow,” Yeonjun had said, handing you over like you weren’t his problem anymore. “Just drop her at her apartment.”

And that’s how Soobin found himself here—standing in your building’s dimly lit hallway at an ungodly hour, praying to every higher power that no one was following him. The last thing either of you needed was for the media to sniff this out.

Not that he was worried about himself.

It was you. You, who deserved a normal life. You, who had worked so hard to distance yourself from him, from his world. And yet, here you were, tangled up in his orbit again.

And here’s another thing: you’re just as bad as Yeonjun when it comes to alcohol. Soobin knows this. He also knows you have a soft spot for that fruity soju, the kind that creeps up on you before you even realize you’ve had too much. And he knows you’re probably going to feel sick soon, which is why, in the worst decision he’s made today, he stays.

You’ve been awake for an hour now, your body heavy with the aftermath of last night. The alcohol is gone, drained from your system, but the discomfort lingers—hunger gnawing at your stomach, the stale aftertaste of regret coating your tongue.

You should get up.

You should get water.

But the thought of stepping into an empty apartment makes your chest tighten.

The memory of his hands—gentle as he guided you to bed, careful as he removed your shoes—lingers. He was being nice. That’s all. He was being nice.

God, you still like him.

Five years, and you still haven’t gotten over a man. Two months were all it took for him to ruin you, to make every fleeting touch feel like a shock to your system. You’ve tried. You’ve moved forward. And yet, here you are, terrified of facing an empty space because for a moment—just a moment—he had been here again.

Your breakup had been your fault.

You tell yourself that, over and over.

You were young—barely nineteen, selfish, and desperate for attention. Soobin was chasing his dream, working himself to the bone between university and his company’s relentless trainee schedule. He had asked you to understand. He had begged you to wait. But you got tired. You fought. And the cracks in your heart never quite mended after that.

Soobin has only slept for four hours before deciding he should leave something behind for you—a quiet, impersonal gesture. Some homemade food. A note about how busy he is, how he can’t stay, but he hopes you feel better.

That’s the plan.

And that’s what he’s thinking as he stands in your kitchen, stirring ramen—the closest thing to homemade comfort he can manage.

But then you appear.

The dress from last night is gone, replaced by something that barely qualifies as pajamas. Soobin freezes, spoon clattering against the pot.

December. It’s December, and you’re walking around like this?

Jesus Christ.

“Hi,” he says, clearing his throat. “I made ramen. I hope you’re hungry.”

You don’t answer right away, moving past him to grab a glass of water. He watches as you take a slow sip, the silence stretching between you.

Then, softly, “I’m sorry. For last night.”

Soobin shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I do,” you insist. “I can handle my alcohol better now. You didn’t have to do all this.”

“But I wanted to.” The words slip out before he can stop them. Too honest.

You pause. Then: “Add an egg. They’re on the top shelf.”

It’s not quite an acknowledgment. Not quite forgiveness. But you move to set the table for two without another word, and Soobin understands. He’s staying.

There are things that need to be said.

And it’s not safe for him to leave. You know that. The cameras follow him everywhere. You’d never risk him like that—not after everything.

“It’s done,” he says, bringing the pot to the table. “But I should—”

“Don’t,” you cut in. Your voice is steady, decisive. “The cameras could be outside. Stay.” A pause. Then, softer, “Besides… we need to talk.”

Easier said than done.

The ramen sits between you, steam curling into the air. Neither of you moves to eat.

Soobin watches as you fidget with the edge of your sleeve, pressing the fabric between your fingers like it’s something to hold onto. It’s a nervous habit—one he remembers all too well.

You’re the first to break the silence.

“So… How have you been?”

It’s a ridiculous question. Too small for the weight between you. Too casual for two people who haven’t spoken in years.

Soobin exhales, forcing a small smile. “Busy.”

That much is obvious. His face is everywhere—billboards, magazine covers, TV screens. He’s the one people stop in the streets, the one whose name is whispered in admiration or envy.

But you nod like you don’t already know, like you haven’t seen his face staring back at you from the glossy pages of magazines while waiting in line for coffee.

You reach for your chopsticks, stirring the noodles absently. “And… are you happy?”

That question lands heavier. He doesn’t answer right away.

He should say yes.

He should tell you that everything worked out, that he got everything he wanted, that all the sacrifices were worth it.

Instead, he looks at you—the way you avoid his gaze, the way your fingers tremble slightly before you curl them into a fist—and he tells the truth.

“I don’t know.”

Your breath hitches, but you recover quickly, schooling your features into something unreadable.

You look away, pretending to be focused on your bowl. “I thought you would be.”

Soobin swallows. “I thought you would be, too.”

That gets you. Your fingers tighten around your chopsticks, but you don’t say anything right away.

Soobin leans forward slightly, watching you carefully. “You left first,” he says, quiet but firm. “I waited. I called. And then, one day, you just weren’t there anymore.”

You let out a slow breath, finally meeting his eyes. “And if I had stayed?”

The question is quiet. Almost a whisper.

Soobin blinks. “What?”

“If I had stayed.” You search his face like you’re looking for something—confirmation, maybe. Closure. “Would anything have changed?”

The answer sits heavy on his tongue.

Would it have?

Back then, he was young and hungry, chasing a dream he wasn’t sure he’d ever catch. He was terrified of losing you, but he was also terrified of failing—of choosing wrong, of looking back one day and realizing he had given up too much.

And you—God, you just wanted him. Not the future version of him, not the one he was still trying to become. You just wanted the boy who used to walk you home, the one who held your hand under the table, the one who promised to love you even when things got hard.

Soobin looks at you now, older, sharper, still devastatingly familiar.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

You let out a soft, humorless laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah,” you murmur. “Me neither.”

The room settles into silence again, but this time, it’s different. Softer.

Soobin watches as you finally take a bite of your ramen, eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment at the warmth.

And maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s too late.

But for the first time in five years, you’re sitting across from each other, sharing something that feels dangerously close to peace.

And maybe, for now, that’s enough.

“You should go.”

The words taste like regret the moment they leave your lips.

Soobin stills. His chopsticks pause midair before he lowers them onto the table with agonizing slowness.

His eyes meet yours, searching. “You really want that?”

You inhale sharply, willing yourself to hold his gaze. “Yes.”

A lie.

But you say it anyway, because it’s easier than admitting the truth—that his presence is unraveling you piece by piece. That sitting across from him like this, pretending there isn’t history between you, is torture.

Soobin exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Right.” He pushes his chair back, standing. “I should’ve known.”

He’s hurt. You can see it in the tight set of his jaw, the way his fingers twitch at his sides. And it makes you want to take it back—swallow the words down and tell him to stay.

But you don’t.

You stay seated, gripping your hands together in your lap as he walks toward the door.

He hesitates.

For a moment, it feels like the universe is holding its breath.

Then, his voice—low, steady. “Why do you always do this?”

Your head snaps up. “Do what?”

“Push me away.”

You freeze.

Soobin turns, expression unreadable. “I don’t get it. You let me take care of you. You let me stay. And now you want me to leave?” He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Is this a game to you?”

Your stomach twists. “No.”

“Then what is it?” His voice rises slightly, frustration seeping through. “Because I don’t know what you want from me, and I don’t think you do either.”

Your heart pounds. “I just—” You stop, exhaling shakily. “It’s not that simple, Soobin.”

“It could be.” His gaze softens. “If you let it.”

You shake your head. “You don’t understand—”

“Then make me understand.”

The words cut through the air between you, heavy and full of something you’re not ready to name.

You swallow, feeling exposed. “I don’t want to need you,” you whisper.

Soobin’s expression shifts. He steps closer. “Why?”

“Because it’s dangerous.” Your voice shakes. “Because I’ve spent years trying to forget what it felt like to love you, and every time you’re near, I realize I never really stopped.”

Silence.

Then, Soobin exhales sharply. “You think you were the only one?”

Your breath catches.

“I tried,” he admits. “I tried moving on. I tried pretending you weren’t the best thing that ever happened to me. But it never worked.” His voice drops lower, more vulnerable. “You never left me, _____. Not really.”

You feel yourself crumbling, breaking open under his words.

“So tell me,” he continues, stepping even closer. “Do you really want me to leave?”

You open your mouth—

But the answer is already written all over your face.

And Soobin sees it.

Slowly, hesitantly, he lifts a hand, his fingertips ghosting over yours on the table. “If you tell me to go,” he says softly, “I will.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling shakily.

Then—

You flip your hand over, letting your fingers intertwine with his.

“You should stay.”

Soobin exhales, like he’s been holding his breath for years.

And this time—

He does.

Soobin stays.

Neither of you says much after that. The weight of your confession lingers in the air between you, delicate and fragile, like glass that could shatter at any second. But neither of you runs.

Instead, you sit there, sharing ramen in comfortable silence, the steam curling between you like something unspoken. His fingers, warm and steady, never fully leave yours—not gripping, not demanding, just there. A quiet promise.

You don’t sleep much.

Even after the bowls are empty, after he insists on washing the dishes, after you both linger in the doorway of your bedroom—uncertain but unwilling to let go—you just lie there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the city outside.

Somewhere in the other room, Soobin is asleep on your couch.

Or at least, you think he is.

You don’t have the courage to check.

By the time morning comes, you’re still lying in the same position, arms curled under your pillow, the weight of last night pressing down on your chest.

You should get up.

But then—

A soft knock at your door.

You inhale sharply, heart stuttering.

Then, his voice, groggy, uncertain. “Are you awake?”

You swallow. Your fingers curl into the sheets.

You shouldn’t answer. You should pretend you’re asleep, give yourself time to think. But your voice betrays you before your brain catches up.

“Yeah.”

A pause. Then—

The door creaks open.

Soobin stands there, sleep-rumpled and unfairly attractive in the dim morning light. His hoodie hangs loose on his frame, his blonde hair a tousled mess. He looks softer like this—less like the untouchable actor everyone knows, and more like the boy you once loved.

Still love.

He hesitates, fingers gripping the edge of the doorframe. “Can I…?”

You nod before he can finish the question.

And just like that, he steps inside, quiet, careful.

The bed dips under his weight as he sits at the edge, close but not too close. He rubs a hand over his face, sighing.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he admits, voice low.

You exhale, shifting onto your side to face him. “Me neither.”

A small, tired smile flickers across his lips. “Figures.”

Silence stretches between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s just… there. Something old and familiar. Something neither of you knows what to do with.

Then, softly—

“Did you mean it?”

You freeze.

His voice is careful, like he’s afraid of the answer.

You know what he’s asking.

You could lie. You could say it was the alcohol, or the moment, or the past clouding your judgment.

But you don’t.

“Yeah.”

Soobin exhales, shoulders sinking like he’s been carrying the weight of that answer for years.

Then—hesitantly, slowly—he lifts a hand, brushing his fingers against yours on the sheets.

And this time, you don’t pull away.

Not when his fingers trace over your palm. Not when his touch lingers, warm and sure.

Not when he whispers, so quiet you almost miss it—

“Then don’t make me leave.”

The air between you is thick, suffocating. The moment you told him to stay, the balance shifted. The door remains closed, the walls pressing in, the weight of years apart and the lies you’ve told yourselves coiling tighter and tighter.

Soobin doesn’t let go of your hand. He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t move closer either. He’s waiting. For what? For you to give in? For you to push him away again?

You don’t know. But you know this: you can’t breathe.

He exhales sharply, like he’s been holding back words he doesn’t trust himself to say. “I don’t know how to do this with you.”

“Do what?” Your voice barely makes it past your lips. Your fingers twitch in his grip, and that alone has his jaw tightening.

“Pretend,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against the pulse point of your wrist. His voice is quiet, careful, but there’s an undercurrent of something dangerous. “Pretend that I’m okay. That seeing you doesn’t do something to me. That I haven’t spent the past five years wondering if you ever thought about me, too.”

Your breath stutters, but you force yourself to keep looking at him. “Soobin—”

“I should hate you.” His voice is steadier now, but his grip on your hand betrays him. Tight, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again. “Do you know that?”

You swallow. “I know.”

“I tried.” He lets out a sharp laugh, bitter and tired. “God, I fucking tried.”

“So did I,” you whisper. “I tried forgetting you, too.”

His fingers tighten around yours. “Did it work?”

“No.”

The word sits heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of you move. The ramen has gone cold. The room feels smaller. Your heart is a hammer against your ribs, and still, he doesn’t let go.

Then, his eyes flicker downward—just for a second. To your lips.

And that’s when you do it.

You rip your hand from his and step back, breathing uneven. “This isn’t fair.”

Soobin looks at you like you’ve just torn something out of him. “No. It’s not.”

You turn away, hands trembling as you grip the edge of the counter. “We’re not kids anymore. We can’t just—just fall back into whatever this is.”

“What is this, then?” His voice is lower now, rough, frayed at the edges. “Tell me. Because I think about you, and it makes me fucking sick how much I still—”

He stops himself. He presses his lips together so tightly it looks painful. He takes a deep breath, then another. But it doesn’t help. You can see it. The storm in his eyes. The anger. The longing.

You shake your head, pushing down everything clawing its way up your throat. “You should go.”

“No.”

You whip around. “Soobin—”

“No.” He steps forward, and this time, you’re the one who freezes. He towers over you, his presence burning into your skin. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to pull me back in just to push me away again.”

His voice drops lower, dangerously soft. “I stayed away for five years. I did what you wanted. I let you go. And now you tell me to stay, and then you tell me to leave?”

You close your eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He exhales sharply. Then, after a long pause, he whispers, “Neither do I.”

Another silence. But this one is different.

You open your eyes, and he’s right there. Close enough to touch. Close enough that you can see the way his lashes tremble, the way his fingers curl into fists at his sides like he’s physically holding himself back.

And you can feel it—

The breaking point.

It’s coming.

His breath catches. His fingers flex against the fabric of his hoodie, knuckles whitening like he’s barely holding himself back.

His silence is unbearable, but you don’t know how to fix it.

So you move before you can talk yourself out of it.

Slowly, carefully, you reach for his hand, mirroring the way he was holding you. Just a brush of your fingertips at first, testing, waiting—until he lets out a shaky exhale and turns his palm over to catch you.

Your fingers intertwine again, the simplest thing in the world.

Soobin's voice is hoarse when he speaks. "Tell me what you want."

"I don’t know," you admit. "I don’t know if I can do this again. If I can survive losing you twice."

Something flickers in his expression—something raw, breaking.

"I never wanted you to lose me."

"Then why did it feel like I had to?"

Soobin squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over the ridges of your knuckles. His voice is unsteady when he says, "Because I was scared. Of ruining things. Of choosing wrong."

"And now?"

Now.

Soobin doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he lifts your joined hands, pressing his forehead to the back of yours like he’s trying to ground himself. You can feel the unspoken words vibrating against your skin, seeping through his touch.

Now, he's still scared. But more than that—he doesn’t want to lose you again.

His lips part, breath warm against your skin. "I think I've been in love with you this whole time."

Your heart stops.

Then—before you can overthink it, before logic creeps in and tears this moment apart—you let go of his hand.

Only to reach for his face.

Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling him in, and before you can fully process what you're doing, your lips brush against his.

Soft. Tentative.

The moment you start to pull away, Soobin makes a sound—low and desperate in the back of his throat—and suddenly, he's kissing you like he's afraid you'll disappear.

His hands are warm when they cup your face, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss, so he can drink you in like he’s been starving for you.

And maybe he has.

Maybe you have, too.

The past and the present blur together, all the years apart collapsing into this one unbearable, impossible moment.

And when you finally break apart, forehead resting against his, breaths mingling in the quiet night, you realize something terrifying.

Loving him was never the problem.

It was surviving it that scared you.

And now?

Now, you're not sure you care about surviving at all.

Soobin can’t stop kissing you.

It’s reckless. Messy. A raw, consuming need that shakes through him, leaves him breathless, leaves you breathless. His fingers dig into your waist like he needs something to hold onto, something to tether himself to reality, because this—this doesn’t feel real. It feels like something forbidden, like something he shouldn’t have, but is taking anyway.

It’s crazy. It’s physically impossible for him to stop.

And you don’t want him to.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging, nails scratching lightly against his scalp, and he shudders. His lips press harder, deeper, stealing the air from your lungs, but you don’t care. You’d let him. You’d give it to him.

Then you whimper. Just the softest, neediest sound—one you didn’t mean to make, one you probably don’t even realize you made.

How dare you.

Soobin groans against your mouth, low and guttural, and suddenly, his hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, pressing you closer, closer, like there will never be enough space between you to satisfy him.

"Please," you breathe, and it’s wrecked.

His lips hover just above yours, his forehead resting against yours as he exhales sharply. His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, but there’s something else, something deeper—like he’s drowning in you and has no desire to come up for air.

"Fuck," he mutters, his voice rough, strained. Your name follows, dripping from his lips like a prayer. "You need to stop making those sounds." He swallows hard, his jaw clenched. "Unless you want another thing."

Another thing.

You shiver, your fingers curling around the fabric of his hoodie, barely keeping yourself grounded.

But Soobin doesn’t stop. His lips keep finding yours between words, between breaths, and god—he kisses like he’s never going to get the chance again. Soft, then rough, then soft again. Like he’s caught in between worshipping you and ruining you.

And then you moan.

A real moan. Not soft. Not restrained. A full, broken, breathless moan.

And that’s it. That’s the end of his control.

Soobin curses under his breath, something low, something desperate. Then suddenly, he shifts—presses you down, his body covering yours completely. His hands, once hesitant, now move like they have a purpose, sliding up, gripping, mapping out every inch of you like he’s memorizing it.

His lips are everywhere now—your jaw, your throat, your collarbone—hot and lingering, teeth grazing, tongue soothing.

"God," he breathes against your skin. "You don’t—" He presses another kiss just beneath your ear, his voice unraveling. "You don’t get it, do you?"

You can barely think, barely form words. "Get what?"

"How long—" He exhales sharply, his breath fanning against your skin. "How long I’ve wanted this."

Your chest tightens. "Then why—"

"Because I was a fucking coward," he admits, voice thick, raw. His fingers tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are unreadable—too many things crashing together at once. Lust. Longing. Something deeper. Something dangerous. "But I can’t be, not right now. Not when you’re—"

You kiss him before he can finish.

Because you don’t want to hear whatever doubt lingers in his words. Not now. Not when his body is so warm, not when his lips taste like regret and longing and every single thing you’ve ever tried to suppress.

Soobin groans into your mouth, deep and ruined, and it sets you on fire.

And the worst part?

You know this won’t be enough.

It never will be.

"Stop moving," Soobin growls against your neck. His voice is low, strained, barely holding together. His lips are hot where they press into your skin, and his hands—god, his hands—grip your waist like you’re something fragile, something he’s trying so hard not to break.

But you don’t make it easy for him.

You shift again, just the slightest movement, but it’s enough. Enough for him to tighten his grip, enough for him to press his hips just a little closer, enough for his breath to come out sharp, ragged.

"Or what?" you ask, breathless, teasing, your voice tinged with something dangerous.

You know exactly what you’re doing.

His eyes flick up to yours, dark, heavy, filled with something that makes your stomach flip. And it’s only then that you realize just how close his face is to yours—how you can feel every unsteady breath he takes, how the heat between you feels unbearable, suffocating in the best possible way.

Your lips are swollen, kiss-bruised, and when his gaze drops to them, his jaw clenches.

"Or you’re going to regret it," he murmurs, voice rough, thick with a warning you know he fully intends to follow through on.

But you don’t stop.

Maybe you want to push him. Maybe you want to see what happens when he snaps.

So you shift again, just the tiniest bit, your knee brushing against his thigh, your fingers ghosting over the fabric of his hoodie. Innocent movements, but not really. Not when his breath stutters, not when his fingers twitch against your waist like he’s barely holding himself back.

"Soobin," you whisper, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for, but you can feel the shift in the air between you. Heavy. Charged. Unforgiving.

His hand moves suddenly, gripping your chin, tilting your face up until there’s nowhere to look but at him. His thumb brushes the edge of your bottom lip, and his breath is uneven, his restraint hanging by a thread.

"Do you even know what you’re doing to me?" he asks, his voice low, almost desperate.

And before you can answer, before you can even think, his lips are back on yours.

But this time, it’s different.

This time, it’s not just desperate—it’s deliberate. It’s slow, like he wants you to feel every second of it, every inch of the way he kisses you, the way he presses against you.

Like he’s trying to prove something.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re about to find out exactly what happens when you push him too far.

You moan again.

It’s soft, wrecked, the kind of sound that makes his restraint snap like a thread pulled too tight.

The heat between you is suffocating. You’re burning, aching, every nerve in your body hypersensitive to the way Soobin touches you—like he needs to, like he has no choice.

His breathing is ragged, uneven, his grip on you tightening as if you might slip away.

"Fucking hell, ___," he rasps, voice dark, rough, filled with something dangerous. "Be clear. What do you want now? What do you fucking want?"

His forehead presses to yours, his lips ghosting over your mouth but never quite kissing you, torturing you with the distance. His fingers dig into your waist like he’s barely holding himself back.

"You," you whisper, the word breaking apart in your throat. It’s desperate, needy. You don’t care.

Something shifts.

Soobin exhales sharply, a curse slipping past his lips before he finally—finally—loses the control he was clinging to.

His mouth crashes into yours, rough, insatiable, as if he’s been starving for you and is only now letting himself feast. His hands roam your body, urgent but reverent, like he’s trying to map out every inch of you, trying to commit this moment to memory.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, to drink you in. His pupils are blown wide, his lips swollen and glistening.

"I shouldn't be thinking about you the way I do," he murmurs, his voice almost unsteady. "You make me so fucking crazy."

His lips trail down your neck, hot, open-mouthed kisses pressed into your skin, each one sending a shiver down your spine. His teeth graze your collarbone, and your breath catches.

"That red dress you wore yesterday—fuck." His voice is barely controlled, like the thought alone is unraveling him. "At your brother’s wedding… you have no idea what you did to me."

His hands slide lower, skimming the curve of your waist, gripping you like you belong to him. His mouth follows the path of his hands, kissing, tasting, worshiping.

"You were always beautiful," he breathes against your skin, voice thick with something deeper than lust. "You always were. But yesterday... yesterday, you were fucking stunning."

He pulls back just slightly, his breath hot against your chest. His hands settle over your ribs, thumbs grazing sensitive skin, just barely there, just enough to drive you insane.

And then he stills. Waiting.

"Can I touch you here?" he asks, his voice lower now, raspier, the last shreds of his restraint hanging by a thread.

You shudder. There’s no hesitation.

"Yes."

It comes out breathless, desperate.

The second the word leaves your lips, his hands move—slow, deliberate, fingertips dragging over your skin like he wants to savor every reaction, every tremor that runs through you.

Like he wants you to feel every single second of it.

Soobin takes his time.

He isn’t just exploring you—he’s worshiping. Every inch of your skin is sacred under his touch, and he treats it like something to be memorized. His fingers drag over your ribs, featherlight, teasing. His lips trace slow, reverent paths down your collarbone, pressing kisses that feel more like devotions.

"I'm gonna take these off, okay?" he murmurs, fingers slipping beneath the straps of your bra.

You can only nod, breathless, as he peels the fabric away, eyes darkening at the sight of you. He exhales sharply, almost in disbelief, his hands hesitating like he needs a second to take it all in.

"These are so pretty," he whispers, voice rough. His fingers graze over you, barely there. Then firmer. His thumb flicks over one peak, and you shudder. "Fucking missed them. So much."

His lips replace his fingers, hot and wet and needy. He sucks, licks, nips—his mouth working you over like he's making up for lost time.

"God," he groans against your skin, his voice half-wrecked. "They didn’t look this full before."

The moan that leaves your lips is absolutely shameful—high-pitched, desperate, almost embarrassing. But you don’t care.

Soobin definitely doesn’t care.

He groans at the sound, his grip tightening as if he's trying to steady himself. But then he does it again—scraping his teeth lightly against you, his tongue soothing over the sting, sucking just enough to make you whimper.

"Shit," he breathes, voice shaking. "You're too good. Too fucking good."

He looks up at you, eyes burning. And then he does it again.

And again.

Until you're nothing but gasps and shivers and pure, unbearable need.

"Please," you whimper, your voice barely more than a breath. "Please."

Soobin’s lips hover just above your skin, his breath warm against your cheek. He doesn’t move, doesn’t give in. His fingers dig into your waist, keeping you still, keeping you desperate.

"What do you want, sweetheart?" His voice is low, teasing, thick with something dark and knowing.

"You."

His lips quirk up slightly. "But you have me right now, hm?" His tone is deceptively soft, but there’s something else underneath—something dangerous.

"You know what I mean," you say, almost frustrated.

He tilts his head, pretending to consider. "No, I don’t," he murmurs. "Tell me."

Your cheeks burn. Your entire body burns. But you say it anyway, voice shaking with need.

"Please, I want you inside."

Something in him snaps.

"Oh? Me?" He pulls back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes, his own gaze dark, unreadable. "The man you wanted so bad to leave?"

Your nails dig into his shoulders. "Fuck you, Soobin."

He laughs, a low, breathy sound that vibrates against your skin. He leans in, his lips brushing your ear.

"Ah, yes, babe, I’m fucking you," he whispers, his voice dripping with wicked amusement. His hands tighten their hold on you. "And you’re gonna take it—every inch—because you know damn well that you’ve been mine just as much as I’ve been yours."

His words send a shudder down your spine, a delicious ache curling in your gut.

"Mmm," Soobin hums, dragging his hands down your sides, his touch maddeningly slow. "Should I take my time with you... or not?"

Your body is burning, aching. You can’t take it anymore.

"Just do it," you snap, your voice needy, desperate.

He chuckles, tilting his head, dark amusement flickering in his eyes. "That eager, huh? Then help me out, baby." His fingers toy with the waistband of your shorts. "Take these off. Let me see that beautiful body of yours—fully naked."

Your fingers shake as you push them down, the cool air against your exposed skin doing nothing to cool the fire raging inside you.

"This is unfair," you mumble, looking up at him. "You’re still dressed."

That’s all it takes.

In one smooth motion, Soobin pulls off his shirt, then his pants, and finally, his boxers. He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t tease. He just stands before you—bare, unashamed, strong.

And big.

Your breath catches in your throat. God. It’s been a while since you last saw him like this, but—oh, wow. Yeah. Big. He was always like that.

Your mouth parts slightly, your thighs instinctively pressing together.

He catches it. Of course, he catches it.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he leans down, pressing his mouth to your ear. "Speechless?" he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Missed me that much, baby?"

His hands find your hips, gripping them firmly as he pulls you flush against him. Skin to skin. Heat to heat.

"You have no idea," you whisper.

You moan when he dares to tease you, his fingers ghosting over your aching heat, his breath hot against your skin. It’s unbearable.

Your patience snaps.

"Fuck you, Soobin," you nearly growl, frustration dripping from your voice. "Why the fuck—just please."

He looks at you, amused, entirely too in control. He loves this. Loves watching you unravel.

"Poor, desperate thing," he muses, tilting his head like he’s savoring every second of your frustration. "So fucking needy. Do you want me that bad?"

Your face burns. Humiliation and desire mix in a dizzying cocktail, but you can’t lie.

"Yeah," you admit, barely above a whisper.

Soobin hums in satisfaction, his hands gripping your thighs, thumbs smoothing circles against your heated skin. "Mmm, I think I should have my fun first," he murmurs. Then, without another word, he drops to his knees before you, eyes dark, pupils blown wide with hunger.

His breath hits you first, warm and teasing, and then his voice—low and devastating.

"Has this sweet little hole missed me?"

Before you can even react, he licks a slow, deliberate stripe up your center, sending a violent shudder through your body.

You cry out, hands flying to his hair. Oh, god. No, no, please—oh, don’t stop.

And then you lose it.

Soobin devours you, his mouth hot and greedy, tongue working you like he’s been waiting for this moment forever. The wet sounds, the low, satisfied groans he lets out against you—it’s filthy, overwhelming. His grip tightens, pressing you further into his mouth, making sure you feel every movement, every flick of his tongue.

"Let me worship this pussy," he groans against you, his voice muffled and rough. "It’s been too fucking long."

Your back arches.

"Fuck, you taste even better than I remember." His lips press against your thigh, only to return to where you need him most. "Mmm, let’s take our time with this, babe. Some good, long foreplay, yeah?"

You can’t help it—you start moving, rocking your hips against his face, desperate for more friction, more of him. The pleasure is too much, too overwhelming, and you barely register the strangled sound Soobin makes as you grind down against his tongue.

"God," you whimper, your breath hitching. "I’m—"

His fingers tease at your entrance, slow, lazy, completely unbothered by your urgency. "What? Gonna cum already, babe?" His voice is muffled, drenched in amusement, lips slick and glistening from you. "Mmm, you really are needy, huh?"

He presses a teasing kiss against your thigh before slipping a finger inside, just barely, making you jerk.

"Bet that boyfriend of yours doesn’t give you shit," he murmurs, voice laced with something sharp, something possessive.

"I don’t—" You gasp as he pushes in deeper, a single finger stretching you open just enough to make you shudder. "Fuck, fuck," your head tilts back, eyes rolling as he adds another. "I don’t have a boyfriend."

That makes him pause. You feel his smirk against your skin before he speaks.

"You don’t?" He croons, curling his fingers just right, making your whole body jolt. "No wonder you’re this fucking desperate. God, you needed this, didn’t you?"

"Soobin—"

"Wanna cum, babe?" His breath is hot against your core, his fingers still working you open. "Say it."

"Yeah," you pant, gripping at his hair, hips still rolling instinctively against his hand.

"Mmm," he hums, withdrawing his fingers just enough to make you whine, just enough to leave you aching. "Let’s edge you a little first."

"No—fuck you," you snap, your voice dripping with frustration.

His low chuckle sends shivers down your spine. "You get so fucking mean when you’re horny," he muses, pumping his fingers in again, slower, teasing. "I like this coming from you."

And then he presses his tongue against your clit again, and all coherent thoughts disappear.

The coil in your belly winds so tight, so unbearable, that when it finally snaps, it sends you spiraling.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—" your voice breaks, and your entire body trembles as the pleasure crashes over you in waves. Your thighs clamp around his head, fingers tangling in his hair as you convulse, lost in the euphoria of it.

Soobin groans against you, feeling everything—the way your walls pulse around his fingers, the way your body shudders under his grip, the way you completely come undone for him. And fuck, it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t dare stop.

He laps at you, drinking in every drop, his tongue relentless as he works you through the high, dragging it out, making your legs shake. His hands tighten around your hips, keeping you still, keeping you his.

"Soobin—oh, god—" Your voice is hoarse, wrecked, but he doesn't let up. His tongue flicks over your sensitive clit again and you jerk, body twisting, overstimulated and desperate.

"You taste so fucking good," he groans against you, voice thick with hunger. "Missed this. Missed you."

You whimper, pushing at his head, your body twitching, too much, too much—

But Soobin just smirks against your trembling thighs, eyes dark, voice husky.

"One more," he murmurs. "Give me one more, baby. I know you can."

When you come again, it blindsides you. You weren’t lying—it was too much, your body was too sensitive, but somehow, it still betrays you, still obeys the relentless pleasure he’s forcing on you.

The orgasm rips through you, fast and hard, stealing the breath from your lungs. It’s overwhelming, all-consuming—your thighs quake, your back arches, and your hands claw helplessly at the sheets, at him, at anything to ground yourself.

And then—fuck.

A rush of wetness spills from you in pulsing waves, leaving you breathless, wrecked.

Soobin stills for half a second, then groans, long and deep, as if you just gave him the most precious gift. His hands tighten on your thighs as he watches, completely mesmerized, watching how your body gushes for him, soaking his mouth, his chin, the sheets beneath you.

“Holy fuck.” His voice is thick, raspy, wrecked. "Look at you, baby." He doesn’t miss a single drop, drinking you in like he’s been starving for you, eyes dark with pure, unfiltered lust.

You whimper, trembling, overstimulated beyond belief. “Soobin—fuck, I can’t, I—”

He shushes you, pressing slow, deliberate kisses to your inner thighs, letting you feel the way his lips linger. His hands caress your shaking legs, soothing and possessive at the same time.

“You can,” he murmurs against your skin. “And you did.” His voice drips with pride, with something dangerously close to reverence. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

And then, with a wicked smirk, he licks his lips, tasting you all over again.

“Think you can give me one more, sweetheart?”

“No”

Soobin chuckles, low and deep, the sound vibrating through the air between you. His hands trail lazily over your trembling thighs, teasing, never staying in one place long enough to satisfy.

"No?" He mimics your weak protest, tilting his head as if he’s actually considering giving you a break. But the smirk playing on his lips says otherwise.

Then he sees it—sees the way your eyes keep flickering downward, dark and hazy, locked onto him. The way your breath hitches just slightly at the sight of his cock, thick and hard, standing between you.

“Mmm, we should let this body rest, shouldn’t we?” His tone is soft, almost pitying, but there’s a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “You’re so sensitive, all worn out, we should stop—”

He pauses, trailing a teasing finger up your inner thigh.

“But,” he drawls, watching the way you squirm, “the way you’re looking at me right now? Fuck, sweetheart, you’re practically salivating.” His voice drops lower, rougher. “You know you’re trouble, don’t you?”

Your breath stutters, but you shake your head weakly. “Mmm… no.”

His eyes darken instantly. “Liar.”

You swallow, voice barely above a whisper. “Want you.”

His grip on your thighs tightens.

You’re relentless now, pleading, your voice thick with need. “I really want you.”

Soobin hums, his fingers skating dangerously close to where you need him most, barely there, teasing. “Didn’t you just say you needed a rest?”

You nod, breathless. “Yeah…”

He raises a brow. “So what happened?”

You whimper, arching into his touch, impatient. “I—fuck—I want you,” you admit, your voice trembling with desperation. “It’s been too long. Please.”

Something in him snaps.

A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and heavy.

“You want me that bad?” His voice is dark, full of something you can’t quite name.

You nod rapidly, your whole body begging for him.

He chuckles again, low and satisfied, pressing a soft, teasing kiss against your jaw.

“Then, baby,” he murmurs, “you better take what you asked for.”

And just like that—despite the way your body trembles, despite the way you're still reeling from the last two orgasms that left you oversensitive and dazed—he enters you.

It’s slow at first, agonizingly slow, as if he’s savoring the feeling of stretching you open, of feeling you take him inch by inch. Your breath hitches, a gasp spilling from your lips at the fullness, the overwhelming sensation of being filled.

But then he snaps.

A sharp inhale, a guttural curse under his breath, and all that patience vanishes. His grip on your hips tightens—no hesitation, no holding back.

"Gotta fuck this pussy like she deserves to be fucked." His voice is rough, wrecked, tinged with something possessive.

He drives into you, deep and unrelenting, his hips slamming against yours with a force that makes your head spin. The room fills with the obscene sound of skin against skin, the wet, messy proof of just how much you need this, how much you need him.

Your hands claw at his back, nails digging into his skin as he pounds into you, dragging you closer, forcing you to take every inch. Every thrust sends a new wave of pleasure tearing through you, unbearable and yet not enough.

"So fucking tight," he growls, watching the way your body swallows him whole, clenching around him, greedy. "Like you were made for me."

You can't even respond—your words lost to the moans and cries spilling uncontrollably from your lips.

His hand grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his. "Look at me," he commands, voice dark, dangerous. "You feel that? Hm? You feel how deep I am?"

You nod weakly, barely able to think.

"Good," he grits out, snapping his hips even harder. "Because I'm not stopping until I ruin you."

He does ruin you. Completely.

The sound of it—wet, obscene, filthy—fills the space, each thrust echoing between the walls like a symphony of pure sin. Your body is a mess beneath him, pliant and wrecked, reduced to nothing but sensation, but pleasure.

And Soobin devours you.

His lips find every inch of your skin—your neck, your collarbone, the hollow of your throat—leaving open-mouthed kisses, sucking bruises that will linger long after this moment. His hands roam, gripping, kneading, worshiping. Every touch is possessive, claiming.

Your only response is to take it. To surrender to the way he stretches you, fills you so perfectly. It’s been too long since you’ve felt like this, since you’ve felt this full, this good.

"You feel that, baby?" he mutters against your jaw, his voice thick with lust, his thrusts sharp and punishing. "This is what you’ve been missing. What no one else can fucking give you."

You moan—a broken, desperate sound.

"Say it," he demands, his fingers slipping between your bodies, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and pressing down hard.

You jolt, eyes rolling back. "You," you gasp. "Only you—fuck—no one else."

He groans, burying his face against your neck as if the admission undoes him. And then he snaps, fucking into you like he wants to make sure you’ll never forget this, never forget him.

"I'm gonna fucking cum," you practically scream, your voice breaking, body trembling.

Soobin chuckles, low and taunting, never slowing his ruthless pace. "Oh, poor baby," he coos mockingly, his fingers slipping down between your bodies, finding your clit with wicked precision. He presses down, rubs slow, lazy circles—just to watch you squirm.

"You wanna cum that bad?" he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement, eyes dark with something feral. "So fucking desperate. Look at you—shaking. You can’t even take it, can you?"

You whimper, your fingers clawing at his back, his arms, anything you can reach. It’s too much, too good, too perfect. Your body is fire, every nerve on the edge of combustion.

"So needy for me," Soobin groans, leaning down, his lips brushing over yours. "But you know I love it when you beg, sweetheart. So why don’t you be a good girl and ask me for it?"

Your pride and sanity shatter.

"Please," you gasp, wrecked and mindless. "Please, Soobin, let me cum. Please—"

"That’s my girl," he growls, and then he rubs harder, fucks you deeper, until you break—until you fall apart around him with a sobbing cry, your body seizing, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave.

And Soobin watches it all, drinking in every second, every sound, every tremor of your body as you unravel beneath him.

It takes him a few seconds—just long enough to watch you come undone beneath him, to feel your walls flutter and clench so tightly around him that his restraint snaps like a frayed wire.

A deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest as his hips stutter, losing rhythm. His fingers dig into your waist, hard, holding you still as he buries himself to the hilt.

"Fuck—" he rasps, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he spills inside you, the heat of it making you shudder. He pulses, each wave of his release drawn out by the way your body still clenches greedily around him.

He pants against your skin, his breath hot and uneven. "Shit," he mutters, pressing absentminded kisses against your jaw, your cheek, anywhere he can reach. His hand slides up your side, lazy, possessive. "You feel so fucking good—"

You're still trembling, body sensitive, spent, but you turn your head, catching his lips in a slow, messy kiss. He groans into it, hips rolling shallowly, like he can't stop, like he’s still savoring every aftershock.

Neither of you move for a long moment. Just the sound of your mingled breathing, his weight pressing you into the mattress, the warmth of his release still deep inside you.

Then, finally, Soobin exhales a small, breathless laugh against your skin.

"Yeah." He nuzzles into your neck, voice lower, softer now. "You're mine."

You smile, breath still uneven, body still trembling. "I always was."

Soobin exhales sharply, like the words hit him somewhere deep. His arms tighten around you, pressing your body closer, unwilling to let go just yet. He kisses you—slow, lingering, almost tender now. Like he’s sealing something between you.

You don’t remember falling asleep, only the warmth of his body wrapped around yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, the way his fingers lazily traced circles into your hip until everything faded into darkness.

You wake up to sunlight slipping through the curtains, golden and soft, warming your skin. The bed smells like him—clean and musky, something uniquely Soobin. His arm is still draped over your waist, heavy and possessive, fingers curled slightly like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

You shift slightly, your body sore in ways that make heat curl in your stomach. That definitely happened.

A low, sleepy hum comes from behind you. "Mmm, morning." Soobin’s voice is rough, thick with sleep. He tightens his hold, nuzzling into your neck. "Where do you think you’re going?"

You let out a soft laugh. "Nowhere."

"Good." He presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder, his lips warm and slow, like he’s savoring the moment. "Stay right here."

You roll over to face him, and god—he looks unfairly good in the morning. Tousled hair, drowsy eyes, lips still slightly swollen from last night. He blinks down at you, then smirks. "You look wrecked."

"Whose fault is that?" you mumble, stretching.

"Mine." He grins, completely unapologetic. "And I’d do it again."

Your cheeks heat, but before you can reply, Soobin rolls on top of you, caging you in effortlessly. His weight is comforting, his bare skin warm against yours.

"What are you doing?" you ask, even though you already know.

"Making sure you don’t regret it." He brushes his nose against yours, voice still thick with sleep, but his hands are already moving, slow and teasing. "And if you don’t, then I think I have some unfinished business with you, sweetheart."

It’s practically lunchtime when you and Soobin finally decide to leave the bed. Your body aches in the best way possible, but more importantly—your stomach aches for actual food.

You call for delivery, and right in front of you, like fate, they drop off food from your favorite restaurant just a few blocks away. Perfect.

Soobin busies himself preparing the table, setting out plates, pouring water into glasses, smoothing out the tablecloth like this is something the two of you do all the time. Like he belongs here. Like this isn’t completely new and terrifying.

Everything is so domestic, so effortless—it almost scares you.

You watch him for a moment before blurting out, "Soob, you’re truly an idiot."

He freezes mid-reach for the utensils, turning to look at you, confused. "Huh?"

You inhale sharply, then murmur, "We didn’t use protection last night… or today."

Soobin’s eyes widen. "Fuck." He looks absolutely stricken, like the realization just knocked the air out of his lungs. "Oh my god, I was too focused on— I mean, I was so into you that I just—fuck."

You cross your arms, watching him spiral.

"Babe, I swear, I’m clean." His voice is urgent now, panicked. "I got tested two weeks ago—I think I still have the document on my phone. You can check—"

You can’t help it—you laugh. "Lucky for you, I’m on birth control."

Soobin sags in relief, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Jesus." Then, his expression shifts to something more serious, his brows knitting together. "This is a thing for two—I should have been more responsible. I’m sorry."

You step closer, poking his chest. "Damn right you should have been."

His lips quirk into a sheepish smile. "I’ll make it up to you."

You raise an eyebrow. "How?"

Soobin leans down, voice dropping, teasing, "Well… I could start by feeding you before you get grumpy."

You roll your eyes but let him press a kiss to your forehead anyway. The moment should feel awkward, heavy even, but instead, it feels warm. Familiar.

You don’t even think before you say it. The words just spill out as you sit across from him at the table, food untouched between you.

"We need to talk."

Soobin looks up immediately, jaw tightening like he’s already bracing for the worst. His fingers tighten around his chopsticks, but he doesn’t interrupt.

Before you can even gather your thoughts, he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Before you say anything, I know." His voice is quieter now, a little rough. "I know how hard it was for you back then."

You open your mouth, but he keeps going.

"Babe, I didn’t pay attention to you."* His eyes flicker with regret, dark and heavy with memories that still linger between you. "And I am so sorry. But I didn’t have the time back then—I had just made it into university, and I was juggling a full-on trainee schedule. I barely had a second to breathe."*

He looks down at his hands like he can barely stand to face you.

"At the time, I didn’t understand why you made such a fuss. I thought you were overreacting. But looking back… fuck, I was selfish. I was spending fourteen hours a day training, barely sleeping, and the little time I had left, I should have given to you."

His voice cracks, and when he looks up, his eyes are shining with something raw. "You were at university too, just as busy, and still… you made time for me. You always made time for me. You’d cook my meals, check up on me, make sure I ate something even when I got home at 2 AM—and I took you for granted."

Your heart clenches painfully.

"I will always be deeply sorry for that," Soobin continues, his throat bobbing as he swallows. "I should’ve been better. I should’ve been there for you like you were for me."

His hand reaches out across the table, tentative, fingers brushing against yours.

"But I never stopped loving you. Not even once."

Silence stretches between you. The weight of his words sinks into your skin, deep and unshakable.

It would be so easy to let that be enough—to fall back into him completely, to pretend the past doesn’t matter.

But it does.

So you take a breath, steadying yourself, and finally, finally, you start to say everything you’ve been holding in for years.

"You really hurt me, Soobin." Your voice is quiet, but steady. "I don’t think you ever realized how lonely I felt back then. It wasn’t just that you were busy—it was that I felt like I didn’t exist to you anymore."

He flinches, like the words hit him straight in the chest.

"I’d wait for you. Every night, I’d wait. I’d cook you something, even if I knew you’d barely touch it. I’d leave you messages, even if I knew you wouldn’t answer until hours later. And I told myself it was fine. That I could handle it. That I was just being selfish for wanting more of you."

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. "But it wasn’t fine. And I wasn’t selfish. I just wanted to be with you."

Soobin grips your hand tighter. "I know. I know, and I was a fucking idiot. I don’t think I really let myself see how much it was affecting you. I was so focused on surviving every day that I just… I don’t know. I thought you’d always be there. And that was unfair of me."

He swipes a hand down his face, exhaling shakily. "I can’t change what I did back then. I can’t undo the times I hurt you. But if you’ll let me—if you still want this—I swear I’ll spend every day making up for it."

Your chest tightens.

The truth is, you never stopped wanting him.

And maybe that’s the most terrifying part of all.

You squeeze his hand. "I’m still scared, Soobin. I don’t know if things will be different this time."

"They will be." His voice is firm, certain. "Because I’m different. And if you give me the chance, I’ll prove it to you."

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you watch the way his fingers tighten around yours like he’s scared you’ll slip through them again. You watch the way he looks at you—like you’re something he refuses to take for granted ever again.

"For the record," Soobin starts, voice quieter now, steadier, "my career will not be a problem anymore."

Your breath catches, but you let him speak.

"I don’t want to hide you. I never did, and I won’t—not unless you’re uncomfortable with how public it’s going to get. If you are, then I swear I’ll respect that. But me? I will always stand for you."

His fingers tighten around yours, warm and firm, like an unspoken promise.

"I will always be there from now on." His voice wavers just slightly. "I should’ve been there before, but I wasn’t. I don’t deserve you after all the ways I hurt you… but I love you, and I want to make you so fucking happy, babe."

A lump rises in your throat.

"You’re the only reason I keep working so hard," he continues. "Every day, I push myself so I can prove that it was all worth it. But the thing is… none of it means anything without you."

Your heart stutters.

"I have everything I ever dreamed of, but I don’t have the one thing I want most." He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your knuckles. "You."

The word sinks deep, heavy with meaning.

You exhale shakily, watching him. Soobin—your Soobin—who once felt like a memory you had to let go of, is here, right in front of you, holding on like he’s terrified you’ll slip away again.

"Do you mean it?" You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

His brows furrow like the question physically pains him. "Of course I do. I’d never say it if I didn’t."

You hesitate, searching his face for any sign of doubt, any hesitation. But there’s none. Just unwavering determination, just love—raw and unshaken.

Soobin lifts his free hand, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. "Give me the chance to make it up to you. Let me prove to you that I can be the man you deserve."

You don’t realize you’re leaning into his touch until your eyes flutter shut.

And then, all of a sudden, Soobin is kissing you.

It’s not rushed, not desperate—just sweet, meaningful. The kind of kiss that says more than words ever could. His lips press against yours with a quiet reverence, like he’s savoring the moment, memorizing the feel of you. Like he’s afraid of letting go.

When he pulls back, he doesn’t go far. His forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

"Could you be my girlfriend?" His voice is barely above a whisper, hesitant, hopeful.

Your eyes flutter open, meeting his gaze—soft yet so intense, like he’s holding onto every second.

"I can make my company release a statement," he murmurs, pressing a lingering peck on the tip of your nose. "They can say that I’m very much taken. That I belong to you."

Your breath catches, but Soobin isn’t finished.

"I have an event coming up—a fancy, over-the-top party, filled with industry elites, idols, actors, CEOs. Everyone who’s someone will be there." He swallows, brushing his fingers down your arm. "I can introduce you to the world."

Your heart pounds.

"You don’t have to," he adds quickly, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. "I know this isn’t easy, and if you don’t want that kind of attention, I’ll keep us private. But I don’t want to hide you. Not anymore. I want everyone to know that you’re mine, and that I—" He exhales shakily, eyes glistening with something raw. "That I’m yours."

Your lips part, but words don’t come.

Soobin doesn’t rush you. He just waits, watching you like your answer is the most important thing in the world. And to him, it probably is.

You take a breath, steadying yourself as Soobin watches you with hopeful, expectant eyes. The weight of his words lingers between you, thick with meaning, with promise.

"Yes," you finally say, your voice soft but sure. "I want to be your girlfriend."

Soobin's entire face lights up, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly, like he's grounding himself in the moment—like he can’t believe this is real.

You exhale a small laugh, shaking your head. "I don’t love the attention, and I know the media follows you everywhere... but if you want to release the statement, you can. I just—" You hesitate, chewing on your lip. "I don’t know about the party though."

His eyes search yours, carefully gauging your comfort. "We don’t have to go," he assures you, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against your palm. "I don’t want you to feel pressured, babe. If you’re not ready, we’ll do things your way. The world can wait."

You smile, warmth blooming in your chest. "You’d really be okay with that?"

Soobin chuckles, tilting his head. "I waited this long to have you again. What’s a little more waiting?"

His words make your heart clench, and before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s soft, full of quiet gratitude.

Soobin sighs into it, his hands finding your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. "God, I love you," he breathes against your lips. "I’ll do this right this time."

And you believe him.

When Yeonjun finds out, it’s messy.

There’s yelling. A lot of it.

"How the hell did this happen, and I didn’t notice?!" Yeonjun practically explodes, his voice bouncing off the walls. His expression is a mix of pure disbelief and mild betrayal, his hands flying through his hair like he’s on the verge of losing his mind.

Then, in the middle of his outburst, realization hits. His mouth clamps shut, and his face shifts from outrage to something quieter—understanding.

Of course, he didn’t notice.

He wasn’t here.

He was studying in the U.S. when everything went down. He missed it. All of it.

His gaze flickers between you and Soobin, and for a long, drawn-out moment, it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. Then, without warning, his eyes lock onto Soobin’s with a silent threat—If she ends up hurt, I’ll make sure you regret it.

Soobin swallows thickly.

But then—almost unexpectedly—Yeonjun smiles.

It’s not exactly a warm, welcoming grin, but it’s something. A reluctant acceptance, maybe. A begrudging fine, but if you screw this up, I will personally end your life.

Soobin lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, tension leaving his shoulders.

And then it clicks.

A memory. A conversation. Something that doesn’t make sense.

His brows furrow, and he turns to you, completely thrown. "Babe... that day at the wedding… did you say something to Yeonjun about us earlier?"

You blink at him, confused. "Huh?"

"Taehyun told me he overheard you talking to Yeonjun about us.*"

Your face scrunches in confusion. "That never happened."

Soobin freezes. "What?"

"I never talked to Yeonjun about us before everything happened. Not at the wedding. Not before it. Never."

The realization crashes down like a ton of bricks.

"He probably lied to you," you murmur.

Soobin’s eye twitches.

Oh.

Oh, he’s gonna kill Taehyun.

And then, after that, he’s going to buy him one of those weird torture-looking gym machines he’s always obsessing over. That’ll shut him up.

Thank fucking god for Taehyun.

Let me know what you think about this hehe :D

[makeyoumine69]

valentines with patrick pls but it ends with patrick being miserable 🙏

Perfect

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Can love truly conquer inner demons, or does walking away become the bravest Valentine’s gift of all?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Implied smut and a lot of angst.

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [MY IMAGINES AND SHORT REQUESTS].

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂: My Darkest Days—Perfect💌

𝐀/𝐍: I want to wish everyone a happy Valentine's Day! Never stop believing in love! And thank you so much for this request because it fits my current mood a lot!💔

The more Patrick got to know you, the more he realized how pure-hearted and kind you were, literally perfect. And at some point he couldn't stand it anymore, because how could you be so perfect? Even the way you laughed was perfect and your smile was as bright as a summer day in New York. The very day the two of you met. And somehow, Bateman knew from the beginning that your presence in his life would change everything, including himself, and he was not ready or happy for that.

But the moment you opened the window in the dark room, you couldn't blame the light coming in and eliminating everything around you, because that's how things work in our world. Simple physical laws against which we are all helpless. And every single second that Patrick was thinking about why he couldn't hurt you physically or mentally, he was suffering from the stabbing pain in his chest, as if his heart was locked in the chains of molten iron.

The man was trying to find an answer that simply didn't exist.

Finally, in desperation, Bateman even considered asking you this question—what was so special about you? Besides the fact that you were just perfect for him? And maybe for the world? But every time he tried to question you, the two of you ended up lost in the fire of passion that you couldn't control, not that you really wanted to control it. Those raw, vivid emotions soon became his most addictive drug because he could finally feel himself alive. The intimacy he despised became a need he couldn't live without, and he was so damn grateful to you that you didn't see it as his weakness. You were just being yourself, accepting him as he was.

But when the woman loved a man and the man loved a woman, but in his twisted way, it couldn't be easy, even though Patrick really tried to make it work. He just knew that one day his own rage would take over and he'd kill you—never in his life did he feel so disgusted than when he imagined your blood on his hands. And it was weird as hell.

"...and we are going to have a little kitten," you murmured, sitting next to Patrick on the warm carpet by the fireplace. "Oh God, I never asked if you even like cats..."

Trapped in his thoughts, Patrick didn't seem to notice your small talk, but when you put your head on his shoulder, he flinched a little, but didn't push you away. "I, uh, never really thought about it," he replied, looking at you. "Tell me something, darling. Are you happy here?"

With a broad smile, you giggled and hugged his arm. "Of course I am happy! Spending Valentine's Day not anywhere but in Aspen seems like a dream!"

"Dream?"

"Yes, very much like a dream," you added, glancing back at him with your doe eyes, where the fire sparks were glimmering. "I know it doesn't seem like much to you. But to me it's like a winter fairytale come true."

Bateman hummed and instinctively pecked your forehead, then your temple, until his warm lips found yours; you didn't hesitate and kissed him back, hugging his strong neck and brushing his slicked-back hair a little. There was something desperate about the way the man held you in his embrace, but you overlooked it, unable to think of anything but the heat radiating from his sturdy body.

"I must say, you always have the best way with words," he whispered into your neck before nipping at your sensitive skin, sending little shivers through your slightly trembling form. "And I like it."

You couldn't stop yourself from laughing when Patrick rubbed his nose against your neck and unintentionally tickled you. "Uh, Patrick!" You snickered and turned away from him. "Too many compliments from you today. Did something happen?"

Silence fell over the spacious room, only the faint ticking of the fireplace could be heard for a while before Bateman pulled you onto his lap and pressed you against his chest so you could hear his steady heartbeat—the soft material of his sweater felt so comforting you thought you were going to burst into tears from how much you loved this man. 

"No, nothing happened," he finally replied, stroking the top of your head. "Just a little nervous about the main surprise I prepared for you."

"Huh?"

"After we're done with our planned events, I'd like to present it to you," Bateman cupped your face, his lips curled into that classic boy-next-door smile that always had the most charming effect on you. "So, have you ever been to the hot springs?"

Before heading out to the best springs in Colorado, not far from Aspen, the two of you made snowmen and played snowball before you decided to compete with Patrick in strength, trying to knock him down only to end up being pushed into the big pile of snow. After laughing for a while, Bateman noticed your slightly offended look, and the next thing you knew, the man turned around and fell on his back next to you, leaving you both giggling at how silly you both looked. But you didn't care because you were lying together in the snow, holding hands and looking up at the sky, which was so clean and white, as if it was covered with snow as well. 

Was this even real?

Later, in Glenwood Springs, you found out that there were almost only two of you, and that privacy helped a lot when you were swimming naked in the hot springs, exhaling the white steam because the temperature around you was quite low. 

Skin against skin, his eager lips on yours, drowning out all the little moans that tried to escape your trembling throat as he rubbed your swollen folds while you were both still submerged in the water. You wanted to claw at his skin, leaning on his shoulders and throwing your head back to give him more space as he kissed you here and there. 

Patrick, mmhm, please, don’t stop.

The man longed to etch those words into his mind, along with the intoxicating sensation of owning you in every possible way. And if your soul could be touched, he could swear he would touch it with a tenderness he had never known before. Because finding someone with a pure soul was something so rare these days. Something almost surreal. Something Bateman secretly thirsted for, but realized too late.

When you came back to Aspen to the luxurious winter house he rented, you spent a dear hour reading The Great Gatsby and even though Patrick kept commenting on how stupid and pathetic it was of Gatsby to try to impress an arrogant bitch like Daisy, you both enjoyed the evening anyway because you could listen to him read the passages forever—his voice was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Still, you never really confessed it to him, thinking he would call you silly and... too romantic? Too emotional?

Emotions, emotions, emotions.

Having sex with someone doesn't mean you have feelings for them. Loving someone doesn't always mean it will last forever. Only losing someone feels like something permanent. And Patrick couldn't let that happen.

When you were busy cooking something for dinner, Bateman literally came out of nowhere, hugged you from behind, and inhaled your scent with his eyes closed. Every little detail of you mattered, every little thing—the way you exhaled in surprise, almost jumping up, and the way you were embarrassed when he slipped his hands under your top to tease your nipples, making them hard and sensitive. And as the pot slowly simmered on the small fire, you both worshipped each other, giving everything you had, until Patrick reached his limit and lifted you up only to place you on the kitchen counter, wiping everything from its surface. Almost immediately, without wasting a second, the man began to undo your pants, kneading your breasts and leaving wet trails of kisses along your belly, and when he reached your mound, he nuzzled against it and you could swear you saw his eyes shimmer, but not from fire or anything. 

Were those tears?

…

You kept asking yourself the same question a month later. 

How many times did you read the notebook he gave you as his "main suprise" for Valentine's Day? The gift that unintentionally broke your heart and made you doubt if you could ever fall in love again. Holding a small notebook in your hands, you opened it and traced a finger along his somewhat chaotic handwriting, then the little doodles he made, until you turned several pages and stopped on the last one, where a beautiful doodle of your little figure was drawn. And that short phrase written in the top right corner that said 'I love you', that always made you cry, but after reading it so many times now, all you felt was a void. As if everything that made you feel alive had been erased from you in the most brutal way.

Why did he leave you like this? Why couldn't he just tell you that he had met someone else? Probably someone more beautiful by today's standards. Someone he would be proud to show off in public. Why did he choose to use the fear of hurting you as an excuse? Why?

You would never believe it. It was just impossible to believe that the man who treated you like his treasure could leave you because he was afraid of hurting you, because he thought you would find someone "better", because he thought he didn't deserve you at all. Covering your face in your hands, you closed your eyes and cried, the notebook falling to your feet. But the words written inside had already left deep scars on your mind.

"...all those days when I thought about losing you, I realized that I was so selfish, thinking only of myself and never of you. So now I'm finally thinking about you, my love. Please don't cry, I hate to see you cry. And please forgive me for everything I've done. There won't be a single day that I don't think about the time we spent together. I just want you to be happy and ALIVE. With me...that wouldn't be possible. I love you...I'm sorry. I really am."

The rain fell in a steady rhythm, tapping against the windowpane like a melancholy melody. Patrick stood in the shadows, just beyond the glow of the streetlamp, his coat damp and clinging to his shoulders. From here he could see you through the frosted glass of the café, sitting alone at a corner table, a book in your hands. You looked the same, but different. 

Concentrating on reading, you laughed at something in the book, and the sound carried through the glass, piercing his chest like a blade. Bateman wanted to go inside, to sit across from you and tell you everything—how he had never stopped loving you, how he had watched you from afar, how he had spent every day since he left you trying to become someone worthy of you. But he didn't move. He couldn't.

Because he knew that even now, after all this time, he still wasn't enough.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

[bokutoko]

2/14

character: atsumu miya (timeskip!atsumu)

wc: 1.4k

cw: valentine’s day (barf), alcohol, cussing, kinda sorta uni!au (uni!reader x msby!atsumu), slight feelings of inadequacy (reader), they kith💋, atsumu thinks the L-word

pt. 2(ish?) to 7/11

Valentine's Day... also known as your least favorite day of the year (besides your birthday, but that’s a whole different story). The holiday made popular by monetizing the idea of setting aside only one day out of the year to show how much you love your partner, with all the godforsaken life-sized teddy bears and dozens of balloons, and all the mediocre chocolate and overpriced flowers. A cock of shit was what it was—someone should not be loved just one day out of the year. 

Of course, its only significance to you was being a milestone to remind yourself how painfully single you were.

But you weren't bitter. Not at all. Not. One. Bit.

The kicker, though? It almost felt like you didn't even want anybody. The mere idea of dating someone—a person you probably didn’t even know at the time and probably (not so) secretly a piece of shit—made you so nauseous that swearing relationships off altogether seemed more tempting as the days passed...

But alas, the small, hopeless romantic peeking through the rose-tinted lenses of your heart unfortunately held out for something beautiful one day... Maybe not for a prince, but a knight in shining armor. Maybe not a man to sweep you off your feet, but instead one willing to help you pick up the pieces when it felt like everything was falling apart at your feet. 

"Maybe I'll just die an old spinster.”

"C'mon, it can't be that bad," Atsumu's Kansai dialect filtered through your headphones as you walked across campus to your morning class. He’d called, asking if you had any fun plans for the night, fully knowing you didn’t.

“There’s carnations and balloons all over campus. It looks like one of those my little ponies took a dump all over the place."

"But ‘m sure them carnations are pretty. Maybe you'll get one from a guy or somethin’."

"I think I'd rather die," you gagged.

A laugh filled your ears, and everything felt okay–what a nice sound to hear. But after feeling your heart do the thing, you quickly shook it off.

It was strange how for years now, it sometimes made you feel all weirdly warm and tingly when Atsumu laughed with you (even sometimes when he laughed at you).

It was best to not even entertain that notion.

"Well, gotta go, 'm at class," you sighed loudly for dramatic effect, "Maybe I'll go bitch to 'Samu later about my woes and personal vendettas. y’know, since you hate me."

Atsumu found himself smiling at your childish whining. "You mean ‘cause I'll be at practice?"

"Same thing."

“Fuck you too,” he grumbled with a scoff, not an ounce of actual annoyance in his voice, “Bye, nerd.”

A small smile made its way onto your face at his jabs. That was how it always was with Atsumu, ever since you two were in high school together. The both of you always shat on each other, knowing there was never any heat in your malicious words. It was nice, being able to feel safe with someone, to feel comfortable enough to be yourself and unapologetically bully your best friend.

As you prepped for lecture, your mind wandered, constantly circling back to your partner in crime. With every moment that passed, you quickly came to realize that Atsumu always only judged you a little bit with your (sometimes questionable) decisions, keeping it real with you while ultimately supporting you and being one of your biggest cheerleaders. Because all he wanted was to see you succeed. All he wanted was to see you happy.

You felt your face heat up just from thinking about him. 

For fuck’s sake—

While it was nice to attempt to delude yourself into thinking something could ever happen, you were easily able to convince yourself that this strange… crush was most likely unrequited.

This was Atsumu. Your Atsumu. He deserved the world.

And yet, you were just… you.

Time seemed to pass as slow as humanly possible: all your classes droning on, your exam sucking the life out of you, your professors assigning loads of busywork for the weekend ahead. The walk back to your cramped, overpriced shithole apartment was bustling with people: couples going on dinner dates, partners buying last minute gifts, and the occasional groups of galentines. Thankfully, your roommates all had plans with loved ones or already left for the weekend, so you had the entire place to yourself to sulk!

Turning the key and walking inside, you were slapped in the face with color. The common room area was decorated with a couple red heart balloons and… a pink “happy birthday” balloon floating around?

Your eyes honed in on Atsumu standing in the middle of the living room, holding another pink happy birthday balloon.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. Y’have no idea how hard it is to find last minute stuff,” Atsumu sighed with a sheepish grin, "and I know it ain’t your birthday, but it was pink—a-and the color kinda matches, so…”

‘What was he talking about?’ he thought to himself, ‘oh god, please shut up.’

And the epiphany came crashing down upon you that maybe you never actually hated Valentine’s Day, you just wanted someone to love you every day, not just for one day of the year. You looked over to the chocolates on the counter and the flowers perched in a vase next to them—it was your favorite everything. On display before you was your favorite dessert, your favorite flowers, your favorite person—

“‘Tsumu…” you struggled to find the right words, “What is all this?”

He just shrugged, hiding the flush to his cheeks by scratching the back of his neck. “Ya’ve been all down in the dumps that you’re single ‘n shit, so i got some chocolates, some box wine, and ‘Samu’s hulu logged in so we can rot on the couch and watch anything ya want tonight.” 

Atsumu watched you break out in the biggest smile, almost splitting your face in two, and god, he knew he loved you.

You swiped a box of chocolates off the counter. “You know me too well.”

He returned your smile with one of his own, so handsomely crooked. “I know.”

As the hours passed, empty boxes of chocolates were scattered on the table, along with half-drank glasses from a second round of wine. The two of you devolved into sharing a blanket that was definitely too small for the both of you, resulting in you two occasionally tugging on it and grumbling, “gimme.”

“Woulda thought you’d have plans tonight,” you commented as an ad played on the TV, your voice attempting to sound as casual as possible.

He hummed, feigning nonchalance as well. “I do. I’m here, ain’t I?”

You actively couldn’t stop the snort that escaped you. “Be serious, ‘Tsumu.”

“What, can I not make my own kind of plans?” he huffed in reply.

“I meant a date, ‘Tsumu. Y’know, with a girl ya like.”

He hesitated, feeling slightly deflated by her response. “Yeah…?” His voice was uncharacteristically… soft. It may had just been the alcohol talking, but Atsumu wondered if the taste of your lips, now stained a soft pink, was any better than the vino you two shared.

The air in the room suddenly felt way too warm, and you could feel your face flush as you just silently stared at him, like you were some brainless neanderthal. You swallowed, only just now realizing how close the two of you were—no longer tugging on the blanket but practically cuddling. You felt the warmth of his thigh against your own, and you swore you could die right there on the spot, melting right into a puddle of goo. 

Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “Yeah.”

His eyes lazily bounced back and forth between yours, searching for something, and he let out a sigh. “Yer the smartest person I’ve ever known, but God, you can be so damn stupid sometimes.”

Before you had the chance to fire an insult back, you felt a pair of lips on yours, the movements gentle yet nervous. It was instinctual, bordering embarrassing, how fast you melted into the kiss. His tongue tasted of white chocolate truffles and red wine, the heady mixture causing you to let out the softest sigh in his mouth. Atsumu's hands gently cupped your jaw, his thumbs gently running along your cheekbones until his brain finally caught up to his actions.

He pulled away and watched you almost chase his lips, your eyes still fluttering with your skin bathed in the soft lamplight of the room. He quietly whispered, “Sorry, I–”

“Don’t you dare apologize, you dumbass. Just kiss me again.”

And you didn’t have to tell him twice. 

a/n: happy valentine’s day to all the happy couples and all the single people out there—single or not, here’s some atsumu to feed the delulu <33

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please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2025.

[sleepyswriting]

Have a baby by me, baby and be a millionaire

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Sukuna. R

Sukuna pays to breed you for an heir

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Warnings: !true form !Sukuna, village girl !reader, Dacryphilia, Somnophilia, power imbalance, noncon/dubcon, breeding, psychological and emotional manipulation, stalking, captivity, emotional distress, physical domination, possessiveness, slight size kink

Sukuna the king of curses offers you, the pretty little thing in the nearby village a handsome reward if you let him stuff you with his cock and impregnate you

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Word count: 4.7k

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Author’s Note: Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you like this, this is my first time writing something dark <3 it is edited I went through and edited it but I’m dyslexic so had my friend look through to see if I missed anything :D

Sukuna wanting you to have his child happened by accident. He remembers the day he first saw you, he was standing by the river north of the village so he was closer to the forest. He was cleansing his hand from the blood of his very recent hunting session when he saw you coming along carrying a wooden bucket. He watched as you squat down to fill the bucket and by God you were the definition of the word beautiful, honestly he thought you were too good for the word beautiful, you deserved something more than just plain ole beautiful. Everything about you gave soft and nurturing. The gentle way you looked at your younger sibling as they babbled about whatever, the bright smile when they said something silly that made your eyes crinkle ever so slightly, he couldn't miss the way your eyes shone and your skin glowed in the setting sun. Something about you made him want you in every sense of the word and he couldn't figure out what or why. All he knew was that he needed you, to have you, to own you, to ruin you. Nothing was going stop him from having you

He quickly retreated into the woods to make his way back to his estate, the land filled with concubines. He was ready for a heir to raise and train to be the next him, he was going to have one of his many concubines carry his child but the more he thought about it, he didn’t want one of his plain Jane concubines to have his child. Every time he thought about an heir, your face would pop up in his mind. He wanted you. He went back to the river everyday to see if he could catch you again. He had heard through the grapevine that there was a man in so much debt, he would pass it on his grandchild, but when he found out that that man was your father, he was ready to make a deal with you that you couldn’t decline. The day he finally caught you, after weeks and weeks of watching stalking he finally saw you again by the river with the same wooden bucket from last time. He slowly approached you, he didn’t want to scare you and make you flee, he had to be fragile with you, you were just a tiny human after all. He slowly approached you, clearing his throat to alert you of his presence. He saw your head snap up and took it as a sign. He looked at you as he stood at your side. “What is a pretty thing like you doing here all alone? It isn’t safe, you could be hurt.” His voice gruff and husky as his eyes watched your body language for any type of reaction. You were hesitant at first, not sure if you should respond to this random man, but your mother always said to be polite “I-… I’m getting water for cleaning.” There was a brief moment of silence between you before you spoke up again. "If I may ask… who are you?" His gaze unconsciously softened at the question, the way your voice was so full of warmth when talking to someone like him made his heart flutter. “I’ll be honest, I’ve been watching you for sometime now and I won’t lie, you’ve caught my attention. My name is Sukuna, Ryomen Sukuna now that pleasantries are out the way, I’d like for you to have my heir.” He watched as you choked out a response, your pretty little eyes going wide in surprise and your cheeks warming up to be a warm hue of pink. He wouldn’t be lying if he said the sight didn’t make his cock harden under his kimono. “I beg your pardon? I don’t even kno-“ Sukuna cuts you off, his shoulders laid back and he his head held high as he spoke again. “I’ll give you 200 gold,” his voice smooth, but with that dark edge. The words slid from his lips with an almost casual cruelty, like it was nothing. And yet, to you, it was everything. The weight of it felt like a punch to the gut, and you suddenly couldn’t breathe. “Take your time, little one. But don’t keep me waiting.” 200 gold!? That was more than enough to pay off your family’s debt and then some. “Take a few days and think about it, hm?” He said as he stood up and fixed his stance, his red eyes glaring down at your hunched form. He knows his offer landed, only a fool would reject that much gold. “I’ll be back in four days time to hear your answer. Farewell, woman.” He turned on his heels before walking away, his hand waving slightly. You watch as he disappears into the forest, a dumbfounded expression left in your face. You can't even begin to process the offer this strange man proposed to you. You stand up, carrying the bucket now full of water that feels like it weighs more than it usually does. You enter your family home bringing the wooden bucket to the kitchen, setting it down gently before walking to your room. You laid on your futon your mind racing. 200 gold is a lot and your family desperately needed the money, it would make everything so much better. Was having a baby with a stranger really worth it to get your family out of poverty? You stew on it for the night but ultimately you decided to agree to the offer. You never thought you would stoop this low and sell your body, but you loved your family and wanted the best for them even at your expense.

It goes against your morals but seeing your father slave away at multiple jobs just to slowly pay off his debt and provide for his family broke your heart. He was working himself to death. You felt so helpless, you offered to go out and find jobs as well but your father always smiled and shook his head and told you not to worry about it, you try to justify it in your mind by saying that this was the only option, you would have this man's child and your family's problems would be gone, but deep down you felt ashamed and a bit disgusted with yourself for accepting but what other choice do you have? You wait for him to come and like he said he met you at the river, he stood tall with his arms crossed against his chest, he eyes felt heavy on you as he awaited your answer. "What’s your decision?" Sukuna’s voice cut through the air. There was no kindness in it now—just an edge of something darker. The red glow of his eyes seemed to pierce you. "Answer me." You shifted your weight as you try to control the tremble in your voice. “Would I get the gold before or after?” There is a brief silence as if he was pondering his answer. “I’ll give you 100 gold now and the other half once you give birth to my child. Does that pleases you, little one?” The way he says little one sounds degrading, like he’s belittling you for your size compared to his. You nod your head, your eyes watching his arm move into his haori and handing you a small red pouch. You hold the pouch in your hands as you feel the weight of your decision but there’s no backing out now. “Can I… give this to my family?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he sticks his chin out. “Don’t take long.” You nod before quickly running to your family home, opening the shoji before stepping in. You prepared for your departure days earlier, you didn’t want your family to worry so you lied and told them you were going to travel and you were unsure when you would come home. You left the pouch on the chabudai with a prewritten letter saying your final goodbyes because you knew they would convince you to stay. You step back out softly closing the shoji screen and made your way back to the river… to your new life. Once you approached him, he silently turn and started walking into the forest, expecting you to follow behind him, which you did. Silence filled the air as the two of you walked in the forest, the only sounds coming from twigs and leaves snapping and crunching under your weight and an occasional hoot of an owl. The silence was suffocating, making you wish he would say something to you. You walk for what seems like forever before finally entering his property, you saw a couple concubines in the courtyard doing chores or interacting with each other, as the two of you drew near, the concubines stopped what they were doing and bowed to Sukuna and welcomed him home. He didn’t even give them a second glance as he lead you into the estate. He took you to a room and he opened the kichō and you looked inside, the room was bare beside a futon. “This will be your chamber until further notice.” You turned your head to look at Sukuna as he spoke to you, his voice gruff. “Any questions, little one?” You shook your head and looked back to your new room only for a rough, calloused hand to grab you by your face roughly. His grip on your jaw tight as he forced you to look at him. “You are to verbally reply to me”, he growled. “None of that nodding or shaking of your head. It won’t be tolerated and will lead to you being punished. Is that understood?” Your breath hitches as you quickly sputter out "Yes I understand" "Yes I understand my Lord" he sneered as he corrected you. You didn't want to call him my lord. You didn't even want to be here. You hated him. Hated him for making you that offer, for pulling you into this twisted game. You could be home with your family, safe and free- but instead, you were in a cold, lifeless estate with a man who only wanted to use your body. And yet, you could only blame yourself for forgetting how easily you could fall into this trap.

His grip tightened around your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. The pressure stung, making you wince. It was a warning. A reminder. "Y-yes… I understand, m-my Lord," you stammered, the words slipping out of you like a reluctant confession. He smirked. "Yes, that's more like it." His fingers left your face, but the ache remained, a constant reminder of his power. You rubbed your sore jaw, the fear creeping under your skin, a slow burn that you couldn't ignore. You turned toward your room, eager for the escape. But he grabbed your arm, spun you back around. His gaze was sharp, his annoyance unmistakable. "I didn't dismiss you yet," he growled, voice low and cold. "Nor have I finished speaking. "Your breath hitched in your chest, the harshness in his tone making the room feel smaller. Couldn't he let you go just for a moment? "You may go where you please-besides my chambers." His words were a command, chilling in their simplicity. "You are to remain on the & ate. And if you need anything… don t bother me. The servants are here for a reason. Use them.” He dismissed you with a wave of his hand, walking down the hall till his body was out of your vision. You enter your chamber and sit on your futon, burying your face in your hands, you let out a sob. What have you gotten yourself into? But then you have to remind yourself- this is for your family’s benefit. You sigh, flopping onto the futon, closing your eyes. You wanted to go home, you wanted to go to your family and help your mother take care of the chores and the land. Now you were in this unfamiliar room, waiting to be summoned for breeding. You honestly hoped he’d ask for you sooner rather than later but that’s not what Sukuna had plan. He was going to let you sit and simmer in anticipation. You don’t know when he’s going to strike and he loves how it makes you squirm how antsy you’re becoming. He lets you do as you please around the estate, he watches from afar, interacting with the combines who throws fake smiles and giggles to you, he’s not surprised they’re being so hostile or indifferent towards you. You were new and their Lord has took an interest in you and not them. When they were getting a little hostile he would come out and make his presence know, watching as his concubines start behaving and reeling in the way you would tense up. He enjoyed watching you squirm from just him being near you, he knew that you were waiting for when he would take you and he was going to take you, whether you liked it or not. You’ve been waiting for him to take you for what feels like years, you’ve only been getting more antsy and anxious, and he hasn’t even done anything. He silently approaches and he won’t acknowledge you, he’ll talk to a servant or concubine you with but you don’t miss the way his arm subtly brushes against yours which makes you tense up, your heart starts to race. But after awhile you let your guard down. You start to think he won’t actually do anything to you. Has he lost interest? Did he change his mind about you bearing his heir? Once Sukuna senses that your guard is down is when he decides to strikes. He enters your room while you’re peacefully sleeping, he fixes your position making you lay on your back. His eyes roamed over your sleeping form, you were only wearing a flimsy kosode. It was the only thing keeping him from you. He doesn’t bother taking the kosode off he simply pushes it up, he wants you and he’s not going to bother stripping you of clothing. He nudges your legs apart, taking in the sight of your pussy, and it’s all his. He palmed his cock through the fabric of his uchikake before freeing it through the slit. He positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock teasing your folds, making you squirm. His gaze moved to your face taking in the way your breath hitched and your face scrunched up as he rocked his hips so his tip would brush against your clit. He wanted you to wake up and see what he was doing to your body, he wanted you to wake up and scream and try to fight him only for him to shut you up.

His lower set of arms roughly grabs your waist as his upper set of arms moves up to your chest, grabbing your breast, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipple in between them. You started to stir from your sleep, a small whine leaving your lips as your eyes start to flutter open, vision still bleary. You see this large frame looming over you, you blink to focus your vision and you start to recognize the shadowy figure as Sukuna. You tense up, freezing as you realize he’s rutting his cock against you. You go to scream but his free hand covers your mouth before a noise can even escape your throat. “Hush little one, be a good girl and take it.” You start to thrash around, trying to push him off of you and scratching his skin but it was futile, you were so small and weak compared to him. “Now tell me little one,” he ruts against you earning an whimper you didn’t even want to come out of your mouth, his eyes darken hearing your pretty little noise, he wanted to hear more. “Did it make you ache for me?” Your lips part to say something, but nothing comes out as you yell at your brain to say anything, to deny it. Your body betrays you, heat coiling in your lower belly despite the fear you feel hammering in your chest. He chuckles at your silence and at the way you tremble beneath him as he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock teasing your folds. You felt your eyes prick with tears as you try to squirm and wriggle away but his grip on your waist keeps you in place. “S-stop… please…” you plead not sure if you’re wanting him to stop because it hurts or because it’s too much. “Stop?” He purrs, his lips curling into a smirk. “I paid for you so I’ll take you when I please.” He started to snap his hips, thrusting into you at a brutal pace. “Be grateful” he uncovers your mouth and leans over you until your chest to chest. “I could have taken you that first night.” He murmured, dragging his teeth against your cheek. “I could have fucked you raw against the cold ground of that river bank.” His tongue flicks out, licking a slow stripe against your jaw. He pushed forward, his thick shaft stretching you, white hot pain hits you instantly as he stretches you beyond your limit, the tears that pricked your eyes now spilling down your cheeks as you dug your nails into his flesh. You try to wriggle away once more but he’s still keeping you in place not planning on letting you go nowhere. “Shhh, take it little one.” He cooed, though there was nothing gentle about the way he fills you to the hilt, bottoming out in one ruthless stroke. Your breath comes in shallow, broken gasps. Your gummy walls clench involuntary around him, your body struggling to adjust but it only makes him groan in satisfaction. “Fuck,” he grits out, his forehead pressing against yours. “So fucking tight, like this cunt was made for me.” His eyes rolled back as your walls squeezed him like a vice. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to place yourself elsewhere, you wanted to be anywhere but here, only for his hand to move to your throat, his grip firm but not yet choking- just enough force to make you look at him. “Eyes on me little one” he ordered and when you don’t comply fast enough his grip tightens. “ I want you to remember this. Remember who’s filling up your pussy, remember who’s gonna use this pretty pussy when he wants.” Tears roll down your cheeks as he starts to move, his pace slow but punishing as he dragged out every sensation. The worst part was your body was starting to enjoy being stuffed full of cock. He watches every emotion that flickers across your tear streaked face- pain, fear, shame but beneath it all there’s something else that you’re so desperately trying to ignore. Your body keeps betraying you, gripping his base despite the overwhelming stretch, the way he’s forcing you to take every inch of him. He groans, his grip tightening around your throat just enough to remind you that he’s in charge. “That's it, sweetheart” he murmured, dragging his fangs along your jaw line, relishing in the way you shudder beneath him.

“You’re taking me so well, almost like you want this.” He growled, his hips snapping forward, driving himself deeper into her. You let out a sob mixed with a moan that you accidentally let slip, your trembling hands weakly push at his broad chest despite knowing how useless it was. “Please…” your voice hoarse, barely a whisper as the words come out. You honestly don’t know what you’re pleading for. For him to stop? To be gentler? For him to hurry up and finish? Sukuna chuckles, his amusement sending a new wave of humiliation through you. “Please what?” He taunts, his thrusts becoming more sharper and deliberate. He leans in to your face and drags his tongue across the side of your face catching tears. His lower arms slide beneath your thighs, lifting your hips slightly, angling you just right so he can bury his cock even deeper, the new position has your eyes rolling back as you try to keep your mewls in, you don't want him to know that he's making you feel good. "Tell me, sweetheart- do you want me to stop?" You shake your head but he just laughs at you. "Not you, little one I'm talking to your cunt." He growled snapping his hips forward. "Let's hear what she has to say, hm?" The room goes quiet as his hips keep rolling, soft, obscene squelches echoed as their bodies moved together, his cock dragging along your sweet spot, eliciting a whimper from you as you try to turn away from his intense gaze as you attempt to hide your flushed face from hearing how your body was reacting in ways you didn't want it to. He grabbed your face holding it in place, making your eyes lock. "She's so talkative isn't she?" His eyes darken when you don't answer which lead to you mustering a nod, he lowers his head into the crook of your neck nipping and sucking at the flesh, leaving dark purple hickeys, you try to pull your head away only to be disciplined with a harsh smack on your thigh causing you to whimper, the spot now red and stinging. His fingers trail down to where you're stretched around him, where your body is molding to fit him. He groans , his red eyes darkening as he watches his cock disappear into you over and over again. "Look at this, little one, "he breathes, almost in awe "You were struggling so much, yet your greedy little cunt is swallowing me so perfectly." You feel shame under the pleasure you're being forced to feel as fresh tears slip down your temples. You want to deny it but you know that he ca feels the way your velvety walls flutter around his length, the way your breath stutters with every brutal stroke. And Sukuna is nothing if not observant. His smirk turns cruel. "Oh, you hate this, don't you?" he taunts, his pace slowing down to an agonizing grind. "Hate the way your body responds to me. Hate the way I fit inside you." He lifts his head from your abused neck and flicks his tongue over your trembling lips before whispering against them, "Hate that you're sloppy wet for me." Air catches in your throat because you can feel it- the slickness coating his length, making his assault on your pussy much smoother and easier. He laughs, his already big ego swelling at the sight of you unraveling- submitting beneath him. "Such a stubborn little thing," he muses, dragging his fangs down the column of your throat, nipping at the delicate skin there. "You can fight all you want, little one, but your body knows the truth." His hips snap forward suddenly causing you to cry out, your fingers twisting into the sheets as pleasure and pain take over. He gripped your thighs, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pounded into you. The sound of skin on skin filled the room. His cock throbbed in you as you started getting noisy, the sounds you were trying to keep in slipping from you as his tip bullies your cervix. Your once sobs now replaced with whimpers as your hips buck involuntary. "Look at you taking me so well," he grunted "Just as noisy as her." He taunted, a twisted smirk on his face. "This wasn't such a bad deal after all," he murmured as her dank his teeth into your neck.

"Get to have this sweet pussy whenever I want," he growls, his tone possessive, almost feral, as his cock pistons into you. Your cunt clenches around him, back arching as pleasure overtakes you. Your vision blurs, jaw slack, a helpless moan slipping free when he slams into that devastating spot that leaves you seeing stars. Your body started to shake beneath him from the overwhelming pleasure you were finally allowing yourself to feel. It was just to good to deny anymore, you didn't care that you were moaning and crying out for him in his ear. Your frame began to tremble as that coil in your belly was getting ready to snap. His upper set of arms wrap around you, holding you close, his touch strong and oddly warm. "Poor thing, you need me to cum don't you?" You lets out a soft whine as he groans, his pace growing rougher and more erratic. He was close too, you can feel it- the way his grip tightens, the way his breathing becomes heavier. "You're gonna give me a strong heir," he growls against your skin, his voice thick with lust. "'M gonna fuck you full- of my seed every night til your belly swells with my child." Your thighs trembled, slick with your wetness, chasing the high you had so desperately tried to fight against in the beginning. Your stomached tensed as the coil snapped. Your vision blurred, back arched off the futon and your breath broke into shattered moans and cries. As he fucked you through your release he could feel his building, his balls tightening as he kept his brutal pace. He let out a guttural groan as he felt your pussy clamp down around his cock, your body shaking. He could feel your slick gush out, coating his shaft, the sensation pushed him over the edge. His hips slammed forward one last time before he buried his cock deep in your pussy, his tip kissing your cervix as his cock throbbed and pulsed as he filled you with is thick cum, claiming you as his. He pulls away from you, letting you go and exiting your room. You expected it but you couldn't explain the way you felt used, you knew he only wanted to get you pregnant with his heir but it still hurt. What you didn't expect is for him to come back to you with a glass of water for you. He laid back onto the futon, the room smelled of sex. He wrapped his lower set of arms around you cradling you to his chest as he held the glass up to your lips as you drank. He stroked your hair as he whispered praises to you. "You did so good for me, little one." He said sweetly as he placed a kiss on your forehead, setting the glass aside when you finished drinking. "Took me so well, well done." His grip on you tightened as he cuddled you, he made you feel safe from some reason. "I take care of what's mine, you belong to me now." He pulled the covers over the two of you leaving a few words before he falls asleep while holding you. "Your father can't protect you like I can." You lay awake, shame taking over now that your high is faded but you also left with a craving for more. Every morning and every night he fills you with his seed and you've started to enjoy it. You look forward to it everyday, being stuffed with his cock and just being around him. And every day like routine he comes to you until he doesn't and it left you confused. You wait all morning for him and he doesn't show so you go looking for him, feeling oddly empty without. You find him sitting at his throne with a concubine standing by his side. You couldn't help but stand there wondering if you weren't his priority anymore. And seeing him with someone that isn't you pissed you off. You wanted his attention on you and only you. He sees you looking and summons you in front of him. His gaze is on you as he sits on his throne, one leg over the other and his arm propped up on the arm of the thrown so he can rest his head in his hand. He pats his thigh, telling you to sit so you crawl into his lap, pressing your form against him. You look up at him your eyes filled with defeat as you speak, "Please?" Sukuna smirks, reaching out and tilting your chin up, 'Please what, little one?”

Your eyes search his, looking for an answer, but you couldn't come up with one. You realize that he's won. You don't even know what your begging for anymore. All you know is that you need him and you crave him.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Tags: @sterzin @collectionofdolls

[bitchinbarzal]

My perfect Valentine | M Knies

summary: valentine’s day has never been your thing, but matthew has a way of making even the simplest moments feel special.

-

Valentine’s Day has never been your thing.

Not in the love is stupid kind of way, because you do love love, but in the Valentine’s Day is an overpriced, overhyped Hallmark holiday way. The restaurants jack up their prices, the flower shops sell out of roses in hours, and somehow, every single rom-com on the planet plays on a loop.

But when you started dating Matthew, you learned something very important: he loves Valentine’s Day.

Not in the grand gestures and flashy romance kind of way, but in the little things mean the most kind of way.

Like how he makes it a point to have pink roses waiting for you every year, even if he has to order them weeks in advance. Or how he insists on making breakfast because “it tastes better when I cook it for you” Or how he always, always makes sure you feel like the most important person in the world—even on a day you don’t care much about.

This year, he has a game, which means you won’t see much of him, but that doesn’t stop him from going all out.

You wake up to the smell of coffee and something sweet.

The other side of the bed is empty, but the warmth lingering on the sheets tells you Matthew hasn’t been gone for long. You stretch, rubbing your eyes before padding into the kitchen, where you find him standing at the stove.

He’s still in his pajama pants, his hair a mess, a concentrated look on his face as he flips a pancake. The sight makes you smile.

“You’re up early” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

Matthew grins, glancing over his shoulder. “Had to get a head start. Big day”

You roll your eyes “It’s just Wednesday”

“And Valentine’s Day” He turns around, wrapping his arms around you “You know the rules. No Valentine’s Day slander allowed”

“I wasn’t slandering”

“You were thinking about slandering”

You laugh, tilting your head up to kiss him “Fine. I’ll behave”

Satisfied, Matthew lets you go, turning back to the stove “I made your favorite”

You glance at the counter, where a plate of chocolate chip pancakes sits next to a pink envelope. Next to it, a vase filled with delicate pink roses. Your chest warms.

“You do this every year” you say, running your fingers over the petals.

Matthew shrugs “You act surprised every year”

You don’t know why you do. It’s just him. He loves making you happy, and he’s never needed an excuse to do it.

You pick up the envelope, looking at him “Can I open it now?”

“Only if you’re prepared to cry”

You roll your eyes, but when you open the card and see his familiar handwriting, you know he might be right.

Matthew has a game that night, so you don’t expect much else.

You meet him at Scotiabank Arena before warmups, handing him his pre-game coffee like always. You’re barely able to say Happy Valentine’s Day before he’s being ushered into the locker room, leaving you to watch the game from your usual seat.

It’s a good game. A win.

By the time he comes out of the locker room, he’s grinning, hair still damp from his post-game shower.

“You played great” you say, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek.

“All for you, sweetheart”

It’s cheesy, but it makes you blush anyway.

It’s late by the time you get home, and you assume the night is over.

But Matthew has other plans.

As soon as you step inside, he tugs you toward the kitchen, where two plates of takeout are waiting. Your favorite place—the one that’s always too busy to get into on Valentine’s Day.

Your heart melts “How did you—”

“Ordered it this morning before they got too busy” he says, pulling out a chair for you.

You sit, watching as he sets a candle in the middle of the table, lighting it with a flick of his wrist. It’s not grand or flashy. It’s just the two of you, eating takeout at midnight, with a candle flickering between you.

And it’s perfect.

After dinner, you curl up on the couch, tucked into his side. He’s warm, solid, his fingers lazily tracing circles on your arm.

“Good Valentine’s Day?” he asks softly.

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze “The best”

Matthew smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple “Told you. No Valentine’s Day slander allowed”

You laugh, shaking your head, and when he kisses you, slow and sweet, you think maybe you’re starting to like Valentine’s Day after all.

[toasttt11]

picnics

summary: a snowy valentine’s day calls for a cute picnic date with your boyfriend

fraser minten x reader

Fraser stopped the car and looked at with a smile and held up a tie, “I only need five minutes.” Fraser told his girlfriend, they were at a small little park in Toronto that was very private and no one walking around.

She smiled and leaned closed letting him tie the tie around her eyes, Fraser had planned a date for Valentine’s day but she had no idea what they are doing.

“Be right back.” Fraser kissed her cheek before quickly getting out for the drivers side and leaving the car on to keep her warm as he grabbed a box from the back of the car and headed a few steps away.

He unlocked a door and walked in turning the lights on before he quickly unpacked the box before setting everything up within five minutes.

Fraser rushed back out side through the snow and opened the drivers seat turning the car off before going to the passenger side and he gently untied the tie off her face and watched her blink for a few times before smiling at him.

“Come on love.” Fraser smiled softly holding her hand and helping her out of her car closing the door behind her.

Fraser walked her around the car and she made a sound, “Woah it’s beautiful.” She mumbled seeing a inclosed gazebo in the snow and she could see the lights shining through the windows.

Fraser smiled and hurried her to the door wanting to get her out of the cold.

Fraser opened the door for her and helped take off her gloves and snow jacket hanging them up before taking off his own.

She walked in seeing a low couch with a lot of blankets and pillows near a fire place and a table next to the couch covered in foods and flowers and some candles.

“These are so cute.” She cooed as she sat down and noticed all of three different type of fruits and each type fruit was all cut in to a different shape.

Fraser perked up as he sat down next to her putting the blanket over both of them and wrapping an arm around her shoulder watching as she looked at all the foods.

“And the sandwiches.” She gasped seeing some sandwiches cut to be stars and some as hearts, “Where did you get these baby?” She looked over at her boyfriend and pushed his glasses up for him smiling as he leaned into her touch.

“I made them.” Fraser shyly replied blushing that she thought they were good enough that she thought he bought them.

“You made them?” Her face softened and she looked at Fraser with adoration.

“I tried too, i think they look okay.” Fraser sheepishly responded.

“Baby they are perfect even more perfect because you made them.” She softly reassured him squeezing his hands softly.

“I’m glad you think so because i almost lost fingers doing them.” Fraser admitted laughing softly.

Her eyes widened and she shook her head fondly and brought Fraser’s hands up to her face realizing that’s why he had a band aid on almost every single finger.

“Thank you.” She softly mumbled pressing a kiss to each of his fingers making him turn bright red.

“Of course.” Fraser smiled softly, “Happy Valentine’s Day my love.” Fraser leaned closer pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” She happily and softly said back pressing one more kiss to his hands.

[charliedawn]

knocking on your door at three am in the rain

Charlie, dearest, I am… so sorry to bother you so soon and so close to the date… but may I perhaps inquire about a Valentine’s Day with the Hannibal’s? Please? Please?? Pleaseeeeeee????? They deserve something nice today :)

Valentine’s Day with the Hannibal Family

The morning at the Hannibal estate began as it always did—refined, quiet, and steeped in an air of sophistication. But today, a subtle shift had taken place. There was a box of chocolate waiting to be unwrapped on the side of the table. A vase of crimson roses sat at the center of said dining table, a rare acknowledgment of the holiday that none of them usually bothered to celebrate.

You, however, were determined to bring a little more heart into the occasion.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my terrifying murder family,” you announced as you walked into the room, arms full of small, individually wrapped gifts.

Peter’s face lit up immediately. “Wait, we’re doing Valentine’s ?”

Kevin smirked. “Apparently.”

Hannibal Sr. raised a brow, a knowing glint in his eyes. “I suspect you had something to do with this.”

You grinned, placing a package in front of each of them. “Of course. What, you thought I’d ignore the perfect excuse to force you all into a unwanted display of affection ?”

Morgan picked up his gift, eyeing it suspiciously. “What is it ?”

“Open it and see,” you replied confidently, plopping down in your seat with a self-satisfied grin.

One by one, they unwrapped their gifts. Peter gasped audibly as he pulled out a hand-knit scarf in deep forest green. “You made this ?”

You nodded proudly. “I did. Thought you could use something warm.”

He brought it to his face and took a long inhale. “I love it…Thank you so much.”

You smiled.

Okay. Hannibal 1 is happy with his gift.

Kevin tore his open too, revealing a T-shirt that read Trust me, I’m an artist in bold letters. He burst out laughing. “I’m wearing this immediately.”

He ran upstairs to change.

Morgan, ever the skeptic, unwrapped a sleek, elegant pen—one you had painstakingly researched, knowing he would appreciate quality over sentiment. He turned it in his fingers, nodding in approval. “Not bad.”

Hannibal Jr. lifted the lid off his box to find a carefully curated collection of rare teas. He let out a soft hum of approval. “You do pay attention. Merci, mon/ma cher/chère.”

You smiled as he called you dear in French and nodded. Fancy…Seems like he also liked his gift. Good job you.

“And for you, sir,” you said, sliding the last box toward Hannibal Sr., “a new set of antique wine glasses. Because, frankly, I fear for my life every time you handle the old ones.”

A low chuckle escaped him, and he lifted his glass of morning coffee in a mock toast. “A thoughtful gesture. I’ll be sure to use them wisely.”

After breakfast, Peter surprised everyone by shyly pushing a box of chocolates toward you. “I, uh, actually got you something too. Since you’re always making things for us.”

Your heart warmed as you took it, grinning. “Peter, that’s adorable. You’re my favorite today.”

Kevin snorted. “Wow, no hesitation.”

“Sorry, I play favorites on Valentine’s,” you teased.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to bribe my way into first place,” Hannibal Jr. mused. He reached into his coat pocket and handed you a small, wrapped package. Inside was a beautifully intricate bookmark, its design reminiscent of old-world craftsmanship.

You blinked, touched. “This is gorgeous.”

“I know you read more than you sleep,” he said, taking a sip of his tea. “It seemed appropriate.”

Morgan rolled his eyes but handed you something as well—a first edition of a book you had casually mentioned months ago.

“Wait,” you whispered, flipping it open in disbelief. “This is impossible to find.”

Morgan smirked. “Not for me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by Kevin shoving something into your hands. It was a mixtape.

“A mixtape ?” you asked, amused.

He shrugged and pretended to be nonchalant about it. “Figured I’d introduce you to good music.”

“I will treasure it forever,” you declared dramatically and chuckled before putting all of them in a bag.

Then, finally, you turned to Hannibal Sr., raising a brow. “And what about you ? Do I get the Valentine treatment or…?”

He studied you for a moment, then reached into his pocket and placed a small, silver key in your palm.

You frowned. “What’s this ?”

“The key to the library,” he said smoothly. “You now have unrestricted access.”

Your eyes widened. “You never let anyone in there unsupervised—maybe Morgan sometimes but...”

“A rare exception,” he admitted, amusement flickering in his gaze. “One you have earned.”

For once, you were speechless.

Peter clapped his hands together. “Well, this was unexpectedly wholesome.”

You beamed at all of them, your heart warm. “Happy Valentine’s Day, you terrifying, ridiculous, wonderful people.”

Kevin smirked. “We should do this every year.”

Hannibal Sr. merely raised his glass again. “Perhaps.”

But the rare, almost fond expressions on all their faces told you everything you needed to know.

Message from Author:

[the-mandawhor1an]

Searching for the stars pt.3 | Marcus Acacius x f!Reader

Summary: You could have never guessed how much your life would change when you first looked into the dark brown eyes of a stranger who showed up at your work place one day, claiming to be a Roman general who presumably died 1800 years ago. 

Words: 2.1k 

Tags: Time travel; puppy Marcus; fluff galore; wedding; we might need tissues; no use of y/n;

(further tags omitted to not spoil the outcome)

Speech in italics indicates that Latin is being spoken.

Notes: Part 3 comes just in time for valentines and I did not hold back on the fluff. Happy end incoming. (Also there might be a prequel, who knows) 

Comments etc. are appreciated

Divider by @saradika-graphics

“Hey, wake up,” you were awoken by a raspy, sweet voice, whispered into your ear as soft kisses wandered all the way down the side of your neck towards your shoulder. You felt another body right behind you, snuggling against your back and one arm around your waist. “I’m awake,” you yawned and turned your head. “Good morning,” you greeted the man behind you with a soft smile, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose. “Good morning, my love.” 

You turned your body around to face him, placing a kiss on his lips, which he eagerly returned. “What if I don’t want to get up?” you teased, running your fingers through his dark curls. “Guess we’re not getting married, then,” he concluded with a shrug, rotating his head to look into your eyes. You knew he didn’t mean it, but you joined into the discussion nonetheless. “No, that’s unacceptable.” “Well,” he hummed and nudged his nose against yours, “then you have to get up, my precious.” You let out a sigh in protest. “Fine.” A soft kiss later, you rose and got out of bed. 

It was still very early in the morning. You both had to get ready and you preferred to have enough time to prep just in case things didn’t go according to your plan. First, you hopped into shower, taking your sweet time to mentally and physically prepare you for the long day ahead. Fresh coffee greeted you when you returned to your kitchen. Marcus looked absolutely delicious in the black polo, casually leaned against the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in his hand too. As soon as you had walked over to get your coffee, he wrapped his unoccupied arm around you, pulling you close to his warm body. “How are you feeling?” “Excited,” you replied, raising the coffee to your lips and taking a careful sip. It was still a mystery to you how he did it, but the coffee always tasted better when he made it. 

“Not nervous?” he asked, a smirk creeping up to his lips. “Not at all. I get to marry my best friend.” As soon as you had finished your sentence, his smirk had turned into a full-blown grin. Infected by his expression, you grinned as well, suspecting you knew why your reply made him grin like this. “I did it again, didn’t I?” He nodded. “You sure did. Even with the same facial expression.” 

You leaned in closer, allowing him to kiss your forehead while you hummed approvingly. “Isn’t it boring that I’m so predictable?” you asked, not really meaning it, though. Nevertheless, your fiancé refused to even entertain the thought. “You know that I would never grow tired of you.” With the bald patch in his beard just within reach, you kissed the heart-shaped spot and whispered against his skin “keep some of the sweet talk for your vows.” Marcus hummed as well, closing his eyes for a second. “I have plenty more.” “You sure do,” you said as you stole another kiss. Finally, you focused on your coffee and the schedule for the day. 

Instead of doing it like everyone would expect, you and Marcus got ready together. None of you believed seeing the bride before the ceremony would bring bad luck, so it just made sense. Besides, you were there to help him in case he needed it. He had gotten adapted to the 21st century quite nicely, but every now and then, he would get stuck and you were ready to help. Additionally, getting ready with him meant you could sneak in a few more kisses and spend time with him – as if you didn’t get enough with him. 

Curiously, Marcus watched as you did your own makeup, watching you though the open bathroom door. He had seen it before, but his fascination with you never ended. Every time you came out with a hand mirror to check if you looked horrible in natural light, he seemed completely hypnotized by the mere sight of you. Of course, the first steps looked a little weird, but with every in-between check, the vision of your wedding makeup became clearer and the love in his eyes grew. “You’re so beautiful,” slipped out of him, speechless otherwise so his brain defaulted back to Latin. “Says the handsome one,” you responded, lowering the mirror to give him a warm smile. It was as if you could the little hearts in his eyes. “Come on, I’m an old man.” You shook your head. “Stop that, you’re not.” 

Just some time later, you assisted him in buttoning his shirt up and adding the bow-tie. Technically he could do it himself, but it was hard to keep your hands off of him when he looked this good. “Do you remember when you did that for the first time?” You looked up to him, the same expression on his face now that had been there all this time ago. By now it felt like it was years ago. “It was your first full day here, of course I remember.” How could you forget? Your life project, the work you had put your everything in, practically coming to life and he was there, in your apartment, in all of his glory. “I thought about kissing you back then,” he confessed. How would you have reacted to it, you wondered. “Well, you can kiss me all you want now.” 

Taking the invitation, he leaned in and kissed you a bit hungrier than usual, causing you to pull back. “Careful, the makeup will smudge,” you reminded him, but it fell on deaf ears. “I don’t care,” he growled. “I do!” A soft chuckle escaped his lips. ”Save that for later.” You rolled your eyes in a playful manner. “Idiot.” “All your fault.” 

When it came to getting into your dress, Marcus of course helped you. “You’re so beautiful,” he swooned, not able to take his eyes off of you. “So are you,” you purred. Not wanting the opportunity to go to waste, you took a few pictures in your apartment, before wind might ruin your getup or tears that would surely come sooner or later could mess with your makeup. Marcus looked absolutely gorgeous in his suit and as persistent as he was in telling you you looked like Venus herself would get jealous, you thought he looked like the most beautiful man he had ever seen. 

The way to the courthouse was short, you and your husband-to-be holding hands all the way there. The courthouse was small and just minimalistically decorated, you weren’t expecting many guests. Your fiancé lacked family members and everyone you had invited knew why this was the case. As strange as it sounded at first, they had adapted to him just as he had to adapt to the modern times. The ceremony was relatively short, there was no need to mention religion and you would save your vows for the reception afterwards. Your hand was buried in Marcus’s when you listened to the officiant’s speech. 

Marcus never stopped looking at you, and a knowing glance was exchanged when the officiant mentioned intertwined fates. You winked at him, he gently squeezed your hand in return. When it came to exchanging the rings, Marcus tugged at your heart strings badly. With your shaking hand in his, he gently slid the wedding band onto your finger and softly said “I promise I’ll be the husband you deserve, in sickness and in health. Until my last breath.” As soon as he saw you tear up, tears sparkled in his eyes as well. “And I’ll be the wife you begged the stars for, until my last breath.” This was it for the vows, at least for now. You were sure he still had a lot more to say in private, and so had you. He kissed you gently, but pulled you in close, one hand in the back of your neck. A little protest escaped you when he pulled back. “Later, my love,” he whispered against your temple before he placed another kiss on your skin. 

The party after the ceremony was held in a back room of a somewhat fancy restaurant. You had cake, coffee, lots of fun and later in the day you also had dinner together. You had danced so much with Marcus that your feet felt a little numb and you were thankful to be sitting. Marcus looked so good in the gray suit, especially in the softer light the candles gave off. The silver threads in the fabric sparkled just like the grays in his hair did. He was so damn perfect and he was all yours. Your husband. It felt surreal, like a fairytale that had turned into your reality. It felt like yesterday when you first laid eyes on him; the general. Marcus Acacius, general of the Roman empire.

While you were having dinner, he had his hand on your thigh rather than holding your hand, you needed it to eat, after all. Still it felt so intimate with him, him never breaking contact with you one way or another. His love was so obvious, so pure. Despite your concerns for him, he managed to carry conversations all on his own, switching between English and Italian every now and then, sometimes mixing the two. It made you wonder if he had practiced in secret. 

Back at home, it was about 11 at this point, you slow danced on the balcony, still in your wedding dress, under the stars, with just him and you. “I love you, Marcus” “I love you too.” 

You looked up an him, there was a sparkle in his eyes, brighter than you had ever seen before. “We haven’t exchanged vows,” he reminded you, placing a kiss on your lips. “If you want to see me cry so badly, do it.” A grin crept up to his lips. “If they’re tears of joy I’m fine with them. Ready?” You nodded and cuddled up to him, leaned your head against his shoulder. You felt him take a deep breath before he started. “I promise to protect you and make sure you receive all the admiration, adoration and support you deserve. I want to make sure you know how precious you are to me and how much I love you.” With a soft hum, you raised your head and kissed his cheek. “and I promise to be there when you need me. I’ll take care of you and make sure you’ll never miss your old life.” 

He leaned his head against yours. “I thank the gods for allowing me to have a second chance, to fall in love with you all over again.” “Ubi tu gaius, ibi ego gaia,” you said and cupped his face in your hands. And there were tears in both of your eyes, but you knew he just teared up because you were crying. “I hope today wasn’t too much for you,” you added. Marcus shook his head. “It’s fine. You had fun and I had something beautiful to look at all day.” He grinned and you shut him up with yet another kiss. 

Still caged in his arms, you turned around so you could look at the stars together. “How was your first wedding?” you asked him, leaning your head against his again. “Bigger than this. Less formal. Way more alcohol and louder.” He chuckled. You could barely imagine what a wedding back then had looked like, but you were sure he had been just as happy as he was right now. “What about Astra?” “Strikingly beautiful. She was in tears more times than I could count on our wedding day. She was so happy.” With a sigh he kissed your temple and pulled you in closer. “We don’t have to talk about her any more. I know she is happy and safe. Whether it’s in my arms or in the afterlife with our daughter.” 

Speaking of… 

“Have you ever had a name for her?” “No, Astra wanted to wait until our child was with us before we would choose a name. She didn’t like the idea of just calling her Acacia after me.” “I really like the name Stella,” you said as you closed your eyes and let your body sink against his. Marcus’s chest rumbled. “Mh.” “You don’t like it?” “I do but why have you picked a name for a child you don’t –” 

As you opened your eyes again, you saw the expression on his face go from confused to surprised. His mouth fell open and soon enough his lower lip quivered. There were tears in his eyes and you knew there were about a million thoughts racing through his mind in this moment. “You’re…” You nodded. “We are. It’s a girl.”  

[andy-15-07]

Hello, could you do a Pedro Pascal x fReader curvy CIA agent, they meet for the first time and go on a date, Pedro after the date goes home and says he found his soulmate and has a silly smile, exuding happiness

Secret Hearts and Stardust

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 2854 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The evening was unusually warm as you stepped out of your sleek, black sedan and into the softly lit ambiance of The Gilded Lily—a chic little restaurant known for its intimate vibe and artfully curated jazz background. You, a curvy CIA agent who’d spent years blending into shadows and decoding secrets, were now about to step into a light you rarely allowed yourself: vulnerability. Tonight was different. Tonight, you had a date with none other than Pedro Pascal.

Standing near the entrance, your heart pounded a curious rhythm as you smoothed down the fabric of your form-fitting emerald dress. The dress hugged every curve of your body, a gentle yet assertive declaration of self-love and confidence, a far cry from the utilitarian uniforms of your everyday covert life. As you scanned the room, your eyes landed on him: Pedro, leaning casually against a polished mahogany bar, his dark eyes scanning the room until they rested warmly on you. A slight, self-assured smile played on his lips as he stepped forward.

“Good evening,” he said in that familiar, mellifluous tone that had captivated audiences around the world. “I’m Pedro.” His voice carried an effortless charm, and even in the bustling atmosphere, it seemed to wrap around you like a protective cloak.

“Hello, Pedro. I’m Y/N,” you replied, offering a handshake that quickly evolved into a brief, knowing smile. “I must admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”

Pedro’s laughter was light and genuine. “Neither was I, but sometimes the most delightful surprises are the ones we don’t plan for.” His eyes crinkled with amusement as he gestured to a quiet booth in the corner, its warm lighting promising an oasis of conversation away from the clamor of the restaurant.

As you both settled into the booth, the conversation began with the casual ease of old friends reuniting after a long separation. Over a shared appetizer of truffle fries and a glass of crisp Sauvignon Blanc, you discovered how Pedro’s day had been spent balancing film shoots with unexpected moments of hilarity, while you recounted a day filled with high-stakes meetings and covert operations that were as challenging as they were unyielding.

“So, you work in… a field that requires a lot of discretion?” Pedro inquired, leaning in as if he were about to unravel an intriguing mystery.

You smiled wryly. “Discretion is an understatement. I’m in the intelligence community—a CIA agent, if you can believe it. I spend my days untangling webs of secrets and navigating through a maze of lies.” Your tone was light, yet behind your eyes lay the depth of experiences that few could imagine.

His eyebrows lifted in genuine interest. “That sounds like something straight out of a spy novel. I can only imagine the stories you must have.”

You chuckled softly. “Stories? I suppose I have a few, but not all of them are meant for dinner conversations. The life I lead is often hidden behind layers of duty and codes. But tonight, I’m glad to share some of the lighter moments. After all, everyone deserves a break.”

Pedro’s eyes sparkled as he leaned back, clearly fascinated. “Well, tonight you’re giving me a glimpse into a world I’d never experience otherwise. And trust me, I’m all for experiencing the unexpected.”

The conversation flowed naturally, punctuated by moments of laughter, reflective silences, and the occasional shared anecdote. Pedro recounted tales from his travels on set, the odd mishap with a prop that turned into an impromptu comedy skit, and the time he had to improvise during a tense scene. You, in turn, found yourself sharing snippets of your life that were seldom told—the thrill of chasing leads in distant lands, the camaraderie of working with a team that trusted you with their lives, and even the surreal feeling of living two different lives: one defined by duty and the other by moments of genuine connection.

“Do you ever wish you could just… step away from it all?” Pedro asked quietly, his gaze earnest as he took a sip of his wine.

For a moment, you considered the question. “Every single day,” you admitted, “but then I remember that it’s not the work, it’s the mission—the idea that I’m making a difference in some small way. Still, nights like these remind me that there’s more to life than secrets and strategies.”

Pedro nodded, his expression softening. “I get that. Sometimes, being in the spotlight isn’t all it’s cracked up to be either. You’re always playing a part, always expected to be something or someone. But tonight, I want to just be with you—no pretenses, no roles. Just two people sharing a moment.”

As the evening deepened, so did your connection. The restaurant’s gentle hum faded into the background as your conversation ventured into more personal territories. You spoke about your childhood dreams and how life had taken unexpected turns, while Pedro confessed his own struggles with living up to the image the world expected of him. There was a sense of relief in laying aside the masks you both wore every day.

“Tell me,” Pedro said with a teasing glint in his eye, “what’s something about you that no one would guess?”

You paused, considering the layers of your life. “Well,” you began, leaning in conspiratorially, “I can infiltrate some of the most secure facilities in the world, but I still sometimes struggle to assemble IKEA furniture without losing my mind.”

His laughter filled the booth, warm and infectious. “Now that, I would love to see. I can only imagine the epic battle of man versus Allen wrench.”

Between bites of dessert—an exquisite molten chocolate cake—and sips of a decadent port wine, the evening turned into a series of joyful revelations and shared confidences. Pedro’s charm wasn’t just in his celebrity aura but in the genuine curiosity he had about the world and the people in it. You found yourself opening up in ways you hadn’t anticipated, shedding a layer of guarded professionalism to reveal the person behind the badge.

“You know,” Pedro said, his tone shifting to something more contemplative as he looked into your eyes, “life is full of unexpected encounters. I’m beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, I’m in the middle of one of those surprises right now.”

A gentle blush warmed your cheeks. “I’m glad you think so. It’s rare to find someone who can see past the surface, to appreciate the complexities beneath.”

He smiled, a soft, silly smile that hinted at a profound joy. “I have a confession to make.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a near-whisper that somehow made the words feel even more intimate. “Tonight has been unlike any other date I’ve ever been on. I know it sounds crazy, but I think... I think I’ve found my soulmate.”

The words hung in the air, a delicate promise wrapped in sincerity. For a moment, you were silent, the weight of his confession mingling with the joy of the evening. It wasn’t a grand gesture or a dramatic declaration—it was a quiet, honest admission that resonated deep within you.

“Pedro…” you began, searching his eyes for a trace of jest, “that’s a big statement for a first date.”

He chuckled, a light, self-deprecating sound that belied the intensity of his feelings. “I know, I know. It might seem impulsive, but I can’t shake this feeling. There’s something about you—something real—that makes all the chaos of my life seem worth it. I’ve met a lot of people, played many parts, but with you, it’s like I can finally drop the act.”

The sincerity in his voice was undeniable. In that moment, all the complexities of your secretive world and his public persona seemed to converge into one perfect truth: that connection, genuine and unexpected, had the power to transform everything.

After dinner, you both took a slow walk along the moonlit boulevard that lined the river. The city lights danced on the water, casting shifting patterns of gold and silver. The conversation continued effortlessly—this time, quieter, more reflective. Pedro shared a memory of his grandmother’s advice about always following one’s heart, while you recalled a rare moment of vulnerability from a past mission that had left an indelible mark on your soul.

“Do you ever worry that we’re just... too different?” you asked softly as you paused at a quiet overlook, the city sprawling before you like a living tapestry.

Pedro considered your words, his gaze drifting to the horizon before returning to meet yours. “I think it’s our differences that make this so exciting. I come from a world of bright lights and constant scrutiny, while you navigate the shadows with a grace I can hardly imagine. But maybe that’s exactly what we need—a balance, a merging of two disparate worlds.”

You smiled, feeling the tension in your chest ease as the thought sank in. “A balance,” you echoed. “I like that.”

There was a gentle pause, the only sound the distant hum of the city and the soft rustling of leaves in the night breeze. Pedro reached out, his hand brushing against yours in a tender gesture. “I’m not saying everything will be perfect. Life never is. But what I do know is that I want to explore this connection—every unpredictable, exhilarating moment of it.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you squeezed his hand in silent agreement. “Then let’s take it one step at a time. No expectations, just us figuring it out as we go.”

As the night wound down, you found yourself back at the restaurant’s entrance, reluctant to part ways but knowing that the evening was far too special to end on a hurried goodbye. Pedro walked you to your car, the warmth of his hand lingering on yours a promise of more to come.

“You know,” he said as you reached your vehicle, “tonight has been nothing short of magical. I can’t remember the last time I felt this... alive.”

You paused, meeting his gaze. “I feel the same, Pedro. Thank you for a truly unforgettable evening.”

After a final lingering look and a gentle kiss on your cheek, you climbed into your car, the gentle hum of the engine mingling with the soft afterglow of your shared moments. Meanwhile, Pedro lingered by the doorway, watching until you were safely out of sight. With a small, silly smile that betrayed his inner joy, he muttered to himself, “I’ve found my soulmate.” The words, simple yet profound, echoed in the quiet of the night as he slowly walked away, each step buoyed by the newfound happiness that filled him.

Later that night, as Pedro finally reached the solitude of his apartment, he couldn’t help but replay the evening’s events in his mind. Standing in front of his mirror, he caught his own reflection—a man whose eyes shone with a mix of wonder and certainty. “I’ve found my soulmate,” he repeated softly, a playful grin tugging at his lips. The admission was not just a fleeting thought but a declaration that resonated deeply within him—a truth that had emerged from the shared vulnerability of an evening spent connecting beyond the masks and roles they both carried.

The next morning, Pedro’s phone buzzed with messages from friends congratulating him on the mysterious and captivating woman he’d met. With every notification, his heart swelled a little more, and as he sipped his morning coffee, he couldn’t help but smile at the memory of your laughter, the way your eyes had lit up when you spoke about chasing justice in a world of secrets, and how you had, in that moment, allowed him a glimpse into your soul.

Meanwhile, as the day unfolded for you, you found yourself reflecting on the previous night with a mix of awe and cautious hope. Life in the intelligence community rarely allowed for such moments of unabashed honesty. You recalled Pedro’s words, his vulnerable confession echoing in your thoughts, and wondered how a man so steeped in the glitz of fame could see the raw, unguarded parts of you that you usually kept hidden. Yet, somehow, in that brief interlude, the distance between two very different worlds had dissolved into nothing more than a shared human experience.

During a quiet break in your hectic day, you picked up your phone and sent a simple message to Pedro: “Last night was incredible. I hope we can do it again soon.” His response was almost immediate: “Absolutely. I can’t wait to see you again, Y/N” There was something so comforting in that exchange—a promise that, despite the chaos of your respective lives, there was now a space where both of you could be completely authentic.

That evening, as you prepared to wind down, you found yourself replaying the night’s memories in your mind. The gentle cadence of Pedro’s voice, the twinkle in his eyes when he spoke about following one’s heart, and the quiet strength in his declaration—it was all so unexpected and so real. In your line of work, trust was hard-earned and vulnerability was often a liability. But with him, it felt like a risk worth taking, a rare chance at genuine connection.

Across town, Pedro settled into his couch, a contented smile still curving his lips as he scrolled through photos from past events and snippets of fan messages. Yet none of them compared to the authenticity of last night. “I’m not one to believe in soulmates,” he mused aloud to his reflection in the darkened room, “but maybe I should start reconsidering.” His mind drifted back to the way your laughter had filled the quiet corners of that intimate booth, the subtle way you had looked at him as if you were reading between the lines of his carefully crafted persona. The memory was enough to make him feel like a young man again, full of dreams and possibilities.

It wasn’t long before Pedro picked up his phone once more to send a quick, playful text to a close friend who had always known his heart better than anyone else. “I think I met someone who might just be the real deal. I’ve found my soulmate, and I can’t wipe this silly grin off my face.” The response was immediate—a mix of teasing banter and heartfelt congratulations that warmed him even more.

Over the next few days, both of you found subtle ways to integrate these newfound feelings into your everyday lives. In the midst of strategic briefings and covert assignments, your thoughts would stray to that magical evening, to Pedro’s honest words and the undeniable spark that lingered in the air long after the night had ended. And Pedro, in the midst of film shoots and press interviews, found himself waiting eagerly for the next time he’d get to see you—curious to discover more about the woman who had so effortlessly disarmed him.

One lazy afternoon, as you sat in a quiet corner of a bustling café—your temporary refuge from the relentless pace of your work—a familiar notification popped up on your phone. It was a message from Pedro: “How about dinner tomorrow night? I’d love to hear more about your adventures in the field…and share a few more of mine.” You couldn’t help but smile as you typed your reply, feeling that same spark of anticipation that had made you step out of your comfort zone just a few nights before.

“Tomorrow sounds perfect,” you replied. “I have a few stories that might just rival your tales from behind the scenes. See you then, Pedro.”

That simple exchange carried with it the promise of new beginnings—a chance to weave together the disparate threads of two lives that had found each other in the most unlikely of ways. And while the world around you continued to spin with the weight of secrets and staged performances, there was now a corner of your heart that belonged solely to the memory of a date that had redefined what it meant to be truly seen.

In the end, it wasn’t just the allure of Pedro Pascal’s celebrity or the thrill of stepping out of your usual guarded persona that made that night unforgettable. It was the authenticity of a moment when two people allowed themselves to be vulnerable, honest, and open to the possibility of something extraordinary. A moment when a curvy CIA agent and a celebrated actor discovered that beneath all the layers of duty and public image, there lay a simple, undeniable truth: that sometimes, in the most unexpected encounters, you find the person who makes all the risks and uncertainties of life seem utterly worthwhile.

And so, as you closed your eyes that night, memories of shared laughter, whispered secrets, and promises of tomorrow gently lulled you into a peaceful sleep. Somewhere in the city, Pedro did the same, his silly smile a constant reminder of the joy that had unexpectedly blossomed between you. In the delicate interplay of shadows and light, in the blending of two very different worlds, you both had discovered something rare—a spark of soul-deep connection that would forever alter the course of your lives.

[antheyaaa]

"Love in Every Little Thing"

Tom Taylor x reader

The morning of Valentine’s Day started like any other. The soft golden light of sunrise spilled through the curtains, warming the sheets as you stirred awake. But the moment your eyes fluttered open, you realized something was different.

The bed beside you was empty.

And then, you noticed the note.

A single red envelope rested on Tom’s pillow, your name written in his unmistakable handwriting.

Curious, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you carefully opened the envelope. Inside was a small card, decorated with delicate gold details.

"Good morning, my love. Today is all about you. Get dressed, something comfortable. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs.

— Your Valentine ❤️"

A smile tugged at your lips as excitement bubbled in your chest. Tom had always been romantic, but this? This felt different. It felt big.

You quickly got out of bed, throwing on something comfortable but cute, your heart racing with anticipation.

As soon as you stepped out of the bedroom, the scent of fresh coffee and something sweet filled the air.

When you reached the living room, your breath hitched.

Tom stood there, looking as handsome as ever in a soft sweater and jeans, holding a tray with breakfast. But it wasn’t just any breakfast—it was your favorite, with everything plated so perfectly it looked straight out of a fancy café.

The entire room was decorated with fairy lights and rose petals, a soft love song playing in the background.

Your heart melted on the spot.

— "Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart."

His voice was warm, full of that teasing affection that always made you weak.

— "Tom…" — you whispered, stepping closer.

— "Sit, sit! Breakfast first, then we start the surprises."

— "There’s more?"

He gave you a boyish grin, setting the tray down before pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

— "Oh, love, we’re just getting started."

---

Surprise #1: A Day of Adventure

After breakfast, Tom took you outside, where a sleek black car was already waiting.

— "Where are we going?"

— "You’ll see."

You gave him a playful glare, but the way he squeezed your hand in his, eyes sparkling with excitement, made it impossible not to trust him.

The drive was filled with soft music, stolen kisses, and Tom’s fingers lazily tracing patterns on your hand as he drove.

When he finally pulled up to the destination, your jaw dropped.

It was a private hot air balloon ride.

— "Tom!" — you gasped, turning to him in shock.

He just smirked, clearly pleased with your reaction.

— "Thought we could start the day with a little adventure."

As you stepped into the basket together, the world stretched out below you, vast and breathtaking. The wind played with your hair as the balloon rose higher, the view of rolling hills and rivers unfolding like something out of a dream.

Tom stood behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

— "Beautiful," — he murmured.

You turned your head slightly, expecting to see him looking at the landscape.

But his eyes were on you.

Your cheeks warmed as he tilted his head, pressing a kiss just below your ear.

— "I meant you, love."

---

Surprise #2: A Love Letter Hunt

When the balloon ride ended, Tom drove you to a quiet, scenic park where he handed you another red envelope.

— "Time for the next part of your Valentine’s surprise."

— "Another note?"

— "Oh, love, this isn’t just any note."

Inside was a small clue, leading you to a specific spot in the park. When you got there, another envelope was waiting.

Then another.

And another.

Each one contained a handwritten letter from Tom—little memories of your relationship, things he loved about you, and promises for the future.

By the time you found the last one, your heart felt like it might burst.

Tom stood nearby, watching you with the softest smile.

— "You really wrote all these?"

He stepped closer, brushing his fingers over your cheek.

— "Every single word."

Your throat tightened with emotion.

— "Tom, this is—"

Before you could finish, he pulled you into a slow, deep kiss, one hand resting against the back of your neck, the other pressed firmly against the small of your back.

When he pulled away, his voice was a whisper against your lips.

— "I love you. So damn much."

You didn’t even try to hold back your tears at that point.

---

Surprise #3: A Candlelit Dinner for Two

As the sun set, Tom drove you to your final surprise.

A private rooftop dinner, fairy lights strung across the terrace, a table set just for two, overlooking the city skyline.

Your eyes widened.

— "You planned all of this?"

Tom chuckled, pulling out your chair for you.

— "Of course, sweetheart. You deserve nothing less."

The meal was perfect. Your favorite dishes, a bottle of wine, and endless laughter. Tom kept reaching across the table to hold your hand, his thumb brushing over your skin as if he needed to be touching you.

At one point, he stood up, reaching out his hand.

— "Dance with me?"

There was no music—just the distant sounds of the city below. But when you stepped into his arms, it didn’t matter.

Tom swayed with you, his hands firm on your waist, his lips ghosting over your forehead.

— "This has been the best day of my life," — you whispered.

— "Oh, love, I’m just getting started."

His lips found yours, slow and deep, stealing your breath as the city lights flickered in the distance.

You melted into him completely, knowing without a doubt—

This was love.

Not just in the grand gestures, but in every little thing.

Hey, I hope you had a good Valentine's Day, because I don't have any Valentine this year, it was Tom Taylor. There is a chance that I will post something else about the volume on Valentine's Day, so stay tuned.

With love-Antheya

[whimsicalwritingsandmore]

Valentine's I Love You Miniseries: Stray Kids [Hyung Line]

a/n: welcome to the skz hyung line's edition of my Valentine's Day I Love You miniseries!! I decided to change up the format this year and although Valentine's is over, I still hope these little blurbs warm your heart! I'm still editing the makane's line version, but I hope to have it out by tomorrow for the latest! thank you for your patience and hope you enjoy! <3

Pairing: stray kids x reader

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CHAN:

The night Chan met you, although the room was filled with people, all he could see was you - with a pretty smile, fiddling with your hair while glancing around. When your eyes landed on him and you froze for a second, Chan noticed how shy you became as you averted your eyes to every other part of the room but always not-so-subtly gazing back at him. And from the moment the two of you met and talked, Chan knew you were going to be someone very special in his life. His heart fluttered every time you walked into a room and he found himself being extra silly around you just to hear you laugh. And even on the days when the two of you argued, pushing and pulling at each other like two magnets, you would always click back into place because you both meant a lot to each other.

Chan knew he was head over heels in love with you. He never expected it to feel so authentic and blissful but every time he looked at you next to him - his arm draped around you while you snuggled up into his side, his heart soared and it felt like home.

Maybe that’s why it was so easy to admit those three words that night. On Valentine’s, when he took you for a walk by the river, Chan turned to you - his eyes sparkling just like the night the two of you met. He held your hands gently and gazed into your eyes so lovingly and adoringly.

“I love you.” he whispered just for the two of you to hear.

Even when the night changes to another, Chan’s love for you will never change.

MINHO:

Minho loves you unconditionally. He’s always the first one to wake up as always, making his way to the kitchen to make you a healthy breakfast. You would find him with his back turned, focused on whatever he’s doing, humming to himself softly but as you’re about to enter, he could sense it and would turn around with a huge smile on his face, ready to welcome you with open arms. It’s a homely feeling that centers and grounds the both of you. With him, there’s solace and happiness and a space where you can be your truest and vulnerable self.

Maybe it’s because he loves you unconditionally and isn’t afraid to show it. He’ll back hug you, play with your messy hair, grab you spontaneously and place you on the countertop; fitting right in between your legs and staring at you devotedly. Other times, the two of you can just sit in silence together and enjoy each other’s company.

It’s in that moment of silence on Valentine’s Day that Minho takes that leap of faith. Because when he turns to look at you whose attention is towards a crossword puzzle, he feels that homely and cozy feeling of bliss. And when you turn to look at him for help for your crossword, the shared sweet smile is the final confirmation he needs subconsciously for the three words to roll off his tongue effortlessly. “I love you.”

Minho can’t really be bothered about anyone else, it’s just everything about you.

CHANGBIN:

Dating an idol isn’t for the weak. The constant scrutiny and prying into your private life as you second guess yourself most days. It’s like a forbidden love for you and Changbin and the two of you dared to pursue it, risking everything for a chance at happiness with each other. Because when you look at Changbin, your heart flutters every time at the soft, gentle, caring, goofy and attentive person he is. Every time you gaze into his eyes, you can tell he loves you. It’s a soulful and passionate love especially when he’s twirling you around in a dance or protecting you from the back with his hands on your shoulders with yours on top. Or when he’s being silly to make you laugh or when the two of you share a meal together and he gives you some of his food.

So when all the scrutiny feels like too much on Valentine’s Day of all days and you’re standing in your apartment with your hand lingering in his, Changbin brings you into a tight embrace after a moment, reassuring you that he’ll protect you and it’ll be okay.

“Because I love you so much.” he confesses after.

And you know he’s telling the truth. Because even if the world might be against the two of you, both of you are certain that you’ll make it till the end.

HYUNJIN:

They don’t know that Hyunjin has waited all his life to find a love that feels this right. They don’t know about the little coffee shop dates to the same place that is both of your secret little corner of the world. They don’t know about how Hyunjin knows exactly how you like your beverage; a small thing perhaps but it’s one of the many ways he shows you how he cares. They don’t know about the hushed whispers, the teases, the compliments and the laughs shared between the two of you as a testament of your love for each other. And they certainly don’t know about the I love you’s. It had slipped a few times from the two of you in the moments but you both knew that the two of you meant it every time.

So after your Valentine’s date, when Hyunjin rests his forehead on yours, he whispers ever so honestly and earnestly, “I love you so much.”

No one knows that Hyunjin has waited all his life for someone like you.

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a/n: yes, this was inspired by one direction songs! I've had the albums on repeat all week hehehe.

[hwashua-luv]

Until We Meet Again

The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains of your bedroom, casting soft patterns across the walls. You lay in bed, tangled in sheets, aware of the bittersweet heaviness settling in your chest. Today was the day Yoon Jeonghan would leave for military service—a day you had both dreaded and prepared for.

You had spent the past few weeks trying to convince yourself that it would be okay, that this was just another chapter in his life. But with each passing hour, the weight of the impending separation felt more real, more daunting. You turned your gaze to the clock on your bedside table, its ticking echoing your racing heart.

"Y/N, are you up?" Jeonghan's voice drifted through the apartment, warm and familiar.

"Yeah, I'm coming," you replied, forcing a smile as you slipped out of bed. You threw on a comfortable sweater and a pair of jeans, running a hand through your hair to tame the chaos. Today wasn't about you; it was about him.

You stepped into the living room, where Jeonghan was sitting on the couch, a backpack beside him. He looked more handsome than ever, his features slightly accentuated by the sunlight streaming through the window. A pang of sadness shot through you at the sight.

"Hey," he greeted, a smile lighting up his face, but you could see the glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes.

"Hey," you said, crossing the room to sit beside him. You reached out, intertwining your fingers with his, savouring the warmth of his touch.

"Are you ready?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, a nervous sound. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

You squeezed his hand tighter, trying to anchor yourself in this moment. "You know I'm proud of you, right?"

He nodded, his expression softening. "I know. And that means everything to me."

You spent the morning reminiscing about the countless memories you had shared, laughter echoing through the apartment as you flipped through old photos on his phone. Every picture held a story—late-night ice cream runs, spontaneous trips, and quiet moments spent together.But as the hours passed, the laughter began to fade, replaced by an uncomfortable silence that loomed between you. You glanced at the clock again, and your heart sank. Time was slipping away far too quickly.

"Y/N," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Can we talk about something?"

You nodded, apprehension knotting in your stomach. "Of course. What's on your mind?"

He took a deep breath, his gaze steady on yours. "I know this is hard, but I need you to promise me something."

Your heart raced. "What is it?"

"Promise me you won't wait for me," he said softly. "I don't want you to feel like you're stuck while I'm gone. Live your life. Explore, meet new people—be happy. That's what I want for you."

The world around you felt like it was crumbling. "Jeonghan, I don't want to meet new people. I want to be with you."

"I know," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But I'll be gone for a while, and I don't want you to feel like you have to put your life on hold. Promise me you'll be okay."

Tears welled in your eyes as you shook your head. "How can I promise that? You're a huge part of my life."

"Please, Y/N," he said, urgency creeping into his tone. "Just promise me."

You inhaled shakily, feeling the pressure of his gaze. "I promise... I'll try," you said, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

"Good," he said, relief washing over his features. "That's all I ask."

Just then, his phone buzzed on the table, interrupting the moment. You both glanced at it, and he sighed, picking it up to check the message. "It's the car service. They're here."

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat as the reality of his departure settled in. He stood up, gathering his things while you remained seated, staring blankly at the floor. You wanted to freeze time, to hold onto this moment just a little longer.

As he turned to you, the sadness in his eyes mirrored your own. "I'll come back, okay? I promise."

"I know," you whispered, though your heart ached with uncertainty.

He approached you, kneeling down to meet your gaze. "Y/N, I love you. No matter where I am, that won't change."

"I love you too, Jeonghan," you replied, tears finally spilling down your cheeks.

He reached out, wiping a tear away with his thumb, his touch sending shivers through you. "Don't cry. It's not goodbye forever."

You nodded, trying to muster a brave smile, but the pain of impending separation was overwhelming. "I'll be here when you get back."

Jeonghan's eyes softened, and he leaned in closer. "Can I...?"

You didn't need him to finish. You leaned forward, closing the distance between you, and pressed your lips against his. The kiss was tender yet filled with urgency, as if you were trying to convey everything you felt in that single moment. You poured your heart into it, hoping to capture the essence of your love, the memories you shared, and the promise of a future together.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. "You're my home, Y/N," he murmured, and you could feel the weight of his words.

"I'll always be your home," you replied, your voice shaky but resolute.He leaned in again, kissing you with a softness that made your heart swell. You wanted to memorize every detail—the warmth of his lips, the way his fingers tangled in your hair, the way he made you feel whole. You knew you had to let him go, but the thought of it felt like a knife to your heart.

Suddenly, the sound of a horn blaring from outside broke the moment. Jeonghan pulled away, and you both turned toward the window, reality crashing down around you once more."It's time," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the truth hanging heavily in the air. You stood up, feeling unsteady, as he gathered his things one last time. The atmosphere felt thick, charged with unspoken words and lingering feelings.

He stepped closer, taking your hands in his. "No matter what happens, remember that I love you. And I'll write to you every chance I get."

"I'll hold you to that," you said, a small smile breaking through the tears.He chuckled, a bittersweet sound. "And I'll expect letters from you too. Tell me all about your adventures, okay?"

"I will," you promised, even though the thought of moving on felt insurmountable.

With a final glance, he stepped back toward the door, and you felt a part of your heart go with him. "I'll see you soon," he said, his voice steady.

"See you soon," you echoed, your throat tight.

As he opened the door, you couldn't help but take a step forward, reaching out for him. He paused, looking back at you with a mixture of longing and determination.

"Y/N," he said softly, "stay strong for me, okay?"

You nodded, feeling a rush of determination. "I will, Jeonghan. I'll wait for you."

With that, he stepped out, leaving you standing in the doorway, watching as he walked away. The sound of his footsteps faded, and the door clicked shut behind him.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the emptiness of the space around you. But in your heart, you held onto the love you shared, the promise of letters, and the hope of reunions to come. It was not goodbye forever; it was simply a pause in your story.

As the tears fell, you closed your eyes, letting the memories wash over you, knowing that this was not the end, but a new beginning.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Word count: 1254

Author's note: The same one-shot has been posted on Wattpad (hwashua-luv). Requests are also open <3

All rights reserved. © 2024 hwashua-luv

All works written by me do not copy, translate or repost my works without my given consent.

[sillyuin]

Valentine's day with svt (Performance Unit)

Genre: fluff fluff fluff.

Pairing: svt performance unit x reader.

Warnings: none.

- Yuin's note: This is the part 2/3 of my valentine's day with svt special. It's a bit late but I've been resting a lot since I was sick ;-; hope you enjoy it ♥ also, happy birthday my fellow Carat, take it as a gift for you ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

Jun. Treasure hunting.

He’s the most unpredictable person you’ve ever met, but it was very unexpected, even for him. Now is you and your messed shared apartment, looking for a “treasure” that he just hid somewhere.

As you stepped into your shared apartment, all you could do was gasp in annoyance. “What the hell…? Jun!”

“Good evening, adventurer” Jun said with an elegantly fake voice. “And welcome to the treasure hunting”.

You deadpanned at Jun, and he broke his character into a shy laugh.

“Hi babe” he greeted you with a playful kiss. “I just wanted to do something… Different”.

“Like what? Do a romantic cleaning in the apartment?” you raised an eyebrow. “Why is there so much… Confetti? And why are clothes scattered all over the room?”

“That’s because I need to distract you from the treasure” Jun grinned at you, “I hid a gift for you, somewhere. And it’s your duty to search for it”.

You mumbled a laugh. His antics are overwhelming, it’s a bit hard for you to keep his pace, but that playfulness is probably what makes you fall in love with him every single day. Being with Jun is always an adventure.

“Okay, I’ll play your game” you sighed, ready. “Where should I start?”

“Here in my hand, I have a letter with the instructions” He said in solemn voice, but when you tried to reach for it, he took it away from you, “and I will give it to you for the modest price of a warm hug”.

You smiled at him and after paying the due, a fun night of treasure hunting with Jun began.

Hoshi. Karaoke night.

Is there anything better than running out of breath from singing karaoke all night? Probably, doing it with a person that matches your energy, a person that puts a smile on your face. And that’s definitely him.

You find yourself coughing and immediately Soonyoung handed you a glass of water, his eyes locked on you, full of concern. However, before overwhelming you with questions, he waited patiently (on the outside) for you to catch your breath.

“You okay, y/n?” His voice was a little hoarse, but it was also tender and filled with love, “How do you feel?”

“Don’t worry for me” your voice cracked a little between laughter and coughing that quickly subsided, “I’m just… Shit, my throat hurts, I laughed so hard”.

“If you feel unwell, we can go home” he said, putting his hands around your shoulders, but you suddenly stood up, looking at him.

“How dare you!?” microphone in hand, you pointed at him defiantly, “I’m not giving up”

He glanced at you as he stood up, his eyebrow raised. “Are you challenging me? For real!?”

“Fight me, Kwon Soonyoung!”

“Okay, but if I win this time” he pointed at you with his finger, his eyes sparkling with brand new excitement, “you have to give me extra cuddles”.

Tonight you have a concert alongside Hoshi, singing along to your favorite songs in that small karaoke room, and there was no time to think about your hoarse voice. Tomorrow is going to be another day to worry about such mundane things.

Minghao. Painting together.

For him, this is such an intimate activity that enjoys by himself, however, when he proposed to spend the day painting in his workshop, your heart skipped a beat. You know little about this but you have the best teacher you could ask.

“This is… interesting” Hao said, more to himself, but he couldn’t pretend too much. “Uhm, can you please explain me what are you doing?”

“… A beach” you turned to see him with big eyes and a slightly pouty face. You could see him swallowing hard. “This doesn’t look like a beach, right?”

He gave you the most heart-warming smile ever, his hand resting on your back as his thumb caressed your back. “It’s okay, darling. You just need a little more of practice”.

You sighed, putting aside your color palette and staring at your canvas. Spending your valentine’s day doing such a mess wasn’t in your plans, and now you were feeling so blue that you wanted to run away from the workshop.

“Let me help you with this” he took your tools and began to paint on the canvas, “art isn’t easy, it takes time and effort but making the first step is the most important part. Congratulations, you made it”.

You smiled weakly and he brushed his lips against yours in a sweet kiss. Then he turned to the canvas. “Okay. Now, I'll share with you my secrets..."

Dino. Making a scrapbook together.

He has never been good at crafts but it’s a challenge he’s willing to take in order to make you happy, even if it means making a fool of himself (Unintentionally).

“Chan” your eyes narrowed trying to focus on what was in front of you, “What are you doing?”

“I’m asking myself the same thing” Chan pressed his lips together in frustration, “Is the third time.”

You tried not to laugh, but his sulky face was too adorable to pretend it doesn’t make your heart flustered. The heart shaped leaves were stuck to his finger and when you tried to peel them off, this one cracked a little. Chan let out a deep sigh.

“I’m so bad at it”.

“It's your first time, don’t be so hard on yourself”.

You looked at the collage he was doing, there was a photo of you both on the center of the sheet and some lovely phrases around it, written in colored markers. It was kinda messy but also cute, and you couldn’t help but smile at his attempt.

“I think this is perfect” you whispered, your gaze made him soften his own, “why don't you leave it as is?”

“I know I can do better, it’s for us” he took a deep breath, a bright smile lit up his face, “Okay, enough complaining. I can do this!”

“Chan” you covered your mouth trying not to laugh hard, “that’s not the glue, that’s painting”.

“What? Why is there painting here!?”

“You were the one who bought it!”

[lovesickfae]

14DWY is an 18+ game! Minors DNI!

Ren/AFAB reader

Summary: You find out what’s in Ren’s “storage room” though you don’t seem to mind that much.

Or angel matches Ren’s freak.

Word count: 2.9k

Ren belongs to: @14dayswithyou

Also Happy birthday my beloved RenRen ^_^

-

Your eyes land on the warm light that seeps through the cracks of your beloved boyfriend's storage room door. You’ve always thought it was strange that the lights seem to be on at all times, but you figured with the sheer size of the apartment he lives in he probably doesn’t pay much mind to the electrical bill. However, in this very moment -with Ren out on a trip to the grocery store to gather the missing ingredients of the dinner you were preparing- The urge to just take a peek at the room the pink-haired man always acted so secretive about, became a lot stronger. I mean, what's the harm, right? According to Ren the only thing occupying that room was just a bunch of junk. It couldn't possibly be worse than the state your own apartment is in anytime life gets too much. you'd be the last person to judge a messy room. You'd just take a quick look to get rid of that unsettling feeling you always get whenever you're near it. Ren wouldn't know you'd seen the mess, and you could finally stop overthinking it. A win-win situation.

You get up from your seat and slowly make your way over to the mahogany door. Your lift your hand, pausing in doubt for a second, before attempting to turn the doorhandle. It doesn't budge. Your brows furrow in confusion, the lock on the ominous door further inducing your anxiety. With a new found determination you reach into your hair and take out a bobby pin, still remembering how to pick a lock from that one time you locked yourself out of your apartment. You fiddle with the bobby pin until you eventually hear a click. You reach for the door handle again, and this time the door opens. You hesitate before entering.

Your eyes widen in shock as you take in your surroundings. The walls are covered entirely in photos of you. Every. Single. Inch. There are photos of you that are years old, photos that you didn't take yourself, photos that you've never posted or sent to any one, photos of you with your friends, though every face aside from yours have been aggressively scratched out. And are those... photos of you sleeping?

That's not the only thing. There are stacks of clothes- your clothes- clothes you thought you lost years ago. You recognize used napkins and cups from your favorite cafe, traces of your lipstick still lingering on them.

All of a sudden everything clicks. Violet seeing a tall guy leave your apartment. The feeling of being watched. Ren's constant personality switching. His possessiveness over you. His discontent for your friends. His clinginess. Him knowing things about you that you had never told him. Your missing laundry. It was all so obvious.

-

Ren makes his way into his apartment, groceries still in hand. "Angel?" He calls out with a smile on his face, like an overexcited puppy returning to its owner. "I'm home!"

His brows furrow when he's met with nothing but silence. He walks further into the apartment, putting down the bags in his search for you. He walks towards the living room, expecting to see you asleep on the couch. Unease begins to rise within him, when you're nowhere to be seen. He calls out your name as he continues his search for you, moving towards the hallway.

Dread. Horrifying dread, is the only thing going through Ren when his eyes are met with the open door to his "storage room''.

He doesn't even register that his feet had carried him into the room up until the moment he stood before you, your back facing him.

"A- angel?" He utters out, sounding more fearful and uncertain than he had ever before.

You turn around very slowly. Your eyes are wide with confusion and fear. Like a deer caught in headlights. Ren's heart aches at the sight of you. This wasn't how It was supposed to go. He can fix this. He has to fix this. He tries to remain calm. He tells himself that worst case scenario, he'd just have to start over. Create a new persona. Win back your love.

Your name falls from his lips again. "I can explai-" You interrupt him before he can finish. "Did you-" you breathe out and a smile slowly begins to form on your lips. "Did you do all of this for me?" You seem almost ecstatic.

"What?" A million thoughts race through Ren's head. You moved towards him, placing a hand on his face. His breath hitches and he finds himself almost frozen, pure confusion etched onto his face. You should hate him. Now that his Haruko persona had slipped up, you should be yelling and running telling him how disgusting, creepy and outright violating this is. Yet you stood before him looking at him as though he were a saint. Caressing him with the tenderness of a devoted follower. Your lips land on his. All his confusion and fear get pushed away, the only thing occupying his mind being the feeling of your lips on his, repenting him of all his sins. He breaks out of his trance and kisses you back fervently, hands landing on your waist to pull you as close as humanly possible.

You were the one to break the kiss, Ren looks down at you lovestruck, eyes half lidded, panting and already hard. "Yes, it's all for you. Everything i do is." You tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear. A smile still beams on your face.

"This is the sweetest thing someone has ever done for me." You say breathlessly.

Ren's confidence begins to grow when he feels you slowly grinding into him. A smirk appears on his face, you let a small yelp of surprise, when he pushes up his leg in between your thighs. You pause for a second. "Go ahead angel. Don't stop now." That confirmation was all you needed to continue rutting into him. You resume your movements on his -still clad- leg. The friction of the cloth only pushing you to grind that much harder into him. Ren smiles, one hand on your waist to hold you steady, the other moving all over your body, eventually settling on your massaging your breasts through your shirt. "God." He sighs. "Angel, if I had known you were into this, I would've showed the extent of my devotion to you much, *much* sooner. Your only response is to moan. He kisses you again, deeper and more dominating this time. You melt into him completely.

Before you know it, you're being lifted off your feet as Ren carries you to the far end of the room where a large desk stands. He sets you down atop of it. In between more of your belongings and pictures. Ren latches his mouth onto your neck and your hands slip under his shirt. Before your eyes get a chance to roll back in pleasure, they spot a pair of your –probably used- underwear on the desk. You let out a particularly loud moan as Ren continues leaving mark after mark on your skin. You remove your hands from under his shirt. One moving to grab the panties, the other finding it's place in his hair. You pull his head back with one sharp movement, there's a look of mischief in your eyes. You hold out the panties Infront of his face, balancing them on one finger. Ren moans, head bend at an awkward angle from the tight grip you hold on his hair. "How often have you jerked off using these?" You taunt him. Rens eyes widen, unsure of what to respond. "c'mon answer me. I know you do. You wouldn't have these otherwise."

Ren relents. "I- I don't know. Often. All the time. I think about you all the time." He whines. You feel yourself grow wetter at his confession. You take advantage of his panting and shove the panties into his open mouth, gagging him. He gladly accepts. "I bet this isn't your first time having them in your mouth. I bet you were wishing your mouth was on my pussy while you moaned and whined as you got off on my used underwear like a creep." Ren whines and nods his head pathetically in confirmation. Your free hand grabs hold of his face, squeezing his cheeks together, your face only an inch from his. "My creep.”

At that Ren breaks free from your hold with ease, removing the panties from his mouth, giving them one final lick, while never breaking eye contact. He takes both of your hands into one of his, pinning them Infront of you. He kisses you. "All yours. Only yours." He kisses you again. ''You're telling me you've never touched yourself thinking about me angel? I know you have. Or else you wouldn't be here. Reading this."

Ren continues kissing you, slowly moving down further with every kiss he leaves until he eventually reaches your core. He somehow manages do undo your pants with only one hand, the other still occupied with keeping your hands pinned. His teeth graze over your clit, still covered by your panties. "You're so fucking wet." He groans and proceeds to lick a stripe over the already soaked piece of cloth before taking them off. He stashes them away in his pocket, his face only inch from your aching cunt. "For my collection." He mumbles before finally putting his mouth on the place you need him the most. He moans into you. His free hand is placed on your hip to keep you steady.

Ren eats you out like a man starved. Lapping up your juices like water in a desert. His tongue going back and forth from circling your clit to dipping into your wet heat. You moan and buck your hips into his face. "Ah-yes. Use me. Use me to make yourself feel good." He says in between licks. He finally let's go of your pinned hands, opting to instead put his fingers to use by burying two of them in between your walls. He begins pushing in and out, excruciatingly slow at first. You whine. He says nothing, too busy sucking on your clit to respond.

You grab hold of his hair again, pushing his face deeper in between your legs. Grinding into him as though your life depends on it. Ren swears he's been sent to heaven. Here on his knees. Worshipping you on your shrine like the heavenly being you are. You own him completely. His heart doesn't beat to pump around the blood in his body, nor to keep him alive. It beats for you, and for you alone. It beats in an achingly painful, yet blissful, pace of love and devotion when it comes to you. Surely it would give out if he ever went but a second without you. He can only see, so he can stare at your divine beauty until his eyes dry out. He can only hear to take in the melody of your voice. He can only smell, so his nose fills with the scent of your sweet perfume. He can only touch, to trace his fingers over your silklike skin. He can only taste so that he can taste your sweetness on his tongue. And God, you taste oh so sweet.

His fingers begin to pick up the pace. Your body begins to stiffen and Ren knowns you're getting close. he's seen it a million times before. How your eyes squeeze shut, how you hold your breath as you begin to shake. It is so, so much better getting to see it in real life, up close. Getting to be the one that makes you cum.

He spells out his name with his tongue in his final licks, before sucking on your clit harder than ever before. You cum around his fingers and mouth. Hard. So hard you almost see stars. Your moans increase in volume, and you begin to shake, yet he doesn't stop, he doesn't even slow down. You squeeze your thighs around his head from the overstimulation and the moan he lets out his almost animalistic. His cock is so painfully fucking hard against his pants, yet he remains focused on you, fingers scissoring inside you, face covered in your slick. Your eyes fill with tears as you cum a second time. Ren finally pulls his head away; however, you're barely given room to breathe as Ren gets up and eagerly shoves his tongue inside your mouth. You happily accept what he offers, tasting yourself on his lips. He grinds into you and grunts. You notice how pent up he is and start moving your hand towards his hard-on. Before you get the chance to come in contact with it, he grabs your hand and does it for you, moving your hand over the bulge in his pants. He buries his face in your neck, breathing in your scent as he continues rutting into your hand. A wet patch beginning to form on the cloth of his pants.

You lift your hand away from his pants, in order to take off his sweater. He returns the favor by taking off yours, he places soft kisses onto your breasts. Your hands are now at the edge of his turtleneck. Your eyes meet his, your concern showing. "Can I take this off Ren?" He pauses for a second, contemplating it, before slowly nodding his head. He places his hands on yours, helping you remove the last piece of fabric standing in between him and his marred skin. His eyes search yours and he holds his breath, anticipating your response. Your eyes rake over his bare chest and arms. You drag your hands over him. "You're beautiful Ren."

He sighs in relief, he finds you smiling, eyes fixed on the tattoo of your name occupying his throat. You kiss it. Once, twice, trice. Mouth lingering longer each time. You move onto the scars on his arms, littering them with feather light kisses, as though you're afraid of hurting him. Ren's eyes begin to water. "I- I don't deserve you angel." His voice is fragile. "Love you s'much." Tears begin to fall. You take notice of them and wipe them away, oh so gently. Replacing them with kisses. "What are you talking about? If anything, I'm the one who doesn't deserve you. No one's ever cared for me like this. I should be the one calling you angel." Ren places a kiss on top of your head, like you're the most precious thing in existence. "You deserve everything. you are everything." Ren responds breathlessly.

His mouth lands on yours again. He kisses you. Years of longing and pent-up emotion finally pouring out. He keeps one hand on your face, the other moves down towards your body. Tracing the curves of your bare skin. You move to unzip his pants, finally freeing his aching erection. His member throbs in your hand as you pump it up and down. You align it with your entrance. His eyes search yours and you nod before he starts pushing in.

He pauses once he's all the way in. Giving you time to get adjusted to his size. After a moment, your hands on his back start pushing him forward, urging him to start moving. He starts off painfully slow, teasing you by pulling out almost entirely, leaving his head at your entrance, before slamming back in. However, it doesn't take long for him to lose control, pounding into you. He barely registers muttering confessions into your ear. "Wanted this f''so fucking long angel. Love you s'much."

You gasp "I love you too Ren. Tell me every disgusting thing you've done. Please."

Ren obliges without hesitation, his only need to obey you, to please you. "I- I watch you through your webcam. I see everything you do all the time. I touch myself whenever you do, I match your pace, pretending like I’m the one that’s making you feel good. God I can’t believe I finally get to have you.”

Your nails dig into his back, leaving scratches in their wake. "Fuck- yes mark me. Show everyone that we belong to each other." He grunts. You oblige and he starts repeating your name in a mantra, thrusting harder and harder in between each time he utters out your name. His hand moves down to your over sensitive clit and swear you begin to see stars. “You’re close sweetness, I know.” Ren whispers lovingly. “M’too. Wanna fill y’up so bad.” He mumbles, barely audible.

You let go one final time, so intensely you thought you’d faint. Ren follows shortly after. Emptying himself inside of you. You stroke his hair as you both try to catch your breath. He eventually pulls out of you, his cum beginning to drip down your thighs. Your lips meet again and before you know it, you’re being carried to bed. He puts you down, covering you with the sheets, then slips in next to you, wrapping his arms around you. You’re the first to fall asleep, Ren takes his time admiring you until he can’t keep his eyes open any longer. That night, Ren slept better than he ever had before.