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smileysuh · 11 months ago

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redemancy

🌙 staring. Johnny & Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “Jaehyun can go dance with you-” Johnny agrees and your heart swells at his innocence, his complete lack of jealousy towards your best friend Jaehyun, who, you’re beginning to realize, may provide a legitimate threat that your previous lovers were picking up on.

tw/cw. Threesome, unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral, masturbation, 69-ing, face riding, soft dom!Johnny, blowjobs, pussy eating, multiple reader orgasms, deep throating, cumming on tits, cumplay, finger sucking, cum licking, breast worship, voyeurism, praise, power dynamics, double penetration, spit rosing/Eiffel tower, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess & baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 11.9k

🍭 aus. uni au, summer aesthetic, best friends to lovers, love triangle, angst, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. redemancy meaning: the act of loving someone who loves you, a love returned in full

“This is where your best friend lives?” Johnny asks, looking up at the expensive building, “Does she have roommates?”

Before you can answer, your eyes land on Jaehyun. He’s standing in front of his apartment, head dipped to look at his phone.

“There he is!” You point, and Johnny momentarily takes his eyes off of the road so he can follow your finger.

“He? Your best friend is a guy?” You can see Johnny taking in Jaehyun’s form in your peripheral vision. Your best friend looks gorgeous, as usual, his hair recently dyed a beautiful shade of rose gold pink. “Your best friend is that guy?” Johnny nearly crashes just looking at him.

“Yeah! That’s Jaehyun,” you answer.

Johnny’s not the first guy to react to Jaehyun this way. Many of the guys you’ve dated in the past have responded to your best friend in a similar manner; fear, jealousy... It’s not your fault your best friend is so beautiful.

Johnny parks the car and you’re quick to jump out, running towards Jaehyun, who turns, a smile lighting up his face, eyes scrunching with delight at the sight of you.

The two of you haven’t seen each other in a month. He’d gone on vacation with his family to New York, and you’ve missed his hugs.

You’d started dating Johnny right before Jaehyun left, and in the month that your best friend has been away, you and Johnny have become closer and closer.

Johnny’s met a few of your other friends - Ten and Mark - but he hasn’t met Jaehyun yet, and you’re excited to see if they get along. After all, you can’t have a boyfriend who doesn’t get along with Jaehyun.

You’ve had boyfriends before who couldn’t handle the close relationship you have with Jaehyun, and this unfortunate fact is one of the reasons you’ve kept Jaehyun more of a secret this time around. You hope Johnny likes you too much to let Jaehyun’s looks come between the two of you as they have in the past.

Some men just aren't strong enough to let their girlfriends be best friends with a guy who looks like a model, but you push that thought to the side.

Jaehyun scoops you up in his arms, lifting you off the ground and twirling you. He’s warm, and he smells like home, a smell you’ve missed this past month.

Johnny gets out of his car hesitantly, approaching you and Jaehyun. The two of you are a flurry of questions and answers, you’re pulling at Jaehyun’s hair, inspecting the colour, and Jaehyun is commenting on the cute new shirt you’re wearing.

It takes you a moment to notice Johnny, in the flurry of addressing Jaehyun, you’d almost forgotten about the new important man in your life. However, Johnny clearly doesn’t mind and smiles broadly when you immediately pull him to your side, wrapping your arms around him. “And this is Johnny!” you introduce. “Johnny, this is Jaehyun, my best friend.”

Jaehyun’s grin has dropped. His gaze turning harsh, judgmental, as he takes in Johnny’s form. “He’s tall,” Jaehyun notes. “You never told me he was tall.”

Jaehyun has always enjoyed being larger than the boys you bring around. Even though Jaehyun is an inch or two shorter than Johnny, his gaze is enough to intimidate anyone, even the Chicago native you’re currently clinging to.

“Be nice, Jaejae,” you scold, gently prodding Jaehyun’s shin with the toe of your shoe as you lace your fingers with Johnny’s.

“How long have you two been friends?” Johnny asks, evidently searching for a conversation starter. Johnny’s not normally an awkward guy, but this situation is tense, and you get the distinct feeling that he wants to resolve it.

“Since we were kids,” Jaehyun answers, his words short, his expression disinterested.

“We’ve had classes together since kindergarten,” you confirm. “Even though Jaehyun’s a business major, we coordinated electives to have classes together while in uni too.”

“Oh wow,” Johnny nods, and you ca see that his smile is somewhat forced.

Your phone dings and you look down. “Ten and Mark just left their place, we should go now and meet them at the club,” you announce, turning to beam up at Johnny, pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek. “Thanks again for offering to pick Jae up.”

Johnny had agreed to pick up your best friend to go clubbing and celebrate their return to town, he hadn’t known your best friend was Jaehyun.

The three of you head back to Johnny’s car, you and Jaehyun chatting while Johnny listens. In Johnny’s car, Jaehyun sits in the middle of the back seat so he can lean forward and continue talking with you. You attempt to let Johnny into the conversation, but with so much history with Jaehyun, it’s clear that a lot is lost on the man driving.

Johnny holds your hand most of the ride, thumb brushing your skin pleasantly, as if to tell you ‘It’s okay, I’m going to make this work.’

Soon, you arrive at the bar, and once you’re there it’s easy enough to find Ten and Mark. Ten has a table that pretty much has his name etched into it, and that’s made possible by the fact that he’s close friends with a bunch of the Chinese frat boys who work here.

Johnny and Jaehyun quickly offer to go get drinks, and the two of them disappear into the crowd, leaving you with Mark and Ten who are eager to gossip.

Sure, Mark and Ten have met Johnny a few times, but this is the first time he’s meeting Jaehyun... and that’s a big deal, something everyone understands.

“Jaehyun doesn’t seem to like Johnny,” Ten states bluntly, leaning in to talk to you.

“They just met, Jaehyun never likes any of my boyfriends.”

“So he’s your boyfriend now?” Ten smirks, kicking Mark under the table to encourage the Canadian to show some enthusiasm at this development.

“No,” you immediately wave your hand, “not officially, but you know what I mean. Jaehyun hates guys I go on dates with.”

“I wonder why.” Ten sips his drink and you roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t start with the whole ‘Jaehyun is in love with you’ thing,” you warn him.

“I’m just saying, it’s September, school is starting, summer is ending, it’s just like the time when-” Mark shoves Ten with his shoulder, drawing your attention to Johnny and Jaehyun who are back with drinks.

“Beer!” Johnny announces, setting a cup down in front of Ten. He doesn’t seem to have heard the end of Ten’s comment, but Jaehyun on the other hand... his gaze is hard for a moment, jaw clenching. Then, he seems to snap out of it, a smile once more appearing on his lips.

Jaehyun playfully grabs your arm and pulls you from the booth so he can slide in, dragging you after him. Johnny gets in on your other side and just like that, you’re sandwiched between two massive, gorgeous men.

“Did we miss anything?” Johnny asks, looking at you and your friends.

Ten dives into the bar gossip, leaning in and pointing out different bar tenders who are sleeping with certain waitresses and other employees. You drown out the conversation quickly, as you’ve heard these details way too many times before. Instead, you focus on the men beside you.

Jaehyun’s thigh is next to yours, his hand on your knee under the table, which isn’t too out of the ordinary, he’s always been a touchy best friend.

Johnny has an arm wrapped around you, keeping you tucked close to his side as he begins to talk with Ten about their majors. You’re happy that Ten seems to like Johnny more and more every time they meet, and Mark is laughing at everything the elder man says.

The only friend staying quiet is Jaehyun, who sits next to you with a bored-looking expression on his face.

He sips his beer.

Your mind wanders back to what Ten had said.

The season, the aesthetic of summer ending and school beginning.

You’d been in a very different position a year ago.

You’re suddenly very aware of Jaehyun next to you. You can feel your skin heating up, can feel the coil of anxiety in your tummy. “Johnny?” you grab his attention and the tall man dips his head to look down at you, waiting for you to say something. “Come dance with me?”

“You sure you want to dance right now?” he asks, looking at your nearly untouched drink.

“Yes, you don’t want to dance with me?” you frown.

“I do,” Johnny assures you, a warm smile on his face, “but Ten was just saying-”

“I’ll go with you,” comes Jaehyun’s smooth, steady voice.

“Jaehyun can go with you-” Johnny agrees and your heart swells at his innocence, his complete lack of jealousy towards Jaehyun, who, you’re beginning to realize, may provide a legitimate threat that your previous lovers were picking up on.

“No. I want you,” you tell Johnny sternly, not meaning for it to come out as harsh as it does. You know you’re leaving Jaehyun dejected as you slip into the crowd with Johnny, but you can’t look back.

Jaehyun watches you leave, holding onto your tall boy toy like a lifeline as you wade into the people on the dance floor. Then, when you’re out of sight, Jaehyun turns his angry gaze to Ten, “Stop trying to wingman me with her.”

Mark giggles, watching the two stubborn men size each other up.

“You need to tell her how you feel,” Ten says.

“No, I don’t.” Jaehyun glares back.

“Do you think she told Johnny about it?” Mark asks quietly.

“It.” Ten laughs, “Mark are you a kid? Just say what happened, ask the question properly.” He looks to Jaehyun. “Do you think she told Johnny about the time she graciously let you eat her out at the end of the summer, last year?”

“I don’t think she even told Johnny I was a dude.” Jaehyun falls back against the booth.

Mark and Ten both look at each other and grimace. “That’s not good.”

“I know,” Jaehyun groans.

“She really likes Johnny,” Ten says almost thoughtfully.

Jaehyun looks out at the crowd, it’s easy enough to find Johnny because he’s taller than the other people around. Johnny’s head is dipped down, his lips pressed against yours, one hand cupping your cheek.

Something inside Jaehyun ignites and his hands clench at his sides. He finishes his drink, then stands up, entering the crowd. He finds the prettiest girl he can, the prettiest girl other than you, and within ten minutes he has her pressed against the door in the bathroom, his hand between her legs.

It’s two AM when Jaehyun looks at his phone next. He’s standing on his terrace, the warm night air ruffling his hair. Inside his room, a gorgeous brunette is asleep in a tangle of sheets. Jaehyun’s eyes scan the text message you’d sent an hour ago, and he feels a twinge of guilt at having missed it.

Baby (1:02AM) : Let me know you made it home safe!

Jaehyun takes a deep breath, quickly typing back.

Your phone screen lights up the room, making you open your eyes from the restless half-slumber you’d been trying to use as a distraction.

Behind you, Johnny is asleep, one of his arms thrown over your torso.

You slide from bed slowly, moving so you can go stand outside on Johnny’s terrace. It’s a beautiful night and the moon looks gorgeous in the sky as you assess your phone.

JaeJae (2:06AM) : Got home safe, hope you did too

JaeJae (2:08AM) : Goodnight, sleep well princess : )

You call him before you can stop yourself, and he answers immediately, voice hushed.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hi. What are you doing still awake?” he asks softly.

“Couldn’t sleep without knowing you’d gotten home, you know?” You shrug, pulling Johnny’s hoodie tighter around your body. Three stories below, a cop car drives by, the siren cutting through the summer night air.

You hear your best friend smile on his end of the phone. “You outside?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Uh-huh.” A brief quiet, then, “the moon is nice.”

Your gaze lifts. “It is…” You open your mouth to say something else when you hear a female voice call out “Jae” in a whiney tone that has your skin turning cold.

“Fuck, I have to go.”

Your heart drops in your chest, but you try to sound positive when you say, “Yeah, it’s okay, you should sleep, I’ll see you soon?”

“We’ll do movie night tomorrow,” he suggests. “I’ll text you.”

“Okay, goodnight.”

“Night princess.” He hangs up and you let out a deep breath.

You stay outside for a few minutes longer, looking at the sky. When you head inside, returning under the covers, Johnny pulls you close, burying his face in your neck. “Where were you?” he asks.

“Outside,” you answer, breathing in as Johnny’s body warms you up, his lips pressing soft kisses to your skin. “Go back to sleep,” you whisper softly, turning in Johnny’s arms so you can run your fingers through his hair, looking at his beautiful face.

Johnny gives you a gentle, lazy smile, pouting out his lips for one last kiss before he adjusts against his pillow. Within moments he’s asleep again.

You stay awake for a while, thinking about the events of tonight. Jaehyun had disappeared when you’d come back from the dance floor. What was supposed to be a get-together for Jaehyun and Johnny to get comfortable with each other, had turned into something else. But part of you can’t blame Jaehyun for slipping away, not after you’d been so clear about rejecting his offer of dancing with you, insisting that Johnny be the one to join you amongst the waves of people.

With another huff, you close your eyes, falling asleep a short while later.

When you dream, you dream of dark, handsome eyes. The eyes are not attached to a body, instead, they float in a cloud of colors, some dark, some light. You feel warm, and even in your sleep, you can feel yourself smiling.

“Jae, why are you always single?” you had asked, cuddled close to your best friend.

Jaehyun laughed. “Cuz I’m ugly,” he responded simply, although you both knew this to be the opposite of the truth.

You smacked your best friend lightly, beaming up at him. “Don’t say that about yourself.” You paused, examining his face. “For real. Don’t you ever want to have a girlfriend?”

He’d had one in sixth grade for a week, but that had been the only time in his life he’d ever had an official ‘girlfriend’. You were heading into another year of university, and the summer had been full of fun activities. You’d both been single, and this had given you the freedom to spend every waking moment together, driving around, going to amusement parks, scouring old record shops-

Jaehyun shrugged. “Don’t need one.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “I know you can get laid whenever you want Jae, but I mean don’t you want the other stuff? Someone to come home to, someone to give pet names to, and love, and take home to meet your parents-”

As you listed things, Jaehyun wondered if you even realized that everything you mentioned were things he already had... with you.

He watched your beautiful face with a smile, and finally, he shrugged again. “I just don’t like commitment.” It was true, you were the only thing in his life he’d ever been committed to, the only thing he needed. Anything else, he was ready to drop at a moment’s notice, and he enjoyed living that way.

You frowned at his words. “Is it really that easy for you to just turn feelings off? To sleep with people and just... not care about them afterward?”

“I don’t know if it’s like that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I care sometimes, I just don’t catch feels, there’s a difference. Sex can be just sex. If two people are horny, why not have some fun, you know?”

He’d watched the way you’d licked your lips at his words, and the sight turned him on more than he’d ever be able to tell you.

“So... if I was horny, and I asked you for sex, we could do that and it wouldn’t change our friendship at all?” you asked, clearly scared to meet his gaze. He could sense your fear of rejection, and it was a fear he wanted to quickly squash.

“Of course,” Jaehyun answered fluidly, his tone turning teasing. “Why, are you horny?”

“It's just, people have always said you have amazing tongue game, and well-”

“You want to know if it’s true because most guys you’ve slept with have sucked at oral.” Jaehyun finished your sentence for you, something he’d been doing since you were kids.

Mimicking his earlier action, you shrugged, and that was all it took to give Jaehyun permission. His fingers went under your chin, forcing you to look up at him, and then he kissed you for the first time.

He’d wondered for years what kissing you would be like, but he’d never dared to try, to worried about how it would affect your friendship. But you’d just confirmed that nothing would have to change, there wouldn’t be any messy feelings with this. He could kiss you now, and still have you in his life tomorrow.

You leaned into the kiss, and Jaehyun could sense that you felt you had something to prove- to prove to him that you were just as good as any of the sorority girls or Instagram models he’d fucked.

He pulled you onto his lap, hands anchoring your waist, forcing you to grind down against him. He could feel his cock throbbing for you already, if only you knew how crazy you make him. A small whine escaped your lips and Jaehyun smirked, eating it up. “Ready to see what all the fuss is about?”

The music is loud, but then again, Jaehyun’s always had the best speakers to complement his extensive record collection. You’re dancing in his kitchen, waiting for the popcorn to pop in the microwave.

Your hips are moving to the beat of the song, and you don’t realize that Jaehyun’s eyes are glued to you.

Ten was right about summer feelings, and Jaehyun’s chest is empty while he watches you.

Life with you has always been easy. So easy that he’s somehow taken it for granted.

Jaehyun wants to tell you everything. Wants to tell you that he had lied when he said he could control whether or not he caught feelings. Wants to tell you that his heart has been yours since that day you were five and scraped your knee on the playground, he’d been assigned to take you to the nurse and had held your hand the whole way there, even kissed your bandaged knee, announcing ‘all better’ to the world.

He wants to tell you what he should have told you the moment he’d made you cum on his tongue last August, that he loves you. That he wants you to be his.

But Jaehyun is terrified of you. Terrified that you only see him as a friend, that the sex proposition you’d given him nearly a year ago had been purely physical.

He thought he could live a life with you as his half-girlfriend, fulfilling all the girlfriend duties minus the sex, which he could get at any time from any girl he wanted. But now Jaehyun knows that this idea was stupid, because seeing you with guys- seeing you with Johnny, has made him realize he could lose you.

Jaehyun had originally invited you to go on vacation with his family for a month, but you’d chosen to stay because you’d already planned a weekend getaway with Johnny and the dates had clashed. Jaehyun had even offered to fly you to meet his family a week late, but you’d declined.

The whole month he’d been gone he’d been missing you, hoping he could come back and things would return to normal, only to return and find you clinging to Johnny and happier than ever.

Jaehyun’s heart clenches in his chest.

He’s been called selfish before, but never when it comes to you.

Looking at you dance in the kitchen, he wants to be selfish for the first time.

As the microwave dings, signaling your food is done, you turn to excitedly tell Jaehyun, only to be met with a solid body standing so close you nearly smack into his chest.

Jaehyun grabs your face with both his hands, and before you can say anything, he presses his lips to yours.

He tastes just like he did a year ago, and the emotions all come flooding back. The confusion, the heartache- but despite this, the happy feelings are there too. The love that you’ve tried so hard to bury is unearthed, and your mind goes blank. You lean into the kiss-

Your phone rings and you nearly jump out of Jaehyun’s grasp, recognizing Johnny’s special ringtone that the two of you had chosen one day while on a coffee date. American Boy by Estelle, a song Johnny ‘identifies with’.

Until now, the song has always made you happy.

But standing in Jaehyun’s kitchen, with both of you staring at your phone, instead of happiness, the emotion you feel is guilt.

You begin to reach for your phone but Jaehyun grabs your hand instead, urging you to look at him. “Don’t answer it,” he says, voice cracking a little. His eyes are serious and they search yours for a sign, for something to tell him how you’re feeling.

“Jae-”

You know he loves the nickname you have for him, and part of you regrets it the moment it leaves you, because you’re sure that it will give him hope. You close your mouth, not sure where to look, so you look at the ground.

“Tell me you love me,” His voice is soft, as soft as you’ve ever heard it.

“I do love you,” you sigh.

His hand is still holding yours, and he gives it a small squeeze. “Tell me you love me more than him.”

Your heart clenches in your chest and you can feel your skin heating up. You’re confused and guilty, and you feel as if he’s pressuring you, which is not a good combination.

Jaehyun’s fingers go under your chin, forcing you to look up at his beautiful dark eyes. He looks so perfect, and it’s always taken your breath away, but now, with an uncharacteristically vulnerable expression on his face, he’s ethereal.

“Tell me you’ll be mine,” Jaehyun whispers, “not his.”

Those last two words - not his - spark something inside of you and you tear your hand from Jaehyun’s grasp.

“I can’t believe you,” you spit, anger fuelling into your soul. “You always get like this, you’re so competitive. It feels like every time I’m with a guy, you get so upset that I’m giving my attention to someone else. You’ve had years, Jae. Years to tell me you love me and-” You choke a little on your words and laugh. “You know the funny part? You haven’t even said it. You’ve been trying to get me to tell you that I love you- not even just that, you want me to tell you I love you more than Johnny!”

“You know I love you.” Jaehyun looks crushed, a pained expression on his face, and you’re aware that you’ve never yelled at him like this.

“I was in love with you for years, Jae!” You feel tears begin to spill from your eyes and you will them to disappear. “But you never wanted commitment! You never wanted me!”

“I did! I do!” he insists. “I just never realized-”

“Never realized,” you scoff, repeating his words back to him. “You’re just mad Johnny’s getting my attention. How dare you! How dare you see how happy Johnny makes me and try to mess that up after you’ve had years to say something!” You grab your phone and go to the door, leaving your purse and your shoes, too eager to escape to care. You simply leave, and Jaehyun doesn’t follow.

It isn't until he sits down on the couch minutes later that he realizes something. “I was in love with you for years, Jae!” you’d said. Was. As in, past tense.

As in, no longer.

Jaehyun pulls a pillow to his chest, the one you always cuddle with when you watch movies. It still smells like you. Jaehyun buries his face in your scent, and for the first time in a long time, he allows himself to cry.

Johnny’s chest is warm and secure. His arms hold you tightly as you cry, one of his hands petting the back of your head gently as you get rid of all the negativity balled up inside of you with tears that seem to last forever.

When you finally stop crying, Johnny sets you down on the couch, wrapping you in blankets and getting you tissues. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong, he’s always very good at knowing the right time to be quiet and give you space. You’re sure he knows you’ll tell him what’s wrong when you’re able to.

As you begin to calm down, Johnny makes you your favorite tea, bringing it to you in a mug with your first initial on it, he’s bought it for his apartment two weeks into dating to show you that you always have a place, and a cup, in his apartment.

Your phone rings and Johnny looks at it. “It’s Mark,” he tells you. “Should I answer?”

You shake your head and Johnny sets your phone down.

A few seconds later it rings again. “It’s Ten,” Johnny says softly.

“Just turn it off,” you frown, and Johnny does as he’s told, watching you sip your tea.

“Can I get you anything else, baby?” he asks.

You shake your head, staying quiet.

“Baby, if you don’t tell me what happened soon, I’m going to have to go out and start fighting people in the street. Whoever made my girlfriend cry is gonna-”

“Girlfriend?” You perk up a little and Johnny laughs.

He reaches out and pinches your chin lightly. “Knew that would make you smile,” he beams, “and yeah, I mean... unless you don’t want to be, unless it’s too soon.”

You set your tea down and nearly tackle Johnny onto the couch, making him laugh into the kiss that you eagerly press to his lips.

“Wow, baby, if I knew it was this easy to make you happy I would have asked you to be my girlfriend ages ago,” Johnny says when you finally stop kissing him.

You laugh at the notion. “No, ages ago would have been too soon.”

You’re laying on top of him on the couch, your legs on either side of his waist. You look down at his beautiful face and infectious smile. He’s so sweet, so soft, so exactly what you need. His hands rub your back soothingly and you know you love him.

You’d loved him since date number two, when he’d seen a little girl crying at the bottom of a tree and proceeded to climb the tree to rescue a kitten, who had clung to him so tight it had cut his arm, but Johnny hadn’t minded. The little girl’s mother had offered to pay Johnny for his heroic deed but he’d objected, instead accepting a pretty flower the little girl had offered, which he had then given to you.

Johnny is perfect... so why do you still feel confused and conflicted about Jaehyun?

“Something happened with Jaehyun,” you say, looking into Johnny’s eyes as he strokes your face.

“Uh oh, you’re calling him by his full name, he must have really messed up.” Johnny is always so good at remembering everything you tell him, good at picking up on your verbal cues, sometimes even before you do. “What happened?” His thumb brushes under your eye soothingly, ready to wipe away any tear that escapes.

“He... it was very weird,” you confess. “I think he tried to tell me he loved me, but he did it in a really weird way, and it made me really upset.”

“When you say ‘he tried to tell me he loved me’ you mean... like, love as in, I’m in love with you. Not just friend love?” Johnny clarifies.

“I think so. He tried to make me tell him I love him more than I love you.”

“Aw, baby, you love me?” Johnny’s expression softens and despite the negative emotions you’re feeling, you still beam at him.

“Yeah, and I’m your girlfriend now, so I’m allowed to say it,” you tease, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you too, baby.” He kisses you back, only breaking the kiss to let you continue your story. “Then what happened?”

“He wanted me to dump you,” you tell him, quickly continuing with, “and that’s crazy, of course. Jaehyun’s always like this. Whenever I’m seeing a guy, he gets so territorial.”

“You two have been friends for a long time,” Johnny points out.

“Aren’t you mad he tried to break us up?” you ask, shocked at your boyfriend's calm demeanor.

Johnny shakes his head. “I understand where he’s coming from. I’m not sure you being taken would have stopped me from trying to get you to be mine either.”

You think about his words. “I’m just-” You take a deep breath, not sure how to even say how you’re feeling.

Luckily, you don’t have to. Johnny can read you, and somehow he takes your emotions and puts them into words for you. “You’re confused because this is the first time he’s told you about his feelings and you’ve been in love with him before, but you’re with me now, so it’s not easy to know what to do with the feelings this must have brought up.”

You smile sadly at Johnny. “How do you know me so well?”

“I just do.” He kisses your nose. “I can see why you’d be conflicted about that.”

“You can?”

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry, I know this puts you in a weird position-”

“it doesn’t,” Johnny assures you. “You have feelings for Jaehyun that have been there a long time, that doesn’t make your feelings for me any less real, you know?”

“Johnny, you’re perfect.”

“So I’ve been told,” he laughs. “I’m glad you talked to me about this, communication is really important.”

“I’m glad too, but I have to tell you something else... He kissed me, just for a moment, and it was so shocking-”

“Did you kiss him back?” This is the first time Johnny frowns.

“I don’t think so, it happened so fast and then my phone rang. But I yelled at him and left right after, then you came and picked me up, and now here we are,” you explain.

Johnny is quiet for a moment, then he looks over at your phone. “So this is why Ten and Mark won’t stop calling.”

“It’s fine, I can talk to them tomorrow,” you brush it off.

“I think you should call them back,” Johnny says. “Your friends are important, and this is something they know more about than I do. It might help for you to talk to them. You can go on the balcony if you want, I’ll go to my room and work on some stuff with headphones to give you privacy.”

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“Yeah, and when you’re done, come to bed and we’ll cuddle and watch a Disney movie or something to make you feel better okay?”

“Johnny?”

“Yeah, princess?”

“I do really love you.”

“And I really love you too.” Johnny beams at you, then he grabs your phone, handing it to you. “Now go call your friends and take however long you need to clear your head and sort this out, I’ll be here for you when you’re done.”

You press one more kiss to his soft lips before getting up and going to the terrace. You call Ten first, but he’s quick to add Mark to the line, and soon, you’re telling them everything that happened.

“I can’t believe Jae finally manned up and told you,” Mark says when your story is done.

“I can’t believe he tried to make you tell him you love him more than Johnny,” Ten muses. “That dude is fucked in the head sometimes.”

You let out a deep sigh, not wanting to verbally agree with the statement, but what Ten has said is true. Jaehyun has never been great with handling emotions, and tonight’s actions are just one reflection of that fact.

“So what now?” Mark asks. “I mean- Jae was messaging me as soon as you left, which is why we called, but I told him to just give you space.”

You take a deep breath, looking out at the streets below. “Space is a good idea.”

“I mean… you’re with Johnny now, officially, and you just said you love each other,” Ten points out. “Looks like Jae seriously missed the boat.”

“I’m still shocked Johnny’s not mad,” Mark chuckles anxiously.

“Yeah, he’s taking this really well, all things considered,” Ten agrees. “Although… you didn’t tell him about the time Jaehyun ate you out.”

“I was going to-” you admit. “But it was already so much on his plate to begin with…”

Your friends stay quiet, giving you space to process everything.

“You’ve had a long night,” Mark says finally. “Maybe you should sleep on it.”

“Sleep on what?” you laugh, annoyance flooding through you at the whole situation.

“I guess- I just thought…” You hear Mark swallow thickly. “I thought maybe this would change things.”

“It changes nothing,” you state, but you’re sure you all know how big of a lie that is.

Jaehyun admitting he has feelings for you changes everything- perhaps the only thing it doesn’t change is how you feel for Johnny.

“Sleep on it,” Ten agrees. “If you need anything, let us know.”

“You should really eat something,” Johnny says, carefully settling down onto the couch next to you. He has a bowl of fried rice in his hands, and he holds it out.

“I don’t feel like it,” you frown. “My stomach is in knots.”

He simply looks at you for a moment, then he reaches over to place the food on the coffee table. Once he’s relaxed again, body angled toward yours, he gently takes your hand. “What can I do to make this better?”

“You’re already doing more than enough,” you admit. “Part of me feels like I don’t deserve it.”

“Of course you deserve it,” Johnny insists.

“Yeah, but we’re still so new… most guys I’ve dated met Jaehyun and dumped me pretty soon after, I’m used to it by now.”

“Sounds like you’ve been dating insecure pieces of shit.”

You can’t help but chuckle at his words, and you nod in agreement. “I guess that’s probably true.” You take a deep breath. “I have something else to tell you.”

“Okay.” Johnny gives you the space to collect your thoughts.

“Last summer, Jaehyun and I…” you release a pent-up sigh. “Gosh, this feels so vulgar to even admit- he uh… he ate me out.” Part of you doesn’t want to look at Johnny, but another side of you needs to see his reaction, so you take a peek at your new boyfriend.

He lets out a surprised laugh. “Okay?”

“Is it okay?” you press.

“Yeah? Honestly, I was expecting you to say the two of you had fucked before, so hearing he only ate you out is kind of… underwhelming? But in a good way.” He strokes your hand gently.

“You’re taking this whole thing really well,” you tell him, unable to help the smile that works its way onto your face.

“I mean, you’re hot, he’s hot- and this whole eating out thing was last year, I’d be an asshole to hold it against you.”

“Yes, it was last year, but then he kissed me last night, so that’s more recent, and I just wanted to come clean with you on everything.”

“I appreciate that.” Johnny offers you a smile. “Come here.” He pulls you into a hug, and your entire body relaxes in his embrace. He holds you until you move away, and when you settle back against the couch, his hand finds yours again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “So what are you thinking about this whole thing now?”

“I mean… I’m with you. Jaehyun had his chance, and he never took it. I’m frustrated that it took him seeing me happy to finally admit his feelings, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Johnny nods, and you can see the cogs of his mind working away behind his chocolate-brown eyes.

“You look like you want to say something,” you muse after a few moments of silence.

“I’m just thinking,” Johnny tells you, and now it’s your turn to give him space to process. “Listen, you’re right about things being new between the two of us.” You can tell Johnny is choosing his words very carefully. “If we were a few months further along with this, I wouldn’t be suggesting what I’m about to say to you, but I think we’re at a place where what I’m going to offer is doable because we don’t have a steady rhythm yet.”

Your heart lurches into your throat and you hang onto his next words.

“As I said last night, you and Jaehyun have history. I can tell that you’re torn, and I appreciate your loyalty to me even though we’ve only been dating a short while,” Johnny states. “However, even with all of that said, I don’t want to be the reason you don’t explore something with him, something that’s clearly been building for years. And unlike all those other insecure assholes you’ve dated, I’m really not the jealous type.”

You blink at Johnny, doing your best to register the unsaid connotation of what he’s suggesting.

“So…” Johnny swallows thickly, “as long as what we have doesn’t change too much, as long as we still spend a lot of time together, I wouldn’t be opposed to sharing you with him, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

You stare at him blankly. “Sharing.”

“Yeah, sharing,” Johnny laughs. “I mean, he’s your best friend, so if this whole shit show hadn’t happened, I would have been sharing you a lot anyways.”

“How are you so chill with all of this?”

Johnny simply shrugs. “I guess I’ve never been one to feel that restricted by cultural expectations. Some people have more than enough love to share it, and it’s clear that there’s room for two people in your heart. I’m just the lucky son of a bitch that gets the chance to have part of you, despite your long history with Jaehyun.”

There’s nothing you can really say as you look at the man who’s already turned your life upside down. All you can do is whisper an honest, “I love you,” before pressing your lips to his.

Johnny kisses you back, one hand moving to cup your face as he lays you down onto the couch.

You get lost in him, your tumultuous thoughts about Jaehyun dissipating as Johnny takes over.

Jaehyun nearly jumps out of bed when his phone rings and your contact appears on the screen. He almost drops his phone in his haste to answer, his fingers becoming almost butter-like with anxiety. Still, he manages to hit the accept button, and his heart hammers in his chest when he says a meager, “Hello?”

It’s silence on the other end, and Jaehyun has to double-check the call didn’t drop. Then, “Hi.”

He doesn’t even know what to say to you. He has so many things that want to come out, a flurry of thoughts and feelings- but he decides on the safe option, which is a quick, “I’m sorry.”

Silence.

“I’m uh- I shouldn’t have kissed you. Shouldn’t have told you to tell me you love me more than your boyfriend. That was uh…” he remembers what Mark told him, “wrong. It was wrong for me to do that.”

“It was,” you agree, and the words hurt him. Jaehyun maybe partly expected you to say it was all okay, to absolve him of the guilt he’s feeling, but no- this is a burden he’s going to have to carry from now on. “I’m still not happy about it.” God, another cut to his heart. “Saying that, however, I have a proposition for you.”

“A proposition?” Confusion sets in.

“I want you to talk to Johnny.”

“Johnny?” Jaehyun is shocked. “For what? Is he going to kick my ass or something?”

He can hear a hint of a smile on your lips when you assure him, “He’s not going to kick your ass.”

“Are you a hundred percent sure? Because that guy is bigger than me and we both know I rely on my face to survive.”

“I’m sure,” you sigh. “I’m going to give him your number, just wanted to let you know.”

Jaehyun fiddles with the sleeve of his hoodie. “We’re still friends right?”

“Yes, Jae, we’re still friends. I’m just… processing all of this.”

Yet again, Jaehyun pulls up a saying from one of your close mutuals, going for one of Ten’s classic, “Valid,” statements.

“Anyways, I should go, but yeah, Johnny will text you.”

“Okay, goodnight.”

You hang up the phone and Jaehyun lets out a deep breath, collapsing back onto his bed. He’s happy you called and touched base, but he has no idea what to expect from your new boyfriend.

Johnny is waiting at the cafe when Jaehyun arrives. He’d taken the liberty of getting Jaehyun’s coffee order from you before he’d left his apartment, so when the pretty man walks in, there’s no time wasted with him standing in line.

Offering a smile, Johnny waves your best friend over, pushing the cup toward Jaehyun’s side of the table.

Jaehyun stands there for a moment, looking down at the coffee and then up at Johnny. “This is weird,” he says finally.

“It’s about to get weirder,” Johnny jokes. “Sit down.”

With a sigh, Jaehyun does as he’s told, his eyes averted.

Johnny is used to guys being scared of him due to his size alone, and more than almost anyone, Jaehyun has a reason to be on edge. After only meeting once, there’s no way for Jaehyun to know Johnny is a gentle giant, and the elder man is quick to attempt to rectify this. “I’m not here to fight,” he says softly.

“I’d understand if you were,” Jaehyun sighs. “I kissed your girlfriend and tried to break the two of you up.”

Johnny can only laugh. “I’m not the jealous type.”

“That makes one of us.”

“At least you can admit to that,” Johnny notes. “That’s a good start. I can understand why you’d be jealous, I mean, I’m dating your best friend, and from what Mark and Ten tell me, you’ve been into her for a long time.”

Jaehyun simply shrugs, looking down at his untouched coffee.

“Look, I didn’t come here for an apology,” Johnny says.

“You didn’t?”

“No, y/n’s the one you need to apologize to, she’s the one you need to smooth things over with. The whole kiss situation was very… confusing for her, and I’m sure you can understand why.”

“I guess.” Jaehyun reaches up and rubs the back of his neck.

“She cares about you,” Johnny states, and for the first time since sitting down, Jaehyun meets his gaze. “You two have a bond that goes back for years. You’re an important part of her life, and she doesn’t want to lose that.”

“That’s nice to hear and everything, but shouldn’t she be the one telling me this?” Jaehyun asks.

“I’m sure once things settle over, she will, but first, we have to discuss a few things.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’d like to think that you being semi-combative right now has more to do with the whole kiss thing than you not liking me,” Johnny admits with a laugh. “Because if you don’t like me, what I’m about to suggest is never going to work out.”

Jaehyun simply looks Johnny up and down, remaining silent.

“It’s obvious y/n cares about you,” Johnny states. “She cares about me too. And I know she has room for both of us, if we can get along.”

“Of course she has room for both of us, I’m her best friend.”

“I mean… she has room for both of us as more than friends.”

“Huh?”

Johnny finds it almost comical how confused Jaehyun looks. “What I’m saying is- even if the kiss never happened, I’d be sharing her with you. But the kiss did happen, and it’s clear you want something more- she and I are still very new in our relationship, and with newness comes… flexibility.”

“Flexibility,” Jaehyun repeats, and there’s not a hint of two working brain cells behind those pretty eyes of his.

Johnny can’t help but let out a chuckle. He reaches for his coffee, leaning back against his chair. “Yeah, flexibility.” He sips on his drink while Jaehyun takes time to process.

“So you’re saying…” Jaehyun looks to Johnny to finish the sentence, but Johnny doesn’t want to give him that satisfaction. He wants to see Jaehyun work it out himself. “You’re saying… you’re… flexible… about… sharing… your girlfriend.”

“Uh huh.”

“And… what did… uh, what did she say about all of this?”

Johnny shrugs. “She’s open to it. Like I said, she’s still a little upset about how this whole thing happened, but you two have history, if you apologize enough, she’ll work through it.”

“And you’re… completely chill about all of this?” Jaehyun asks.

“I suggested it.”

“You did?”

“It’s a two birds, one stone kind of problem, don’t you think?”

Jaehyun cocks his head to the side. “Are we the birds?”

Johnny can only smile. “Sure.”

“So… now what?”

“Now, we try to be friends, you fix things with y/n, and we see what happens.”

“What do you get out of all of this?” Jaehyun asks, and there’s a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “You know I’m straight, right?”

Johnny nearly chokes on his coffee. “Dude. We’re both straight.”

“Okay, I was just checking.”

“Look- I care about y/n, she cares about you. I’d rather do this and keep her, than have your history impact my future. Also… I mean, in this day and age of adult content, I think a lot of us have… watcher tendencies, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’m a doer, not a watcher,” Jaehyun insists.

“You don’t watch any porn?”

“I never said that.”

Jaehyun is lucky he’s pretty.

You’re watching a show when your phone rings. Johnny is passed out behind you, and you’re quick to answer the call so the sound doesn’t wake him. “One sec,” you whisper to Jaehyun on the other end of the line, checking over your shoulder. Johnny is still asleep and as you gently wiggle from his grasp, he stirs slightly but repositions and continues his gentle snores.

You go out onto the terrace, bringing your phone to your ear. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he responds.

“So… how’s it going?” you ask.

Jaehyun lets out a sigh. “Weird day.”

“Yeah, Johnny told me all about it.”

“I guess that’s not a shock,” Jaehyun admits. “What did he say?”

“He told me about your talk.” You swallow thickly. “Said… said you were open to his suggestion.”

“The whole sharing thing,” your best friend clarifies.

“Yeah.”

“What do you think about it?” he asks.

You choose your words carefully. “I think it’s an interesting idea.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean… you and I do have a history.”

“We do,” he agrees.

“I just… you don’t date, Jaehyun. I’m still mad at you that you waited so long to make a move. I’m mad that when you kissed me, you still tried to make me tell you I love you, and you didn’t confess many of your own feelings.”

You hear him swallow thickly. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t do any of it correctly.”

“So how would you have done it? Correctly, I mean.”

“I should have told you how I felt a long time ago,” he admits. “It shouldn’t have taken you finding someone like Johnny to make me snap.”

“No, it shouldn’t have. You’re lucky he’s such a wonderful guy that he didn’t come knock your teeth in.”

“I am lucky,” Jaehyun says softly. There’s a beat of silence then, “That night, you said you were in love with me for years… it felt very past tense.”

“And? Is there a question there?”

“I guess… I’m just… You don’t love me anymore?”

“It’s complicated.”

“But you want to try this whole threesome thing,” he points out. “So… that must mean there’s still feelings.”

“It’s not just a threesome thing,” you point out. “Johnny’s suggesting an actual sort-of-open sort-of-closed relationship where I can date both of you.”

“Right, yeah.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Good?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Talk to me, Jae.”

“I just… Won’t it be weird if you’re dating two guys?”

You think about it for a moment. “Maybe. But, even if I was just dating Johnny and you were my best friend- we’ve acted like a couple for a long time, don’t you think?”

“I guess.”

“Maybe this is a good test to see if you can actually do commitment,” you suggest.

“Maybe.”

“That doesn’t sound promising.”

“I guess I’m just worried about how it will be with Johnny.”

“You mean how jealous you’ll get.”

“It was hard to see him with you.”

“And yet, he’s open to seeing us be happy. Why do you think it’s so hard for you to watch me be happy with someone else?”

“Because I want to be the main source of your happiness, I guess.”

Why is that kind of sad? Why do you find yourself frowning?

“Look, we can give it a try, have a little date, and see how things feel.”

“A date,” he repeats, and you can hear the smile in his words. “That sounds nice.”

“Maybe you could come over to Johnny’s place and we can get takeout and watch a movie or something.”

“Right, Johnny will be there.”

“Of course he’ll be there.” Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.

“Sorry, I was just- I don’t know, I thought maybe it would be a separate dates situation.”

“It’s a triangle, not a ‘V’ where I do separate things with you both.”

“But you’re with him alone right now.”

“Cuz he’s my boyfriend?” Jaehyun’s starting to annoy you now. “Jaehyun, we’re inviting you into this, into our relationship, of course I’m going to spend more time alone with him than with you.”

You’ve never been one to fight with Jaehyun, but after that kiss- well, he’s getting on your nerves more and more, and you’re worried about what the outcome of this little experiment will be.

“Right, sorry, I’m still not thinking straight,” Jaehyun apologizes.

“If you don’t want to do this-”

“I do,” he insists. “I want- I want you, and if that means I have to jump through these hoops, then, I guess I’ll jump through these hoops.”

“I’m not sure this will be a great fit,” you admit. “You’re just so possessive, Jae, you always have been.”

“I’m working on it, I promise.”

You let out a deep breath. “It’s late. We can talk tomorrow.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

It’s odd to have Jaehyun coming into Johnny’s apartment, and you find yourself clinging to your boyfriend while he gives your best friend a small tour. Jaehyun is cordial, his gaze slipping to you more frequently than not, and you do your best to see the possibility of this whole situation working out.

You’re still confused about your feelings, but it’s kind of nice to have an open space to explore them like this. Johnny truly is the best person you’ve ever met- he’s so understanding, and you don’t want to hurt him in any way, shape, or form.

It’s difficult to wrap your head around the fact that he’s cool with the idea of sharing. Too many social norms and expectations create an anxiety that’s swirling in your gut as the takeout arrives and the three of you settle in the living room.

“What sort of movies do you watch, Jaehyun?” Johnny asks, already scrolling through Netflix.

“Rom-coms and horror mostly.”

“Those are pretty different genres,” your boyfriend laughs. “What do you think, baby? Romance, or horror?”

You’re not particularly in the mood for watching a rom-com with Jaehyun, besides, you’ve seen so many of them with him already. “Let’s do a scary movie,” you decide.

“Works for me,” Johnny nods, switching to the horror section.

The three of you eat your takeout while discussing movies, and you end up settling on some ghost horror film none of you have seen before. You immediately settle in with Johnny, becoming his small spoon out of habit. Jaehyun, meanwhile, shifts awkwardly at the end of the couch.

You try not to think too much about Jaehyun, and the cheap scares in the film are enough to distract you. At your back, Johnny’s soft snores tell you he’s fallen asleep, but his warm arms keep you close.

“This feels weird,” Jaehyun says after a while.

“What does?” you sigh.

“I fucked up, and you’re still mad at me.”

“Part of me thought you were going to say it’s weird seeing me with Johnny,” you admit.

“Shockingly enough, I’m getting used to seeing you as a couple. Told you I’d work on my jealousy, didn’t I?”

You can’t help but laugh. “I guess maybe things are a little tense still, but that will go away with time.”

“Will it?”

“Yeah?”

Jaehyun shifts on the couch. “I am sorry. You know I’m sorry.”

“I know,” you nod.

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything else, but this small interaction has helped. When the movie finishes, you and Johnny walk Jaehyun to the door. He gives you a lingering hug goodbye before you go to bed with Johnny, happy with how the ‘date’ had gone.

Things are getting more normal, and you find yourself at a club with Jaehyun, Johnny, Mark and Ten, like you had that first night you’d introduced your boyfriend to your best friend.

Ten is obvious with his side eye, the way he looks both men up and down, whereas Mark has the decency to be more incognito about things, although, you can tell he’s just as confused as Ten is.

When Johnny and Jaehyun head to the bar to get drinks for your table, they’re not five feet away when Ten practically launches at you. “What’s the tea?”

You can only laugh, taking a sip of your nearly empty rum and coke.

“So has the whole sharing thing happened yet?” Mark asks, ears turning pink at his own question.

“We would have heard if it had,” Ten retorts with a quick eye roll. “She’s waiting, making Jaejae sweat.”

“I’m just getting comfy with him again,” you admit. “There’s always a chance this whole idea won’t work out, and I want to be sure he’s not going to be jealous like he always is if something doesn’t go the way he wants it.”

Ten looks you up and down. “Girl, good luck.”

“Don’t say it like that,” you laugh.

“As soon as Jaejae gets in your pants he’s going to be a stage five clinger and we all know it,” Ten insists.

You can only shake your head, your gaze shifting to Johnny and Jaehyun who are wading back through the crowd with drinks in their hands.

This conversation is put on the back burner, but it remains present in your mind.

After the club, you end up at Johnny’s apartment with Jaehyun in tow. Your skin is tingling with ‘what ifs,’ your heart nearly thundering out of your rib cage.

It’s clear from the way Jaehyun’s moving, precise, and a little apprehensive, that a threesome is in his thoughts as well.

Johnny, however, feels as calm and collected as ever. “More drinks?” he suggests, heading to his fridge to pull out three beers. “Jae, catch.”

Your best friend easily catches the beer, quickly cracking it open and bringing it to his lips. You watch his shoulders relax a little, and you release your own deep breath.

“So,” Johnny says, dragging you to his side. “We’ve been hanging out for two weeks, how are we feeling?”

God, he’s so direct. You love it and you hate it at the same time.

Your eyes shift to Jaehyun, and he meets your gaze. “I mean, it’s up to you two.”

“I’m down,” Johnny responds smoothly. “How are you feeling, baby?”

“Can we start slow?” you ask, heart still racing in your chest.

“Slow how?” Johnny prompts, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Like… oral things? Between me and him, I mean.” Your skin flushes and you hope Jaehyun doesn’t take this the wrong way- hope it’s not a sign of favouritism rather than the truth of the fact which is; you’re more comfortable with Johnny, despite your history with Jaehyun.

“Just oral works,” Johnny assures you. “Right, Jae?”

“Yeah, whatever you’re comfortable with,” Jaehyun nods.

“Come on, baby, let’s go to the bedroom.” Johnny takes your hand, guiding you to his room. It’s such a familiar space- and it feels odd to have Jaehyun in it. Jaehyun stops at the threshold, watching you and Johnny.

Your boyfriend downs his beer, setting the empty can onto the bedside table before grabbing you with both hands. His lips are hot against yours, his skilled tongue tasting your own while you let out a small moan.

You can feel Jaehyun’s eyes on you, and it’s an interesting sensation.

“Do you two want to explore each other a little?” Johnny asks.

You nod, turning to look at Jaehyun. He’s hesitant to approach you, but when he does, you step forward, allowing him to grab your hips and pull you closer.

Neither of you say anything, you’re too lost in his eyes as he slowly closes the distance between your lips.

It’s a soft kiss, one you hadn’t quite expected. Your arms wrap around the back of his neck, urging him to come closer, to deepen things. Jaehyun rewards you by teasing his tongue past your lips, and you gladly accept him.

You cup his cheek and his hand slides down to the small of your back, guiding you to the bed. He carefully helps you onto it, climbing on top of you.

“You good?” Jaehyun asks.

“Let’s do this,” you nod.

“Just oral, right?” he clarifies, pressing his lips to your throat.

“Maybe sixty-nine? And then… maybe… well, this is a threesome, so… spit roasting with you in my mouth?”

“You’ve got this all figured out,” Jaehyun says softly. “Whatever you want.”

You grab at his shirt, looking up at him as you begin to unbutton it.

After a moment of shaky fingers, Jaehyun sits up, undoing the fabric so it can fall to the side of the bed.

You’ve always known Jaehyun’s ripped, but seeing it this close is something different. Despite all the history, despite the butchered kiss a few weeks ago- your body tingles at the notion of getting a taste of your best friend.

“You next,” Jaehyun whispers, grabbing at the hem of your shirt. You allow him to tug it off of you, and soon, you’re both getting out of your pants too.

Jaehyun kisses you when you’re both stripped down to underwear, and he grinds against your core so you can feel how hard he already is.

You moan from the sensation, your pussy throbbing with excitement.

“Here,” Jaehyun rolls the both of you so you’re now on top. “You should be in control, I’ll follow your lead.”

You look down at him for a second, then you turn your head to find Johnny. He’s standing by the wall, hands in his pockets. He’s not touching himself, but you can see the outline of his cock in his pants. He flashes you a wink that acts as a go-ahead, and you muster your courage to adjust on top of Jaehyun, getting into the sixty-nine position.

You both still have underwear on, and you start by teasing Jaehyun through his breifs.

He releases a groan, and you can feel his breath on your panty clad pussy, a shiver running through you at the stimulus.

“Lift your hips, Jaejae, I wanna take these off.” You gently tug at the band of his briefs, letting them snap back to his skin. Jaehyun lets out a soft moan, following through and lifting his hips so you can tug the fabric down to his knees, exposing his hard cock.

He’s not as big as Johnny, but Jaehyun’s cock is as pretty as the rest of him. You can’t help but lick it from balls to tip, and Jaehyun shivers below you. He tugs your panties to the side, grabbing your hips to pull your pussy down onto his face.

So that’s how it’s going to be.

You go for it, and he does too. A mutual pleasure session.

You sink your mouth onto Jaehyun’s cock, licking at it with your tongue and taking as much as you can before beginning to bob your head up and down.

Jaehyun pulls your clit between your lips in response, flicking at it and making you groan around his cock.

You begin to suck him off faster, urging him to do the same to your core. His tongue glides between your pussy lips, and he moans desperately.

You wonder what you taste like. Wonder if he’s missed the taste of you for a year, wonder if he’s dreamt about this-

Jaehyun laps at your pussy like a man starved, and you can tell the sounds of enjoyment escaping him are mostly related to the eating of your pussy moreso than the blow job you’re giving him. The thought turns you on even more, and you grind down against his face, urging him to make you cum.

You can already taste your orgasm- it feels so natural to be cumming like this, Jaehyun’s cock burried in your mouth and his tongue deep in your pussy between your thighs-

A gentle hand pulls you off of Jaehyun, and you look up to find Johnny staring down at you. “Close, baby?” he asks, pinching your chin softly.

“Yeah,” you nod, licking your lips. “So close-”

“Cum on his tongue, and then we can share you properly. As pretty as the sounds you’re making are, we both know you like to be filled with something bigger than a tongue.”

Your toes curl at the thought of Johnny fucking you with his thick cock, and you take gasped breaths, your skin tingling as Jaehyun works you closer and closer-

You begin to stroke him off, all while staring up at Johnny and grinding against Jaehyun’s face.

“I’m there- I’m there- fuck-” you cry desperately as Jaehyun pulls your clit into his mouth, sucking you like his life depends on it and throwing you over the edge.

Your orgasm surges through you-

“Don’t close your eyes,” Johnny warns. “Look at me.”

Somehow his words make the sensation even more extreme, your pussy throbbing desperately around nothing while you stare up at your boyfriend.

While you cum, Johnny pulls out his cock, and without a moment’s hesitation you put it in your mouth. Now you’re cumming, riding Jaehyun’s face, stroking him off, and blowing Johnny all at the same time-

This is what a threesome should be, you realize, and you’re desperate for what comes next.

“Get it all lubed up,” Johnny praises you, petting your head. “When you’re done cumming, let us know.”

You’re still riding the aftershocks of your orgasm, and after a minute you pull off of Johnny’s cock to nod at him. “I’m ready for more.”

“Good girl,” he grins. “You know what to do.”

You climb off of Jaehyun, turning to present your ass to Johnny.

“While Jaehyun gets into position, I think we should both get naked,” Johnny announces, “it’s only fair.

You slip out of your panties, your bra following quickly afterward, and soon, all three of you are naked to each other’s eyes. You’re on your hands and knees, looking up at Jaehyun while Johnny pulls your ass cheeks apart, teasing his cock through your wet folds.

“Do you want me to fuck your face?” Jaehyun asks, smirking down at you.

It’s clear that eating you out gave him some confidence. Gone is the hesitancy, and in it’s place is this suave man, the man you’ve always known, the best friend who picks up chicks everywhere he goes.

“Fuck my face,” you tell him, leaning forward to capture his cock in your mouth.

“No cumming down her throat though,” Johnny warns.

“Then where am I supposed to cum?” Jaehyun asks, thrusts already faltering as he stares at your boyfriend.

“Her tits? Your own chest? Just not her mouth or face,” Johnny responds.

“Whatever you say,” Jaehyun sighs, quickly finding a rhythm.

Johnny pushes his own cock into your pussy, forcing you forward on Jaehyun, whose cock hits the back of your throat.

You gag slightly, but oddly enough, it’s not the worst sensation in the world. “Think she likes choking,” Johnny muses. “Your pussy just got so tight for me, baby. Do you like that?”

You let out a sound of affirmation, trying to take more of Jaehyun in your mouth as the two men begin a push pull of thrusts. You feel like a ragdoll, but there’s something so freeing about it-

“See? Threesomes are fun,” Johnny notes, causing Jaehyun to chuckle and you to moan loudly while your throat and pussy get used simultaneously.

“She’s good at sucking dick,” Jaehyun says wistfully, fucking your face harder.

“She’s good at most things, don’t know if you realized this, but your best friend is a little over achiever,” Johnny muses, his tone soft.

“Is it bad if I cum fast?” Jaehyun asks. “I’ve been wanting this for so long- to have her actually sucking my dick is a little, uh… overwhelming.”

“Cum on her tits whenever you want,” Johnny responds smoothly. “I’ll finish her and I off once you’re done.”

“Okay, yeah,” Jaehyun’s motions falter ever so slightly. “Fuck, princess, you just feel so good-”

You look up at Jaehyun, and you see him shiver when you meet his gaze.

“You love this, huh?” he asks. “Love having two cocks inside you?”

You can only moan a sound of affirmation, and Jaehyun sucks in a harsh breath. “Okay, shit, fuck-” he pulls out of your mouth, hand finding his cock-

Johnny adjusts you ever so slightly, holding you up and arching your back almost to an unbearable point- giving Jaehyun full access to your tits as he jacks off-

“Fuck-” Jaehyun groans again, throwing his head back as ropes of white cum spurt out of him, painting your chest.

Johnny fucks you faster, his large cock spreading you open like nothing else ever has.

Jaehyun finally stops, and Johnny helps you onto your knees, one hand finding your throat to hold you with your back to his chest. “Look at you, all covered in cum,” Johnny whispers in your ear.

You moan, resting your head back on his shoulder.

Johnny’s other hand finds your chest, and he swipes a finger through the cum, bringing it to your lips. “Guess I should let you have a taste.”

You greedily suck his fingers into your mouth, and Jaehyun’s brand of cum explodes across your tastebuds. He’s a healthy guy, with a focus on clean eating, and his cum reflects that.

“Want you to play with your cum covered tits, give Jaehyun a show while I make us cum,” Johnny instructs. “In fact, play with your clit too.”

Your right hand slips between your legs, two fingers rubbing your clit in fast, harsh circles. Your other hand finds your breasts, squeezing the pump flesh and spreading Jaehyun’s cum across your skin while he sits back and stares up at you in shock.

“Feels good?” Johnny asks.

“Feels so good,” you groan, walls clenching around Johnny as he builds you up to another orgasm.

You pinch your nipple, squealing at the sensation while Johnny fucks you even harder.

“You’re close, aren’t you, baby?” Johnny questions, his breath hot on your throat, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Yeah-” you nod, unable to think too much as your high quickly approaches.

“Here, I’ll rub your clit, I know you like giving up control when you cum.” Johnny pushes your hand to the side, two much rougher fingers finding your sensitive bud.

You let out a cry of desperation, your stomach muscles clenching in anticipation-

“That’s it, baby, cum for me,” Johnny coos in your ear. “Cum on my cock like the good girl you are.”

You can’t help yourself, your pussy squeezes Johnny incredibly tight as your orgasm hits you, throbbing through your whole body and making you gasp in ecstasy.

“That’s it,” Johnny grins, burying his face in the crook of your neck. From his sounds, you know he’s close too, and after three more rough thrusts, he’s cumming deep in your core, filling you with everything he has to offer.

Johnny fucks you through your highs, and when he finishes, he simply stops, breathing heavily in your ear. “Shower?” he says after a moment.

“Shower,” you agree.

“Jae, I’ll uh-” Johnny runs a hand through his hair, “I’ll see you out, unless you wanna crash on the couch.”

“I can go,” Jaehyun responds almost too casually, and you notice he’s already half hard again. You’d bet your life he’s going to go home and rub another one out to the thought of you covered in his cum and playing with your tits-

“Come on, baby,” Johnny carries you bridal style to the bathroom, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

You don’t feel the need to say goodbye to Jaehyun as the hot water begins to fall against your skin, washing the cum away.

You’re so tired there’s not much going through your mind.

Johnny is true to his word, rejoining you a short time later.

He scrubs your body clean, and helps you with your towel when you’re done. As the two of you get back into bed, your phone dings, and you see a message there from Jaehyun.

JaeJae (2:00 am): that was fun

JaeJae (2:00 am) we should do that again sometime

JaeJae (2:00 am) goodnight princess

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! I miss JohnJae, so I'm happy I was able to write a fic for them again :)

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🔮 preview. You can only whine and whimper, held down by his weight and unable to do anything. This position is definitely a favourite, you’re their little pillow princess, and you love nothing more than laying there and taking cock.

cw/ tw. Threesome, Johnny participates as a watcher, unprotected sex, voyuerism, fucking with a skirt on, breast worship, creampie, cumming together, dirty talk, praise, slight edging, begging, etc… I petnames. (hers) baby & princess.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 1.6k I teaser wc. 80

🌙 starring. Jaehyun & Johnny x afab!Reader

bonus

“Straight up,” Ten sighs, watching Johnny and Jaehyun standing by the bar waiting for drinks, “I did not think this was going to work.”

“Me neither,” you admit, laughing.

“I guess Jae just needed the right dom to control the situation, huh?” Ten cocks his head to the side, thinking the whole thing through.

“When you say it like that, it sounds a little odd,” you giggle, “but maybe.”

“Who knew Jaehyun could share.” Ten shakes his head again. “I’m shook.”

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1K notes · View notes

snoopyhq · 4 months ago

Note

Can I request smut headcanons where his gn s/o worships Jayce, Viktor, Steb, Vander, Silco, and Ekko's bodies please?

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ the altar is my hips, even if it's a false god

type: misc. arcane characters x gn reader

summary: different body worship with different arcane men

warning: explicit content, mentions of restraints (silk), guided masturbation, mirror play (i think?? idk the name. uh, involves mirrors. viktor's part), implied sex positions, etc. i don't think i can write full blown smut, mainly because i'm not practiced, so i'll try to make it as romantic as i can with extra zealous passion

minors dni, thank you !!!

word count: 1555

a/n: false god is objectively a banger and is one of lover's most underrated tracks.

dividers used made by @/diviniyae

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ JAYCE

he's getting tied to the bedposts

no rope, no handcuffs, no nylon

red silk ribbons adorn his wrists and ankles, contrasting the warm brown of his skin like a trail of your freshly applied lipstick

which is now making its way down the column of his throat

he needs the stability and reassurance

you're restraining his limbs, not to hinder his movement, or as a play on his autonomy, but to hold him down so you could hold him close to you and dote on him like he deserves

he's completely shameless his breathy whimpers and gasps

which is great! it's exactly what you want

you want him to feel safe enough to express himself with you, especially during such an intimate setting

he's the most beautiful canvas in the world, and you're going to turn him into your next masterpiece

he's a marked up mess by the end. lovebites litter his inner thighs and upper body, and god forbid you's skimp out on his neck

each one is a physical reminder of the message you want him to carry with him everyday

i love you, jayce talis. don't you ever forget that

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ VIKTOR

mirror, mirror on the wall. who's the fairest of them all?

it's viktor

this man would be living off work if he could. he doesn't take the time necessary to just spoil himself, so you're taking matters into your own hands

quite literally

after weeks of contradicting schedules, you both have a couple nights completely free

the floor length mirror had its cloth taken off and now stands opposite your shared bed, gleaming faintly in the dim light

you'd taken off his clothes too, slowly, murmuring praises about each newly revealed part of his body

viktor isn't one to blush, but your words always make a softie out of him

you sit behind him, your legs on either side of his as you two look at your reflections. he wants to look away, but your encouragement keeps him from shying away from the revelation of his naked form

your hands find his, and as the jazz music continues its sensual crescendo, you trail them down down down, letting the tips of his fingers ghost over his skin in a featherlight caress

you're kissing his neck and telling him just how great he's doing and how gorgeous he is, and how much he deserves to see himself from your point of view (i love you chappell roan)

his head is thrown back. his soft brown locks are on your shoulders, shifting slightly with his labored breaths as he finally takes the time to love his body the way you always have, with your steady hands over his, guiding his motions and coaxing him to climax

you see now, viktor? can you see just how beautiful you are to me?

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ STEB

i'm sitting here cycling through a myriad of options for him

my first thought was hot springs, but then hmm. gross lowkey. i am a hot springs enjoyer, leave the scenic nature place alone! i berated myself

and then i moved on to a luxury bath

but then i remembered outdoor jacuzzis are a thing, and baths inside in like a house or apartment kind of became boring compared to this

so picture this: outdoor jacuzzi, secluded in the shade of your guys' garden

the giant trees sway in the wind and the sunlight filter through the leaves to create dapples that dance on both your slick skin, your hands on either side of his face as you two move in sync to the slow lapping of the water

he isn't a vocal one, but he has his tells

the way his breath hitches, the half closed eyes, the fluttering his gills when you add extra emphasis on the next roll of your hips

this man's an enforcer (unfortunate)

the stress of work often carries over to other aspects of his life, but he's been trained to remain stoic in the face of adversary

these stolen moments of intimacy are the few times he truly relaxes. be gentle and patient with him, and you'll have him beyond whipped

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ VANDER

the only vanderbilt i know is vander built like the man of mine and sza's dreams

more surface area = more space to love on. btw

being a single dad most of his life is stressful, even more so when you combine it with the leadership needed to keep the lanes in order

the worship you bring him is akin to one for a wine god

you're both getting blacked out wasted

it sounds irresponsible, but hear me out

a space where he doesn't have to be the responsible, upstanding adult in the room, where he can just go buck wild and release his inhibitions? that would fuck so hard, ok

especially having you as his drinking/party buddy

the amount of dirty dancing you'd be getting into with the drinking games available would make a sailor blush

the bedroom is empty, and the commodities of the bar have found their way to this little haven

pour out a cup for this much needed reprieve

maybe upon him too while your clever tongue provides the drunken declarations of love

the only vanderbilt i know is vander built like a fucking snorlax

more surface area = more space to love on. btw

being a single dad most of his life is stressful, even more so when you combine it with the leadership needed to keep the lanes in order

the worship you bring him is akin to one for a wine god

you're both getting blacked out wasted

it sounds irresponsible, but hear me out

a space where he doesn't have to be the responsible, upstanding adult in the room, where he can just go buck wild and release his inhibitions? that would fuck so hard, ok

especially having you as his drinking/party buddy

the amount of dirty dancing you'd be getting into with the drinking games available would make a sailor blush

the bedroom is empty, and the commodities of the bar have found their way to this little haven

pour out a cup for this much needed reprieve

maybe upon him too while your clever tongue provides the drunken declarations of love

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ SILCO

it's a game of tug-of-war

silco is a drug lord and basically rules the underground. he's not relinquishing power without a fight

crafty wit? physical passion? maybe even a game of chess. you choose

the game changes every time, which he finds refreshing and mentally stimulating

it eventually gets to a point where you're finally given the reins

your neck is covered in hickeys and there are scratches down your back by the time it gets there, but they're routine by then

you didn't leave him unharmed either

you may both be panting from the adrenaline and exhilaration, but the true reward comes from the deprivation of senses you love so much

the blindfold goes over, and silco's yours for however long you want to go tonight

you worship him the same way a feral animal would

it's pure instinct and desperation and hurts so good

the consequences can be felt in full later

when you've had enough of your fun, you finally remove the blindfold and let him see the wreck he's made of you, and you of him

make sure to remind him with extra kisses to the left one that he's the apple of your eye, no matter how rotten

aftercare. duh.

he's gotten his hands on the finest creams and bath oils, so you get cleaned and patched up in luxury. rivals a piltovan spa, really

the settle down from such ferocity to something so tame is the perfect balance for your stormy relationship

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ EKKO

worshipping ekko is an event that takes place over the course of the entire day

you've planned it down to the letter

similar to vander, he's in charge of so much and takes care of so many people, so you wanted to be the one pampering him for once

breakfast is brought to him in bed, and the watching the sunrise is a relaxing start to the day

here comes a medley of dates

a walk down his favorite street and hitting the shopping district

you insist he get himself something from at least three different stores

then treating him to lunch before heading off on your hoverboards as you guys race through the sky

back home, you'd put together a skincare basket to do together. the whole routine of exfoliate, moisturize, and then the face masks

you talk about the exciting day you just had, fingers intertwined the whole time until it's time to take the masks-and clothes-off

he doesn't let himself relax often, but around you?

completely gone

you make slow, leisurely love, taking every second as a chance to appreciate him, his body, his voice and that brilliant mind of his

everything about him really

as for aftercare, you'd go to the kitchen, and cook a simple meal to enjoy together before falling asleep right in the living room, too tired to trek back to the bedroom

he's the little spoon tonight

you left no room for argument, wanting to be the one to cradle him close to you and make him feel just as safe and protected as he makes you everyday

588 notes · View notes

heeluvv · 5 months ago

Text

LOVENOTES.ᐟ

pairing ᝰ.ᐟ shy! sim jaeyun x reader

warnings ᝰ.ᐟ blowjob, sub! jake, praise kink, overstimulation, etc.

natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

the first time you find one, it’s slipped between the pages of your notebook, tucked so carefully that it could have easily gone unnoticed. a small, folded piece of paper, slightly crinkled at the edges, as if whoever wrote it had second-guessed themselves a dozen times before finally mustering the courage to leave it there.

your fingers tremble slightly as you unfold it.

"you look really nice today."

it’s not signed. there’s nothing to indicate who wrote it, no distinctive handwriting that you can immediately recognize. just a simple, almost shy admission written in neat, slanted script.

you glance around the room, scanning the faces of your classmates, wondering who might be watching, waiting for your reaction. but no one meets your gaze. no one looks even remotely suspicious.

it becomes a pattern after that.

every few days, another note appears. in your locker, slipped into the pocket of your bag, between the pages of your textbook. always handwritten, always short, always unsigned.

"the way you laugh makes my whole day better."

"i wish I had the courage to talk to you."

"you’re beautiful in ways i can’t put into words."

the anonymity should make you uneasy, but it doesn’t. there’s something so earnest about them, so completely genuine, that all you feel is warmth spreading through your chest each time you find a new one.

and then, you start to notice.

the way jake stares a little too long when he thinks you aren’t looking. the way he fidgets with the sleeves of his hoodie whenever you walk into the room. the way his face turns an unmistakable shade of red if you so much as smile in his direction.

jake, who barely speaks to you, who stumbles over his words whenever you ask him a question, who always seems to be lingering near but never quite close enough.

jake, whose handwriting—now that you’re paying attention—looks an awful lot like the one on the notes you’ve been collecting.

the realization sends your heart racing. you don’t say anything at first, don’t confront him, don’t let on that you might know. instead, you watch. you notice the way his hands twitch as if resisting the urge to reach for something, the way he swallows hard when your fingers graze his as you both reach for the same book.

one day, you decide to test your theory.

you wait until class ends, until the hallway is mostly empty, until you see jake stuffing his books into his bag, his movements tense and deliberate. with a deep breath, you step closer, your fingers brushing the edge of his desk as you pass by.

“you know,” you say softly, just loud enough for him to hear, “whoever’s been leaving me those notes… i hope they know i’d really like to meet them.”

his hands freeze, his grip tightening on the strap of his bag. slowly, he lifts his head, and for the first time, you watch as an entire storm of emotions flickers across his face—panic, hope, something dangerously close to longing.

you let out a soft chuckle, the sound light and teasing, as you slowly made your way around his desk, closing the space between you with an easy confidence. now standing directly in front of him, you could see it clearly—the way his fingers tightened around the strap of his bag, knuckles paling as if holding on for dear life. his posture was stiff, his breath unsteady, and his eyes, wide with something between panic and anticipation, flickered up to meet yours. he looked like a deer caught in headlights, caught red-handed, though for once, it was in the best way possible.

your gaze drops briefly to the bag clutched in his hands, the very thing that exposed him, the very thing that gave away the thoughts he had so carefully tucked away in ink and paper. you tilt your head slightly, amusement dancing in your eyes as you shift your focus back to him.

"i love the way you write about me, jakey..." you murmur, voice soft but laced with something undeniably knowing, undeniably intoxicating. the new nickname rolls off your tongue so smoothly, so naturally, as if it’s always belonged to you. you watch the way his breath stutters, the way his grip on the bag falters for just a fraction of a second before tightening again, as if he’s unsure whether to pull it closer or let it slip from his grasp entirely.

you reach out with slow, deliberate movements, fingers barely brushing against his skin as you push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. the metal frames are cool under your touch, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from his flushed face. you don’t miss the way he tenses at the contact, his breath hitching, his shoulders going rigid as if the mere proximity of your hand is enough to unravel him.

the moment lingers, thick with something unspoken, something heavy. his wide, nervous eyes flicker between yours, unsure of where to look, unsure of what to do with himself. and maybe it’s that uncertainty, that helplessness, that makes your stomach tighten, makes heat coil low in your abdomen. because he’s so easy to tease, so easy to break down with just the right touch, just the right words.

your hand remains close, the space between you nearly nonexistent now, your face mere inches from his. he smells good—clean, warm, faint traces of something familiar that only makes you want to lean in even further. your lips curl into something wicked, something teasing, as you let out a soft hum, watching the way he swallows thickly, his fingers twitching slightly where they rest against his lap, as if unsure whether to move or stay perfectly still.

"what's wrong, jakey?" you purr, voice dripping with amusement, with mock concern. your tone is light, playful, but your eyes say something else entirely—something darker, something knowing. you drink in his reaction, how he squirms under your gaze, how he shifts slightly in his seat as if trying to escape the intensity of the moment.

and god, you love it. love the way he looks at you, love the way he stammers, love the way he seems so completely at your mercy. it’s intoxicating, so much so that you feel the heat pooling between your legs, a slow, aching throb that only grows the longer you watch him squirm.

your fingers find their way into his hair, burying themselves in the soft, fluffy strands as if they belong there, as if they were always meant to tangle and twist in the dark locks. you take your time, twirling the strands lazily around your fingers, feeling their silky texture between each gentle tug. the motion is slow, deliberate, almost hypnotic, and yet, it’s nothing compared to the way your eyes never leave his.

he’s frozen, wide-eyed and breathless, his lips parting slightly as if he wants to say something—anything—but the words never come. maybe it’s because your touch is too much, too intimate, too intoxicating. or maybe it’s the way you tilt your head slightly, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips as you lean in just enough for your breath to fan against his flushed skin.

"you want me, jakey?" you murmur, voice dripping with a teasing lilt, each syllable slow, savoring the moment. you don’t need his answer—you already know. it’s written all over him, from the way his body tenses beneath your touch to the way his fingers curl helplessly against his thighs, unsure whether to grab onto something or keep trembling in place.

your lips ghost over his cheek, barely grazing the flushed skin before dragging toward his ear, slow and torturous. the warmth of your breath sends a visible shiver down his spine, and when you finally let your lips brush against the sensitive shell of his ear, it’s like he completely unravels.

a soft, broken whimper escapes him, followed by a quiet, shuddering breath as his body betrays him, squirming, pressing further into his seat as if trying to ground himself. his grip tightens against the fabric of his pants, knuckles white, every muscle in his body strained as he struggles to maintain some semblance of composure.

but it’s useless—you can feel it, see it, the way he’s already falling apart from something as simple as your touch, your voice, your lips barely even touching him. and god, you love it. you love the way he melts under you, love the way he reacts, so sweet, so helpless. it only makes you want to push further, to see just how much more he can take before he completely breaks.

"please... please..." he whimpered, voice trembling, thick with desperation. his breath hitched as his hips instinctively bucked, the fabric of his pants doing little to hide the way his cock twitched, aching for attention—aching for you. he was restless, every muscle in his body coiled tight with anticipation, needing more, needing anything you were willing to give him.

"hmm, you've been such a good boy, jakey..." you cooed, voice dripping with sweet amusement as you let your fingertips trace lightly over his clothed thighs, feeling the tension beneath them. with a slow, deliberate movement, you gripped the arms of his chair and pushed it back, creating just enough space for you to sink down onto your knees before him. the sight of him like this—eyes glassy with lust, lips parted, breath shaky—only fueled your desire to tease him even further.

your hands roamed, starting at his thighs, kneading the firm muscle beneath your palms before sliding up, up, towards his waist. you could feel the heat radiating from him, his body reacting to your every touch. with a slow, torturous motion, you let your fingers ghost back down, stopping just before where he needed you most. his breath came out in shallow pants, his fingers gripping the armrests so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"you want this really bad, jakey?" you murmured, voice low, sultry, teasing as your gaze dropped to the straining bulge in his pants. he let out a desperate little whine, shifting in his seat as though that might somehow alleviate the throbbing ache between his legs. his need was palpable, his body screaming for you even when his words failed him.

your fingers trailed up to his zipper, slow and deliberate, the sound of metal teeth parting filling the air as you dragged it down with agonizing ease. his breath hitched, body tensing beneath your touch, every fiber of his being reacting to the way your fingers brushed against him—light, teasing, knowing.

his thighs twitched, his hips shifting as he tried to hold himself still, but the anticipation was too much, too overwhelming. he squirmed, his breath coming out in broken, needy gasps, chest rising and falling rapidly as you took your time, relishing the way he unraveled right in front of you.

"please... y/n..." he whimpered, voice strained, thick with desperation. the sound sent a thrill down your spine, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the way his resolve was crumbling, piece by piece. he was so vulnerable like this—so beautifully, helplessly desperate for your touch.

your hands moved with a teasing slowness as you hooked your fingers around the waistband of his pants, dragging them down inch by inch. the fabric clung to him, as if even his clothes refused to part with the heat radiating off his body. you could feel how tense he was, how his muscles flexed beneath your fingertips, his thighs trembling ever so slightly as you peeled away the final barrier keeping him from you.

his boxers slipped down in the same motion, and the moment they were low enough, his cock sprang free, slapping back against his abdomen with a soft, almost lewd sound. the sight alone made your breath catch—so hard, so flushed, twitching with every tiny movement, as if aching for any kind of relief.

a choked moan escaped his lips, his head tipping back against the chair, fingers digging into the chair as he tried to ground himself against the intensity of it all. he was completely exposed to you now, vulnerable and needy, his entire body betraying just how badly he wanted this—wanted you.

your fingers wrapped around his length, warmth radiating from him, his skin burning hot beneath your touch. the moment you made contact, a sharp gasp tore through his lips, followed by a broken whine that sent shivers straight down your spine. he was already so worked up, so desperate—his cock twitching in your grip, thick beads of precum spilling from the swollen tip, trailing down in glistening strands. the sight alone made your mouth water, the way it throbbed, the way his body reacted to even the slightest touch.

his hands flew back, fingers gripping onto the edge of the desk behind him, knuckles turning white as he tried to ground himself. his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, his lips parting as more sounds spilled from him—needy, unfiltered, shameless moans that only made your desire to ruin him even stronger.

"f-fuck... y/n..." he whimpered, voice cracking, hips instinctively bucking up into your hand, chasing even the slightest bit of friction.

your grip tightened just a little, testing, teasing, watching as his whole body tensed at the sensation. you started slow, agonizingly slow, your fingers stroking him in soft, deliberate movements, dragging up from the base, squeezing lightly just under the tip before gliding back down. each stroke had him gasping, his thighs trembling on either side of you, his entire body completely at your mercy.

"so fucking big, jakey..." you murmured, voice laced with both admiration and teasing, your thumb circling the tip, spreading the precum that dripped so generously from him.

his head tipped back against the chair, mouth falling open as a deep, shaky moan left him. he looked so wrecked already, so beautifully desperate, his body betraying just how much he wanted—no, needed—your touch.

your hands moved faster now, each stroke slick and effortless, his cock completely coated in his own precum, the lewd wet sounds of it filling the space between you. the way it dripped down, pooling at the base, only fueled the heat simmering in your core, making you tighten your grip just enough to make him shudder.

"y/n—!.." he choked out, voice breaking into a desperate whine as his head fell back against the chair, exposing the long column of his throat. his eyes screwed shut, lips parted, breath coming out in sharp, uneven pants, his whole body trembling beneath your touch. his fingers clawed at the desk behind him, gripping the edge like it was the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart.

"you're doing so good, baby... fuck..." you purred, voice thick with hunger, your eyes drinking in every little detail—the way his brows knitted together in pleasure, the way his muscles tensed with every stroke, the way his thighs quivered on either side of you, completely at your mercy.

but what really drove you insane was the way he whined for more, how his body instinctively chased your touch, his hips stuttering forward despite how hard he tried to keep still. you could feel him twitch in your palm, his need growing, his body on the verge of breaking under the intensity of it all.

his hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat, the flushed color of his cheeks making him look so utterly wrecked, so beautiful like this—falling apart for you, because of you.

your tongue flicked out, barely ghosting over his swollen tip before pressing flat against it, collecting the thick beads of precum that had pooled there. the taste was intoxicating—warm, slightly salty, completely addictive—and you let out a soft hum of satisfaction as you savored it. the moment your tongue made contact, a loud, broken moan ripped from his throat, his hips jerking up involuntarily, as if his body was begging for more before his mind could even catch up.

his thighs trembled beneath your touch, muscles flexing as you dragged your tongue down the underside of his length, tracing along the prominent vein that pulsed with every rapid beat of his heart. slow, deliberate, teasing. you took your time, savoring the way his cock twitched in response to every flick of your tongue, every wet kiss you left against his burning skin. when you reached the base, you pressed your lips there, sucking lightly before dragging your tongue back up, tracing the same path until you reached the tip once more.

without warning, you took him into your mouth, the heat of it enveloping his sensitive tip as your lips wrapped around him. his reaction was immediate—a sharp gasp, followed by a low, shuddering moan as his hands instinctively shot to the desk behind him, fingers curling around the edge like he was trying to keep himself grounded.

your tongue swirled around his tip as you sucked, hollowing your cheeks, creating just the right amount of pressure to have him unraveling beneath you. your hands weren’t idle either—one gripped the base of his cock, stroking in tandem with the rhythm of your mouth, while the other pressed against his thigh, feeling the way it tensed under your touch.

"shit, shit, shit—y/n!" he gasped, voice high and desperate, his entire body shaking. "too much… please!"

but even as he begged, his hips twitched forward, as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to pull away or push deeper into your warmth. his body was betraying him, chasing the pleasure even as his mind tried to resist, and you loved every second of it.

his glasses slipped from his face, tumbling onto the floor with a soft clatter, but he couldn’t bring himself to care—not when his entire body was shaking, overwhelmed by the unbearable heat coiling in his stomach, the tight knot threatening to snap at any moment. his breath came out in ragged, uneven pants, chest rising and falling rapidly as he teetered on the very edge, his thighs trembling beneath your touch.

"fuck… fuck…" his voice was wrecked, breaking apart with every syllable, barely able to form the words through the waves of pleasure crashing over him. "y/n, can i cum? please… c-can i—i?" he whined, his voice raw with desperation, his body completely at your mercy. small, glistening tears slipped down his flushed cheeks, his brows knitted together as he looked down at you, his eyes glassy, pleading.

the second you gave him a nod, the smallest signal of permission, his control shattered entirely.

his head tipped back, his lips parting in a loud, unrestrained moan as his body seized, completely undone beneath your touch. your hands moved even faster, stroking him with a relentless pace, and at the same time, you took him deeper into your mouth, feeling his cock twitch violently against your tongue.

"ah—ahh, fuck—!"

his entire body tensed as pleasure crashed through him like a tidal wave, his hands scrambling for anything to hold onto as his release hit him with overwhelming force.

hot, thick ropes of cum filled your mouth in an instant, the sheer amount catching you off guard as you tried to swallow, a few soft coughs escaping you as you struggled to take it all. he was gasping above you, moaning brokenly, completely spent, his body still shaking as aftershocks coursed through him.

his glasses lay forgotten on the floor, his mind hazy, clouded with pleasure. the only thing grounding him now was you—your touch, your warmth, the way you were still there, taking everything he gave you.

after finally catching your breath, you lifted your gaze to meet his, watching the way his dazed, unfocused eyes struggled to stay open. his chest rose and fell in rapid, uneven breaths, his body still trembling from the aftershocks of his release. he looked completely wrecked—his hair damp with sweat, sticking messily to his forehead, his lips parted as he tried to steady himself.

but you weren’t done with him yet.

no, you wanted him to remember this for the rest of his life.

your fingers wrapped around his length once more, feeling how sensitive he had become, the way he twitched helplessly in your grasp. the second you moved, stroking him with slow, deliberate motions, a broken whimper tore from his throat. his whole body jolted, thighs quivering as the overstimulation sent sharp jolts of pleasure straight through him.

"w-wait, i—" his voice was barely coherent, breathy and wrecked, his head lolling to the side as he tried to process what was happening. but you didn’t give him a chance to recover, didn’t give him room to protest.

without hesitation, you leaned in and took him into your mouth once more, swallowing him down in one fluid motion until his tip nudged the back of your throat. his reaction was immediate—his body tensed so violently that his hands scrambled for something, anything to hold onto.

"ah—fuck, y/n—!" he cried out, a high, desperate moan ripping through him, his hands gripping at the desk behind him as his body writhed under your touch. he was so sensitive, every nerve in his body on fire, overwhelmed by the unbearable pleasure of being overstimulated.

his thighs tensed beneath your hands, his hips jerking up instinctively despite the way he shook uncontrollably. tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, his lips trembling as he tried to form words, tried to beg—but nothing coherent came out, only broken whimpers and desperate gasps.

you could feel him throbbing against your tongue, his body completely at your mercy, and it only made you want to push him further—to drag him past his limits, make him drown in pleasure until he couldn’t think of anything else but you.

and by the way his body continued to tremble, the way his voice cracked as he moaned your name, you knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

and you loved every second of it.

"y/n! i—i can't!" he cried out, voice cracking under the weight of overwhelming pleasure. his words came out breathless, barely coherent between the sharp, desperate gasps that spilled from his lips. his body trembled violently, his back arching slightly as he writhed beneath your touch, every nerve in his body on fire.

but his pleas only fueled you further, only made you more determined to push him past his breaking point, to make him feel nothing but you.

his moans grew louder, more broken, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe through the overstimulation. his hands clawed at the surface behind him, fingers curling into helpless fists, unsure whether to push you away or pull you closer. his thighs quivered beneath your grip, his entire body fighting against the pleasure that was consuming him whole.

"p-please, too much—" he whined, voice high-pitched, almost desperate, but you could feel how his cock twitched in your mouth, how his body betrayed him despite his pleas.

you weren’t stopping. not when he was falling apart so beautifully for you.

the more he gasped, the more he moaned, the more you wanted to ruin him completely, to make sure he would never forget the way you made him feel tonight. and by the way he trembled, the way he clung to anything that could ground him, you knew he was close—so close to breaking, so close to surrendering entirely to you.

"shit! oh my god—y/n!" he screamed, his voice breaking into a desperate, uncontrollable sob of pleasure as his entire body convulsed beneath you.

his back arched off the chair, his thighs trembling so violently that he nearly lost his footing, hands flying to grip the desk behind him in a feeble attempt to ground himself. but it was useless—he was far too gone, drowning in the unbearable intensity of his release, completely at your mercy as pleasure wracked through him like a powerful, unrelenting wave.

his cock twitched violently in your mouth, and within seconds, he was spilling over once more—hot, thick ropes of cum flooding past your lips, the sheer amount far more than before. some of it trickled down your chin, dripping in sinful streaks as you tried to swallow, but there was just too much.

his moans turned into high, broken cries, the overstimulation sending him spiraling into a place of pure ecstasy, his body shaking so hard that his knees nearly buckled. tears pricked at the corners of his tightly shut eyes, his lips trembling as he gasped for air between moans, his chest rising and falling erratically.

"f-fuck, oh my god," he whimpered, voice raw and strained, his mind completely fogged over with pleasure. his fingers twitched against the desk, his body so spent, so overstimulated, yet still so incredibly sensitive under your touch.

his release dripped from your lips, warm and thick, and you could feel the way he shuddered at the sight, the realization that he had come so hard, so completely wrecked by your hands, your mouth, your touch.

and even as his body trembled, even as he struggled to come down from the high that had just shattered him to pieces, you knew deep down—he still wanted more.

natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ something new for sure but i just love sub jake so this was a must. hoped you enjoyed!

#enha smut #enha x reader #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha #enhypen smut #jake sim #enhypen jake #jake smut #jake x reader #sim jaeyun #jaeyun x reader #jaeyun smut #enhypen jaeyun #smut #sub jake

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trashmouth-richie · 16 days ago

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⛧all hope is gone⛧ || eddie x f!reader || 18+ dead dove don’t eat

⛧tattoo artist! steve — ⛧rising rockstar! eddie — ⛧ f!reader= cherry

⛧post s4, this is a series of blurbs revolving around modern day times and flashbacks where eddie + steve survive vecna’s reign escaping hawkins to a new city to attend college leaving the past in the rearview… but repercussions always come back with a bite

⛧ sulfur ⛧ 6.8k

⛧ summary: possessive! eddie, sad boy! steve, reader gets work done by steve to surprise eddie with a tattoo of his name, it’s simple! harmless! to you… + smut, exhibitionism, mention of drugs and alcohol, demonic themes, soul selling etc

It was your idea to surprise your boyfriend with a tattoo. After months of him joking around about branding you as his in a more permanent way, you decided to do it.

A tattoo would last forever, it wouldn’t heal like teeth marks did or fade away like his hickeys would. His dick kicked up at the thought of his name scratched into your delicate skin. The same night he had mentioned it he had you face down in the sheets, burying himself deep within your walls until you were both out of breath. Panting, aching for and from one another.

The date was set, and you knew better than to go to anyone but Eddie’s best friend to get it done, and Steve would do it for free, as a favor.

He agreed to keep it secret because you had wanted to surprise Eddie, but as the appointment creeped up, you became more and more nervous about trying to keep your present for him under wraps.

The day of the appointment landed on a Friday, the same night Eddie’s band was set to play at The Bloody Dime, an up and coming bar that was known for fights breaking out and fancy drinks.

Per his demands, you weren’t allowed within ten feet of such a place, already having to find out the hard way when he beat the bricks off a guy who wouldn’t stop staring at you.

Pretty baby like you doesn’t belong there, do you understand?

Steve’s shop was downtown from your apartment, a cozy little space nestled into a black brick building—Inked Demo spelled out with neon blue lights.

The walls were covered with paintings of strange creatures you couldn’t imagine in your worst nightmares, deep reds and violent shades of purple. Steve kept various plants hung from the ceiling and more were potted in planters or tucked into ornate little terrariums.

Inked Demo smelled of deep rich cedar and hand rolled cigarettes. The brick walls added a modern touch but not too much to be considered a place for hipsters to hang out. No, this space was carefully crafted to his liking, and there wasn’t another like it.

The bell on the door dinged announcing your arrival and Steve stepped from behind the back wall. His hair was how it always was, slicked back in a dark wave, and he merely nodded to acknowledge your presence.

“Cherry,” he greeted, using the name Eddie had introduced you to his friends. He held your arms and planted a small kiss on your cheek. Out of all of Eddie’s friends, Steve knew you just as well as your own boyfriend did. “Good to see you.”

“You too,” you say cheerfully, “looks like you’re staying busy!”

A smile creeps across his lips as he lets your arms go and shrugs. “Yeah, I’ve been lucky this past year.”

Steve had always been soft spoken and humble, a quiet type that used his facial features to convey how he felt. Walking to a small desk, his tall frame slinks like a shadow as he clicks on a slim lamp and begins flipping through a binder full of current work and past tattoos.

He flipped to the page colored with two heart shaped cherries and the name Eddie written in pretty cursive in one of them.

You gasp and cover your mouth in awe. They were perfect. Steve was able to capture your ideas through your own horrible explanations and gave his own little twist to them. A modern mockup of American traditionalism with the speckles of glitter you had seen on Pinterest.

His eyes sparkle through the shadow from the light as he proudly holds up the drawing, “so… where we puttin’ this sucker?”

Originally you had thought to put it on your chest, but decided against it when Robin had told you how much her tattoo had hurt there. She swore it was even worse when she had Steve cover Barb’s name over with a moth just a few short months later.

Crossing a tiger print rug to the black tattoo chair, you sit down gently with your ankles crossed, “umm, would it be weird to put it on my thigh?” you asked meekly, “high up so it’s a little more private?”

Raising your skirt, you show Steve the placement. A slivered peek of scarlet lace panties were visible beneath the hiked up fabric in your fingers, and he nearly bites a hole in his cheek to not look.

“You could put it there,” he ponders, moving a large veiny hand through the slick of his hair. “I’ve done a few names on the neck, initials on ring fingers.” He laughs and raises his eyebrows, “… I uh… even did one on an ass cheek.”

Eddie would go berserk seeing his name anywhere on your body, but you had to admit, there was something a little bit sexy about his name being tattooed only somewhere he could see.

“That’s where I want it, oh my god! He’ll go crazy! Will it hurt?”

His eyes open wide but he shakes the shock from his face into a professional expression as he grabs supplies to sanitize his work area. He could do this. You’re a client, just a client.

Clearing his throat, he chides, “haven’t had anyone cry yet, so I’m gonna go ahead and say no.”

Steve’s reputation for his artwork spread far and wide, he was booked solid for months on end, self taught, making tons of money for a college drop out. Despite what his dad had said.

He had done all of Eddie’s tattoos including the enormous stretch of bat wings that spread across his shoulders and down the expanse of his back. Sharp talons protruding onto the beginning of his hips, curved around to his wrists. Steve had freehanded most of it, as if it were from a memory.

Biting your lip contemplating the placement, you think of Eddie and the swelling size of his cock as it split you open once he laid eyes on his name branded into your skin.

“Okay,” you smile, “let’s do it.”

Steve half smirked and rubbed his jaw, “cool, lay on your stomach for me.”

Flipping onto your front you lay with your hands under your chin, looking up at him through your lashes, “like this?”

Steve sits on the stool facing away from you, straightening his table and tattoo gun, looking over his shoulder meeting your eye, “yeah… that’s perfect, Cherry.”

You watch in amusement as he sterilizes his work station and sets up the ink, “Eddie playin’ at the Dime tonight?”

“Yep,” you sigh, thinking of all the time you’d spent alone while he was gone, “last show of their local tour, then finally we can go back to normal.”

A scoff rumbles from Steve’s throat as he wraps his gun, “what’s even considered normal? Everything is pretty shitty around here.”

Propping up on an elbow you set to argue with him, “going to class is normal, hanging out with our friends, partying, sleeping in the same bed instead of him crashing in the back of someone’s van for the night… this tour has been hard on him. Hard on us.” you sigh a little, picking at your thumbs.

Steve looks over and sees the sadness in your face, grabbing the pink disposable razor.

“He texted yesterday to say he was leaving Corroded behind and starting up somethin’ with a few guys from here. He seemed pretty excited about signing that deal with Dark Records. Can’t say I blame him, anything to do with home is hard to deal with.”

Eddie never talked about Hawkins. The only thing you knew about it was that he and Steve got the hell out of there the year he graduated, never looking back, never visiting.

“That’s the plan for now at least… honestly, I wish he would take a break for a while, relax a little, but you know him. He’s really driven to be the best he can be.”

Steve knew all too well. Spending nights awake staring out of his large loft windows, missing the way things used to be, regretting everything that happened in Hawkins.

“Eddie’s…passionate…about the things he cares about, he’s always been that way.”

That part was always true, Eddie carried his feelings on his sleeve, never afraid to show his emotions, or make sacrifices for people he loved. Steve himself was a living breathing reminder of that.

“…alright Cherry,” his voice dripped with smoothness as he got closer to you, “everything’s ready…I’ll need to lift your skirt so I can prep the skin, you cool with that?”

You reply with a yes, and feel the goosebumps prick at your skin as the cool air hits your exposed cheek. The rubber of Steve’s glove drags across your skin as he rubs in the sanitation spray, “‘m gonna shave you now.”

This being your first tattoo you didn’t know what to expect, heat flooding your cheeks immediately, “oh my God is it hairy?”

Steve chuckles low, a fan of his breath blowing warm against your skin, “not at all honey, it’s just standard procedure for any tattoo.”

He was delicate as he ran the blade across you in small motions away from him. One rubber gloved hand held your skin taut, the other on the razor. Your ass bounced back to him after the last drag of the razor leaves your skin, and you swore you heard him suck in a breath.

Steve had always been handsome, ever since the first time you met during that freshman year mixer in the backyard of some random frat house that he was rushing for.

He was different then, preppy clothes and expensive shoes, surviving during the week just to live for the weekends. A flask with his name claim permanently pressed to his palm. King Steve.

But somewhere between the stress of college and Spring break back in Hawkins, he changed. He dropped out of college completely and dove into his natural talent. Making a name for himself, carving his own path.

That was why you had fallen for him to begin with.

Your heart thumped loudly at the thought of the past, and you cleared your throat to try and change the subject.

“E-Eddie said you have a date this weekend, are you excited?”

Steve wipes your skin with a paper towel and spreads a thick ointment to lay the stencil. A small huff of annoyance escaping his pressed lips,“I wish he’d stop trying to set me up.”

His thumbs sweep across the stencil laying it firmly in place, “oh c’mon Steven…Lydia’s cute, she’s in one of my elective art classes, she reminds me of you.”

Steven. Nobody ever called him by his full name.

“Of me?”

Looking over your shoulder you meet his deep mossy eyes, “in a weird way I guess, yeah.”

He looks back into your eyes, watching as you slowly blinked and drifted your gaze downward to where his large hands were still splayed across your ass.

The dusting of hair on his arms tickled your skin when he pulled back gently, pinching a corner of the transfer paper and peeling it from you. He purses his lips and blows on the stencil lightly.

Steve often thought back to the way things were three years ago. The way your eyes gleamed under the string patio lights, the scent of your vanilla perfume and how it seemed to bake deeper with the sun's rays on your skin.

He remembered how your lips tasted like melted ice cream against his, and how deeply he craved to be floating in the candy confectionery of sugar and sprinkles with you in the center of it, center of his world.

Steve shakes his head, trying to erase that time in his life but always coming up short. “This won’t hurt too bad, I’ll stop whenever you need, okay? It’s best if you lay down.”

Your chest tightens with nerves as you nod your head, pressing your cheek into the vinyl of the black headrest.

The gun starts and Steve tells you he’s going to do the outline of the cherries first. The needle vibrates into your skin and you wince at the first few lines made but eventually getting used to the way your skin buzzed and the tickling pain that came from it.

You whimpered out in a few spots and Steve’s velvet voice shushed you gently, telling you the worst was almost over.

“Outlining is finished,” Steve murmurs, rubbing ink from your skin, “you’re doing really good, honey.”

Your mind slips to him saying those same words but years early in an entirely different setting.

A miniature golf course with clubs that were too short and a go-kart track. He had said it when you finally sunk your ball after par ten thousand on hole eleven.

Sarcasm spread across his face and you wiggled your tongue at him and threw a middle finger his way. Only for him to chase you around the tiny windmills and fake grassy hills, catching up and tickling you under your arms until you were near to tears.

You thought he would have kissed you that night, but to your surprise, and dismay, he had waited for the third official date.

“Thank you,” you smile weakly.

He returns the smile and looks away, clearing his throat, “the shading will be a cake walk, we’ll be done here before you know it…might even catch the end of Eddie’s show.”

“Really?” you say with a spring of hope in your voice. He couldn’t dismiss how his friend's name made his mouth taste like poison, but how it made you weak in the knees. “That would be great, Steve.”

“Sure thing princess,” he nearly whispered, “lay back now, I’ll be done soon.”

Steve tried to blank it all out as his tattoo gun spelled Eddie in a cursive calligraphy he knew was yours. Letter by letter he swallowed down the feelings he had been harboring from you, from him— from everyone.

He wished he had never taken you to that concert. He loathed himself for the way Eddie slithered between the two of you, how Eddie could have had any girl at that after party but he chose you simply because you were with him.

Steve tried to deny him of it, tried to steer him toward another girl, a girl who wasn’t you. One he hadn’t been in love with, one who didn’t appear in his dreams despite the nightmares clouding in. But one low growl and a flash of those sharp fangs and Steve knew he didn’t stand a chance.

Letter by letter he branded his friend’s name into your skin, giving the girl he loved a silent goodbye with every curve and final dot of the ‘i’.

“All done,” he said with a shaky throat, cleaning you up, “wanna see it?”

You nod and reach for his outstretched hand, swinging your legs and standing to follow him to the mirror. It was perfect. Equal parts colorful yet traditional with a spark of modern flare added to it.

“Steve,” you gasp, mouth hung open in adoration, “it’s beautiful!”

He rubs his neck and watches your reflection in the mirror, the way your mouth ticks up on the ends into the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

His heart was aching knowing it wasn’t for him.

The Bloody Dime had a line that stretched two blocks down. Steve had insisted on bringing you to the bar, knowing the likes of the people who attended Corroded Coffin’s concerts he wasn’t too keen on letting you go alone.

You didn’t mind the company, tagging along behind Steve’s tall frame, his boots almost silent on the cracked pavement. It was rare to be with someone other than Eddie, even if it was just a casual walk to the bar he was playing at. But it was Steve, his right hand, they were thicker than blood or whatever it was Eddie sometimes said.

The sky was dark and gray, dark thunderheads circling around the bar like an omen, and you shivered as the big red doors came into view.

Steve flicked his cigarette across the sidewalk, the lit end skittering like a firecracker into the dark night as it came to a stop, little plumes of smoke wafting from it.

“Johnny boy,” Steve purred to the bouncer, his clean shaven head gleaming in the dank light like a polished cue ball. “Pretty busy in there tonight?”

“Buncha rowdy fuckers,” the burly bouncer said in an annoyed tone, “full moon y’know? Makes the crazies come out— you stayin’?”

Steve rubs the back of his neck. “For a bit, I’m making sure Cherry got in here safe to see Eddie play.”

Johnny leans forward looking down at you with empty eyes, “you know I can’t do that, boss would have me skinned alive if he knew you were here.”

“It’s just this one time,” you bat your eyelashes in sugary sweet protest, “b’sides, it’s their last show!”

Steve tries to vouch for you, “it’s alright, I’ll watch over her, and I’ll deal with him if he gets…” he gave Johnny a knowing look, “listen, nobody’s losin’ their job tonight big guy.”

“If. Whatever man, I didn’t see a thing. In fact, you two snuck in.”

He leaves the doors unattended muttering to himself about needing to find another gig as Steve moves the velvet rope and you slip inside.

The Bloody Dime was not at all what you had imagined it to be. Girls dressed as fallen angels swung from the ceiling in iron cages. Every wall was covered in a deep shade of velvety red upholstery, the stage was raised and at the rear of the building, a backlit full bar to the left and on the right sat a lounge with shiny leather couches was guarded by two bouncers that made Johnny look like a twig.

Sweat, smoke and sex perfumed the air and Steve pinched his eyes and pulled out a pair of sunglasses as he followed you further into the club. A pill bottle shook behind you and you noticed him cocking his head back and swallowing.

“Addy?”

Steve shook his head and smirked, “Tylenol, this place gives me a migraine.”

“A migraine?” you teased, leaning in closer so he could hear you, “turning into an old man on me, Steven?”

Lucky for Steve, the atmosphere was dark and cloudy with smoke the lighting always purple and deep crimson, otherwise you would have seen him blush at the way you pressed a hand delicately to his chest, and would have heard his breath hitch at the scent of your shampoo as your hair brushed the tip of his nose.

No, you didn’t see any of that.

Instead Steve rolled his eyes and pushed his tongue into his cheek, “c’mon Cherry, there’s a table over there.”

He led you to a high top table towards the bar and near the stage. Steve pulled out your stool making sure you were comfortable before sliding onto his own, his back to the stage, eyes on the front door.

Eddie hadn’t seen you yet, he was currently thrashing his guitar to a solo, leaning his body parallel with the floor that broke every law of physics. His guitar was balanced on his torso as his fingers frantically moved the strings in a dizzying motion. You could just barely make out how his long hair was wet, skimming the top of the stage.

You watched in a hypnotic gaze at him perform, completely enthralled by him and the way he looked like he truly belonged up there. The other members tried to keep up with him but it was without a single ounce of a doubt that Eddie outshined them all.

The way he moved drew you in, like a moth to a flame you were practically in a trance and you could hardly look away. Eddie held the entire crowd's attention as if it was demanded, willing or unwilling.

“Wow,” you mustered in a half whisper half hum, “they’re incredible.” You had seen them perform before at other venues across the state but never here. It was almost like entering another dimension.

Steve flicks his lighter and inhales one of his rolled cigarettes, “yeah they’re something alright, Dark Records didn’t sign him as a pity bargain.”

The guitar riff ends and Eddie’s at the mic, belting out the lyrics to end the song with a long chord. His neck strained with every muscle and veins protruding deliciously, and you couldn’t look away.

Steve's eyes scanned the bar. He knew that towards the end of their set the crowd would get unruly. The last thing he wanted was for you to get hurt during some drunken brawl.

“Might be best to meet him in his dressing room, they usually flock to the stage when the band is done.”

Although you didn’t love the thought of other women going feral over him, you noticed the seriousness in Steve’s voice and decided to go.

“Lead the way.”

Steve weaves you between sweaty shoulders and a pair of girls snorting coke from each other's cleavage. The back hallway is crowded by another bodyguard and he nods in recognition to him.

“Cherry’s gonna wait for the show to get over in here.” Steve says.

The giant man looked down at the two of you between his small lenses and the fat bush of his eyebrows, “Y’ sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’ll handle it.” Steve replies simply.

“Your funeral.”

Eddie’s dressing room was just how you imagined. The walls were flanked in dark paint and ruby reds. The lighting was kept low, glowing ominously off of the leather furniture. The corner held a rack of clothing ranging from leather jackets to long animal print robes. A true rockstar in the making.

“They’re usually pretty amped up after, so just keep that in mind, okay?” Steve says from behind you, cracking his neck.

You roll your eyes in dismissal, “I’ve been with Eddie after a show before, I know he’ll be a little drunk, it’s no biggie.”

“It’s different here Cherry. He—” Steve didn’t know how to tell you that Eddie wouldn’t be his regular self, that the atmosphere of The Bloody Dime was something else entirely, that Eddie had kept you away from here so you could remain naive to this part of his life.

So… Steve didn’t say anything, he let it go. He could just only hope the repercussions of bringing you here tonight wouldn’t hurt you in return.

You cocked an eyebrow at Steve, was he trying to warn you? The thought fell away and was soon overtaken with excitement at the sound of voices booming down the hall. Rushing to the full length mirror, you twist slightly to get another look at Eddie’s name, “do you think he’ll like it?”

Steve smiled. Swallowing down the lump of bile in his throat, “he’s gonna love it.”

The door opens with a crack and it’s Eddie dripping sweat with a bottle of liquor in one hand, the rest of Corroded Coffin behind him.

“Baby!” you cheer, arms open wide and running into his chest, “you looked so good up there Eddie! I can’t believe it!”

Eddie hasn’t said a word. In fact his eyes are twitching at the corner, his breath increasing with each boiled temperature of his angry hot blood.

With your arms wrapped around his neck you lean back to get a good look at his face. “Are you surprised to see me? I know you didn't want me here but I have somethi—”

“You‘re right Cherry,” Eddie seethes, still not looking at you, his stare hellbent on burning holes into Steve’s eyes. “I don’t want you around here.”

His band looks around awkwardly, deciding to take the party and groupies elsewhere.

“But, it was your last show, and I wanted… well I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well congrats. I’m surprised,” he sneered, “surprised that you didn’t listen to the one thing I have told you not to do.”

“It was my idea,” Steve interjects, “let her show you what—”

“Steve,” Eddie hollered, “don’t open your fuckin mouth again. I’ll deal with you later.”

You were dumbfounded, why was he so upset?

“Don’t act like that, what’s the problem? I’m not hurt, this place is actually super nice. Why don’t you ever want me here?”

Eddie’s eyes darken and he lowers his gaze to you. Setting the liquor bottle down on the nearest table, he holds onto your upper arms. With the deepest breath he can manage through his nose he rolls his shoulders.

“I’ve told you—Forget it, It’s fine! Show me what couldn’t wait until we got home.”

You smile up at him and give him a quick kiss on his lips. “Remember how we talked about how hot it would be if I had your name on me?”

Eddie looks from you to Steve and the twitch is back in his eye again, “yeah,” he snipped.

“Well,” you whisper seductively, turning around and hiking up your skirt, “what do you think?”

Eddie’s fingers trace the raised tattooed skin on your ass cheek. It’s so silent in the dressing room, the only thing you can hear is the commotion going on outside. Eddie shuts the door.

“Do you like it?”

“You did this?” he asks Steve. When he nods in confirmation, Eddie’s hand grips tight on your ass before quickly smacking it right below the raw cherried skin.

He lowers your skirt delicately and spins you around. The first time since you’ve arrived he looks into your eyes, little traces of veins color underneath his eyes but quickly disappear.

“Sweet, sweet Cherry,” he purrs between a clenched jaw, “come sit with me.”

Steve has been standing by idle since being addressed. He didn’t know how Eddie would take to him being the one to tattoo you in such a delicate spot but he figured it would be better that it was him than anyone else. Now he’s second guessing this entire thing.

Once you and Eddie are sitting together on the leather sofa, he motions for Steve to sit in the chair across from him. He reaches into the mini fridge under the coffee table and pulls out three beers, opening them all before handing them out nonchalantly.

“Let’s do a toast shall we?” Eddie raises his beer with his left hand while you’re tucked into him tight by his right.

“To friends…”

“To friends…” you and Steve repeat awkwardly. This was anything but friendly.

“To friends who are more like family…” Again, Steve and you say it back.

“To friends who would touch and mark up my girl without even fucking asking me.”

The room grows silent again and Eddie loudly clanks his beer with yours and Steve’s causing the neck of his bottle to break.

You watch in stunned horror as he brings the bottle to his lips, the jagged edges cutting him deeply, but he doesn’t flinch. He keeps drinking as blood is dripping from his mouth and when you try to clean it up, he jerks his face away. When he’s finished he throws the bottle against the wall, splintering the drywall.

Steve shakes his head, knowing deep down that Eddie would never let this go.

“Steve, Steve, Steve…” Eddie chides, wiping a mixture of cold beer and blood from his mouth. “You and Cherry would have made quite the pair. You don’t learn, and she doesn't listen.”

“Eddie…”

“Not only did the two of you keep this from me, but you brought her here! To show her off like a fuckin’ pony while I’m—” the muscles in his neck and his arms tense into tight rubber bands, his eyes flicker to a hungry red, but he shakes it off with a roll of his neck, “—I’m busy, Steve! You know that!”

“It wasn’t like that!” you squeak in defense for Steve, and that tiny little defiance alone nearly sent Eddie over the edge. But surprisingly, he kept it together.

“C’mere,” he commands, pulling you onto his lap so you’re facing him, unable to see Steve. Out of sight, out of mind.

Eddie hated that you and Steve had nearly dated. He loathed that Steve had an entire year to know you, to make you laugh. When Steve came home for Winter break he wouldn’t stop talking about the girl from the frat party. Eddie was happy for him, truly. He knew after Nancy that he was never the same, and you seemed good for him. But that was before.

Now, after, when Steve and Eddie fled Hawkins and moved to where Steve had been attending college before he dropped out, all bets were off. That fall concert was all it took for Eddie to swoop in and steal you away, swaying everything you had once thought about Steve in your pretty brain and chipping away at it to make room for him, and only him.

“Eddie, please! It was my idea! I wanted to surprise you and… and I didn’t think you’d be so—”

“So? So, what?” he sneers,“so pissed that you let him touch you, let him mark you up? Did you expect me to thank him?!”

“C’mon man,” Steve tries, setting his beer down and talking calmly, “would you have wanted Spencer to do it? Or that twat Tommy? Because they’re the only other guys in town who kind of know what they’re doing. Infections and all.”

Eddie ignores him completely, he’s focusing solely on you, wanting answers from you. Him and Steve can settle this tonight. His large veiny hands are on your hips and he’s holding you in place firmly, demanding the truth from your eyes.

You’re practically in tears as you sit on his lap and yelp out a hiccuping rant.

“I thought you’d like it! We talked about it for months and you were so fucking into it. Now your tour is finally over and we should be relaxing and living our life together, and this is what you wanna do? Please Eddie, don’t be upset with me or Steve! He did nothing wrong, only what I asked him to do for you! Because I love you.”

You’re crying now. Frustrated and a little embarrassed of Eddie’s temper. Blood is still dripping from the deep cuts on his mouth, and you can’t help but cry more at the sight of it.

With unbridled tenderness, Eddie reaches to your face and you crane your cheek for his hand to cradle, a sensual little gesture. He wipes away a single tear from your cheek, bringing it to his lips and collecting the salty drop with his tongue.

His face turned to stone, an icy expression planted on as he murmured, “prove it.”

“What?”

He doesn’t blink, doesn’t stumble over his words. A simple cock of his head. “Right here. Right now. Show me, no! Show him that you’re mine.”

Steve shifts in his chair and stands up, heading towards the door, “I’m gonna—”

“Ah ah ah,” Eddie tuts, “you’re not going anywhere.”

Your heart is beating so fast you can't believe your ears. Is he serious? There’s no way.

“Eddie… c’mon.”

“Sit the fuck down Steve!”

Dark red eyes burn into him and Steve sits down obediently, knowing that if he refused it would only get worse.

You don’t dare look to him for any sort of objection, or a cry for help. If Eddie wanted to play this game, you’d play. Lowering yourself to the cold floor, you keep your eyes on him, carefully pulling at the zipper on his leather pants. You loved him and you knew he loved you.

This wasn’t your first time doing something intimate with Eddie publicly. In fact the balcony of your apartment had seen more than its fair share of your naked form bouncing against the railing as Eddie pounded into you. As did most of the class rooms on campus. Although you both liked to keep things spicy, this was a first of having someone watch.

His cock wasn’t leaking, it was barely hard when you pulled it from its tight confinements. Once your hand wrapped around his impressive girth and you pumped the velvety skin and tongued at his sack, he was rock solid.

You dribbled saliva and slurped around his head. Sucking him in and hollowing your cheeks, you release him with an audible ‘pop’. Your hand worked his shaft slow and steady in tandem with your lip gloss pout, your eyes never leaving his. When you took him whole in your mouth as much as you could, he groaned and cursed under his breath.

He was sitting heavy in your throat when you heard him murmur something but you couldn’t quite make it out. Popping off of his cock you replaced your hands where your mouth had been and slid them up and down with soft pressure and all the extra spit your throat held as you caught your breath.

“C’mere,” he demanded, using a crooked finger under your chin to bring you up to him. He pulled you onto his lap and you straddled his hips, trying not to picture the look on Steve’s face.

He kisses you hard, biting your swollen lips and licking his own blood from your mouth. “Rotten Cherry is my favorite Cherry,” Eddie preened, looking at your with dark hooded eyes, “but I’m gonna fuck you til you’re sweet again.”

Eddie ripped your panties to the side and slid himself into you, and per usual, you sheathed all of him until you were perfectly sat and you felt as if you were impaled.

Your delicate moans quickly became loud screams as Eddie worked your hips and pounded into you. With a grip on the rear of your skirt he drove up into your pussy at a brutal, delicious pace.

“Tell me,” he panted, “tell me whose girl you are.”

You’re whining and using his shoulders for leverage, but when you don’t answer Eddie slaps your ass.

“Yours Eddie, fuck!”

His eyes glistened, and he licked his lips ferociously, lining his mouth and teeth with his own blood.

“Did you hear that, Steve? Say it again for him, louder.”

“I’m yours!” you whine, as his hips piston into yours harder, “yours, Eddie!”

Eddie laughs wickedly, almost maniacal. He rubs his jaw with one hand and holds onto the back of your neck with the other, “you about to cum?” he taunts, “who’s making you feel good?”

“Only you,” you’re so close to cumming, it feels as if you’re on fire. His cock stretching you wide, a familiar ache that you never got enough of, “you make…oh shiiit, Eddie!”

“Fuck, that’s right, that’s my good girl,” he’s groaning and nearly there too, his hands gripped in your hair taking full control over your body, positioning it to his liking.

“T-take out your phone Harrington, I want you to get a picture of this, as a reminder. Because this is what you wanted right? Why you touched my girl. Why you marked her? For me, right?”

Eddie’s canines seemed to twinkle in the light as he flashed a murderous grin to his friend. Steve wished he was dead, wished Eddie never made that bargain for his life all those years ago. Death would be easier, better than this fucking hell he was trapped in.

Vecna could have him, he’d gladly sacrifice himself to save Eddie’s soul. To not see his best friend's humanity slowly slip away more and more with each offering he provided to that ugly, vine-infested Ursula wannabe. He'd sacrifice it all to save you.

Moving his thumb he unlocked his phone, opened the camera app and took the photo Eddie had demanded.

You came as the flash went off, and he sang your praises and was soon behind you, filling you full and holding you as you collapsed into him.

Steve pocketed his phone, turning away to light a cigarette with a shaky hand, his head hung in shame.

When you had regained a bit of strength, Eddie cleaned you up in the en-suite bathroom and called an Uber to bring you home. Kissing your knuckles first he brought you into his arms, whispering in your ear how he loved you. That you were his. He promised he’d be home soon, to wait and he’d join you in the bath.

Steve and Eddie watched as your Uber came and went,

waving their goodbyes. And once the tail lights were out of view, Eddie’s eyes fully blackened as he stared at Steve.

He took a deep breath before snarling, “you will never touch her again, understood? I don’t care if you thought once upon a time she was yours, those days are gone and she belongs to me.”

“She’s not property, you can’t claim h—”

Steve’s back breaks into the brick wall behind them, Eddie’s fist gripping his shirt.

“She. Is. Mine.” he snarled, his voice now warped like a ruined CD. This form he took on when he was pissed was much taller than he was a minute before, larger than any man.

His eyes were as red as the blood moon, a fiery glow behind them, a true glimpse into hell itself. Sharp teeth glowing like the stars, the wings he’d developed were darker and bigger with each offering, leathery skin wrapped taught around each bony juncture, spanning wider than a sedan.

To any naked human eye he was hideous, truly terrifying and worse than any creature Hollywood could develop.

But Steve was unphased, almost immune to this behavior, the short fuse temper that had the club’s bodyguards scared for their lives, some of them even turning into a meal when Eddie’s wrath couldn’t be contained.

“My friend,” he snapped next to Steve’s neck, “it seems to me you forget that you’re living on borrowed time.”

“I didn’t want this,” Steve said calmly, “you should have let me die like the others.”

“Oh stop being so dramatic Stevie,” Eddie preached in annoyance, “remember when you used to be fun? Now you’re constantly wallowing in self pity, holing yourself up like a hermit in that shop.”

Eddie lets Steve go and fixes his shirt for him, a wolfish smile to his now shrinking sharp teeth. “It would serve you well to remember the sacrifices made that night, and the benefits we both received because of it.”

Steve shoves a hand through his hair and pushes himself off the wall. Eddie returns to his human self, cracking his bones back into the appropriate lengths. Pushing the protruding horns back into his forehead, the cuts on his mouth from earlier now healed, no trace whatsoever of the deep punctures.

“Next time I catch your hand in Cherry’s sugar bowl, I won’t be so nice.” He turns on his heel, walking a few paces before calling over his shoulder. “Oh, and do send me that picture. You can keep it if you want, maybe it’ll give you some inspiration for your date with Lydia. Plus, I’m sure you’d like a little keepsake.”

With that Eddie winked and disappeared like a shadow, leaving Steve on the curb, alone with his thoughts and the trauma the night had brought.

He sent the picture once he got back to his loft above the tattoo parlor. His usual ashtray by the window already filled from the way he was chain smoking to try and take the edge off, keeping to his current form.

Deleting the picture as soon as the ‘delivered’ message arrived below the text, Steve wished he could at least shed a single tear. But as much as he tried, he knew he couldn’t. He hadn’t been able to since Spring break, years ago, when he was still considered alive.

His phone dings and it’s a text from Eddie.

ed: thinkin this will make a great album cover, what do ya think? 😈

Unlocking his phone, Steve replies with a thumbs up and sends his phone soaring across the room, shattering it against the concrete floor. Fuck he wished he could save you from this. Save that beautiful girl with a sweet soul, who smelled like cake and frosting.

The true love of Steve’s life, but instead he’s punished by being a witness to your downward spiral. Completely unaware and oblivious that you were in love with a creature of the night, his name now branded into your skin.

tag list: @debkk16 @eiightysixbaby @mugloversonly @writhingg @thecreelhouse

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie x you #Eddie Munson fanfiction #Eddie Munson fanfic #Steve harrington #Eddie x reader

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asphaltwhims · 4 months ago

Text

Edit this screenie with me!

This is an unused screenie of Penny Pizzazz and Marcus Flex. Feel free to save the screenshot (Dropbox link below) and follow along with the instructions, or play around with it and do your own thing! I’m going to keep the instructions as simple as possible; hopefully they make sense.

Note: My process is kinda involved, but it’s a relaxing hobby for me. You do not need to do all of these steps! If the process doesn’t bring you joy, don’t bother!

I’m using procreate, but I’m also a photoshop user. You can use any software that has layers and blend modes :)

Instructions and downloads under the cut!

Dropbox link to the screenshot, and overlays!

1. Let’s start with shadows. The first step is to create a new layer. Put the blend mode to “multiply” (this darkens anything you draw on the layer). Then select a soft brush. We’ll start with Penny’s face. Use the eyedropper tool to choose a shadowy color of her skin (hold your finger on the color you want).

2. Decide where the light will be coming from (we’ll be placing it behind them on the top left). Deepen the shadows already made by the game, and add some shadows opposite to where the light will be. Choose a darker color to match each area you’re drawing on (Penny’s hair, her shirt, Marcus’ skin, his sweater).

When you’re finished drawing the shadows, go into your layer and lower the opacity. Less is more!

3. Choose the eraser (set it to soft brush). With a light hand, soften any shaded areas that are too harsh. Basically you want to blend the shadow with the skin using the eraser. You can also use Gaussian blur!

4. Let’s add some background lighting. This will also be our guide as we add bolder highlights in the next steps. Make a new layer and set the blend mode to “add.” Take your soft brush and a yellowy-orange color, and draw some glowy light coming from the top left.

Lower the opacity and take the eraser and erase much of the light on the right side of Marcus, and erase a bit of the light on their skin/ hair/ etc (like we did with the shadows). You can use Gaussian blur here too!

Note about lighting and highlights: experiment with the color of light, because some will look better depending on the environment and the sims skin tones. Because Penny and Marcus have dark skin, a bolder or darker yellow/orange will look much better than a pale yellow.

5. Let’s start adding more highlights! Make another new layer and change the blend mode to “add.” Choose a yellow-orange and paint some highlights on Penny’s hair, her left shoulder, her chest, cheekbone, and the left side of Marcus’ face. I made the image on the left a different color so you can see where I put the highlights.

Lower the opacity, and use the eraser or Gaussian blur to blend.

6. More highlights! Make a new layer and set the blend mode to “overlay.” Overlay lightens while adding color. I use “light pen” for any outlined highlights (the outer left of Penny’s hair, Penny’s shoulder, the left side of Marcus’ face), and I use a soft brush for the rest. Lower with the opacity, and use the eraser to blend.

This is a great time to play around with other highlight colors! I’m sticking with yellows, so I chose a peach color. Note: the red is to show what I drew.

7. We’re going to import a light leak overlay, and set the layer to “screen.” Then take your eraser, and erase any areas where you don’t want there to be too much light (red areas).

Finally, I’ll merge the layers together and bump up the highlights by going to adjustments > curves. Then I’ll add noise, and a vintage dust overlay. Sometimes I do more than this, sometimes less. I also like to draw hair strands and stuff, but that’s a whole second tutorial.

#tutorial #resources #sims 4 resources

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starsinthesky5 · 3 months ago

Note

So we know how you said songbird went to his games when she could during the initial few months of them dating but stayed away from the cameras, fans, his suite, his family, etc. Tell us some deets about how all that went down? Like with her at the games? Did she have her own private box?? Did she ever bring her friends over? Or maybe his friends were keeping her company?

a/n: did this instead of an assignment and i'm fine with that. this was TOO cute for me

wc: 1.4k

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

oh yes. let’s get into the nitty-gritty deets of it all, because those early days of her going to his games? they were intimate in a way only the two of them really understood.

she was always careful about slipping in without being noticed—quiet, planned a whole route and everything. usually getting there early, before the stands began to fill, tucked into her little private suite with a drink in hand and a hoodie draped over her shoulders, or sometimes had one of his hats on. she’d keep her head down, avoid the main entrances, and wave off anyone offering to escort her through a more public route. this part of their relationship was still theirs, still private, and she intended to protect that.

she wasn’t there for show. no screaming her lungs out in the front row, no decked out head-to-toe in “burrow” gear and a ring light for instagram photos, and definitely no sitting with cameras panning over to her in the suite with his family—not yet. she wanted joe to know she supported him, but she wasn’t about to turn it into a spectacle. the relationship was still fresh, fragile in a way, and sacred. their little bubble meant everything.

joe handled it, though. of course he did. he pulled strings to get her a private box whenever she came—tucked up high, shaded glass, separate entrance so she didn’t have to go through the madness of the crowd. he even made sure she had her own pass so she could come in the back way at the stadium. always thinking of her. always protective.

and he went all out in there too—the suite was cozy, borderline romantic if you squinted. he had it decorated with some photos of them, posters of her from her performances over the years, some candles that she loved and placed around his house were also brought over, her favorite blankets in the cupboard because he knew she’d get cold. her favorite drink waiting on ice every time she came in, refills scheduled every hour. even snacks she mentioned casually once...

examples:

sour patch watermelon because he remembered her saying once that she only craved sour stuff when she was nervous. the box was always there. sometimes even two just in case ;)

soft pretzels & nacho cheese, a stadium classic—but joe had them bring in real ones. like, the big, buttery, fresh-baked kind, still warm, with that perfectly salty crust. and of course, multiple dipping options: classic cheese, honey mustard, and a spicy queso because he knew she liked a little kick.

fruit cups—but like, bougie ones. we’re talking fresh-cut strawberries, pineapple, mango, kiwi. no weird cantaloupe filler. she liked light, refreshing stuff, especially if she was sipping on a little rosé or a fruity seltzer while watching.

aaaand mini sliders because sometimes a girl needs real food. and joe made sure there were tiny burgers or chicken sliders on deck, with all her fave toppings. pickles on the side, obviously.

he’d even send a note with a team staffer—little scribbled words of appreciation and love from the locker room on a plain white napkin, even if they didn't directly call it love just yet, or inside jokes just to make her smile before kickoff. and the cutest thing was, she kept every single note in a little pink box :)

and when she brought her besties with her?? it chaos in the cutest way.

the private suite instantly turned into their little haven—the girls curled up in the seats with throw blankets, drinks in hand, all of them absolutely decked out in bengals gear. if she wasn't going to dress to the nines because she wanted to avoid the attention, they'd do it for her!

but...she still repped her man in subtle ways. the oversized black crewneck she wore casually over leggings? joe’s. it smelled like his cologne and had the faintest stain from some post-practice smoothie he swore wasn’t his fault. the dainty gold necklace glinting beneath her collar? it had a tiny football charm next to his number, something he got her on a whim and clasped around her neck before every game she came to. her nails were painted orange and black, one of her socks inside out (iykyk), and she even had a few bengals friendship bracelets on.

her friends loved to tease her—especially during warmups, when joe would jog out onto the field and glance up at the suite, looking for her the second he stepped on the turf.

"there he is," one of them would sigh dramatically, nudging her with a grin.

"your boy is literally staring up here like he's never seen sunlight until you walked in,".

"okay but do we blame him?" another chimed in. "i’d stare too. you’re hot,".

she’d just roll her eyes, cheeks warm, sipping her drink to hide the smile tugging at her lips. but she couldn’t deny it—not when he kept glancing up mid-drive, subtle little nods or smirks sent her way, like they were sharing a secret no one else could crack.

they’d whistle when he made a big play, shout "that's my brother-in-law!" just to mess with her, giggle anytime he did anything remotely cocky on the field because they knew he was showing off for her.

"you think he heard us?".

"oh, babe. he feels the energy,".

"honestly," one of them would joke during a timeout, "i think he plays better when you’re here. like, statistically. we should graph it,".

when she didn’t bring her own friends along to a game, joe would always make sure someone he trusted was there to keep her company—usually one of his high school boys, who treated her like one of them from day one. they’d keep things light, cracking jokes and tossing popcorn her way during slow stretches of the game, knowing exactly how to draw a laugh out of her. sometimes one of them would lounge back beside her, hoodie pulled over his head, teasing her like, "joey’s gonna be all smiles tonight if he knows you’re up here watching,".

and then there were other familiar faces—maybe a team staffer or someone from joe’s inner circle she’d gotten along with early on—who’d stop in to say hey or hang for a bit. nothing too formal, never overwhelming. just a chill vibe. easy, comfortable. like she belonged there, without ever needing the spotlight.

but when it was just her? oh, she’d be curled up, watching him like a hawk. she knew the game—grew up with it—so she wasn’t just there to look pretty. she was dissecting the plays, analyzing coverage, chewing on her lip when something got tense. the second he took a hit, her stomach dropped. and when he stood back up? the relief was palpable. she was dialed in. her whole body moved with the rhythm of the game. and joe? he knew she was there. he’d glance toward the boxes sometimes. just a flick of his eyes. no expression. but she’d catch it. and later, after the game—win or lose—he’d find her. press his forehead to hers and whisper, "i saw you," like it grounded him.

speaking of after the game, she’d stay late, too—waiting patiently in the quiet comfort when most of the stadium had emptied, her feet curled up beneath her on the plush couch, scrolling through photos of him from the game or absentmindedly scribbling song lyrics in her notebook.

and then he’d come find her.

he always did.

after he said his goodbyes to his parents and the media, after the interviews and locker room buzz faded, he’d slip into her suite like a secret just for her. cheeks a little flushed, hair damp from the shower, jersey swapped for a soft cotton tee and joggers.

"hi, baby," he’d murmur, eyes soft, voice smoother than honey like the game hadn’t just happened and all that mattered now was her.

and she’d grin, arms already outstretched. "hey, superstar,".

he’d cross the room in seconds, drop his bag, wrap her up in his arms and bury his face in her neck. all sweaty-boy affection and heart-swelling sweetness. sometimes he’d just hold her for a bit, like he needed to recharge, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her hoodie to find her skin.

"you waited for me," he’d mumble against her shoulder.

"always,".

and god—he’d melt. every time.

they didn’t need the world to know—not yet. because they knew. and those private little sundays? those were everything.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #yail asks #yail #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow blurb #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fic #cincinnati bengals #nfl imagine #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow fan fic

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s4nniebe4r · 4 months ago

Text

the roommate

part nine: outage

pairing: roommate! san x fem! reader

synopsis: the power is completely out forcing the two of you to deal with the unspoken tension and reach a breaking point

wc: 5.5k

tags: slow burn, roommates, enemies to lovers, angst, forced proximity, eventual romance

etc: lmk what you think, i’m excited for this chapter, and hope you receive it well! not proofread, liebchens!

previous part next part

The storm has been going for hours now, getting worse by the minute. It started as just another cold night, wind pushing against the windows, the occasional shake of the apartment walls, but at some point it turned into something a little stronger. Now the wind is pounding outside, rattling the glass, making the heater struggle to keep the apartment even remotely warm.

So you shift in your chair, tugging your comforter tighter around your shoulders as you stare at your laptop screen. Your fingers scroll through your open document. You’re supposed to be finishing this, but you haven’t written a word in nearly twenty minutes. The words on the screen seem to blur together, your mind too restless to focus. It’s the only source of light in your room aside from the soft glow of your bedside lamp and the dim light from the dim lamp from your dresser. The gold shades make the space feel slightly less suffocating, letting long, warm shadows flicker against the walls.

Still, it’s too cold. And it’s only getting colder. The apartment feels colder than usual. You roll your shoulders, trying to shake off the chill, but it seeps everywhere. The heater is still running, but it’s been weaker than usual, struggling. At this point, it’s barely there, pushing out anything it can. You’ve been trying to ignore it, telling yourself it’ll be fine, that it won’t actually give out, not again. But, by the way the air is slowly creeping back into your bones tells you otherwise. You tuck your legs up under yourself, adjusting your blanket as your fingers continue to hover over the keyboard.

Your phone is dead. You didn’t bother charging it, too determined to finish your coursework without distraction. Now, with nothing on your laptop and a few lights to illuminate the room, your apartment feels a little eerie under the storm.

You rub at your arms, trying to push through the chill, but it doesn’t help much. Your fingers are stiff, the cold seeping into your skin, making it harder to focus. This isn’t working. You sigh, shifting your position, trying to get comfortable once more, but it’s no use.

Then, the lights flicker.

Your stomach clenches immediately, unease sparking at the base of your spine. You freeze, watching as the warm glow of your lamp dims for a half-second before bouncing back. Your laptop screen switches to white before flickering back, the small hum of electricity in the room stuttering for a moment.

Don’t worry, you tell yourself.

You tap your fingers against the bed, waiting. Nothing happens. You let out a slow breath, forcing your shoulder to relax. It’s just the storm. The power won’t actually go out. Right?

You hear a faint creak from somewhere else in the apartment. You don’t think much of it though, San must be moving around in his room. You haven’t seen much of him today. Not that you’ve been trying to, but the tension from the past week still lingers, unspoken. After what almost happened between the two of you, you’ve both seemingly been avoiding each other, caught up in a game of who can pretend the other isn’t there better.

Another flicker. Longer this time.

You grip the sheets under you, letting your lips press together. The heater stutters again low and unsettling as it pushes through the vents.

You swallow. You should probably grab your charger, just in case anything does happen. Shoving your blanket aside, you stretch to the side, rolling the stiffness from your shoulders as you move toward your nightstand. Your hand almost grips the charger.

And then, everything dies.

Your room is instantly swallowed by darkness. Your lamps shut off all at once, leaving only the faintest flow of your laptop screen before it switches to a completely white screen. A gasp catches in your throat. The heater completely shuts now, as well. The air stops moving, the hum of electricity vanishes, and suddenly, the apartment is silent, the kind of silence that makes your ears ring.

You blink in the darkness, barely processing it before your laptop pings with a message. Please connect to Wi-Fi.

You let out a sharp, frustrated breath. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you say aloud to yourself.

You snap your laptop shut, your jaw tightening already. You already know what this means, the power is completely out. The heater’s done for. Your phone is dead because of course you forgot to charge it, and now, the apartment is going to get even colder than it already is, which seems about impossible. Without heat, it’s going to get unbearable fast.

Great.

Your fingers fumble in the darkness, reaching for your phone out of instinct, before remembering it’s dead. You exhale through your nose, trying not to let the frustration bubble over. You need to find a way to warm up before the temperature really starts to drop. So you shove yourself out of the bed and stand, pulling your comforter completely off of you as you step toward the door. You exhale, pressing your lips together before halfway blindly navigating your way toward the door. If the power’s out for you, it’s out for San, too.

And right then, another door creaks open down the hall.

The moment you step out into the hallway, your eyes trying to adjust to darkness, you see the figure of him. He’s already there. He’s standing in his doorway, phone in hand, the faint glow of screen illuminating his face. His brows are slightly furrowed, his usual unreadable expression tinged there with mild frustration.

Neither of you says anything. For a second, you both just stand there, lingering in the dark. Then without a word, San tilts his phone upward, flicking on the flashlight. The beam cuts through the dimness of the apartment, landing on the floor between you before he slowly shifts it up, scanning the hallway.

“Power’s out,” he states, his voice rough from lack of speaking.

“Yeah,” you breathe, shifting on your feet, trying to get used to the cold feeling. “No shit.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head slightly before stepping further into the hallway. “The heater’s out too.”

You don’t respond to him. The fact is obvious, but hearing him say it out loud makes your stomach twist again. You wrap your arms around yourself as another gust of wind rattles the windowpane beside you.

San’s phone flickers again, a small warning that his battery is on its last leg.

He notices, of course he does. And clicks his tongue. “You got a flashlight?”

You shake your head. “Phone’s dead.”

San exhales again, glancing down at his own screen before quickly swiping somewhere. The glow shifts slightly, the screen dimming as he does. Then without looking up, he asks, “Candles?”

You blink. “What?”

“You got any?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, under the sink.”

Without as much as another word, San steps past you toward the kitchen, and you force yourself to follow.

The apartment is unnervingly quiet. The only sound is the occasional scrape of furniture as you move around, gathering what little light sources you can find. The air already feels colder, the lack of heat seeping into the walls, and into your skin. San moves with ease though, his body language quite calm despite the situation at hand. He crouches down, rummaging under the sink with the flashlight while you hover near the counter, watching him work.

The silence between you stretches, heavy and thick. Then, after a beat, “How bad is it outside?” you ask, voice quieter than intended.

San doesn’t even look up. “Bad.”

You swallow, shifting your weight. “Like… landlord-fixing-it-tonight bad? Or?”

A sharp gust of wind cuts through the building, rattling the kitchen window so hard that you instinctively flinch. San’s hands still for a fraction of a second before he exhales, shaking his head.

“Doubt it.”

You press your lips together once more this evening. “Great.”

Another stretch of silence before San finally finds what he’s looking for, pulling out a set of candles and a lighter. He stands, clicking the lighter once, then twice, until a small flame flickers up.

Warm light illuminates his face, casting deep shadows across the features on his face, the flow flickering into his dark eyes.

You force yourself to look away.

The candlelight spreads as he lights more, placing them around the kitchen. The space shifts, now in a warm, golden tint. And for a moment, despite the cold, despite the situation, everything feels just a little softer now.

The candlelight flickers, stretching shadows across the walls, wrapping the apartment in the same soft glow, everything feels a little closer, quieter, different. You press your fingers against the smooth wax of an unlit candle on the counter, tracing idle patterns, trying not to focus on the way San’s face is illuminated in the dim light. The sharp edges of his jaw soften, the golden hues melting into his skin, casting his features in a way you’ve never really been able to take time to notice before.

He adjusts one of the candles, leaning forward slightly, and for a second, you think he’s going to say something. You wait, holding onto the quiet, but nothing comes. Instead he just exhales through his nose, flicking the lighter in his hand absently, the flame catching for a half a second before it’s snuffed out again.

It’s strange. The silence between you should feel tense, it has for the past few days now, more so than ever. But now, with the light flickering between you, it feels a little different.

You let your throat clear and shift your weight before looking the other way, unsure of what to do.

San glances at you. “You should grab more blankets.”

You nod, already backing toward the hallway. “Yeah. I was just thinking that.”

He hums in acknowledgment before turning back to the candles. You linger for a half second longer, watching the way the lights flicker against his skin before finally heading toward your room. And as you move, the air shifts again. It’s colder now. Quieter.

And for the first time in a while, you and him are alone together now. No distractions anymore, no more excuses for avoidance. There’s nowhere left to hide now.

You return to the living room with three blankets piled in your arms, their weight pressing against your chest as you maneuver carefully around the dimly lit space. The candles San set up as you were fetching the blankets flicker, letting the room sit in the soft, golden light, almost tricking you into feeling warmer than what the apartment really was.

San is still on the couch, one long leg stretches out whilst the other is bent at the knee, his elbow propped lazily against the armrest. He doesn’t say anything as you sit down, but he watches, eyes flicking briefly over the layers of fabric as you settle in. You pull your legs up onto the cushion knees tucked close against your chest, curling yourself into the warmth of the blankets.

San shifts slightly, back pressing against the armrest as he reaches out. Without a word, he pulls one blanket from your lap and drapes it over himself. You blink at him, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, just smoothing the fabric over his legs like it was his all along.

A small scoff escapes you. “You couldn’t have grabbed your own?”

San finally glances at you, expression unchanging, before settling deeper into the couch. “Why bother? You brought plenty.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t actually mind. You burrow further into your own warmth, adjusting your position so that you’re slightly angled toward him, not purposeful, but your chin rests on top of your knees now. The apartment is quiet, except for the occasional howl of wind outside and the crackling of candle wicks burning. It should feel awkward, but it doesn’t at least, not entirely.

San’s fingers drum idly against the edge of his blanket, his gaze drifting toward the nearest candle, watching the way the small flame wavers in the glass casing. Then after a beat, he exhales softly. “I used to love when school got canceled for snow days.”

You glance at him, eyebrows lifting at the sudden statement. He’s not looking at you, his eyes still fixed on the candlelight, but there’s something almost nostalgic sounding in his tone.

“Yeah?” you prompt, adjusting your grip on your blanket.

San hums in response. “Mhm. I’d sleep in, obviously. And then just… draw all day.”

That catches you off guard. “Draw?”

He finally glances at you, the slightest smirk ghosting over his lips. “Surprised?”

You hesitate, because… yeah, you are a little surprised. You’ve never actually seen him draw, but the way he says it, like it was a natural part of him, it makes you suddenly very aware of how much you just don’t know about him. You shift in your position, getting a little more comfortable, before asking, “What would you draw?”

San shrugs, leaning his head against the armrest, the candlelight catching in the sharp lines of haw. “Anything. Random stuff I saw outside. Characters from shows I watched. Sometimes I’d just sketch Byeol while she was curled up in my lap.”

The mention of his cat makes your lips twitch. “She really followed you everywhere, huh?”

“Like a little shadow,” he muses, a small chuckle left from under his breath. “If I moved, she moved. If I sat down, she was already in my lap before I could say anything to her.”

“That’s cute,” you admit, surprising yourself a little with the honesty in your town, your mouth working faster than your head.

San doesn’t react at first, but then he exhales, long and slow, shifting his position so that he's facing you a little more, his knee bumping lightly against your blanket-covered leg. “What about you?”

You tilt your head slightly at him. “What about me?”

He mirrors your head tilt, eyes flickering toward you under the low light. “What’d you do on snow days?”

Your mouth forms into an O shape. The question makes you pause, your fingers curling absently into the fabric of your blanket as memories flicker through your mind. “I don’t know,” you murmur after a moment. “I guess when I was little, my older sister and I used to build forts in the living room when the power went out. We’d grab every pillow and blanket we could find and just… hide in there until the morning.”

San hums softly, as if he’s picturing it. “Sounds fun.”

You shrug, giving him a loose, small smile. “It was, back then.” Your voice softens slightly. “I don’t really do anything like that now, I can’t afford to not have the blankets on me anymore. I mean, I don’t even think I’ve had a proper snow day since—”

“You’re still cold all the time,” San interrupts.

You blink. “What?”

His gaze flickers over you, lingering just a second too long. “You’re always cold. You’ve always got like, three layers on, at all times.”

You frown slightly, shifting in your seat. He’s not wrong, but hearing him say it so plainly, like he’s actually noticed something about you, it makes a strange warmth start to bloom somewhere in you.

“Well,” you say, trying to push past whatever you just felt, “some of us don’t have the luxury that is body heat.”

He lets out a small laugh at that, shaking his head. “It’s not my problem that you have zero insulation.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s something lighter settling between the two of you now. The silence that follows the comment isn’t tense, it’s easy, it’s familiar.

But then, San tilts his head slightly, his brows pulling together like he’s remembering something. “You’ve been busy lately,” he remarks casually.

Your fingers pause where they’ve been idly petting at the fabric of the blanket. “Yeah. Classes.”

San doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he watches you a second more, his fingers still drumming against his knee. Then. “That why you’ve been hanging out with Hongjoong and Seonghwa so much?”

Your breath catches every so slightly. Your grip tightens just a little onto the blanket. You keep your face neutral. “Yeah. Well that was preplanned.”

San nods slowly, but something in his expression changes. Like he doesn’t entirely believe you. There’s a stretch of silence before he shifts slightly, the blanket rustling over his legs. “You guys went to that gallery, right?”

You blink at him, unsure why he’s bringing this up. “Yeah? We’ve been meaning to go for a while.”

San hums, expression unreadable. “Right. Looked nice.”

You hesitate, there’s something about his tone making your stomach twist. It wasn’t his usual teasing tone. Maybe Mal-intent? Could it even be jealousy? “You saw the pictures?”

He exhales through his nose. “Mhm. Seonghwa posted them.”

You frown slightly. Didn’t know you kept up with Seonghwa’s socials like that.”

San’s jaw ticks for a half second before he shrugs. “I don’t.”

That is such a lie. But, you don’t call him out on it.

Instead, you exhale slowly, trying to smooth out the sudden tension creeping between the two of you. “It was fun. I haven’t been to a gallery in a while. I think Joong really enjoyed it too.”

San doesn’t say anything at first. His fingers still against his knee. Then, “And that study date with Wooyoung and Yeosang?” he asks, voice still casual, too casual.

Your brows furrow now this time. “How’d you know about that?”

San shifts, rolling his neck slightly, gaze flicking away just for a moment. “Woo mentioned something about it.” You stare at him, studying the smallest change in his expression, something a little too controlled, too calm.

“Ah,” you say after a beat. Your lips press together, something in your chest going tight. Your voice is a little quieter now as you look down to your hands fiddling with the blanket for a moment before looking back up. “Right. That makes sense.”

A flicker of something unreadable crosses San’s face. He looks like he wants to say something more, but instead he lets his head tip back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling above.

The flickering candlelight casts shadows along him, the curve of his neck, the definition of his adam’s apple bobbing through his throat, moving as he swallows. Everything is a little more defined, and a little softer, all at once.

You shift in your seat once again, the weight of the conversation pressing down on you, making all of your limbs feel much heavier. Something about this all seems off, somehow. You know you haven’t been around the apartment much lately, but you thought he hadn’t noticed it. Not like this.

You don’t know what to say. The silence stretches too long.

San exhales through his nose, leaning his head back against the armrest, his eyes half-lidded as he looks at you again, letting his eyes settle on yours. And then casually, so casually and a little offhandedly, he says, “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

You blink. Your breath catches before you can stop it. “What?”

He doesn’t repeat himself. He just watches you, the dim glow of the candles flickering across his face, making his expression that much more difficult to read as your mind races. Your pulse jumps. Maybe it’s instinct. Maybe it's a habit, muscle memory from every single time he's ever frustrated you beyond belief. But before you can stop yourself, the words slip through your lips. “And you don’t think I don’t feel the same?”

He lets out a breath, shaking his head slightly. He’s still leaning back against the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, fingers lightly tapping against the cushion. There’s not much to tell on his face, save for the slightest flicker in his gaze

“Wooyoung also told me something interesting earlier,” he says suddenly, his voice completely even.

You glance at him warily, already picking up on the shift in his tone. “...And?”

San tilts his head slightly downward, his eyes flitting toward you, watching, gauging your reaction before he speaks. “He said Yeosang was all over you the other night.”

Your brows pinch together, practically meeting each other, the words catching you off guard. Not at all what you were expecting him to say. You shift in your spot, you knee brushing against the blanket covering your lap, his own knee isn’t that far from yours, it’s close enough that if either of you moved, even slightly, you’d be touching. The realization sends a strange sort of awareness through you, but you push the thought down quickly.

“So?” you reply, voice flat, unimpressed with what he had to say.

He lets out a dry, humorless laugh, shuffling slightly. His arm slides further along the back of the couch, coming quite close to where your shoulder rests. Not quite touching, but you can feel the heat of his skin, the weight of his presence near you.

“I don’t know,” he says, lips curling at the edge, though there’s no humor in his eyes whatsoever. “Just thought that was interesting.”

You scoff, letting your hand fall from your lap to the couch cushion beneath you. “Yeo and I have been friends for years, San. Frankly, I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

His lips twitch slightly. “I never said it was.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Then why bring it up?”

San doesn’t answer right away. Instead he stares at you, almost as if he’s studying you, letting his gaze linger, his fingers flexing slightly against his knee. There’s something there, something just under the surface that you're waiting for him to let out.

“You tell me,” he finally says.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. “God, San, you’re absolutely impossible.”

San just smirks, like he enjoys the way your frustration starts bubbling up. Like he enjoys poking you, pushing you, getting under your skin. He always has, but it’s been a while. His eyes flit downward just enough to register the way your fingers curl against the cushion between you, knuckles tightening slightly. His fingers twitch, as if resisting the urge to do something about it.

“That’s rich coming from you,” he murmurs.

Your jaw tightens. “You’re insufferable.”

San just hums in response, a lazy almost teasing sound, but there’s something more than just his usual irritating behavior. And then, before you can think twice, you find yourself now muttering under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

“You drive me insane.”

And for a moment, the air in the room shifts.

San stills slightly, his fingers stop moving. The muscles in his jaw flicker, moving and working against each other. His eyes make their way toward yours, dark and steady.

Then, he tilts his head slightly, considering what you had to say. “What?”

Your stomach twists. Your pulse stumbles. You don’t know why, but the small couch suddenly feels even smaller, the space between you barely there. His knee has been brushing against yours, not by accident, but this time it’s deliberate, testing the waters. You don’t know why, but your breath catches, and he’s looking at you suddenly in a way that makes it harder to think. You shake your head, looking away, voice a little smaller than it was before. “Forget it.”

San doesn’t repeat himself. He doesn’t say anything. The silence is stretching now. It’s the kind of quiet that makes your skin feel a little too warm, even with the heater out. And before you even realize it, your hands are close. Too close. Your knees press together fully now, neither of you making any sort of effort to shift away. You feel his exhale more than you hear it, flush against your face.

And for some reason, you’re leaning in. or maybe, he is. But suddenly, the space between you is practically nonexistent.

San is close. So very close. You can smell him now, there’s a faint, lingering scent of his shampoo, he smells like a fresh summer day. It lingers in the air now, you can’t get it out of your mind, and it’s so distinctly him, nothing you’ve ever really noticed until you were really in his space. There's heat radiating from his body, even in the freezing apartment. It’s distracting, almost addicting. And your breath stutters.

Your eyes wander downward to the cushions.

His hand is right there. Inches from yours, splayed out and relaxed against the couch cushion, but you can feel the tension buzzing between your fingers, like electricity. You swear you see his fingers twitch, like they’re seconds away from reaching out.

When you glance back up, he’s already looking at you.

Your stomach tightens. He hasn’t looked away this entire time. His gaze is dark, sharp, and unreadable in the glow of the candlelight, but there’s something there, something pulling you, and it makes your lungs push against your ribs.

The room is so quiet that you swear you can hear his heartbeat. Or maybe it’s yours?

You don’t know how long you sit there, caught in the weight of his stare. Time seemingly dancing by, maybe it’s only been seconds, or even minutes. But it doesn't seem to matter much.

Then, as if waking up from a trance, your breath hitches, and you jolt back slightly, startled by the realization of just how close he is from you. And the first thing that comes to mind, you do, you shove him.

It’s not harsh, not at all, but the sudden push against his shoulder makes him shift back slightly.

He blinks, like you just snapped him out of something, himself. Then, just as quickly his hand moves.

Before you can register it, his fingers wrap around your wrist. The warmth of touch spreads immediately against your skin, sending a sharp current up your arm. The arm that you used to shove him, now splayed across his forearm.

Your chest tightens, your breath catching once more. He isn’t letting go.

The moment stretches, lingers. Then, before you can pull away, before you can properly react, he tugs you in. Not roughly. Not forcefully. But firmly, deliberately.

You barely have another second to process it before his other hand lifts, fingertips grazing your jaw, mirroring the night just a week ago. This time, he’s pressing it against the side of your neck. His thumb swipes over the soft skin there, a light and fleeting touch, but it manages it to render you without breath.

His brows furrow slightly, like he’s searching for something in your expression. Like he’s looking for a reason to stop. Anything.

But you don’t give him one.

You let your eyes flutter shut. And your hand pulls it’s way up from his forearm to his shoulder, letting your fingers curl there, anchoring yourself to him as you let yourself lean in ever so slowly.

San pulls you in the rest of the way.

It crashes into you all at once. Months of irritation, weeks of frustration, and most recently, days of explicit avoidance, all of it erupting in this moment.

His lips press against your, not soft, not tentative, it’s intense and consuming. He’s kissing you like he’s needed to do this for longer than he’s willing to admit. His fingers tighten slightly at your neck, now letting his hand move to the back of your neck, cradling your head in his hand. His other hand pulls it’s way from your wrist up your arm, tracing the shape of your neck before finally finding purchase at your jaw, cupping it. His thumb tilting your jaw up just enough to deepen the kiss.

Your heart is slamming against your throat now, and you’re sure he can feel it through his fingers. Your own hand grips at his shoulder, your fingertips digging into the fabric of his hoodie as you kiss him back just as desperately.

His hand at your jaw is cupping it now fully, holding you there. Like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. Like this moment will slip through his fingers like the last time.

But you don’t.

You stay.

For once, you don’t think. You don’t hesitate. You just let yourself feel. And San doesn’t stop. Not right away. Not when his fingers trace lightly against your skin, not when your breath mixes with his, not when the warmth between the two of you is so overwhelming that the cold of the apartment doesn’t even register to you anymore.

He only pulls away when the both of you need a moment to breathe. When he does, it’s slow. He lingers for a second, like he doesn’t want to break contact completely, like he’s still caught in the gravity of it all.

Your eyes open, adjusting to the dim light of the living room once more, meeting his eyes immediately.

Everything feels different to the last time you were looking at him.

His hand is still on the back of your neck, his other one is still holding your cheek. Your hand still is gripping onto the fabric of his hoodie. Neither of you moves. Neither of you speaks. You sit there, in the thick silence.

And then, San’s fingers twitch slightly against your skin. He lets out a slow breath, barely audible, like he’s trying to process what the hell just happened. Now, for the first time since you’ve met him, you see it, something real, something raw. And you’re not quite sure what to do with it.

Your breath is still uneven. It’s the first thing you really notice of yourself. Your chest is rising and falling too fast, your pulse hammering in your ear, your skin still tingling the place he touches. The apartment is dead silent. And San is still close.

You can feel the warmth of him, see the way his lips part slightly, like he’s trying to form words, but is unable to. His hand is still there. The one resting against your jaw. His thumb against your cheek, lingering, not ready to let go. And your fingers still curled into his hoodie, like you need something to keep you steady, to keep you upright.

And then his fingers move. Slowly. Barely a shift at all. His thumb traces along your jaw, down to the base of your neck, so featherlight, so absentminded, it sends a shiver straight down your spine, you almost lean into the touch of his hand.

You should say something. You should move away.

But you don’t. Because you can’t. And because you don’t want to.

Then there’s the weight of his stare. It’s unbearable. It’s everything.

San exhales sharply, and you feel it. You feel it against your skin, and it sends yet another shiver through you. And for a moment, you think he’s about to say something. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he moves again. This time he’s pulling you in. Slow and cautious. It’s not rushed. It’s not frantic like before. This time, it’s like he’s giving you time to stop him.

You don’t. You let him.

You let him pull you in until you’re against his chest as he rests against the couch’s armrest, almost completely flush with the cushions beneath him. Until his arms shift, wrapping around you, until the warmth of him completely engulfs you. You don’t think. You just let it happen. You feel the rise and fall of his breathing, his solid frame, the way his chin nearly rests against your head.

He lets out a breath, one that’s deep, steadying, like he’s still trying to get a grasp on reality again.

The blanket shifts as he tugs it over the both of you. And just like that, you’re tucked against him, away from the cold, from everything.

Your fingers twitch slightly. You don’t know where to put them. Then, before you can figure it out, his hand moves again. This time it’s in your hair. His fingers slide through the strands, slow, absentminded, as if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. He lets his fingers card through your hair, stroking at it, maybe he needs it more than you. And it makes your stomach twist.

Your fingers finally find something to do; you clutch onto his hoodie again, gripping slightly tighter.

And neither of you speaks. Because what the hell is there to say?

All you can do is listen. To the way his heartbeat sounds beneath your ear, thrumming through you. To the sounds of his slow, steady breathing. The way the candles flicker and crackle softly in the background.

And you’re not sure when it happens, but your eyelids begin to feel heavier and heavier. And before you can think more about it, you let your head fall into his chest.

taglist

@kryscent @randajjjad @yutapeaxh @barbielibra @sheadoreswalls @candied-czennie @decaffeinatedpandabread @sannieworshipper @pirateprincessblog @zeeader @frecklyfelix @serotoninbarbz

(please lmk if you’ve been missed out or i’ve entered your user wrong!)

#choi san #san #san ff #san fanfic #san fluff #san soft hours #san x reader #ateez fluff #ateez soft hours #ateez #ateez soft thoughts #ateez chou san #ateez san #choi san x reader #choi san fanfic #choi san ff #choi san fic

258 notes · View notes

obscure-entity · 2 years ago

Note

your shading is AMAZING specially when its conveying organic forms..... do you have any tips for people who dont know wrf going on (with shading)

ok so HI. hi. my old tutorial pisses me off so i will make a new one

i made a guy whose sole purpose is to be shaded so dont worry he likes it. and his name. his name will be mr. Boob. mr boob does not have to be blue

theres probably way better explanations of how to do it but unfortunately trying to "emulate" shading does ask you to somewhat understand ur character in a 3d way. like what would the 2d shape be if you "sliced" it? mr boob is made of so many circles. his tail also does a kind of weird perspective foreshortening thing because its pointing at you. is this being conveyed

you obviuously dont have to draw a horrendous grid on your characters skin to do this . BUT it helps you put down (or at least envision) the lines of the form shading :

dont worry about cast shadows or the shading color because this is FORM SHADOW time only. think about what surfaces of the character are obviously facing away from the light source and put down the "separation line" of the shading based on that. thr most important thing is that youre trying to separate light from dark

im going to pick the first one for cast shadows bc it will be the most obvious to me

ok so. his ears and snout are blocking other surfaces of his body from the light, which means a shadow is cast!!!! bam. i saw someone describe cast shadows as what the light's pov "can't see." his entire body is putting down a cast shadow on the ground too

im impatient so i blended the form shadows now. its usually the easiest to just NOT blend cast shadows as a way of conveying that they are still cast shadows. but you can still blend them if you want to show "distance" between the obstruction and the surface its blocking. but its just a way of saying form and cast shadows should not be treated the same even if their softness coincides

im going to lump reflection and ambient light together because theyre like. similar. reflections dont just happen in mirrors

since the sky is blue, making the ambient lighting, i tinged mr. boobs existing shadow to be a bit blue. (*this is kind of important because it can help you decide a shading color, which should USUALLY be based on the environment) (unless your character is just in the transparent void then it doesnt matter)

since the ground is pink, i made pink light bounce off of him. pointed and labelled. i dont rlly know how to go more in depth than that

contact shadows are literally shadows formed from direct-touching contact. very little light can reach in there, even from how reflections disperse, which means youre free to use the darkest color available (black). in this case mr. boob is making contact with the floor. because he is sitting on the floor.

i touched him up a bit and wow!!!!!!!!!! look at mr. boob!!! he is so beautifully sculpted.

and one more thing

thats right. i made mr boob PINK. hes fucking ruined now. just kidding i would never say that to him

what im trying to convey here (its the easiest with really light colors) is a transitional color. this can also show subsurface scattering depending on how you use it which is fun to look at. the mistake i made on my last tutorial was "Just pick a warm saturated color!" which is really wrong in examples like Blue mr boob. because it would be weird to use a warm color to transition from blue to blue.

if you have a character that isn't bright enough then obviously the shadows wont be as visible. its BEST to bring more attention to highlights and reflections to reveal the form a bit. they play the biggest role with darker colors

thats all i can think of. fun things to look up:

structuralization + contour lines + foreshortening etc. 3d lingo

form shadows

cast shadows

ambient light

contact shadows

subsurface scattering

im also just speaking out of my ass otherwise. i didnt look up any of these terms until the end now im inferring and hoping i got them right

and remember every time you shade mr boob will be rooting for you

#art tutorial #shading #lighting #long post

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v6quewrlds · 7 months ago

Note

Dad Joe who accidently hurts their daughter while doing her hair, and he feels bad and comforts her and gives her treats, etc. The reader comes home to the both of them, passed out on the couch, watching a movie with treat wrappers around them. Joe wakes up and explains and comforts him, telling him it was a common accident. Just thought it would be fluffy and sweet.

♡♡♡

joe looked down at his illuminated phone screen. 10 am. he had been at this for an hour and a half already. this was his first time attempting to take care of amara's dark coils alone, and your written instructions were more complex than any playbook he had ever studied.

he had somewhat successfully gotten through the wash routine but the detangling process was a whole different story. he knew he had to be gentle, but it was so easy to get lost in his concentration and accidentally yank too hard.

amara scrunched up her nose and closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable tug. joe took a deep breath and gently pulled the comb through her hair, creating a part down the middle. "perfect," he whispered to her reflection, his voice full of pride.

he picked up the tiny hair ties, each one a vibrant shade of pink, and began to separate her hair into two sections. the first pigtail went up without a hitch. but as he moved to the second section, his fingers slipped, and the comb snagged on a particularly stubborn coil.

"ow!" amara whined, her eyes flying open. tears spilled down her cheeks, and joe's heart clenched. he had been so close. he gently brushed the tears away with his thumb, his eyes filled with apology. he set the comb down and picked her up, cradling her in his arms.

her little body trembled with sobs as he held her, and joe felt his own eyes sting with the pain of knowing his baby was hurt. "i'm sorry, amara," he said again, his voice soft with whispered emotion. "i'm so sorry. did that hurt really bad?"

amara nodded, her chin wobbling as she buried her face into his shoulder. "how about some candy?" joe offered, trying to lighten the mood as he carried her to the kitchen. "it's our little secret, okay?" he opened the pantry and pulled out a bag of her favorite mini reese's cups, the sweet smell wafting through the room.

amara's sobs slowed as she looked up at him with curiosity, her eyes red and puffy. "candy?" she sniffled.

he placed her in the high chair and gave her one of the mini-cups, watching her face light up as she took a bite. he sat opposite her, his eyes watching her expression carefully as they shared the sweet treat. the chocolate stuck to her fingers and her cheeks, but joe didn't mind. it was a small price to pay for the small giggle that escaped her mouth.

with renewed patience, joe began to braid the second pigtail, taking his time with each strand. his large fingers worked deftly, despite their size, as he carefully shaped amara's hair into the style nyla had taught him. the kitchen grew quiet except for the sound of their munching and occasional giggles as joe tickled her neck with the end of the braid.

"all done, pumpkin, wanna take a look?" joe held out his phone, the camera app open and ready to capture the moment. she nodded eagerly, her eyes wide with excitement.

he snapped a picture of her with her new hairstyle, amara's smile was a mix of joy and relief, her eyes shining with excitement to show her mommy. "look how pretty you are," joe said, his voice full of pride as he held up the phone for her to see. she beamed back at him, a chocolate smear on her cheek adding to the charm of the moment.

they cuddled on the couch, joe's strong arms wrapped around her as they watched her favorite cartoons. the comforting embrace helped soothe any remaining sting from the hair-pulling incident. her head lolled onto his shoulder, and he felt her breathing even out as the sugar rush from the candy began to wear off.

joe's eyes began to droop, his eyelids growing heavy with sleep. amara's soft snores grew louder, synchronizing with his own deepening breaths. he knew he should clean her up before you returned, but the warmth of her tiny body pressed against his own was too comforting to resist. soon, they were both fast asleep, their snores echoing in the quiet room.

the door creaked open, and you stepped in, your sneakers squeaking against the hardwood floor. the sight before you made you smile, despite the mess of hair products scattered across the table. joe and amara slept peacefully, with chocolate smudges on amara's face and the brown wrappers of the mini reese's cups scattered like confetti around them.

you couldn't help but chuckle at joe's expression - a mix of exhaustion and contentment. it wasn't often you saw your husband so at ease. here he was, snoring lightly, his chest rising and falling with the same rhythm as your daughter's.

setting your groceries down, you took out your phone and snapped a few photos of the two of them, capturing the tender moment and sending it off to the grandparents' groupchat. the image of joe's gentle embrace, amara's head nestled into the crook of his neck, was one you knew would be framed and cherished. despite his grumbling about your complicated hair care instructions, he had clearly risen to the occasion.

#&. joey b.#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fluff #black fem reader #x black fem reader #black!reader #x black reader #black reader

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rosachae · 2 months ago

Text

deja vu | manon x reader

⁍ song: myth - beach house ⁍ requested: yes-- thank you anon! ⁍ genre: AU! angsty, bittersweet ending. grief and acceptance in different fonts. ⁍ a/n: i hope this is what you were looking for, anon. sorry for delay in getting this out! ⁍ wc: 9.9k ⁍ warnings: heavy depictions of grief and death. mentions of mental illness, sickness, surgery, medication, etc. please read with discretion. ⁍ synopsis:

y/n, for as long as she can remember, has always dreaded falling asleep. her dreams are plagued by memories of a girl. each and every time, she lives a life with her. each and every time, it ends in heartbreak.

the idea of soulmates isn't wrapped in myth or fantasy. there's no magic thread tying fates together, no divine hand deciding who belongs to whom. but still, it feels real in its own quiet, mysterious way. people speak of it in hushed tones, describing sudden connections that strike like lightning. strangers lock eyes and feel as if they've known each other for centuries. some are shaken by deja vu so intense it leaves them breathless. others dream the same dreams on the same nights, caught in a strange, shared familiarity. science has no name for it. the world just accepts that sometimes, two souls find each other and remember.

for y/n, remembering isn't tender. it's not some miracle to chase or cherish. it's a cycle of sorrow that follows her into sleep, again and again. she dreams in sharp, vivid color, trapped in lives she can’t recall by day but can’t escape by night. and always, at the center of it all, there’s the same woman. a fierce, beautiful stranger who feels more like a missing limb than a memory. y/n meets her over and over, in different centuries, different bodies, different lives. they find each other and lose each other, always torn apart by something cruel and unseen. like their story was carved in stone long before they ever lived it.

the dreams aren't fragments or fading whispers. they're entire worlds. she lives them fully, loves fiercely, and dies a little each time she wakes. in one life, the woman bleeds out in her arms on a battlefield turned to ash. in another, she disappears into a storm that swallows the sea. always, it's loss. always, it's heartbreak.

the weight of it bleeds into her waking life. she carries grief in her bones, hollow in places she can't explain. she's learned to build her life around absence. to keep her distance. to avoid anything that might stir that old, aching recognition. people think she's cold, guarded, maybe afraid of love. they don't understand that she's loved a hundred times and lost a hundred more, all in the span of sleep.

she doesn’t walk alone. she walks with the echoes of a hundred endings. haunted not by a ghost, but by a soul she keeps finding and losing. and deep down, more than anything, she's terrified it’ll happen again.

the psychiatrists office sits on the top floor of an old building downtown, the kind with creaking stairs and an elevator that groans like it’s doing you a favor. it’s not the kind of place that promises peace or healing. the walls are painted in muted shades that aimed for calming but landed closer to worn out. a soft, sagging armchair waits under a crooked floor lamp that hums faintly when it’s on. there are no framed quotes about growth or resilience, no carefully placed succulents in trendy pots. just shelves crowded with books that have been read too many times and the faint, lingering smell of mint tea mixed with dust.

y/n sits cross legged on the couch, her shoulders tight, fingers tangled in her lap. her posture is practiced stillness, but tension hums beneath it. outside the window, the city murmurs. traffic lights blink in steady rhythm, a car horn groans in the distance, tires hiss over wet pavement. the world moves on, indifferent.

inside, the room is quiet. the air conditioner hums softly, and every now and then, there’s the sound of a pen scratching across paper. taeyeon sits across from her, steady and composed, taking notes with a kind of quiet precision that makes y/n feel exposed.

taeyeon is a psychiatrist. her presence is gentle, but clinical. her voice is low and even, each word measured, careful not to press too hard. she never rushes, never interrupts. she has the kind of calm that makes y/n ache with something sharp and shapeless, part envy, part resentment. taeyeon was calm in a way that y/n could only dream of.

“how many nights this week?” taeyeon asked, clicking her pen once before jotting something down.

“five,” y/n said, her voice barely more than a breath. “same woman. different place.”

taeyeon nodded slowly. “can you tell me about the most recent one?”

y/n exhaled through her nose, like the memory hurt to touch. “a desert. sand everywhere. in the air, in my mouth, in my lungs. we were running. hiding. i don’t know from what. she had a scar along her jaw and a cloth wrapped around her wrist, like she was bleeding. but she smiled at me like everything was fine.”

“and did you recognize her again?” taeyeon’s voice was calm, careful. not dismissive, not probing too hard. she had learned how to ask without denying. not with y/n.

“always,” y/n whispered. “it’s always her. different bodies, different voices, but the same eyes. i just know.”

taeyeon tapped the tip of her pen against the paper, thoughtful. “how did it end?”

“same as always,” y/n said. “i lost her. the world started falling apart or she just vanished. sometimes she dies. sometimes i do. and then i wake up crying, and i can’t breathe, and it takes a while before i remember where i am. before i feel real again.”

there was a pause. taeyeon leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees.

“we’ve talked about dissociation,” she said gently. “how powerful dreams like this can sometimes be the mind’s way of processing trauma. especially when they’re this vivid, this consistent. it can feel like you’re living two lives. like your brain is carrying something too heavy to face all at once, so it breaks it into pieces you only see when you’re sleeping.”

y/n couldn’t help the quiet scoff that slipped out. dissociation. of course.

they always said the same things. dissociative episodes. unresolved trauma. recurrent nightmares. some leaned toward ptsd, others floated terms like delusional attachment or maladaptive daydreaming. one suggested a rare sleep disorder. they circled her like they were mapping a storm they couldn’t predict, naming symptoms like they were anchors, like labels could keep her from drifting too far.

but none of it touched the truth of it. none of it explained how it felt like her soul kept getting dragged through time, tethered to a stranger who never stayed.

y/n nodded regardless, but her expression was distant. “but what if it’s not just trauma? what if it is real? what if i’m not broken? what if my soul just… remembers?”

taeyeon didn’t answer right away. instead, she let the question hover between them like smoke.

“i believe your pain is real,” she said carefully. “your grief, your connection, your fear of losing her. all of it. i’m not here to tell you what’s real and what isn’t. i’m here to help you stay anchored, no matter what the answer turns out to be.”

y/n laughed, but there was no humor in it. “anchored. i feel like i’m drowning in someone else’s life. like i’ve already lived and died a thousand times, and i don’t have any of the good parts to show for it. just the endings.”

taeyeon softened. “that sounds exhausting.”

“it is.” y/n’s voice cracked. “and the worst part? i feel like i’m grieving someone i’ve never even met. and no one gets it. no one sees it as real grief. not even me, most of the time. it just… hurts.”

taeyeon nodded slowly. “grief doesn’t need permission. it doesn’t need logic. your mind, your body, your heart—they’re all carrying something. whether it’s memory or metaphor, it deserves to be processed.”

“but what if i never stop dreaming of her?” y/n whispered. “what if i’m meant to keep losing her forever?”

“then we figure out how to live in between the dreams,” taeyeon said. “how to find meaning in the spaces where you’re awake. how to hold on to yourself. you’re not here to solve every life you’ve lived. you’re here to live this one.”

the silence that followed wasn’t heavy. it was necessary. y/n stared out the window, watching the sky shift from steel to amber. somewhere below, a siren wailed. the city moved on, uncaring. but in this room, in this breath, she felt just the smallest flicker of stillness.

taeyeon didn’t speak again right away, and y/n was grateful for it. sometimes silence was the most honest part of these sessions. not everything needed a tidy response, a plan, a labeled diagnosis. sometimes it was just about making it to the next breath without sinking.

“do you think i’m delusional?” y/n asked at last, her eyes fixed on the window. her voice was flat, but her fingers tightened around the edge of her sleeve.

“no,” taeyeon said, calm and certain. “i think your mind is telling a story your body hasn’t finished understanding. maybe it’s rooted in trauma. maybe it’s memory. maybe it’s something we don’t have language for yet. but that doesn’t make it delusion.”

y/n turned her head slowly. “but no one else dreams like this. no one else wakes up with bruises shaped like hands they’ve never touched. or with songs on their lips they’ve never heard before. i speak languages i’ve never learned. i wake up missing her like she just walked out of the room.”

taeyeon wrote something down, but her eyes never left y/n. “have you ever told anyone that part?”

“no.” she paused, her voice low. “i stopped trying. people look at me like i’m breakable. or lying. or worse... like i’m something to be afraid of.”

there was a long pause.

“can i ask you something?” taeyeon said.

y/n gave a small nod.

“if it’s real—your dreams, the woman, the loss—what do you think you’re meant to do with it in this life?”

the question landed between them like a stone dropped into water. not heavy, but deep. it sank fast, and y/n felt the ripple of it in her chest, behind her ribs where the grief always settled.

“i don’t know,” she said quietly. “i think… i’m afraid i’ll never find her here. or worse, that i will, and i won’t recognize her until it’s too late.”

taeyeon’s voice stayed soft, steady. “what if it’s not about finding her at all? what if it’s about becoming the version of you who can survive losing her? or maybe… the one who doesn’t lose her at all?”

the thought felt like an open wound and a balm all at once. y/n looked down at her hands, her thumbs rubbing together in slow circles, a nervous ritual she barely noticed anymore.

“that version of me would have to be a lot stronger than this,” she said quietly.

“maybe,” taeyeon replied. “or maybe she’s already here, underneath the grief.”

the clock ticked softly in the corner, marking the end of the session, but neither of them moved. the city outside had shifted again. a wind stirred through the alley below, carrying the distant sound of footsteps and voices and life.

“same time next week?” taeyeon asked eventually, her voice light, as if the conversation hadn’t just opened a door that couldn’t be closed again.

y/n stood slowly, wrapping her coat around her like armor. “yeah,” she said, though she wasn’t sure what next week would bring. maybe another dream. maybe another ending.

the hallway outside taeyeon’s office was dim and narrow, lit by flickering fluorescent lights that buzzed just enough to feel wrong. the carpet was a tired gray, worn thin in spots, and the air smelled faintly of old coffee and overused cleaning spray. y/n took the stairs instead of the elevator, her steps slow and careful. she didn’t like the sound of her own breath in tight spaces, not after sessions like this. everything inside her felt too exposed, like her skin didn’t fit quite right.

by the time she stepped outside, the sky had settled into dusk. cars moved past in quiet waves, headlights blinking on one by one. the breeze carried the damp scent of distant rain and exhaust. she pulled her collar up and slipped the folded prescription into her coat pocket like it was something she didn’t want anyone to see.

quetiapine.

low dose. for sleep, taeyeon had said. for the emotions. for the edges. something to soften the line between the dreams and waking life.

“just something to ground you,” she’d added, voice gentle.

y/n hadn’t argued. but she hadn’t said yes either.

at the corner, she paused beneath a flickering streetlamp. the script crinkled in her pocket like a secret. the words felt heavy. antipsychotic. sedative. off-label.

none of them felt like they belonged to her.

she didn’t feel sick. not in the way they meant. she didn’t feel like her mind was broken. if anything, the dreams were the only things that felt consistent, real, even if they tore her apart. it was the waking world that felt fragmented. like a life half-lived. like her body was here but her soul had its bags half-packed, always waiting for a call back to somewhere else.

she crossed the street without looking, cars slowing around her like she wasn’t really there. the pharmacy on 9th street glowed too brightly, its glass doors sliding open with a sterile hiss. she stood just inside, the cold air conditioning raising goosebumps on her arms, and stared down at the slip of paper in her hand.

her name. her date of birth. the drug. the dosage. instructions in bold print. take one at bedtime. do not operate heavy machinery. may cause drowsiness.

none of it said what she really wanted.

may stop you from dying over and over again in your sleep.may dull the face of the woman who keeps saying “found you.”may silence the only part of your life that feels like truth.

“can i help you?” the pharmacist asked, polite, rehearsed, unaware of the war playing out behind her eyes.

y/n hesitated. then handed the paper over.

when she left twenty minutes later, a small white bag folded shut in her hand, she felt no relief. no sense of control. only a deeper kind of uncertainty.

because she knew what was waiting for her when she closed her eyes.

and she didn’t know what scared her more. seeing the woman again or the possibility that this time, she wouldn’t at all.

she moved on instinct, letting her feet carry her forward while her mind drifted somewhere else entirely. head bowed low, shoulders curled inward like she could shrink out of existence if she tried hard enough. around her, the city pulsed with people who had places to be and lives to live, all of them tethered to their own distractions. she kept walking, each step a blur, vision unfocused as thoughts piled on top of each other in a fog she couldn’t cut through. then, as she turned a corner sharply without thinking, her body moving faster than her awareness could catch up, she slammed shoulder first into someone heading the opposite direction. the sudden jolt snapped her out of her spiral like a slap to the face. she almost dropped her bag.

the impact wasn’t hard, but it knocked her a step back. the other girl stumbled too, letting out a soft, surprised gasp. y/n opened her mouth to apologize, her reflex already halfway formed. sorry, i didn’t see you— the words were on the tip of her tongue. but the moment their eyes met, everything stopped. her words fell to a muted breath. time didn’t slow. it fractured.

she hadn’t meant to look up. it was just a reflex, a flicker of attention at the sudden jolt of impact.

the girl was tall. braids framed her face, a few loose strands curling at her cheekbone like they belonged there. she was pretty in a way that made you look twice without meaning to. golden skin, soft curls pulled back just enough to show the shape of her face, and eyes that held something quiet but certain. everything about her was put together without trying too hard, like beauty had always just come naturally to her.

but her eyes. her eyes were the thing that undid y/n.

they were wide and deep, dark enough to drown in, and so achingly familiar that y/n’s breath caught in her throat. it wasn’t recognition in the normal sense. it was older than that, buried in the marrow. it was the kind of knowing you don’t earn in one lifetime.

those eyes had looked at her through fire. through battlefield smoke. across oceans. in dreams. in death.

she knew them. and for a second, the girl looked like she knew her too.

“are you—” the girl started, voice quiet, edged with a question she hadn’t figured out how to ask.

y/n’s heart slammed against her ribs. and then, she turned. her footsteps had never before in her life felt so heavy as she walked away. it was the only thing she could do. if she didn’t, she’d say her name without ever having heard it. if she stayed, she’d never be able to leave again.

behind her, the girl stood still, watching. not following. not calling out. but something had shifted.

deja vu had never felt more tangible.

manon wouldn’t call herself a hopeless romantic. not exactly. she liked the idea of love, sure, the kind that made your chest ache and your world tilt on its axis. but more than that, she liked the promise of it. the cinematic kind, drenched in golden light and dramatic pauses, the kind where someone looks at you like they already know the ending and still want to live every second of the story anyway.

she wasn’t naive, not really. she knew love wasn’t always soft or beautiful. she just liked to believe it could be.

she watched movies like twilight not because she believed in vampires, but because she believed in the way edward looked at bella like the sun finally had a rival. she cried at the end of 10 things i hate about you. she read books like scripture. she fell in love at least twice a week, usually with strangers on the train or characters in a playlist.

her friends orbited her like moons around some untamable sun. they filled her life with noise and comfort, and manon loved them for it. loved the way they let her be loud and messy.

she danced with her headphones in, full volume, hips swaying as she folded laundry or cooked or waited for her nail polish to dry. sometimes she danced in public, in line at the bodega or waiting for the light.

she was so, unashamedly herself.

so when she turned the corner that evening and bumped into someone—really bumped, hard enough that her shoulder throbbed for a second—she barely blinked. she started to apologize, hand halfway raised in that instinctive, easy way she’d always had. but then the girl looked at her, and manon forgot the rest of the sentence.

there was something in that stare. something raw and terrified, like manon had reached out and touched a memory that didn’t belong to her. her smile faltered. her heart stuttered in a way it never had before, not even during all the silly crushes or movie moments.

the girl’s eyes were wide and wild, and she looked at manon like she might fall apart just from being seen.

“are you—” manon started, unsure what the hell she was even asking.

but the girl was already backing away. already turning. already gone. just like that.

manon stood there for a long time after. cars passed, the light changed, people moved around her. the city didn’t pause. but she did. her chest felt hollow in a way that wasn’t unpleasant, just unfamiliar. like she’d missed something important.

she didn’t know who that girl was, but the skin on her shoulder was still buzzing where they touched. deep in her gut, something whispered to her.

you’ve met before.

somehow, she knew that wasn’t the last time she’d see her.

when manon stepped back into the apartment ten minutes later, the scent of leftover incense and vanilla candles wrapped around her like a hug that didn’t quite reach. megan was the first thing she saw, curled up on the couch with her legs tucked under her, fully absorbed in her nintendo switch. she didn’t even look up. not until sophia passed behind her and plucked the console clean from her hands.

“hey!” megan gasped, reaching for it, but stopped when sophia gave her a sharp look.

“you’ve been on this all damn day. come eat something before you fuse with the couch.”

megan blinked, then lit up like a light switch. “is it the thai place with the crab rangoon?” she was already halfway to the kitchen before anyone answered.

manon followed slowly, takeout bag rustling against her leg. she’d been starving when she left to pick it up, had practically been fantasizing about curry puffs and sticky rice all day since she finished moving furniture into her new room. but now, her appetite sat buried beneath the weight of a face she couldn’t shake. that stare. those eyes.

she dropped the bag on the counter and started unpacking containers, only half listening as megan pulled open drawers for chopsticks and plates.

“you okay?” sophia asked, not looking up as she peeled the lid off the tom yum soup. “you’re quiet. which is creepy.”

manon hesitated. then, after a moment, she sighed. “i ran into someone.”

sophia’s face morphed into something equal parts teasing and inquisitive. “do we mean ran into, or ran into?”

“shut up,” manon said, but her voice was distant, almost dazed. she leaned her hip against the counter. “no, i mean… literally. this girl just came out of nowhere. we bumped into each other, and i looked at her and…”

“and?” megan asked around a mouthful of noodles.

manon exhaled, rubbing her fingers along the edge of the countertop. “and i don’t know. it was weird. like… my whole body stopped. like i knew her. or maybe… used to know her?”

megan raised a brow, but sophia only rolled her eyes.

“great. you’ve been here a week and you’re already writing yourself into a romance novel” she said, grabbing a spring roll. “listen. you just moved. you’re tired. your brain is bored and lonely and doing that thing where it makes random people feel cosmic.”

“i’m not lonely,” manon said quickly.

sophia gave her a look. “you just left your whole life behind. you miss your favorite boba spot. it’s fine. just don’t start chasing strangers in the street.”

“i’m not gonna chase her,” manon muttered, tugging open a container of rice halfheartedly.

“good,” sophia said, dipping a spring roll in sauce. “focus on getting your bearings. we still haven’t shown you the lake. and the bookstore downtown. or that cursed karaoke bar megan keeps trying to get us kicked out of.”

“hey,” megan said, mouth full. “i stand by my avril lavigne medley.”

sophia ignored her. “new town, new start. the last thing you need is a mysterious stranger who makes your stomach do weird things.”

manon didn’t respond right away. her fingers drummed quietly against the countertop. she was trying to believe sophia. it would’ve been easier to just agree, to let the moment fade into one of those random, unexplainable blips you forget after a few days.

but the girl’s eyes were still there when she closed her own, and something in her gut whispered that forgetting wasn’t going to be an option. still, she nodded.

“yeah,” she said. “you’re right. it was nothing.”

she didn’t believe it for one second.

the next day, manon wandered through town with no real destination, letting the late morning sun soak into her skin and ease the tightness in her chest. the streets were still unfamiliar enough to feel like a story she hadn’t read yet, every corner turning into something new. sophia and megan had spent the morning walking her through the local spots and pointing out cafes with the kind of casual pride that only came from living somewhere long enough to love it. even so, they could tell she needed space, and she hadn’t argued when they gently peeled away after brunch. between their constant presence and the easy chatter of their friends—daniela, lara, and yoonchae— the thing manon needed most now was to decompress.

she still took her time, pausing now and then to glance through coffee shop windows or let the scent of warm bread drifting from nearby bakeries pull a faint smile to her lips. her steps were slow, unhurried, more about the wandering than the destination. when she turned the next corner, she found herself standing in front of a narrow storefront tucked between a flower shop overflowing with soft blooms and a stationery store lined with pastel journals in its window. the sign above the door read second story books, the words hand painted in faded cursive that looked like it had weathered more than one season. sophia had scribbled directions onto a torn sheet of notebook paper before brunch, a little map paired with a single warning written beneath it in blocky letters. don’t let the book clerk scare you too much. she’s always in a bad mood.

despite the warning, nothing could’ve prepared manon for the surprise waiting inside. the bell above the door chimed softly as she pushed in.

it smelled like old pages and lavender, the air heavy and still like the inside of a dream. narrow shelves wound through the space in lazy, looping rows, creating little pockets of quiet. sunlight filtered in through high windows, cutting gold lines across the hardwood floor.

and then there she was.

manon froze.

behind the counter, half-shadowed beneath a hanging fern, stood the girl from yesterday. the one who’d looked at her like she was a ghost. the one who had vanished without a word.

it was enough to make manon’s stomach swoop. her heart picked up, irrational and bright.

she grabbed a book off the closest table without looking at the title. anything. she didn’t care. she just needed a reason to speak.

the girl didn’t look up until manon was right in front of the counter.

“hey,” manon said, almost too soft. she cleared her throat and held out the book like a peace offering. “i, um, figured i’d stop by. didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

y/n’s hands stilled on the register. she looked up slowly, and for a moment, she didn’t say anything.

her blood turned to ice the moment manon stepped through the door. it was immediate, visceral, like the air itself had shifted around her. the bookstore, her sanctuary, the one place that had always felt untouched by the chaos of the world, now felt exposed. like someone had cracked it open and let something in that wasn’t meant to be there.

no. no, not again.

she could feel it in her chest, in her fingertips, that creeping sense of inevitability pressing against her like a warning. the weight of something old and painful, something she had buried and begged not to unearth again. this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. not here. not now. not in this life.

“you’re following me?” y/n asked flatly, her voice low and smooth.

manon blinked, caught off guard. “what? no, i just—i didn’t know you worked here. i came in for a book.”

“what book?”

manon glanced down. the cover was upside down. something about sea mythology. she tried not to laugh. “uh… i’ve always liked mermaids?”

y/n didn’t smile. her eyes, so striking yesterday, were unreadable now. cool and distant.

manon tried again. “i’m manon, by the way.”

y/n’s fingers tapped the edge of the counter once, then slid the book across the scanner. the beep sounded far too loud in the quiet.

“okay.”

manon hesitated. “you don’t want to tell me your name?”

“not particularly.” y/n bagged the book and handed it over without looking her in the eye. “it’s twelve seventy-six.”

manon dug out her card, suddenly cold despite the warmth in the room. she looked at y/n, really looked. she tried to find something in her expression that might explain the coldness, the distance. she came up empty.

“did i… do something wrong?” she asked, quieter now.

y/n didn’t flinch, didn’t blink, but her jaw tightened, her eyes fixed somewhere just past manon’s shoulder like looking directly at her might make something break loose. when she finally spoke, her voice was low and measured, almost gentle if not for the edge she forced into it.

“you should go,” she said. “whatever you’re looking for, it’s not here. i don’t have time to entertain strangers who think they belong in places they don’t.”

she didn’t mean it. not really. she just wanted to make her go away. to save herself from the inevitable pain of loss. because what’s there to lose, when you didn’t have it to begin with?

manon stared at her, the silence thick. her face twisted up in confusion. nonetheless, she shakes her head.

“right,” she said finally, voice clipped. “thanks for the book.”

she didn’t look back as she left, the door chime sounding harsher this time.

y/n stood still for a long while, the weight of the moment pressing on her ribs. her hands shook. she didn’t like hurting people—but she had to.

she couldn’t let her in.

not again.

the office was quiet again, that familiar kind of stillness taeyeon always kept like a blanket draped over every session. but today it settled over y/n like a weight instead of a comfort. the air felt too clean, too measured, and it only made the anger in her chest simmer hotter. not loud, not explosive, but persistent, like a slow burn that wouldn’t ease up. for as long as she could remember—since she was fourteen and her parents could no longer ignore the way she woke up gasping and sobbing into her pillow—she had been told that something was wrong with her. maybe not always in words, not in the one word that would ruin her completely, but in every glance, every hushed conversation, every carefully scripted therapy session where people tried to convince her she was just confused. they put her on medications, changed the doses, swapped one diagnosis for another as if her mind was a puzzle they could never quite solve. therapist after psychiatrist after specialist all trying to convince her that what she saw every night wasn’t real. that the girl in her dreams, the lives they lived, the endings that shattered her, were just symptoms of something broken. and now here she was, after all those years, sitting in this overly warm office with the sun pouring through the blinds like nothing had changed.

she was real.

she had walked into y/n’s world like the universe had run out of ways to keep them apart. and all y/n could think was how fucking cruel it was that no one had believed her. how all this time she had been drowning in something no one else could see, only to have it show up in the middle of a bookstore like it hadn’t ruined her already.

y/n sat in the same place she always did, one leg tucked under the other, shoulders curled slightly in like she’d been bracing for a storm that hadn’t passed yet. taeyeon was across from her, notebook open but untouched. her eyes, lined with quiet concern, never strayed.

“you saw her again,” taeyeon said, not asking. just… knowing.

y/n stared at the floor between them. “at the bookstore.”

“how did it feel?”

“like waking up and remembering she died,” she said softly. “again.”

taeyeon’s lips pressed into a thin line. “and what did you do?”

“i made her go away.”

taeyeon tilted her head. “did you want her to go away?”

y/n’s silence answered for her.

“have you been taking your medication?” taeyeon asked gently.

“yes.” a beat. “sometimes.”

taeyeon didn’t scold. she just nodded, thumb tapping lightly against the cover of her notebook. “you told me the dreams stopped being dreams a long time ago. that they feel like memories. full lives. love. loss. over and over. and now—”

“now she’s here,” y/n finished. “not in a dream. not in a memory. she’s here. in this city, walking into the places i go, smiling like i haven’t watched her die a hundred times.”

“and what makes you so certain she’s the same person?”

y/n laughed, but it cracked in the middle. “it’s in her eyes. i could barely breathe when she looked at me. like my body remembered before my mind could catch up.”

taeyeon leaned forward slightly. “let’s say you’re right. let’s say this is fate. a thread between lives, tangled and pulled tight. then maybe the question isn’t whether it was supposed to happen. maybe the question is—who are you to keep it from happening?”

“i’m someone who’s tired of losing her,” y/n said. “every time. every time i get her, the world takes her back. sometimes it’s war. sometimes it’s illness. sometimes it’s something as stupid as a car crash. and every time, i break. i don’t want to do it again.”

taeyeon nodded slowly, her expression unreadable but not unkind, like she was choosing each word with care. “i believe you,” she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. “i believe the grief is real. i believe the loss feels real too. and whether or not these dreams are memories or symbols or something in between, the pain they leave behind isn’t something we can ignore.”

y/n looked down at her hands, fingers loosely clasped in her lap. her throat felt tight, like the wrong word might split her open.

“but what you’re describing,” taeyeon continued, “it doesn’t sound like fear anymore. it sounds like a kind of punishment. you’re bracing for something you think you can’t change. and in doing that, you’re trying to protect yourself, maybe even her, from something that hasn’t happened yet.”

y/n didn’t answer, didn’t move. the silence stretched, but taeyeon didn’t fill it with pity or false comfort. instead, she leaned back slightly, letting her words settle.

“so let’s talk about free will,” she said. “maybe the endings in your dreams were never up to you. maybe they always happened no matter what. but how you meet them… that part is yours. you get to choose how you exist in this moment, in this life. do you want to keep running from something you haven’t fully understood? or are you willing to let yourself stay still long enough to figure out what this really is?”

y/n turned her face toward the tall window, watching a single leaf trace a slow arc down the glass before catching at the bottom. it stayed there, still and weightless, like it hadn’t made the long fall at all.

“what if the pain outweighs the good?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

taeyeon didn’t respond right away. when she finally spoke, it was quiet, like she was offering something fragile.

“what if it doesn’t?”

the question lingered in the air between them, thin and delicate like a thread stretched just short of breaking. after a long moment, taeyeon leaned forward, her tone still soft but edged with something firmer.

“this girl you met. whether she truly is the girl from your dreams or not, maybe it’s time to confront what her presence brings up in you. maybe it’s not about proving anything. maybe it’s about facing the fear that has kept you running in circles.”

y/n didn’t speak. she stared down at her hands where they sat curled in her lap, her nails pressing small crescents into her skin.

“the grief you feel is valid,” taeyeon said. “but so is the joy. so is whatever connection has followed you across years and versions of yourself. maybe it’s love. maybe it’s something quieter. maybe it’s just the feeling of being seen. but if all you do is brace for the ending, you’ll miss everything in between. the mornings you wake up and forget the fear for a moment. the small ways she makes you laugh when you least expect it. the sound of your name in her mouth when she says it like she already knows you and is just waiting for you to know her back.”

y/n’s throat tightened. she blinked hard against the sting rising behind her eyes and clenched her hands a little tighter, like that alone could keep her grounded.

“start small,” taeyeon said. “don’t fall. don’t run. don’t promise anything to the stars. just… say hello.”

it sounded impossibly simple.

and impossibly hard.

y/n hadn’t expected to see her again. after the way she had dismissed her, voice sharp and cold, words chosen with the precision of someone who had spent years learning how to keep others out, she had thought that would be the end of it. clean. final. she had intended it that way. it was safer to draw the line before anything familiar could bloom into something harder to let go of.

but two days later, just after noon, the bell above the door gave its soft chime, and when y/n looked up, manon was standing there again.

outside, rain was falling in that quiet, steady way that softened the edges of everything. her curls were damp at the ends, looser from the moisture, and her jacket clung slightly to her arms, darkened with water. she looked hesitant, but not unsure. in her arms was a paper bag, folded carefully with a receipt tucked under the twine, pressed close to her chest like she needed both hands to hold whatever it was.

y/n’s heart tightened in her chest, an involuntary pull she hated herself for.

she didn’t speak. her fingers stayed frozen above the keyboard as she watched manon approach the counter, slow but steady. without a word, manon set the book between them, her fingers brushing once against the wood before she let go.

“i think this belongs back here,” she said.

there was no smile, no attempt to smooth things over. only the return of something that hadn’t been opened. the book’s spine was still unbroken. untouched. it wasn’t just a return. it was a question. maybe even a challenge. and y/n wasn’t sure yet if she was ready to answer.

y/n’s fingers hovered hesitantly over the register just as she reached for the book, then she froze. despite the weight of her worries, the relentless nightmares, and every shadow of doubt whispering what could go wrong, her mind kept returning to taeyeon’s words, steady and calm. after a moment that stretched quietly between them, she finally lifted her gaze and met the girls’ eyes.

“hello,” y/n said softly.

the word was small. sincere. it tasted unfamiliar in her mouth. but she meant it. she didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or not that she took taeyeon’s advice so literally.

manon blinked like she hadn’t expected it. her expression cracked open, just slightly. not quite a smile, but something warmer. less guarded.

“hi,” she said. then, after a pause, “you remembered me.”

a silence passed, but it was lighter than before. manon’s hands stayed at her sides. she didn’t move to leave.

“can i ask your name now?” she tried again.

y/n hesitated. she thought of taeyeon. of choices. of pain. of joy. of letting herself be a little braver.

“y/n.”

manon said it back like she was trying it on her tongue for the first time. like she was memorizing it.

that was the beginning.

what followed after didn’t unravel in a neat, cinematic montage. but it came close. they started seeing each other in fragments. a shared coffee break on y/n’s lunch. manon dropping by just to “browse” but staying until close. conversations that began at the register and ended on the curb outside as the sky turned lavender.

they learned each other in quiet ways.

manon talked with her hands, her whole body involved when she was excited. she had a habit of singing along under her breath when music played over the bookstore speakers, sometimes even when she didn’t know the words.

y/n was quieter, but not closed. she listened with the kind of attention that made you feel like the only person in the room. she underlined books she read and sometimes shared passages out loud, voice barely above a whisper.

they traded stories. half-truths, memories, confessions. manon talked about her old apartment, her sister, the playlist she made for every mood. y/n talked about dreams, sometimes. the ones that lingered. the ones she couldn’t quite name yet. still, she never told manon about those ones. the ones that ended in death, in pain, and suffering.

there were days they walked the long way through town, hands brushing but never quite holding. they shared desserts at cafés, drank tea on manon’s balcony under cheap string lights, and sat side by side without needing to fill the quiet.

and somewhere in the middle of all of that, y/n felt something dangerous creeping in. something gentle. something like hope.

a year passed.

it started as nothing. a headache here. a little fatigue. manon brushed it off, the way anyone her age would. blamed it on late nights, caffeine, maybe stress. she was always in motion, always vibrating at a higher frequency than anyone else in the room. too many playlists to make, too many open tabs in her brain. so when the tiredness lingered, she didn’t say anything.

but y/n noticed.

she noticed when manon started showing up to the bookstore a little later each time. when she leaned heavier against the counter, smiled a little less brightly. when she stopped finishing her coffee, when she sat instead of danced.

the cough came next. dry, quiet at first. but persistent.

“allergies,” manon had said with a shrug, waving it off. “probably dust or whatever.”

y/n wanted to believe her. she tried. but the weight loss didn’t stop. manon’s skin dulled. her eyes dimmed. and there were days—quiet, terrifying days—when she seemed like she was just barely holding herself upright.

they weren’t dating. not exactly. not yet. but they shared pieces of each other now. manon lingered at the bookstore until close just to walk y/n to the bus. y/n had started bringing her herbal teas and cough drops, slipping them into her bag without comment. they exchanged playlists. secrets. names of books that made them cry.

so when y/n got a text saying can you come over? she didn’t ask why. she just went.

the apartment was dim. manon’s room smelled faintly of lavender and laundry detergent. she was sitting on the edge of her bed, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, phone face down beside her. she looked up when y/n entered, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

y/n sat beside her without touching her.

“what’s wrong?”

manon stared at the floor. swallowed.

“i went to get bloodwork done,” she said finally. “more tests. the clinic called today.”

y/n felt her stomach turn.

“they… it’s cancer.”

y/n didn’t move. couldn’t.

“lymphoma,” manon added, too calm. “they caught it early, they think. but it’s real. it’s happening.”

the air felt suddenly too thick to breathe.

“i don’t know how to do this,” manon said softly, voice cracking. “i just moved here. i was starting to feel like i was finding my footing. i met you. and now… now everything feels like it’s slipping.”

neither of them cried right away. it wasn’t that kind of moment. it was colder. quieter. like something ancient in the body remembering grief before it arrives.

and for y/n, it did arrive.

“say something.” manon practically begged, quiet.

it bloomed in her chest like a warning. not again, it screamed. her blood went cold. this was why she hadn’t wanted to open herself. why she’d kept people at arms’ length for so long. because something always came to take them.

“i need to go,” y/n said, and the words tasted like rust.

she stood too quickly. the chair scraped against the wood, sharp and sudden, and manon flinched like it had cut through her. y/n didn’t look back. couldn’t. her legs moved on instinct, carrying her out of manon’s room, past the soft light of the kitchen, past the coat rack with manon’s jacket still hanging from it. the apartment felt too full, too quiet, too warm for what had just been said.

behind her, manon didn’t follow.

the hallway outside was dim. some overhead light flickered, buzzing faintly like it was shorting out. y/n didn’t stop walking until she was out of the building. she didn’t stop even then. just kept moving, down cracked sidewalks and across wet intersections, her chest burning. she didn’t know where she was going, only that she couldn’t stay.

not there. not near her.

her hands were shaking. she shoved them in her coat pockets. her throat ached from trying not to scream.

why now?

why did the universe keep handing her beauty just to rip it away?

manon had smiled like sunlight. she had filled y/n’s once empty days with noise and color and chaos. and now—now that brightness had an expiration date.

no, y/n thought. no no no no.

but her feet kept walking.

when she got home, she didn’t turn the lights on. she sat on the edge of her bed in the dark, still wearing her coat, arms wrapped tight around herself. she didn’t cry. not yet. something in her had already started to shut down. like a door closing. a lock turning. like a heart bracing for the next goodbye. she wanted so badly to reach for her phone, to google all the symptoms, treatments, life expectancy, anything. yet, she didn’t.

no amount of statistics were stronger than the gut wrenching pull in her chest that told her what she already knew.

this was it.

the room was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the radiator kicking on. taeyeon didn’t speak right away. she’d grown used to the way y/n sat when she didn’t know how to begin. hands clenched together, gaze locked on some faraway point on the carpet, like if she focused hard enough, she could will herself invisible.

“i assume you’re not here just to sit in silence,” taeyeon said eventually.

y/n didn’t look up. “she’s dying,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

taeyeon’s tone didn’t shift. no shock, no gasp, just a steady presence. “you mean manon?”

a nod.

“when did you find out?”

“three nights ago.”

“and what did you do?”

y/n blinked. “i left. she told me and i didn’t say anything. i just walked out.”

taeyeon let the admission hang in the air, like a confession cracked wide open. “why?”

y/n’s throat felt tight. she hated this part. the dissection. the honesty. “i was afraid. it was happening again. i felt it in my chest like deja vu. like loss was already blooming there. like something ancient.”

“so you ran before it could happen.”

“yes.” her voice cracked. “and now it’s already happened.”

taeyeon wrote something down, briefly. “tell me what ‘it’ is.”

“the goodbye. even if she doesn’t die for months or years. i’ve already lost her.”

taeyeon leaned back in her chair. “you’ve spent so long fearing the endings, you’ve convinced yourself they’re inevitable. but that’s not fate. that’s avoidance.”

“what if the ending is inevitable?” y/n asked, desperate now. “what if she’s supposed to die, and i’m supposed to watch it happen again? what if this is just another life i have to lose her in?”

“then what?” taeyeon asked. “you let her die alone?”

y/n looked up, stung.

“you believe in past lives. in soulmates. in stories repeating themselves,” taeyeon continued, gently now. “so tell me—if you really believe this was written, then who are you to think you can stop it by not showing up?”

“because it hurts less if i’m not there.”

“does it?” taeyeon asked. “because from where i’m sitting, it doesn’t look like it hurts any less. it just hurts differently.”

y/n swallowed, hard. “i don’t know what to do.”

“you don’t need to do anything heroic,” taeyeon said. “you just need to show up. she’s still here. she’s still alive. she still needs someone who doesn’t disappear when things get hard.”

silence stretched again, but this time it didn’t feel empty.

“so go to her,” taeyeon said. “not because you can fix her. not because you can save her. but because she’s someone you love. and that matters. it always has.”

y/n nodded, eyes burning. this time, she didn’t argue.

one moment y/n was leaving taeyeon’s office, the next she was sitting behind the counter at the bookstore. she’d closed early. her afternoon was spent between books and various medical webpages. and then, she was leaving.

she had to make things right.

within ten minutes, y/n stood in the hallway outside manon’s apartment, heart pounding in a way that felt like it might tear her apart from the inside. the door cracked open a little, and sophia’s sharp eyes met hers immediately. no welcome in the gaze, just that familiar protective glare, the kind that said don’t mess this up or don’t come back at all. yet, without a word, sophia stepped aside and let y/n in.

the apartment smelled faintly of antiseptic and stale air, a quiet heaviness pressing down on everything. manon was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a threadbare blanket, her face pale but defiant. the kind of defiance that felt like it could crumble at any moment. her eyes, sharp and wet with hurt, locked onto y/n’s the second she stepped inside. there was so much pain in those eyes, the kind of pain y/n had never wanted to be the cause of again.

“you shouldn’t be here,” manon said, voice brittle but steady, like she was trying to protect herself before she even spoke.

y/n swallowed the lump in her throat, stepping closer, holding out a small box wrapped in soft paper. “i did research,” she said quietly, voice shaking just a little. “there are treatments, options i found. i know it’s not perfect. but i want to try. i want to be here for you.”

manon’s eyes flickered, a storm of emotions crashing behind them. anger, pain, desperation, and then something softer, almost like hope. it was fleeting, but it was there.

“you really think you can fix this?” manon whispered, but the edge had softened.

“maybe not fix,” y/n answered, kneeling down so she was at eye level. “but fight. with you. if you want.”

manon’s breath hitched, and then she nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly. the weight between them shifted just a bit.

the months that followed unfolded in waves. sharp, brutal, unrelenting. they began with cautious hope, with treatment plans mapped out across sterile tables and doctors who spoke in a language y/n had to learn one desperate phrase at a time. words like metastasis and prognosis became part of her daily vocabulary. she kept a notebook with scribbled margins and highlighted passages, trying to make sense of the labyrinth they’d been thrown into.

chemotherapy came first. the poison meant to heal. manon took it like a warrior, but even warriors break. she tried to joke at first, brushing off the nausea, the sudden exhaustion that followed each round like a shadow. but the hair came out in clumps by week three, and the day she sat in the bathroom with y/n, silently handing over the scissors, something in the air cracked.

they cried together. not loudly, not dramatically—just quietly, as y/n guided the clippers over her scalp, kissing her bare shoulder every time manon’s breath hitched.

radiation followed, and with it came a different kind of hollowing. manon grew smaller. not just physically, though the weight dropped quickly, but in presence. her fire dimmed, her voice thinner. there were days she didn’t speak at all, days when she lay curled on the couch, trembling from pain, eyes unfocused, distant. but y/n never left. not once. she was there to hold the bucket when manon vomited until there was nothing left to give, there to rub lotion into paper-thin skin, to whisper comfort into the silence.

she learned the landscape of manon’s pain. the patterns in her breathing, the quiet signals of a day turned worse. she memorized med schedules, drove her to every appointment, and sat through every long hour in waiting rooms that smelled like antiseptic and fear.

and somewhere along the way, she grew closer to sophia and megan. what started as an uneasy truce slowly deepened into something like kinship. they saw her there, always there, even when manon lashed out in frustration, even when she was too tired to speak. they saw y/n carry her through the darkest nights without complaint. sophia started leaving coffee out in the mornings when y/n stayed over. megan offered to pick up groceries when she noticed y/n hadn’t eaten properly in days.

they became a unit. scarred, sleep-deprived, fiercely protective of the girl they all loved.

and manon… manon began to soften again. even in the midst of the storm, even as her body grew weaker, there were moments of clarity, of fierce affection. her hand would find y/n’s in the quiet, her thumb brushing over her knuckles. she would press a kiss to y/n’s temple on the rare nights when she had enough strength to pull her close. she stopped asking why are you still here? and started whispering thank you instead.

everything changed. everything hurt. but y/n stayed. through the sickness, the fragility, the fear, the slow unraveling of the woman she had loved in every life before this one.

because this was the promise she had made.

and she would keep it.

on the eve of another surgery—the riskiest yet—manon asked for a moment alone with y/n. the hospital room was dim, painted in the soft gold light of early evening, machines humming low around them like a lullaby with no melody. y/n sat beside her, heart heavy, hands trembling. manon reached out, her fingers lacing through y/n’s like they belonged there.

her touch was weaker now, but her eyes burned with the same fire y/n had always known. fierce. raw. unrelenting even in the face of fear.

“there’s something i need to tell you,” manon said, voice barely above a whisper. “i had this dream. or maybe it wasn’t a dream—it felt too real. like memories layered over each other. a montage of us. every lifetime. every version of us. and every time, i lost you first.”

y/n’s breath stilled in her chest.

“but this time,” manon continued, her grip tightening, “this time it’s me. and even though that breaks my heart, i’m still glad. because we met again. and that has to mean something. that has to count for more than just another ending.”

her eyes glistened, her voice catching. “at least one of our meetings has to end happy. and if it’s not this one, then maybe the next. or the one after that.”

she paused. then, quieter, almost pleading, “promise me you’ll find me again. no matter how long it takes.”

y/n blinked, tears spilling freely now. she brought manon’s hand to her lips, pressed a kiss against her knuckles like a vow.

“i promise,” she whispered, voice cracking around the words. “always.”

the surgery came too soon, a cruel thief dressed in white scrubs and quiet reassurances. things unraveled fast. complications, fevers, numbers dropping on machines that had once felt hopeful. no miracle came. no sudden turn. just the slow, irreversible fading of someone who had fought too hard for too long.

manon slipped away quietly. not in violence or chaos, but like a candle guttering out at the end of its wick. soft. final.

at the wake, y/n sat between sophia and megan, their hands linked in silent grief. the room was thick with sorrow, the kind that settled into bones and stayed there. photographs surrounded them, snapshots of a life that had been hard-won, deeply lived. none of it felt like enough.

y/n felt hollow. like the best parts of her had been buried, too. and yet… something still burned inside her. not anger. not hope. something older. fiercer.

a promise.

no sickness, no death, no cruel twist of fate could sever what they were. what they had always been.

she would find manon again. in another time, another skin, another life. maybe it would take years. centuries. maybe it already had. but she would keep looking.

because this was just one version of their story.

and one day—whether next time or the one after that—they would get it right. they would find their forever.

and y/n would keep her promise.

and she did.

in the next life, perhaps the best one they got, y/n found her again.

there was no certainty, no divine answer to whether this life would be the last of them, the one that finally broke the loop or merely paused it. but maybe it didn’t matter anymore. maybe it was enough that they’d had this—this quiet, sun-drenched life carved out of stubborn hope and years that had taught them how to hold on.

they were older now. softer in the way people get when they’ve fought too long and finally let themselves rest. manon’s hair had gone silver at the temples. y/n still kissed the corners of her eyes every morning, where time had left its delicate marks.

outside, the countryside stretched in golden stillness, summer wind weaving through the tall grass. the old dog dozed nearby, belly rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm. the porch creaked beneath y/n’s weight as she sat beside manon, her arm tucked gently around her wife’s frail shoulders. their children were inside, making tea, trying not to cry too loud.

manon’s breathing was thin now. shallow, labored. she’d chosen this. chosen to leave the hospital behind, chosen to be surrounded by the life they’d built together. the one they’d clawed out of fate’s grip with both hands.

y/n held her hand, memorizing the shape of it all over again. she didn’t need to speak. manon’s eyes met hers, and in them, there was peace. not because death didn’t hurt. not because it didn’t still feel unfair. but because they had found each other. again.

and this time, they’d been allowed to stay.

manon’s last breath slipped out like a sigh, the softest goodbye. the breeze carried it, warm and gentle.

y/n didn’t cry right away. she just leaned her head against manon’s and whispered something only the wind would hear.

because she knew.

in any timeline, in any world, in every version of forever— she would find her.

always.

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ikeukiss · 7 months ago

Text

BEAM ME UP | 최수빈

⟢ PAIRING: choi soobin x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 3.5K ⟢ GENRE: lots of fluff, smidges of comedy, smut ⟢ TAGS: parents!au, married!au, established relationship!au, body (mostly chest) worship, pet names (love, bunny, baby, etc), oral (f receiving), fingering, breeding kink, lactation kink, unprotected sex, down bad soobin essentially ⟢ SYNOPSIS: Going out after having a baby should be a breeze. So what if you don't feel incredibly confident? So what if you both act like awkward teenagers on your first date? It's you and Soobin, and that's all that matters. ➸ bless my pals @lovetaroandtaemin, @xomakara, and @heesuncore for reading this behemoth ilysm

Why am I so nervous? You think to yourself as you swipe the mauve shade in your hand across your bottom lip. Its light pigment prevents staining, yet provides noticeable definition, just enough to stand out. Your hair is in a low bun, two stray bangs falling over your cheeks. With your makeup and floral midi dress, you feel confident enough to step out and leave the house without becoming riddled with anxious thoughts.

The demands of motherhood have been hefty, but you clean up well. And despite all the dirty diapers and staying awake pumping, you’re ready to spend one night simply as Soobin’s wife. Perhaps a night out in town with your husband is exactly what you both need after three months of being parents.

It’s been picture perfect, without question. Minyoung has her father‘s pout when she sleeps, your long eyelashes, and the softness of a human being well beyond her years. But, you can’t deny that you miss the days where it was just you and Soobin in your own bubble.

Perhaps tonight, you can discover a balance where your old and new life blend harmoniously.

You step out into the living room to see Soobin with his mother, your daughter asleep in her grandmother’s arms. Soobin holds a laundry list of instructions in one hand and her car-seat in the other, waving his hands in frantic motions. “She usually naps like this for about two hours, but if she sleeps more, that’s even better. And then—“

Soobin stops short and looks back at you when he senses your presence. Your in-law and husband stare at you in disbelief. The frayed edges of your appearance from a few hours ago are nowhere to be seen.

Soobin looks at you like you hang the moon. His smile is small in the presence of his mother, him trying to maintain some semblance of modesty, but it’s ‌electric. “You look beautiful.” He sets the car-seat down on the floor to free his hand, reaching it out for you to take.

You do it gladly, smiling from ear to ear. Soobin also cleans up well, his button up tucked in his cargo pants. He’s always dressed a bit like a dad in training, and now he fits the bill‌. “You don’t look too bad yourself, Binnie.”

His face turns a shade of pink at the nickname, unable to hide your effect on him. He turns back to his mother and refers to the paper in his hand. “If you need something that isn’t in her diaper bag, please‌—“

“Soobin, I can handle it. Just spend the night with your lovely wife.” His mother winks at you and takes the car seat from him. “I promise to bring her back in the morning in one piece.”

You and Soobin kiss the top of Minyoung’s soft head and say your goodbyes, both of your hearts clenching. It’s the first time you’ve been apart from her for more than an hour or two, so the prospect is daunting, at the very least. “Be good for grandma, lil’ bun,” Soobin whispers to her sleeping figure.

When your mother-in-law leaves, Soobin looks back at you with a mixture of excitement, anxiety, and desire. “Ready to go?”

You nod, sharing the same concoction of emotions. Most importantly, though, you’re relieved to finally have some alone time together. Wherever the night takes you is anyone’s guess. “Definitely.”

You both sit at the table in the restaurant like it’s your first date. Uncertain about what to expect once the meal ends, full of nerves and anticipation.

Soobin finds it hard to make eye contact with you, his eyes moving across the entire room. He can’t help it when you look so beautiful. You always do, but tonight is different. He’s been so stuck in the haze of being a new dad, it’s like he’s seeing you clearly again. Now, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

You’ve been married for half a decade, ‌yet every time he sees you, he falls deeper. It’s the first time for him every second he gets to touch you, kiss you, tell you how much you matter to him.

With a child, his feelings have only amplified. He looks at Minyoung some mornings and sees all the features he loves about you and vice versa in one human, his pride as great as his love.

But, instead of revealing he’s in the throes of intense admiration for you in the small Italian restaurant, he turns his focus back to the menu in his hands and looks over the wine list.

The appetizer you shared a few minutes ago has made him thirsty for some alcohol, it seems. “I know you have water, but do you want some Pinot, too? Oh! They have Moscato! I know that’s your favorite.”

It’s the way his eyes light up and his mouth curves into that signature O that makes you giggle‌, unable to contain it.

“What’s so funny?” Soobin looks up from his menu with mirth.

“Nothing at all, Binnie. I’m just happy.”

Your chest pinches at his soft reaction to your words, him looking over his menu at you with bright eyes.

Soobin has always been a goofball, intentionally or not, but it’s what makes him the best partner, among his many qualities. He knows when to be serious, taking the reins when necessary, but he’s well-versed in lightening the mood when you need it.

It’s surreal sometimes thinking about how you lucked out.

Suddenly, your thoughts cease thanks to the rising discomfort from your breasts. It started as an unnoticeable pinch when you gave your drink and light food order, but now it’s full-on pain erupting in your chest.

Why is it so uncomfortable?

You feel the droplets of milk settling into the fabric of your dress, your question answered in a flash.

The impending concern rises on Soobin’s face when he notices your scrunched-up brows and mouth. Then, he sees the two small wet patches forming on your chest. Immediately, he shucks off his jean jacket to give you. “Here baby, take this.”

A deep blush forms on your cheeks when you cover up with his garment. You’re unsure how to broach the subject or the rest of dinner in this state, immediately self-conscious. “I’m sorry. This is so embarrassing, I—”

“Baby, no. Don’t be sorry, it’s normal.” Soobin says the words with so much empathy, you could cry from that alone. You excuse yourself to use the bathroom and clean yourself up, not listening to the words that leave his lips in rapid succession. You’re a mom. It happens to every mom at some point! I love you!

Soobin feels useless, knowing no words he says will assuage your shame. He decides now is as good of a time as any to check up on Minyoung. It’s been almost three hours since he’s talked to his mother.

When the line rings, Soobin doesn’t let it bother him. Minyoung probably needed a burping or night-time bath. No big deal.

By the second unsuccessful attempt at contact, his heart drops into his stomach. What if something’s wrong? As he tries to call for the third and fourth time, his thoughts spiral further.

What if his mother rushed out with Minyoung and she forgot to bring her cell because it was so serious? He knows babies usually are out of the woods for colic by the third or fourth month, but anything’s possible, right?

Parental anxiety is one thing, a feeling Soobin knows well by now, but his instincts are usually spot-on. And something has to be going on if his mother isn’t getting back to him.

You trot over to the table, tucking Soobin’s jacket tighter around your chest so it doesn’t flap open. The event may have been embarrassing at the moment, but you’re ready to get the night back on track and focus on your husband.

You smile eagerly, not noticing the way Soobin’s face has gone stark white. “I think I got most of it, but—“

“We have to go. Something’s wrong.”

You don’t think twice, practically stealing Soobin’s keys from his pocket when he stands up. The two of you race out of the restaurant and to your little girl, your thoughts newly scrambled in the worst ways.

Soobin tries to knock on his parents’ door without slamming his fist against the wood, but he can’t help it. So many scenarios have built up in his head since his intuition kicked in. He could barely say one word on the drive to his mother’s. The silence was palpable in the air, both of your bodies filled to the brim with fear and regret for leaving her for one second.

Soobin’s mother answers the door with a shocked expression. “Honey, what are you two—“

Soobin barrels past her and into the house. You follow hot on his heels. His pace is quick, his voice loud as he calls out Minyoung’s name like she’s able to answer him back.

Then, you find Minyoung perfectly content. Soobin’s dad has her in his arms at the dinner table, feeding her a bottle of milk. “Hey, kids. Why are you here?”

Soobin stutters when he responds. “M-Mom wasn’t answering and we—“

“Oh, lord.” You hear her deep groan pervade the small kitchen. “You left the restaurant for that?”

“What were we supposed to think?” Your words are full of defense, lighthearted now that you’re not in panic mode. Were your worst thoughts so unexpected? You felt bad enough leaving your daughter alone with people you trusted just for a night of solitude. If something worse had happened, the guilt would’ve been too much to bear.

Soobin rushes over to Minyoung and takes her from his father’s arms. Droplets of milk spill from her lips, but she doesn’t care. She reaches up to touch Soobin, her little nails gliding across his face. “Daddy’s here, Minnie.” He presses his forehead to hers, smiling proudly. “I’m right here.”

You tear up at the image in front of you, relieved to see your baby girl out of harm’s way. Even if the harm was entirely imaginary, you’re calmer nonetheless.

Soobin walks towards you and kisses the crown of your head. “Sorry I pulled a false alarm, baby.”

Although you’ll never tell him, you don’t mind that he did so. He’s an incredible husband and father, always on alert for the two of you and putting his needs to the wayside. You have to remind him every day to also think of himself, and he appreciates you looking out for him in the same fashion.

You shake your head and move Minyoung from Soobin’s arms to yours. You kiss her chubby cheeks and she coos at the attention, the spitting image of her father. “Daddy is gonna be the death of me, isn’t he, baby girl?”

Soobin chuckles into your hair and holds onto one of Minyoung’s fists with his palm. “Not if I can help it.”

“Now that you both have made sure she’s okay, go back to your date night!” Your mother-in-law strides into the dining room to pluck Minyoung from your grip. Minyoung is more than comfortable with it, smiling widely into her grandmother’s neck. “It’s rude enough that you both interrupted your dinner time and ours.” She turns to speak directly to Minyoung. “Right, sweetie? How dare they!”

“It’s officially off, I promise.” Soobin puts his phone in the glove-box once he parks the car in the downtown parking garage, determined to make the rest of the date night go off without a hitch.

You laugh and take his hand in yours, interlacing your fingers. “So much for low-key and relaxing, right?”

“Hey!” He points at you with his other hand. “It’s only 8 PM. The night’s still young.”

“Well, we’re not gonna be able to go back to the restaurant now. Not after I practically gave out my milk for free.” You cover your face with the palm not wrapped in your husband’s, but he takes that one too.

“Stop it,” he chides with a stern pout. “Even if you leaked through your shirt every time we went out, you’d still be more beautiful than every other person on the planet.”

You tease, "You're just saying that."

“I mean it! Do you see how gorgeous and incredible Minyoung is? That’s half your handiwork.”

You roll your eyes, but your body lights from within at his words. “She’s half yours too. You probably didn’t notice, but every waitress was checking you out.”

Soobin blushes hard, suddenly shy. “They were not.”

“Yes, they were. I can’t blame them, though. Parenthood has made you ten times sexier.”

Soobin quirks an eyebrow, the undercurrent of passion in your words unmistakable. He gets closer to you until your faces are barely an inch apart. His lips ghost over yours. “I could say the same about you. I’ve only had eyes for you, but even more so now that you’ve had my baby.”

You gulp, noticing how hard your thighs are clenching in your seat. Soobin notices too, holding one of your knees in his hand with a smirk. “Binnie, I’m not hungry for food anymore.”

He presses his lips to yours slowly. You moan into his mouth from such exquisite pleasure that’s been long overdue. He glides his tongue in between your lips as he palms one of your breasts over his jacket. When he takes his mouth from yours, he’s breathing heavily. “I was gonna say the same thing.”

It’s a clash of teeth and tongue when you make it inside the house. Hands run over curves and skin to take off the restricting clothing, appearances be damned.

You discard Soobin’s button-up somewhere in the hallway as he pulls your hair loose from your bun, clutching the strands at your nape to expose more of your neck. He riddles your skin with love bites before you even make it to the bedroom, but you both love it. How feral and frantic you are for one another, no children or external restrictions holding you back.

By the time your body hits the king-sized bed, all that’s left on you, garments-wise, is your thin bralette and mismatched underwear. Soobin looks over your body with a hunger that’s unshakeable. The poor man’s probably salivating at the mouth by now, just like you.

Ever since the doctor’s six-week ban on any physically strenuous activity, he couldn’t imagine dry-humping without fear of hurting you. That timeline came and went in a flash, but with the fatigue of daily life, it seemed impossible to find time to be intimate.

Until now, that is.

“How did I get so lucky? You’re angelic.” Soobin spreads his palms out over your chest. His long fingers squeeze your breasts over the confines of your lingerie, making you moan. “I have to take this off, bunny. I need to see you.”

You feel heat pooling at your center from his gaze, his words, his touches on your skin. You unclasp the clips holding your bra together and flick it away, not breaking eye contact the entire time.

He used to be so shy during sex, and now he wastes no time unzipping his pants to touch himself. “Fucking perfect,” he grunts, staring at the pebbling of your nipples and the volume of your tits from lactation. He spreads the pooling pre-cum in his hand to rub his cock earnestly.

You whimper and clench around nothing, the center of your underwear incredibly damp. Why did he get to have all the fun and leave you frustrated? “Binnie, please touch me.”

“Gladly.” He uses the hand not holding his dick to yank your underwear off and throw them in a corner of your room. Once the fabric is gone, he dives in between your legs. His licks start small, kitten-like in their touch, but soon he grows hungrier, more dominant. Eating you out has always been one of his favorite things during sex, like it's the only thing he needs to do to sustain himself.

“You taste amazing. You always do.” He stops jerking himself off to press two fingers inside of you without warning, mixing his essence with yours on his way to your warm and wet walls. His lips and tongue remain attached to your clit as he prods you soft and slow.

“God, it feels so good.” You raise your hips to match the rhythm of his hand inside of you. Despite being eager to keep his mouth between your legs, you reach down for him, wanting to feel his lips on yours again. “I want you up here with me.”

Soobin smiles gently before crawling up the expanse of your body. He looks down at you, unable to hide how strong his desire runs in his veins. But instead of his declarations of love that he’s said a million times before, he greets you with a deep kiss to your lips and pushes his fingers back into your cunt.

You moan into his mouth. “Jesus fuck, babe.” You whimper as he leans his head down to latch his mouth to one of your nipples, still ramming his hand deeper into you. Some milk sinks onto his tongue and dribbles past his chin, but he doesn’t care. If anything, it turns him on more. His cock produces more pre-cum and spreads onto your bedsheets.

“I want you inside of me, Soobin.” You spread your legs wider for him to settle into, and he does.

He rubs the head of his cock across your slit before nestling inside fully, his mouth opening in a large gasp as he fills you. “It always feels like the first time, bunny. Always so tight for me, fuck.”

His pace is reverent, driven by his lust, his love for you, and his desire to make this experience as incredible as it already is for him. He rubs your clit between his fingers, and your face contorts into absolute pleasure after a few minutes like that, privy to every feeling. When you fall apart, your body clenching around him in ecstasy, the moment is too beautiful for Soobin to handle. It’s a picture he wants to tattoo on his heart forever.

You could have done anything in this life, and by his luck and the universe’s grace, you were led straight to him and have given him some of the greatest gifts he could ever ask for. Your love, your hand in marriage, your children.

He would follow you anywhere without question. And he may not always believe it, but he also holds all the same powers over you. Without him, the world would be a lot duller, no color to define the edges and details of the life that you’ve built together. He makes it all worth it.

So when his next words leave his mouth, you can’t help but agree with them, the thought too beautiful in the throes of your desire to say no to. “I want to fill you up, bunny. Have another baby with you, as many as you want. So beautiful like this, but you’re even more beautiful heavy and pregnant, shit,” he moans, eyes screwed shut as he chases his own orgasm.

“Yes, Binnie, fill me up. Come inside of me, give me another. Pretty please?”

Those two words are his undoing, the blade that severs the cord that’s been slowly tightening in his stomach since he saw you in your dress five hours ago. He spills inside of you, your insides hot with his release. He doesn’t let any part of it go to waste, fucking it into you until his hips can’t go for much longer.

He lies beside you, both of your chests heaving. And while the moment was an amalgamation of intense passion, you both look at each other and laugh like teenagers. It takes you back to that first night, the first “I love you,” all the first you’ve shared and the ones that are yet to come.

“You’re my best friend, you know that, right?” He rubs your bare arm as he stares deeply into your eyes, more in love than he was a second ago. “I could not have found anyone better to be my wife and my children’s mother than you.” He kisses you on the forehead, his lips featherlight. “I love you.”

You may be incredibly hormonal, any words that make your heart seize up more than likely to cause a well of tears in your eyes. But these don’t. They make your heart lighter, shoot all your fears down, and quell any insecurities that have sprung to the surface since the two of you have become parents.

“I love you, Binnie. In this lifetime and all the other ones,” you respond. You snuggle into his chest, feeling the tempo of his heartbeat against your ear.

Everyone told you both how hard having kids would be. You know you’re not in the home stretch, not in the slightest, but with Soobin, no mountain you’ll come across is insurmountable.

All because he’s yours and you’re his.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy @hursheys

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