#they would see eye to eye on different things i feel and just for an added bonus they can kiss abt it

[jinhyun]

—in your hands.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: fluff, best friend’s little brother au, friends to lovers

word count: 7.2k

summary: after a love confession and a few kisses took place the night before, it was finally time for you and Hyunjin to calmly talk things out and figure out where you were currently standing.

author’s note: here she is!! there is a lotttttt of talking and dialogue in this part, i feel like i should apologise lol. but anyway, the lovebirds needed to talk and, oh boy, talk they did. as always i hope you guys enjoy! if you do, please let me know by leaving an ask or a comment<3

You’d woken up next to Hyunjin once before in your life; a little over a month before, when the two of you passed out on your couch on New Year’s and ended up cuddling through the night somehow.

You remembered opening your eyes and panicking when you realised your face was resting on his chest and his arms were loosely wrapped around you.

You didn’t want to move away and wake him up back then, but, at the same time, you didn’t want him to potentially feel uncomfortable if he woke up and found out the current position you were in. So, in the end, after some careful consideration, you did what seemed like the right thing to do: pull away from him and sit up on the couch, which inevitably resulted in him waking up as well and understanding what was going on right away.

This time, it was different.

Yes, you were once again met by his chest as soon as you opened your eyes, and his arms were one more time around you — although tightly this time, keeping you from pulling away from him through the night. However, this time you didn’t panic, but smiled instead.

Managing to pull away from him just enough to be on his eye level, you stared at his relaxed, beautiful features. From his thick eyebrows and closed eyelids, to his round nose, to those plump lips of his you’d got to kiss the night before.

You felt your cheeks burn at the still fresh memory. Although flustered by it, you couldn’t help but reminisce how good his mouth felt on yours, how hard your heart was pounding against your chest, and how you wished he’d kissed you for a little longer.

Freeing one of your arms from his hold, you reached your hand up to tenderly remove a strand of hair that was covering his eyes and tickling the bridge of his nose — then just leaving your hand there for a little longer, as your fingertips faintly traced his skin while you quietly admired him.

A part of you couldn’t believe he had been there for you all this time and you were only now noticing him. He was without a doubt the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on, but you didn’t feel any sort of attraction to him up until this year. And now that you did, now that you got to feel his lips on yours and see a side of him you never thought you would, you wondered how come it took you this long to see him in a different light.

Pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead —and smiling to yourself when you watched the corners of his mouth curve up at the lingering contact—, you somehow went out of your way to remove his arms from your figure without waking him up.

You weren’t expecting him to come over last night, and you most definitely weren’t expecting him to spend the night; therefore, you had not restocked your groceries and were left with nothing to offer him for breakfast.

You made sure he was truly not waking up any time soon before you got off the bed and chose a rather cozy outfit for the day, so you could go to the bathroom and get ready to go to the grocery store around the corner while he got some more sleep.

You should’ve known better than to actually believe he would get another hour or two of sleep after you left his side, because not even two minutes into the store, your phone was buzzing in your pocket and his contact was showing up on the screen.

“Hey, you’re up” you greeted sweetly after taking the call.

“I didn’t take you for the kiss and dip type” he hoarsely called you out, regardless of the smile you could hear curving up his lips.

“No hello?” You joked. “How are you?”

“You’re the one who abandoned me, you don’t get to call me out”.

You chuckled at his over dramatic ways. “You’re literally at my place, it doesn’t work like that”.

“Well, you’re not in bed with me, so…”

“I thought of staying in bed for a while, but then I realised I was out of food” you explained. “I came to the grocery store around the corner, won’t take long”.

He whined. “We could’ve gone together later”.

“You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you up” you pouted. “Besides, I didn’t think you’d wake up before I came back. I’ll be there in ten, okay?”

“Okay…” he mumbled, and you heard him shift in your bed. “Or better yet, make it five”.

“I’m still missing half of the things I need to get” you amusedly informed him, going over to check a pack of eggs. “Is there anything you’d like for breakfast?”

“You”.

You stopped in your tracks the moment that simple yet bold answer abandoned his lips, being too stunned to come up with a witty answer like you usually would.

You were still getting used to his newfound boldness, but you would lie to yourself if you said you didn’t enjoy the butterflies flying around your stomach whenever he said something like that.

A breathy laugh of his was heard on the other side of the line the next second, when you remained silent and it hit him just how flustered he’d make you.

“Are you still drunk?” You were unable to hide both your amusement and disbelief.

“No,” he chuckled. “I didn’t mean it like that”.

He did.

“You didn’t now?” You cocked an eyebrow.

“Can you come back already?” He changed the topic, earning a light laugh from you. “I just wanna be with you, I’m not even hungry”.

“You still need to eat something, though” you argued. “Like I said, I’ll be there in ten”.

“Too long” he let out a heavy sigh.

“You can go back to sleep in the meantime” you suggested. “Or make yourself some coffee, you know where everything is”.

“Yeah, that sounds good” he hummed. “I'll freshen up a bit first”.

“There are towels on the upper shelf of my closet, in case you’d like to take a shower” you let him know. “There should also be a spare toothbrush you can use in the second drawer of my bathroom”.

He laughed lightly, rather dreamily, but ultimately said nothing.

“What…”

“Nothing, you’re cute” he said softly. “Come back here already”.

“I would go back faster if we stopped talking, honestly” you chuckled. “You’re kinda keeping me distracted right now”.

“Okay, I’m hanging up then. Don’t take too long”.

Looking at your screen when you heard him hang up on you, you rolled your eyes in amusement, laughing to yourself over how silly he was before you shoved your phone into your pocket and focused back on the eggs you’d been previously checking out.

The faster you got everything on your list, the faster you’d be back at yours with Hyunjin.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

Being driven by seeing him again, you were entering your place again not even ten minutes later, carrying the groceries you had rushed to get.

You didn’t even have to announce that you were back, for Hyunjin came out of your bedroom right as you began to change into your slippers by the door.

You were greatly surprised by the sight of him in sweatpants and a black tank top that let you appreciate his toned arms, unlike the matching sweatshirt he’d worn last night. You guessed the tank top had been underneath it all along, and you were only now lucky enough to see it thanks to the hot shower he must’ve taken not long ago, since he was drying his hair with one of your towels right then.

“Hey…” you greeted him, feeling your cheeks burn when his eyes locked with yours; as you were once again invaded with memories of his pretty lips on yours the night before.

“Hey,” he smiled sweetly, visibly lighting up at the sight of you.

Without another word, he hung the towel on the back of your couch and went up to you, so he could pull you to his chest and feel you close like he had been craving since the moment he woke up and realised you weren’t next to him.

A loving sigh abandoned your lips when you felt his arms securely wrap around you, being hit with the realisation that you had also missed him those few minutes you’d been away from him.

Carefully dropping the bags you were holding on the floor, you wrapped your arms around him as well, feeling him relax under your touch and then lower his head so he could nuzzle the crook of your neck.

You jumped at the contact of his wet hair against your skin, earning light laughs from both of you.

“How’d you sleep?” You asked him softly.

Although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the way he smiled against you. “Better than ever”.

You chuckled, pulling him away by his shoulders and taking a careful look at him before you tenderly ran a hand through his damp locks. “No hangover?”

“Nope,” he shook his head. “Just thirsty”.

His remark got a laugh from you. “I figured you would be, so I brought you some isotonic water… as well as some medicine, just in case”.

He smiled brightly, not even needing to say ‘thank you’ for you to get the memo. Although he did say it anyway, in the softest of tones, that only you got to hear coming from him.

He swore to God he felt like marrying you right then and there every single time you looked after him like that.

“Are you hungry?” You interrupted his sudden fantasy, but still all he could focus on was the way your hand travelled down from his hair to his nape. “I’ll go make us some breakfast now”.

“I’ll help you” he offered, leaning down to pick up the bags you had left on the floor a minute ago.

“It’s okay, you can go rest a bit more” you followed him into your kitchen.

“No, I want to be with you” he said truthfully, placing the bags on the counter.

You let out an over dramatic sigh as you went to the cabinet to grab a pan, in order to get started with breakfast. “I made sure to be extra quiet this morning so you’d sleep until breakfast was ready…”

He chuckled, going over to you and hugging you from behind. “If you wanted me to get some more sleep, then you shouldn’t have left me all alone to freeze in your ice cold bed”.

“My bed is not cold at all, you drama queen” you called him out.

“Okay, maybe I overdid it a little,” he admitted, resting his chin on your shoulder and looking up at you. “Next time just stay in bed with me, hm? I’ll take you out for breakfast after cuddling for a little longer”.

“Next time?” You cocked an eyebrow, looking down at him like you weren’t just melting at his way with words.

“Well, I already have my own toothbrush in your bathroom, so…”

“Oh, yeah, that certainly grants you free will to stay over whenever you want” you amusedly rolled your eyes.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind holding you all night long again”.

You bit your lip, feeling your heart squeeze in your chest and silently looking down for a moment before you turned around, having his hands go right back to your waist as your eyes locked with his.

Since he’d brought the previous night up, it felt like the opening you needed to talk about the things that were left unsaid.

“What happened last night…” you fidgeted with the paws of your sweater, catching his attention while you looked for the right words and earned enough courage to look up at him. “You meant it?”

“I meant everything I said, Y/N” he answered in a heartbeat. “I meant kissing you as well, I thought I made it very clear?”

“No, yeah, you did” you agreed, nervously looking down once again. “It’s just that you had been drinking and you did say once that you tend to get quite touchy when you’re like that, so… I guess I just wanted to hear it again now that you’re sober”.

“Well, I’m telling you again now, Y/N,” he gently tilted your head up, making you look at him again. “I love you”.

Just like the night before, your heart skipped a beat.

“I know you might not want to hear that right now, but I do. And, like I told you, kissing you meant the world to me. The alcohol only helped me to finally let out what I’d been bottling up for ages, so… I really did mean everything last night”.

You believed him when he said it the first time last night, but hearing him say that now, staring into your eyes when you knew he was in all his senses, could only make your heart hurt in the best of ways.

“Did you mean what happened last night?” It was his turn to ask.

He sounded almost scared of your possible answer, but you nodded the next second, and he felt like he could breathe again.

“I like you, Hyunjin. As in, I do feel something for you” you confessed, unaware of what your words had just done to his heart. “But, like I said, I’m not ready—I just… I only very recently realised it, so I’m still trying to figure out the extent of my feelings for you. Honestly, had it not been for Chan, I probably still wouldn’t have realised any of it until your confession”.

“Chan?” He asked.

“Mhm…” you nodded. “He kinda opened my eyes after your parents invited us for lunch the other week, I was convinced you were only being friendly until then”.

“So I really owe him a big one, huh?” He laughed under his breath, stealing a small laugh from you as well. “I was flirting so hard with you, Y/N, I still don’t get how you didn’t notice”.

“I don’t know, I just… I wasn’t looking for romance anywhere; and you have always been so lovely with me, only that now you were getting bolder, but… other than that there wasn’t much difference, I thought you were being friendly”.

“There’s a reason why I’ve always been so lovely to you, though” he pointed out. “You’re the only one I treat like that, it was never me just being friendly…”

“What do you mean?” You frowned.

“You know what I mean” he smiled timidly.

You remained silent for a moment, staring at him in an attempt to confirm what you were thinking. “How long have you…”

“Over six years now?” He tilted his head, understanding what you meant even when you didn’t finish your sentence. “Going on seven”.

“Hyunie, that’s…”

“Insane?” He completed for you with a nervous chuckle. “Yeah…”

You shook your head no, having trouble taking this new bit of information in. “I was in a relationship for four of those years…”

“I know,” he nodded. “Hurt like hell”.

You fell silent, taking in this new piece of information and being hit with all the times Mingyu complained about Hyunjin and how clearly in love he was with you.

You always brushed it off and told him to open his eyes, for Hyunjin was only Yeji’s little brother and, therefore, he saw you as a sister figure as well. You were now discovering that the one who needed to open her eyes were you.

You never suspected a thing. When you recently met, you thought he was shy around everyone. Then when you were comfortable enough around each other, you thought he was that kind to everyone. You thought he cared about everyone, he wanted to help everyone, he was friendly to everyone.

Turned out neither did he treat everyone like that, nor was he being friendly with you all along. It just came off like that to you, because you never expected him to have feelings for you.

However, looking back to all those times now, you were still unable to see the signs. You were unable to pinpoint when it all had started, as the only change in his behavior —and in your relationship as a whole— you perceived had been this year. He had always acted the same around you ever since you met, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you had at some point done something for him to get the wrong idea and change the way he saw you.

“Hyunie, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know” you apologised. “When did you even—Did I mislead you at some point?”

“You didn’t. It was all on me, trust me” he smiled bittersweetly.

“Honestly?” You pushed it.

“Mhm… honestly” he reassured you, holding your hands in his and rubbing his thumbs on the back of them, as if wanting to comfort you over what he was about to say. “Remember when you stayed with us that weekend when something went down at your dorm?”

“The time we met?” You asked.

He nodded. “That’s when I fell for you. I just saw you enter the room and that was it for me”.

There it was, the reason why you never felt a switch in the way he acted around you; why you couldn’t tell the difference between his kindness and his romantic interest towards you.

He had fallen for you the first time he saw you, and you had gotten that version of him since the beginning — when he was too young for you to look at him with other eyes, and even for you to ever suspect he felt anything other than simple platonic affection for you.

You hurt for him. He had loved you all these years and you had not once given the way he treated you a second thought until last month. How could you have been so blind?

“You’re serious?” You murmured.

“I’m always serious when it comes to you” he gently caressed your chin.

“I’m so sorry, Hyunie. I had no idea, I feel awful…”

“Don’t,” he stopped you. “It’s not your fault, Y/N. All you did was show up and I took it from there”.

“Still, if only I had known…”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything. I was a minor back then; and when I wasn’t anymore, although we did grow closer for a while there, you fell in love with Mingyu”.

You felt like crying. You knew what it was for the person you loved to fall for someone else, and you couldn’t believe you were the one to make him experience that sort of heartbreak.

“I’m so sorry…” you apologised one more time.

No matter how many times you said it, it didn’t feel like enough.

“Baby, it wasn’t your fault” he reassured you once more — the pet name he’d called you last night slipping through his tongue yet again, and somehow managing to put your heart at ease whilst simultaneously making it go wild.

“When we got close back in your first year of uni, like you just mentioned… you were…” your sentence was left unfinished, but he nodded, understanding what you were trying to ask. You closed your eyes to compose yourself at his silent confirmation. “And then I started dating Mingyu and distanced myself from you…”

“What else were you supposed to do?” He tried to comfort you, and you couldn’t help but internally laugh at the irony of it. He was trying to comfort you over breaking his heart back then. You could truly cry right then. “You didn’t see me like that and fell for him, it wasn’t something you could control”.

“I would’ve been more lowkey about my relationship with him, though…” you mumbled. “Wouldn’t have mentioned him in your presence. Definitely wouldn’t have brought him along the times I knew you’d be there”.

“Now that would’ve brought you so much trouble with him…” he smiled softly. “He wasn’t precisely my biggest fan, was he?”

“Yeah… you’re right” you mumbled. It wouldn’t have been an easy situation to handle. “Still, I would’ve been more mindful about it”.

“You’re so cute” he appreciated the sentiment. “You wouldn’t have been able to keep it going on forever, though. I mean, it’s been over six years and I was nowhere near getting over you when you guys broke up”.

“You had two girlfriends, though…”

“And there’s a reason it didn’t work out with any of them” he shamefully pointed out.

“I don’t know what to say…” you shook your head. “I don’t wanna hurt you anymore, Hyunjin”.

“Why would you hurt me now?”

“My feelings for you are so recent, I don’t want us to… rush into something while I haven’t figured out the extent to them. Then there’s also the whole thing with Mingyu, because although I like to believe I’ve moved on, it did still sting when I saw him kiss Hayun only a couple of weeks ago… and I told you so” you suddenly felt guilty; had you known he had feelings for you back then, you would never have bothered him with your ‘ex boyfriend drama’. “I don’t know if it stung because of him or because the situation is just shitty, so I don’t know if I’m fully over him yet, and when you and I are together I want to be one hundred percent devoted to you”.

Hyunjin smiled.

‘When you and I are together’.

‘Devoted to you’.

That sentence alone was enough for him not to dwell on your residual feelings for your ex.

Even if it was unconsciously, the way you had phrased it let him know you wanted to be with him at some point.

He couldn’t wait for that day to come, when you were as devoted to him as he was to you.

“And now there’s the situation with Dahye as well…”

“I thought we cleared that up last night?” He questioningly tilted his head.

“We did, but that’s not the point…”

“What’s the point then?”

“I was left with a lot of trust issues to deal with…” you explained. “I know you’re not like him, but I can’t help but be paranoid when it comes to other girls or to you simply getting tired of me at some point”.

“Y/N, I would never do any of those things” he reassured you. “I would never do anything to hurt you”.

You smiled weakly. You believed him, you really did; but that was what he said now given what he felt for you in the present. Nothing could assure you that he would always love you, and so you would have to just take the risk and leave your heart in his hands if you wanted to be with him. That was what terrified you.

“I want to be with you, Hyunie, but I’m just too scared of love and romance right now…” you timidly admitted. “And when Dahye told me all those lies, although it did sound very off to me, a part of me couldn’t help but be scared that maybe she wasn’t lying”.

“So a part of you believed her…”

“I’m sorry…” you apologised. “The way she described you didn’t sound like you, not the way I see you, at least. And it didn’t match what you told me about your relationship with her, but I thought… we weren’t together, so you didn’t really have to tell me the truth, or even the whole story… you were free t—you are free to be with whoever you want and don’t owe me any explanations, so…”

“I only want to be with you, though” he cupped your face, telling you exactly what you needed so badly to hear. “And I guess you could say I don’t owe you explanations, but I want to give them to you. I like to believe we’d both explain something that’s bothering the other”.

You weakly nodded. “I’d like to believe that, too”.

Hyunjin smiled, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before his hands were firmly placed on your waist and he lifted you up with ease.

“Okay now,” he sat you down on the kitchen counter, pulling you closer to the edge of it and resting his hands on your waist. “What exactly did she tell you?”

“It didn’t make much sense,” you fidgeted with the necklace falling over his chest. “But it was pretty much that I should stay away from you because you guys had this ‘fuck buddies’ relationship going on for years now, and that even if you got in a relationship with someone else, you’d go back to her every time”.

Hyunjin sighed, growing visibly angry at both Dahye and the situation itself.

He told her not to mess with you, and she did exactly that. Still, he didn’t believe she would go as far as to come up with a whole fantasy of them being sexually —and emotionally?— involved in order to keep you away from him.

He didn’t know what else she was capable of after this, and he most certainly didn’t want to find out, nor did he want to even give her the chance to mess around with your relationship one more time.

“What are you doing?” You asked when he dug his hand in his pocket and took out his phone.

“Blocking her” he simply replied as he unlocked it.

“Hyunjin, you don’t have to—”

“I told her I would block her if she messed with you,” he let you know, locking his determined eyes with yours. “And that’s what she did, so…”

Eyes going back down to his mobile, he went to their Twitter chat and then pressed on her profile — blocking her right before your eyes without even giving it a second thought.

Maybe he should’ve given her a piece of his mind before cutting her off, and a part of him really wanted to tell her a thing or two, but at this point he just couldn’t give a fuck.

He was tired.

He could’ve lost you because of her, and he was never forgiving her for it.

If hanging out with his friends became awkward after this or he straight up had to turn them down not to run into her, then so be it. They were his friends, not hers; and God knows he was tired of having to deal with her whenever he wanted to spend some time with them.

“I already told you last night, but she lied. She made it all up” he repeated what he’d already let you know. “There isn’t much more to the story than what I’ve told you. We kissed at a party like two years ago, I was drunk, didn’t remember, told her it meant nothing, and she hasn’t left me alone since. That’s literally all there is to it” his genuine words were enough to put both your heart and mind at ease. “We were never even friends, the only reason I put up with her for so long was not to make it awkward for my friends. We were never fuck buddies either; I’ve never had that kind of dynamic with anyone, actually. And me going back to her is ridiculous, the only person I’d keep going back to over and over is you, which is kinda what happened both times I tried to move on with someone else, as shitty of me as it was”.

With that said, he handed you his phone.

Looking down at it, you realised he had opened back his chat with Dahye, which was now showing a message at the bottom that let you know her contact had successfully been blocked.

“What is it?” You asked regardless, hesitant to take a look and let alone to hold his phone in your hands.

“Our chat. She doesn’t even have my phone number, Y/N. That’s how close we are” his sarcasm managed to get a smile out of you. “You can read our texts if you want. The last conversation is the most important one, but you can go through all of them if you want”.

Taking one look at his phone in his hand, you refused his offer. “It’s okay, Hyunie. I trust you”.

And for you to say that when you had just let him know how hard it was for you to put your trust in someone else again a minute ago, meant the world to him.

“This isn’t a matter of whether you trust me or not, though. If it helps your mind feel more at peace then I have no problem showing it to you”.

“Your chats are private, I shouldn’t—”

“There’s nothing private between me and Dahye” he clarified in a heartbeat, speaking clear enough to make sure his words got through your head. “The last time we talked she found out I was in love with you and threatened me with telling you. That’s why I misunderstood everything last night”.

“That’s why you thought I was turning you down?” Your heart hurt for him once more, as it seemed to be usual for you to unintentionally break his heart.

He nodded, leaving his phone next to you on the counter. “I thought she told you about my feelings for you, and that you were distancing yourself from me because you didn’t feel the same and were thinking of the right way to let me down easily. And then when you said you wouldn’t be able to let yourself fall for me if what she said was true, I just…”

He shrugged, looking elsewhere as he remembered how unbearable the pain in his heart had been last night.

Catching on his hurt, you pulled him to your chest, feeling him relax inside your arms before he tightly wrapped his own around you as well.

“I took some distance because I didn’t want to jump into conclusions and needed some time to think…” you clarified.

“I know that now, baby” he hummed.

You smiled softly, holding him tighter and planting a small kiss on the crown of his head.

“I’m sorry I put you through so much”.

“It’s okay” he kissed your shoulder, going back to your eye level. “Anyway, if you change your mind later on, my password is my birthday as well”.

“Oh, so you’re just as basic as me” you smiled widely, allowing a small giggle to escape your mouth when he rolled his eyes at you.

“I don’t have it as the passcode to my place though, now that’s just unsafe as hell” he taunted you, pulling you closer to him and nuzzling your neck. “Although I might change it to yesterday’s date now”.

“The day you got drunk and disrupted my very peaceful sleep?” You teased him.

“Oh, absolutely” he played along, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Which also happened to be the night we first kissed, so…”

He could feel your cheek burn against his hand, and how your eyes had naturally fixed on his mouth at the sound of that, just like his eyes had been going back to your lips throughout your entire conversation.

He was dying to kiss you again, and he could only curse the promise he made last night not to kiss you again starting this morning. At least not until you decided you were ready to kiss him without feeling like you were leading him on.

“You’re making it really hard for me not to fall for you…” you whispered against his lips, only then having him snap out of it and realise how close he had unconsciously leaned in.

Fuck, you were making it so hard for him not to kiss you.

“That’s good, because I want to make you fall for me” he smiled, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, in a poor attempt to put some distance in between your mouths. “Will you let me?”

“Let you what?”

“Make you fall for me?” He asked, locking eyes with you. “I know you need to figure things out, and I’m giving you all the time you need, but in the meantime can I just try and make you fall for me?”

You hesitated. “I don’t want to lead you on, Hyunie…”

“I wouldn’t mind it, though…”

“Hyun…” you sighed.

“We kissed last night, Y/N, and now you’re telling me you do feel something for me. How would that be considered leading me on when there is an actual chance of you falling in love with me, too?”

“I thought your feelings for me were kinda recent too, and that we were both figuring it out, but now that I know you’re in love with me it feels cruel to keep flirting with you and treating you the way I did…” you went back to fidgeting with his necklace. “We’re not on the same level yet. I’m still scared to love someone again and to be in a relationship… there’s still a mess in my head and dragging you with me while I try to figure it out is just…”

“My heart is already in your hands, Y/N. It’s up to you what you choose to do with it and I’ll respect your final decision regardless of what it is” he promised. “Whether we’re together or not, I already got dragged into this. All I’m asking for is a chance. Just one chance to show you that you can trust me and that love doesn’t always have to end in heartbreak” the softness of his voice could make you cave in right then and there. “I can love you right, Y/N. You won’t owe me anything and will have all the time you want to figure your feelings out, but please, just don’t let us lose how far we’ve come. I can’t pretend nothing happened between us and stay away from you while you figure your heart out”.

“Hyunie…”

“Please?” He whispered, resting his forehead on yours and tenderly rubbing his thumbs on your sides. “Was today supposed to be some kind of farewell to the way we’ve been acting so far then?”

You pouted, realising then how selfish you were being by acting so lovey dovey with him when you were claiming not to want to lead him on.

Truth was, you were finding it hard to control yourself around him anymore. You wanted to take it slow and make things right with him — you owed him that much. But then again, and most importantly, you wanted to be with him. Even though your feelings were recent, they were taking over your entire being faster than you’d expected.

You wanted to be with him. Whether you were a couple or not, whether you were on the same level when it came to your feelings or not, you wanted to show him how much he meant to you and you wanted to feel how much you meant to him; and it was getting harder and harder for you to hold back when you were together.

Your heart and your mind were at conflict, for the first was telling you to risk it all while the latter warned you to be careful and not to rush into anything.

And in the end, although you wished it wasn’t like that and you knew it was selfish of you, you were already in too deep to take a step back from him while you figured everything out.

When you wouldn’t reply, being too immersed in your internal conflict, Hyunjin faintly brushed his nose with yours, unable to keep his eyes from going down to your mouth before they travelled back to your eyes. “Are we really supposed not to be like this anymore?”

“Now how can’t I give in when you look at me like that and say all those things?” You spoke quietly, sounding almost ashamed you’d given in that easily — and, to some extent, you were.

His lips parted into a beaming smile that turned his eyes into crescent moons. “Is that a yes then?”

“Yes,” you smiled as well, faintly tilting your head to lovingly bump his nose with yours. “We can take it slow, maybe? If you’re up for it…”

“We can take it however you want,” he was quick to reply, earning a light laugh from you. “Although I would appreciate a definition of ‘taking it slow’, so I know what I can and can’t do…”

“I don’t know, I feel like we could keep being the way we were before this whole misunderstanding? You know, test the waters… see what works the best for us and take it from there?”

“Sounds good enough for me” he agreed with a smile. “Can I keep shamelessly flirting with you then?”

You chuckled. “Yes”.

“Can I come over whenever I feel like seeing you?”

“You did that before as well, so yes”.

“Hold your hand? Send you your coffee order and pick you up from work? Cuddle you?” He asked all in a row, and this time you threw your head back as you laughed loudly at his silly antics.

“Yes, Hyunjin. Those were all things you used to do before as well”.

“So what I’m hearing is the only things I can’t do from now on are kissing you and getting too handsy”.

“Yah, Hwang Hyunjin…” you called him out with burning cheeks.

“What?” He chuckled.

“Where did the ‘getting too handsy’ part even come from?”

“Well, I probably would’ve at some point last night if you didn’t stop me…”

Too stunned to speak as you felt some kind of electricity run through your body, you fixed your eyes on the door to your right, avoiding his amused eyes while you miserably tried your best to hold back the smile that was already curving up the corners of your mouth.

With a small chuckle, he cupped your cheek and forced you to look at him. “Have I told you before that you’re adorable?”

“Shut up” you playfully pushed his hand away.

Hyunjin laughed loudly, going right back to hold your face, only now with both hands. “So those are the conditions then?”

“I think?”

“Can I take you out on dates?” He asked one last time.

Now, that was kind of a grey zone, for it depended on whether you considered your previous outings and hangouts as dates, so the new ones he was proposing wouldn’t go against the boundaries you had just set when it came to taking it slow.

Nevertheless, even if it meant breaking your own rules, you couldn’t deny that you would die to go on a proper date with him.

“We’ll see” you smiled sweetly, making him smile as well while he tenderly caressed your cheeks. “Since we won’t be taking any distance, though, and we already had a misunderstanding that left us both hurting because of someone else, maybe we could…”

“Not go out with anyone else?” He quietly finished your sentence, when you struggled to come up with the right words.

“Is that too selfish of me to ask?” You asked with a tilt of your head. “I know I’m the one asking for time here, but…”

“No, no. I was going to ask for the same if you didn’t mention it, I’m glad you brought it up” a shy chuckle escaped his lips. “I’m probably the selfish one here because I wasn’t going to anyone else anyway, but I really needed to know you wouldn’t either”.

“You’re quite literally the only guy I’ve looked at with other eyes since I went back to being single, Hyunjin” you confessed, oblivious to how bad his heartbeat was racing because of you. “You really made me go against my wishes to stay away from romance for a good while; I wasn’t going to anyone else anyway either”.

“You mean that?” He mumbled, eyes sparkling as he looked for any sort of amusement in yours.

“Of course I mean it,” you cupped his face with one of your hands, tenderly running your thumb up and down his cheek.

He let out a heavy sigh, letting his face fall to your shoulder. “God, I would’ve died if you fell for someone else”.

“I won’t, Hyunie” you reassured him, running your fingertips up and down his back. “So there’s nothing for you to worry about”.

Choosing to say nothing, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you so close to him you could feel the way his body was faintly trembling.

“You’re shaking…” you whispered in concern, tightening your arms around him and resting your chin on his shoulder.

“I can’t believ—I was so scared you’d push me away for good” his voice was muffled against your skin.

“You’re really underestimating how fast you’ve made your way up in my heart” you said softly, making him go back to your eye level and look at you. “I’ll do my best to work on myself so I can give you the love you deserve, hm?”

Hearing you say those words to him so genuinely, left him speechless.

Hearing it coming from your very lips that you wanted to love him right, he could only feel on Cloud Nine, as he was now the closest he’d ever been to being with you the way he had always dreamed of.

All he could do right then was to press a loving kiss to your forehead and then pull you to his chest, securely wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your head as he whispered how much he loved you.

He knew you weren’t able to say it back just yet, at least not the way he meant it, but he didn’t mind saying it out loud for you to know. He didn’t mind loving you for longer, and he definitely didn’t mind loving you more. You wanted to get there at some point, and as long as you loved him back in the end, he could take being the one who loved harder in your relationship.

After all, he had left his heart in your hands and had you welcomed it, with the promise to do your best to return the same kind of love he felt for you once you were able to overcome your current fears.

Even if it meant he would have to wait a little longer, the way you smiled against his chest right then, along with the way you held him closer to you as well and ran your fingers up and down his back in the loveliest of ways, were enough to make his heart feel at ease, as he could tell right then that you would be gentle with it and wouldn’t let it break again now that you knew how much love it held for you.

tag list: @jehhskz @iknowyouknowminho @doohnut @saintcosette @lailac13 @kayleefriedchicken @rikibun @yongbokkiesworld @seungzsmin @beautifulcolorgarden @hyunetopia @velvetmoonlght @automaticpersonabatpaper @httpdwaekki @brinnalaine @wondering-out-loud @feelikecinderella @nujeskz @amarecerasus @liknws @nhyunn @midsoulz @tirena1 @tinyelfperson @thatonexcgirl @iovecb97 @hynier @phenomenalgirl9 @your-favorite-pirate @jin-from-the-block @yearofthetiger25 @quokkacidal @stayconnecteed @kwanisms @yoonguurt @143hyunes @iiriam @cookielixie @hyunlvrs @allyrarara @machaandlofi @mehli-00 @justiceforvillains @minhosprettywife @whats-my-question @armystay89 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hyeon-yi @skzstannie @onlyhyunjin

[crookedteethed]

ᡣ𐭩 Positive • ° 　 .　 *　: r. cameron

synopsis -- There are three things you know for certain right now:

You're pregnant.

The father currently has his hands all over some blonde at The Wreck.

According to Topper, you're Rafe Cameron's favorite topic during locker room talk.

warnings -- 18+-mdni, unplanned pregnancy, cursing, angst no happy ending, readers a pouge, fuckboy!rafe (?) toppers a dickhead frl, mention of abortions (once)

main masterlist(s) | taglist | wc: 2.2k

"Fuck." You stare at the positive pregnancy test between your trembling fingers.

"Fuck," you curse again, realizing you're alone in your apartment with this life-changing news.

Of course this would happen.

After months of sneaking around, of heated encounters and promises to keep things casual, one reckless night was all it took. One moment where passion overrode common sense, where neither of you cared about consequences.

A hushed "I want to feel you, all of you," slipped from Rafe's lips as he paused, the condom still on, but his desire for you raw, uninhibited, consuming him. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours, silently asking if you trusted him enough to let go..

How naive you'd been, thinking you could trust Rafe Cameron with something so intimate. The golden boy of the OBX, known for his volatile temper and reckless abandon. The type of man who treats both relationships and speed limits as mere suggestions.

And you'd fallen for those dark cerulean eyes and heated whispers like every other girl before you. Only difference was, you were now staring at the consequences of that trust, watching it turn into two pink lines that would complicate everything.

Your secret hookup.

The trust fund bad boy of the OBX. The same Rafe Cameron who's probably at some country club event right now, charming his way through a crowd of socialites, completely unaware that he's about to become a father.

You can already hear the whispers at the yacht club – the Camerons' golden boy and his latest pouge conquest.

As if sleeping with Rafe Cameron wasn't scandalous enough, now you're carrying the next heir to his family's empire.

"Have you seen Rafe?" you shout at Topper over the pulsing bass of The Wreck's speakers. Your hand instinctively rests on your still-flat stomach – a new nervous habit you've developed since seeing those two pink lines.

Topper takes a swig of his whiskey, looking entirely too amused--and drunk, "Lost track of your boyfriend already?"

"He's not my—"

"Yeah, yeah." He smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Just his favorite little Pogue to fuck behind closed doors, right? You know, he tells us everything in the locker room." He leaned closer, whiskey breath hot against your ear. "About how eager you are, how you beg for it. Though I gotta say, for someone from the cut, you've got quite the reputation among the trust fund crowd now."

Your cheeks burned with humiliation and anger. Of course Rafe would brag about all the girls he's had to his Kook friends. Of course you were just another story for their country club gossip.

"Go fuck yourself, Topper. Where's Rafe?"

"Aw, don't be like that, sweetheart. We all know you've got a thing for rich boys. Though usually we don't keep Pogues around this long – Rafe must really like something about you." His eyes raked over you suggestively. "Or some things."

The way he says it makes your skin crawl – it's pure Rafe Cameron coming out of Topper's mouth. That same calculated charm, that practiced way of making someone feel simultaneously special and worthless.

You wonder how many hours he spent watching Rafe work his magic at bars, memorizing the exact tone needed to make "sweetheart" sound like an insult. Rich boys and their fucked-up everything.

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. "Hey, I'm just messing with you. No need to get your discount panties in a twist." He gestures toward the bar with his glass.

"Last I saw him, he was chatting up some blonde by the bar." Topper continued, "Though, something tells me you've got more on your mind than just another quick fuck in the coat closet."

"You're a real piece of shit, you know that?" you snap at him, hands clenching into fists.

Your head whips around, scanning the crowded bar area, but there's no sign of Rafe's familiar frame among the sea of drunk socialites.

"He's not there," you mutter, frustration building in your chest.

"What's wrong? Don't have your Kook King on a leash?" Topper calls after you as you push past him toward the exit. "Better hurry – you know how fast Rafe moves on to the next thing!"

You storm out of The Wreck, the humid night air doing nothing to cool your rising anger.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

Here you are, pregnant with his kid, and Rafe Cameron can't even stay in one place long enough to hear the news.

Slumping into your car, you grab your phone, fingers trembling as you pull up his contact. Three rings, voicemail. Again. Four rings, voicemail. Your frustration builds with each failed attempt.

hey, we need to talk

rafe, answer your fucking phone

where are you?

this is important

You watch the messages turn from "delivered" to "read" with no response. Of course he's seeing them. He's probably looking at his phone right now, some blonde draped over his shoulder, both of them laughing at your desperate attempts to reach him.

seriously rafe, this isn't about us. something happened

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. You could just text it. Three simple words: I'm pregnant, asshole. But somehow, dropping that bomb over text feels wrong, even for whatever this is between you.

After the tenth unanswered call, you throw your phone onto the passenger seat, fighting back angry tears.

You should have known better than to expect anything different from Rafe Cameron, who treats Pogues like they're as disposable as his designer clothes.

To him, girls from the Cut are just temporary entertainment – something to play with until a more suitable option from his tax bracket comes along.

Your phone buzzes. For a moment, your heart leaps – but it's just another notification that he's read your messages.

"Fuck you, Rafe," you mutter, starting your car with more force than necessary. The engine roars to life, matching your mood.

You consider driving to his place – you know he'll end up there eventually, probably with tonight's blonde in tow. But the thought of waiting outside his house like some desperate ex makes bile rise in your throat.

Your phone buzzes again. This time it's a text:

busy rn. talk tomorrow?

A laugh escapes you, bitter and hollow. Busy. Of course he's busy. He's always busy when it doesn't involve getting into your pants. Your fingers fly across the keyboard before you can stop yourself:

hope she's worth it. btw, might want to start setting aside some trust fund money for child support

You hit send before you can think better of it, immediately regretting it. Your phone explodes with incoming calls – now he wants to talk. But you're already pulling out of the parking lot, vision blurry with unshed tears.

Let him panic for a while. Let him feel a fraction of the anxiety that's been eating at you since you saw those two pink lines.

Besides, if he can't be bothered to give you five minutes when you need him, he can wait until tomorrow to hear how he managed to knock up his favorite Pogue.

You wake up to the sound of coffee brewing – which is impossible because you live alone and definitely didn't set the timer last night. Stumbling out of your bedroom, you freeze in the doorway.

There's Rafe Cameron, looking unfairly good for someone who should be hungover, sitting on your beaten-up futon. His expensive clothes are a stark contrast to your shabby apartment furniture, but somehow he looks like he belongs there.

Between his fingers, he's holding the pregnancy test you'd forgotten to hide in your emotional spiral last night.

"Breaking and entering now?" Your voice comes out shakier than you'd like. "That's low, even for you."

He doesn't look up from the test, but you catch the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "It's not breaking in when I have a key." He finally meets your eyes, holding up the small silver key you'd given him three months ago after that night he'd brought you soup when you were sick. "You know, the one you said was 'just for emergencies'?"

The unspoken truth hangs heavy between you. This thing between you had stopped being just hookups somewhere between the late-night conversations and the drawer of his clothes in your dresser. Between him knowing how you take your coffee and you knowing which side of the bed he prefers.

"That's not—" you start, but he cuts you off.

"Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to text it and disappear like you did last night?"

"Oh, like how you disappeared with that blonde? Or should we talk about how you disappear every time after you're done with me, just to go brag to Topper about your latest fuck?"

His face darkens. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, Rafe. Your locker room talk is apparently quite entertaining. 'Eager.' 'Begging for it.' Ring any bells?" You wrap your arms around yourself, hating how your voice shakes. "Tell me, do all your Kook friends know how I sound in bed, or is that a special story just for Topper?"

"That's not—"

"Not what? Not what you meant? Not what happened? Because Topper seemed pretty clear about exactly what kind of reputation I have among your trust fund crowd now."

"You really think that's what this is?" He gestures between you. "That I could think of you as just another hookup?"

"Isn't it? I mean, god forbid the Kook King actually care about the Pogue he's fucking—"

"Jesus Christ," he runs his hands through his buzzed hair in frustration. "If this was just about sex, would I have a key? Would I know your coffee order or—"

"You can't use that as some kind of proof you care! Having a key doesn't mean shit when you're out there treating me like your dirty little secret!"

The silence that follows is heavy, charged with months of unspoken hurt. When Rafe finally speaks, his voice is low, controlled: "Is it mine?"

The question hits you like a slap. "Are you seriously—"

"Just answer the question." His eyes are intense, searching yours. "Is it mine?"

The unspoken truth hangs heavy between you. He already knows the answer – can read it in the way you can't quite meet his eyes, in how your hand unconsciously drifts to your stomach.

That night without protection wasn't your first together, but it was the first time he'd looked at you like you were something more than just a good time.

Like maybe you could be everything. Now that look is back, mixed with something like fear as the reality of what you're not saying sinks in.

"Those tests—" he starts pacing, running his hands through his hair. "They're not always accurate, you know? Maybe you should take another one. Or three. Fuck, how do you even know for sure?" His voice takes on a desperate edge. "There are… options. I know a clinic in Chapel Hill. Discrete. I could make some calls—"

"You know what?" Your voice comes out quiet, defeated. "Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe this is exactly what I need to finally stop pretending this—" you gesture between you, "—could ever be anything real."

"I'm just saying we need to think about this logically—"

"No," you snap, your voice rising until it bounces off the walls of your tiny apartment. "You're trying to make this disappear, just like everything else that threatens your perfect Figure Eight lifestyle!"

You watch something crack in his expression, that carefully maintained Kook King facade finally showing a glimpse of real emotion. His hand reaches for you, then drops. "Don't—"

"I think you should go." You turn away, unable to look at him anymore. "Use that key one last time to lock up behind you."

You don't need to see his face to know he's struggling with what to say. The perfect Rafe Cameron, for once at a loss for words. It would be funny if it wasn't breaking your heart.

You don't turn around to watch him leave, but you hear the way he hesitates at the door. The silence stretches, filled with all the words neither of you are brave enough to say. Finally, the door clicks shut, and you're alone again.

Your hand drifts to your stomach, and you let out a bitter laugh. You can do this alone.

You'll move out of the OBX, maybe up to Wilmington where no one knows your name or that you're carrying a Cameron heir. You'll work extra shifts at the restaurant, save every penny.

Your kid won't need trust fund money or a father who treats relationships like they're disposable. Your child won't grow up feeling like some dirty secret.

Somewhere across town, Topper's probably already hearing about how the Pogue girl tried to trap Rafe Cameron with a baby. You can almost hear the yacht club whispers starting. But let them talk – you've survived worse than country club gossip.

(What no one would ever know: how your hands shook as you slid his key under his door later that night, or how he sat in his car outside your apartment for hours, staring at a small velvet box he'd been carrying in his pocket since before you ever said the word "pregnant."

Some love stories aren't meant to have happy endings, and some babies are meant to have just one parent who actually wants them.)

a/n -- thanks for reading, as always all likes comments, and reblogs keeps me motivated! 💕🫶🏾

taglist --

@rafestoothbrush @alexxavicry @trapistani @Hejsj @neslayuh @hotvampdragon @alyisdead @jelybely @elmolovesw33d @littlelamy @futuremrscameron @percysley @rrafeswhore @madzig @thatdesigirl17 @drewstarkeysrightarm @seqhyvnz @romantasyreader2024 @luizaelias @rafe-cameronswife @emmavzlsblog @aileenunfiltered @swe3theart-succubus @511rkive @morrrrphin @xcinnamonmalfoyx @obxrafeandjj @rafegf-real @theeternaloptimistt

[ttjisung]

BABY l. jeno

camboy!lee jeno x fem!reader

in which jeno finds it easier to destress himself on stream, that is until you catch him

cw: MDNI! smut, unprotected sex, cumming inside, fingering, squirting, another haechan feature cause i want him lowkey, generally inappropriate things lol idk how else to describe it! this wasn't proof read so beware of spelling mistakes (wc: 3k)

If you were to be asked, you’d confidently describe your relationship with Lee Jeno as trustworthy – loyal, even. Yet the truth was that Jeno had a secret he had been keeping for years now, one so outlandish it sounds straight out of a girl’s wet dream. It wasn’t that he thought you’d judge him, he just worried you’d ask him the origins of his secret, and he’d have to explain that it became his channel to take out some stress because of you.

Jeno’s secret was simple and straightforward – for the past year or two, he’d hide out at his apartment every weekend alone, turning on his web-camera and becoming a new identity. He hated calling himself a camboy, seeing it as an impeachment on his own self. Camboy felt too official, he was just a horny young adult looking for a way to let it out. That being said, what complicated the situation was that you were the cause of his need to do so. All of the times you’d compliment him after he’d send a workout selfie, so oblivious to the gym roleplay he’d act out later on, wishing his hand was you in tight shorts and a sports bra. Even something so innocent as saying his hair was cute had him thrusting into his palm and pulling on his own hair in the late hours, acting like it was you in front of him, instead of the hundreds of nameless accounts that would flood his chat. 

Jeno swore he’d get away with his little double-life, knowing you’d be caught in a grave before HotLonelyStuds. That’s why his own world came crashing down on himself during a hangout, when Lee Haechan approached him privately, an evil grin on his obnoxious face. “I have a confession.” The way he stated it seemed genuine, yet the way his eyes glinted towards the older male let him know his intentions were anything but. 

“Go ahead.” “Head? I’m sure that’s what you want, Dr. Lee.” Jeno’s heart dropped at the implication behind the sentence, way too specific to pass as a normal sexual innuendo. It was only when Haechan opened his phone up to his Twitter likes, already flooded with several homemade pornos, pointing out the most recent. Jeno wasn’t even aware that people were reuploading his clips – he swore it was a privacy breach, not allowed on the website he used. He recognized the specific stream, a night where he felt particularly needy. You had told him about a physical you received at your latest doctors’ appointment, and his fantasies ran wild. Admittedly, it wasn’t normal to feel so horny because of something so simple, yet as soon as he imagined himself on top of you, stripping you slowly on a patient’s bed, there was no going back. Albeit weird, he swore there was nothing special about the clip until Haechan clicked on it, of course he did. 

“Fuck… Need you so bad, baby. Let Dr. Lee take care of you.” Jeno’s voice was hoarse, ringing from above as his camera panned down to his cock that was already out of his white dress pants and leaking in his hand. He flicked his wrist gently, agonizingly slow, taking his time and imagining it was your small, delicate hand instead. In his daze, his thumb unconsciously ran over his tip, forcing a gasp out of his throat, alongside an uncontrolled small whisper of your name. The whisper was so light, it could easily be played off as an incoherent moan to anyone else, yet Haechan (who swore up and down that Jeno was in love with you) begged to differ.

“Why did you even watch all of it to find that out, perv.” Jeno’s first response was defense, trying to play it off and even pass the shame onto Haechan. What he should’ve taken into account was that if there was one word to describe the male, it’d be shameless. “Eh, ‘was bored. What matters here is you, Dr. Lee, and your infatuation with a little someone-” 

“Who?” You spoke up behind the two, frowning at the way Haechan jumped up and immediately turned his phone off. “Hey, I wanna see.” You whined, saddened at the fact that you were out of the loop. “It was porn.” Haechan was quick to yell out, patting Jeno on the back and rushing back into the living room. 

“Were you actually watching that stuff, Jen? I don’t care but like… You told me you don’t.” The disdain in your voice assured Jeno about one thing – you could never know the truth. Not only would it freak you out, he felt as though you’d be offended that he’s been lying to you about how truly sexual he is. Being the only two of your friend group that didn’t continuously sleep around, you felt even more connected with him when he’d back you up, telling you it’s normal to be reserved at your age; making you think he relates, when the truth was that as soon as you’d go home and his lights would turn off, his camera would turn on. 

“No, of course not baby. He was just being weird.” The way the familiar nickname rolled out of his mouth smoothly assured you, and you simply nodded with a small grin. “What were you up to before Hyuck flashed you?” You giggled at your own word choice, moving away from Jeno to open the fridge. “Not much, ‘was honestly waiting for you to realize I was gone and look for me.” For some reason, an unusual feeling of unease washed over him at your reaction to his words. You took it lightly, like you take everything. No matter how shamelessly he’d flirt with you, you’d always just smile and look away until the conversation would stray elsewhere. He was sick of acting like it didn’t affect him to see you dismiss him so easily, yet he supposed it was partly his fault, as he never clarified that he meant what he said – you probably just assumed he didn’t. 

“Wanna escape to my place? I’m honestly a bit bored.” Jeno wasn’t bored, he just wanted you all to himself, truthfully. “Sorry, Jen. I have a paper due tomorrow and I’m only halfway done. I was about to head out. Maybe another time?” He simply nodded, masking his disappointment with a shaky breath. Embarrassed from your reoccuring denial, he decided he’d go home anyway.  He had a new idea for a stream anyway, one that projected your relationship as loudly as the rest. It never hurts to do an extra video or two, knowing the pocket change he’d make could serve to take you out for a pastry. 

Tonight, the roles were reversed on HotLonelyStuds, as Jeno’s hand stroked himself quickly, moaning at the sensation. “Take it, fuck. Take it all. Rejecting me when you know you want me? Could’ve been us right now, baby.” His words were muffled, his teeth gritting in an unnaturally stressed way as his other hand reached his throat, pressing harshly. This stream was particularly rough, and although he’d refuse, Jeno knew the true reasoning behind his labored actions. He knew the truth was that he was sick of you ignoring him, when he was always there. Every time you’d complain about your lack of experience, every time you’d cry to him about feeling immature, he wanted to scream in your face that he’s right here! He always has been right there, pliant and willing to help you overcome your inexperience. 

The frustration built more and more, and before Jeno knew it he had come twice, painting his already covered abs white. On his third, he was too immersed to notice the familiar jingle of your spare key – the one he had given you as soon as he moved into his new apartment, letting you know you were welcome any time. 

Clearly, that might’ve not been the case as a loud gasp escaped you. Not bothering to knock on Jeno’s bedroom door, not even having heard his loud groans, you were welcomed with the sight of his heavy dick in his hands, upper body completely bare. Jeno’s eyes were held shut with pleasure until he recognized a stream of light on him that hadn’t been there before, the buzz of his hallway lamp amplifying the already-deafening silence that the two of you shared as you finally made eye contact. In shock, Jeno couldn’t bring himself to cover up. It wasn’t until you shrieked and ran out of the room that he pulled his pants back up, shutting the stream off with no explanation and running after you.

“Baby… I swear it’s not what you think-” “I know what I saw, Jen…” Your frown was making him panic, and he felt tears brimming in his eyes at your words. He was so fucked. “I just… Why didn’t you tell me? You know I don’t care-” “That’s the problem!” Sick of ignoring the obvious, he moved next to you, holding both your wrists in desperation. “You never care. Fuck, you don’t even care right now that you saw my dick out. Even less, that it was because of you.” His words sparked confusion in you, understanding what he was saying but refusing to believe what he insinuated. Surely, Lee Jeno hadn’t been fucking himself in front of a camera because of you. How would that even work?

“I don’t even care anymore, either, Y/n. Don’t care that you caught me, because maybe at least for those three seconds that you saw me, you might’ve had a small part of you in your head saying it’s hot.” “I don’t get it, Jen.” “Yes, you do.”

It wasn’t until you felt Jeno’s breath on your face that you realized how close he had truly gotten, and it was only when he grabbed your wrists that you realized, maybe it doesn’t feel so bad to be held by him like that.

Against your better judgement, your next action was brash as you cupped his face, pulling him in towards yours. The kiss was messy, Jeno’s teeth biting your lips until they began to feel sore. His arm snaked behind your back, lessening the space between you until there was nothing. “Gonna show you what I’ve been doing, baby. All for you.” “W-wait, Jen.” Before he could even push you onto the couch behind you, you pulled away. With every step you took, Jeno’s heart broke more, and his anger grew. Who were you to kiss him, and then reject him not even a minute later? 

In his fury, Jeno failed to realize what you were truly doing until your hand found his and you led him back to his room. His mind became foggy once he saw you approach his computer, searching for something. “Where is it, Jen?” “Where’s what, baby?” “The camera.” At your words, his eyes widened. There was no way you were really doing what he thought you were doing. There was no way you were going to let him fuck you in front of his viewers. 

Feeling as though the opportunity would pass at any second, Jeno jumped up quickly, gently pushing you aside to open the website and program the webcam to turn on. Soon after, the red flickering light on his computer confirmed the fact that it was on, and his hands were back on you, sliding down towards the back of your thighs and pulling you onto him. 

The kiss grew heavy once more, Jeno so focused that he didn’t even give context to his viewers who had never seen him with another girl before. Had he read the chat though, he’d be pleasantly surprised to see the positive feedback. Maybe he would’ve even seen Haechan’s texts that were flooding his phone. WTF? I TOLD YOU, YOU WHORE, that quickly progressed into encouragement, fuckk dude, lift her shirt up a bit, always wanted to see her pretty tits.

Unknowingly, Jeno fed into Haechan’s perversions as he also grew tired of the fabric holding you back from him. His big hands held onto your waist before lifting you up and turning you around, so you’d be sitting on his lap facing towards the camera instead of him. The light whimpers you’d let out at his every move gained traction from the chat, who were now spamming comments asking Jeno to fuck the shit out of you. Well, who was he to deny his fans?

You felt Jeno’s lips attach to your neck, as well as his long fingers slipping under your shirt, cupping your bare tits. He hated the fact that you never wore a bra near him, leaving little to his imagination when he wasn’t allowed to touch you. A shit-eating grin replaced his focused expression as he heard your breath hitch when he finally pinched your nipple, stopping for a second to effortlessly rip your shirt off over your head. Now exposed and riddled with goosebumps, Jeno sucked harder, leaving blemishes and marks all over your shoulder. His hands tweaked each nipple, pulling harder to draw more reactions from you.

This time, instead of a gasp, you simply grinded down on him out of instinct, the feeling finally pulling a moan from Jeno’s own throat. His chest still bare from when you had walked in on him earlier, pressed against your back as he held you close, pulling your little shorts off alongside your panties in one swift move. 

You were embarrassingly wet, hating yet loving the way Jeno stared at you through the screen of his own computer. He watched you with hunger in his eyes, as if he was going to devour you, and the worst part is that you began to like the idea. 

Your eyes shut close as you felt his fingers run down your slit, wetting them before he bullied two into you at once. You winced from the pain, not having time to recover before Jeno was thrusting in and out of you. His frustrations escaping him in the form of passion as his other hand planted gentle circles to your clit. Your cunt began to clench around him, a pit in your stomach forming as you let out moan after moan. It was only when he added another finger that you squirmed, the pit fully dropping. The shock on Jeno’s face was evident as a clear liquid covered both you and him once you came. Never in his life would he have expected you to squirt. He didn’t let out though, continuing to thrust his fingers in you until you fully rode out your high, clawing at his hands from the overstimulation.

Although he stopped, the breath you were catching got stuck in your throat once you felt something much larger than his fingers prodding at your cunt. He was big – honestly not a shock to you, who always heard him brag to the rest of your friends before he swore celibacy in solidation with you. Nothing could prepare you for the feeling of his tip pulsing in you, or his strong arms wrapping around you to hold your inner thighs, spreading you out to the camera, full pussy on display.

Hearing your gasps, Jeno stopped to let you adjust, yet it didn’t last long as you clenched around him. Albeit slower than he wanted to, he entered inch by inch until his cock was fully enveloped by your heat. You felt so good, how he knew you would. 

“‘Gonna move now, baby. Hold on to me.” You nodded although your eyes were painfully squeezing close. Jeno couldn’t take the slow pace as he thrusted in and out gently, and you granted his wish as you looked up towards his direction. “Y-you can move, Jen.” His moan was loud as he finally bottomed out, not nearly in as much control over his actions as he was before.

As soon as your pained whimpers shifted to soft gasps, he finally sped up, holding onto your thighs with a bruising grip. His moans were muffled as he whined into your neck. You felt every ridge and vein on his cock, stuffed deep inside of your cunt. Looking at the computer’s display, you felt yourself clench even more at the sight. With a clear view of Jeno’s face, the way he bit his lip and shut his eyes, you felt closer than ever. Jeno was close behind, not being able to take the tight squeeze you had around him anymore.

His pace fastened, thrusting up into you, pistoling in and out with desperation. “So good, fuck baby. You’re squeezing me so tight, ‘wanted this as bad as me?” Your fucked out face was evident as you simply nodded your head, eyes rolling up into your head. With one more hard thrust, you came once more, followed quickly by him. The feeling of his spent shooting inside of you fogged your mind up, and you had to clamp a hand to your mouth to silence yourself. 

Regaining his breath, he lifted you until his dick was fully out of you, laying you comfortably aside before standing up and approaching his laptop. Waving with a successful grin on his face, he shut the computer off. Putting on the nearest boxers on his bed, his next destination was the bathroom, where he gathered a warm wet towel to clean you up. 

You weren’t asleep per se, when he came back, yet your refusal to open your eyes accompanied by your lack of speech told Jeno that you were too exhausted to function, so he let you lay down. In truth, he always dreamed of spoiling you, taking care of you after fucking you to sleep. The only indicator that you were still awake was the small squeeze you gave his hand when he laid behind you, swelling his heart with several emotions. The moment was perfect, one that would forever be remembered in his head as heaven, until he picked his phone up to check the time. 

Can’t believe she squirted… screen recorded all that by the way dude, never thought I’d be so turned on watching you both lol

Jeno didn’t think twice before blocking Haechan’s contact, putting his phone down and cuddling back into you.

a/n: haiii guys i just realized i haven't made anything about jeno yet and ugh i was watching the poison track video he looks so goodddd that look is what i had in mind while making this i hope you guys enjoy :3

[angelltheninth]

Do you think the Arcane lesbians tie their hair back when eating out?

Ya'll really trying to make me go feral with these eh?

Pairing: Vi, Caitlyn, Maddie, Sevika, Ambessa x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, cunnilingus, hair-pulling, teasing, biting, being pinned down, praise, clit slapping

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: As far as I know Ambessa is a bisexual queen so I'm putting her in here.

Vi ran her hand through her buzzcut and sighed. "I mean, I can tie my hair back but I don't really see the point. It's just on the one side of my face, and my back." She shrugged as she leaned further down between your legs. "It doesn't bother me. What about you?"

"Not really. I thought you might wanna do it so I can see your eyes more clearly. Your hair has been getting a bit longer lately. Might need a haircut some time soon." You hooked your legs around Vi's shoulders and sighed heavily as her tongue prodded against your entrance.

As she licked into you your hands ran through her hair, seeing her point as your hands were enough to hold her hair back. She didn't need a hair tie. She looked perfect just like this, between your legs, about to eat you out like you were her last meal.

"If you wanna keep looking at me better keep those hands in place, sweet stuff." Her teasing words made you moan and tighten your grip. You didn't want her to stop, so you would do as you were told.

With your hands and your legs keeping her in pace Vi moved her tongue through your wet folds, savoring your sweet taste and the ever present tug you gave against her scalp every time her tongue played with your clit. The real reason why she enjoyed it is because she didn't mind the pain, when it mixed with pleasure.

If Caitlyn ties her hair back when you two have sex then you know she feels like giving rather than receiving that night. As soon as you saw her do it you knew you were for a really long night. "What are you smiling like that for darling?" Caitlyn asked as she leaned in for a kiss.

With a smirk and not breaking the kiss you pulled her on top of you and cupper her cheeks. "You know why. You tied your hair back. Just seeing you do that gets me wet." Caitlyn's eyebrows furrowed and she tilted her head. Her hands cupped over yours before she pushed them to your sides and kissed down your body. It seemed to make her conflicted that you knew what she was gonna do.

"Am I that predictable? Should I do something to spice things up?" There was something dangerous in her eyes as she asked. "Since you can see what I do, perhaps a nice blindfold, to keep you guessing."

"I-I wouldn't be opposed to that." You spread your legs open further and moved your panties to the side. "What else do you wanna do to me?"

Caitlyn looked up at you right as her tongue pressed against your clit and stayed there. She pulled away after a few seconds. "I'm sure I can think of a few things. After I make you come." You couldn't think of anything either as Caitlyn started mercilessly licking at your clit.

Maddie always wore her hair tied back except for when she was sleeping or taking a shower. It was no different when she was between your legs. Other might argue she's silly when she ties her hair back like that but they don't know how much easier it makes it to please her favorite girl.

"Do you not like it? You always said my ponytail was pretty cute. What changed?" The look on her face was an almost rejected pout.

"Nothing." You laughed at the idea that she thought you were rejecting her sense of style. "I love how you look with your hair tied up. Makes you look so damn cute. when you're under me like this."

In retaliation of you calling her cute Maddie bit your inner thigh, pretty hard too, which made you exhale sharply and brace yourself against the headboard of the bed. "Don't go calling me cute while I'm making you come all over my face." The fact that you were above her, pussy dripping on her wasn't enough to make her blush, but your praise sure did.

"Aww, but you are cute. My cute, sweet girl. Being so good for me right now yeah?" As if it could help her Maddie pressed her face between your legs again, her tongue licking at double speed. "See, you're going so good. Of course you are, using your tongue just the way I want you to."

"Sweetheart, fuck, hold on, stop for a moment." Sevika moved away from you, her chin dripping with your pussy juices. You groaned, tried to pull her back but she pushed you back. "I said hold on. I'm just getting something real quick. I'll be right back."

You licked your lips as you watched her make her way to one of the drawers. To your disappointment it wasn't the one where she kept her strap, but she did pull out a hair tie. The disappointment may have been on your face for a split second but Sevika saw it and it made her grin even wider.

"Don't look so let down. I'm about to eat your sweet cunt until you pass out. Now lay back and wait until I get this thing on." It was a bit of a challenge to do with one hand. You saw her struggle with it before.

You sighed and gave her a bit of encouragement. "I can do that for you. I'm really good with my fingers." You waived at her with one hand while cupping your pussy with the other. "So I've been told anyway."

Sevika's eyes widened when she saw your slick dripping onto the sheets. "Hey, hands off what's mine. You're being a real brat right now." She fumbled with the hair tie a few more times before she managed to get it on. Her hand grabbed your wrist. "Mine." She growled possessively as she pushed her tongue into your pussyhole.

Ambessa never ties her hair back unless she's on the battlefield. She has no reason to tie her hair when she's in bed with you, pinning you down by the hips and absolutely feasting, licking and sucking on your clit and keeping your pussy lips parted so she can see your hole clench around nothing.

"More, please, please, I want you inside." You begged, your voice strained as you tried to push her face further down.

"Hm, brave tonight. Aren't you, pet? Thinking you can order me around, grabbing my hair like that. Was I away for too long that you forgot yourself?" She pulled away, her rough palm delivering a hard slap on your clit. Then another, and another until you were a crying, drooling mess. "Behave yourself."

Unfortunately, or fortunately, you couldn't do that. Your nails dug into her hair further and you saw her roll her eyes. "I'm sorry. I missed you so much, I promise I'll behave next time. Just... please..."

"Fine, fine." Ambessa reached over to the nightstand and pulled her hair back into a bun. It wasn't nearly as neat as she usually wore it but she was in a hurry. "I'll spend all night reminding your body of who it belongs to." The look she gave you then was similar to how you saw her look at her targets across the battlefield, dark, cocky, a little amused, and very determined.

[banditcoyote]

He accepted the petting fot a moment before starting. "Well," he pushed himself up and wrapped and arm around Sasuga as he started recalling their evening. "I helped him with the horses from the carriage, then we snuck around the side of the house so I could sneak into Echo's office and lay the panties out for him to find. We went for a little run together around the property, but we couldn't find much privacy because a lot of wolves were patrolling. We went back to the stable, made out for a bit, and I went down on him....familiar territory." He said with a little smile. "So then we headed back to his apartment, and we had another drink. We went to bed....and you know, things were getting there. Sasuga...I know you don't want a level of detail or anything, but he was being....he was great, and I'm not even talking on just a talent level,but he was really going slow, and letting us take our time, and I was comfortable with him, but I started getting a bit nervous because I was worried about you. I was really worried that maybe you'd see me differently, and that it would be a wedge between us, and instead of you know saying it like that, or explaining my fear in a normal way...I said...." He closed his eyes and sighed "You're not worth losing Sasuga over" He let this hang in the air for a moment and then shook his head. "It was like I slapped him. And of course I meant...you know...I didn't want to damage what we have because I wanted a bit of fun, but saying 'You're not worth it'? When he was being so great all night, and so perfect with me, to someone I like... It would have been better if I had slapped him I think. As soon as I said it. I realized my mistake I tried to explain, and of course he listened, but I could tell it cut him, and obviously ruined the mood, I asked him for more, I nearly begged because I felt so terrible, I didn't know how to make it up to him. But of course he wouldn't and instead got me settled down, made me a tea, cuddled with me even though that just made me more miserable, but shut down any advances beyond kissing. In the morning he was still there being the big spoon, he kissed my cheek, jacked me off, made me an amazing breakfast and walked me back here to wait with me until you sent that video...he must have taken off when I left." He said truly blinded by Sasuga when he came back into the room. "I feel awful."

Blood and Moonlight

Sasuga woke in what was at first an unfamiliar area but as she blinked fully awake she realized it was their closet that Coyote had decorated for them. She smiled and took a careful kiss from her mate who was still sound asleep next to her. It really had been an amazing night with the family and then with her husband. As she slipped from his arms, she took a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers dancing over the fresh marks on her neck and hips. She couldn't have asked for anything more from the night and it was with some reluctance that she dressed. She picked out a pair of warm leggings and a short little skirt to pull over them with some knee high boots and a thick sweater. She slipped from the closet and moved to the bathroom to comb her hair and brush her teeth and get ready for the big day ahead. She gave a stretch and headed downstairs only to find a familiar face waiting for her. "Raphael..." she smiled and moved to greet him with a hug. "I see you are still alive." she smirked. "Want some tea? Coffee?"

@banditcoyote

[43qh]

is this forever? (m)

quinn hughes x fem!reader

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: unprotected sex, soft and sweet!

word count: 2.4k

summary: love is so many different things.

love is a consumption.

you’re convinced it consumes you more than anything else. when you look at quinn, there’s nothing left in your body but love for him. when he has those distressed eyes, you make sure to clear them up. the crinkle in his forehead disappears around you.

when it came to offseason, quinn couldn’t keep his eyes and hands off of you. he was victim to the way you felt in his arms. he considered nothing more perfect.

with you below him, undressed, all for his taking. he couldn’t contain himself. your moans were a calling for him to keep going. each thrust making him sweat a little bit more. buried deep inside you like he was made for you. like you were made for him.

he whispers softly in your ear, “feels so much better than my hand.” he huffs when you clench around him. he wants to savor this moment. “you’re so tight, so warm.”

the sounds you make is music to his ears. it sounds like love to him. quinn was a love maker, you knew that all too well. there were times when he got a bit rough, no complaining on your end. but he was made for this kind of intimacy.

quinn was a lover.

quinn was your lover.

his thrusts were slow, deep. his breaths were uneven at the feeling of you wrapped around him. you could hear the occasional groan and whimper come from him when you clawed at his back a little harder, or when you wrapped your legs around his back to pull him closer. he can’t stop from falling to his elbows at the sensation, falling weak to you.

he groans in your ear, listening to your moans like they’re prayers. “close?” he was out of breath, unable to form a full sentence.

you nod, sweat collecting at the brim of your forehead, “yes, yes, quinn.”

quinn can’t stop his hips from picking up pace at the declaration. he lives for the way you moan his name, the tightening in his chest driving him crazy.

when you cum around his cock, it feels like a chain reaction. he can’t stop the way he cums with you, the way he fills you up to the brim with belated breaths.

the air felt hot and heavy as the both of you calm down, hearts beating in sync like the two of you were one person.

“i love you.” he looks over at you, tilting his head and kissing your cheek.

you hum, “i love you, quinn.”

he kisses your shoulder, “let’s clean up.”

love is time consuming.

not in a bad way.

your thoughts sway back and forth to quinn in everything you do. you make coffee, and the way he likes his coffee comes forth. when he’s gone, you think of how warm he feels laying next to you. you iron his clothes and think about how he looks inside them.

when you hear your phone ring, you know it’s quinn. no one else calls you so consistently the way he does.

“beautiful,” he greets, his voice a little rugged.

“handsome,” you greet back, a smile on your face. you clutch your phone a little tighter in anticipation as he continues on about his day and what he had accomplished. it was routinely when he wasn’t home. it was enough for you.

you could see the furrow in his brows in your mind. the way his lips looked when he talked. the way he would lick them in between sentences. the way he would try to stretch his back.

maybe you knew his habits all too well.

“i can’t wait to come home.” he huffs, and you hear him laying back on a bed.

you sit on the living room couch of your shared house, “i can’t wait either.”

you knew quinn was smiling, “i love you, gorgeous.” his voice grew softer.

you closed your eyes and just listened, “i love you too, quinny.”

he grunts at the nickname, but says nothing about it. there’s a long pause between the two of you. as if you were both just enjoying the company of one another, even if it was over the phone.

you open your eyes and look at the time, realizing just how late it must be for him. “you should sleep.”

quinn huffs, “miss you.”

you smile and bite your lip, “i miss you, too. but i’ll be here tomorrow.”

quinn can’t stop the smile that droops on his sleepy features, “promise?”

“promise.”

“goodnight then, angel.” he yawns.

you smile again, “goodnight, quinn.”

the hang up feels dreadful, but your mind is consumed with the way he talked to you for the rest of the night.

his voice, the way you imagined him sprawled on the bed, his soft words.

quinn will always be on your mind. time and time again.

love is beautiful.

quinn wasn’t the type for slow dancing. but when it was just the two of you, dancing alone to the faint sound of a love song, he couldn’t help the way his heart swelled from the feeling of you in his arms.

love songs reminded him of you. you looked so graceful, a small smile playing on your face as you look at him. he feels the way your hands clasp tighter around his neck, and he smiles back.

his hands rest lovingly along your waist, swaying the two of you back and forth and around the room. quinn wouldn’t do this for anyone else. you had him in your grip tighter than you thought.

“you’re a good dancer,” you state, tilting your head in curiosity.

he loves the way your eyes shine under the faint light of the lamp in the room, “you’re better.”

quinn spins you around before pulling you flush against him. your chest pressed against his, breaths labored as he stops for a second to admire you.

you’re both in pajamas, and you want to think about how ridiculous this must look, but you honestly didn’t care. the way quinn was looking at you felt like you were the most beautiful woman on earth. and he believed that.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, starting to sway again, but never loosening his hold on you.

you lick your lips, eyes curious and wide, “so are you.”

quinn grins at the side of his mouth, noticing how nervous you were from the close contact. he loved how he could still bring out these kinds of reactions from you, even after being together for almost two years. he would be lying to himself if you didn’t make him react the same way. he can feel the shivers down his spine when you run your fingers through his hair in a soft, loving way.

quinn can’t stop himself from kissing you. his lips move in a languid way that makes your skin light up in a blaze. you almost feel hot, his fingers grasping at your waist with more fervor.

he loves the way you moan in his mouth, the sound vibrating through his body and making him deepen the kiss. he couldn’t resist you even if he tried.

at this point, the dancing has come to a full halt. the two of you more focused on feeling one another. you tug on his hair a bit, making him groan and pull away with wet lips.

“couldn’t resist you,” he gasps, looking at you with a goofy smile.

you giggle softly, and quinn can feel the way his heart picks up at the sound, “i couldn’t either.”

quinn could live this way forever.

love is patience.

quinn huffs as he slowly slides inside of you. and you lick your lips, looking up at him with a gorgeous glint in your eyes. it would be so romantic if only he didn’t want to completely ruin you. make a mess of your makeup.

you look at him with deer eyes, bright and wide. he lets out a small groan, eyes turning lidded at the sight of you as he bottoms out inside you. he patiently waits for you to adjust, basking in your glory. watching the way sweat starts to form on your forehead. he smiles to himself at the way he can get you so worked up with such little effort. you were truly made for him.

“tell me to move,” he says it in more of a question than a statement. you nod your head, signaling for him to move. he can’t help himself from pulling back to where only the tip of his cock sits inside you, before slamming back into you. the gasp that leaves your lips is worth it.

he sighs, leaning down to press his lips against your shoulder, earning a whine as a prize. he can hear you perfectly in this angle. your moans and gasps going straight into his ear. he closes his eyes in a flurry of bliss. the way you tighten around him as he slowly rocks his hips against your own makes him go almost mad.

he can’t stop the way his hips pick up in pace. he wants to make this last, he wants to listen to you beg for more. his prayers are answered as you whine, “quinn, please, more.” your breaths are shaky and sharp.

quinn licks his own lips, smirking to himself. “wanna make this last, baby.”

you writhe below him, making him groan as he feels the way you tighten up and take him in more. he places a hand on your hip, pushing you back down and tsking at you.

“where’s my good girl, huh?” quinn chastises, making your whines louder and louder. he soaks it in, before finally giving you what you want. he figures you’ve been patient enough. plus he was starting to lose his own patience.

he thrusts into you with feverish pace, making goosebumps form on your skin. “oh, god.”

he smiles, leaning back to look down at you and the way your eyes roll into the back of your head like you’ve seen god. he loves the way you gasp his name, telling him how good he feels. his cock twitches when you tighten up around him even more. his pace is turning brutal and he can no longer help himself.

“atta girl,” he whispers, “take it like a good girl.”

that was your undoing. you couldn’t help it. his voice was a mixture of loving and raspy. it made your inside tingle and your pussy clench around him. your back rises up to his chest as he finishes alongside you, his cum seeping inside you. you gasp one last time, out of breath.

“fuck,” quinn groans.

you smile, hands grabbing his shoulders and pulling him down for a kiss. “so good.”

quinn smiles in the kiss.

the patience is always worth it.

love is forgiving.

“i told you, quinn. it’s okay.” you look at him with soft eyes. quinn pouts at you.

“you said you wanted to go out to dinner tonight.” he sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed.

you shake your head with a smile on your lips, “no, no. i just want to be with you.”

you and quinn had reservations but an emergency came along and he didn’t make it home in time. he was so frustrated with himself, he felt a heavy weight in his chest. that was until you came along and eased his worries.

“i promise, quinn. there are so many more dinners left in our lifetime.” you sit beside him and kiss his cheek. he looks at you with apologetic eyes before kissing you slowly and softly on the lips.

“i don’t deserve you.” he whispers against your lips before kissing you again, raising a hand to your face to pull you closer.

you smile and pull away, looking into his eyes with a sparkle, “other way around, my love.”

he shakes his head, his hair shaking with him. “hush.”

he kisses your lips again, apologies lying within them.

he could never understand how accepting and loving you always were. and little did he know, you thought the same way he did.

love is forever.

quinn rubs his sweaty hands on his pants. he feels the heavy weight of the ring in his pocket. he’s waiting for you to come home. he doesn’t want to waste time the second you walk through the door, but he knows it’s best to wait for good things to come along.

he smiles and kisses you, embracing you in a hug. you exchange the hug, hanging your purse beforehand. you smile at him, nothing out of the ordinary for you.

you look into his eyes and see the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. he looks and sees the same.

you look around and notice that dinner is already prepared for the two of you. you raise and eyebrow, “hm? dinner?”

quinn nods, licking his lips in anticipation, “yeah, thought i’d spoil you.”

you smile and kiss his cheek, “thank you, sweetie.”

he bites back a smile, but you can see it nonetheless. you walk to the table, looking at the array of food. “wow, this must have taken-”

you’re cut off when you turn around to a quinn hughes with one knee on the floor. you gasp, hand raising to your mouth. it felt like something out of a movie. your eyes were welling up with tears.

“my sweet, gorgeous girlfriend,” he starts, “this might sound so cliché, but the moment my eyes laid on your own, i knew you were going to be the one for me. i adored you the second we spoke, and fell in love the first time we kissed. i have many flaws. and i want to be able to share my future with you for the rest of our lives.” he opens the ring box, “will you marry me? make me the happiest man to ever live?”

you just nod, holding out your ring finger as you cry happy tears. you want to respond to everything he has said, but the most you can do is raise him to his feet as fast as possible and kiss him. the ring looks absolutely beautiful on you, shining under the light of the dining room lights.

“yes,” you whisper between kisses, “of course yes, quinn.”

quinn is the luckiest man alive.

quinn is ready for forever. and so are you.

a/n: so sorry for the long wait. and i’m sorry if it doesn’t live up to the anticipation. love you!

[armpirate]

Borrowed Skin || JJK

pairing: JK x fem!reader || Obsessive love, Impersonation

w.c.: 6.3k

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, teasing (Minors DNI! Refrain from reading if you're not +18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content)

Aprox. time of reading: 28 minutes

Summary: Something felt different about your boyfriend, Junghoon, after not seeing each other for four days, though you couldn't quite put your finger on it. Familiar gestures felt slightly foreign, shared memories were met with hesitation, and the faintest shadows of someone else lingered in his eyes. What you didn't know was that Jungkook, his twin brother, had killed your boyfriend to take his place. Hungry for a life he could never have any other way, he came up with a plan in order to claim the love he had always desired.

MASTERLIST

It was late evening, and your phone buzzed with a message from Junghoon, your boyfriend. You met a few years ago. It was like the first scene of the couple in a romantic movie, with your hands brushing momentarily as you both went to pick up the same thing in the supermarket. You could almost say it was instant, just one look and a bit of conversation, and you both knew neither wanted to move away from each other.

Everything was perfect, except for his brother, Jungkook. They were almost identical, except for the tattoos on Junghoon's arm that covered his full sleeve, which his brother didn't have. Same with their piercings. Jungkook only had a few on his ears, while Junghoon also had two on his lips.

The differences weren't only physical:

Junghoon was always the responsible one, the kind of person who double-checked plans and took pride in being dependable. He had a steady, grounded energy that made you feel safe. You loved that about him. He was attentive, but not overly sentimental, he showed his care through actions, not words. Although, lately, that side of him was also fading.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He thrived on chaos, living in the moment without thinking of consequences. He'd always been a wildcard, the kind of guy who could light up a room but also burn it down. And the kind of guy who would constantly get Junghoon in trouble constantly when they were still close.

You remembered the tension between them vividly: Junghoon often vented about Jungkook's reckless choices, saying things like, "He thinks life's a game, but it's not. One day, he's going to go too far." Jungkook would retaliate with sarcastic remarks, mocking Junghoon for being too uptight.

Their arguments weren't just sibling spats, they were deep, filled with years of unresolved jealousy and blame. It made it easy for you to tell them apart, not just in personality but even in how they carried themselves. Junghoon's calm demeanor was worlds away from Jungkook's restless energy, which always ended up with your boyfriend also being dragged in whatever problem he was in.

You sighed when reading your boyfriend's text. He had been away all weekend, he actually canceled plans with you at the last minute on Friday, which you simply shrugged off, because it wasn't the first time it happened. He always had a last minute conference for his book, a last minute presentation or interview he couldn't place.

Junghoon: What are you doing?

Y/n: I'm coming back home... Where are you?

Junghoon: I went to the gym

Y/n: You? To the gym? You hate it...

Junghoon: Yup. Thought it'd be time to give it a chance

You simply rolled your eyes, leaving your small bag at the passenger's side of your car, your lip trapped under your teeth as you looked at the screen.

Junghoon: Do you want to do something now?

Y/n: Like what?

Junghoon: Prepare some blankets and some snacks, we're cuddling until dinner time.

You were confused, but you weren't going to oppose him. You actually liked the idea of doing something together after so long.

Junghoon: I'm on my way

Y/n: Okay. I'm shopping, but I'll be there in 10. Use your keys if early

Jungkook smiled at the text looking back at him, his smirk widening at the idea of seeing you after so long, for the first time in Junghoon's skin. He had always seen you from afar, always hooked on his brother's arm, but that night things would be different.

Even if it took him erasing Junghoon from the equation and taking his place, Jungkook would be finally able to be right where he belonged: right next to you.

His heartbeat kept beating faster as he approached your building... And a question popped up: would you be able to tell he wasn't Junghoon? Or would he be able to play your boyfriend so well that you wouldn't notice?

After he parked the motorbike, he played with the keys in his hand, the item tingling in his fingers as he looked at the mailbox to confirm which one was your door.

The house was a reflection of you: warm and orderly, with small imperfections that spoke of a life lived rather than curated. He exhaled slowly, steadying the tremor in his fingers. That wasn't the first step; that had been weeks ago. But this was the moment he crossed the line, fully stepping into Junghoon's life. Into your life. Officially adopting an identity and a personality that didn't belong to him only so he'd be able to be with you.

"Love?" his voice sounded a bit deeper than usual when calling for you.

After not hearing from you after a few seconds, he assumed you didn't arrive yet and closed the door behind him. His helmet rested on the backrest of your couch as he planned on walking around. You didn't have many details in the living room, but it was obvious on the small frames placed on the shelves on both sides of your TV that you liked to make it known that house was yours. Guilt and worry held onto his chest as his eyes fell on a picture you had with Junghoon, then to a new one.

And he wondered... was he going to be able to play the perfect boyfriend his brother always was?

Before he could think any deeply about it, the door clicked behind him, and he suddenly turned to see you. Your small frame was bent more towards one side than the other, because the weight of the bags you were carrying in one hand was too heavy.

Jungkook walked to you before you could open your mouth, his hands brushing against yours and forcing him to ignore the electricity to act as normal as he could.

"Thank you, love" you whispered, closing the door.

His walk was intuitive, thanking himself for being early and taking a look around your place to know where things were. Your tracks stopped when you spotted the helmet, ignoring the rustle from the bags in the kitchen.

"What's with the helmet?" you asked confused.

For a moment, he didn't respond, his face unreadable. Then he laughed, a little too quickly, a little too loud. "Oh, that? It's not mine. It's... a friend's. He brought me on his motorbike. I've been meaning to return it."

You frowned. "A friend's?"

He shrugged, still moving inside the kitchen, knowing his lie would be caught as soon as you looked him in the eye. "Yeah, someone I met at the gym" he said, mentioning it like it was no big deal.

And it wouldn't be... if it weren't because his brother wasn't the perfect boyfriend he always showed off to be.

He assumed you'd already know everyone in Junghoon's workplace and his group of friends, adding someone in the picture from a background you didn't know of was a quick way of escaping, without any more questions.

You nodded slowly, still trying to process the oddness of it all. You didn't want to be paranoid. Hell, you promised you left behind all of your insecurities and doubts after what happened, but you couldn't help but let all of those feelings come back at you again with Junghoon's strange behavior that night. Showing up in the middle of the night, so eager to see you, with that same nervousness... It almost felt like a throwback to...

You shook your head, trying to erase those thoughts.

"Do I know this friend?" you asked, half-joking, trying to shake the strange feeling gnawing at your stomach.

He paused, the rustle of bags suddenly stopping. "I don't think so," he said lightly. "I told you it was someone from the gym."

The answer should have satisfied you, but it didn't. Something about the way he avoided any type of honesty when he spoke made your chest tighten. You didn't push further, though. You told yourself it was nothing -Junghoon was just tired. Maybe he really had changed, even in small ways. People did, right?

The rustle of the bags came back as you started making your way to the kitchen, his wide back completely eclipsing whatever he was doing on the counter. "Come on," he said, flashing you that familiar smile over his shoulder, "I'll let you pick a movie to watch until it's time for dinner."

You returned his smile, letting yourself be pulled into the comfort of the moment. Although it lasted just a short moment, because your teeth trapped your lower lip before you could even control yourself.

"Babe" you called him, getting his attention. "You know you can tell me anything, right? I mean..." you readjusted yourself in the kitchen, resting against the wall, shifting your position so you'd be able to look at him "There's no secrets between us".

Jungkook hesitated, knowing what your gaze meant. Yet, at the same time, he knew that look wasn't because you were suspicious of his fake personality. It was something else he couldn't decipher, but it made his heart shrink with a guilt he wasn't the owner of.

"I do have something to tell you" he finally said.

As much as you'd have loved to be relieved by that sentence, it made your pulse quicken. Because last time it started the exact same way.

"The helmet" he said, trying to control himself by redirecting his thoughts on the conversation "is mine. I didn't want to tell you, because it was going to be a surprise, but I'm a mess and ruined it. I've been studying to get the license" he finally admitted. "I bought a motorbike recently..."

"You did what?" you frowned. "That's..." definitely better than everything you had imagined. "Oh god, that's great" you smiled widely. "The amount of things we'll be able to do, and all the places we'll go".

Jungkook's heart fluttered at the way your expression changed, opening the door to an excited rambling with several ideas you were clearly already thinking of.

"You liked the surprise, baby?"

"Yes, yes" you nodded repeatedly. "You kept it to yourself so well, I wouldn't have seen it coming at all".

"Yeah... I thought it'd be better for all the plans I want to do with you, hmm? We could go on a small trip during your holidays, I could pick you up from work..."

"I... You didn't even hint at it. You're usually so bad at keeping secrets" you sighed, relieved at what he was keeping from you.

"It was a surprise worth of keeping from you"

"I'm happy though" you smiled at him, started to take out all the groceries you bought. "I'm happy you finally got a license. I would have rathered it to be a car, you know, it's safer. But it's great" to prolong the comfort and happiness, you turned to him with a smile, finding him supporting himself on the doorframe "It's really great" you nodded again. "You know what?"

"What, baby?"

"I bought you your favorite dessert"

He tried to hide the surprise and confusion, knowing damn well you're referring to Junghoon's. Trying to keep himself from messing it up, he opted for a neutral answer: "You're spoiling me, baby".

As he watched you pacing around the kitchen, putting all the things perfectly in the drawers, he couldn't help but notice how you seemed comfortable in his presence, unaware that he wasn't your boyfriend, a little too happy with the domestic aura it all gave. For one second, he could only feel guilty of not doing what he did earlier.

"You're not going to ask why I showed up unannounced?" he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, trying to push away the guilt that gnawed at him. But at the same time, the feeling of having you in his arms was exhilarating.

"Why?" you asked softly, leaning into his body.

"I missed you" he murmured in your ear, his voice low and filled with desire. His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

His eyes shut close when your fingers moved up to his hair, enjoying the feeling. Your touch sent shivers down his spine, making him crave more. Instinctively his body against yours, his lips finding their way to your neck, planting soft kisses along your skin.

"I love you" he subconsciously said, with his lips attached to your scent while his hands roamed through your curves.

"Baby" you puckered your lips, touched by his words "I love you, too".

He buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent and trying to commit it to memory, while his fingers ran through it, gently massaging your scalp as you stood there in your kitchen.

He slid his hands underneath your shirt, caressing your bare skin, making you hum at how warm he surprisingly felt. "You're so warm" you mumbled, snuggling closer.

"You feel so nice and soft in my arms" one of his hands made its way down to your thigh. "Hmm, the best" he gave your thigh a light squeeze and then slowly ran his fingers up and down the outside, moving his digits until they brushed against the hem of the fabric of your t-shirt.

"I'm glad you came" you confessed with a soft whisper.

Jungkook smiled against your shoulder, his face hiding in the crook of your neck "Why wouldn't I be here doing what I love the most?"

"Well... You always say your job is so important".

Junghoon loved you, you knew he did, but he also found a million other things more important than you, and he didn't hesitate to remind you. Now, having him behind you, his chest stuck to your back as he hugged you tight when he was supposed to be at work, you felt a warmth in your heart you hadn't felt in a long while.

"Of course it is, but you're even more important to me" he chuckled at your action, loving the way you tried to fit against his body.

You were tired of the amount of times you'd heard that same sentence on him, only to be paid dust all the time. But, somehow, those words felt so genuine that night...

"From now on, I promise I'll focus on you only. I promise" he whispered, with his lips brushing against your earlobe.

"I'm glad our arguments finally got some sense for you" you joked, although you weren't really joking.

For one second, Jungkook wondered how his brother could even think of believing anything was more important than being with you in his arms. How could Junghoon ever think of not putting you in first place?

"You don't know how much I hated those arguments, baby" he looked into your eyes when you turned your face, his gaze and tone both growing somber at the mention.

"Me, too. I hate being mad at you" you kissed his lips.

"Being mad at you was like torture. Those fights felt like hell" slowly, he made you turn on your feet, the feeling of you in his arms already making him feel better.

"What comes after those fights is worth it though" you smirked, hiding your face on his neck.

Jungkook chuckled, endeared by the way you hid how your cheeks turned a lighter shade of pink "Yeah, my clingy baby gets even clingier after our fights" he grinned and his hand rubbed up and down your thigh.

There was something about his touch, his words... or the way he was holding you like he actually wanted you that kept you pushing for more. You started kissing his cheek, but quickly moved down his jaw and throat, feeling him gulp thick under your lips.

"Mmm, baby, that feels nice" he tilted his head to the side to give you even better access to his neck.

You moved back up, your lips rubbing against his. "You like that?"

He brought his hands up to the sides of your face and pulled you closer, his lips hovering over yours, wondering if that was always how you made things up.

"Hmm" he nodded " And I think you're so cute"

He gave your nose a small kiss before kissing your lips softly, gently pulling on your lower lip with his. With every second, he deepened the kiss, gently pushing his tongue into your mouth, pulling and playing with yours. Your fingers sank deeper in his hair, flicking your tongue on his while your hands started moving down his torso. A low hum and a moan escaped his lips as he felt your fingers move, his hands sliding up and down your thighs before eventually gripping your hips. A gasp broke the kiss when you felt his hands on your hips, pressing you a bit harder against his crotch, and as you started to rock your hips against him, you felt that need for him starting to build up.

His teeth crushed on your neck, sucking at the skin to give you a mark as his hips continued to move against yours. His hands traveled down the back of your thighs, digging into your flesh as he started rolling your hips against him, slowly getting addicted to the way you felt against him. He didn't think twice, lifting your body so you were sitting on the counter.

He was left confused when you sat straight in front of him, although your smirk calmed him down almost immediately. His pulse raced up when you started taking your shirt off, his eyes falling down to your chest. His hands moved through your smooth soft skin, traveling up your sides, while his eyes shined as if that was the first time he saw you that way.

You didn't give him time to think, because you bent over to kiss him before he could. His hands were placed on either side of your neck, pulling you back down to his lips, the kiss immediately growing more and more hungry, his tongue immediately seeking access to your mouth again.

"Babe" you whispered against his lips, "what do you want?"

"You, I only want you"

"I'm all yours"

A smirk played on his lips as he heard the words fall so freely from your lips, your eagerness only fueling his hunger for you. The fact that he thought he'd never hear those words from you, and even less dedicated to him, made his head spin. His hands slide up your sides and then down again, his fingers hooking onto the waistband of your pants as he looked into your eyes

"Is that so? You're all mine and mine only?"

"Only yours" you whispered.

You didn't care about how many times you needed to confirm that, because that was the truth.

"Good girl" he groaned, those two words, so simple yet impactful, made your blood run faster through your veins.

He tugged on your pants, signaling for you to lift your hips up a bit so he could take them off, and you helped, supporting your hands on his shoulders to give him enough space to get you naked.

As his eyes traced a silent path through your body, you couldn't help but tilt your head. "Liking what you see?" your hands moved up through his shirt.

His answer, forward yet nervous, came up as if it was the most obvious answer "Shit, I love it"

You didn't need to speak for your boyfriend to help you take off his t-shirt, it was enough with the way you kept moving the black fabric up for him to follow your silent command and do as you wanted, his abs slightly flexing as you exposed him.

"When did you get so bulked up?" you curiously asked when you spotted the difference.

It was then when you realized the big toll routine had on you and your relationship, how you barely noticed the change in his body despite seeing each other almost every day.

"I've been working out a lot lately" he said, smiling nervously, watching your fingers run over his arms.

You could almost hear the pride in his tone as you touched his muscles.

Again, a pang of sadness showed up again across your brain as you realized how long it had been since you were that intimate with your boyfriend. You didn't even notice how toned he was becoming, you didn't even notice the progress as it was happening.

"I see" you chuckled, wrapping your fingers around his neck when you saw him placing himself between your legs.

He hummed and smiled as you wrapped your arms around him, his hands immediately going to your hips, gripping them and pulling you closer to him, his face in line with your neck. He nuzzled your throat, showering the skin there with light kisses.

His lips moved up to your jawline, placing small, slow kisses up your jaw, his hands grabbing your thighs and pulling you even closer, until your hips are rubbing against his again. The mere touching having you whispering in between kisses how bad you craved him, while his hands tightened their grip on your thighs at your words, your desire for him only fueling the lust and hunger for you inside him.

He attached his lips to your neck once more, gently sucking and biting the skin there while his hips rolled up as you grinded against him. The only thing that could ever stop him from devouring you was yourself, and that was exactly what happened.

He let out a soft hum as you touched his back, his hips rolling up against you again at the soft feeling of your fingers. When your digits hit his belt, a smirk played on his lips. "Do you want it off, baby?"

You nodded and you could feel his grip on your thighs loosening to give you space to move in front of him, able to drag your body down his from the counter. He watched you in awe, the movement already sending a wave of excitement through him. When looking down at you, his eyes took in every inch of your bare skin while he undid his belt buckle.

A thick groan left his lips when you played him while undressing him, your fingers barely touching his skin when taking off his dark jeans, earning him calling you a tease with a groan. Your boyfriend didn't hold back, holding your thighs to put you back against his body, the sudden move surprising you, but not letting you back off from teasing him "Yes, I'm a tease, and? You love it".

"Hmm yeah, I do. But I also love you being a good girl"

A smirk immediately plays on his lips as you weren't able to control your legs from pressing together. His hands moved down your body, caressing your bare skin. "Oh? Does someone like being called a good girl?"

It was something... new. It wasn't the type of chat you had while having sex.

He lifted your body once more, making you wrap your legs around him so you'd be steadily placed.

"Grind against me" he said in a deep tone, his hands gripping the small of your back more firmly, wanting to feel you closer.

You positioned yourself correctly enough to do what you were told, your hips almost meeting his, you could feel his hardened bulge, yet you didn't move an inch. "You want this?" you moved your hips down, rolling them for one second before moving them back up.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his patience even at the feeling of you rolling your hips for a second, his own self-control slowly slipping out of his grasp. He gripped your hips harder, wanting to feel you against him even more "Yeah, I want this. I want you. So move against me and be a good girl for me, baby"

Clearly, you weren't going to make it so easy for him.

You bit your lip, bending over until your lips were almost touching his ear "Use the right words".

He shivered involuntarily at your whispered sentence, your breath in his ear sending another wave of excitement through him, the need to be with you growing stronger "Please, baby. Let me feel you, just move against me. You know I'm a patient man, but this is making me lose my damn mind"

"So this" you grind your hips down, moving them back up again "is making you lose your head?"

He let out a low, almost guttural groan at the slow, calculated move of your hips, the friction created by your movements driving him insane "Yeah, you're making me lose my damn mind, baby. You know what you do to me".

You licked his upper lip, your hand holding his chin before you rolled your hips back down against his.

He moaned in consequence, feeling the way you rolled your hips again, his own hips involuntarily bucking up against yours. "Baby... that's it, just keep going like that. Just a little bit more" he held back the urge to take control of your body and just take you right there, trying to keep a bit of my composure.

Although that composure didn't last long, just enough for him to take you to your bedroom.

You didn't know how or when you ended up underneath him, his body trapping yours against the mattress while his lips ghosted over yours "We're done playing now" he assured you. The air was caught in your throat when he brushed his lips against your throat. "I fucking love the way you're all mine" he groaned. "Mine only, hmm? I'll destroy whoever tries to get between us".

You gulped thick when you heard him saying that, unsure if it was just the pleasure ruling him... because he was looking deadly serious.

"What?" he called you "You like knowing that you're all mine and mine alone? You like hearing how I'll do anything to keep you all to myself?"

In three years of relationship, it was the first time you heard Junghoon being so possessive of you. Yet you didn't hate it. Not at all.

He crawled on top of you, his body trapping you beneath him. His fingers skillfully undid the clasp of your bra with a swift motion as soon as his fingertips found it. Your back arched with need as you felt the fabric caressing your skin before disappearing, and it kept folding as his lips started making their way down your body. He paused for a moment to look up at you, his eyes darkened for all the right and wrong reasons as he admired the invisible path he made from your chest to the edge of your underwear.

He held your gaze for a moment, his eyes searching for a hint of suspicion or doubt, for any sign that could make him back down. But he found none, only desire and trust. His fingers hooked into your underwear and pulled them down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as he got you naked in front of him.

Jungkook moved back up your body, his hands trailing up your thighs as he went. He positioned himself between your legs, his lips finding your collarbone again, leaving a mark that would be difficult to hide, while his heart pounded hysterically against his chest. His desire for you and the guilt of his identity waging a silent war inside him.

But he chose to silent them.

He lifted your leg over his hip, pulling you even closer to him. His body pressed against yours, and the last remaining layers of fabric between you felt like an unbearable barrier. He nipped at your earlobe, his voice a low, demanding whisper "I fucking need you so bad".

"I need you, too"

The way your words echoed his, the way you sounded so out of breath... It all kept clouding his judgement. He knew those words were dedicated to someone else, he knew your body was craving Junghoon, but the thought of his touch exciting you like that only made him growl deep in his throat.

His lips reached the apex of your thighs as he started moving down, pausing for a moment as he looked up at you. Your face was flushed with desire, your eyes darkened with need. He took a moment to memorize the sight before he gave in completely to his desires. Giving you one last look, he bent enough to sink his mouth sensually among your folds, the contact making you hum in pleasure almost instantly.

He ran his tongue over you, savoring the taste of you in his mouth. Your body writhed beneath his touch, your moans and gasps filling the room.. the combination of it all causing his chest to puff with pride, while his tongue dived deeper in you to get a better taste. Jungkook lost himself in you, driven by the overwhelming need to make you his, to make everything he had always dreamed of a reality.

Your moans, the sight of you, your reaction to his touch... it all drove him crazy with a primal need to possess you, to make you his in every way he had thought of ever since Junghoon introduced you to the family. He delved deeper, his tongue exploring you with a fervor that bordered on desperate. Jungkook craved more of those sounds, those sensations, those reactions.

You almost couldn't recognize yourself. The passion, the way your boyfriend was giving himself to you, the way he was sinking his mouth in you as if he wanted to eat you whole and then eat you again. You swore he made you let out sounds you haven't heard on yourself ever before.

"Baby, I need you" you moaned, almost with a plea.

Your words, the need in your voice, the way your body responded to him -it was like fuel to the fire. He wanted -no, he needed- to give you what you were asking for.

Licking your clit one last time, he moved up your body, making sure he showered with kisses every centimeter on the way to your face. Jungkook positioned himself between your legs again, his eyes holding your gaze. His fingers brushed against you, teasing, but never quite giving you what you want. His voice was a low, almost desperate plea:

"Are you ready for me, baby?"

You dedicated him a soft smile, before you nodded and placed your hands on his shoulders "Always".

Your answer, the look on your face -it teared away the last shred of restraint he had. With one movement of his head, he motioned you to get a condom, which you reached effortlessly at the bedside table to hand it to him so he'd wrap himself on the latex. 

His lips claimed your mouth in a deep kiss, while his length slid into you with one movement, filling you completely. It was strange, but he felt like coming home, finally being where he belonged.

For a second, the guilt installed in his brain, reminding him of what he was doing, of the place he was taking over, but how quickly you pulled from his neck and how you linked your lips together worked to get him back to the only thing that mattered: you.

You broke the kiss, moaning when he started moving, a low giggle adorning the room and making Jungkook the weakest he had ever felt. "Fuck, you feel bigger".

He couldn't help but smirk at your words, the need to hear more, to make you feel even more driving him forward. He lifted your leg over his waist again, his lips finding your ear as he murmured: "Is that a good thing, baby? Does it feel good?"

"So fucking good" you closed your eyes, dropping your head back.

He didn't know how long he stayed moving while just looking at you, drinking up all of your reactions, memorizing every small detail on your face with every new wave of pleasure, or the way your nails digged on his skin whenever he angled his hips to reach the right spot. You were so hypnotizing and addictive.

He was done being a viewer, he was the main character of the most devoted love story to ever exist.

Hearing you moan like that, hearing how good he made you feel, pushed him even closer to the edge. Jungkook bit down on your shoulder, just enough to leave a mark, as he tried to hang on just a bit longer. He picked up the pace, driving into you deeper, harder, his eyes fixed on your face, ready for the smallest sign to give you everything you could ask for.

When you opened your eyes, you didn't recognize the dark look in your boyfriend's eyes as he crashed into you, his pace was relentless, like he had been deprived from touching you for years.

Your hands moved instantly to his wrists, trying to find some stability as your body kept bouncing harder against the mattress. Jungkook intertwined his fingers with yours, holding onto you as if he never wanted to let go. He could feel your body responding to his, and could see how close you were.

"Give it to me, baby. Give me everything you have" he asked softly, your hands moving to each side of your head as his body bent over to cover yours.

He held your gaze, he took care of your body, and he walked with you to your high to make sure you wouldn't miss a single beat. Until you both turned into one, your bodies being a mix of shivers and electricity.

Jungkook held you tight, only letting go of your hands to wrap his arms around you and sink his face on the curve of your neck to inhale your scent. You were so his that it physically hurted.

"That was..." you thought for a few seconds, trying to come up with a word "new".

Jungkook curiously moved back to look into your eyes "New? In a good sense?"

"Yeah... Yeah" you nodded, huffing a laugh "Different, in a good sense though. It's just that..." you started to explain, feeling a bit nervous "you're usually so soft and slow, and careful and delicate".

"Am I?" Jungkook lifted his eyebrow, trying to wonder if he allowed his own needs to take control of himself and risk getting exposed. "I just got carried away. I'm sorry if I hurted you".

"Hoon, I've been asking you to be a bit rougher for months" you chuckled "Why are you apologizing? I liked it" while speaking, you tilted your head, looking at him "Maybe we should get even freakier next time".

For a second, Jungkook's lip twitched at hearing his brother's name on your lips, but he recomposed quickly after, letting a smirk be drawn on his face.

"You felt like a completely different person" you chuckled "I liked it".

Jungkook pecked your lips quickly, trying to get rid of the idea that he was indeed a different person.

"Shall we get something for dinner?" he casually asked, hugging you tight in his arms. He stretched his legs lazily,moving his face down to look at you, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. "How about we order something for dinner? I'm starving."

You blinked, surprised. "Order something? You usually insist on cooking after..." you trailed off, cheeks warming.

He tilted his head, the playful grin never faltering. "Figured I'd give us both a break. Besides, my cooking could use a little variety."

Junghoon always prided himself on his cooking, especially after moments like these. It was his way of grounding himself, of caring for you. Still, you shrugged off the unease. He probably was just trying to be thoughtful in a different way.

"What are you in the mood for?" you asked, shifting to grab your phone.

"Anything but Chinese food," he replied quickly. Too quickly.

Your fingers paused mid-air. "But...you love Chinese food."

Jungkook stopped, trying to think of what to say to get away from his own mess.

He hesitated, barely perceptibly, before chuckling. "Right. I meant, I've had enough of it lately. Craving something else."

You nodded slowly, letting it slide, but a faint buzz of doubt lingered in the back of your mind. As you scrolled through the menu options, he got up, moving to his pants on the floor.

His movements were fluid, confident, but lacked the familiarity you'd always known. The way he grabbed the fabric and tossed it on: it wasn't the usual meticulous way Junghoon folded and set aside his clothes.

"Pizza?" he suggested, his voice easy, casual. "Something simple."

Your lips curved into a small smile despite the growing doubts. "Sure, pizza sounds good."

As you placed the order, you caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He was looking at you, but there was something in his eyes -a hunger, an intensity- that didn't belong to Junghoon. You shook your head, telling yourself it was all in your imagination.

After slipping into your clothes, the two of you left the room, the warm glow of the moment still lingering in the air. Junghoon walked beside you, his arm brushing yours occasionally as you both made your way to the living room.

"What time should the food get here?" he asked, glancing at you.

"About thirty minutes," you replied, checking the confirmation on your phone. "Plenty of time to relax."

Jungkook moved first, wrapping his arm around your waist to drag you with him over the couch, making sure both of you falled over it, your body almost over his lap, as he cuddled you tight. Something so simple as that had you instantly feeling better, instantly forgetting about any doubts or insecurities, vanishing that sense of unease and anxiety, to welcome comfort and love.

You didn't realize, but you started rubbing your cheek against his chest, while your hands held tight on his arms, your eyes closed while you allowed his scent fill your nostrils.

You were tired of being suspicious, and always ending on the worst of the conclusions, because small changes didn't always have to be for the worst.

If that was the first night of a new phase of your relationship, you'd gladly take it.

And something in him moved at your reaction. He was convinced he'd make you a million times happier than his brother ever did. It was as if the universe was telling him you were always meant to end up with him, because you molded together perfectly.

He, and only him, was everything you ever wanted, and he'd make sure he'd be the only thing you'd ever want. 

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister - pt.9

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8

wordcount: 2926

The sunlight streaming through the blinds was sharp and unforgiving, waking you far earlier than you wanted. You shifted under the covers, the events of the night before flashing through your mind. Your stomach churned—not from the alcohol, but from the weight of what had happened.

You glanced over at Lando, still asleep beside you, his chest rising and falling steadily. He looked peaceful, his hair a mess against the pillow, and for a brief moment, you let yourself feel the warmth of it. But then guilt crept in, tightening around your chest. What the hell had you done? 

Slipping out of bed as quietly as you could, you grabbed some clothes and padded out into the kitchen. Coffee first, then… you’d figure out how to handle this.

“Morning,” Lando’s voice startled you, and you turned to see him leaning against the doorway, hair tousled, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. He looked way too good to be feeling even half the hangover you were feeling. 

“Oh, hey,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I was just making coffee. Want some?”

“Sure,” he said, raising his eyebrows, his eyes lingering on you for a beat too long.

The silence stretched as you busied yourself with the coffee machine. He didn’t move closer, didn’t sit down. You knew he was waiting for you to say something.

“Last night…” you began.

“Yeah?” he prompted, quick to reply.

“It was…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’m sorry.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “Sorry?”

“It’s just…” You hesitated, the words tumbling out. “So much alcohol. And the break-up. I wasn’t—I don’t know. I’m just sorry.”

His expression flickered, something guarded settling in his eyes. “Right... Yeah, of course. I’m sorry too”

Before either of you could say more, there was a loud knock on the door.

“Thank God,” you muttered under your breath, heading to open it.

Max stood there, looking like death warmed over, his sunglasses pushed up into his messy hair, more like you were feeling.

“Kill me,” he groaned, brushing past you and collapsing onto the couch.

“Good morning to you too,” Lando said, handing him a bottle of water from the fridge.

“What did we do last night?” Max asked, his voice muffled by the pillow he’d shoved his face into.

Lando smirked. “You challenged a group of strangers to a dance-off. And lost.”

“Tragic,” Max mumbled. He lifted his head slightly, squinting at you both. “Anyway, what are we watching?”

Before you could protest, he was scrolling through the options on your streaming service, settling on an over-the-top action flick.

You exchanged a glance with Lando, who gave you a small, almost imperceptible shrug before sitting down on the couch.

Max patted the cushion beside him. “Come on, both of you. Misery loves company.”

As the movie played, with Max sitting between you and Lando, you occasionally glanced over to Lando, whose eyes were glued to the TV. Max made his usual sarcastic comments, keeping the atmosphere light. On the outside everything looked exactly the same, but even as you laughed along, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t quite the same.

- The following months were a strange blur—a whirlwind of processing the breakup, diving into work, and navigating race weekends. Of course, you still went to the races. Skipping them would have been unthinkable, far too weird. But it felt different. You had decided to keep some distance from Lando, convinced it was the right thing to do. Maybe for him, maybe for you. You didn’t expect him to do the same. It wasn’t overt enough for anyone else to notice. To the untrained eye, nothing had changed. You were still at every race, still part of the usual group settings. But the small moments—the ones that used to belong to just the two of you—those were gone.

No impromptu meet-ups in random cities. No late-night texts or phone calls that had nothing to do with racing. The unspoken routine you’d fallen into over the years had quietly unraveled, and no one else seemed to notice. Lando was having the season of his life, the world around him growing brighter and louder with every race. Media attention surged, fans swarmed, and with the success came a revolving door of new people. Girls. Even Magui made an appearance again.

It all looked perfectly normal from the outside—like you were just giving him space to focus, like his rising stardom left no room for anything else. But you knew better. You felt the distance that had never been there before, even if no one else could see it.

Max noticed, of course. He was the one person who would. “You and Lando good?” he had asked one evening, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

You’d brushed it off with a shrug. “Just don’t love this side of F1,” you’d said vaguely, which wasn’t entirely untrue. You didn’t press further, and to your relief, neither did he. He seemed satisfied enough, happy, in fact, to have more of your time to himself.

The awkward radio silence between Lando and you was interrupted by the buzz of your phone. His name flashed on the screen. Surprised you picked up the phone.

“Hey,” 

“Hey…” he replied, his voice a touch uncertain, like he wasn’t quite sure how to start.

There was a pause, and then he dove in. “Listen, I wanted to ask you something. I’m sorry to bother you with this—you can say no—but, um…” He hesitated, and you could almost hear him scratching the back of his neck through the phone.

“You know how I absolutely hated the FIA awards on my own last year?” he continued. “It was boring, long, and just... the worst. Thing is, you’re only allowed to bring a date, and I was wondering if you’d come with me. Reckoned you’d look better in photos than Max.”

A laugh slipped out before you could stop it. “So let me get this straight—this is an invite to a boring, long night that you hated? Wow, what a proposition.”

You heard his laugh on the other end of the line, warm and genuine. “Well, when you say it like that, it sounds terrible. But yeah, basically.”

“You owe me for this.” you agreed.

“Big time,” he said, you could hear his grin through the phone.

— 16 december 2025

The invitation to the FIA awards came with more than just a request for your company. It came with a trip—this year, the gala was being held in Cape Town, South Africa. When Lando explained the logistics over the phone, you weren’t sure what surprised you more: that the event was happening on another continent or that McLaren had arranged for the team’s private jet to take you there.

When you arrived at the airstrip, the sight of the sleek McLaren jet against the orange and purple hues of the evening sky made your chest tighten with nerves.

“Finally,” Lando said, a playful grin spreading across his face as he spotted you. He was already dressed casually, a bag slung over one shoulder. “Thought you were going to ditch me.”

“I considered it,” you said with a smirk, adjusting the strap of your own bag.

Oscar appeared next, giving you a quick nod and a grin. “Looking forward to this?”

“Not particularly,” you admitted.

“Good. Neither am I.”

When you were all settled in the jet, it felt familiar. Traveling together like always, the years of friendship taking over, diminishing the awkward last few months.

“Let’s play?” Oscar asked, shuffling a deck of cards. “Lando taught me that complicated game you guys always play.”

Your eyes lit up at the mention. “Oh, really? That’s nice—let’s do it.”

Oscar grinned. “I like it, but I always lose when I play with Lando.”

“Of course you do,” you said with a laugh. “He probably cheats. He always does.”

“I don’t” Lando protested, though the smirk on his face wasn’t exactly convincing.

Oscar narrowed his eyes, glancing at the cards, coming to the realization. “Yeah, sure. That’s what someone who cheats would say.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Trust me, we don’t even count his wins anymore. It’s just embarrassing at this point.”

“Unbelievable,” Lando muttered, feigning outrage as he dealt the cards.

-

Arriving at the hotel, it was as luxurious as you’d expected, with marble floors and floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city. Your rooms were adjacent, even though McLaren probably did the booking, it was a detail that shouldn’t have meant anything but somehow felt significant, having always shared rooms.

“You’ve got to see the view from my room,” Lando said, leaning against your doorframe with a grin.

“Maybe later, I’m sure it’s exactly the same, we gotta get ready” you replied, pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingered on you. 

-

The sound of a knock on your hotel room door pulled you from the mirror where you were applying the finishing touches to your makeup.

“Coming!” you called, carefully stepping into your heels before opening the door. Lando stood on the other side, already in his tuxedo, the bow tie slightly askew in a way that was annoyingly charming.

He opened his mouth to greet you, but the words caught in his throat as his eyes swept over your dress—a sleek black dress with a low back.

“You look… wow,” he finally managed, his voice lower than usual.

You felt your cheeks heat under his gaze. “Thanks. You look great too” He looked every bit the world champion he’d just become—poised, confident, yet still undeniably him.

“Yeah, but no one’s going to be looking at me tonight,” he said, his lips quirking into that familiar teasing smile. 

You rolled your eyes, trying to shake off the warmth. “Let’s go before you make us late.”

-

The ballroom was breathtaking. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting golden light onto the polished marble floor. Tables were adorned with elaborate centerpieces, and waiters weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne. It was a scene straight out of a fairytale, and for a moment, you felt like you didn’t belong.

Lando leaned closer as you both descended the grand staircase. “Forgot how glamorous this all is, didn’t you?”

“A little,” you admitted. “It’s easy to forget this is also your life.”

He grinned. “I’d trade this for a karting track any day.”

You both mingled, exchanging pleasantries with familiar faces. Zak Brown greeted you with a wide smile.

“Wow, look at you two,” Zak said, his tone teasing. “A proper power couple. Took you becoming world champion to finally get her as your date, huh?”

Lando’s cheeks turned pink, but he rolled with it. “Guess I had to up my game, huh?”

‘’Wow,” Max Verstappen said as he passed by, giving you an appraising look. “You look... different.”

“Thanks, Max,” you said dryly.

“No, I mean good,” he added quickly, looking mildly embarrassed. “Not like in the paddock, screaming your lungs out for McLaren.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Lando shot back with a grin. “She’ll still be screaming for McLaren tonight.”

-

The formalities of the evening dragged on, speeches blending into one another as awards were handed out. You tried to keep up, but your attention waned as the night wore on.

Lando leaned closer during one particularly dry speech, whispering, “See how I was dying on my own last year?”

You stifled a laugh. “You poor thing.”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan to make this bearable.”

It didn’t take long for you to discover his plan—a subtle drinking game he’d invented. Whenever the FIA would say how amazing the FIA is, you both took a sip of your drinks.

By the time the speeches ended, you were both giddy, the tension from the past few weeks melting into laughter.

-

As the night wore on, the drinking caught up with Lando. You were heading toward the restrooms when he groaned at the sight of the long men’s line, compared to an empty women’s, illustrative of the crowd at the event.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, glancing at the empty women’s restroom.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warned.

But before you could stop him, he ducked inside.

“So this is what the women’s bathroom is like,” he said, looking around with mock appreciation. “Fancy.”

“It’s not a sightseeing tour,” you said, exasperated. “Hurry up.” 

He darted into a stall, leaving you to shake your head in disbelief. When he emerged moments later, you were washing your hands at the sink.

Lando leaned against the counter, his playful grin softening as he caught your gaze in the mirror. “Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“What?” you asked, not entirely sure where this was going.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone sincere. “I mean, with... everything? Dylan. The break up. Us.”

You paused, drying your hands slowly. “Why do you always wait until we’re in a bathroom to have serious conversations?”

“Maybe I like the acoustics,” he said, his grin returning briefly before fading again. “Seriously, though. Are we okay?���

The question hung in the air, the tension between you almost tangible.

“I...” You hesitated, not entirely sure how to answer. “I think so. Are you?”

His gaze lingered on you, something unspoken passing between you before he nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”

It wasn’t a resolution, but it was enough for now.

-

As the night wore on, the drinks kept flowing. You and Lando drifted back toward the crowd, laughing and joking with Max, Oscar, and a few others.

At one point, Christian Horner walked by, offering a polite nod. As he passed, Lando’s hand casually patted your bum.

“Lando?!” you hissed in shock, your voice low but sharp.

“What?” he replied, feigning innocence.

“We’re in public!”

“So? Is that the only reason I’m not allowed to do that?” he teased, his eyes glinting mischievously.

You gave him a look, fighting the urge to smile.

-

The ride back to the hotel was a blur of laughter and lingering glances. The whole night together had forced some flashbacks from the previous night you spent together. Even though your mind had pushed it away, your body betrayed you, longing for the way it had felt—how good it had been.

You hesitated at your door, fumbling with the key card. Lando stood next to you, his hand resting lightly against the wall as he watched you.

“Goodnight,” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of everything unsaid.

But instead of moving to his door, Lando took a step closer, his voice low. “You’re just going to leave me alone after a night like that?”

You turned to face him, the air between you charged with tension. “We’ve had a lot of champagne, Lando.”

His lips quirked into a small, playful smile. “Exactly. Perfect excuse for bad decisions.”

You tried to suppress a laugh, but his easy confidence had already disarmed you.

“Come on,” he added, his voice dipping lower. “We’re both thinking it.”

Your heart raced as you opened your door, stepping inside without a word. Lando followed, letting the door click shut behind him.

The room felt warmer, the air heavier with anticipation. You kicked off your heels, the plush carpet soft under your feet as you turned to face him.

“Lando...” you began, but your voice faltered as he stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Tell me to go, and I will,” he murmured, his hand brushing lightly against your arm.

But you didn’t.

When he kissed you, it wasn’t rushed like last time. It was slow, deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every moment. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheekbones as he deepened the kiss. It was a contrast to the wildness of your last encounter—a quiet intensity that felt both overwhelming and grounding.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, the heat of his body seeping into yours. When his lips left yours, trailing down your jaw to your collarbone, your breath hitched, your fingers threading through his hair.

WN: This was a fun chapter to write!! Long one!! needed after the previous short one. My original story line has 10 chapters :((( But i think im going to continue it a bit longer, I love this story much and dont want to start a new story yet because I like this one too much. Excited to see a new interview of Lando, so cute how excited he talks about Quadrant, but am I the only one who questions his fashion choices sometimes?? The blazer quarter zip combo, I’m not sure. I don’t know why I’m so critical i love him and its not bad but idk hahaha.

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05@lex2205 @il0vereadingstuff @martygraciesversion381 @joannaln4 @obxstiles@chaoswithus@motorsportloverf1 @therovanperaastonmartini@acesofspadess @widow-cevans @irisesinthegarden@ncrsbrg @f1fantasys @norrisainz33 @mayax2o07 @ipushhimback @milkysoop @annimausi

[elryuse]

불장난 Playing With Fire

Yuna X Male Reader

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

Words : 8,557 Words

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

But fate has a cruel sense of humor.

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

It’s her. Yuna.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight, though, she crosses a line.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t—”

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

And just like that, you’re lost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sometimes," you admit. "Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A family. A future. With her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe, just maybe, you can make it work.

For now, that’s enough.

[v4mpvelocity]

HWANG IN-HO X READER NSFW HEADCANNONS

pairing: Hwang In-Ho X female reader

SMUT MDNI

A/N wrote this half asleep i just woke up from a nap XD

Hwang In-Ho, the man behind everything yet so good at deceiving you all. Presenting as a reliable friendly man, so naturally when you met him for the first time, it wasn't long until you took to him. His manipulative nature making it very easy to seem a friendly approachable person and not a man behind the mass murdering of struggling and vulnerable people.

Hwang In-Ho, the man who noticed you just as you noticed him, wishing you could have met under different circumstances. You had been put on a team with him during six legs, chosen to play gongii. Failing two times in a row, you began to panic, tears threatening to spill, hand shaking. In-ho or 'Young-Il' as he told you his name was placed a hand on your shoulder. His words seeming much more intimate than they were.

'Just focus.....thats it just breathe' or 'Just play as if this is normal circumstances, you've got this okay?'

Hwang In-Ho, the man who you owed your life to and the man who believed in you when you didn't even believe in yourself. Without hid encouragements, you and the rest of the team would have surely died. Your face plagues his mind, your youthful features contorted in a mix of fear and frustration. It made his cock twitch in his pants, you looked so adorable, scared for your life.

Hwang In-Ho, the man who manipulated you into seeing him as a figure of trust, coming to him when things went wrong, or you were bawling your eyes out wanting to go home. He swore he could've just dragged you to the bathroom and fucked your brains out when you revealed you were only 21, a whole two decades younger than him. That turned him on more than it should of.

Hwang In-Ho, the man who makes you believe he is the only one that you can trust, then has you taken to his private bedroom in the games. The announcement ‘player 267’ was eliminated echoed throughout the arena, he had faked your death all so he could have you all to himself.

Hwang In-ho, the man who has you face down ass up on the bed and he pounds into you at an animalistic pace, his hand on the back of your neck forcing your face into the mattress, muffling your whines and whimpers. The sound of skin on skin echoing throughout the room at a frenzied pace.

Hwang In-Ho, the man who strives to bring you to tears on his cock, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you as if it were his only life goal. Your overstimulated pussy clenching and twitching around his cock, a white ring of your release gathering at the base of his cock.

‘you gonna cum again honey? shh…shh yeah you can…just take it c’mon…let go’ or ‘you can take it…that’s it…cum on my fucking cock..goood girl’

Hwang In-Ho, the man who forces you to watch yourself fall apart in the reflection of the mirror. Your fucked our expression staring back at you, eyes hazy and half closed, tear stained cheeks and drool covering your chin. You looked pathetic, but In-Ho loved it. He loved the fact he had reduced you to a mess with just his body.

‘look at you…so fucking ruined for my cock hm? oh yeah…feels so good hm?’ or ‘watch yourself while i ruin this tight fucking pussy….fuck’

Hwang In-Ho, the man who claimed you and made you believe you were ruined anyone else, holding your fucked out body close as he pet your hair. A stark difference to how rough he had been with you just moments before. Soothing the damage he had caused with sweet words and soft touches. He’s the only one who can protect you, right?

‘this is where you belong ok? with me…only i can love you like this’ or ‘nobody can love you like i love you….okay honey?’

[linddzz]

Sat here and combed through all your jayvik analysis posts giggling and kicking my feet but PLEASE tell me more about the whole dom/sub thing, especially the whole “they have absolutely not discussed that this is the dynamic, it just happens and neither of them acknowledge it” because that is genuinely so interesting. Like I could already tell Viktor had hella ‘quiet calm collected dom’ vibes especially compared to jayce’s ‘excited protective puppy who would FOLD at being called a good boy’ energy…

But the whole bit on the bridge where Viktor smacks his hand away without even looking? And Jayce EARNS BACK TOUCHING PRIVELEGES? Fucking scrumptious please tell me more.

god i need to get to writing my fic bc I feel like "talk more about it" would be solved just by me dropping the link This ended up being TOO LONG so I split it between me going feral about that bridge scene and then me going feral at other moments of nonverbal communication that I use to feed my Dom/sub "oh you two are just LIKE THAT" interpretation. So. here's part one

That bridge scene tho...im so normal about it

hhhggg god that bridge scene is one that I rotate in my brain so much because it is such a small moment that makes so much of their dynamic click. For me, specifically, it clicks the "submissive like a guard dog is submissive" dynamic, where Jayce is, on a surface level, the stronger and more forceful of the two while Viktor is the one actually holding the leash (until he's too tired to because he's dying, and I only half joke when I say that their issues at the end of season 1 are because Jayce is suddenly the equivalent of a dog holding it's own leash and getting stressed out about it.

Jayce's touching before the bridge come across as pretty overbearing honestly. He's holding his hand out to keep Viktor from speaking out...

Heck, while the still screenshot doesn't show it too well, Jayce slings an arm around Viktor with enough force that it knocks Viktor off balance for a second and shoves him forward a little.

Viktor got dragged to the hexgate when Jayce is looking into shipping discrepancies happening there, even though it obviously doesn't involve him and he does NOT want to be there.

(In hindsight this is a hilarious bit of showing that it did not occur to either of them that there's no goddamn reason for Viktor to be here. This is council business, Jayce outright says "I'm a councilor now Viktor" which does not answer why tf Viktor needs to be there. these twits just handle all problems as a unit lmao. The tragic flip is that this is could then be a breaking moment when Viktor goes back to the lab, realizing that him and Jayce are not, in actuality, a single unit anymore. because Jayce got a second job that is not Lab With Viktor oh my god you codependent dweebs)

Up until that point it would be really easy to see Jayce as being presumptive and unintentionally overpowering Viktor in personality. Heck, it's what I thought the dynamic was as I was watching Season 1, though even as I thought that it seemed somehow...not quite correct.

And then the bridge scene.

Even before the hand-smack, there's a flip on the reading up to this point that Jayce has been accidentally bowling over Viktor by force of personality/physicality. Jayce comes in hot, upset, angrily standing over Viktor and chewing him out, and Viktor is just like "....and??"

Viktor is calm if baffled and annoyed at Jayce's frustration (also; Viktor just rolling his eyes and shaking his head at the actual riot happening a few yards away? hilarious. i love him.) His almost nonchalantly confused tone when he asks "what difference does that make?" always gets me. the entire back and forth says, to me anyway, that Jayce may be more brash and socially competent, but he's not overpowering Viktor at all, actually.

Viktor is going to do whatever the fuck Viktor wants.

This is immediately made clear by the much beloved hand smack. Viktor doesn't even look up, and his smack shows that he is perfectly capable of setting a hard boundary on Jayce's touching, and that Jayce will IMMEDIATELY fold and apologize when that boundary is set. That smack makes it suddenly clear that when Jayce goes for the shoulder touch right after apologizing, Viktor consciously allows it.

idk WHY but I also love this little tiniest moment when Jayce is going for the second touch. Viktor glances back as Jayce approaches him (looking like a cat with its ears pinned back lmao), then looks away as he accepts the second touch and they move on. It's such a tiny detail of showing Viktor, who is still pretty pissed at Jayce, seeing the touch as it comes in and then deciding to let it happen. im rotating them in my mind. please send help

In my framing of them being a guard dog/handler dynamic, the bridge scene is us seeing a moment of the leash getting a sudden sharp tug to bring the guard dog to heel. It resets all the earlier instances as being ones that Viktor allows to happen, because he doesn't see a need to correct it.

fuck man this doesn't even get into the bridge scene as a major crack between them as the moment Viktor loses his trust that Jayce will understand his decision. i am unwell

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she can date whoever she wants to, i don't care.

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James and you still aren't on talking terms, he avoids you, never gets too close to you, yet complains to everyone when he sees you get close to your new charms partner.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r is a gryffindor lol, this is lowkey super short… 2.1k words, the next chapter will be better...trust

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It had been weeks. Weeks since James had last spoken to you, the last time you had talked was in december, now you're almost two weeks into february, and the rift between you only seemed to grow wider. At first, he told himself he was giving you space. He thought that if he stayed back, you’d eventually come to him, and things would go back to normal. But that wasn’t what happened.

Every time James worked up the courage to approach you, it was the same thing: you were with him.

Finn Laurier.

James hated how the name left a sour taste in his mouth. Finn wasn’t a bad guy—he was charming, clever, and polite. Too polite, in James’s opinion. Finn Laurier was completely different from James, and that only made the knot of insecurity and jealousy in James’s chest tighten.

While James was loud and brash, Finn had an easygoing, quiet confidence about him. Where James was all about grand gestures and bold declarations, Finn had a knack for subtlety and knowing the right thing to say at the right time. It didn’t help that Finn had somehow managed to claim the spot James had always held at your side, and you didn’t seem to mind.

From across the common room, James watched as Finn leaned in closer to you, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. You laughed at something he said, the sound tugging at James’s heart in a way that made him feel like an idiot.

He slumped back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “What does she even see in him?” he muttered under his breath.

Sirius, sprawled out beside him, didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “You mean aside from the fact that he’s good-looking, smart, and doesn’t look like he’s been moping for weeks?”

James glared at him. “I’m not moping.”

“Sure, you’re not,” Sirius drawled. “That’s why you’ve been staring at them for the past ten minutes like you’re about to hex him.”

“I’m not going to hex him,” James grumbled. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s very mature of you, Prongs,” Remus chimed in from his corner, not looking up from his book. “But maybe instead of glaring at him, you should focus on fixing things with her.”

“Yeah, because that’s gone so well for me so far,” James shot back bitterly.

“Have you even tried?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.

James opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. The truth was, he had tried—at least, he thought he had. But every time he saw you, Finn was there, making you laugh, leaning just a little too close. And every time, James felt like his chances were slipping further and further away.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to ignore the knot of confusion and hurt that James’s behavior had left behind. You weren’t blind to the way he’d been avoiding you, or how he seemed to retreat every time you so much as glanced in his direction.

Finn had been a welcome distraction. He was kind, easy to talk to, and, most importantly, he didn’t make you feel like you’d done something wrong. But even as you laughed at his jokes and listened to his stories, you couldn’t shake the feeling of James’s eyes on you from across the room.

“Everything okay?” Finn asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet all of a sudden,” Finn said, tilting his head slightly. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you said quickly, offering him a small smile. “I just… I guess I’m a little distracted.”

Finn nodded, his expression understanding. “Fair enough. If you ever want to talk about it…”

“Thanks, Finn,” you said softly, though your gaze drifted back toward James.

He was still sitting on the couch with Sirius, looking like he was caught between frustration and defeat. When your eyes met for the briefest of moments, he quickly looked away, running a hand through his already messy hair.

You sighed, your chest tightening. Whatever had happened between you and James, it felt bigger than anything you could fix with a simple conversation. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle this silent stalemate.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It was now James’s second least favorite day—Valentine’s Day. His least favorite day was still the one he’d sat in Charms class and watched you laugh with Finn Laurier for the first time. That moment had burned itself into his memory, playing on a cruel loop every time he closed his eyes.

But this… this was a close second.

If you had told James back in December that he’d be avoiding you on Valentine’s Day instead of spending it as a happy, loved-up couple, he would have called you mad. Back then, he’d been so sure of himself. So sure that his letter, his heartfelt, trembling confession, would be the thing that finally made you see him as more than just James Potter, your goofy best friend.

And yet, here he was, slouched in a chair in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by heart-shaped confetti that refused to disappear no matter how many times he swatted it away. The house elves had really outdone themselves this year—floating cupid decorations zipped around the room, shooting glittering pink arrows into the air. James glared at one that came a little too close, muttering something about “bloody overkill.”

“I hate this,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking lower into his chair.

“Well, don’t be sulking for the whole day,” Sirius said, perched on the arm of the couch nearby. His tone was a mix of amusement and exasperation, his gray eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’re all supposed to go to The Three Broomsticks soon, remember?”

James let out another unintelligible grumble, something that sounded suspiciously like “don’t want to,” though the exact words were lost in his sulk.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Come on, mate, this is getting ridiculous. You’ve been moping around for weeks.”

“I’m not moping,” James shot back, though the words lacked any real conviction.

“You’re literally the definition of moping,” Sirius said, smirking. “You’re sitting here, arms crossed, glaring at a cupid like it personally insulted your family.”

“I don’t want to go to The Three Broomsticks,” James muttered.

“And why not?” Sirius pressed, though James could tell from his tone that he already knew the answer.

James sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Because she might be there,” he admitted quietly.

“She, as in you-know-who?” Sirius teased, though his smirk softened slightly when he saw the genuine frustration on James’s face. “Look, Prongs, you can’t avoid her forever. It’s a small castle. You’re bound to run into her eventually.”

“I know that,” James said, his voice tight. “But I just… I can’t deal with seeing her with him today, alright? Not on bloody Valentine’s Day.”

Sirius leaned back, crossing his arms. “You’re assuming she’s spending the day with Finn, but has she actually told you that?”

James hesitated. “No,” he admitted reluctantly. “But why wouldn’t she? He’s—he’s Finn Laurier, for Merlin’s sake. He’s perfect. Why wouldn’t she spend Valentine’s Day with him?”

“You’re an idiot,” Sirius said matter-of-factly.

James blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Sirius said, standing up and stretching, “that instead of sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, you could actually try talking to her. Maybe, just maybe, things aren’t as hopeless as you think.”

James stared at him, his heart hammering in his chest. The idea of approaching you now, after everything, felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. But Sirius’s words planted a small, stubborn seed of hope in his mind.

“Fine,” James muttered, standing up. “But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m hexing you.”

Sirius grinned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As James followed Sirius out of the common room, his mind raced with a hundred different scenarios. He wasn’t sure what he’d say if he saw you—or if he even had the courage to say anything at all. But one thing was certain: he couldn’t keep hiding forever. But it looks like the odds were not in his favor–he felt like his world was crumbling. He knew he shouldn't have listened to Sirius, it just made things worse. You had said yes to being Finn’s valentine–and worst of all, who asks a girl out on valentine's day?

James scoffed, his sadness shifting into a simmering anger. He quickly left the scene, Sirius trailed behind him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace.

“Slow down, Prongs!” Sirius called.

James didn’t respond, only slowing when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. He paused there, allowing Sirius to catch up before muttering the password under his breath. As the portrait swung open, James turned to his friend with a scowl.

“I’m never listening to you again.”

“Oh, come on,” Sirius protested, throwing up his hands. “How was I supposed to know Laurier would swoop in right then and there?”

Inside the common room, Remus and Peter exchanged curious glances.

“What happened?” Remus asked, his tone cautious.

“She was right there,” James burst out, his voice rising with frustration. “And so was Laurier. He asked her out! They didn’t even see me—or Sirius, thankfully—but still!” He threw himself into an armchair, running a hand through his already messy hair.

The others stayed silent, unsure how to comfort him.

After an awkward three minutes, Peter cleared his throat and attempted to lighten the mood. “Why don’t we head to the Three Broomsticks? A bit of butterbeer might help take your mind off things.”

For a moment, James said nothing. Then, as if possessed by some newfound resolve, he stood abruptly.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said, surprising everyone. “If she can be completely unbothered after I confessed my undying love for her, then ignore me, and worst of all—start dating some tosser who’s the polar opposite of me—then fine. I’ll move on too. Starting now. Let’s go.”

The other Marauders stared at him, dumbfounded. This wasn’t the James they knew—the James who would spend hours pestering Sirius about why you hadn’t replied to his letters, the James who badgered Remus for details about your every interaction, the James who constantly begged Peter for updates about you in the classes you shared.

It was as if the James Potter they knew had been replaced by someone else entirely.

The streets of Hogsmeade were blanketed with snow, the cold biting at their cheeks as the Marauders made their way to the Three Broomsticks. James led the group, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his jaw set tight. He was unusually quiet, his normal easy going demeanor replaced with something sharper, more defensive.

Sirius tried to break the silence first. “Prongs, mate, you know she didn’t do it to hurt you, right? She probably didn’t even know how you felt.”

James let out a sharp laugh, his breath clouding in the cold air. “She didn’t know? Oh, she knew. I wrote her a bloody letter, Padfoot. I poured my heart out. If she didn’t get the hint, then she’s thicker than I thought—and she’s not thick.”

Sirius grimaced, clearly regretting his choice of words. “Alright, alright, bad point. But still, Laurier? The guy’s got the personality of a Flobberworm.”

“Doesn’t matter,” James muttered. “Apparently, she likes Flobberworms.”

Peter, trying to ease the tension, piped up, “Well, maybe Laurier’s just a rebound, you know? She’ll realize what a tosser he is soon enough.”

Remus shot Peter a warning look, but James seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice.

“Rebound from what?” James muttered. “She’s never been with anyone to rebound from.”

They reached the Three Broomsticks, the warm glow from inside spilling out onto the snow-covered street. The group filed in, quickly finding a table in the back corner. The usual bustling energy of the pub seemed muted to James, his mind too occupied with replaying the moment he’d seen you say yes to Finn Laurier.

A round of butterbeers arrived at the table, and Sirius pushed a tankard in front of James. “Alright, here’s the plan,” Sirius said, leaning forward. “We’re going to have a laugh, you’re going to forget about Laurier, and tomorrow, you’ll go back to being your annoying, charming self. Sounds good?”

James took a long sip of his butterbeer, the warm liquid doing little to ease the ache in his chest. “Yeah, sure. Forget about her. Easy.”

“James,” Remus said gently, “it’s okay to be upset. You don’t have to act like it doesn’t bother you.”

“I’m not acting,” James snapped, though his tone softened almost immediately. “I’m fine. Really.”

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus, both of them unconvinced.

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[eufezco]

TOLERATE IT 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

oldman!logan x fem!reader

synopsis – the struggles with the growing distance between you and logan and holding on to a man who has already let go.

a/n – kinda inspired by tolerate it by taylor swift.

angst.

logan was late again, though you’d stopped watching the clock weeks ago. time became meaningless when each hour felt like a reminder of how far apart the two of you had grown. he was late and you thought you preferred it this way, because when he was home, it was worse.

when he was home, he didn’t look at you, like you weren’t even there. he didn’t talk to you, offering only brief replies or silence. the man who once made you feel seen, known, and loved was now a shadow. at least when he was gone, you didn’t have to feel the sting of being invisible in your own home.

the sound of the front door opening startled you from your thoughts.

you'd been cooking dinner for him, if you stayed busy, maybe you could ignore the ache in your chest, the endless questions you no longer dared to ask. his heavy steps echoed down the hall, the unmistakable smell of alcohol followed him into the room like an unwelcome guest.

you turned toward the hall, his eyes, bloodshot, avoided yours.

—hey, —you said softly, your voice tentative.

he didn’t answer, just grunted as he moved past you and toward the chair where he always dropped his jacket.

—i've cooked you dinner, —you tried again, forcing a smile.

—not hungry.

the smile disapeared , your lips trembling slightly as you looked at him. —logan, you’ve barely eaten anything lately, —you said, your voice quieter.

—i said i’m not hungry, —he repeated, the irritation in his voice unmistakable. he didn’t even turn to face you, his focus already on loosening his tie.

you stood there for a moment, clutching the edge of the plate, so hard that you thought it would break under your fingers. the meal you’d poured so much effort into, the carefully laid table—it all felt pointless, like shouting into a void. you opened your mouth to respond, to say anything but your eyes caught on the smudge of red on the collar of his shirt. the words died on your lips, and your stomach twisted as realization hit. lipstick.

—logan? —you said, barely above a whisper.

he followed your line of sight, his expression hardening when he saw what had caught your attention. —don’t start, —he said, his voice low and warning.

—don’t start? —you repeated in disbelief. —logan, there’s lipstick on your collar. you—

—i don’t want to do this right now, —he interrupted, his voice rising slightly, frustration etched into every word.

—but... —you tried again. then you noticed how his hair was more disheveled than usual, how some buttons on his shirt were undone. ever since things started to go wrong with logan, you always had a sneaking suspicion that he was seeing other women. most of the times you didn't say anything, not because you didn’t care, but because the thought of confronting him felt more terrifying than the suspicion itself. you had convinced yourself that if this was the price you had to pay to keep him by your side, you would pay it.

but when you confronted him, he’d deny it—nothing was going on. you wanted to believe him, you tried to believe him. but you knew that something was off. there were things you couldn’t ignore and that he didn't care enough to hide, like the way he would smell different when he came home some nights—like someone else’s perfume clung to his shirt.

—i came from work fucking tired and you are trying to start a fight! these things—these things you do are what makes it so goddamn exhausting to be near you.

you didn’t just drop the plate on the floor, you smashed it. the plate carefully prepared, a gesture of love but now, just like everything else, it was broken beyond repair. without thinking, you stepped forward, closing the space between you and him, your breath coming hard and fast, your fist tight with anger.

his expression was unreadable at first, a flicker of annoyance clouding his features, but beneath it, there was something else—something like intrigue, as if he was daring you to keep going, to show him just how much he had hurt you. your pressed your finger against his chest, steady and defying.

—you don’t deserve a fucking thing I gave you, —you spat, your voice laced with fury that you had been keeping to yourself for far too long. his lips parted as if to say something, but you didn’t give him the chance. —what a shame that this mutation of yours is taking so long to kill you and that i have to be the one to suffer all the shit you are rotting in.

silence settled between you after those words. for a few seconds, you both just stood there, locked in each other’s gaze. his eyes were hard, unreadable, and you couldn't see anything shifting. no sign of regret, no sign of guilt.

—are you done? —he said finally, his tone flat, almost bored, as if your pain was just another inconvenience in his already exhausting day.

you made your way to the bedroom. as you passed him, you bumped your shoulder against his and logan closed his eyes and shook his head. you didn't let the tears fall from your eyes just yet. you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

you collapsed in your shared bed. the sheets smelled faintly of him, even though it had been weeks since the last time he slept there, a cruel reminder of the distance between you. the sobs broke free, quiet and muffled at first, but then louder.

and he heard you from the living room.

you knew he did and you waited, even as your tears soaked the pillow, hoping—praying—that you’d hear the sound of his footsteps approaching. that he’d walk through the door, sit on the edge of the bed, and pull you into his arms like he used to. that he’d say something—anything—to let you know he still cared, still saw you.

but he didn't come.

instead, you heard the clink of his whiskey glass, the quiet sound of him trying to drown out the reality with alcohol. his attempts to ignore the sound of your sobs failed. but still, logan didn’t move.

the tears eventually took over and you fell asleep.

logan picked up the shattered pieces of the plate from the floor and then went into your room. you felt his arm slide across your back, pulling you closer to him, the warmth of his skin too familiar, too intimate, but it felt wrong now, like a cruel mockery of what it used to be. you whined and tried to push his arm away, your body tensed, trying not to surrender to the moment, and shook, trying to make it clear that you didn’t want him to touch you.

—don’t, —you muttered, still half asleep. —don’t touch me.

yet he could feel how it instinctively molded to his. your body remembered him, the way you used to fit together.

—quit it, —logan said, his voice low and rough. his arm tightened around you, firmly, to keep you from pulling away. then, just as quickly, his hold softened, arms relaxing as they hugged you.

he stayed there all night, his arm around you, holding you close in a way that felt almost natural. for the first time in what felt like forever, his breathing steadied, the weight of exhaustion pulling him into a deep sleep. you relaxed into his embrace but when you woke up the next morning, the bed felt cold. you turned, reaching out instinctively and the space where he had been was empty.

he was gone. but it wasn't surprising, not really. you should've known that he wouldn’t stay. he had always been a man who left—left conversations unfinished, left wounds unhealed, left you in pieces. what was truly surprising, more than his absence now, was the fact that he had been ever there at all.

[themultifanshipper]

Hi! I love your fics sm

Please don't feel obliged if this makes you uncomfortable, but I was wondering if you wouldn't mind writing something where reader has vaginismus and the driver is so sweet about it :3

For Max or Oscar (but I don't really mind any of them tbh)

Max was the best boyfriend anyone could ask for. He was incredibly patient and understanding. Frustratingly so. 

Warnings: smut, talk about vaginismus, oral, fingering, improper medical procedures 

Disclaimer: people with vaginismus have different experiences with the condition, this fic is vaguely based on a friend of mine's experience, do NOT do what is described in this fic, if you are seeking treatment then talk to a doctor because this is NOT the proper treatment method IT IS FICTION… that being said, enjoy the filth. 

You'd been scared to tell Max about your condition at first. 

All your other relationships had fizzled out because the guys were either too impatient or annoyed, or disgusted with you. 

Which is why you expected Max to be the same. But you couldn't have been more wrong. 

You sat him down one day, texting him beforehand to warn him that you had something serious to talk to him about. 

He tapped his fingers on the table while you made some coffee. 

Once the steaming mugs were in front of you, you just came out with it. 

“I have a condition, called Vaginismus” 

Max just blinked, which made you smile at his clueless face. 

“Do you know what that is?” you asked. 

“Uhh… no” he scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. He didn't like not knowing things. 

“That's okay. It's quite rare. It's a condition that makes sex painful, or at least difficult if it’s not treated properly” 

He nodded. 

“And basically it's an involuntary response to penetration. The muscles contract and it can be painful…” 

His brows furrowed. 

“So how do you… do you have sex?” 

You huffed out a laugh. “Well not since we've been together, but yes I have had sex before, but most of the time it didn't work” 

He blushed. “And have you  tried, you know… treatments?” 

You took a sip of coffee before answering. 

“I started. Sometimes it works, but it takes time and effort.” 

 “Okay…” he muttered. “So it's just penetration that is painful?” 

You nodded. 

“So I can eat you out?” 

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“I- yes. Yes, I suppose you can.” 

He got up and walked over to you and held out his hand. 

“What, now?” you asked incredulously. 

He shrugged. 

“Unless you don't want to?” 

You were taken aback by his attitude. 

“That's it? You don't want to know more? You're not… disgusted?” 

He stroked your cheek with his thumb. 

“Why would I be disgusted. It's not like you can control it. As long as you are happy, I am happy. And if you want to try treatments, that's up to you. I'm not going to force you. I have a fully functioning hand, and as long as I can bring you pleasure in other ways, I'm good” 

Tears sprung to your eyes and he melted, getting down on his knees and stroking your thighs. 

“What is it? Did I say something wrong?” 

You shook your head. “You're the first man to not react badly. You really are the one” 

He blushed even darker at that. 

“Well let's see if I can make you come with my mouth, then you can decide” 

It was your turn to blush. He led you to the bedroom and lay you down on the bed, dragging your clothes off and admiring your body. 

“Fucking perfect. Can't wait to devour you” 

You scoffed at his cliché choice of words and he smirked. 

He spread your legs, licking his lips as he gazed at your already glistening cunt. It was all his, and he was going to prove to you he was worth it. 

He licked a stripe up your folds and you shivered. 

His eyes were on yours the whole time, studying your reactions, every twitch of your hips for any indication that he was doing a good job. 

He brought his hand up to thumb at your clit lazily while he took a quick breather. 

“Wait, I can't finger you can I?” 

You blinked at him. 

“Uhh… not at the moment, no” 

He nodded, taking it in his stride. “What about my tongue?” 

You groaned and he smirked up at you, proud that he was getting you this flustered already.

“Yes, your tongue should be fine” 

He dove back in gleefully, happy to have new information. 

You felt his tongue prod at your entrance and you gasped. 

He mistook that for discomfort so he retreated. 

"No” you begged, your hands going to thread in his hair to hold him there. “Keep going, it feels good” 

Max hummed and continued, pushing his tongue further inside you, and his nose bumped your clit every time.

He quickly figured out how to use that to his advantage, and he rubbed it against your clit with purpose every time he pushed his tongue inside you. 

You took an embarrassingly short time to come after that. 

Once Max had figured out the fastest way to make you come, it became a daily ritual. 

And the absolute sweetheart was doing as much research as he could to understand your condition, and how to treat it. 

He didn’t push you though. If you wanted to seek treatment that was your business.  

So he waited, and was perfectly happy to eat you out every day for the rest of his life if that's what was required of him. 

But a few weeks later you sat him down again. This time on the couch, and you were next to him with your legs over his lap as you chatted. 

“So I have some news…” you were looking at him with a shy smile, almost looking guilty about something. 

When you didn't elaborate he tried to diffuse the tension. 

“Well I know for a fact you're not pregnant. Unless you found another way to get my sperm and babytrap me”  

You slapped his chest and giggled. 

“No, Max. Although that is a great idea, thanks for the suggestion.” 

He laughed and leaned his head on the back of the sofa. 

“What I wanted to tell you is that I think I'm ready for the next step.” 

He frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, up until now my condition has been mostly situational. A stress response, and sex has always stressed me out, for obvious reasons.” 

His hand was stroking your leg soothingly, which encouraged you to carry on. 

“I've been working on this since we got together. And I feel very at ease when I'm with you. And when I'm not with you…” you blushed and looked at your hands, suddenly shy. 

“Hey. Tell me. What about when I'm not here?” 

You looked up at him. 

“I've been fingering myself” 

You bit your lip, waiting for his response but he just stared at you. 

“You-" you could tell he was picturing it, although his expression remained mostly blank. “Okay…” 

“So really you're supposed to get these dilators, right? But I figured, fingers do the exact same job, and they're free. So I started out with one. And you're supposed to do it for like 20 minutes a day or something. And it has to be snug but not tight or painful, and when it feels fine you move up a size. So I'm now up to two fingers, which is fine, so I need a size up, but three fingers is way too much so I'd need someone with bigger fingers than me…” 

Max blinked. 

“You see where I'm going with this?” you asked encouragingly. 

“No?” Max was lost. All he could picture was you sticking your fingers up yourself for 20 minutes a day while he was out. 

You sighed. “Your two fingers are bigger than my two fingers, but smaller than three. So… I need you to finger me” 

Max just blinked again. 

It took most of your willpower to not slap him 

“Stop fucking blinking and say something” 

“I… are you sure it's safe? I mean you're supposed to do it with like proper equipment and-” 

“Max I swear to god if you start Maxplaining my own treatment to me I am going to lose it” 

He promptly shut up. 

“So we are going to go into the bedroom, and you are going to stick your fingers in me for twenty minutes. Can you do that?” you batted your eyelashes at him. 

“Yes” he rasped, and you giggled at him before leading him over to the bedroom. 

He lubed up his fingers, sliding one in to test the waters, and see your reaction. 

You nodded at him and he slipped the second one in. 

You immediately felt the difference with your own. 

It was a stretch, but not painful whatsoever.

And Max was already hard in his pants. 

This wasn't about him though, this was a medical procedure to help you out, nothing more. 

He knew what to do. 

He moved his fingers gently in circles, just like he'd read about on all those forums, towards the front, the back and to the sides. 

You looked at him in awe. 

“Max… how do you know what you're supposed to do?” 

He smiled gleefully at you. “I've done a lot of research” 

You melted into the bed, doing your breathing exercises as he continued to stretch you out. 

Your alarm rang when the twenty minutes were up, and you were almost disappointed. 

Despite it not being sexual in nature, you kind of liked being this close to your boyfriend. 

It felt very intimate. 

You did the same thing four days in a row, and it became a routine for Max, because every time it was over, he ate you out, and then you gave him a blowjob. 

Which is why when you told him you were moving up to three of your fingers and didn't need him for the next few days, he honestly felt like you'd put him on a sex ban. 

But when you explained to him that that just meant you didn't need him for the medical part, but he could still put two fingers inside you while he ate you out, his spirits were lifted instantly. 

A week later, it was time for three of his fingers, and that was a real stretch. 

It wasn't painful, but as soon as the third slipped in, you felt full. 

Your breathy gasp alerted Max. 

“All okay?” 

You nodded. 

“More than okay… I feel so… full.” 

Max twitched in his pants. 

“I suppose that's normal… my fingers are pretty big” 

You hummed and Max started the usual exercise. 

Except this time, it felt different. It felt almost… pleasurable. 

As it went on, Max noticed you were getting progressively wetter.  

After about 5 minutes of trying to hold in your noises, you let out the tiniest whimper. 

Max stopped his movements and you let out a soft whine. 

Max raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Did that feel good?” 

You huffed “Too good. I think you're gonna make me come like that if you carry on for much longer.” 

Max bit his lip. “I suppose that's good. It means you're relaxed” 

He continued the slow circles and you let out a shaky exhale.  

“Don't keep your noises in” he piped up. “It will just make you tense up. Let them out” 

You couldn't go on like this, it felt too good to not take advantage of it.

You glanced at your phone. 

12 minutes left. 

“Max, if you can make me come just like this in the next twelve minutes I'll let you come on my tits” 

Well with an offer like that how could he possibly refuse. 

“Can I use my mouth as well?” 

You looked at the time again. 11 minutes 37 seconds… 

“I suppose” 

His tongue ghosted over your clit as his fingers moved in their usual slow circles. 

You moaned and he smirked. 

Some medical procedure this was shaping up to be. 

He crooked his fingers upwards just the slightest bit, and the noise you let out was confirmation that he wouldn't need the full 11 minutes. 

You came with 7 minutes left on the timer. 

And you were so relaxed he swore he could have slipped a fourth finger in, but he didn't. That would be abusing your trust, and he was determined to be patient and see this through to the end. 

After another couple of weeks you deemed yourself finally ready. You'd done 4 of your own fingers, then 4 of his larger fingers. And you came every single time. 

And Max had bought you a small-ish dildo to make properly sure you were ready. 

He was away for a race weekend when you used it, but you sent him plenty of proof that you could take it easily, and he was very grateful. 

When he got back, you had a candle lit dinner, wine and all, before he took you to bed. 

You were eternally grateful to Max for sticking this out with you, it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for you, even if it did just involve sticking fingers inside you. 

When Max finally lined himself up with your entrance, he was so nervous he felt like a virgin again. 

When he pushed in it was like the stars had aligned. Everything just felt right.

You had tears in your eyes (of happiness) and you pulled him down for a passionate kiss. 

He rolled his hips and you moaned into each other's mouths at the incredible feeling of finally being joined like this. 

Max lasted about 3 minutes he was so excited. Bless him. 

But he made up for it in the best way. 

He proposed, that night, while you both sat on the balcony in the warm Monaco air as the lights of the harbour twinkled below you. 

Yeah, he was the one. 

[gumisbwunni]

Satoru is soooo friends to lover

tysm for the support, i want to start writing other characters so lmk who i should write! ps. ignore any typos :/

───────────୨ৎ───────────

just think about it, that disgusting slow burn, like as you gradually grow with him. he knows you like the back of hand, he knows you.

he knows when youre upset, or when youre uncomfortable because you bite the inside of your cheek, and your eyebrows slightly furrow.

and he knows when he should step up and back down. He'll let you have your space if you ask for it but he also knows you need someone to lean on, and if thats hititng his chest angrily, crying on his shoulder, ranting your ass off, hell be there.

Satoru took a liking to you because, for once in his life, someone saw him. Not the prodigy, not the heir to the Gojo legacy—just Satoru, your best friend.

you never treated him any differently, even when everyone else put him on a pedestal. You were the one person who kept him grounded, and he didn’t even realize when he started falling for you.

maybe it was the way you’d laugh at his stupid jokes, or the way you’d roll your eyes at his antics but still always have his back. Maybe it was the way you challenged him, called him out when no one else dared to. Or maybe it was just… you.

and how could you not fall for him, too? He’s Satoru, your best friend who defends you no matter what, who lets you see parts of him no one else does. The one who’d do anything for you—even if you told him to jump off a cliff, he’d probably ask, “How high?”

but there’s always been this line between you, this unspoken agreement to keep things platonic. Until… it starts to crack.

it starts with the little things—like the way his jaw tightens when you talk about your dates, or how he goes suspiciously quiet when you get dolled up for some guy he already knows is a waste of your time. He hates seeing you walk out the door, knowing the night will only end with you disappointed yet again.

and when you come storming back, heels in hand, muttering, “You would not believe the nerve this guy had,” Gojo’s sitting on the couch, grinning like he knew it all along. Of course he did. The guy probably asked to split the bill or talked about himself the whole night. Gojo always hated the way these guys never saw you the way he did.

because if you were on a date with him, you wouldn’t need to bring a purse. He wouldn’t even let you think about paying. He’d take care of everything, because he’s just that guy.

but he knows he can’t—he shouldn’t. It’s a line he’s not supposed to cross, no matter how badly he wants to.

and yet… he catches himself thinking about the way your eyes light up when you look at him. Those big, doe eyes that make his heart stutter in his chest.

he hates when you’re mad at him, but at the same time, you look so cute when you’re all fired up that he can’t help but push your buttons, just to see you pout.

he'll beg for your forgiveness afterward, of course, but there’s a part of him that loves how your attention is all on him, even if it’s because you’re annoyed.

his feelings are a fragile balance, always sitting just at the edge of his tongue.

it only took one moment—one crack—and it all spilled out. He told you everything. How much you mean to him, how the thought of a life without you is unbearable.

and now that you’re officially his girlfriend, it’s like a dam has broken. He wants to spend every waking moment with you, like he needs you to fill his lungs, his thoughts, his everything. He needs you bad.

and, it’s no surprise to anyone—not Shoko, not Geto, not Nanami. They all saw it coming from a mile away. Everyone knew. Everyone but you.

[nevadancitizen]

-> ROT IN PUREST GOLD

synopsis: you've been skipping through universes ever since you touched the source of the hexgates. through everything, you've never stopped searching for your viktor -- now, you've found him, and you just want to go home.

word count: 2.7k

ships: viktor/reader

tags: angst with a happy ending, fluff and angst, pre-established relationship

notes: inspired by purest gold by miracle of sound. and this is my first shot at writing viktor.. lmk if i got anything wrong ^_^

It’s been years since you saw Viktor. Many years – artificial years. Years spent close, away, at a distance but still observing. But they were never your Viktor. 

Viktor with the accented voice and the long face. Viktor with the work ethic of a hive of worker honeybees, tireless and continuous. Viktor with the eyes of pure gold – never pyrite or brass with a yellow twinge. He’s always been made of the purest gold.

None of them ever could’ve replaced him. With all these alternate universes you were hopping between, you met plenty of Viktors. Some came close, but none replaced him. It wasn’t their faults; they couldn’t compete with a memory. 

You were a variable, too, so you couldn’t blame them completely. You went by different names, had different stories. Anything to make this depressing, grueling trudge through many lives more tolerable. 

Some things made things less annoying, like cars. (Well, sometimes. Sometimes they were a nuisance.) Cars are one of the things you think your Viktor would’ve liked to study. To take apart, to put back together, to modify and make better. You could see him becoming a real torque dork while listening to Speedfreaks FM. 

Mostly because that’s what he insists on listening to when you drive him to his doctor’s appointments – both of which you’re doing right now. Well, this universe’s version of him insists on Speedfreaks FM, and insists on you not calling him a ‘torque dork.’ Differentiating the Viktors from each other gets really complicated really fast, but giving them numbers feels dehumanizing. (If you did, this Viktor would be V-24. You’ve been keeping track.)

You turn on your blinker and wait for an opening to drive into the parking lot. Beneath the chatter of the radio hosts, you can hear Viktor tap his slender fingers against his forearm crutch in the passenger seat. Another difference you’ve noticed – both his outward fidgeting and his different mobility aids. 

When your turn comes, you turn your car into the parking lot. You slowly let the car drift, your foot hovering above the brake in case someone needs to cross. 

You turn down the radio a few clicks. “You think you’ll need your wheelchair?”

Viktor is silent. You take your eyes off the road for a split second and glance at him. He’s looking out the side window, at the plaza’s tall buildings and a sign that says Pueblito Plaza. 

“Viktor?” You say. “You hearing me?”

You pull into a parking spot and put the car in park. Worry eats through you – you don’t know what’s happening. Why is he acting like this?

He’s turned in his seat, looking through the back window at the buildings. There’s amazement on his face and for a second – a split second – he’s there. He’s your Viktor. 

But he’s not. He’s not. 

Those eyes are not gold. They are topaz and they are citrine. They are the yellow-orange that accompanies the sunrise. Beautiful, yes, but not yours.

“Where… are we?” He asks, his voice soft and wonderful.

“We’re going to your doctor appointment,” you say. “With… what’s her name? The pulmonologist. And then you have a CT chest scan.”

“No – the nation,” Viktor says. “What nation are we in? I have never seen technology like this.”

He runs a hand over the console of the car, then over the glovebox. He opens it, then looks inside. Nothing but napkins from fast food places and a laminated copy of your car insurance. 

“What’re you looking for?” You ask. You turn the key, and the car shuts off. 

“The power source,” Viktor says, looking at the key in your hand. “May I?”

“Viktor, you’re not cleared to drive,” you say, your voice growing sterner and firmer. “The doctors said your legs are… too weak or something – I don’t know.”

You clutch the key (and the carabiner it’s attached to) tighter in your hand. The charms hanging from it jingle and clink together. A small cog and a toy that looks like a spark plug make a metallic click as they collide.

“What is that?” Viktor reaches out, but just barely stops himself from touching the spark plug toy. You pause for a second, then give him the entire carabiner. 

Viktor holds the spark plug toy up to his face, inspecting it closely. He lets the rest of the charms on the carabiner dangle freely. You watch him – watch his eyes. A spark of gold. A fleck of cooler color in a pool of a warmer, yellowish orange. 

He sets the pad of his thumb on the hex of the toy (the hex here is a piece of metal on a spark plug fitted for a wrench – not the hex you were used to, so long ago). He wiggles it back and forth, then spins it. The hex spins with a barely-audible metallic rasp, like a fidget ring.

“It’s very intricate for a toy,” Viktor says. “Who made this?”

“Wh… you did. You gave that to me,” you say softly. “Why don’t you remember that?”

A quiet question nags the back of your mind – is Viktor getting worse?

You silently beg that you’re right. In a twisted, selfish way, you want him to get worse. You’ve taken care of Viktor before. Watched him die in multiple dimensions. In some of them, he even died in your arms, his golden eyes fading and his hand falling from your cheek.

You know what it’s like to watch him get worse. You’ve done it before, seen it before. You know what to do, how to grieve. You don’t know what you’d do if this is… Viktor. Viktor for real. Your Viktor.

“Are you trying to stifle my curiosity?” Viktor asks, a teasing smile on his face, his eyes still on the toy. 

“You gave it to me… I don’t know, six, seven years ago?” You say. You turn so that your shoulder is leaning against the car seat, facing him. “A spark plug. It’s important to the engine. I don’t remember how. And now… I’m failing your test.”

Viktor puts the carabiner down on the console. He laughs, and he’s looking at you like… you don’t know how he’s looking at you. But it’s something familiar. Something long-lost that you’ve been yearning for. 

“How could I test you on something I barely know anything about?” He asks. His smile falters a little.

“Don’t bullshit me,” you say, smiling. (His laughter always manages to make you smile.) “You know everything there is to know about cars, trucks, motorcycles…”

Viktor’s smile turns forced and confused. His eyebrows furrow a little. “I… have no idea what you’re talking about…”

And then he says it. He says your name. Your real name, your true name – the name V-1 called you. The name the real Viktor called you. 

It goes through you like a cold shock. A baptism in electrified ice water. You want to put your hand to his throat and ask, “What the fuck? What the hell did you just call me? Who’re you talking about?” 

You want to… but you can’t. You’re frozen until Viktor places a hand on yours.

You jerk it away, cradling both hands to your chest and scrunch back against the car door. “Don’t touch me.”

And he says your name again. Again, in that tone that invites sympathy, but mostly pity. He’s pitying you. You’ve gone through this too many times, with too many therapists.

“You – Viktor,” you say, his name coming out in a gasp. There’s a lump in your throat and you feel almost nauseous. 

“You’re not… you’re not the real one,” you grind out. “You’re not my Viktor, so stop acting like it. In th– in this universe, you’re just a friend, and that’s it.”

Viktor is silent, his mouth agape. “My love –”

“Don’t! Please,” you say. The words escape you before you can do anything. “Please, just don’t. Who – who told you?”

“Who told me what?” Viktor asks. His voice is still soft and sympathetic and sickly sweet.

“That you’re… you were…” You slump against the car door. Your elbow knocks against the steering wheel.

You look at him again. Your eyes dart between both of his, looking, observing. They’re not gold anymore. Well, they never really were, but now they’re… they’re opaline – pearlescent. A whole kaleidoscope in a drop. This is something different, but, still… it’s almost like you can sense him. This is the true Viktor – your Viktor. 

“I was there, Runeterra, the core of the hexgates, and then… I wasn’t. I’ve lived twenty-three lives before this. My first memory of… here… is of my fifteenth birthday party. I had to grow up all over again. Make new friends, go to a child’s school. I didn’t have anyone. And you –” Your voice catches in your throat, on both anger and sorrow. “You left me here! You left me to do this all alone!”

“I would never.” Viktor’s cold hands meet yours. He cradles them both. “I would never leave you, my love. I’m so, so sorry.”

“But you did!” You grip his hands as tight as you can, trying to savor the feeling. Tears well at the corners of your eyes. “You left me with this… this rot. These gilded Viktors that look like you, act like you. And it hurt. Everything hurts.”

“I know,” Viktor says softly. “You’re hurting me, too.”

You blink, then realise what you’re doing and loosen your grip on his hands. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He breathes out a soft laugh, then brushes his thumbs over your knuckles. “It must’ve been lonely, all by yourself.”

“You have no idea,” you say, your voice breaking a little. You blink hard, and a tear runs down your face. “We went to an arcade, and I spent all my quarters on you. We went to a museum, and I bought you a small paperweight of a statue that was on display there. We went to this weird, exotic place – Great Britain, I think it was called – and we shared tea and scones. And, no matter what I did, it… it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t right. It… he wasn’t you.”

“I’m here now.” Viktor gives your hands a gentle squeeze – much softer than what you gave him. “How long has it been?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” you say tearfully. “Time moves differently here. Maybe… sixty years? I’m not sure.”

“Sixty?” Viktor balks. “Oh, my love…”

His hands slowly, carefully, move away from yours. Cold fingers meet your jaw, and your eyes flutter shut on instinct, head tilting down into the touch. Viktor cradles your face, both his thumbs brushing back-and-forth over your cheeks. 

 “I dreamt of you,” you say softly. “Every night. And I thought of you every day. Just… thinking of you, every moment I could spare.”

“Surely that’s an exaggeration,” Viktor says. 

You shake your head and lean further into his touch. “I’ve waited so long… so long. And now you’re here, and I – I don’t know what to do.”

He moves his hands, the tips of his fingers splayed across the sides of your neck and his thumbs gently pressing into your temples. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “This is nice, though. Just… you being here is nice.”

You lean forward, placing your hands over his to ensure they stay in place. “It felt like eternity, waiting for you. Just waiting, and longing. None of them could replace you.”

You open your eyes, just the slightest bit, and take Viktor in. Good god, he’s Viktor. He’s your Viktor. No longer the purest gold, but something new. Something better. Something life-bringing and something with infinite mercy.

“That is flattering, coming from you,” Viktor says. “You could have anyone you want – anyone across twenty-four universes. And you chose me, in every single one? That is the highest praise I could receive.”

You breathe out a laugh as your eyes shut again. “Shut up.”

“Eh… if you continue to act like this, I don’t think I will,” he teases. In a softer, warmer tone, he adds, “Your face is getting warm, too. I can feel it.”

You groan and hide your face in Viktor’s hands further. Even though you act like you hate it, you’ve missed this – you’ve missed this immensely. His teasing, his compliments that make you feel like you hung the sun, the moon, and all the stars by yourself. 

“Maybe you’re just getting warmer in general,” you say softly. “Maybe you’re getting better.”

“I have gotten better,” Viktor says, his voice light. “In our universe… I… I have touched the Arcane. I have been healed, and I am a healer. A herald into a new, better world – not only for the Undercity, but for the whole of Piltover.”

You shift his hands so that they’re resting on your cheeks and open your eyes, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “That sounds nice. I’m… sorry you had to do all that without me.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Viktor asks. “It’s not your fault.”

“I don’t know. I just…” You sigh. “I blamed it all on you, and I was angry. Real angry. But it wasn’t your fault – it wasn’t anyone’s. I was angry and I took it all out on the memory of you.”

“Do you really think I care?” His voice is soft as he swipes a thumb over your cheek. 

“No,” you admit after a moment. “But, still…”

“You are occupying your mind with the past and what-ifs,” Viktor says. He draws a hand over your scalp, his fingernails lightly digging into the skin there. “Focus on the here, the now.”

You shudder and melt into his hands. Your eyes, though still closed, sting with a fresh wave of tears. 

“I missed you,” you choke out. 

“You’ve said that already,” Viktor says. 

“I can’t say it enough,” you say, your voice sticky and wet. “I was your champion in the arena. I was your personal knight. I was the chieftain of your armies. I was your tool, your instrument. And you were my everything.”

“You are my everything,” he says. His tone is so sincere and heartfelt that it makes your throat seize up. “Why would you ever doubt that?”

“I didn’t,” you say. “It–it’s just that, all these memories… I was so many people, and so were you. And some things blur together, and it gets hard to differentiate everything, and…”

You groan and lean into Viktor’s touch. You glance up into his eyes, still opaline. “Everything got so complicated so fast. I just wanted you – the real you.”

“It’s okay, my love.” His hands move to hold your jaw, to draw you closer. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“But I feel like I have to,” you say. “I just… I just want you back. I wanna go back to the Viktor I know. I wanna go home.”

“We can go home,” Viktor says. “I can take you home.”

“Then take me home,” you say, almost too quickly. “Viktor, please.”

“You don’t have to beg,” he says. There is no teasing or hidden malice in his voice. He just wants you home, too. 

Viktor’s hands slide to the back of your head, his palms almost cradling your skull. He presses his fingers down and tilts your head forward, towards his. Your eyes flutter shut as your forehead touches his. 

It’s white. It’s the bright, cleansing light of some sort of heaven. Heaven? Haven? You’re not too sure. You’re not sure you can bring yourself to care, either. Not when you’re here – not when your Viktor is in reach. Not when you can touch him, hold him, talk to the one you love. The one you’ve been pining for, fighting for, losing and winning for. From somewhere between sixty years and eternity, you’ve been wanting him. And now he’s here. Your Viktor is here. 

It’s unbelievable. Your Viktor is here. 

The memories of your past lives, the former realities you’ve lived, meld and blur into distinct feelings. Visual memories blend into base emotions. A warrior’s pride. A traveler’s wanderlust. A teenager’s excitement. A knight’s confidence and courage. A chieftain’s insecurity cloaked as hostility. 

They melt away into contentment. A gentle wave lapping at a quiet shore. Acceptance. 

You are healed. 

You are home.