#valentines day scenario

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Yakuza - Valentine's Special

Romance is in the air and a certain yakuza is keen to teach you all about Valentine's traditions in Japan. Word Count: 4.2k Male Yandere x Fem Reader Mini Sequel to Yandere! Yakuza

As a hostess, you've been looking forward to Valentine's Day. Guests are notorious for spending big and tipping even bigger when romance is in the air.

One problem though. Your yakuza boyfriend does not approve.

"You don't have to work on Valentine's. My Family owns the club. I should get a say."

You ignore his complaining and the arms wrapped around your waist. You're focused on your makeup and no handsome, dangerous yakuza is going to distract you.

He changes tactics. "Onegaiya de? [Please?] Pretty please?"

You sigh and reach up to run your fingers through his hair. "Of course I want to stay home with you. But I need money. If you've forgotten, my brother still owes you. And besides, the house mother told me to come in today."

He frowns. "Naze? [Why?]"

"I'm very good at my job, that's why."

You manage to finish both your lashes and your lipstick before he speaks up again.

"Kurabu ni issho ni ikimasu. [I'm coming with you to the club.]"

You aren't surprised. It seems like he spends all his free time as your customer. As though being in a relationship isn't enough. As though he wants to have you both during and after work.

You turn and plant a kiss on his cheek. You leave behind a lipstick mark that he's in no hurry to wipe off. "If you want to spend all your money on me, I'm definitely not going to complain."

He grins in that lazy way of his and loops his arms fully around your waist. "Anata wa watashi no kanojodesu [you're my girl]. Who else would I spend my cash on?"

He drives you to work with one hand on your thigh. It gives you butterflies - the warmth of his skin bleeding through the fabric of your dress, the way he sometimes squeezes the meat of your leg like he subconsciously wants to remind himself that you're still there.

When he opens the car door for you, he brushes his lips past your ear. "Got a real nice surprise for you later."

You stop and pretend to fix your heels so you can look up at him through your lashes. "Is it the same surprise as last time? Because I loved that one."

Big, scary guy that he is, you think you can still see him swallow and freeze when you look up at him like that. He takes you hand and steadies you but the eyes that trace over your body are hooded, unreadable. "Not what I had in mind this time, no."

He inhales sharply when you step past him and 'accidentally' brush your hand over his belt.

"Too bad," you say, "I love that thing you do with your tongue."

It takes him a second to catch up with you. When he does, he wraps his arm around your waist and hisses in your ear.

"Anta, ijiwaruya na. [You unbearable tease]."

You can't help but smile. Personally, you'd describe yourself as an unbearable, romantic tease. It being Valentine's and all.

You're honestly looking forward to spending your shift with him. Even though he's started calling himself your kareshi, he still doesn't talk about himself much. You're not offended by it. There are a thousand little ways you've pieced together his past. The way he likes his sake hot and the way he turns his nose up at high end sushi, the way he holds his cigarette when he smokes and the way he can flick a match on his thumb. It all tells you a bit more than he'd probably like you to know. And each date you go on, each shift that he spends entirely focused on you, is just another opportunity for you to untangle the mystery that is your yakuza.

Unfortunately, the boss has other plans. You don't even get a chance to sit down before one of the other enforcers pulls him aside. He frowns at whatever the man is saying and then quickly presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Gomen ya de, daisukinahito. Shigotoya nen. [Sorry love. Gotta work]."

He's out the door before you can even object. The house mother narrows in on your table and less than a minute later she has a client seated across from you. She's built a habit of trying to cram as many customers into your schedule as possible when your boyfriend isn't around to steal you away. You can almost admire her dedication.

The first client of the night is a salaryman already happily flushed with drink. He tips you well, buys you several rounds of expensive drinks and gives you a drunken kiss on the cheek before he leaves. A very typical Valentine's date.

You get through a few more without any issues. Mostly businessmen not willingly to go home to an empty apartment. Your wallet gets noticeably fatter after each one. It's long past midnight when things finally go sour.

You're touching up your lipstick when the yakuza walk through the door. You can tell what they are at first glance. And worse, you know these aren't the usual guys.

You expect trouble. You aren't sure when you developed an instinct for yakuza business, but you know that the newcomers most definitely aren't part of the Family.

You try and watch them as subtly as you can. One of the regular enforcers goes up to meet them and - surprisingly - leads them to the back of the club.

The group passes right next to you. You keep your eyes on your compact and lipstick like you've never seen anything quite so interesting as YSL Loveshine. At the last second you look up, and straight into the eyes of a bleached blonde gangster with a mean smile. He must have been looking at you already, because he shoots you a playboy wink.

On instinct, you bow your head. Even if they weren't your Family, it wasn't a good idea to be caught lacking in respect.

When they're finally gone, you sigh in relief. Talk about scary. Those guys looked like their favourite pastime was baseball; the faces and knee cap variety.

You're about to get up and take your break when something makes you look over your shoulder. The blonde yakuza is leaning against the wall just outside the staff-only door. And looking straight at you.

Oh, please not today. You already have one yakuza in your bed and almost constantly blowing up you phone. You want absolutely nothing to do with Mr Tall, Blonde and Evil.

No such luck. He says something to the enforcer next to him and beelines towards you. Eyes locked on yours.

He slides in next to you - not across where a client would normally sit. You shift over to make room for him and wonder if there's something in the water that makes you particularly noticeable to men with a nicotine and tattoo addiction.

"Omae, jitto mi teruyan ka. Na n ya, kiniitta n kai, kawaī ko. [I noticed you staring. Like what you see, pretty girl?]"

His voice is raspier than your boyfriend's. And meaner too.

You can just...pretend to not speak Japanese. But one look at the blond's sharp, lazy smile tells you he'll know you for a liar the second you open your mouth.

"Omaeni mo onaji ko to kiitē wa, ikemen-san. [I could ask you the same thing, pretty boy.]"

He laughs, "She's got an attitude! Not scared of a big, scary yakuza?"

"Are you supposed to be telling me that about yourself?" You lean your chin on your palm and tilt your head. "What if I'm a cop?"

"Then you can put me in handcuffs right now." He let's his eyes roam down your body. "I'll happily do whatever you want, officer."

Okay. Pervert yakuza number two added to your collection. Could you get out of this somehow? A client is a client but you don't want to be next to him any longer than necessary.

"Don't you want a girl who can speak Japanese? I'm still not very good."

"What I want? We won't really be talking if we do what I want."

He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and lights one with an easy flick of his lighter. He inhales deeply and let's the smoke out of his nose, like a dragon.

"You got a boyfriend?"

That really does seem to be the first question these guys ask you. What happened to 'how are you?' and 'here's a fat stack of cash, do you want it?'

"Yes." You shrug, like this is just a casual conversation with another client and not a rival with a gun under his suit jacket. "He's part of the Family."

"Wakatta wa. [I see]." He offers you a pull of his cigarette. You almost decline, but you look into his eyes - a dark hazel - and realise what a bad idea that would be.

He holds your gaze as he presses the cigarette against your lips. You pull on it as lightly as you can, the tip flaring a bright orange.

It burns your throat and you turn away from him to cough out the smoke. God, that stuff is awful. Why the hell is your man always lighting one if this is what they taste like?

When you turn back to him, the yakuza is studying the cigarette. Your lipstick left a stain on the filter. Slowly, he brings it to his lips and covers the place where your own lips were. He pulls in deeply and tilts his head back, eyes closed.

"Sweeter than normal," he breathes.

Nope. Nope. Nope. It's flattering really, but you aren't an idiot. You don't want your boyfriend's rival sitting so close to you, you don't want him looking at you with eyes like liquid honey and you most definitely don't want him calling you sweet.

If you could telepathically summon your boyfriend, you would. Unfortunately, he's busy with whatever it is they took him off to do, and you're stuck making conversation with a man who's arm keeps inching tighter and tighter around your shoulders.

You try to stand up and excuse yourself, but he wraps a palm around your thigh and pulls you back down without even trying.

"I need to pee," you tell him. He grins, cigarette casting his features in shadow.

"Perfect. I'm really thirsty."

Alright then. Ultimate host club perv discovered. It's almost a relief. You were worried your boyfriend would continue to hold that unenviable title.

You're about to say something - probably along the lines of it would go down even better with a vodka chaser - when your boyfriend finally arrives. You can tell it's him by the way he let's the door almost slam shut behind him. (You've tried working on that but every time you bring it up, he just says that you're so cute when you're bossy and won't you please take that tone with him later tonight?)

The blonde must have followed your line of sight, because his grip gets just a little tighter on you. "That your boyfriend?"

He's already heading toward your table and his frown spells trouble.

"Yep." You wonder if the blonde would listen to you if you tried to warn him away. You doubt it.

Your yakuza's hair is messy and his sleeves are still rolled to his elbows. He must have come straight from whatever job he got called away for.

He stops right in front of you, his arms crossed.

"Times up," he says simply. "Her shift is over."

The blonde takes another pull from his cigarette. "This your girl?"

Your boyfriend tenses, "Un. Kanojo wa watashi no monodesu. [Yeah. She's mine]."

You can almost feel the room getting colder. Your boyfriend flicks his eyes at the other yakuza standing at the back of the club.

"What are you doing here?"

"Boss had business with your side of things. Said I could throw back. Sample the goods." Blondie runs his palm up your thigh. "I'd have risked coming over ages ago, if I knew you had such cute pieces."

Your boyfriend narrows his eyes. "Times. Up. She's got another date waiting."

The blonde yakuza makes a show of looking at his wristwatch. "Looks like I've still got five more minutes."

"Your watch is late." Every word is bitten off and curt. You've seen him serious before, but never like this. Is this what he's like when he's working?

It's easy to forget his job when he's sprawled in your bed with his head on your chest, muttering about letting him sleep for five more minutes. It's easy to forget that he's a gangster who breaks faces for a living. That he's dangerous.

After tonight, you don't think you'll ever forget that fact. It's terrifying to be across from him, even if his glare isn't directed at you.

The moment stretches - taut, awfully tense. Finally, the blonde breaks.

"Tch. I've got shit to do anyway."

He stands up - and just when you're about to sigh in relief - kisses you right on the mouth. You jerk backwards, more surprised than anything else.

He straightens and runs his fingers over his lips. "Even sweeter than I thought."

You scramble out of the booth and grab your boyfriend's arm before he can do anything stupid. The muscles under your palms are already coiled tight and you're terrified to see what might happen if that strength is unleashed.

You bow in a quick, half hearted way. "O jikan o itadaki arigatōgozaimasu. [Thank you for your time]."

And then you're dragging your man out of the club before he can muster any objections.

It's only when the cold February wind is kissing your cheeks that you dare to look over at him. He's looking back at the club, eyes narrowed.

"How long?" he asks quietly.

"Barely even ten minutes," you half lie. "Really. He didn't do anything until you showed up, I promise."

You tug at his hand. "It's late. Let's go home, please?"

He finally looks at you, eyes flat and face blank. That scares you even worse than if he was frothing at the mouth and swearing.

"Alright," he says mechanically, "Let's go home."

Usually you take the train to work or he drives you. So when he starts walking, you don't immediately realise the streets are all wrong. His car is nowhere to be seen.

Even though Spring isn't that far off, this late at night the city is still icy. You wrap your arms around yourself and it doesn't take him long to notice.

"Koko. Kore o kite kudasai. [Here. Wear this]." He pulls off his suit jacket and drapes it across your shoulders. It smells like him - cologne and cigarettes. You aren't sure when, but at some point that scent became the one you associated with safety, with home.

It's quiet. You can't exactly ask him what work he did while he was gone and you most definitely aren't going to mention the club again.

He's the one who finally breaks the silence. "Purezento o moraimashita. [I got you a present]."

He did mention that earlier.

"Can I guess what it is?"

That earns you a half smile."Mochiron. [Sure]."

"Chocolate."

"No. Not this time."

"Hmm... Flowers?"

"They make you sneeze."

True. But what else would he have bought you for Valentine's?

"A puppy?"

He doesn't immediately reply. Eventually, "I really didn't think about that one. Do you...want a puppy?"

You first instinct is to say yes. Who wouldn't want a puppy? Despite having him, your brother, and your friends from the club, Japan is still a lonely place for you. A puppy would remind you of home.

But it would also make Japan your new home. In a way you aren't sure you want. In your mind, it still feels like you'll leave soon, be gone next week or next month, when this debt issue is settled. Even your boyfriend feels temporary. This isn't your country.

"No," you say eventually, "Not yet."

He must be thinking along the same lines as you because at your reply, his smile thins and he looks away from you.

"Nande ya, ano ko ni inu demo kattaro ka. Muriyari ore to ora setaru wa. [Shoulda got her a damn puppy. Force her to stay with me]."

You don't understand Japanese well enough to understand him when he changes his dialect. He manages a smile.

"Not a puppy either. Do you give up?"

You hate losing. You pull his jacket tighter around yourself. "...Yeah I give up."

He slows to a stop."Mewotojite. [Close your eyes]."

He takes your hand in his and lays something in your palm. You open your eyes to see a diamond necklace on a bed on midnight blue velvet. And it's definitely diamond - even in the neon soaked streets of the Red Light District, it sparkles. You gasp.

You're almost scared to touch it. It looks beyond expensive. Like something you pass in a store window and tell yourself maybe someday.

"You like it?"

You look up at him, eyes wide. "It's incredible. I've never... I've never owned something this beautiful."

He looks beyond smug. He plucks it out of the box and in one smooth move has it around your throat. His fingers brush the nape of your neck as he fastens the clip.

If you were on you own, you'd never dare to wear it out on the street. But only a colossal idiot would try and grab it off your neck when there was an armed yakuza right next to you. You shouldn't feel safer in the company of a criminal, but you do. God help you, you do.

He presses a kiss against your temple."Watashi no gārufurendo ni totte saikō no mono dake.[Only the best for my girl]."

It scares you a little - how much he's willing to spend on you. How are you supposed to repay a gift like this?

"Ie ni kaerimashou.[Let's go home]," he coos in your ear.

You laugh and loop your arm through his. "Want me to show you exactly how much I love my gift?"

"Yes." His voice is low and almost strained. "God yes."

It's only when you're halfway down the street that you remember you have something for him too.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" you spin away from him and dig through your handbag. "Ta-da! A hostess at work was telling me that it's usually the girls who give gifts on Valentine's."

You hand over the chocolate you bought him. It's a thick slab with Turkish delight in the centre. You've stuck a plethora of pink and red hearts to the box, each one with a sappy little quote in the centre.

You feel a little silly giving a gift like this to a yakuza of all people. But you also want to do something for your boyfriend, even if it is sickeningly romantic.

You picked up on him liking Turkish delight when your brother bought you a box, and it was mysteriously empty when you got home that day. Your yakuza claimed he didn't touch it, but he tasted suspiciously like rose candy when you kissed him.

He takes it from you carefully. "For me?"

You stand on your toes and loop your arms around his neck.

"Will you be my Valentine?"

He's quiet for a moment or two, looking at you like he just can't understand you. Finally, he pulls you into him and buries his face in your neck. He takes a deep breath, but when he speaks his voice is just a bit unsteady.

"Of course I'll be yours. Ore wa zutto omae no mon'ya de. [I'll always be yours.]"

A man with a rap sheet as long as a CVS receipt, and somehow he's yours.

You pull him closer against you. "Thank you. For taking care of me. For helping me out when you had no reason to."

He hums quietly against your neck. "Nan demo surude, honma ni nan demo. [I'll do anything for you. Anything]."

He pulls away and something in his face tells you he's just had an idea. He peels the hearts off the box and carefully folds them into his pocket. He breaks off a piece of chocolate and holds it up to your mouth.

You're immediately suspicious of the smirk on his face, but you oblige and let him prop the chocolate between your lips. He leaves a piece sticking out of your mouth and before you can bite it off, he leans forward and does it for you. His hand slips around the nape of your neck to keep you still.

His lips barely brush yours.

He pulls away looking extremely satisfied. You've kissed him so many times already but your heart doesn't care. You can hear your blood rushing through your ears.

"Sweet," he runs his thumb across your bottom lip and then presses it against his tongue. "Just how I like it."

Damn him for a devil and a half. It's so totally unfair how giddy and nervous he makes you feel.

He nods at the building behind you. "Good thing we're already home."

"Home?" Is this his apartment? He never brings you to his apartment.

He leads you to the elevator and to your surprise has to use a key card to access the highest floor. The buildings in this part of town are cramped for space but when the elevator dings open, it does so in a broad corridor lined with heavy doors. He must be earning much more than you realised, to have a place like this.

He pauses on the threshold.

"Gotta carry you in. It's tradition."

"Only if we're newlyweds."

"Not true," He blatantly lies, hands drifting down your back. "Brings you luck for the rest of the year."

Before you can object, he sweeps his arm under your knees and scoops you up bridal style.

"Risuku wa toritakunai de. Un wa zenbu hoshī wa. [Not taking any chances. I want all the luck I can get]."

You don't get to see much of his loft-style apartment before he drops you on his bed. One knee already pressing into the mattress next to your waist.

He drops his head down to kiss the column of your throat.

"You'll be wearing nothing except your necklace when I'm done with you," he promises, voice already dropping to a slurred, needy growl.

Oh my. That's a new one. And you always took him for the lacy lingerie type.

You tug at his shirt but with one twist of his hand, he catches both your wrists. "No. You first."

"Impatient aren't we?"

His hands are already skimming down your back and unzipping your dress.

"Oh you have no idea how patient I'm being."

His lips dip past your collarbones and then lower still. You arch against his chest, breathless.

At the last second he pulls away. You practically whine.

"Move in with me."

You blink. "What?" Is he really asking you this while you're in your bra and panties? And when there are much better things to do with his mouth?

"You heard me. Maiban beddoni ite hoshī. [I want you in my bed everynight]."

You frown. Wouldn't it be dangerous? More dangerous than working in a yakuza club and sharing his bed already was?

His grip on you tightens. He isn't smiling anymore. "You're my girl. You should stay with me. Not your brother. And sure as hell not on your own."

"I-"

He slides down your body until his head is between your thighs. "Good. I'll get someone to move your things tomorrow."

"Wait, I didn't say -" He does something with his tongue that makes you gasp and arch your back.

"No more objections?" he mocks. You're too breathless to answer.

"Ēyan. Kikitakatta kotoya wa. [Good. Just what I want to hear]."

He's awake long before sunrise. You're still curled under his sheets, lovebites littered across your neck.

He didn't give you a chance to notice them last night, but there's a bouquet of roses waiting for you on the nightstand.

He leans in the balcony door, cigarette smoke curling between his teeth. Just watching you.

His girl. His to touch. His to have. His to hold and keep.

Do you have any idea how lucky you are that it was him you ran into that night? If it was anyone else sent to collect your brother's debt, they'd have just left you to drown under the mountain of interest. Let it get so bad that you couldn't possibly pay your way out and then offer you a job at a soapland. Hell, that was his plan too when he first laid eyes on you. Pretty thing like you would have made a fortune as a yūjo.

But then you went and made him fall for you. It's selfish of him to want you. He knows it's dangerous to have you on his arm. That blonde bastard from last night was proof enough. He knows, and still...

You can't expect a criminal to be selfless. You can't show him something precious and expect him to let it go.

"My girl." He exhales a cloud of smoke and leans his head back. "Gonna make you my wife someday. You just don't know it yet."

[purerae]

╭────༺♡༻────╮

YANDERE!PLAYBOY X FEM!READER

Valentine’s day Special! <3

warnings ;; yandere!playboy being a delusional freak (as usual), yandere behavior, MAJOR second hand embarrassment, slightest bit of angst (if you squint), crack.

╰────༺♡༻────╯

Valentine’s Day for Kieran was basically his second birthday. The rich boy never bought candy, why would he, when he could stock up for free just from today alone? His locker was overflowing with chocolates, candies, and love notes—notes that he didn’t even bother reading before tossing them straight into the trash. But the sweets? Oh, he made sure to keep those. Stuffing his bag full, he scoffed at the cheap, store-bought heart chocolates while setting aside the good stuff; the expensive ones, the homemade treats that probably took hours to make. Greedy. That’s all it was. Kieran was just greedy. But even with all the gifts, all the attention, all the adoration, it never really mattered—not until today. Not until he spotted one letter on his desk that actually made his heart skip a beat. Because this one? This one had to be from you. For the first time on February 14th, Kieran felt a genuine rush of excitement, something different from the usual smug satisfaction of being adored that just boosted his already huge ego. The envelope sat on his desk, neat and delicate, like it had been placed there with care—like it actually meant something. His fingers brushed over your initials written in beautiful cursive handwriting, slow and deliberate, his mind already running wild. Finally. You were finally giving in. He could already picture you, shy and flustered as you wrote it, your heart laid bare just for him. A love letter? From you? His sweet little obsession finally coming to her senses? He was grinning, twirling the letter between his fingers, taking his time, savouring the moment. Oh, you were so cute for this.

 He carefully opened the letter, fingertips tingling with anticipation. His heart was racing, his mind already running a mile a minute. What kind of sweet words did you leave for him? Were you confessing your love? Finally admitting that you couldn’t resist him any longer? God, you knew him so well! Every detail, down to the paper, the handwriting, the delicate way the envelope was sealed—it all screamed you. This was the first time that the suave playboy turned into a giggling high school girl, biting his lip to keep from grinning too wide. If he was just some regular guy, people would be throwing weird glances at him for nearly stomping his feet in excitement, but he’s Kieran, so no one does.

To be honest, all the girls around him loved it. They giggled amongst themselves, watching him act like a lovesick fool, finding it more endearing than embarrassing. Some of them seething in jealousy at the mysterious girl who got the school's renowned playboy all lovestruck like this. Man, pretty privilege was real. Any other man would’ve been clowned for this, but Kieran? No, Kieran could get away with anything—especially when he looked good doing it.

The white haired male just had to find you, had to catch a glimpse of his princess all shy and flustered from pouring out her emotions in this cute little letter. He was already going to force you into his valentines day plans-- but you, making the move first? Gosh, you never fail to surprise him. Kieran rushed around the school, finally found you hanging around the library. He waltzes over to your table, practically floating with confidence, that stupidly charming smirk plastered across his face. With an easy flick of his wrist, he spun the chair around, plopping down and draping his arms over the back like he owned the fucking place; the letter was in his hand, obnoxiously tapping it against his palm as he leaned in, way too close, eyes glinting with something dangerous beneath all that excitement.

“Sooo...” he drawled, looking at you up and down, voice smooth as ever, “...couldn’t resist me anymore, huh princess~?” the blue eyed male winked as he laughed boyishly, Though his words were condescendingly annoying, a glint of affection is laced in his orbs. 

You, the girl who just wanted some peace on this already lame ass day where you enviously stare at the lovey dovey highschoolers with, gaze up from your notebook as you stare blankly at him, forcing yourself not to immediately roll your eyes at the sight of the blue eyed playboy.  “Huh?” You blink once, and then twice at him.

Kieran scoffs out a laugh. Still so shy, bless your cute little soul. “The letter, sweetheart.” He waved it a little, like it was obvious. “Real cute of you, by the way. You always did have good taste.” Your eyebrows furrow as you stare at the pastel pink letter, squinting at it before looking back at him. “What letter? Dude what the fuck are you talking about?” tilting your head as you grimace at his stupid little smirk. Kieran let out a breathy laugh, tilting his head like you just said the funniest thing in the world. “Ahh, playing shy now? That’s adorable, really,” he mused, tapping the letter against his chin. “Didn’t think you’d get cold feet after pouring your heart out like this, but it’s okay, princess. I get itttt. Big emotions can be scary!” he says with a mocking pout, leaning in closer. He reached out, trailing a finger down your arm like he was so sure this was some flirty little game. Youre playing hard to get as always, its okay! He likes the chase. However, you cant back out this easily when he literally has the physical proof of your love-- no, infatuation towards him. “You don’t have to pretend, y’know. I already know it’s from you.” his other hand tracing the first letters of your first and last name that was engraved onto the envelope. 

But the way you just kept staring at him, utterly lost, was starting to poke holes in his fantasy. No. No, you were just messing with him. Testing him. Right? Rolling your eyes, you snatch the letter out of his hand, too tired to deal with whatever weird fantasy he had cooked up this time. With an exhausted sigh, you scanned the handwriting, flipping the letter over to really stare at the initials , and then—oh. Oh, this was actually hilarious. Your hand slaps your mouth as you stifle a giggle.

“Kieran,” you deadpanned, looking him dead in the eyes, “this isn’t from me. It’s from the other girl in our chemistry class. Y’know, the one with the same initials as me?” Silence.

Kieran just stood there, blinking, like his brain was trying to reboot. His fingers twitched slightly at his sides, and for the first time all day, he didn’t have a slick response ready. You watched, unimpressed, as his expression went through about ten different emotions at once—confusion, disbelief, denial, a little more denial—before finally landing on something unreadable. “...what?” He freezes for a solid minute before letting out a light chuckle, rolling his shoulders back like this was no big deal. “Ohh, right. Of course. The other girl.” He nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets, throwing on that easy, practiced smirk. “I knew that! I was just.. I was just joking, silly~!”

But inside? He was tweaking.

'What the actual hell. What do you mean it’s not from you? Then why the hell did it feel like you? Look like it was from you? Sound like you?' His heart was racing, but not in the good way anymore. His palms felt weirdly clammy. His eye twitched. 'No. No, no, no. This doesn’t make sense. This was supposed to be from you. This was supposed to be our moment. So why— who, who even is the other girl??? Has he ever even interacted with her??' Suddenly the heartfelt words that adorned the letter just seemed incredibly corny and cheesy to him. The bright pastel colours decorated along the paper blazed in his eyes, practically laughing at the delusional boy that stood before it. 

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow at him. “Uh-huh. Sure you did.” Kieran swallowed. Act natural. Act. Natural. The playboy opened his mouth, ready to spit out some smooth, damage-control comeback—but nothing came out. For the first time in his entire life, he had nothing. Just sitting there, frozen, swallowing the most brutal, humiliating reality check of his existence. And the worst part? You were just staring at him. Not even amused. Not even mad. Just tired and annoyed.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose like you were physically in pain just being near him. “I literally don’t have time for this. Happy Valentine's Day man.”  You say with a tight lipped smile, grabbing your stuff as you pat his shoulder. And with that, you turned on your heel and walked away.

Kieran just stood there, gripping the letter so hard it crumpled in his palm. His ears were burning, his jaw tight, but his smirk? Still there. Bruised ego? Maybe. But shattered? Please. A mix-up like this wasn’t enough to shake him. You didn't straight up reject him, it was just a misunderstanding! It was all that stupid girl's fault for having the same initials as his dear soulmate! As if you could ever actually reject him.

No, no, this just meant you were still fighting it. Still playing your little games, still too stubborn to admit what you really wanted. Him. That was fine. He had all the time in the world to let you come to your senses. You’d see it eventually—how you were meant for him, how there was never any other option. And when you finally stop running? Oh, princess he’d be right there, waiting. Besides, there was always next year, and that time; he is certain that the only chocolates he’d be getting is from you.

a/n :: for some reason you guys looveee seeing kieran suffer so heres my early valentines gift for you all :p (maybe not you all but the three anons in my inbox LOL) purerae<3

[uhdrienne]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 the embodiment of grace and deviousness

⛓️ pairing: seungcheol x f!reader ⛓️ genre: sfw, fluff, angst, mafia au, soulmate au ⛓️ word count: ~8k ⛓️ warnings: mentions of violence, weapons, open wounds. do not interact if it can be triggering! there's going to be cursing too because seungcheol is a grumpy one :") ⛓️ summary: as an author, it's almost poetic that your soulmate tattoo would be a flower. actually... half a flower. a snapdragon, to be exact. the petals on your arm, the vines on seungcheol's. it's even more cliche when you meet him on valentine's day. to you it means grace, but for seungcheol, he still has zero idea on what flower his tattoo is. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious at all, but during this season of love, you're about to figure out exactly what this all means for you and him, the leader of the city's most dangerous mafia.

author's note: suuurprise! to commemorate my first valentines' on this platform, here is a fic, part of @ddeonghwa-s Secret Cupid Event 💌 thank you so much to @ddeonghwa-s for putting this event together, and of course to the wonderful @kpopflowerfield for giving me this opportunity to write for you, i hope you like this as much as i did💘

here is the event masterlist! do support the works of all other authors too, all of them are so so amazing <3 happy valentines' day!!

depending on the POV, italics signify either the author's writing or Seungcheol's thoughts <3

"Territory 13 is acting up again, sir."

"Are they?"

"They're giving trouble. Threatening to cut off our chain supply in the north."

“Hm.”

“We’ve lost a few men fighting them for the past few days. The situation doesn’t seem to be de-escalating, so we reported to you.”

“Nowhere else we can push to weaken them?”

“They seem to have it figured out, sir. They outnumber us at every turn.”

"Well, we can't have that, can we?"

"No, sir."

"You have three hours till dawn. Take the men you need and get it settled. It won't be pretty if I don't get better news by then."

"Yes, sir."

"Go."

He swings his chair around to the fading sky of the night, nursing his glass of amber. He looks down to his full sleeve of black, red, and blue ink. Zinnias, dahlias, rhododendrons, and in the centre, like the highlight of a Naturalism painting, a whorl of vines and small, green leaves, linked to the vines of other flowers. He has no idea what it means, has had no idea since the day he got it. Ever since, all he's focused on is getting it covered, blended in with other flowers on his skin.

What is the point of such a mark on his skin, he wonders for the umpteenth time as he runs his hands over the permanent imprint, if the universe won't show me what it means?

He glances at the corner of his screen. 1:30am. 14 February. Hm.

He looks away.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we can proceed with cover design and vetting for you, ma'am."

"Oh... Not possible? At all?"

"I'm afraid not, ma'am. Your drafts weren’t given the green light from our Head of Publishing, and our team can't exactly spare the manpower to help you right now."

"...I see. And there’s no one else I can look for? Or….. any contacts you may have?”

“We can try, ma’am, but we can’t promise anything. It’s busy period for us publishers at the moment.”

“Ah. Well, thank you anyway. I hope we can work together in the future."

You put your phone down and sink back into your chair, covering your face with your hands. Your most recent creative co-director pulled out two days ago, another graphic design deal fell through, and now this publishing company. At this rate, you don't know if your book will even ever reach the local bookstore across the street.

You blow out a breath, look down at the only black ink on unblemished skin, the one that's been there since the day you turned 20 years old.... the petals of a snapdragon.

Your phone lights up with a text from a friend, and as you unlock it, the date catches your attention.

14 February. Happy Valentines' Day to you.

Your final straw comes when you're walking home from your office the next night. You rub your tattoo, which has been irritated the whole of today. You have no idea what it means, just that it can't be good for your soulmate bond. But you've never been concerned for him, not the slightest bit, since the day you got the tattoo. Because he's not something you're looking for right now.

Then you hear scuffling, a familiar thing here in the rougher area of town where you live. Your only intention is to walk past and ignore everything. From prior experience, that's the best survival tactic you have: Don't go looking for trouble, and it won't find you.

A man appears on the sidewalk and walks towards you. You walk faster, calculating the distance it takes. Two hundred metres and you'll be under the safety of the street lights. One hundred and fifty. One hundred. The man seems to be getting closer.

You hear a thud. Fuck. What was that?

You squeeze your eyes together and turn around. It sounds stupid, but you'd like to at least see the face of your captor before you see darkness. You read novels about this. When a character gets out of a captor's grasp, they can never tell the police what the kidnappers look like. If now is your time, you won't go down making the same mistake.

Except there isn't a captor nor a body bag. It's just another man, hands in pockets, bending down to survey the unconscious lump on the concrete ground just behind you. He looks at you, the exact moment that you too meet his eyes. And you feel it. At the worst possible time in your life, ever, for crying out loud.

Hundreds, maybe thousands of volts of electricity. A rising and a pop in your head, a sizzling burn on your forearm. Who knew a soulmate bond snapping into place could be this painful? You choke out a gasp as the pain sears, brands itself into your arm. The outline of the flower appears in full glory, the vines entwining itself around your arm as it links with the petals. It's beautiful and horrifying, and you watch as the flower you've been waiting for finally, finally blooms.

Before long, the bloom appears on your forearm. A snapdragon.

The man seems to feel the same thing, as he doubles over in pain, pupils dilated in shock and clutching his arm. His face is covered by his hood so you can't see what he looks like, but he turns and runs, and before long he's disappeared into the darkness.

A few minutes pass before the pain finally subsides, and in its place comes a wave of exhaustion. You sink on the concrete, careful not to stir your unconscious stalker, who's still lying on the ground motionless.

You've found your soulmate. On the day of love.

You touch your mouth when you feel a smile creeping up your face.

--------------------------------

Seungcheol opens his door, barks an order to his guard outside not to disturb him unless "someone is bloody dead", sinks down on a couch and grabs a whisky. He downs it, the burn of the alcohol close to nothing as compared to that of the flower sitting oh-so-innocently on his forearm. He'll never forget the way the snapdragon petals appeared, as if they were burnt into his skin.

He stares at it, remembers the girl who gasped in pain just as he did. He never meant for this to happen. He was only passing by and saw a man from one of the local, problematic gangs sneaking up on you. He only meant to get the man away as he usually would for anyone else, because his principles, despite his rough line of work, never permitted him to disrespect women. He only meant to do one thing and go on his way. He only felt his arm burning right before he turned onto that damn street.

He glares at his arm, like the ordeal is its fault. His hand is shaking. It never shakes.

He didn't mean to feel his bond snap into place, never meant to meet you. He takes another long swig. This is the worst timing ever, he thinks darkly.

Meeting your soulmate on Valentines' Day can't be pure coincidence. If there wasn't a sign before that this was your chance, there very well was now. The next day you come up with a mission plan.

Find the man who is apparently my soulmate

...........

And that's when you sit down and have a good think. What are you even going to do when you do find him, anyway? Get together with him purely because he's meant for you, as the universe dictated? What if he's a rude jerk? What if he's ugly? What if... oh god, what if his breath stinks?

What if... he doesn't like you?

You continue writing on your notepad, absently, mindlessly writing sentences and paragraphs like word-vomit. Before long, you look down on the page to see almost a full journal entry, like you always do when you're anxious or stressed.

"Great," You mutter. "May as well write a book about this."

You enter the bookstore, waving at the little old lady who runs it.

"Good morning," She hums. "What are you looking for?"

You smile, thumbing through the different books on the shelf. "Morning. Something about flowers, maybe? I'm doing research... for a book I'm writing."

She nods. "Perhaps a book that explains the flower on your arm?"

You chuckle. Nothing could ever get past her eyes. "You caught me."

The lady laughs in return. "That," she says, hobbling out from the counter to rummage her inventory, "is a snapdragon. Yours is lovely -- a nice shade of red."

You smile. "Does its colour represent something, too?"

The old lady pulls down a thick book, flips through it and sweeps off the dust on the cover. "Every colour has its representation, but it's also your choice to decide what it means to you." She passes you the book. "In Chinese culture, it means prosperity. It's a lucky colour. For others, it could mean passion and love. It could also mean danger, perhaps courage..."

"Wow," You mumble, flipping through the book. "One colour and thousands of meanings?"

The old lady shrugs. "Colours and nature existed way before we did," She takes the book from you and goes to wrap it up in construction paper. "Is that the tattoo that brings you to your other half?"

"So the world says," You shrug, as you pay for the book. "I had the petals first, so the stem and leaves appeared when I met him, but I don't know where he is... or even what he looks like."

The lady nods in understanding. "I wouldn't worry. You'll find your way back to each other. I'd think that's what the tattoo's for."

"Do you know about them? What do they do?"

"Some stories say they help soulmates detect when one is in danger. Other stories say the closer you are, the warmer it feels... I've never tried."

Huh. You nod. "Thank you. So very much."

There is a soft shimmer of fascination in the old lady's eyes as she waves you goodbye. "I have faith that what's meant for you will come to you in due course, dear. Have a good day now."

------------------------------------

Seungcheol hasn't stopped glowering at his tattoo all day. It looks... out of place. The petals aren't supposed to be there. It looks like an outsider, a strange feeling he can't place. If this is the bond acting up, he surmises, it fucking sucks.

He needs coffee to cure the pounding headache building up.

He orders someone to get his coffee, and as he sits to wait, he taps at his keyboard impatiently, trying to figure out how the tattoo had built up.

The petals came later, he thinks. Is that supposed to mean something?

When his right-hand man, a freckled, tan man comes in with the coffee, Seungcheol is still none the wiser on the phenomenon. So he lowers his guard (for once, he thinks bitterly, for a soulmate bond of all things), and asks the man who's currently laying his coffee cup down. "Lee."

Lee looks up. "Yes, sir?"

"What do you know about soulmate bond tattoos?"

Lee looks visibly excited. "Did you get yours, sir?"

"Asking for a friend," Seungcheol deflects immediately. "So, what do you know about it?"

"I have one, sir," Lee says, and rolls up his sleeve to reveal a... half-faded anchor tattoo. "I was so.... it felt so strange to meet my other half."

"Strange. What was it like?"

Lee shrugs as he sets down a serviette. "Can I speak freely?"

Seungcheol waves at him to go ahead. He's usually the man who acts like he has a stick up his ass, but this time, he wants to find out everything he can about having a soulmate. Just so I don't drag the poor girl down with me for no good reason, he reasons to himself.

"It wasn't all good feelings," Lee explains thoughtfully, hands pausing mid-air. "My soulmate... he was an underground weapons dealer. And you know people in our circle, we don't do feelings. They're liabilities, it's another thing enemies can use against us." He chuckles bitterly. "That was one of the only things we had in common."

Seungcheol doesn't miss the way he's speaking in past tense. "You don't have to explain yourself," He says cautiously.

"No, that's okay," Lee says. "It was a while back. See, I have fading scars to prove that."

"What did it... feel like?"

"It started fading and it hurt so much, I knew something was wrong." Lee shows his arm again.

"What happened?"

Lee shrugs. "He died in an underground turf war. One of those."

Seungcheol makes eye contact. "Did you at least have good days with him?"

Lee looks at him, then looks away. "We did. Almost left the circle for each other, but..." He shrugs again. "Time just wasn't on our side."

"No," Seungcheol agrees. "It wasn't."

His fists clench. So this is what could happen to both parties who were in the circle, nevermind a civilian. He nods. "Thank you for telling me."

Lee gives him a half-smile. "So is this about your tattoo?"

"Y- No, for my friend," Seungcheol replies, cursing himself at the slip-up.

"I see," Lee says, the mischievous glint in his eyes returning. Seungcheol knows Lee doesn't believe him. As his right-hand man for years, how could he not see through Seungcheol? He starts walking towards the door. "Well, tell your friend that if there's anything I learnt, it's that time is a bitch. There's going to be a lot of fear, and it won't be pretty. But... take it from me," He smiles sadly. "It's going to feel worse when you don't treasure time and lose them. After all...." He opens the door. "I lived to tell the tale."

When the door closes behind him, Seungcheol leans back into his chair and rubs his temples.

"Some soulmates you find in the lecture hall of your school. Some you find along the way of life. Some... are pre-ordained by the universe, in the form of a snapdragon tattoo.

But are these... pre-meditated, pre-planned people meant to stay?"

You put down your pen.

You're curious. At the world, for giving you a person. How that system came about. About your soulmate. What he's like, what he looks like.

But there's no straightforward way to find him. No instruction manual that tells you where to go and what to do.

You decide to take a walk that evening. No distance limit. Just wherever your feet takes you.

And it brings you to this cafe on a street you've never been, with soft music and oak furniture, and a smiley, freckled and tan man behind the counter grins at you. "Welcome to Choi's."

"Hello," You say, smiling a bit. "Could I get a latte, and... that croissant? It looks amazing."

"Of course," He says, before turning to another burly staff that just appeared. "Get her a latte, will you?"

The staff nods, and disappears behind the coffee machine.

You take a seat, and hum as you wait. When the pastry and drink appear on your table, you thank the staff and look down to see the milk foam in the shape of a heart. Mmm. You take a sip, already feeling a lot better.

The bell jingles, and a man steps in, hands in his pockets. and heads for the counter. By force of habit, you look up and send him a cursory glance. And then you freeze. The man has rolled up his sleeves as he speaks to the staff, as if they already know each other, and on his arms....

A full tattoo sleeve of flowers. Zinnias, dahlias, rhododendrons, and in the centre, a whorl of vines leading to the most prominent flower. It looks fresh, like it was inked in a mere five minutes earlier.... in a shade of brilliant red... a snapdragon.

It's him.

The man must have excellent situational awareness because he acutely notices someone staring at him and he turns to you. Your shell-shocked face, your trembling hands... and his eyes fall on your forearm.

Choi Seungcheol had never felt this thunderstruck, not even when he found out half his men had been bought over by rivals years ago. He knows he'll never forget this feeling.

So he does the next best thing. He excuses himself from his staff and leaves.

So you get up and run after him.

Seungcheol's in the middle of cursing himself and the world out when he hears your voice calling for him.

"Sir...?"

He can pretend he doesn't know you're calling him. Sure. He can do that. Keep on walking, Seungcheol.

Until he hears running, and a tap on his shoulder. Ah.

He swallows, closes his eyes, and turns around. "Yes?" He asks coldly.

Ah. So he's not in the habit of making conversation, you think. "I'm really sorry about this, but can I...."

"Can you what?" Seungcheol replies, even though he already knows what you're going to say.

"Can I see your arm? For a second? I just wanted to make sure I wasn't seeing wrongly."

"No, you may not."

You cringe. Silence dwindles between both of you. "Uh... right."

Seungcheol reaches for his car key. "Why do you want to see my arm, love?" He casts a cursory glance at your arm. "To see if I'm your soulmate?"

You look down, then at him. "...Yeah. I got this tattoo, and I don't know what my soulmate looks like, so..."

"So you're trying to find him in me, huh?" Seungcheol doesn't mean to be rude, but this is the only way to get you off his back, at least until he knows how to move forward. The least he can do is to warn you. "News flash, love. I'm just a man who enjoys flowers. But me as your soulmate?" He chuckles and presses a button. From a distance, his car makes a beeping sound and unlocks. "I highly doubt it. You'll need to know who we are before you enter our world."

"And who are you?" The words come out before you can stop them.

Seungcheol supposes it doesn't hurt to establish who he is, just so you'll have enough sense to stay away.

"The mafia, love," He says softly, as he walks towards his car. "I'm the leader, here. I'd advise you to stay away from me, soulmate or otherwise."

When his car pulls away, you sigh and look at your tattoo.

The biggest joke the universe could have pulled on you. Making a mafia leader, out of 8 billion other people, your soulmate.

When he reaches home, Seungcheol reaches for his phone. When Lee answers, Seungcheol gives him a long list of things to do, for the cafe and for the mafia.

"Has anyone caught on the cafe yet?" He asks.

"Nope," Lee answers. "It was a good front to keep track of the public, but it seems like a normal cafe to them. So I'd say everything's fine, boss."

"Good."

"Anything else?" Lee says.

"....One more thing." Seungcheol says, sighing through his nose. "A girl came to the cafe tonight."

"...Uh-huh."

"The girl in the white cardigan and jeans."

"Right."

"Warn her not to divulge who we are and what the cafe really is. With any luck, she'll figure out that the cafe is protecting us."

"Protecting us..." Lee gasps. "Sir, you told her who you are? Why?"

"To get her to leave me alone," Seungcheol mutters. "Anyway, just tell her to zip her mouth. I don't care how you do it."

He regrets the words once they exit his mouth. "Just don't hit her or anything. We're not in that business."

A soft laugh comes over the phone. "She your soulmate or something, boss?"

Seungcheol pinches his nose. "So she thinks. Just because we have a matching..."

An idea hits him. "Do me another favour."

"Name it, boss."

"Find out where she was last night. Just to make clear something for me."

"You got it."

A knock on your door sounds in the middle of the night. When you open the door, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you flinch when two burly guys flanking the same freckled, tan man from the cafe last night step in your doorway.

"Uh...you're from the cafe, aren't you?"

"I thought a familiar face might help matters," The freckled man says. "My name's Lee. And you?"

You introduce yourself cautiously, but you look at the two men. "So... what the man said yesterday was true? You're not really a cafe, are you?"

Lee shrugs. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with, anyway." He nods to the men. "We just came here to give a little warning."

You have a feeling you already know. "What warning?"

"Don't pry, and don't tell," Lee says, still smiling, but you sense the underlying threat within. "I don't know what business you have with us, but it should end now." He nods at you. "For both yours and our good."

The burly man on the left makes a point of nodding towards your home. "We know where you live, and we can find you no matter where you go. Don't complicate things for yourself. You won't like what comes next."

And they leave, leaving you shaking in the doorway. Anger courses through you. Your soulmate sent people after you to push you away.

You don't know everything about soulmate bonds, but what you do know is that soulmates are drawn to each other: to protect, and to take care of. Either your soulmate is very, very clueless; or he just doesn't want anything to do with you. You have to find out which answer it is before you decide whether to let go of him or not.

Alright, Mr. Mafia Boss, you clench your teeth. I don't have to deal with your mafia directly to get an audience with you. Let's see how far this game can go.

Moonlight slants through his ceiling-to-floor windows. Seungcheol grits his teeth as he watches the surveillance that Lee found for him. You, walking home the night of 14 February, around 10pm, going faster and faster as that son-of-a-bitch followed you. His arms rest on his chair as he sees himself appear and knock the guy out cold.

He sighs. So it really was you. He'd recognise that face anywhere.

He looks at his tattoo once more, hating how perfectly it entwines with the rest of his tattoos. So much for covering it up. He turns his arm around again and again. It's exquisite, but it lies there like a burden.

And it picks the perfect timing to start burning. Seungcheol grunts in pain, clutching his arm as it burns, sears with the same pain it did that night. He doesn't know how the system came about, but what he knows is this: You're in danger. And as annoyed as he is about this whole situation, he has to find you. If only to make the pain stop.

He reaches for his telephone, and when the other line picks up he hisses: "Find her. Now. Scour all the surveillance in the city. I don't care what you have to do, but find her."

He can hear his man barking out orders in the background, and he shakily puts the phone down. Lee comes bursting into the room, grabs Seungcheol's arm to check on him. Normally, Seungcheol would have the head of anyone who dared to touch him without permission, but given Lee's position in this predicament, he allows him to.

"Is it supposed to be like this?" Seungcheol groans out. "It hurts like hell."

"Yup," Lee mutters. "It is. Looks and seems exactly like mine whenever Bri got into danger."

"Danger--" Seungcheol scowls and tries getting up. "You mean she's injured?"

Lee shrugs. "I don't know if it extends to normal minor situations, but whenever Bri got into a fight, I'd feel my arm burning."

"Her, fight. Don't make me laugh," Seungcheol scoffs, then grunts again as another wave of pain hits him. "She looks like she couldn't hurt a fly."

"We've located her, boss," Another man comes into the room, holding a laptop towards him.

"Where?"

When silence answers him, he hisses. "I didn't ask you this question for you to not fucking reply. I asked where?"

"The border of Territory 7, sir."

"What the hell is she doing there? Is she an underworld member, too?" Lee wonders out loud.

Seungcheol pushes himself up off his seat, wincing as his arm throbs slightly. "Fuck if I know. But I guess I have to find her if I want this pain to stop."

"I'll get men and go with you," Lee starts, but Seungcheol waves him off. "No need. We don't need to stir up a fuss, not when the territories are already misbehaving these few weeks. I'll get her, and... figure it out later."

You're tapping your foot as you wander the edges of the city's largest turf. It's well-known that civilians shouldn't pass by here if they want to get home alive and well, but with the recent news of unrest stirring in such turfs, you figure that it's the best way to seek Seungcheol out. It's stupid, but it's your best bet. Plus, you figure that the nearer you are to

You must be near a group of militants on patrol duty, because you can hear hushed orders and boots crunching. You sigh and look at your watch.

"Are you actually stupid?"

You raise your head. "So it worked. So nice of you to join me this evening."

Seungcheol storms towards you. "So you tricked me?"

"Wasn't a trick." You mutter. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"You are a nutcase," He seethes, as he grabs your arm and starts dragging you away. "Do you have any idea what would happen if anyone caught you? These few places are red-light districts now. You're not supposed to be here."

"I wouldn't know. You came anyway."

Seungcheol lets you go and huffs at you. "Go home, and don't get any more stupid ideas. Yes, I'm your soulmate. Yes, my tattoo is also a snapdragon, and I guess I can sense when you're in places you shouldn't be because my arm fucking burns, okay? Got your answer?"

"No," You say defiantly. "I haven't found out one thing. Why were you so desperate to deny that you weren't my soulmate? But you still came running anyway."

"This," He hisses, stepping closer to you, "is a pain in my ass. I can't work if my tattoo's going to start hurting every half hour. So for god's sake, please stay out of anything that doesn't concern you. Do not run into a lion's den to get an audience with me."

"So you're going to give me a way to contact you?" You shrug. "Sure, if that will keep me from making rash decisions."

Seungcheol furrows his brows. "What gave you that idea?"

"Well, you can't think I'm going to let you go after all of this, do you?"

What??

"Did I not make myself clear en-"

"Oh, you did," You say. "Like you said, you came running because you could sense I was somewhere I shouldn't be. So you can't stay away no matter how much I piss you off, can you?"

"I nev-"

"That's how soulmates work, Mr. Mafia Boss." You say smugly. "We can't stay away from each other, like a moth can't stray from the light."

Seungcheol scowls at you and then proceeds to maintain a ten-second glaring competition until he blows out a breath.

"Ten more reasons why I hate this bond so much," He mutters, before pulling out a business card and shoving it into your hands. "I've got ground rules. Don't call me for stupid reasons. Do not call to ask me out privately. Do not give my number to anyone for any reason. No exceptions, unless you want a bullet through your brain."

"Did you just threaten to shoot me...." You peruse the business card. "Choi Seungcheol?"

"Yes, and what about it?"

"You know nothing about being a gentleman."

"Never said I was one. Get in the car."

"You''re going to shoot me in there? With the expensive leather?"

"I will if you don't keep your mouth shut and start moving."

You zip it and follow him.

Success. You've met your soulmate. (You're sitting in his car, too.)

He said you couldn't call. But texting exists, so.... You're determined to bug him until he takes notice.

"It's me."

He leaves you on read.

The next day you add another message. "I guess I'll write to an empty chatroom. I'm doing good, I just had a sandwich for breakfast and I'm going to continue writing now."

5pm: "I'm done with my next chapter. Trying to find an illustrator for the cover. I'm craving soup."

11pm: "goodnight! hope your work or whatever's going well. You can't tell me anything about what you're doing?"

And so it continues, for a full three days, with silly texts about a sentence error you wrote, or a funny thing you ate, or asking him what he's doing at work, until you get a single response from him that has you rolling your eyes: "Be quiet."

You do not, to Seungcheol's chagrin, keep quiet.

He didn't think you could talk so much to someone who never replied. In a week he'd all but figured out your life pattern: wake up, eat, write (he had no idea what you were writing), find publishers and illustrators, take a walk maybe in the late afternoon, eat again, and write until it was time to sleep. You lead an awfully idyllic life compared to him, he thinks as he closes your text.

You also seem to have a love for soup, he realises. The weirdest fucking craving.

And croissants from his fake cafe. You sent him photos of it across the week, and he wonders how you never get tired of the damn thing. Your food cravings change from soup to something else every now and then, getting more bizarre with each one. (Pasta with pickles? Really?)

It was cute. (He cursed himself out after thinking about it.)

And so it goes for two more weeks until Seungcheol decides this has to stop. He texts you back for once, and you're elated as you read his text.

"Be ready Saturday night. Zip it for now, will you? I'm trying to work."

You're waiting outside your house when he pulls up. You already know that he knows exactly where you live, so you never bothered texting him your address. You get in once he stops the car, his grumpy face still on full display.

"Thanks for taking me out," You say, smiling at him, and he grunts as he pulls out and steps on the accelerator. "Isn't that exactly what you wanted?"

You shrug. "And you gave in. Is that a soulmate thing?"

"I will drop you off right this second if you say 'soulmate' one more time." He threatens.

He rubs the sleeve covering the skin on which his tattoo lies, and you frown. "Is it causing you trouble? I haven't gone anywhere weird recently, though."

"No. And you better not have."

He doesn't say much after that, simply drives about twenty minutes to a sleek, al fresco restaurant. The neon lights, warm-looking space draws you in, and when you read the menu outside while waiting for him to park...

"Soup? So you did read my texts!"

"You won't shut up about it. A little hard to miss it even if I wanted to."

You chuckle and flip through the menu. "So what're you getting?"

"You pick, you're the one craving soup of all things," He mutters absently. "Don't really care. Just came to get a message across."

"What is it?"

"Sit first before I tell you."

And so you do. He lets you get tomato soup and grilled cheese, pasta and a soda, and says absolutely nothing. He eats a little, rolling his eyes at the amount you inhale. Finally, you put down your fork. "So what did you want to tell me?"

He swallows his water before putting the glass down. "Just one thing."

You cock your head. "I'm listening."

"Why are you contacting me personally, so often? I'm sure I said not to do that."

"You said not to call," You reply, smiling. When he looks like he's about to protest, you smile again. "So I texted."

"You're fucking impossible," He mutters.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing. Anyway, stop that. I'm a busy man."

"I know. That's why I text, like, three times in a day. It's not a lot, is it?"

His hand comes down on the table, not loud enough to cause a scene but firm enough to catch your attention. "I don't have the time to entertain you, Miss Y/N. You know who I am, and that was my fault, and I think it would do you good to remember that."

"Pulling the mafia leader card on me, again?" You sigh and shake your head. "I don't know what you do, and you won't tell me. I write about people like you and mobsters. You're exactly what I write in my books."

"I am not one of your little book characters," Seungcheol hisses back. "I am not a work of fiction or something you pull out of your imagination and twist about like your plaything. I am real, and I am someone who can hurt you if I want to. And I don't owe you any information. Stop bothering me, got it?"

"Is that why you brought me here?" A surge of confidence and defiance grips you. He couldn't have taken you out to somewhere he knew you'd enjoy for no reason.

He scowls. “I can go wherever I want. Don’t read too much into it.”

You grin. “Sure.”

He nods.

“So can I continue messaging you?”

He groans. “Did you not get any of what I just said?”

You shrug. "Guess you’ll have to tell me a few more times.”

He sighs loudly, and his fingers drum the table as he seemingly goes deep into thought. The scowl is almost becoming a permanent fixture on his face, you think.

After a long moment, he groans and utters: “Next Sunday. 6pm.”

He takes you out two more times. The next Sunday, to a small restaurant you chose. This time he ate better, the consistent strain in his forehead almost easing as he bit into the lasagna.

He answered your questions, albeit grumpily, and when you got off his car that night, you thought, as you opened your journal up again, that he was finally, finally warming up to you.

But the next time he brings you out, he is visibly in a stormy mood, barely making conversation and stabbing his meat with his fork.

“Is there something wrong?” You ask.

“No.”

And there the conversation ends.

As dessert rolls in, you try one more time.

“So… how’s work lately?”

“Fine.”

“Ah.”

Please talk. Please.

“You know, I always wonder what a mafia boss does,” You pick up your spoon. “Like, order kills or something?”

Seungcheol picks up his glass. “I remember telling you not to ask about what I do.”

“And you don’t have to give me a full answer,” You shrug. “I’m just asking for a general idea. I thought it’d be nice if I got to know what you do.”

Seungcheol sits back in his seat. "Don't read too much into what I do, love." He takes another sip of water. "You can't honestly think I'm interested in you enough to reveal myself after a few meals. You said you're a writer. You shouldn't be this easy to lie to, you know that?"

Yeah, screw this.

Any confidence you had sizzles out. Easy to lie to. He thinks you're a gullible, small girl eating up every morsel of attention he deigns to give you when he feels like it. Red-hot, burning humiliation and shame rise in you.

After a long pause, you nod. "Alright. Fine. I get it. I apologise for occupying your time."

He surveys you for a second, then nods, like he just made a good business deal. "Just so we make things clear with each other."

"Crystal," You reply, no warmth in your words. "I think I finally got what you wanted to say. I thought you just weren't used to this... idea of having a soulmate, so I wanted to warm you up to it. But now I see you never wanted one in the first place."

Seungcheol furrows his brows just a fraction.

You push your chair back. You're careful not to look or seem angry, in part not to show him you're affected, and also to just... save face. He already embarrassed you. No need to do it again in public. "Take care, Mr. Choi. Thanks for putting up with me, anyway. It won't happen again. I’ll get the bill."

Soulmate, my ass.

----------------------------------

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

It wasn't supposed to turn out this way.

Glass meets the plaster of the wall. His tattoo lies there, barren, lacking its usual warmth even though nothing was taken away.

----------------------------------

Ladies and gentlemen, this is perhaps how the story goes. He pushed her away, and she realised how the universe’s plan, this whole concept, had utterly failed. There were never meant to be pre-ordained people. People change, and oftentimes they disappoint…

The journal remains open, the last sentence discontinued.

T w o M o n t h s L a t e r

Soft, oozing vocals of Clara Bow fill your apartment as you pack your writing materials. You're done writing for the day.

You glance at the clock. Nine p.m. In time for a snack and TV before you head to bed.

When you turn on the TV, the news catches your attention. Another territory struggle, another turf battle for control. You shake your head and switch the channel. Typical.

As you settle down into the cushions with chips and a glass of white wine, sudden searing pain, hot and white and agonising, shoots down your arm. You gasp and grasp it in your other hand, almost keeling over at how painful it is.

Something is wrong. Very, very, wrong.

You sink to the floor, clutching your arm and sweat starting to bead your forehead. It hurts, your arm hurts, everything hurts.

Is Seungcheol in trouble?

His name card. Right. You can just find out for yourself, and if he asks, you could just say the tattoo's causing you a lot of pain. Yes. That's it.

You stagger to your drawers to find his card, messing everything up in the process. You fumble for your phone and dial his number, again and again and again, but all you’re greeted with is a beep and an automated voice instructing you to leave a message.

You don’t know what to do. No emergency contact, no one you can find… hell, you don’t even know where he is. As you’re standing, getting ready to run out and search, there's a pounding on your door.

You barely make it to the door and open it, and there stands the freckled, tan man whose name you never got. He looks awkward, eyes racing to your tattoo. "I'm sure you must be in a lot of pain," He says. "Mr. Choi ordered me to check on you."

"Check on me?" You almost wheeze. "What's going on that my arm hurts this badly?"

Lee shakes his head. "Not right now. We will talk in the van."

"Of course you can't say." You snap, patience wearing thin, temper as riled up as the pain in your arm. You're done with his secrets. "I can't know what he's doing, I can't know where he is, or if he's alive or dead, even if the pain he's causing may very well kill me too."

"You won't die," Lee says, a little more kindly. "If this comforts you, my soulmate's gone, and I'm still here."

Your anger evaporates a fraction. "I'm sorry about that."

"No need to be." Lee sighs, then reaches his own arm out. "Hold on to me, I won’t do anything weird. I'll take you to him. He's going to be a bitch when he sees you, but... I think it would be good for both of you. More often than not, distance breaks things apart."

"He's enough of a bitch even when I'm around," You mumble, but you take his arm anyway as he helps you out.

Without much effort, he gets you into the van he came in, and barks out an order to the curious men inside to drive into what he calls "The Heart".

"What's the Heart?" You ask, as he passes you a canteen of water to drink from.

"It's what it sounds like. The heart of our territory." Lee explains, eyes trained in front. "Mr. Choi's there when we... have scuffles, and that's usually the place where security is tightest, so he can be near to us to get updates and give orders, and still not get into danger."

"So he is a leader."

"He is, and one of those you wouldn't want to cross. He's quick with his work, and he can resort to getting his hands dirty if he has to. His network and connections are... frighteningly impressive, to say the least."

"Funny how I'm hearing it from you and not him," You huff as you lay your head back, trying not to think about the pain.

"He hasn't had the experience of telling people about his life, Miss," Lee chuckles. "But I figured you'll know eventually, so better sooner than later, right?"

"Sooner than later?"

"You're meant to stick around him, Miss. For the good and bad. You're his soulmate, after all."

"I don't know if we'll get there." You sigh, and close your eyes. "Is he badly hurt? Will me being there even help matters?"

Lee shrugs. "We'll find out."

Lee gets six men to flank you both as he walks you in. Up ahead, there's a building seemingly made of unforgiving steel, it's blank canvas looming in the dark red, streaked sky.

"That's the Heart?"

"That’s the one. Unpenetrable, Miss. Let's go in."

You pray for all your sakes it really is as Lee takes you up into the elevator. When he opens one of the (almost) hundreds of similar doors to lead to an empty, cell-like room, and inside sits Seungcheol, with a red fabric pressed---

"You're bleeding," You blurt. The pain in your arm subsides just a fraction, perhaps jarred by the sensation of finally, finally, meeting him.

He looks up, eyes twisting in furious shock as he glares at Lee, and then you (you don’t know why). "Exactly which part of my order did you not understand, Lee?"

Lee bows his head in apology. "I'll never take away a chance to meet your soulmate away, you know that, sir."

Seungcheol scowls hard, and you're almost afraid he's going to shoot Lee there and then.

"Get out."

Lee smiles, ushers you in and walks out. "I'll be back in half an hour to report. I'll call for the doctor again."

You bend and peel aside the fabric. Once white, it's now soaked red, it's warmth unsettling. There's blood, so much of it, and on his once unblemished skin now contains a mess of open flesh, blood, and a...

A bullet.

"A gun." You mumble.

"Try not to throw up." He replies, ever-so-gently nudging you away. "This is Armani."

"You jerk."

His face twists in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." The anger is returning. "You say all sorts of fucking nonsense to keep me away, and we meet again months later because you're shot. And that may be a normal day for you, Mr. Choi, but us civilians don't go about our day-to-day expecting a bullet hole to appear in our skin."

His hand clenches up.

"This is why I said everything I did," He snarls in return, putting more pressure on his wound. "I knew I would never want you to try to handle what I am!"

"You never let me try," You hiss. "You refused to tell me anything, to let me see what your life was like. No, you chose to shut me out! And don't you dare tell me what I can or can't handle."

He huffs. "I see no reason in dragging you, or anyone else, in when it isn't needed."

"Yet Lee brought me here tonight." You point out. "He knows something you clearly don't."

"Lee is a nosy fucker." He snaps.

"He's someone who's experienced it all. His soulmate is gone, Seungcheol."

"And look at the pain it caused him. At least if anything happens to me, it's no love lost for you."

"Shut up."

"What?"

"I said shut up. Sometimes people want to help you. Sometimes people wouldn't actually mind, I don't know, going into this Heart place to check on you. Sometimes, you need to get it into your thick skull that I actually want to be here, to make sure you don't die while this stupid snapdragon is burned into me!"

His eyes meet yours.

"But you won't get it!" You chuckle. "You send men to check on me when I’m in pain, but I doubt you have any intention of finding me after all this gets better."

"You think I wanted to?" He shoots back.

"And you think I had it all settled for me? That I was better off not knowing the person that was meant for me, this whole time?"

"I never wanted that." Seungcheol insists hotly. "Look at my world, it's a mess, a violent place, a--"

"And there has to be a reason I'm the one picked out!" You defend. "Do you have any idea what snapdragons stand for?"

When he doesn't reply, you continue. "It stands for grace and strength. I can handle all of this. I'm not meant to measure up with your headstrong personality anyway."

"Then what are you meant for?" He asks, tone now soft, dejected.

"To complement you," You reply. You've never been this sure in your life. "To make up for the traits you lack. I'm not supposed to be as strong, or as fierce as you are. I'm meant to... ground you. That's what soulmates are. To... allow each other's strengths to shine and make up for what they don't have yet."

Seungcheol goes quiet.

"And you?" He asks, after a long pause. "What do I complement you in?"

You survey him again. "That's something I can't discover yet, because you won't let me."

“So what do you suggest?” He continues.

“No more hiding. Show me who you are. No restraint, I don’t need you to keep anything secret.”

“What if you end up like Lee?”

“Then it would have been a life well spent, at least.”

Seungcheol grunts with effort as he leaves his seat and stumbles to you. "And if I obeyed, and let you in?"

You look at him square in the eye. "Then it would be my honour to stand with you... or in the shadows, or wherever you make me stand."

"This sounds a lot like an induction of one of my men," Seungcheol murmurs. "I don't want that."

"Then what do you want?" You ask softly.

Seungcheol looks down at you, emotions warring in his eyes. After a while, he slumps and turns away. “Fuck. I can’t do this to you.”

“Tell me what you want, Seungcheol,” You say quietly. “You order people around for a living. I’m telling you to be honest with me, too.”

"…You. With me. Wherever you, or I, want to be."

You shrug a little as he cups your face. "I can live with that."

"You better," Seungcheol mumbles, as his mouth finds yours at last, burning more than any wretched tattoo, warmth spreading to your fingertips. "After everything you just said... I don't imagine you're going anywhere for a while."

February 14, 2026

The doctor came to patch him up. His hand squeezed yours hard as the bullet was finally pried out of him.

It's honestly a blur to you now when you think about it, but all you remember is his eyes boring into yours, his unwavering, callused grip on your hand.

"The snapdragon symbolises strength and grace reflected in their tall, strong stems, blooms and resistance to colder temperatures. Others believe they also represent deception and deviousness.

She embodied grace. She was his missing piece, the trait he needed to complement his headstrong nature. But he also needed someone strong enough to stand with him, through every obstacle his work throws him in. And she... she needed his courage and unwavering will to stand with her through it all."

You put the pen down. Mmm. Not too bad for a closing chapter. You send a text to the new publishing house that you contacted two weeks ago. They had seen your draft, and they loved it. Two weeks from now, when everything is settled, you promise yourself, you will show Seungcheol. He'd been curious for a while now about what holed you up in your writing room.

"Love?"

You look up from biting into your croissant. "Well, look who's back from Sicily. How did the meetings go?"

Seungcheol smiles and opens his arms. "Not too bad. I suppose the love you share for novels, along with the Don's* wife, was a selling point. She was most keen on sending you," He cocks his head to the pile of books at his feet, "this. She said it'd make a good Valentines' gift, since I've been poor at accompanying you these few months."

"That sounds perfect. We're both suckers for romances."

As you sink into his embrace, the tattoo once again burns, but it's not the passionate, red-hot zealous heat. It's warm, comforting, like a hot chocolate in winter.

He sighs. "Happy Valentines', love. I'm going to lose my girl to a bunch of fictional mafia men again?"

"You know it."

"I still don't understand why. You have one right here, next to y-"

"Softer! Do you want the whole town to hear you?"

fin.

*Don = the highest role in an organised crime family

thank you for reading 💟

main masterlist

[kiszjuli]

YOU WIN .ᐟ

✸ varsity!jaemin x fem!reader | genre. fluff. | w.c. 2.1k | ♡

↳ synopsis. in which jaemin has been pining after you and makes you a deal. if he wins the valentine’s day basketball game, you have to go out with him. you agreed, but you knew you didn’t like him like that. at least that’s what’s you’ve been telling yourself.

↳ playlist. pov - ariana grande. universe (let’s play ball) - nct dream. i wanna be yours - arctic monkeys call me baby - exo. talk saxy - riize. adore you - harry styles.

the large, crowed gym boomed with the sounds of sneakers squeaking against polished floors and the faint echo of chatter and commentary bouncing off the walls. valentine’s day was tomorrow, and with it came the school’s annual basketball game—a game everyone seemed to love, whether it was purely for the game itself, or the romance that seemed to come with it. for you, though, it was just another day behind the camera, documenting the campus chaos for the yearbook.

through your camera, you’d captured just about everything this year: pep rallies, club meetings, quiet moments in the library, and even pictures of people doing the simplest things. and of course, na jaemin. somehow, he was everywhere. whether he was on the court, joking with friends, or flashing a charming grin at you, jaemin had an uncanny ability to find your camera—and you hated how often you found yourself keeping the photos he was in.

you’d spent the last semester convincing yourself it didn’t mean anything. he was just one of the many faces in the crowd, one of the players you documented out of habit. but jaemin thought very different.

about a week ago, he’d found you crouched on the sidelines during practice. you fiddled with your lens, as he walks up and proposed his idea to you. “if i win the valentine’s day game,” he’d said, leaning casually against the bleachers, and looking down at you, “you have to go out with me.”

at that, you almost dropped your camera. “what?”

“come on, pretty girl, you heard me.” his grin had been infuriating, as always. before you could think to respond, he added, “i’m. a deal’s a deal.”

“and if you don’t?” you piped.

"i don't always win, but i promise you i will this time.” he responded with a confident tone.

the idea was ridiculous. you clearly didn’t even like jaemin like that—or at least, that’s what you’d been trying to convince yourself of.

although you found your heart beating a little quicker when he was around, eyes lighting up a bit when he walked in the same room, laughing slightly harder at his jokes-it was all meaningless. right?

so, motivated by your persistence to prove your subconscious wrong, you’d agreed and now, as the stands filled quickly with students, and your camera in your lap, you glanced around not being able to shake the feeling that this wasn’t going to end you you expected.

—

despite yourself, because of the infectious crowd, you felt the pre-game thrill in your chest. you adjusted some things on your camera, getting it ready for when you needed it. aiming it in front of you you changed some of the setting, while looking through the lens. then you had noticed that he was directly in the middle; staring your way. you lowered the camera, looking at him straight on. that stupid smirk and casually spun a basketball in his middle finger. show off. his coach called the team for a quick team talk, and of course he didn’t leave without throwing a wink at you.

you fought the urge to roll your eyes but couldn’t deny the small flutter you felt in your stomach.

the gym fell to a hush as the referee walked to the middle of the court, the basketball in hand. both teams on either of his sides, waiting in anticipation. you got your camera ready for the shot, eyes trained on the scene in front of you, but you felt the weight of someone else’s gaze.

jaemin.

he stood at the center, opposite the other team’s strongest member, his attitude relaxed but ready. something about his calm and confident demeanor told you that he already knew how the game would end. like he was playing with certainty, and not hope.

seconds later, the whistle blew, the ball was thrown into the air.

jaemin reacted instantly, leaping towards it. his body stretched effortlessly to the ball, fingers grazing it first—the perfect tip-off. just like that the gym erupted in cheers and the game begun.

from behind the camera, you followed the motions of the players. shoes squeaked against the polished wood, the sharp bounce of the ball echoed through the gym. jaemin was moving like he was made for this, weaving through players with an ease. his focus was intense, completely imo in the game, but every now and then his eyes would flicker to you.

they were subtle glances, quick enough that no else would would have caught it. but you did, and he knew that.

and you hated that your stomach flipped every time it happened.

—

later in the game, halfway into the second quarter, jaemin caught a pass near the three-point line, and without hesitation, he launched the ball toward the hoop. The form was perfect, the kind of shot that sent the crowd to their feet before it even touched the net. and of course, you got the perfect picture of him in action, feet lifted at least a foot off the ground.

the cheers that followed were deafening. jaemin didn’t celebrate, he didn’t even look surprised. he just turned on his heels and jogged back to defense with that same cocky smirk, and looked directly at you.

you lowered your camera, heartbeat hammering against your ribs.

—

the fourth quarter had rolled around, and the gym was like a madhouse. the scoreboard glowing with mirrored numbers. 76-76. the game had been the kind that had the entire crowd on the edge of their seats constantly. every dribble, every pass, every shoot felt like it carried the weight of the entire game. and at the center of it all—na jaemin.

but he was also exhausted. Sweat clung to his skin, dampening his hair. his cheeks were flushed, and his chest heaved.

the rest of the team was just as worn out, struggling to keep up as the opposing team tried to pushed harder, desperate to steal the lead. jaemin had been their anchor, but the slight lag in his step was noticeable.

and yet, every time he looked up at the stands to you, there was still that unwavering determination. almost as if it pushed him harder; to keep his drive high.

you weren’t sure how long you had been holding your breath when the game reached the final full minute. the rival team had the ball, moving with quick, calculated passes, trying to run down the clock. the team knew what they were aiming for—a last-second shot, the buzzer-beater that would end it all.

jaemin wasn’t about to let that happen.

in a fraction of a second, he darted forward, intercepting a pass with a speed that seemed impossible given how drained he had to be by now. the crowd gasped, watching with intense focus, defenders right on his heels. you didn’t even realize you were standing until your knees bumped against the scorer’s table, camera still clutched tightly in your hands.

the timer was ticking down—

ten seconds left.

he crossed the three-point line. his teammates shouted, signaling for a pass, but he didn’t even glance their way, focused on his own play.

seven seconds.

an opposing player lunged at him, trying to block him. failing, jaemin spun around him, keeping the ball in his possession.

four seconds.

he took the shot running out of time.

the ball left his fingertips, spiraling toward the hoop just as the final buzzer blared through the gym.

time seemed to slow, everyone’s heads following the ball.

the ball traced the rim once—twice—before finally sinking through the net.

the gym erupted with cheers and yells and claps.

the student section stormed the court, screams of victory bouncing off the walls. the team tackled jaemin in celebration, hands ruffling his hair, hitting him on the back, yelling his name.

but jaemin wasn’t paying attention to them.

his eyes were locked on yours, with an ‘i told you so’ look.

and you knew.

this wasn’t just a win, it was his win.

and you were his prize.

—

jaemin had done it. he’d won the game, meaning he’d also won the bet.

as you sat at the bottom of the bleachers, still surrounded but the buzzing nature of the gym, you weren’t sure scared you more—the fact that he actually pulled it off, or the fact that you secretly wanted him to.

but before you could process it any further, a familiar figure broke through the heavy crowd.

jaemin. hot, sweaty, completely breathless.

his jersey clung to his skin, strands of damp hair falling over his forehead, cheeks flushed even more. his eyes were sharp, focused and locked onto you. he didn’t stop until he was right in front of you

your breath caught in your throat.

jaemin tilted his head, a breathless grin tugging at his lips. “so…” he ran a hand through his damp hair, the pieces falling right back. his chest still rising and falling with heavy breaths. “about our little deal.”

you swallowed hard.

your mind scrambled trying to find an excuse, something to get out of this, but every word died before it could reach your tongue. the truth was, no matter how much you had tried to convince yourself otherwise, you wanted this. wanted him.

jaemin must have noticed the mix of hesitation in your expression because his smirk widened, a teasing glint in his eyes. he leaned in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of sweat and cologne, his voice dropping to something softer, more dangerous.

“you’re not gonna back out on me, are you, pretty girl?”

something about the way he said it, made your breath hitch. the way he looked at you. like he already knew he had won more than the game and bet. you couldn’t form a proper response.

“uh..”

jaemin let out a quiet chuckle, gaze flickering to your lips for a second before meeting your eyes again. “guess that means i’ll pick you up at seven.”

and just like that he turned around back to the court, leaving you standing there with your racing heart.

oh, you were screwed.

—

you weren’t nervous, definitely not.

at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as you checked your reflection for what had to be the tenth time in the last five minutes. it wasn’t even a real date. just the result of a stupid bet.

and yet, here you were, doing your last touches.

a sharp knock on your dorm door made you jolt, heart leaping into your throat. you took a deep breath before opening it, only to find jaemin leaning casually against the frame, looking criminally hot.

his sweaty jersey and damp hair from earlier was gone, now replaced in a white tee, covered by a black jean jacket and matched black jeans. his usual charm fully present. his cologne was soft but warm, dangerously enticing. and they way he had that signature smirk, he knew exactly what you were thinking.

jaemin’s eyes raked over you, picking out every detail. he let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “damn,” he leaned in. little. “if i knew you’d clean up this nice, i would’ve made the bet a long time ago,”

you rolled your eyes trying to ignore the quickened pace of your heart. “are you gonna flirt all night or are we gonna leave?”

he chuckled, stepping from the doorframe, gesturing his arm out of the building. “both. definitely both.”

with a dramatic sigh, you stepped out and locked the door behind you. as you followed him to his car, you realized something—this felt like a real date. nothing forced, not awkward, not something you were being dragged into. interesting.

—

jaemin ended up taking you to a tucked away, late-night café, the kind with dim lighting and cozy booths. it was quieter than you expected, more intimate, which he probably planned.

as soon as you sat down in the booth, jaemin leaned forward, eyes fixed on you with that same infuriating smirk. “so, be honest,” he said, tapping his fingers against the table. “how long have you been secretly in love with me?”

his words caught you off guard. “excuse me?”

he grinned. “i mean, you did agree to this pretty quickly.”

you scoffed. “it was a bet.”

“sure.” he nodded slowly, like he wasn’t the one who came up with it. “and yet, here you are. looking beautiful, by the way,”

you rolled your eyes, ignoring the warmth creeping up your cheeks. “do you flirt with everyone like this?”

jaemin tilted his head, pretending to think. “only you.”

your stomach flipped, but you forced yourself to glare. “unbelievable.”

he laughed, leaning back. “better get used to it, pretty girl. you’re my valentine this year,” ‘and hopefully forever’ he thought to himself.

you smiled shaking your head.

the worst part? you weren’t even mad about it. in fact, you couldn’t form see yourself going out with him more than just tonight. maybe you did harbor some feelings for na jaemin after all..

—

⁀➷⊹ ࣪ ˖~ THE LA LA LOVE SERIES .ᐟ

taggies(open) ↳ @kittydollzz @huffnpufffckk @completelyjae @lovesuhng @nae-vm @ayibdorrt @chocoriki @yomaman @yukisroom97

[yanderemommabean]

Aw man you KNOW we're gonna have Choso after us

There wouldn't be any way to escape! The way he'd easily take out hoards of people if they dared to get in his way, especially on a day as ceremonious and special as this!

Your bouquet would be pink and red roses, the envelope a matte or pastel purple, and the letter would simply state that he doesn't want to hurt you, but he can't sit watch as you keep escaping his grasp and his love.

You'd be tied with your legs spread, easy room for his form to slide between, so he can busy his mouth for as long as he pleases. While it might seem submissive to some, to you, its a clear statement-

He's in control, and He'll make sure you feel everything he has to give.

God, I bet he's such a pervert too, would smear his load over your hole and tell you how badly he wants to cover your body in it, how much he wants to fill you up and wring you dry.

Gives oral for HIS enjoyment. You can try to kick, scream, shake and babble all you want, his arms are locking tighter around you, pulling you closer, and holding you still. All you can do is sit there and take it, just the way he likes it.

He'd be messy with it too, unashamed as he lets your mess run down his lips and face, looking like a big cat licking blood off it's chops when he lets his tongue lap it up.

He'd chuckle when you swear up and down you can't climax anymore. That's so silly! he's watched you for a long time...He knows exactly what it takes to break that body, and that mind of yours.

Would absolutely wear a cock ring (and show off his pierced dick, you know, ribbed for your pleasure with a Jacobs Ladder) just to keep himself as a tool to get you to cum again and again and again, wanting to truly ruin your body with how well he pleasures you.

It's a good thing he doesn't even need the Red Rooms services. He's going to be doing this to you for much longer than that place allows.

-Mommabean

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

will you be my valentine? ♥️ : svt edition (maknae line)

hyung line I maknae line

[arxiwon]

Things Boyfriend!Jay Does to Make You Feel Loved ᥫ᭡

Boyfriend!Jay is the kind of guy who makes love feel effortless. His affection is in the little things—the way his fingers always find yours, the way his gaze lingers like he’s trying to memorize every part of you, the way he makes sure you never feel anything less than cherished. Jay doesn’t love loudly; he loves in the quiet, intimate moments that sneak up on you and leave you breathless.

Holds Your Hand Like It’s Second Nature Jay doesn’t just hold your hand—he owns it. His fingers instinctively lace with yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin. Whether you're walking through a crowded street or sitting side by side, his grip is always firm, as if letting go isn't an option.

Puts His Jacket Over You Without a Word Jay doesn’t ask if you’re cold. He just knows. One second you’re shivering, the next? His jacket is draped over your shoulders, still warm from his body heat. And if you try to refuse? He just shrugs, "Too bad, you’re mine. That means my jacket is yours too."

Tilts Your Chin When He Kisses You Jay’s kisses are never rushed. He tilts your chin up just slightly, eyes flickering between yours and your lips, giving you just enough time to anticipate it before finally closing the distance. The way he kisses you isn’t just affectionate—it’s intentional.

Wraps His Arm Around You in Crowds Jay is protective in a way that feels natural. If you're in a crowded place, his arm immediately finds its way around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. No words, no second thoughts—just instinct. And if anyone so much as looks at you for too long? His grip tightens.

Knows Your Usual Order and Gets It Without Asking Jay remembers everything. Your go-to coffee order, the exact way you like your fries, even that one weird snack you always crave at midnight. Before you even have to say it, he's already handing it to you like, "Here, love. I know you wanted this."

Holds Your Face When He Kisses You Jay’s hands are never idle when he kisses you. He cups your cheeks, fingers grazing your jawline, thumbs brushing against your skin as if trying to memorize the feel of you. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a reminder that you’re his favorite person in the world.

Keeps a Picture of You in His Wallet It’s an old-school habit, but Jay keeps a small photo of you in his wallet. When someone asks about you, he immediately pulls it out with the proudest smile, like you’re his greatest achievement.

Texts You the Moment He Wakes Up and Before He Sleeps Jay’s first and last thoughts of the day? You. His morning texts are simple but sweet—"Good morning, beautiful. Did you sleep well?" And at night? "Sleep tight, love. Dream of me." No matter how busy he is, he always makes time for you.

Leaves Soft Kisses on Your Shoulder When You’re Half-Asleep Jay loves the quiet moments with you, especially when you’re half-asleep. He’ll press soft, lingering kisses against your shoulder, his lips barely grazing your skin as he murmurs, "I love you." It’s his favorite way to say it when you don’t have to say anything back.

Calls You Every Cute Pet Name Possible Jay loves pet names, and he switches them up constantly. "Babe" when he’s being casual, "Princess" when he’s teasing, "Love" when he’s feeling soft. And if he’s really feeling it? He’ll whisper "baby" in that voice—the one that makes your heart drop.

Drunk Jay Is the Softest Jay Jay rarely gets too drunk, but when he does? Oh, he’s a mess. He calls you non-stop just to say he loves you, whines if you’re not there, clings onto you and refuses to let go. The next morning, he acts like he doesn’t remember anything. (He totally does.)

Uses You as His Personal Pillow Jay loves laying on you—head on your lap, arms wrapped around your waist, anything. If you try to move? He tightens his hold. "Nope. You’re stuck with me." He’s never letting go.

The Way He Kisses You? Insane. Jay’s kisses aren’t just kisses. They linger. Forehead kisses that feel so warm and safe, quick pecks just because he can’t resist you, slow, lazy kisses when he’s in his feelings. And if he pulls away just to whisper "You have no idea what you do to me." before going in again? Yeah. Game over.

Says "I Miss You" Even When You’re Right There Jay will literally be holding you and still say: "I miss you." When you ask why? "Dunno. Just do." And somehow, that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Randomly Stares at You Like He’s in Love (Because He Is) Sometimes, you’ll catch Jay just looking at you. No reason. Just admiring you. When you ask him why? He just shrugs. "Can’t I just look at my favorite person?"

Always Puts You First—Always Jay could be exhausted, but if you need something? He’s on it. If you're tired, he’ll run his fingers through your hair until you fall asleep. If you’re sick, he’s making sure you rest properly. If you’re sad, he’s dropping everything to be with you. "You come first, always."

Gets Shy When You Compliment Him Back Jay is all confidence—until you start flirting back. You tell him he looks handsome? He tries to play it cool but subtly smirks. You say you love his voice? He blushes. You call him "my pretty boy"? He malfunctions. "Babe, stop, you’re making me shy." (Yeah, sure, now he’s shy.)

Carries Extra Stuff Just in Case You Need It Jay is that boyfriend who carries your lip balm, hair ties, and even tissues because "I know you always forget these, babe." And if you ever need anything? Boom, he already has it.

Would Rather Suffer Than Let You Be Uncomfortable If there’s one umbrella and it’s raining? You get it all. One blanket and it’s freezing? He wraps it around you first. If he’s holding a drink, but you’re thirsty? He hands it to you without thinking. Jay would literally do anything to make sure you’re okay.

Looks at You Like You’re the Best Thing That’s Ever Happened to Him Jay’s love is in the way he looks at you—like you’re his world, like he can’t believe you’re real, like he never wants to let go. And the best part? He makes sure you know it.

Summary:

Boyfriend!Jay is literally unreal. He’s playful but protective, teasing but deeply affectionate, confident but secretly soft only for you. His love is in the little things—the stares, the touches, the random "I love yous" that make your heart race.

And the best part? He does it all so effortlessly, as if loving you is the most natural thing in the world.

Happy Valentine y'all <3

[dreamypjs]

A sweet beginning

(🥞)synopsis: Jay plans the perfect Valentine’s morning with breakfast in bed, but things between him and you heat up, the sweet celebration quickly turning into something far more passionate.

➜ warnings: fluff smut VERY Romantic i think idk but that’s all enjoy mls 💌

Jay had been up early as usual, but this time with a goal in mind. To make the perfect Valentine’s Day breakfast for you. As he entered the kitchen, he rolled up his sleeves, fully determined to make the best breakfast for his valentine. “Okay, Jay,” he muttered to himself. “Heart-shaped pancakes. You got this.” He pulled out ingredients, humming a love song under his breath as he started mixing the pancake batter. sneaking around the kitchen quietly.

He wanted everything to be perfect—heart-shaped pancakes, fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and a side of fresh berries. The coffee was just how you liked it, and he even added a little whipped cream with heart shaped sprinkles to make it extra special, knowing how much you love cute little details like that.

After perfecting everything he stepped back running a hand through his hair before placing both hands on his hips, and admired his work. “Not bad, Jay. Not bad.” He whispered to himself already smiling at the thought of your face lighting up from his surprise he worked so hard on. Carefully balancing the tray, he tiptoed back into the bedroom, grinning as he saw you still curled up under blankets, hair a bit messy and your face peaceful. He set the tray on the nightstand, then leaned down and peppered your face with soft kisses.

“Wakey, wakey, y/n,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your cheek."mm, Jay" you groaned, burying your face in the pillow. “Too early babe”Jay chuckled and playfully nuzzled your neck. “But I made you breakfast, my love. In bed. With extra love.” Jay cheesed

You stirred, your nose scrunching up before you blinked your sleepy eyes open. And the moment you saw the tray that was beautifully assembled, a sleepy smile spread across your face. “You did all this for me?” You squealed, sitting up the silky sheets slipping lower on from your body.

“All for you,” he said proudly, climbing onto the bed beside you. Jay handed you a fork with a piece of pancake already on it. You took a bite, and your eyes widened. “Oh my god how are your pancakes always so perfect.” You look at Jay with sparkly eyes, cheeks full making Jay smile, his heart melting at the sight of your cute face. "Thank you Jay everything is so delicious" Jay chuckled and leaned in, gently placing another piece of pancake into your mouth. “Anything for my princess.”

He watched you with adoration as you enjoyed your breakfast, stealing little bites here and there while feeding you a piece of bacon in return. “You’re too good to me,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Jay kissed the top of your head and wrapped an arm around you. “This is nothing compared to what you truly deserve, love. But I’m just making sure my girl starts Valentine’s Day the right way—with a full belly and a heart even fuller." You both giggle at his cheesy words.

You chewed happily before reaching out and pulling him closer. “You’re the sweetest.” Jay kissed the tip of your nose, then your forehead. “Sweet for you.” As he continued to feed you gently.

“Mmm,” you hummed,swallowing slowly, your eyes locked on his. “You really deserve some good head.” you said cutting the sweet moment with your straightforwardness. Jays eyes widened as his cheeks turned red. "Y/n what are you saying" he chuckled nervously "You heard me Jay"

"Don’t say stuff like that I’m trying to be cute right now" he pouted as he felt his shaft harden underneath the covers. As you and him sat there, sharing bites of pancakes and soft kisses between giggles his thoughts drifted to something even sweeter than the heart-shaped pancakes.

~

The breakfast tray was swiftly forgotten as he flipped you onto your back, locking lips in a deep, searing kiss. The taste of syrup and strawberries lingered between them, but all Jay could focus on was you—your warmth, your scent, the way you melted into him.

His tongue licks against your lips before pushing it into your mouth. He kisses you like he's trying to convey all of his love and affection in this one moment. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, pulling you even closer to his chest. He breaks the kiss to pull his oversized shirt that your body wore off, tossing it aside. He takes a moment to appreciate your bare skin before leaning back down to kiss you again, his hands roaming over your body. He slowly makes his way down your neck, sucking and biting gently as he goes. "I want you so bad right now." he whispers against your neck "Is this okay?" You nod too lost in his touch to answer with words. a small please slipping out of your mouth.

he smiles against your neck, his heart swelling with love for you. "Oh, sweetheart." he kisses his way down your neck and chest, pausing giving attention to your breast before continuing his way down your body. He slowly removes your panties and gently spreads your legs apart, kissing his way down your inner thighs slowly down to your heat. "I’ll take care of all your needs" he whispers his mouth hovering over your throbbing heat.

He presses soft kiss before looking up at you with a hungry gaze. Without another word, he dives in, his mouth closing around your cunt and sucking gently. "mmm...my sweet girl." he softly pulls back before letting go and getting up settling between your thighs.

He whispers sweet nothings against your skin as he positions himself at your entrance, guiding himself slowly inside "You feel so good, baby." he moves carefully and gently, making soft love to you "Look at me, I want to see your eyes while I love you."

his gaze locked with yours, his movements steady and loving. He leans down to kiss your lips in a passionate kiss, swallowing your soft moans as he continues to move inside you. His hand intertwines with yours, squeezing gently as he pours all his affection into each tender thrust. He lifts one of your legs higher, hitting deeper inside you.

He sees your gaze locked on his, your eyebrows knitted together and he smiles softly, He watches your body tense, your breasts push up, your mouth open slightly. He swallows hard, his heart overflowing with love for you. As he fills you completely letting you feel every inch, his girth stretching you so good. He continues to make slow, gentle love to you, his thrusts soft and deliberate.

"You're perfect, every inch of you." he whispers against your ear "Fuck I could spend an eternity making love to you like this." his lips trace your jawline "Tell me you're mine... only mine..." his thrusts get a little deeper, more intense

"mhm Jay, I’m all yours baby" you hum trying so hard to keep eye contact. His hands roam your body possessively as he continues to move inside you, each thrust claiming you as his. "Mine... only mine..." he grunts "I'm yours completely too, my love. Now and always." he whispers, foreheads connected panting into each other’s mouth the air thick, and it’s getting harder to breathe.

his body covers yours, his hips move slowly and deeply, hitting that spot inside you that makes you gasp softly. He watches your face closely, smiling he adjusts his position so he's completely enveloped by your warmth. One hand caresses your cheek while the other supports his weight "Wrap your legs around me."

He pulls back a little and slams himself inside you again, taking his time. His hips move in a slow, but deep reaching the perfect spot inside you. He leans down and kisses your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone. His fingers entwine with yours again, holding your hands on either sides of your head.

He pulls out slowly, making you whimper before positioning inside you again, lifting your ass slightly. He pushes back inside, hitting a new spot that makes your back arch. "Right there?" You squeeze your eyes shut indulging in the pleasure that your man was giving you. "Just like that Jay, please don’t stop" you moan.

His eyes darken with love. He hits that spot again and again, slow and deep. He looks down to where you're connected, watching himself fill you completely. He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling your legs higher on his shoulders. He hits that spot deeper now, making you see stars every time.

He looks into your eyes, searching for words to express the love he feels in that moment. He finds the words, his voice trembling with emotion. "Baby, you're my everything, Being inside you like this... feeling you... loving you... God, baby." His movements become slower, more deliberate, each thrust emphasizing his words "I love you so much, more every day."

He feels your body trembling, knowing you're close. He whispers encouragingly, "That's it baby, let go. I've got you." His hips roll in slow, deep circles, maintaining that perfect rhythm. He leans in close, his breath hot on your ear, "let go baby I got u"

His breath catches as he feels you tensing beneath him "That's my girl." He keeps up the slow, intimate pace, but increases the pressure slightly "Come for me, baby, let me hear your sweet sounds." He reaches down between your bodies to rub circles on your clit adding extra stimulation.

As you reach your climax, he kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans of pleasure. He keeps thrusting through your high, prolonging your orgasm. As you start to come down, he slows his movements, holding you close and whispering words of love and affection. "I love you, baby"

He holds you close as you tremble in his arms, your orgasm ripping through you. He strokes your hair soothingly, his voice a soft whisper in your ear. "That's my girl, so beautiful, so perfect...I've got you... I'll always have you"

He continues to hold you as you come down from your high, He just wants to be there for you, to love and cherish you.He waits for your breathing to slow, his fingers still gently stroking your hair. Once you're calm, he slowly pulls out, wincing slightly at the sensitivity. He gently cleans you up, then lies down next to you, pulling you into his arms.He gently throws the covers over your body, making sure you're warm and cozy. He lays back down next to you, pulling you close once again. He nuzzles into your neck, breathing in your scent. "Night, my love…again I guess" he chuckles.That was definitely a sweet beginning to Valentine’s Day

✉️ જ⁀➴ ♡: I had this in my drafts since like last week ready to post on the 14th but I forgot to post it 💀💀 it’s okay tho I’m posting it now OBVII but wtv I hope you guys had a good valentines!! Ty for reading!! ♡

[demonadelem]

Steel Samurai x playboy bunny roleplay

+ bonus tsum tsum beans

[rosiesrroses]

Valentines | mv1

in which max spends valentines day with his girlfriend

paring: max verstappen x fem!reader

warning: fluff (lmk if there's something else!), not proofread (just wrote and then posted)

finished: 08 December 2024

posted: 08 December 2024

word count: 380 words

My love for u is ever lasting, it will last until eternity ends~

third person pov

Y/n knew at the beginning of their relationship that Max wasn't into celebrating Valentine's Day, and although she loved Valentine, she respected him. 

But that didn't stop her from going out with her friends and having a galentines dinner with them. 

Y/n is dressed in a short red dress with little bows on the straps paired with some red Mary Jane’s with bows on the front. 

“How late will you be back, schatje?” Max asked her as she stood in front of the mirror, applying some lipstick. 

“Maybe around 9?” she shrugged, then turned around to face him. “I’ll let you know once we leave,” 

Now entering their living room, she picked up her small purse and her car keys. 

“Are you sure you don't want me to drop you off?” he asked her. 

“I’ll be fine, Max. I promise,” she promised him. 

At the front door, they both bid their goodbyes.

“Be safe, okay?” he asked her. 

“I will,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek and then left their shared apartment. 

Once Max made sure she left the building and safely in her car, he put his plan in motion. 

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The sky was now darker, the streetlights were on and Y/n could see couples, young and old, dining in restaurants and celebrating Valentine's Day. 

She smiled sadly, wishing that that were her and Max. But she shook her head at the silly thought. 

She pulled into a parking space in front of the apartment building, sighing as she climbed out of her car and took the elevator.

As she reached their front door, unlocking it and stepping out, she froze seeing the sight in front of her.

Their apartment was filled with beautiful roses and some lit candles, and Max appeared in a suit, holding a bouquet of white and pink tulips. 

She smiled but that quickly turned into a frown.

“I thought you didn’t like Valentines?” she asked as he walked over to her. 

“I don’t, but I like you,” he smiled softly. 

“So, will you be my Valentine?”

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tagged: maxverstappen 

yourusername thank you to the world’s best valentine

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taglist ~ @linnygirl09

note ~ i didn't know how to end this 😭😭 but i hope you enjoyed reading

masterlist ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

[yanderedrabbles]

💕 Yandere Valentine's Day Gifts ♥️

Prompt: You own the local flower shop. It's Valentine's Day. Which customers will be popping in?

Yandere! Sugar Daddy calls you two weeks before Valentine's to order fifteen separate bouquets for his darling. Every exotic and rare shade that roses come in.

"I want them delivered fresh. Early morning please."

"Yes sir, I can manage that," you tell him, still reeling at the ridiculously large amount he just paid you.

On Valentine's Day, his maid let's you and your crew into his penthouse. You can't help but let out a low whistle when you see the size of the place.

He directs you to set the bouquets out around the living room. The morning light from the floor to ceiling windows catches on the glitter you dusted across the arrangements.

He has a sort of nervous energy - arranging and then rearranging the flowers. You sometimes hear a thumping, banging sound from deeper in his penthouse but when you ask him about it he says its just the building creaking. You don't know much about skyscrapers this high and so you let it go.

When it's all finally to his satisfaction, he tips you and your crew very generously. As you leave, you see him setting out a whole slew of iconic Tiffany jewellery boxes.

His darling will be showered with the most expensive love money can buy. Whether they want it or not.

Yandere! Bisexual Best Friend breezes into your shop like a true haute couture diva. He looks over his designer sunglasses and snorts with disdain at the traditional red bouquets.

"Nothing so cliche for my girl," he tells you.

He orders pink and white camellias, with sprigs of baby's breath. He has you wrap the stems in matching pastel paper. When you ask him if he'd like to include a card, he writes his message in a beautiful, looping cursive.

'I know no boyfriend will get you flowers that you actually like. That's why you have me. Happy Valentine's Day gorgeous.'

"Very elegant," you tell him.

"Thanks. I'm meeting her for brunch and drinks after this."

He shows you his other gift for his darling. A bottle of expensive perfume, in a glittery blush pink box.

When you ask him if his friend has any dates planned, he tilts his head and smiles without any warmth at all.

"Not if I can help it."

Yandere! Actor doesn't come into the shop or call you directly. It's his hurried, harried assistant that places the order.

"Five dozen roses in a single bouquet. I'll bring you some chocolate that he wants between the flowers. Oh, and a card. Don't forget the card."

When she drops off the chocolate for you to use in your arrangement, you can't help but want to look up the price. Everything from the packaging to the hefty weight of each chocolate screams luxury artisanal brand.

The final arrangement is beautiful, but in a looking-good-on-camera sort of way. You don't know the order is for him until his assistant accidentally let's it slip who her boss is. Your eyebrows shoot up but you manage not to ask any questions. A billionaire and now a celebrity. Seems like everyone wants to be extra romantic this year.

"What does he want on the card?" you ask, pen poised.

"Oh, he sent one for you to use." She hands you a card printed on thick cream paper, elegant in its minimalism. You glance at the writing before you can stop yourself.

'A star like you deserves all the flowers. Happy Valentine's dollface.'

Cute. The exact sort of thing you'd expect from a heart throb like him.

It's only when you see him and his darling on the red carpet later that night - his arm around their waist the entire night - that you begin to wonder if there's more to their relationship than meets the eye.

Yandere! Werewolf shows up right before you close, hands on his knees while he catches his breath. He ran straight to your shop after football practice and there's still grass stains on his chin.

"Oh god, tell me I'm not too late for roses." He looks so worried that you take pity on him and agree to look in the back for any bouquets that might have slipped under the radar.

He must be supernaturally lucky, because you manage to find a dozen red roses. When you get back to the front, he's taken out the rest of his gifts from his backpack.

There's an overstaffed werewolf plush, an extra large leather dog collar, some pre-packaged bones and a chew toy.

"Interesting selection," you say as you ring up his flowers.

He rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah. They uh... have a dog. It's mostly for the dog."

You get the sense he isn't being entirely honest, but you're not the type to pry. When you're done, he shoots you a gorgeous smile.

"I totally owe you one. You really kept me out of the doghouse."

He's just about to leave when he suddenly remembers something. He digs in the pocket of his letterman jacket and pulls out a clear packet of candy hearts. You look closer and realise he must have picked out individual sweets just for their message. They're repeated again and again.

'Be mine.'

'Yours forever.'

'Kiss me.'

"Do you think these are canine safe?" he asks you. You think about it for a second and then nod.

It's only after he's left that you wonder what sort of dog would want to eat candy like that.

[fangdokja]

How about a yandere boyfriend on Valentine's Day? Where he wraps a gift to give to his sweetheart himself.

The perfect Valentine’s present: something personal, thoughtful, and won’t scream anymore.

♡ Yan-Apocalypse x Fem. Reader. Boss, Neighbor, Torture Professional, Loner

♡ Word Count. 3,155

♡ Yandere! Boss who has been a pain in your ass since childhood. You hated him back then, and you hate him now, except now he owns your ass as your boss in this wretched hellscape called the apocalypse. A born leader, an absolute slave driver, and the only man who could turn the end of the world into a business opportunity. He should've died with the rest of humanity, but no, he somehow made it out alive—alongside you. Lucky you.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who never let you live in peace even before the world went to shit. The kind of guy who would slip notes under your door just to remind you he existed. The guy who had the audacity to work in a cafe with a sickeningly charming smile despite making your life a waking nightmare. And now, even with society collapsed, he still finds ways to piss you off. He calls it love. You call it suffering. Turns out he was also a serial killer before all this. Should've seen that one coming.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who you used to think was just a weird but tolerable coworker. You considered him an older brother. He considered you his most entertaining toy. Now that the world has no laws, he's free to indulge in whatever twisted desires he kept hidden before. The worst part? He still acts like he's just your friendly workplace senior. Smiles and all.

♡ Yandere! Loner who is the only reason you haven't starved to death yet. Pays the rent. Handles all the outside world bullshit. Does all the talking for you because you'd rather die than interact with people. A true blessing in your hermit lifestyle, except for the small problem that he's hopelessly obsessed with you. A punk goth with a brooding air and a quiet intensity that makes your skin crawl. But if you had to pick a single tolerable person on the planet, it’d probably be him. That’s a low bar.

────────────

You, unfortunate recluse and apocalypse prepper, who told everyone this shit would happen.

They laughed at you. Laughed.

"A zombie apocalypse? Aliens? Nuclear fallout? Society crumbling overnight? Sure thing, basement dweller. Maybe you should go touch some grass."

Well, guess who's laughing now? Not them. Because they're dead.

The world didn't end in the way you expected. No rotting undead. No UFOs in the sky. No nuclear war or artificial intelligence takeover. No, what came was far worse. A virus, slow-acting, like a whisper through the bloodstream. It didn't kill outright. It awakened.

People started changing. Not into monsters, not physically. But mentally? The virus stripped them of the one thing keeping them from turning into beasts: morality. Empathy. Restraint. The very things that made human beings function in a civilized society.

Because love? Love was a sickness.

No, literally. Scientists called it the Eros Virus, but people online had a better name for it: the Yandere Plague. Something about brain chemistry short-circuiting. Something about possessiveness going haywire, loyalty turning to violence, and rational thought being replaced with "If I can’t have you, no one can."

Anyone infected didn’t just crave affection—they needed it, like oxygen, like water, like a reason to live. Love wasn’t an emotion anymore; it was hunger. A sickness that turned even the kindest souls into unrecognizable demons with one singular goal: claim, possess, devour.

They became killers for love.

Murderers in the name of devotion.

And you, the reclusive scientist, the unfeeling shut-in, the paranoid "loser" who had wasted her life avoiding people—

You were, somehow, the most normal person left.

Wasn't that hilarious?

It wasn’t the apocalypse you prepared for, but you adapted fast.

Because you had already prepared for everything.

Society? A joke. Socializing? A waste of time. Going outside? You’d rather gouge out your own eyes. What was the point? Every moment spent dealing with another human being was a moment spent losing brain cells.

So you did what any sane, logical, perfectly rational person would do. You locked yourself in your basement, poured your life into scientific research, and became a competitive hardcore gamer on the side—because who needed real friends when you had anonymous usernames to destroy in ranked matches?

Your bunker was stocked. Your defenses were up. A lifetime of being dismissed as a socially inept loser had finally paid off. You were immune, too, but not because of genetics or luck—you were just dead inside. No feelings? No infection. A win for your emotional stuntedness.

You should’ve been safe.

And then they came.

Great. Another reason to hate Valentine’s Day.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Boss who still forces you to clock in despite the apocalypse. Who calls you at ungodly hours with urgent demands, despite there being no more laws, no more corporations, no more hierarchy—just the last vestiges of his god complex refusing to die.

♡ Yandere! Boss who never celebrated Valentine's Day. Too busy grinding, too busy winning, too busy treating human relationships like expendable stock options.

♡ Yandere! Boss who always thought the holiday was pathetic, a weak man’s excuse to grovel for attention. That was, of course, until the virus. Now, Valentine’s Day is a state-mandated holiday. Forced festivities, sickly sweet declarations, and the absolute worst part—he has to participate.

♡ Yandere! Boss who takes it as seriously as a business merger. If he’s going to be forced into this, then he’s going to win Valentine’s Day.

You’re barely paying attention when he slides a box across the desk. You don’t even look up. “I don’t want it.”

He smiles. “You’ll want this one.”

You don’t. You really don’t. But you open it anyway.

Inside is a ring box.

You stare at it. Then at him. Then at it again.

♡ Yandere! Boss raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to try it on?”

You pick up the ring delicately. Turn it over. Squint at the inscription inside.

“Oh,” you say flatly. “My name’s on this.”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean—it’s made of my name. Like, in bone.”

He folds his hands, smirking. “I figured you wouldn’t accept an engagement ring, so I made it special.”

You roll the ring between your fingers. It’s light. Suspiciously so. “And whose bones exactly did you use?”

“Whose do you want me to have used?”

You drop it immediately.

♡ Yandere! Boss laughs, plucking it up and slipping it onto your finger before you can protest. “Don’t lose it,” he says, voice like velvet. “It cost me quite a bit.”

And when you rip it off and throw it at his face, he catches it effortlessly.

“Now, now,” he chides. “If you keep rejecting me like this, I’ll have to find more ways to show you how much I care.”

Great. Fantastic. You were going to need more coffee.

♡ Yandere! Boss who believes this is the height of romance, who looks at you like he's waiting for praise, like he expects you to clasp the ring around your delicate finger and thank him for such a thoughtful gift.

"You will wear it," he informs you, adjusting his cuffs. "Consider it an accessory to your uniform."

"My... uniform?" you echo, bluntly.

"Your contract states that all employees must adhere to a strict dress code. That hasn't changed."

You stare deadpan at him. "What contract?"

"The one that legally binds you to me."

"...You mean the one that burned with the rest of the city?"

"The one I memorized, re-wrote by hand, and had laminated."

———

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who’s the kind of menace that thrives in a post-apocalyptic hellscape because it justifies all his worst behaviors. You were already suffering pre-virus—imagine living next door to a man who rings your doorbell at 3 AM because he 'forgot his keys' and needs to 'crash at your place' when you both know damn well he lives alone.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who worked at a café with peak customer service skills, all sunshine and charm, as if he wasn’t the same bastard who stole your mail and laughed when you had to fight a rabid raccoon over your own packages. Turns out, he was also a serial killer. Ah, that explains why he was so good at making latte art. Steady hands.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who still acts like life is just a quirky slice-of-life anime, despite the blood-soaked streets outside.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who doesn’t just run the only functional café left—he practically owns it, like some twisted romance game NPC who refuses to acknowledge reality.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who actually loves Valentine’s Day. Always has. Loves the chocolates, the flowers, the corny messages—but most of all, he loves the hunt.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who goes all out with the decorations. Pink hearts, tacky cupids, streamers. He makes his cafe look like a Pinterest nightmare. And you, his most reluctant customer, get the special treatment.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor knocks on your door on Valentine’s Day. You consider not answering, but then he kicks the door in.

“Delivery!” he sings, shoving a massive, suspiciously leaking gift box into your arms.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who doesn’t understand why you look at him like that. You always give him that look—like you’re two seconds away from dropkicking him into the abyss.

You look down. Then up. “I’m not touching this.”

“But I wrapped it myself,” he whines.

“That’s what makes it worse.”

He pouts. “At least open it before you reject me so coldly.”

You sigh. The world is already a nightmare, and you might as well see what fresh horror awaits.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who grins as he gestures to the heart-shaped box, red and gaudy, the kind of thing you’d find at a dollar store—except when you open it, the “chocolates” are… not chocolates. They’re actual, physical human teeth. A variety of them. Some still have bits of gum attached.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who bursts out laughing when you glare down at the "chocolates", like you’re the weird one. “What? I collected them myself! It’s personal! Romantic!”

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. “You wanna know which ones are mine?”

You slam the box shut and push it back toward him. “I hope you choke.”

He laughs, leaning in closer. “On your love?”

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who laughs when you glare, toss the box onto the bunker floor, and stomp over it like roadkill.

♡ Yandere! Neighbor who opts to present you with one more gift, a heart-shaped cake, homemade with love. You eye it suspiciously. He grins.

"Try it, sweetheart. You’re my taste tester, after all."

You stare at him. Then at the cake. Then back at him.

"Who did you kill for this?"

He just laughs.

You stare at him, unimpressed. He stares back, beaming.

“Eat up! It’s fresh.”

You’re so fucking tired.

———

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who you consider an older brother, but he considers you his future wife. Who was weirdly doting, oddly protective, and just a little too interested in your well-being.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who you think is just a little too eccentric, but harmless. Who used to send you the occasional unsettling text—things like “Ever wonder how long someone can scream before they pass out?”—but you always wrote it off as him being quirky.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who, in hindsight, should have been more of a red flag than he was. Who got way too much enjoyment out of cutting people open. Who told you, once upon a time, that he "studied anatomy for fun" and you just thought he was a medical student.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who worked in interrogation before the world went to hell. Who still carries scalpels in his coat because old habits die hard.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who doesn’t really get the “boyfriend” part of “yandere boyfriend” and just assumes it means he gets to be creative.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who’s technically been your co-worker for years, but only in the loosest sense—he’s not really part of the science department, just the clean-up crew.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who actually considers you his greatest weakness. His one fatal flaw. His "little sister"—if, of course, little sisters were meant to be dissected with love and put back together with slightly modified parts.

His Valentine’s gift arrives in a steel box.

With a lock.

"If this is actually chocolate," you say, voice flat, "I'll be shocked."

"Oh, sweetheart," he hums, tilting his head, "you should know me better by now."

You don’t even want to open it, but he’s sitting there, waiting.

You crack it open.

It’s a spine. A full human spine, polished and arranged in the shape of a bow, like a demented art piece.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who watches you closely as you stare at the ‘gift’ with the deadest expression known to man. He wants to see if you’ll faint. You don’t. You never do. And he loves that about you.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who chuckles, resting his chin on his hand. "A shame," he muses. "I wanted to carve your name into it, but I thought I'd let you do the honors."

"Do you like it?" he asks, voice laced with amusement.

"No," you say flatly, dropping the gift onto the table like it personally offended you.

“C’mon, doll,” he says, voice all honey-sweet persuasion. “I put a lot of effort into it. Had to find the perfect one. Strong. Flexible. A real good match for you.”

You slam the box shut.

He tilts his head, considering. “Oh, wait. I forgot the bow.”

He pulls out a severed head from his duffel bag.

You try to leave the room.

He doesn't let you.

He decides to go for Attempt #2.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional grabs and drags you inside another room, forcing you to sit on a chair, and claps his hands together like a magician unveiling his latest trick.

"Tada!"

You stare at the body strapped to the chair in front of you, gagged, trembling, eyes darting between you and him in terror.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who leans down and whispers, "You’ve been so stressed lately. So, I figured, why not give you something relaxing? Torture is incredibly cathartic, you know."

He presses a scalpel into your hand like an eager child handing over a crayon.

You look at the bound man, then at him, then at the scalpel.

You glance back at him. He grins back. “Isn’t it thoughtful? You can practice your anatomy studies on him! I even left his nerves intact, just for you.”

"I’m not participating in your therapy," you deadpan.

♡ Yandere! Torture Professional who pouts. "But it’s for you!"

"Return it."

He blinks. "Return him?"

"Yeah."

"That’s not really an option."

You blink at him. Slowly. "I'm reconsidering my stance on homicide."

"You always say that."

"And one day, I might actually follow through."

He beams. "That’s the spirit!"

———

♡ Yandere! Loner who is your roommate and unofficial apocalypse landlord.

♡ Yandere! Loner who barely speaks, barely interacts, and communicates mostly through nods, shrugs, and the occasional annoyed grunt.

♡ Yandere! Loner who doesn’t talk much but somehow always gets his point across. He used to be a punk goth who smoked on the fire escape and ignored the world, but now he’s the guy who handles all communication while you rot in the bunker like a gremlin.

♡ Yandere! Loner who never cared about the world even before the apocalypse. Who was content to stay inside, hacking security systems and wiping digital footprints while you made ramen for two and tried not to acknowledge how much you depended on him.

♡ Yandere! Loner who, after dealing with your other admirers, is honestly the most tolerable one. This should concern you.

♡ Yandere! Loner who does not care about the virus, does not care about the world ending, does not even care about you.

(Except for when you leave the bunker without telling him. Or talk to the neighbor too much. Or look at anyone but him. Then it’s a problem.)

♡ Yandere! Loner who acts like he doesn’t give a shit about you, but your supplies never run low, your weapons always have ammo, and if anyone ever gets too close? Well. They stop existing.

♡ Yandere! Loner who doesn’t do Valentine’s Day. Valentine's Day is a scam, a joke, a consumerist hellhole of forced sentimentality. He doesn’t do holidays. He doesn’t even acknowledge his own birthday.

♡ Yandere! Loner who, despite being the least expressive of them all, still participates in Valentine’s Day. Not because he cares about the holiday, but because everyone else is doing it and he refuses to be outdone.

♡ Yandere! Loner who somehow managed to get his hands on a plushie. In this hellscape. This absolute nightmare of a world.

♡ Yandere! Loner who shoves it at you, grumbling, "Took forever to find one that wasn’t covered in blood."

♡ Yandere! Loner who shifts uncomfortably as you hold the cute kitten plushie. It’s actually… normal? Soft?

Too good to be true.

You squeeze it. It beeps.

You glance at him. He avoids eye contact.

You unzip the plushie, revealing—

A grenade.

And human skin holding it together.

♡ Yandere! Loner who clears his throat. "…Ignore that."

You stare deadpan.

"What part of 'gift' involves explosives?"

You're not even going to question the stitched human skin. You didn't even want to know why the plushie still felt oddly soft and warm in your hands.

♡ Yandere! Loner who crosses his arms. "It’s multifunctional."

♡ Yandere! Loner who doesn't even react when you chuck the plushie across the room, watching it land face-first on the floor with a sickening thud.

♡ Yandere! Loner who, after a long silence, mutters, "Rude."

He decides to try his next attempt at impressing you.

♡ Yandere! Loner who throws a bag at you. No wrapping, no note, just a body bag.

You blink. Look at him. Look at the bag. Look at him again.

"…What the fuck."

"You said you had a problem with that guy, right?" He shrugs, crossing his arms nonchalantly. "Problem solved."

♡ Yandere! Loner who doesn’t even care if you appreciate the gesture. He’s not looking for a thank-you. Just confirmation that you understand.

You do. Unfortunately.

You put your head in your hands.

You need a new roommate.

────────────

Valentine's Day, in the apocalypse, is an absolute nightmare.

Normal people—if any still exist—would probably spend the day reminiscing about the past. Thinking about flowers, chocolates, candlelit dinners.

You, on the other hand, get body parts delivered to your doorstep like some kind of fucked-up Amazon Prime service.

Your stalkers—because, let’s be real, that’s what they are—seem to think this is perfectly normal. That nothing says "romance" like dismemberment, exsanguination, and ethically questionable corpse handling.

You, however, are beyond exhausted.

Maybe next year you’ll just dig a hole and die in it.

♡ A/N. I already have a Valentine's Day part scheduled. ... and my requests are closed. But fine, since it's a "holiday". A short drabble at least....

Yandere! Valentines Special

Novella : Red Roses, Black Hearts

This Valentine’s, your heart might be the last thing you give away.

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired , @lilyalone , @starryperson , @yandreams-storageblog , @tiffyisme3760 , @songbirdgardensworld , @yune1337 , @mocalocha , @astreaaaaaa6

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams. ♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Disclaimer. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution—these tales explore obsession, madness, and devotion in their rawest forms.

[dpspcehntr]

💝 Valentines Day Special 💝

Paring: LADS OT4 x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: MC and her four boyfriends, voyerism (if you squint), group sex, P in V, fingering (f receiving), oral (m and f receiving), double penetration, squirting, over stimulation, cream pie, cum eating ,masturbation, pure filth, not beta read

A/N: Hello all! Happy Valentine's Day to all who celebrate 💖. This request was too fun not to turn into a full fic. I worked on this instead of doing my homework so I hope you enjoy! It's all of them and its me going ham as usual. I tried my best but oh man writing for five people is HARD! I hope you enjoy and remember that reblogs are deeply appreciated and help me out lots. Lots of love! Byeee!

It was unusual to not hear anything from either of them for an entire day let alone on such an important holiday to you. You didn't think much of it as you went along with your work day, which of course was mostly just paper work. When you finally look up from your screen the time read 6pm and it was time to head home. You sigh, get up to stretch your limbs and check your phone. There was only one message from Sylus saying they had a surprise in store for you once you reached your apartment. Again you shrug it off and pack up your belongings for the day. Once you made it home you see a note placed on your door.

Open Me

You chuckle as you put your key in the lock and open the door. To your surprise you walk in to see all four of them waiting for you. The place is decorated with hearts and flowers with a designated spot on the couch for you to sit. Once seated you put the pieces together on what the "surprise" is. You shudder with excitement as you look each of them in the eyes. Zayne places a hand on your thigh and pulls you in for a kiss. Xavier lingers over your neck, letting you feel his breath over you. Rafayel sits at your feet, watching and waiting. Sylus is no where to be seen as of yet. You feel yourself getting wetter and wetter as they become more assertive with their touches.

Zayne slips a hand down underneath your skirt. His finger drags along the wet fabric as you bite your lip. Xavier groans in your ear as he kisses down your jaw and neck. Rafayel sits on the floor humping your leg and waiting his turn. Sylus sits across the room watching it all with a smirk on his face. It was much too early in the night to feel overwhelmed but you didn't know how much longer you could last. Zayne slips a finger underneath your underwear as Xavier pulls your legs open wider. You throw your head back as a moan escapes your lips. When you open your eyes you find Sylus leaning down before pulling your lips in you’re a searing kiss. You felt gluttonous as you whined into his mouth begging for him to touch you. So many hands and lips on your skin and you still wanted more. He pulls away from you with a chuckle and once again takes in the scene in front of him. Zayne curls his fingers inside you as Rafayel leaves a bite mark on the inside of your thigh. You wanted so much more but you were too enwrapped in extasy to voice it. Xavier grips your chin and plants a fierce kiss onto your lips as his tongue slips into your mouth. His tongue grazes yours as he moans into your mouth. Your hand grips him through his pants and strokes his hard on. The other is snaked into Zayne's hair pulling just enough for him to pant next to you. Zayne pulls his fingers from inside you and holds them up to Sylus for a taste. Xavier takes your chin to make sure you can see. Sylus takes the digits into his mouth with a hum. He makes a show of licking and sucking every drop of your wetness from his fingers before releasing them with a pop. Your face erupts into heat as you watch, the fantasies of your late nights only becoming more real as the night goes on. Rafayel continues to leave bites and hickeys on your thighs as he continues to hump your leg, oblivious to what is happening above him. You tear your eyes away from the three men and look down at him. You take his chin in your hand and pull him into a kiss. He greedily accepts you and licks the inside if your mouth. He moans into your mouth and slows his humping. A string of spit follows you as you pull away from his mouth. Your shirt is lifted over your head by Xavier as Rafayel undoes the buttons on your skirt. You lift your hips as he pulls your skirt and underwear from you. You're left naked and under the lustful gaze of their watching eyes. You waited for someone to make the next move as the anticipation made you drip onto the couch. Each of them takes their time ridding themselves of their clothes and surrounding you once again. Zayne takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom.

"Wait here."

Without another word he leaves the room. You lay down on the bed waiting for somethings. Overwhelmed with desire you slide a hand down your body and lightly trace circles on your clit. You sigh as you arch into your touch as you take one of your breasts in your other hand. You twist and twirl your nipple in your fingers as you increase pressure on your clit. You're so engrossed in your pleasure you don't hear them enter the room. You feel Xavier grip your wrist and pull your fingers away from your throbbing clit.

"Impatient are we? Don't worry you'll get what you want soon."

He climbs into the bed and settles by the headboard. You crawl over to him and pull him in for a desperate kiss. You grip his face as you moan into the kiss. You feel someone grip your hips and line himself up with your hole. You groan into Xavier's mouth as they thrust into you fully. He presses down onto your back and whispers into your ear.

"I've been waiting for this."

Rafayel kisses the base of your neck before pulling out of you and thrusting fully back into you. You pull away from Xavier's lips to take him in your mouth. He hisses as you close around the head and suck. Rafayel pounds into your harder making you take more of Xavier in your mouth. The taste of him was intoxicating as you moan around him. He grips your hair and thrusts deeper into your throat. Rafayel continues his brutal pace, fucking Xavier deeper into your throat. Xavier pulls you off of him and into another searing kiss. He moans at the taste on himself on your tongue as you lick into his mouth. Rafayel scoops you up and presses your back onto his body, continuing to fuck into you. In Rafayel's grip you watch as Xavier gets closer to you. He kneels to pull you into another kiss as he lines up with your entrance. Rafayel pauses so Xavier can push into you with him. The stretch of this makes your head spin as Xavier settles into you. Your brain goes blank as they thrust deeper into you. You clench down on both of them as your orgasm crashes over you, squirting as they continue to fuck into you.

"Fuck!"

Rafayel's hips stutters as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder and releases his load deep inside of you. Xavier continues to pump into you as Rafayel pulls out of you. You hold onto Xavier as another orgasm washes over you, the mix of your juices and cum going sticky on your thighs. Xavier pulls out briefly to lay down with you on top of him. Once situated he lines himself back up with your entrance and thrusts in. You scream as he picks up his pace chasing after his own high. The sound of skin on skin fills up the room as he thrusts faster into you. You feel the pressure of your release building up inside of you as Xavier reaches his own high. He paints your walls with his cum as he continues to thrust into you bringing you to completion. You clench down on his, milking every last drop of cum before he pulls out of you completely. He slides out from underneath you and places a kiss on your forehead. Before long you feel another pair of hands grip your hips into position. You feel the head run up and down your dripping slit as you let out a shutter. Zayne rubs the tip onto your clit coating it in the precum leaking from his hard on.

"I'm not going to last much longer.

He pushes deep into your dripping core with a hiss. You squeeze him for dear mercy, begging to cum again. You grip the sheets as he begins to pick up the pace, plowing into you like a madman. You thrust back into him, meeting his hips. Your voice hoarse from yelling as you cry out for him to keep going. You were so close, teetering on the edge. He continues his pace, too lost in the feeling of your clenching around him. He thrusts in as far as he can before blowing his load deep inside you. You clench around him as you leak all over him and the sheets below. The mix of your juices and cum leaking onto the bed below. You collapse onto the mattress as he goes soft inside you. You wanted more, so much more. You whimper at the lost of him as you clench around nothing. He plans a soothing kiss on your lips as Sylus takes his place behind you. Xavier and Rafayel climb onto the bed while lazily jerking themselves off. With his other hand Rafayel and Xavier reach under you to play with your nipples and stroke your clit. You feel Sylus line himself up with your entrance and push in. He takes his time, letting you feel every single inch of him inside you. Xavier continues to play with your clit, rubbing and pinching it lightly. Rafayel finds a way to take one of your nipples in his mouth as he lightly swirls his tongue over the bud. Their touch was overwhelming but it just wasn't enough to reach your high. You whine and moan as they each take their time with you. Once Sylus bottoms out he stays there to let you adjust to his size before pulling out and thrusting back in completely. You can only lie there and take what they are giving, over stimulated and blissed out beyond your imagination. The feeling of Sylus pounding into you has your head spinning. Just a little bit more and you'll reach your peak again. Rafayel switches to the other nipple while Xavier increases his speed on your clit. You let out a silent scream as your release takes you by surprise. You clench down on Sylus as he groans at your tightness. Xavier and Rafayel leave the bed soon after, letting Sylus have his way with you. He grips your hips harder as he fucks you onto him. His rhythm growing more erratic and his own release is coming up. Your grip the sheets underneath you for dear life as your another orgasm washes over you. He thrusts deeper into you, kissing your cervix as he begins to cum. He fills your dripping hole with yet another load of cum. You cry out as your orgasm washes over you and a feeling of exhaustion settles in your limbs. Yet you still crave more, you want more of them, your cravings only growing stronger with each release. He pulls out of you with a squelch and sits back on the bed. You lay there for a moment before you feel a set of hands on your hips. The grip of Zayne was undeniable as you feel his face linger closely to your abused hole. You shutter at the thought of what is to come.

"May I?"

You look back to him, his pupils are blown wide as he watches and waits for you. You choke out a yes and wait for him. His tongue is instantly on you, licking and sucking as the sting of over stimulation settles in. You beg and plead for him to let you cum just one more time. His tongue expertly licking into you and slurping up the taste of all of you on his tongue. He hums into you as the cum coats him tongue, he was addicted to it. You cling onto the bed sheets as another orgasm runs through you, leaking over his lips and jaw. He grows more desperate as he sucks harder on your clit extending your release. He unlatches with a pop as he takes a look at you covered in hickeys and bite marks. You shutter under his gaze as you roll over onto your back. All of their eyes watch you in desperation as you settle into your new position.

"Whose next? "

You muse as you wait for round two to begin.

[kiszjuli]

・── completely .ᐟ (J.JH)

(재현) ; fem!reader x jeong jaehyun

──in which jaehyun is patient and loves you completely.

genre. fluff, little angst. romance. ; tags. loving!jaehyun x hardtolove!reader. jaehyun sweetest boy. words of affirmation. jaehyun basically reassuring reader he’s not going anywhere.; w.c. 1.6k

the room was dimly lit, the soft hum of your record player filling the quiet space between you. jaehyun sits across from you on the floor, his back against the couch, one arm resting on his knee as he watches you with that unreadable expression—the one that makes your heart beat a little faster every time.

“what?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

his lips curve into a lazy smile. “your favorite love song,” he pipes, tilting his head. “tell me.”

you hesitate, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “why?”

he leans forward, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. his fingers linger just long enough to make your breath catch. “cause i wanna sing it with you.”

your heart stutters even more if it was even possible.

you swallow, pretending to think, but the truth is, you already know the answer. it’s the song you play when you’re alone, when you let yourself get lost in daydreams you won’t admit out loud.

you say the title, barely audible, and jaehyun grins like he just won a game you didn’t know you were playing.

he grabs his phone, scrolling until the melody begins to play, then shifts closer, close enough that your shoulders touch.

“sing with me,” he murmurs.

baby, tell me your favorite love song i wanna sing it with you

jaehyun’s fingers trace slow, absentminded patterns along your arm as you lie beside him, the room bathed in soft, golden light. neither of you speak for a moment, just breathing in the quiet, the warmth of each other’s presence.

then, his voice comes, low and gentle. “tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”

you swallow, turning to face him. “why?”

he shifts, propping himself up on one elbow, his gaze steady. “because i want to know you,” he says simply. “all of you. not just the easy parts.”

your chest tightens.

it’s one thing to show someone the pieces of yourself that are whole—the smiles, the laughter, the carefully put-together parts. but this? the things you’d rather leave hidden? that’s different.

still, jaehyun waits, patient as ever, like he has all the time in the world.

so you take a breath, hesitating before you speak. you tell him about the things you don’t say out loud—the fears, the insecurities, the past that still lingers in the corners of your mind. your voice wavers, but he doesn’t look away, doesn’t let go of your hand.

when you finally stop, the silence stretches between you, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve said too much.

but then jaehyun exhales, his grip tightening around your fingers. “thank you,” he murmurs. “for trusting me with that.”

you blink. “now you can’t leave, because you know.” you half-tease. but he stays serious in his response.

he gives you a small, knowing smile before pressing his forehead to yours. “never.”

take it right from the start tell me who you are every piece of your heart every bruise and scar

it was a quiet night, as you lay curled up against jaehyun. his arm is warm around you, his chest steady beneath your cheek, and for once, your mind isn’t racing—just slowing, settling into the comfort of him.

until he speaks.

“you’re thinking too much.”

you huff, tilting your head up to look at him. “maybe i just enjoy using my brain.”

he grins. “dangerous habit.”

you flick his arm, earning a low chuckle, but the moment lingers.

“what were you actually thinking about?” he asks, quieter now.

you hesitate, fingers mindlessly tracing the fabric of his shirt. “just… wondering how we got here.”

jaehyun hums, nodding like he’s deep in thought. “well, first, you annoyed me. then, you continued to annoy me. and somewhere along the way, i decided i liked it.”

you scoff, pushing at his chest, but he catches your hand before you can pull away. his fingers curl around yours, grounding, steady.

“hey,” he says, more serious now, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “i know what you mean. but this isn’t some dream or lucky accident.” his gaze holds yours, unwavering. “it’s real. and i’m gonna prove it to you—every second, every day.”

your heart stumbles, warmth creeping up your neck.

you try to play it off, rolling your eyes. “that’s a lot of pressure, don’t you think?”

jaehyun smirks, leaning in, his voice a teasing murmur against your skin. “nah. i’m pretty good at it.”

when he kisses your temple, pulling you even closer, you choose to trust him.

every second from now i’m gonna love completely

jaehyun doesn’t say anything at first. he just watches you, eyes soft but unreadable, as you sit curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees.

you’ve been quiet and distant all night.

he doesn’t push. doesn’t demand an explanation. but when you exhale a little too sharply, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes, he shifts closer.

“let me in,” he murmurs.

you shake your head. “it’s not that easy.”

his hand finds yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “it doesn’t have to be.”

your throat tightens. you don’t want to weigh him down, don’t want to dump all of this—the exhaustion, the stress, the things you don’t know how to fix—onto him. they weren’t his problems, and you didn’t want them to be

but jaehyun just squeezes your hand, like he already knows what you’re thinking.

“you don’t have to carry it alone,” he says, voice low, certain. “whatever it is. however heavy it feels.”

you swallow. “i don’t want you to feel like you have to—”

“i want to,” he interrupts, his grip firm but gentle. “i don’t care how heavy it is. i’ll carry it too.”

the words settle into your chest, something cracking open just enough to let him in.

don’t care how heavy the hurt is i wanna carry it too

good times

laughter spills between you as jaehyun wraps his arms around your waist in the kitchen, the scent of something slightly burnt lingering in the air. the dinner you attempted to cook together had ended in disaster, but neither of you cared. not when your arms found their way around his neck, not when his deep chuckle vibrated against your skin as he pulled you closer.

“this is your fault,” you tease, a smile spreading across your face.

he grins, leaning down until his nose brushes yours. “pretty sure you were the one who set off the smoke alarm.”

you swat at his chest, but he only catches your wrist, pressing a featherlight kiss to your knuckles. “good times, huh?” he murmurs, his voice warm, easy.

you nod, heart swelling. “the best.”

bad times.

the door clicks shut behind you, but the silence lingers, heavy and suffocating. you sit on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around yourself as if that’ll hold you together. jaehyun kneels in front of you, his hands reaching, hesitant, before resting gently on your knees.

“talk to me,” he says softly, looking up at you.

your throat tightens. “i don’t know what to say.”

he doesn’t push. doesn’t rush. just stays there, his presence steady, unwavering.

“you don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. “but don’t shut me out.”

your eyes sting, the weight of everything pressing against your chest. he squeezes your thighs gently, grounding you.

“i’m here,” he continues, voice steady, sure. “for all of it. the good, the bad, the days that don’t make sense. you don’t have to go through it alone.”

your breath stutters.

“i love you.” he says softly.

he means it. he always does.

through good times, bad times, red lights, stop signs the one thing you should know is my love will always ring true, ooh.

you finish speaking, the words hanging in the air between you like a quiet confession. the vulnerability feels raw, but with jaehyun, it’s almost like it was meant to be shared—like he’s always been waiting for you to let go of the weight you’ve been carrying around.

the silence stretches on for a moment, but it’s not uncomfortable. jaehyun doesn’t rush to fill it. instead, he takes a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours, as though he’s carefully absorbing everything you’ve said.

when he speaks again, his voice is softer, but it carries a weight of its own. “you know, i’ve been waiting for you to say that,” he says, his words almost a whisper, like a secret shared between the two of you.

you blink, surprised. “what do you mean?”

jaehyun reaches across the table, his fingers brushing yours for a moment before he gently takes your hand in his. his touch is warm, grounding. “i’ve been waiting for you to trust me enough to share it all,” he says, his voice steady. “and i know it’s not easy for you to open up, but i’m not going anywhere.”

you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest at the sincerity in his eyes. he’s not just saying the words. he’s showing you that he means it.

he leans in a little closer, his other hand coming up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch tender. “i love you. now, tomorrow, a year from now…always. ,” he says, his voice low and filled with meaning, like a vow.

the words sink in, and for a moment, everything else falls away. there’s no more hesitation, no more second-guessing. it’s just you and him, and a love that feels both new and inevitable all at once.

you let out a soft breath, your heart racing, and you finally allow yourself to believe him. you squeeze his hand, your eyes locked with his. this—what he’s offering, what you’re beginning to feel is something real. something you’re ready to embrace completely.

and in that moment, you know, without a doubt, that this is just the beginning.

every second from now i’m gonna love you completely.

—

🎧— completely - jaehyun

( jaehyun birthday boy post ! )

[gotta-winwin]

svt x what could've beens 💌

have you ever stayed up so late your mind started to wander? as you flipped through your mind and thought about everything that could've been, all the people you could've had. well, does this cupid have a story for you!

follow cupid of valentine day's past to discover all the things that could've been...[heartbreak almost guaranteed]

divider credits: @sisterlucifergraphics

(💌) Choi Seungcheol

At twelve years old on the playground, you traded plastic wedding rings with Choi Seungcheol, the boy who sat in front of you in class. He slid the ring onto your ring finger, a teasing smile across his face. 

“You have to say the vows.” Soonyoung nudges him.

“I, Choi Seungcheol, take you, Y/N L/N, to be my unlawfully wedded wife.” His nose scrunches as he looks to Soonyoung for his next lines. “Was that right?”

Later, Seungcheol gently breaks apart his orange to share with you. “Let’s get married for real. When we’re 30.” 

You kiss his cheek in a silent agreement. 

Choi Seungcheol gets married at 27 with you sitting on the groom’s side, wondering why it wasn’t you standing next to him.

(💌) Yoon Jeonghan

It shook your fragile heart each time your daughter came home singing Mr. Yoon’s praises. 

“I wish Mr. Yoon was my father.” 

Your heart snaps in two at her words. You could never explain to her how close he had been to that title-- how a lifetime of bad decisions had wound the two of you suffering apart. 

“I know, sweetheart.” Is all you say, as you hand her off to Jeonghan, who smiles kindly your way. 

It’s a polite smile with nothing behind it, the kind you give to passing strangers. 

(💌) Hong Jisoo

You know it wasn’t his fault. Life had strange ways of pulling people apart. It pulled you to your dream university and it had told Joshua to stay.

The universe has to cooperate as well, and in Joshua’s case, it did not. 

“Maybe one day you’ll come back.” He says, and his voice is hopeful. “We can try again.”

“Yeah.”

You leave him behind the airport gates, his eyes crinkling into a smile only you could tell was forced. 

You both knew you wouldn’t be back. 

(💌) Wen Junhui

You’ve been trying to study for the last hour or so but the sound effects coming from Jun’s phone were distracting you. 

“Ahem.” 

He looks up at the sound, his thumbs hovering over his phone screen as he pauses the mobile game he had been playing. “What?”

“Keep it down. I’m trying to study.” 

“Oh.” 

There’s a whole empty cafe for him to choose a place to sit, yet he sits right next to you, elbows bumping into yours as he lounges, occasionally shooting you a look. You see him everyday. You memorize each divot and mole on his face. But that’s it. That’s it.

(💌) Kwon Soonyoung

You spot the tiger jellycat you needed for your nephew sitting on the highest shelf. 

“Move, little lady.” A ball of energy zooms past you and grabs it before you can. “The tiger plush is mine.” 

“Hey!” 

You turn to confront the man who had just stolen the jellycat right out from under you, your words sputtering to a stop when you see his face. Oh fuck he was good looking. 

“Sorry, lady.” He shrugs unapologetically. “I need it.”

“It’s for my nephew.” 

“Well that sucks. This is for me.” 

“Please let me have it.” 

“No.”

(he ends up letting you have it anyways) 

(💌) Jeon Wonwoo

It’s not your fault he looks good pushing up his glasses in between class time. It’s neither here nor there, the way his fingers look handing out your class papers, how his voice melts into your ear canal everytime he explains a question. 

He pretends to not know the meaning behind your stares.

“Eyes on your worksheet, Y/N.” He raps his knuckles against your desk. 

“Right.”

You pretend not to notice how he leaves the classroom with flowers on Valentines Day.

(💌) Lee Jihoon

You first meet Jihoon when he saves you from getting crushed by a dumbbell.

“Thanks.” 

He shoots you a noncommittal grunt. 

“What’s your name?” 

Maybe it was your cheerful tone or infectious smile that made Jihoon take off his airpods, muttering his name before telling you to be more careful.

“I won’t always be around to stop you from getting crushed.” 

But he does end up always being around. You take turns spotting one another, inviting each other for drinks after a particularly long day.  I love you, you want to say. But you hear him introduce you to his friends as his favourite gym bro and the words swallow themselves back down.

(💌) Lee Seokmin

You were sure you had seen much hotter men somewhere, but you really couldn’t remember when. 

Seokmin’s in the middle of another terrible joke, barbecue sauce on his bottom lip and his eyes glassy from all the booze. 

“Y/N!” He waves you over, patting the seat next to him in a warm welcome. His hand rests on your knee in the most relaxed way-- as if the two of you had known each other for decades. “Let me tell you something.” His face splits into a crazy grin when you nod. 

You see Seokmin less than two times a year for neighbourhood functions, both at your worst and neither one trying to impress the other. Yet you still fall a little bit in love with him each time.

(💌) Kim Mingyu

Mingyu knows your favourite color, how you like to tie your hair, your allergies, how you had tried piercing your own ears and then lied about it to your parents. He knows everything about you, down to the most embarrassing secrets.

Yet the first thing he tells people when they mention your name is that you barely know each other. 

After all, time rips people apart and Mingyu had spent enough time loving you to know you were never going to love him back.

Except for the fact that you did love him, many years ago, when he had been in the middle of his ‘playing the field’ phase. 

It was an unspoken thing sitting in between your friendship that eventually grew too big to work around. 

(💌) Xu Minghao

By the time you position your phone against the brick wall and start filming your tiktok, it’s already noon. 

You pose for the camera, taking a sip of your iced coffee while turning around, showing off your meticulously put together outfit. You feel good, confident even, as you move back to grab your phone.

“Cute.” 

You whip your head around to catch whoever had said that. You see the back of his head, his long coat and scarf billowing past him in the wind. You don’t need to see the rest of him to know he’s a catch. 

“Wait!” 

You rush up to catch up with him, your eyes skimming the crowded sidewalk for a face you had only seen once yet you knew you would remember forever. You don’t see him.

“Must have been the wind, I guess.” 

(💌) Boo Seungkwan

“I’ve always thought the book was a bit too gay for my taste.”

You snort at the statement before you even look up. “You thought The Picture of Dorian Gray was too gay?”

“Yeah, you didn’t? The entire time I was reading it I just wanted to throttle Basil and tell him to kiss Dorian already. Maybe he wouldn’t have been so…” The boy pauses. “Demonic.” 

You laugh, and the sound rings clear. “You’re funny.”

“I know. It’s one of my best traits.”

You laugh again, covering your mouth with your hand as you watch him smile, pleased at your reactions. 

“I’m Seungkwan.” 

His bus rolls up far too quickly, as he gives you a little wave before boarding. “Throttle Basil for me.” He points at the book in your hand. 

“I will.”

(💌) Vernon Chwe

He’s like a vampire, or a poorly timed ghost. 

You see Vernon on Tuesdays past midnight, a backwards cap on his head and a skateboard tucked underneath his arm. 

He never says anything, yet he’ll wordlessly hand you a 7-Eleven slushy whenever he arrives, mixed with flavours he knows you love. 

You don’t even skate, yet he never asks why you’re always there, sitting on the concrete with your legs hanging off the side of the ramp, eyes trailing him as he practices. 

A part of you doesn’t even think he’s really real. 

He leaves like he arrives, without sound or notice. One Tuesday he’s there and the other he’s not. You go to the skatepark still, despite how deserted it is without him. 

You don’t ever see him again. Maybe he is a vampire or a poorly timed ghost. 

(💌) Lee Chan

You tell yourself he’s the annoying brother you’ve never had (or wanted), yet you still find yourself actively searching for him whenever it’s time to make groups. 

You ignore the way your heart skips a beat when he wraps your jacket around your waist, tying it up before sprinting away, yelling behind him for you to race. 

You hate how he makes you laugh so easily, how he chases you with little bugs he finds on your nature walks, how focused he looks when he cleans up your various scratches and scrapes. 

But most of all, you hate how you only see him once every year, when the summer heat is the worst and your families meet up for camp. 

You hate how he tells you he loves you because you know he only means that he loves you now: in this bubble, untouched by the real world. 

You hate how he forgets about you the moment summer is over. 

vote for your favourite what could've been and cupid of valentine past will present to you the full story: (i know i forgot mingyu but it’s too late to change so he’ll get his own full fic + whoever wins this poll😀)

[sillyuin]

Valentine's day with svt (Hip hop unit)

Genre: fluff fluff fluff.

Pairing: svt hhu unit x reader.

Warnings: none.

- Yuin's note: This is the part 3/3 of my valentine's day with svt special. This was supposed to be published two days ago, but shit happens. Anyways, better later than never, hope you enjoy it ♥ also, happy birthday my fellow Carat, take it as a gift for you ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

Seungcheol. Romantic dinner at home.

He promised to take you to a special place and it was quite a surprise when you came home to find that, actually, that special place was the one who came to your house.

When you stepped into your apartment, a sweet aroma greeted you. You walked towards the dining room, and there was a dim light illuminating the room, the table was set with a fine tablecloth and you noticed that, in the center of it, there was a scented candle lit. 

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard Cheol’s voice and he came out of the kitchen, dressed as if he was ready for an elegant party.

“Good night, babe,” he said with a bright smile. “How was your day?”

“Good night…” your voice above a whisper, a little confused, “What… What is this?”

“Oh, just something different,” he walked towards the table and pulled out one of the chairs, “Come, have a seat”.

As you sat at the table, he went to the kitchen and came back with something with an amazing smell. You didn’t know exactly what was on the plate in front of you, but whatever it was, it also had a good look.

“It's my first time preparing this dish,” he said, joining the table with you, “And I wanted you to be the first person to try it”.

“But it looks amazing!” your compliments made him laugh in the cutest way possible, “Thanks Cheolie”.

“I love you, babe” He cleared his throat, “Bon appetit!”

Wonwoo. Museum date.

A quiet walk at the local museum to appreciate the beauty of art, the joy of spending quality time together and taking photos that will make you remember all the beautiful moments that you shared.

You were standing in front of a painting, your eyes wandering in its colors, when you heard a voice calling your name in a low tone.

“Hey, I wasn’t ready!” you complained making a little pout.

“Don’t worry, it looks good” Wonwoo showed you his phone, on the screen there was the photo he just took. “You always look good”.

You smiled faintly as he took your hand, intertwining their fingers with yours, and you both resumed walking. The local museum was never your first option for a date, but once you got there, it was worth it: The place was quiet and the beauty of every piece was haunting, almost ethereal.

Now you understand why Wonwoo was so excited to spend this day with you walking in the art museum.

“I didn’t know this place was this gorgeous” you whispered in awe, “I feel like I'm in a royal palace”.

Wonwoo chuckled, covering his mouth with one hand. “If you say so... Do you wanna go to the mirror’s room?”

“Do they have one of those here!? Let’s go!”

At the end of the day, your camera roll was filled with pictures of you and Wonwoo, and they looked amazing in the collage you made for him.

Mingyu. Dinner at an elegant restaurant.

He doesn’t mind cooking for you, actually he loves it. But this day is the perfect excuse to take you to a special place.

When Mingyu told you to wear your finest outfit, you couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind. The moment he parked in front of the most elegant restaurant in the city, you felt a little overwhelmed.

“Gyu… Do you think it’s okay?” your voice sounded almost like a shy whisper, “I mean, this place…”

“Why not?” he smiled at you, placing his hand on your knee, “is our special night, we deserve it.”

“But here… This place is expensive, and…”

However, before you could finish your sentence, he chimed in. “No, I won’t accept any complaints tonight. Okay?”

He was trying to look serious, but in a gentle and almost funny way; it made you feel a little comfortable.

“You have one only task for today, and it is having fun,” Mingyu added, as he held your hand, “And I won’t accept a no for answer”.

Mingyu gave you a lovestruck smile that made your cheeks a little warm, and you nodded while pressing your hand against his… And let’s be honest, how can you say “no” to him?

Vernon. Sleepover night.

There's nothing like spending the night awake with Vernon: Junk food, gossip, skin care and movies. Something so simple yet so special for the both of you.

“I bought the dinner as you told me,” he said putting the bag on the kitchen counter, “I tried this new place I talked about”.

“Oh, the one near your home?” you smiled, excited, “I can finally have those tacos you talked about so eagerly”.

“And, with delivery included” he smiled to himself, “okay, what do you wanna do first? Dinner, movie… That new face mask you just bought and been talking about for a whole week, maybe?”

You shrugged as you looked at him with guilty eyes. You just found this new store and you bought a lot of skin care, talking non-stop about how amazing it is and telling Vernon how much you wanted to try it with him.

“Sorry, but I needed to brag about it”

“I’m not complaining” Vernon walked towards you, letting a gentle kiss on your forehead, “You’re in charge tonight.”

You leaned closer and gave him a small kiss on his cheek, whispering a shy laugh as you walked out of the kitchen. “I’ll bring the skin care basket, wait for me in the living room”.

“Okay, then I’ll look for a movie. There’s something that I’ve been saving for this day”.

“Something?”

Vernon grinned at you, biting back a smile. “It’s a surprise”.