#was genuinely a bit surprised by it at first

[sweetshuga]

「 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 𝟐 ✧ 𝑪.𝑺 」

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑺𝑴𝑼𝑻! ⬩ +𝟏𝟖 ⬩ Chris has an oral fixation ⬩ boobs sucking/fondling ⬩ pussy eating ⬩ munch!chris ⬩ pet names ⬩ overstimulation (f!) ⬩ praise kink + more.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟏.𝟗 𝒌

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: Happy Valentine’s babes!! Here’s a cute lil’ fic to celebrate the day of love<33

𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝑰𝒏 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒅: English is not my first language! «𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕»

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Your school had a secret admirer day on Valentine’s, and what you received was far from a love letter.

Chris hummed a soft tune under his breath as he walked to the back of the school, almost with a hop in his step.

You had asked to meet him there.

As Chris rounded the corner, he saw you standing there, his notebook in hand and a serious expression on your face. His smile faltered as a strange nervousness flooded his senses, but he tried not to show it as he approached you — although with a more tense smile on his face.

"Oh, you’re here." You said, uncharacteristically unenthusiastic as you shoved his notebook in his chest, making Chris blink at you, clutching the notebook against his chest with his lips parted slightly in surprise. "Open it won’t you?" You tutted, your expression unreadable.

Chris, although surprised, opened the notebook per your request, his brows furrowing immediately when he saw what was inside. Inside was the letter he had written; the explicit one of the two he gave you anonymously.

He looked up at you, now with clear nervousness on his face. "Look I-" "Did you write it?" You cut him off before he could make a dumb excuse, and your words made him freeze in place.

Chris stared at you for a bit before nodding slowly, knowing he couldn’t make up a lie since you seemed to know the truth already and would call him out on his bullshit immediately. "Fuck…" He cursed under his breath, gaze snapping down at the vulgar letter inside his notebook.

"I… I wrote it alright," he paused before continuing in a quieter tone, his eyes still stuck on the page, "I know I shouldn’t have- but I thought you wouldn’t know — I thought I could get away with it." He mumbled, unable to look at you due to the shame burning his face.

You sighed heavily, making his heart beat a tad bit faster as he didn’t know how to interpret it. He didn’t know if you were angry at him — he didn’t want to ruin whatever you two had and shared. "Why did you write it- I mean, I kinda have an idea but-but I don’t understand… Why me?" Your question nearly made him laugh.

Why you? Were you being serious?

You were the prettiest girl he had seen; the smartest; the funniest. All in all a perfect girl in his eyes. He wanted you. He wanted you bad, and the letters he had spent a whole day writing described his feelings perfectly.

You’d be lying if you said that his carefully written letters didn’t make your heart do back flips in your chest, but you also wasn’t sure if you’d be doing the right thing to say yes if he – ever – outwardly asked you out, hence the troubled expression slowly creeping on your face as you waited for him to answer your question.

Chris wasn’t stupid — he knew exactly what you were thinking about. He didn’t want you to doubt anything, and so, he decided to answer truthfully — confidently.

"Why you? Well, firstly, you’re really pretty- no scratch that, you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen, and you’re smart, you’re never afraid to speak your mind, you’re kind, you’re selfless — humble and-"

The more he spoke, the more your doubt faded.

A soft blush adorned your cheeks after his wholehearted confession, your heart beating miles per minute. Chris looked at you with a soft smile, the genuine kind that you’ve never seen on his face. You were used to his playful smirks or the sly grins, but never this… tender smile, and it made butterflies go crazy in your tummy.

"Well?" Chris questioned, desperation seeping into his tone now that he has laid his feelings bare. He felt naked, stripped down to nothing but the truth.

"Well-" You began, your words catching in your throat. "-I, I need time to think. This is too much to take in all at once and-and I need more time." You said, looking straight at him, your words slowly decreasing in both volume and fight the more you looked at him.

Chris nodded quickly, understanding how much this was to digest. "Yeah-yeah, of course, um, you can take all the time you need — I’ll wait for as long as you want." He stuttered out rapidly, fumbling over his words, and despite your inner turmoil, his nervousness amused you greatly.

You were unable to stop your lips from curling upwards with a small smile — which made him smile as well, his shoulders relaxing slightly as if he was relieved you were still smiling after all that has happened.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

It had already been three days since his confession and you’ve had plenty of time to think. It wasn’t like you actually needed time to think — you liked him too. Therefore, you came to the conclusion that you should probably reciprocate his feelings before he got tired of waiting.

You felt on edge as you waited at the back of the school, yet again. Your fingers tapped impatiently inside your hoodie pocket as you waited for Chris to arrive.

A few minutes passed by and there was still no sign of Chris. You were starting to get anxious. Why isn’t he arriving? Is he ghosting you? Standing up? Is your friendship over?

Just as your thoughts got more and more dramatic, Chris arrived, a small smile on his face as he walked over to you in long confident strides. He stopped right in front of you, leaving a comfortable space between the two of you, his hands in his pockets.

"What did you wanna talk about?" Chris asked, tilting his head slightly to the side, his eyes darting down to your lips before taking them back up your face and to your eyes. You felt your words die in your throat and everything you wanted to say felt like a jumbled mess of letters.

"Well, I-um, I wanted to talk about-" "My confession?" He continued for you, knowing exactly what you wanted to talk about, and you nodded before speaking again. "Yeah, that… and um, I’ve thought about it for a while now and I think I like you too- no, I mean I like you and not that I think I like you, I really do like you and-" You rambled, stumbling over your words.

"Hey-hey, I got you, relax." Chris chuckled, his hands slipping out of his pockets to reach towards your arms before sliding them down and gently holding your hands in his, interlacing your fingers together. "You like me, huh?" His eyes searched yours, wanting assurance.

"Yeah, I like you — a lot." You confirmed, louder this time. Chris’ smile widened, a warm feeling spreading through his chest at your confession. "Fuck, you don’t know how long I waited to hear that." He pulled you into a tight hug, mumbling a soft ‘I love you’.

"I love you too, Chris." You murmured, melting into his hug as your arms wrapped around his torso. Your words made him smile widely against your hair, his face burying itself in your neck as he breathed in your scent.

𓆩♡𓆪

Things escalated rather quickly.

One moment you were walking home with him all giggly and the next he was hovering over you on your bed, kissing down your half-naked body.

Chris’ hands deftly worked to unclasp your bra, taking it off in one swift motion before leaning down to hover right above the swell of your breast. "Can I?" He asked, wanting you to feel comfortable with everything, ignoring the ache in his pants.

You nodded your head, mumbling a quiet "go ahead" and Chris closed the distance between your hardened nipple and his lips, pressing a soft kiss on it before his tongue flicked out to swirl around the sensitive nub, making your back arch slightly — pushing your chest more into his face.

Spurred on by your soft noises and silent plea for more, he wrapped his lips around your nipple and suckled gently on it, his hand kneading your other breast and tweaking your nipple between his fingers.

Chris released your nipple with a soft pop and gave the other one the same attention before his lips trailed kisses down the valley of your breasts and to your stomach, occasionally grazing his teeth against your skin and eliciting soft gasps from you.

In a matter of seconds his lips were grazing the waistband of your underwear, "Can I take this off?" He asked, lifting his head a bit to look at you and a smirk creeped onto his face when you nodded your head yes. His head dove back down and – to your surprise – he bit the waistband of your panties and slowly pulled it down with his teeth, his hands lifting your hips to make it easier to pull it down.

He rose up slightly after your panties were down around your thighs and took it off with his hands instead, discarding it somewhere on your bedroom floor before he leaned down again. This time, he peppered kisses all over your stomach and pelvis — purposely leaving kisses close to your cunt but not directly where you need him the most.

A needy sound escaped you involuntarily, your fingers carding through his hair all while pushing his head down slightly, and he finally complied, leaving a soft kiss on your glistening folds.

Chris flattened his tongue and licked a stripe up your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue before parting your folds with his fingers. His tongue flicked out to lick your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your, your hips bucking slightly involuntarily.

Seeing your pleasure, he gripped your hips tightly and pulled you more into his face, eating you out with a wild abandon. His tongue flicked your sensitive bundle of nerves quickly before wrapping his lips around it to suck hard on it, making you cry out in pleasure, your hands fisting in his hair and hips rolling slightly.

"Chris–oh!" Your back arched slightly when he pushed two long fingers in your sopping pussy, curling them just right to rub against that spongy spot inside you. "Sh-shit—just-just like that, feels s-so good baby–mmh-ah–s’good." Your moans spurred him on, a low groan vibrating against your folds.

Chris’ mouth worked overtime to get you over the edge, he wanted you to cum on his tongue, he wanted to taste you.

"C’mon, give it to me baby, fuckin’ cum on my face." Chris urged, doubling his efforts. His fingers fucked your cunt, curling upwards and rubbing hard on that spot that made your eyes roll back while he flicked your clit rapidly with his tongue, keeping his mouth solely focused on your clit.

You tensed up, a drawn out moan falling from your gaped mouth as you orgasmed, your hips bucking against his face as you rode out your intense orgasm.

"Good girl." He cooed as you came, his voice husky with barely restrained desire. "You look sooo pretty when you come baby." His hands gently caressed your inner thighs, slowly circling your clit with the tip of his tongue to prolong your high.

Despite just having made you climax, he wasn’t satisfied yet. He wanted more, he wanted you to feel more pleasure and he wanted to taste you again. Hence, he wrapped his lips around your clit again, giving it gentle suckles as his fingers prodded at your entrance.

He was addicted to your taste; your everything.

𓆩♡𓆪

You were on your fourth orgasm already, your body trembling with aftershocks, and Chris finally relented, kissing back up your body before lavishing attention on your tits again. He was rock hard and straining against his jeans, but he wanted you to feel good first.

He wanted to please you — his pretty girl.

𓆩♡𓆪

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒂

[maniculum]

This resonates with me as my extended family has a similar fixation on preserving family names — though they’re not as creative with it, I have to say. There’s no Roy-Emmet-Jack rotation or first-syllable approach, just “well whose name hasn’t been passed on to the next generation? great, that’s the baby’s name now.” And nobody’s as bad off as poor Breathnach Thomas.

I have a couple cousins with unusual or old-fashioned names that get funny looks — I’ve had multiple exchanges along the lines of “your cousin WHO? did you mean [more common name that kinda rhymes with what I said]?” “no i did not.” A bunch of us go by our middle names for one reason or another. Two of my cousins-once-removed have entirely normal, common first names that I genuinely don’t remember because they’ve been referred to by their middle names since infancy despite those middle names sounding like last names. I have one cousin whose first & middle names are both common but also firmly gendered in different directions: I won’t dox them, but it’s along the lines of “Frederick Jane Lastname” because there was a traditionally-female name that needed to be given to someone and the only available baby was AMAB. My sibling ended up joining the “go by the middle name that sounds like a last name” crew a while back, but that was for gender reasons.

I’ve got one of the more inconvenient-for-paperwork names, actually, which I’ll explain under a cut because I ended up going on a bit.

See, my grandfather was named after his maternal grandfather. And his mother had changed her name when she got married, but wanted to give her son his grandfather’s full name, so he ended up with two middle names. Firstname Middlename Maidenname Lastname. Nobody really liked the sound of “Firstname”, though, so he always went by Maidenname Lastname. Then he named his son the same thing, who named his son the same thing, so I’m Firstname Middlename Maidenname Lastname III. All of us agree that Firstname isn’t a good one, so we all go by variants of Maidenname Lastname. (Which means we’re all also on Team “Middle Name That Sounds Like A Last Name Used As A First Name”.)

The maiden name in question — I’ve almost certainly mentioned on the podcast what “Mac” is short for, but rather than dox myself in a text post, let’s say it’s “McKenzie”. Convenient in that it contains two syllables that are at least semi-normal names. So my grandfather always shortened it to “Mac”, and then to differentiate, rather than use one of the other surplus names, my father went by [not actually] “Ken”. My father once told me that he pitched the idea of using the last syllable for me (not actually “Zie”, but something else that in no way passes as a standard name) but was vetoed, so I’ve always been another Mac.

You would be surprised how many forms, both physical and electronic, are against the idea of two middle names. I’ve seen my second middle name squished into my first middle name to make a single word, or hyphenated with my last name, or just deleted — which is unfortunate because it’s the one I actually use. (I fully agree with my father & grandfather that “McKenzie Lastname” is the best-sounding use of our nomenclature inventory.) So I’m constantly explaining to various bureaucrats that yes, this thing that says “Mac” is referring to me, I know your system says my name is Firstname, but I go by my middle name (a practice that is in itself apparently less common than i always thought growing up) — it’s short for McKenzie — yes, I know that your system doesn’t say my middle name is McKenzie, it wasn’t designed to handle four-part names and just deleted that one — yes i’ll hold.

When I was younger, I wanted to change my name to get away from the problem — my idea was to just chop off both the first name and the last name, then I’d have the entirely normal-sounding Middlename McKenzie — but never got around to it, mostly because I was also worried that a name change could just multiply my paperwork complications. Once I’d committed to an academic career, though, I kind of came around on it, because if I just use the first two names as initials, “X. X. McKenzie Lastname” turns out to look pretty good as an author name on papers & such.

The latest paperwork issue has been how this interacts with my current employer’s “preferred name” form. It doesn’t let you enter a full preferred name (like “X. X. McKenzie Lastname”) and say “okay use that one”, and it doesn’t have a “just use my middle name for everything” option. So it turns out that the only way HR could get the system to call me “McKenzie Lastname” was to tell the computer my name was actually McKenzie Middlename McKenzie Lastname. I’ve decided to live with it.

Random question, could you give some ideas on Irish names your family may have in the 1950-60s? I got a character with an Irish grandpa with 9 brothers and sisters (3 brothers and 6 sisters) and I only got the oldest sister name (soairse) and his name (Caine). I guess I could just name the rest some form of jack and Margret since those seem to be popular, but I wanted to see if there were some “interesting” names you found in your family tree that maybe one of the siblings got named after some ancestor?

Firstly for the sake of clarity: I'm American, not Irish. All of my ancestors for the last 4-5 generations have lived here, and while I like learning about the language/music/culture, I am absolutely not an expert. I HIGHLY recommend getting a sensitivity reader, I'm sure someone in the comments can wave at you if they're willing to take on the job.

Second, Triple-check the spelling, pronunciation, meaning and provenance of any names you do choose, and ABSOLUTELY DO NOT TRUST ANY BABY NAME WEBSITES, they're basically all AI slop at best. The best written-down lists and meanings are actually on Wikipedia.

Third: If you want to learn more Irish names, you can look up the names of like, any Irish musician or artist. I think spotify still has Genre Playlists, if you look up "Irish Folk" you'll get a shitload of names of Real Irish people- and hey, if Hirohiko Akari can name all his characters after 80's pop bands, you can make a subtle ref to modern musicians. Also you'll get a bunch of fun music! --- So while I was writing this, I somewhat departed from the intent of this response, and am putting the last point under a cut because the post got long. And weird.

So there is a thing in Irish-american families, and I think it's true in the British isles still where there are "Family Names", where the same set of first names is recycled over and over and over across generations. My dad's family has exactly three male names that they rotate through over the generations: Roy, Emmet and Jack*. In that order, where the son takes the father's first name as his middle name. My great-grandfather was Roy Jack Surname, my grandfather was Emmet Roy Surname, and my dad is Jack Emmet. My sister and I were AFAB, so the names skipped us and my male cousin in my generation is now Roy Jack. In the event that there are more than three living men with the same surname in the family, that's when they start reaching for the Given Names Of In-Laws We Like and might introduce a new name into the lineup.

*Names changed for privacy above and hereafter, but you get the idea.

So if any of your characters are descendants of that grandpa? They may share a first or middle name with one of his siblings. in fact, they may share the SAME first and middle name with a living relative, and be called "Junior" or "Young Firstname" to distinguish them from the relative they were named after.

My mom's family is from England and has a similar tradition: any new girl born into that family gets a name that is based on the name of one of her living female relatives, usually by sharing the same first letter or syllable. Elanor after Eloise, Vivian after Virginia, and also Jenny after Virgnia via 'Ginny' and every variation of Margret ever, which there are way more of than you'd think.

I cannot recommend doing what they did with Male names though: Name literally every boy Bob* for like five generations, and distinguish individuals by middle name (Bob-Howard and Bob-Benjamin) surname (Bob-Jones and Bob-Bailey) or Honorific (Captain Bob, Dr. Bob, Bob Jr.) when yelling out the kitchen window.

Most families have to good sense to not have the same name repeated in a generation, even if it has a shitload of nicknames. A mother and daughter might both be Margrets (with different nicknames), but two sisters or cousins wouldn't be.

If you've got in-laws you like, but their surname didn't carry over to their kids, you can also just use their surname as a first name! "Regan" is a first and last name, as are Riley and Bailey. This works out in some cases but not in others:

I have a pretty rare surname- last time I checked, there's only 14 people with it worldwide. It's similar to two other VERY COMMON Irish Surnames, but spelled different and from a different region. It's also Very Definitely A Surname- nobody would see my surname alone and think its a firstname.

Since I don't want to bandy it about, we'll pretend that it's "Breathnach", which has a similar vibe.

My Iowa family is Enormous and all descended from my Great-Aunt Lilyanne, Emmet-Roy's sister. Being a good catholic girl, Lillyanne took her husband's surname when she married, and most of her descendants still have that surname, and none have Breathnach.

After the last of my grandfathers grandchildren were born my Iowa family was sad- all but one of Emmet-Roy's grandchildren was female, and my male cousin has his father's surname. Assuming that we would all marry and take our spouses names, the Iowa family despaired that that the Breathnach name would die out!

So one of my second cousins decided that she would Carry On The Family Name, by giving it to the son she was carrying as a Firstname.

Yeah.

Being "Breathnach Surname" is bad enough, but this was compounded by the fact that the Iowa family's surname is Thomas.

YEAH.

My poor cousin Beathnach Thomas, who always has to re-do his paperwork because NOBODY ever puts the names in the correct boxes, who had his first name printed on every jersey he ever had because the uniform place went "that can't be right!", who cant buy his own beer because he's had so many drivers licenses confiscated because liquor store owners and bartenders think his ID is a fake, who has to not only spell his name to everyone he meets, but explain it too.

Then I made it worse.

I ran into cousin Beathnach in Bozeman, Montana quite by accident a few years ago, and while catching up, I mentioned that I was married.

"You know, it's a real hassle, but I'm kind of glad I've got the name I do. I'd heard you sister changed her name, and now with you married- I'd be sad to think we were running out of Breathnachs, you know?" he laughed.

I had to explain.

I married the most wonderful man in the world, who has an extremely common first and last name. Which was kind of a problem, because he shares it with some truly rotten people that always come up during background checks and he has have to explain he's not THAT asshole. It also sounds like and is only a letter or two off a lot of other very common names so his mail is constantly sent awry.

My husband will shortly abandon his too-common-for-comfort surname and become the newest Breathnach, taking the total to 15 (the paperwork takes a while).

...So the name lives on through us anyway, and poor cousin Breathnach Thomas went through all that for no reason. He got very quiet, got up from the table and walked outside to the veranda of the restaurant we were in to stare into the picturesque scenery for a while.

"Well, it's not like people change their first names..." he sighed, when he returned to the table.

"...You know how my sister changed her name? She only changed her first name. She's still a Breathnach." I explained quietly.

I've never seen a man look so haunted.

"I know lots of people who've changed their first names, actually. Mostly for transgender reasons, but a bunch because they just didn't like the one they were given." I added, because if he's going to get his world turned over, it's best to flip it all at once.

His brow furrowed at the ponderous speed of a continental collision, approaching the idea with caution. "...I'll have to think about it."

It's been about a year, but since then, I'll get a text from him every few weeks, auditioning a new given name. I do my best to be fair- I give him the meanings of those names, how they're likely to be misconstrued (some are tolerable annoyances, some pose a safety risk), and if he'd be sharing that name with anybody notable or troublesome. The first few were clearly based on Breathnach, but he began to branch out, and the trend of names has indicated that the idea of Naming Himself is causing my cousin to examine himself, and come to some Realizations (TM).

I realize I have gotten completely off-topic from your actual ask, but I urge you to really get into the nuance of nomencalture, because a name can tell a fascinating story.

[hy6erion]

Hear ye! I have a request my liege, how about a fem reader trying to win over viktor multiple times but fails all attempts until it is revealed he does in fact reciprocate🤭

𝐈𝐧 𝐃𝐮𝐞 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬-𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠. 𝐀𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧.

𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐦𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐱𝐱

You were nothing if not persistent.

Viktor was sharp, focused, and hopelessly oblivious to the fact that you were doing everything in your power to win him over. It wasn’t that he was cold—far from it. He was kind in that absentminded, half-listening way of a man too buried in his work to notice the very obvious signs of affection right in front of him.

And so, you tried. Again. And again.

Attempt #1: The Lunch Offer

Your first plan was simple: food.

You had spent hours preparing something special, something homemade, something that you knew he’d like. You weren’t the best cook, but you had carefully followed every step of the recipe, determined to impress him.

Approaching his workspace, you cleared your throat, balancing the carefully wrapped meal in your hands.

“Viktor?”

He didn’t look up. His fingers twitched slightly as he adjusted the mechanism he was working on, the dim light of the laboratory casting sharp shadows along his face. His brow was furrowed in thought, lips parted slightly as if he were mid-calculation.

You tried again.

“Viktor, I made lunch for you.”

That got his attention. He blinked, finally shifting his gaze toward you. His golden eyes flickered between you and the carefully packed meal in your hands.

“You did?”

You nodded enthusiastically, setting it down on his cluttered desk. “Yeah! I figured you probably haven’t eaten much today, so I thought I’d bring you something homemade.”

A pause. Viktor regarded the meal with mild curiosity before offering you a small, appreciative smile. “That’s thoughtful of you, thank you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Progress.

But then— Without hesitation, Viktor picked up his fork, poked at the food once, then twice, before taking a single bite. He chewed slowly, his expression unreadable.

Your fingers curled anxiously. “So? What do you think?”

“…It’s interesting,” he said diplomatically.

Your stomach dropped. “Interesting?”

He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “I appreciate the effort.”

You deflated.

“I might have miscalculated the salt,” you admitted sheepishly.

Viktor, ever the gentleman, coughed lightly. “Ah, yes. A bit… potent.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Okay, okay, I get it! It’s bad, isn’t it?”

He chuckled, nudging the plate slightly away but still offering you a kind smile. “Not bad. Just… an acquired taste.”

You groaned. First attempt: failure.

Attempt #2: The Book Gift

You knew Viktor loved books. It was one of the few things that could pull his attention away from his work—albeit briefly.

So, you found a rare book on Hextech theories and wrapped it neatly, tying a ribbon around it for good measure.

You waited until he was in a rare moment of relaxation—well, as close to relaxation as Viktor ever got. He was seated at his desk, flipping through his notes with a cup of tea beside him.

Perfect timing.

“Viktor,” you called softly, holding out the book.

He turned, glancing at you before his gaze landed on the package in your hands. “What’s this?”

“A gift,” you said, smiling. “I thought you might like it.”

His brow furrowed slightly, curiosity shining in his eyes as he reached for the book. He unwrapped it carefully, the ribbon slipping off with ease. When he saw the title, his lips parted in surprise.

“You found this?”

You grinned. “I did! It took some effort, but I figured you’d love it.”

For a moment, he seemed genuinely touched. His fingers traced the spine of the book as he flipped through the first few pages, skimming the text.

“Oh, this is the outdated version.”

Your smile froze. “…What?”

Viktor tilted his head slightly, scanning the pages. “This edition was published before Heimerdinger updated his findings on Hextech decay rates. The later editions corrected a few errors in the theory, particularly in chapters three and five.”

You stared.

He looked up, noticing your expression. “…Not that I don’t appreciate it!” he added quickly. “It’s a thoughtful gift, truly. I will still read it.”

You sighed dramatically. “I was trying to impress you, you know.”

Viktor blinked. “Impress me?”

“Yes! And instead, I gave you an outdated book!”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It’s not about the edition. It’s the effort that counts.”

You folded your arms. “So I failed, huh?”

His lips quirked up. “Not at all. You are very persistent.”

Not exactly the answer you wanted, but you supposed it wasn’t a complete loss.

Attempt #3: The Stargazing Invitation

This time, you were going for romance.

You had set up a small spot on the Academy’s rooftop, a cozy little corner with blankets, pillows, and even a small lantern to give off a warm glow. The sky was clear, the stars bright. It was the perfect atmosphere.

Now all you needed was Viktor.

Dragging him away from his work had been no easy task. He had resisted at first, insisting he had equations to finish and calibrations to check, but you had practically pulled him by the arm, determined.

When you finally reached the rooftop, you gestured grandly. “Tada!”

Viktor looked around, brow raised. “…You brought me here to sit on the ground?”

You huffed. “Not just sit—stargaze. Relax. Take a break.”

He hesitated before carefully lowering himself onto the blankets. His cane rested beside him as he leaned back, gaze flickering toward the night sky.

You watched him closely. “What do you think?”

He was quiet for a long moment, then finally spoke. “…It’s peaceful.”

Success!

Encouraged, you scooted closer. “I thought you could use a moment to breathe. You work too hard.”

Viktor hummed, seemingly considering your words. “Perhaps you are right.”

You turned your head to look at him, the glow of the lantern casting soft shadows along his sharp features. He looked beautiful like this—lost in thought, his golden eyes reflecting the starlight.

Heart pounding, you gathered your courage. “Viktor… can I ask you something?”

He glanced at you, intrigued. “Of course.”

You swallowed. “Have you ever… thought about taking a break? Not just from work, but from everything. Spending time with someone. Maybe… me?”

Viktor blinked.

Then, with all the grace of a man absolutely oblivious—

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to burden you with that,” he said sincerely.

You stared.

He continued, oblivious to the weight of your question. “My work is demanding, and I would not want you to feel neglected. Relationships require time and attention, and I would hate for you to be disappointed.”

You nearly groaned out loud.

For a man as brilliant as Viktor, he could be painfully clueless.

With a resigned sigh, you flopped back onto the blanket, staring up at the stars. Another attempt, another failure.

—

You weren’t expecting much when you walked into the lab that evening.

In fact, you were expecting nothing at all.

After weeks of trying—pouring your heart into homemade meals, thoughtful gifts, and starry rooftop nights—you had resigned yourself to the truth: Viktor either didn’t notice your feelings, or he didn’t want to notice them.

And honestly? You were tired.

You had been visiting him less and less, not completely avoiding him, but pulling back just enough to protect yourself. You still cared—you would always care—but unrequited love wasn’t something you could keep torturing yourself with.

So when you stepped into the lab that night, you told yourself you were just here for work. Nothing else.

Jayce and Viktor were deep in conversation when you entered. Jayce stood by Viktor’s desk, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips. Viktor, seated, was scribbling something furiously in his notebook, barely acknowledging his friend’s presence.

They both turned when they saw you.

“Oh, hey!” Jayce greeted, his usual easy-going grin in place. “Haven’t seen you around much lately.”

Viktor’s head snapped up so fast you almost thought he hurt himself. His eyes flickered to you, studying your expression for a fraction of a second before returning to his notes.

You forced a small smile, holding up a stack of reports. “Just dropping these off.”

You moved to place them on Viktor’s desk, careful not to linger, but Jayce’s next words stopped you in your tracks.

“You know,” he mused, voice dripping with playful amusement, “for someone who constantly complains when she’s not around, you sure don’t act like it, Vik.”

Silence.

The kind of silence that immediately thickened the air, made it heavy, charged.

Your brain took a full three seconds to register what Jayce had just said.

You blinked. “Wait. What?”

Viktor froze.

His pen, mid-stroke, halted against the page. His entire body went rigid, his fingers tightening around the notebook in his lap.

Jayce, bless his completely oblivious soul, continued without a care in the world. “Yeah, seriously. Every time you’re not here, he—”

“Jayce.”

Viktor’s voice cut through the air like a knife. Low. Sharp. Warning.

Jayce finally seemed to sense the weight of the situation. He looked at Viktor, then at you, then back at Viktor, realization dawning like a slow-motion catastrophe.

“Oh,” he said, blinking. “Ohhh.”

You barely heard him. Your entire focus was on Viktor, who was currently staring a hole into his notebook as if he could will the conversation out of existence. His grip on his pen was so tight you thought it might snap in half.

You took a step closer. “Viktor,” you started carefully, “is that true?”

He didn’t answer. Your stomach twisted.

Jayce shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh—”

“Leave.”

It was barely more than a breath, but Jayce immediately straightened. “Yeah. Yep. That’s my cue. I am—definitely—leaving.”

And then, with the speed of a man fleeing imminent death, he was gone.

The door shut behind him, leaving you alone with Viktor.

And still—he didn’t look at you.

You took a slow breath, willing your voice to stay steady. “Viktor.”

Nothing.

So you took another step closer, moving carefully, deliberately, until you were standing directly beside him. Close enough to see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was clenched just a little too tight.

“…Is it true?” you asked again, quieter this time.

A long, heavy pause.

Then—finally—he exhaled. A slow, controlled breath, like he was preparing for something.

“…Yes.”

Your heart stuttered.

He still didn’t look at you. His eyes remained fixed on the desk, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm against his notebook.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way your pulse was hammering in your ears. “Then why—?”

“Because it is irrelevant.”

That caught you off guard. “What?”

Viktor let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You deserve someone who is not married to his work. Someone who can give you their full attention, not just stolen moments between projects.”

Your chest ached. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

He went still.

Slowly—hesitantly—he finally turned to look at you.

His golden eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, were guarded. Careful. But beneath that, beneath the walls he so carefully constructed, there was something else.

Something hesitant. Something fragile.

Something real.

“…You would grow tired of me,” he said quietly. “Of the late nights. Of the exhaustion. Of the way I forget to eat unless someone reminds me.”

You stared at him, barely able to breathe. “Viktor—”

“I am not good at this,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I do not know how to—” He stopped, inhaled sharply, then exhaled again. “I do not know how to be what you need.”

Something in your chest cracked open.

You reached for his hand before he could pull away. Your fingers brushed against his—warm, steady, certain.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” you said softly. “You just have to be you.”

Viktor stared at your intertwined fingers like they were some kind of impossible equation.

Like he wanted to believe you, but didn’t quite know how.

“…And if I disappoint you?” he asked, his voice barely more than a breath.

You squeezed his hand. “Then I’ll let you know. And we’ll figure it out. Together.”

His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to argue. But for once—for once—he didn’t.

Instead, after a long, drawn-out moment, he simply closed his fingers around yours.

Not tightly. Not desperately.

Just enough.

A quiet, tentative acceptance.

“…You are remarkably persistent,” he murmured, the smallest, softest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

You huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Viktor shook his head, exhaling something that almost sounded like a chuckle. “Jayce is going to be insufferable about this.”

You grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

And then—finally, finally—Viktor let himself relax.

[itelya]

synopsis: valentines day with your boyfriend/husband.

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

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

words: 2690.

Kento N.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gojo S.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geto S.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Happy Valentine’s Day too, Geto.”

Toji F.

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

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

“Here.”

“…What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sukuna R.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Choso K.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Megumi F.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yuji I.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

masterlist

requests: OPEN.

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

[minus-plus-zer0]

Valentine's Day Special - First Chocolates

“Um… Happy Valentine’s Day, Bakugou!”

Bakugou gawked at you like you had grown two heads. There you were, in his bedroom, hands outstretched to offer him your best homemade chocolates. You knew nobody ever bothered to give Bakugou chocolates before, so you didn’t know what to expect next despite knowing the boy better than anyone. 

From his seat at his desk, Bakugou took the cute pink box from your hands and gingerly opened it, popping a chocolate into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. 

“Well?” you asked. “Do you like it?”

“‘Course I do,” he spat. “But… why’re you giving me these?”

You tilted your head quizzically. “…Because we’re best friends?”

Bakugou paused, scrutinizing your answer.

“You give any of your other ‘best friends’ delicious chocolates?” Bakugou asked, sneering at the thought. 

“I did give some to Kirishima, Todoroki, and Midoriya…” Bakugou’s face darkened with every name you listed. “But I made yours extra special! Because we’re so close!”

Bakugou’s face slowly broke into a wide grin. “S’that so? Sounds about right! Next year, you don’t gotta give those guys chocolates. Just give ‘em all to me.”

Bakugou spent the rest of the day eating your chocolates in front of all his lonely and single friends whenever they came to bother him. He also paraded you around Kirishima, Todoroki, and Midoriya in particular, often walking up to these boys and smacking his lips as he chewed through your super special chocolate to make his intentions quite clear. 

Of course, the Bakusquad swarmed Bakugou in the dorms and asked him one very important question that even Bakugou was still wondering about. 

“Are they friendship chocolates?” Ashido asked. “Or romance chocolates?”

“What, it ain’t obvious?” Bakugou replied, having no clue himself. “Such a dumb question.”

Bakugou looked away with a huff, but he could never give the Bakusquad a straight answer. Whenever they interrogated you for details, Bakugou not-so-discreetly glanced over his shoulder to check your response. 

You merely replied, “It’s a secret.”

This frustrated the Bakusquad (and Bakugou) to no end, but you weren’t quite yet ready to tell your true feelings to anyone, at least not in public. It wasn’t until much later that same day when Bakugou caught you for some alone time in your bedroom that he brought up the question again. 

“Hey…” Bakugou said, sitting alongside you on your bed with a concerned expression. “Next month, I’m gonna totally outdo the gift you just gave me. But don’t go taking gifts from other guys. I’m not gonna give anything to other people either. Remember, it’s just gotta be our thing, ya know?”

You hid your face a little in your hands to cover your embarrassment from his sweet statement. “Oh, okay! Anything for my best friend!”

“Good.” Bakugou steeled himself to say his next piece. “That means we’re officially exclusive from now on. And the only gifts we’re gonna give each other are gonna be special, right?”

He was genuinely wondering about your answer judging by the bit of desperation behind his words. He was so cute sometimes. You needed to tell him the truth.

You beamed at him playfully. “Well of course! I can’t just give everyone romance chocolates, now can I?”

Bakugou appeared surprised for a second before breaking out into a satisfied and proud grin.

“‘Course not,” Bakugou said, his heart pounding as he leaned over to eagerly kiss you.

(I still exist! I have just been busy with real life and I am sick. Thankfully I was able to get this post out in time!)

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Have you done Hanma relationship hcs before? If you have, feel free to ignore this!

Sure, here are some being in a relationship with Hanma ones!

He's very confident about what you like, he seems to have no problem at all picking things out for you and bringing them too you, you're not sure how he does it.

Wakes you up with kisses often

Doesn't get genuine compliments that often so you can catch him off guard when he does get them. Normally laughs them off after

He loves to give you compliments though, especially if they fluster you, he thinks it's very amusing and will purposely try to.

Knows when you're lying or keeping things from him (it's very hard when you want to surprise him) he's very observant of you. 

Falls asleep on you a lot (conveniently trapping you under him often). You're sure he does this on purpose.

He likes perfumes a lot, not on himself particularly but he appreciates and notices when you wear it.

You're pretty much responsible for any wounds he get's, he's not bothered by them and won't bandage them but he'll let you do it if you want.

Takes a lot of pictures of you but then doesn't show them to you, normally you have to bargain with him if you want to see them (price is usually a kiss).

Sings very loudly, and he has no problem singing for you (going out for your birthday means he'll sing happy birthday loudly in public)

Also does a lot of pda in public, he really doesn't care who's watching 

Moves around a bit in his sleep, when sharing a bed with him you will sometimes get kicked in the middle of the night or suddenly pulled towards him.

Despite the kind of wild wedding all of his friend's imagine him wanting, he actually just wants something small and intimate when he get's married. 

Will steal little bits of food from your plate, pays you back with kisses and cheeky grins. 

He  started using pet names ironically/ as a joke at first but then actually realises he likes it.

Likes soft things, including your hair, will sometimes just stroke it when relaxing with you.

It's very hard for you to leave the house because Hanma always wants a goodbye kiss. 

Will fake being hurt by you in a clear overly the top way if you say anything even slightly bad about him, like if you ask him to slow down because he's walking too quickly, it's just his way of playing though and he will slow down. 

Is also very unpredictable, picks you up and carries you at the most random times.

Promises to drive safely when you ride with him (he has no such promises when he's riding alone though)

Will make someones life hell if they mess with you

There's a lot of suggestive language and nsfw talk in your relationship, Hanma loves to see your reaction to it, especially if he whispers it in your ear.

Grins whenever you call him your boyfriend 

Jokes a lot about getting you some tattoos to match his

Insists on bathing with you a lot, seems to enjoy washing your hair, also likes it when you wash his for him.

And finally, one time he tried to make you a birthday cake but messed it up, so then he called Kisaki for help but Kisaki had no idea either. Two burnt cakes later and they eventually settle for a store bought cake. It's the thought that counts?????

[pastlivesxpastlie]

Get Below Me vol 1💘

Simp!RoommateVessel x Virgin!Fem!Reader

Fluffy fluffy fluffy expo- some mentions of male masturbation - Vessel’s a bit of a weirdo - shy!reader - Both are obsessed with other and weird about it - Vessel wants to be your first - pacing is weird but hey 🍍

Volume 2 (the smut chapter) will be out this weekend. Happy Valentine’s Day!

taglist: @lifemod17 @glitterghost @inv3ga @adenobabe @jeriiicho @milk--bones @myaudiocommentary @horsebiologist @intake-of-breath @fruitsandcheese @0hg00dgirl @goosepond69 @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @lynzeequitlollygagging @thatxxjiyong-ssi @cloudy-soul @daddysaidbringthethunder @evisnotok @cheomain @chaosandchaos @sage-m-sepia @dreamer-lost-in-wonderland

The minute Vessel sat down on the loveseat, nothing mattered. Your roommate dominated your attention. The show you were binging? Stupid. The rabbit hole you were falling down on your phone to occupy you while you were watching tv? Irrelevant. Your eyes were on him. You didn’t care if he walked around without a shirt on. Guys could do that. And you’ve survived seeing him in tighter sweats, surely. Just breathe.

You realize you’re biting your lip when he gets your attention.

“Are you alright?”

That’s when you also realize you’re eye fucking him while he plays on his Switch Lite. He’s making zero effort to be hot and yet…no. Save that thought for later.

“I…just got…” think think think “…really hungry! Be right be back. heh!”

You scurry into the kitchen, trying not to clamp your thighs together for relief as you “look for snacks.” You’re taking some deep square breaths to calm down when…

“Looking for snacks in the dark?” Vessel asks flatly after switching on the kitchen light. He’s leaning in the doorway, taking up more space than normal. His arm is resting against the top of the frame. Blocking you in. “Bit difficult that.”

You gulp and shake your head. “I uhm…using the light on my phone.”

“Your phone’s on the sofa.”

Fuck. He isn’t even looking at you like a predator. Hes looking at you like…Like he’s confused. Because he is. You did this often—scurrying away when there was no real conversation happening. Did you not like him? Certainly you did. There was no denying the mutual attraction but something kept you away. Maybe you were scared of silence. But what you should have been scared of was the thing that scared Vessel: how badly he needed you. No man of his age should “simp.” He’s a successful, intelligent, well-off guy. Finally he has to ask, calling out to you as you walk back into the living room.

“Why don’t you bring guys here? I genuinely wouldn’t mind if you did,” he says knowing full well he’d cry himself to sleep if you brought home some man and had to see the very same “some man” leave in the morning. He sits back on the chair across from you and waits to hear what you have to say, even though you look mortified.

“I…I don’t really date.”

Oh. This is a surprise. “Do you not…are you….”

“Hah it’s…no I’d like to. I just…I’m a late bloomer is all. Virgin…”

Vessel shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. “No worries. That’s not a bad thing necessarily. But…are you..I don’t know. Lonely? You’re so gorgeous and…”

“You think I’m gorgeous?” Your cheeks warm up.

He blushes and looks down. “Yes.” Vessel shrugs with a shy smile. “I…I doubt you even think…remotely similar to m—“

“No Ves, you…you’re… I think you’re so ha—.” You don’t even finish your sentence. He should know. He has to know. “Anyways. I’m at the point in my life where I want my first time to be with someone I’m sure about. A lot of my baggage is from just…giving ‘it’ up and by ‘it,’ I mean ‘me.’” You sigh heavily and look away. “Not trying to be prude about these things. I’m just scared. Scared of choosing the wrong person and ruining that part of my life. The uncertainty kills me.”

Vessel leans his elbows on his knees and looks at you lovingly. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Honestly it’s admirable but…you can’t live in fear. Easier said than done but…”

There’s a knowing look between you two. It’s a delicate, tender moment. “Ves…”

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you bring girls over?”

Silence. He chews at his lip and sighs. “Hey…listen…” he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to avoid that question by asking you something that makes me feel just as awkward.” You don’t protest. Instead you shift a little and nod. “What if we, like, you and me…would you go out with me sometime? Maybe? Like for…fun?”

“Wow Ves, for fun? You know how to treat a girl,” you snicker.

He rolls his eyes and groans, rubbing his face hard with his wide hands. “Don’t be daft, honestly.” He shakes his weary head and bites his lip, taking in your pretty face. “Just put me out of my misery and reject me already. Can I take you out sometime?”

Yeah, ok. “Reject him.” You couldn’t if you tried. You two took things slow. Almost painfully slow, but this was important to both of you. Very much so to Vessel, but he didn’t want to show it too much. He wanted to be brave for you. A perfect boyfriend, if you’d allow him that. It was all going to plan.

From the moment you inquired about the room for rent, he was drawn to you. But again, he couldn’t show that. How creepy would that look? A tall and imposing but otherwise gentle (on the outside) guy insisting that a pretty, single girl like you share his townhouse might raise eyebrows. He was cool. Aloof, but not apathetic. He wanted you in his house on your terms. That’s all. And as he hoped, you were falling for him. He was already there. Just biding his time until you caught up. Until then, it was night after night imagining how nice it would be to strike. To make the first move and just show you how shamelessly…how gleefully obsessed with you he is. Vessel spent so many nights fucking his own fist, staring at his closed bedroom door just willing you to catch him. But you were a good girl. You’d never barge in unannounced unless there was an emergency. So good. The best girl, in his estimation. Why couldn’t you barge in? Why couldn’t you be just a little more of the vixen Vessel knows is hiding underneath your surface.

It was Valentine’s Day. A five whole weeks since Vessel asked you out. That also meant five weeks of…tooth rotting happiness. You were beside yourself. You still had absolutely no idea how long he wanted this. Wanted you. And in his mind, the less you knew was better. He just wanted you to let it happen and accept that you were his. He was yours. And he wanted this night to be special.

[eyelambspider]

hey I love ur writing.

Can you please do like any other the cod men x a chubby reader who's rlly self conscious and stuff??

idk it's rlly self indulgent

ty ♡ and its alright, I write readers like this! as for the characters and content, i sort of put a bit of everything for you soooo- here ya go!

♡ Hold You || COD Hcs

┊pairing : gn!reader x price, gaz, soap, ghost ┊content warning : fluff, hurt/comfort, nsfw, angst ┊a/n : the last hc zaps my brain so fiercely

soap! unprompted would always compliment you. its assurance, sure, but he genuinely loves your body.

soap! will always steal glances at your hips, waist, arms and hands. he would love physical affection in anyway. cuddling, or always having a hand on you gently. (it happens so often that he doesn't even notice he's doing it)

soap! is speaking to someone but his fingers are gently rubbing formless circles on your thigh or brushing his knuckles against your soft hands as if he wants to hold it.

price! would love your thighs. to feel them warming his ears and over his shoulders, his face nestled in your heat and savoring you with his tongue.

price! doesn't let you try to squirm away or try to hide if your shy. his hands are always on your hips and sides, skimming up under your shirt to feel your stomach.

the taskforce men who especially love to trace the stretchmarks on your skin. fingertips gently marveling at how soft the skin is.

ghost! just picking you up like nothing despite your worried protests. his hands sliding under your thighs and ass to hoist you up onto a counter to kiss you and smother your mumbles.

ghost! likes when you wear what you like. he might not say much when he first catches you wearing a shirt that's not baggy and actually fits you well. his brown eyes always linger a bit too long in their usual 'nonchalant' manner before they soften, like he's smiling under his mask.

gaz! this man would love sleeping with you. you are the warmest damned thing he's ever held and it shouldn't surprise you when you wake up the morning to have him practically laying on you. his head on your chest or stomach, arms on either side of you and body between your legs.

gaz! has boundless patience and time solely for you when you're having a really bad day. crying and so unsure about your body and how you look. anything you need, he'll get it for you. sitting with you, tucking a blanket around both of your laps and letting your head rest on his chest until your mind is off of it. whisper assurances that you're perfect into your temple... but most importantly, just hold you close.

(with love from @lady-boketto) ghost! sending you a video of him bench pressing your weight when you try to worry about him carrying you all the time.

[captain-huggy-bear]

The New Guy

Pairing: Kiefer Sherwood x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Sexual innuendo

Summary: You have an interesting first interaction with the new Canuck, Kiefer Sherwood.

Notes: Request from @toasttt11: I went with a close friend of Quinn rather than sister because that way more people can relate but I hope this is the kinda vibe you were after for this :)

A short little one, but hopefully funny/silly

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You've seen more trades than you can possibly comprehend in your time as Quinn's best friend. Witnessed the way everyone grew solemn as a friend and teammate had to leave suddenly to somewhere else, sometimes right before a game, sometimes in the off season. Saw how difficult it was when they were opponents, rivals rather than teammates for the first time in years. But, also the excitement when someone new came in and no one was more excited for this particular acquisition than Quinn.

Your best friend had pushed so hard, so much for the team to get Kiefer Sherwood and it meant that the day of his official signing, official joining, Quinn was abuzz, or at least as abuzz as Quinn can get, which meant slightly less haunted than usual. Some of the usual stress of being captain having been lifted from his shoulders with the prospect of a new teammate to help them win the Stanley Cup.

"He's going to be so good for the team, Y/N. We need a solid enforcer, someone to make big hits." He'd been ranting on and rambling all day about how good Sherwood would be for the team and it was starting to dull the shine, just a little. You couldn't help but roll your eyes as the two of you walked through the corridors of the arena.

"You've only said about a thousand times." You're happy for Quinn and the team, of course you are. The excitement palpable as you stop outside the locker room. You can't even deny that you are a little excited yourself to meet the 6ft tall forward, a new teammate for Quinn usually meant a new friend for you...it helped that he was handsome and that meant another face to ogle at when you were in the stands watching the games. You liked having a little bit of eye candy in your day, not that you'd tell Quinn that. He'd probably complain that you were a HR incident waiting to happen.

"Hey! I mean it. This is our year!" Quinn smiles at you in such a genuinely hopeful way that you really hope he's right. Being captain has meant he takes every error, every loss onto his own shoulders. You really hope Sherwood and the team prove Quinn right, for Quinn's sake more than anything else.

"He better be nice, that's all I'm saying, if he treats me like a coffee girl I'm going to enforce him." You cross your arms over your chest as if you might fight someone, quite hilarious when you consider the sorts of men you're surrounded by on the daily. Still, you're determined not to be undermined or treated like just a pretty face, casual workplace sexism was not something you were going to allow. You hoped this new guy wasn't one of those hockey players. You'd dealt with your fair share in your life and couldn't stand them.

"What does that even mean?" Quinn huffs out a laugh at you, shaking his head at you because he loves you, but fuck, you can be so weird sometimes. You remind him a little of Luke. A little weird, a little strange but in the best sort of way. Endearingly bizarre.

"It means he'll get shoved into the boards." He might be 6ft and 200lbs but you're pretty sure that with the element of surprise you could get Kiefer Sherwood into the boards if he annoyed you enough. Maybe even onto his back on the ice with a well aimed stick to the ankles.

"Y/N." Quinn seems to disagree, it's quite insulting actually, the way he looks at you like you're mad. Like your smaller stature makes it impossible.

"You don't think I can do it? I've shoved Luke into the lake before."

"Lukey is a bean pole and loves you, so he let you." You're actually quite hurt that Quinn is convinced the Luke let you shove him into the lake when you know that you did so on your own merit and skill.

"You think I can't shove Kiefer Sherwood into some boards? You think I'm weak!"

"Y/N." Quinn's gaze shifts behind you, just over your shoulder but you don't take much notice of it. He's probably looking at one of the arena workers.

"This...you're supposed to be my best friend. I could take him! I could definitely take Kiefer Sherwood!" You're actually a little hurt that Quinn doesn't seem to think you're capable of taking Kiefer Sherwood in a fight. Even if he's probably right. Sherwood could probably toss you like you're a doll...an appealing thought depending on the circumstances behind it.

"Y/N!" It's the urgency behind Quinn yelling your name and the way his stare is directed above your head, mixed with the hint of a laugh that tells you you're about to be terribly embarrassed.

There's a beat of silence, your shoulders tensing, mouth pursing in realisation.

"...He's right behind me, isn't he?" Quinn nods in confirmation, holding back a laugh as you briefly close your eyes, trying to swallow the embarrassment that you can feel rising in you like a wave. Not the best first impression you've ever made.

You turn to look behind you once you've composed yourself. Kiefer Sherwood is there, leaning against the wall with one shoulder, arms crossed and smirking at you. He looks frustratingly handsome, perfectly rugged and dishevelled from the dimples around his smirk to the dark curls that seemed to fall perfectly around his face. He looks...big too. The only accurate way to describe him, broad shouldered, solid, like he's immovable and perhaps you'd overestimated your ability to fight the man. Perhaps Quinn was right. But, you're certain you could take him...just maybe not in a fight.

"You can shove me into the boards any time you want, princess." The way he looks at you, all dark half lidded eyes and long lashes, makes warmth flood through your entire body, but mostly ending in your face. You're certain your cheeks are on fire with how warm they are.

"Kief, don't flirt with my best friend." You want to tell Quinn off because Kiefer Sherwood can certainly flirt with you if he wants, especially if he looks at you like that. You did not need the overprotective best friend act right now.

"But, she's cute." His eyes don't leave you even as he responds to Quinn, like he's still talking to you.

"Kief."

"Alright, alright..." He pushes off of the wall, practically sauntering over to you, stopping a few feet short, respectable enough to give you space, but there's nothing respectable about the smirk he's still sporting. "Still think you could take me?"

"Oh, definitely." There's absolutely no mistaking the way you lower your voice, the coy tone to it, the fact that you most certainly don't mean in a fight. It has Kiefer throwing his head back with a loud, rumbling laugh while Quinn all but hisses at you like a scolding parent.

"Y/N!"

Yeah, you think you might like the new guy...maybe more than you should.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

alrighty, i come to you for your thoughts on frank or matt, totally cool with either, with an emotional and sensitive reader, and maybe one of thr guys say something about a quirk of the reader, they meant it jokingly, but reader doesn't take it that way. they get defensive or try to maybe change that quirk, not wanting them to find them annoying cause of the people in their life, and the guys are so quick to apologize once they realize.

idk, i tend to be sensitive myself and always that people pleasing tendency to change myself if someone makes a slight comment, or cry over it 😭😂 so hearing an apology through them seems very helpful lol

Hello dear! I hope you’re having a good weekend.

And I HEAR YOU about being sensitive. I’m a sensitive girly myself, which is why I wrote the Reader in my Frank fic (When Skies are Gray) to be so sensitive 😂 I needed an outlet. But I can totally see this being a situation where Frank and Matt end up with their feet LODGED in their respect mouths.

This got LONG so I’m going to put it under a cut.

Matt

For Matt, I think he would genuinely be remarking on a quality he liked about you, not knowing he was treading on thin ice.

Like maybe he gets home late from work and you’re already bursting at the seams, excited to tell him every little detail about your day. The moment he steps through the door, you’re squealing and darting to kiss him hello. Immediately, he’s chuckling, happily accepting the tiny pecks you plant on his nose and cheeks.

He lets you eagerly tangle your hands together, tugging him inside and towards the couch as the words start pouring out of your mouth.

“Hi, Matty! How was your day? Did you win your case? Oh that reminds me! I picked up dinner for you! And the funniest thing happened on the way home!!”

You’re leaving room for him to respond, of course, but you can’t help the sheer giddiness you feel every time you’re in his presence. Matt loves it, of course. It makes him feel wanted, feel loved. But when he brushes a hand over your arm and gently cuts you off, it makes you freeze.

“I can’t wait to hear more about your day beautiful. Let me run and change first, then I’m all yours.” There’s a beautiful grin on his lips as he makes the offer, but it’s hard to focus on that when you suddenly can’t breathe.

Matt might not have meant anything by the comment, but many people before him had. Suggesting you were too much, too loud, too self-involved—seeing your excitement as a nuisance. Your mind immediately goes to that place, the defensive little corner you always felt pushed in when people picked on you. The echo chamber of self-doubt that suggested you fold yourself into something easier to swallow.

Your heart is lodged in your throat as he leaves to change, your lungs straining to take in oxygen around the obstacle. You shrink in on yourself instinctively, sitting on the edge of the couch like you don’t deserve to relax, to be comfortable in his home when you’ve taken up so much space already.

When Matt comes back, there’s a soft smile on his face. One that quickly falls when he registers your stuttering breaths and downward gaze. “What, what happened, sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

He sees right through your little fib of “Nothing,” dragging you into his lap with his amazing strength.

“If nothing’s wrong, you won’t mind telling me that funny story then, will you?” You shouldn’t be surprised that he can pick up on the root of the issue that easily, he reads your thoughts as if they’re transcribed just for him.

You duck into his neck bashfully. “You sure you want to hear it?”

Matt squeezes you tightly, hands splaying over your back and shoulder. “Of course I do! I love listening to you.”

After your story, he prods a bit further, investigating the cause of the sensitivity and assuring you that he loves the way you greet him when he comes home.

Rather than avoiding it entirely, I think Matt would honestly compliment your quirks even more going forward. I don’t think he’d have a single problem dating someone who was on the sensitive side. I actually think he’d love that about you!! (Even if it confused him at times)

I’ll probably reblog with Frank thoughts! But here’s this for now!

[cherievivi]

broken hearts and shattered blades

taigavivi (selfship!!), 919 words, lots of anger im very angry in this one, knives, quite a bit of blood actually

THIS is the actual first meeting. ignore the other fics

The dimly lit casino hummed with chatter and the clinking of coins, but all you could hear was the pounding of your own heart as you stared at the table in front of you. The air was thick with smoke and the nauseating sound of mock laughter, a fitting backdrop for your loss. Across the table, Taiga leaned back, eyeing you with boredom. His signature, cocky grin was too overwhelming for you to look at. All you could focus on was his hands, or rather, what was in them.

“Looks like luck ran out on you.” His voice carried that insufferable lilt. Mocking, teasing; he had seen this all before. You were nothing new to him.

You stared at the cards in anger, jaw tightening at how reckless you were being tonight. Every bit of anger, every ounce of frustration, every unresolved emotion from your falling out with Leo that night pounded inside you like lightning hitting the ground. You had come here to drown out your emotions and let the high of gambling override the bitter taste in your mouth. Instead of numbing the ache, the loss made it burn even more.

Taiga chuckled as he raked in the last of your winnings, his movements slow. He was taunting you. Of course he was. What kind of idiot gambles everything they have against him?

Your body moved before you could really think.

With a harsh kick, the table flew aside, sending cards and coins scattering to the floor. Gasps and mutters rose from the crowd, but they didn't matter. All that mattered was the man in front of you. His surprised chuckle was cut short as you pounced at him.

The weight of your knife pressed against his throat, your knee between his as you pinned him to the floor. Where did she get that? How did she get it in?

For the first time since the game began, no, since you walked in, his smirk faltered. Instead of feeling the fear anyone else would have with a knife to their throat, genuine amusement took over his features. His eyes were wide with something dangerously close to delight.

“Feisty,” his voice just as smooth as it was the minutes before, though you could hear him holding back a chuckle. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Your grip on the knife tightened. “Shut up.”

That look of intrigue on his face didn’t waver a bit. Even an incredibly angry girl with nothing to lose holding a knife to his throat wasn't enough to scare him.

Your teeth clenched, and your fingers pressed the blade harder against his throat. A thin line of red ran down his skin. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t squirm. He just watched you as he would a card he was eager to place down.

“What are you really trying to win here?” he asked, voice infuriatingly calm. “Revenge? Control? A way to get rid of that anger?” His grin inched itself back to his lips. “If you wanted to gamble your rage away, you should’ve picked a game you could actually win.”

Crack.

You could've sworn that was your own anger manifesting into a sound, until you felt as the handle of your knife trembled in your grip. The previously sharp edge fracturing under the sheer force you had against it. Another crack splintered through the steel, and then—

The knife shattered.

Shards of metal fell onto Taiga’s chest, along with the blood dripping from your fresh wound. Your hand still held what remained of the knife even as it bled onto Taiga’s chest.

The silence was suffocating. You stayed on top of Taiga, letting your blood pool into his chest and absorb into his shirt.

Taiga let out the breath he didn't know he was holding as he stared at the fragments of your knife and blood on his chest. A low, long whistle left his lips.

“Well, that was unexpected.”

Your heart pounded, but it wasn’t just from anger. The pain in your hand ricocheted throughout your entire body. You couldn't help but stare at how your once smooth hand was split open and bleeding out, even though you didn't want to. It was a disturbing sight.

You stumbled to your feet, almost running into the table you kicked onto the ground earlier. The events of tonight running through your head made it hard to breathe. Losing Leo, losing to Taiga, making a fool of yourself in front of so many people. You couldn't hear yourself, but you could feel the sharp breaths you were taking. Goddammit, now you're hyperventilating in front of an entire casino worth of people? The crowd had fallen deathly silent, and you were hyper aware of their stares. You look down at the man you were just on top of, still lying there, still watching you, still grinning as if you were the best thing he’d ever gambled on.

Your blood dripped onto the floor, leaving another puddle.

You turned as fast as you could, pushing through the onlookers and the door, your head still spinning. You couldn't see properly, but you needed to get out. Now.

Behind you, Taiga sat up, running a finger along his barely scratched throat, and then smearing the blood onto his own hands. His mouth was open in awe.

“Now that,” he whispered to himself, “was one hell of a bet.”

As you left and disappeared into the dark night of Tokyo, leaving behind your broken knife, he hoped you would come back to play another game just as interesting.

[airandyeah]

The Weakest, For You

Valentine’s Day had always been a bit of a joke to Gojo Satoru. A self-proclaimed "Strongest sorcerer," he didn’t exactly have the time or energy for the fluffy traditions of love, flowers, or chocolates. He had too much going on—fighting curses, teaching students, and saving the world to be bothered by something as frivolous as a holiday dedicated to love.

But then… she happened.

Y/N had completely turned his world upside down, and for the first time in a long while, Gojo found himself thinking about more than just the next fight, the next challenge, or the next mission. He thought about her smile, the way her presence seemed to calm the chaotic storm that was his life. How the sight of her eyes lighting up in excitement or laughter made him feel something he couldn’t describe.

So, when Valentine’s Day came around, Gojo knew he couldn’t just let it pass. He couldn’t be the carefree, aloof sorcerer he always was this time. For her, he wanted to show her that he cared, in a way that felt right for both of them.

The morning of Valentine’s Day, Gojo woke up early. He wasn’t one to wake up with the sun, but today felt different. The feeling was both thrilling and strange. After all, what did he know about doing something normal for someone special?

He stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his blindfold, wondering if this was all just a little ridiculous. He was Gojo Satoru—the strongest, the untouchable. Surely, he didn’t need to do all this, right?

But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, his mind wandered to Y/N—the way she’d laugh at his jokes, or how she’d look at him with that smile that melted his heart every time. That was all the answer he needed. He couldn’t just keep being the same old showoff who didn’t care about the little things. For her, he had to step outside his comfort zone.

In the end, Gojo settled on something simple but meaningful. A bouquet of wildflowers—her favorite—and a box of artisan chocolates, the kind that was crafted with care. No flashy, over-the-top gestures like the ones he usually pulled, just something genuine.

With a confident grin, he grabbed the bouquet and chocolates, ready to make it a day she would never forget.

Later that afternoon, Y/N had agreed to meet him at their usual spot—a quiet café tucked away in the corner of the city. She had no idea what to expect from Gojo on Valentine’s Day, and in truth, neither did he. But that only made it more exciting. As always, Gojo was the one who liked to keep things spontaneous, so he was eager to see how it all unfolded.

When she walked into the café, her eyes immediately found him. As usual, he was sitting with that laid-back posture of his, legs stretched out, leaning back in the chair as if the world was his playground. His usual cocky grin was there, but this time, there was something different about him. He seemed more… patient, for lack of a better word.

He waved her over, his usual theatrics on full display. “Hey, beautiful. I got you something.” He pointed to the bouquet of wildflowers and the box of chocolates sitting on the table, his expression as playful as ever.

Y/N blinked in surprise, taken aback by the thoughtful gesture. “Gojo, you… you actually got me flowers?”

He smirked, leaning forward as if it was the most casual thing in the world. “I told you I’m full of surprises.” He handed her the flowers, his voice softening for a moment. “You deserve this.”

She reached out to take the bouquet, her fingers brushing his as she did. “Gojo…” She felt a warmth spread through her chest as she looked at him, noticing how his usual teasing nature was replaced with something more sincere. “This is… really sweet of you.”

“Yeah, well, I guess even the strongest guy around has to know when to show a little bit of heart,” he said, a rare hint of seriousness in his tone. His blindfolded eyes softened as he glanced at her. “I mean it. I don’t think I’ve ever cared about anything the way I care about you. I'm weak for you.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t remember the last time Gojo had spoken so openly, so earnestly. He had always been larger than life, always full of energy and jokes, but there were times, like now, when she saw the true depth of who he was beneath the layers of bravado.

“Gojo…” she started, her voice soft, unsure of how to express everything she was feeling. She wanted to say something about how he made her feel, how he’d changed her world, but the words seemed to catch in her throat.

With a playful grin, Gojo slid the box of chocolates toward her. “I mean, what’s Valentine’s Day without a little chocolate, right? But you’ll have to share, because I’m not gonna let you eat them all by yourself.”

Y/N chuckled, feeling the warmth of the moment settle over her. “I’ll share, but only because you got me flowers.”

“That’s the spirit,” Gojo said with a wink, his usual cocky smile returning. But there was still that undercurrent of sincerity in his eyes, something real.

They sat there together for the rest of the afternoon, sharing chocolates, laughing over stories, and simply enjoying each other’s company. In that moment, Gojo wasn’t the all-powerful sorcerer, the untouchable legend. He was just a man who had fallen for someone, and who, in his own unique way, wanted to show her how much she meant to him.

As they parted ways later that evening, Gojo leaned in, giving her a soft, lingering kiss on the cheek. "Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N," he said quietly, his tone more serious than usual.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Gojo.” Y/N smiled, feeling lighter than she had in a long time.

Gojo watched her walk away, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. For all the battles he had fought, all the powerful opponents he had faced, it was moments like this—simple, genuine moments—that meant the most. ~~~ 2 years had passed since Gojo Satoru’s Valentine’s Day surprise—the flowers, the chocolates, and the rare glimpse of vulnerability beneath his ever-present swagger. That day had marked a turning point in their relationship, and now, 2 years later, it was clear to anyone who saw them together: Gojo Satoru was no longer just the strongest sorcerer. He was her husband, and nothing—no curse, no danger—could change that.

Valentine’s Day had become an annual tradition for them, but this year, Satoru found himself thinking about it more than usual. Perhaps it was because their marriage had grown even stronger with time, or maybe because he wanted to give her something truly special—something beyond the usual antics. After all, she was his equal, his partner, the one person who saw past his flashy exterior to the person he had become with her by his side.

That morning, the sun streamed through the bedroom window, casting a soft glow over their shared space. Satoru was already awake, but he didn’t move right away. Instead, he lay there, watching the love of his life sleep peacefully beside him. Her soft breathing and the slight rise and fall of her chest filled the room with a comforting peace.

He reached out and gently ran a finger through her hair, brushing it away from her face. He couldn’t help but smile. She’s everything.

As the clock ticked on, he quietly got out of bed and went to the kitchen. He had a plan, and it didn’t involve the usual spontaneous, over-the-top surprises. This year, he wanted to make it special—calm, intimate, and perfect for the woman he loved.

When she finally woke up, she was greeted by the warm smell of fresh pancakes and the sound of Satoru humming softly to himself in the kitchen. She smiled sleepily to herself, knowing that no matter how chaotic his life was, he always found a way to make their mornings feel like something out of a dream.

She slipped out of bed and padded into the kitchen, where Satoru was standing in front of the stove, wearing one of his usual cocky grins.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he teased, turning to flash her his trademark wink.

“Good morning, husband,” she replied with a smile, leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed.

Satoru placed a plate of pancakes on the counter and turned to face her. His gaze softened as he took in the sight of her—his wife, the woman who had stood by him through everything. He leaned against the counter, his voice taking on a serious note that she hadn’t heard in a while.

“You know,” he began, “sometimes I can’t believe how lucky I am. A lot of people think I’m invincible, but the truth is, I’ve never felt more... grounded than I do when I’m with you.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, and she walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I’m the lucky one, Toru. You’ve made every day we’ve spent together feel like an adventure, but I know deep down that you’re the one who makes me feel whole."

Satoru smiled softly, his usual bravado replaced by something more tender. "Yeah, well, even the strongest guy around has to show his softer side sometimes." He pulled her closer, resting his forehead against hers. "Today, I wanted to do something different. No flashy surprises, no crazy stunts. Just... us. I thought we’d start the day with something simple, like pancakes and quiet time together."

She chuckled softly, feeling her heart swell at the gesture. "I think that sounds perfect."

After breakfast, they sat together on the couch, sharing stories from their days before they met, reminiscing about how they first came together. The calm, easy comfort they shared made everything feel right. There was no need for grand gestures when the little moments meant so much more.

But Satoru hadn’t forgotten his surprise. With a mischievous grin, he stood up and disappeared into the other room, only to return a moment later holding a small, carefully wrapped box. He presented it to her, his usual playful attitude returning.

"Alright, I couldn’t resist. I had to get you something," he said, eyes twinkling.

Y/N took the box, her curiosity piqued. "You got me something after all this?"

He simply grinned in response. "Open it."

She slowly unwrapped the box, revealing a delicate silver necklace with a small, heart-shaped pendant. The pendant wasn’t just any heart—it was a custom piece, engraved with the coordinates of the place where they first met.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. "Toru… this is…" Her fingers traced the smooth surface of the pendant, a symbol of everything they had shared. "You remembered."

"Of course I did," Gojo replied softly, his grin giving way to a genuine smile. "That day was when everything changed for me. You changed everything. I figured it was about time I gave you something that would remind you of that, every day."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shining with emotion. "It’s beautiful, Toru. Thank you."

"Anything for you," he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "You’re my everything."

They spent the rest of the day together, just enjoying each other’s company. There were no big parties, no extravagant gifts—just a quiet, perfect day. When the evening came, he led her outside, where a small firepit crackled, casting soft light in the cool night. They sat together, cuddled up under a blanket, watching the stars.

"I love you," Satoru whispered, his hand resting gently on hers. "More than anything."

"I love you too," she replied, squeezing his hand in return.

And as the fire flickered between them, they both knew that no matter how much time passed, no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would always have each other. Valentine’s Day, just like every other day, was just another reason to celebrate the love they had found.

Tag: @madamechrissy

[kyupidos]

02/14/25 — twisted wonderland <3

lean into your touch — summary. ‘riddle wants to confess to you. he’s trying not to lean into your touch, but he quite likes your presence.”

characters ;; riddle rosehearts , tags ;; reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader may or may not be yuu ( up to the reader ), romantic fluff

a/n ( OHH ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I WROTE A FIC…oh boy…so this isn’t the best i think, i’m sowwy..but i wanted to get something out for valentine’s day! i intended to write for way more characters than just riddle, but riddle’s was getting so long ( for my taste at least ) and i’ve already been plagued w terrible writer’s block ( hence my break cough ). but hey what’s not to love about riddle and romance <3 i’ll write for other characters w the same concept when i get the chance at least! / oh, and i’m kinda switching up the format?? idk if u can tell.

more under cut!

r. rosehearts

a classical romantic, as expected of riddle. he prepares some roses from the heartslabyul gardens, and spends hours in the mirror of his room practicing a rough draft of the romantic things he has to say to you; because sevens knows he’d end up tripping up here and there if he winged it, and he wants to impress you.

it’s a shame it doesn’t work, though, because of course your presence on such a romantic day gets him flustered when he thinks about the more intimate ideas he shied away from, like going on a secret rendezvous or..’kabedon’ing’? you to confess his love like how he’s read before in romance novels given to him by trey to “study” for his plans with you today.

he succeeds at first, only to be silenced by you getting a bit too close to him, causing his heart to flutter as you just as quickly take hold of his hand, craftily navigating the maze as if you’d practiced going along this specific route.

it was then the two of you were met with one of the maze’s gazebos in a more open area, but to his surprise, it was decorated with a plethora of over the top valentines decorations. in the center, as the two of you approached for easier viewing, he noticed, a little tea set with tea already prepared—still hot, he noticed from the steam emitting from the tea pot, and he can’t help but wonder how far you’d planned this without him knowing.

finally, you bring him to sit beside you, only now letting go of his hand now that you finished guiding him ( though he leaned into the hand hold in defiance for just a split second before realizing how ‘scandalous’ it was ).

“riddle, i know i interrupted your speech, sorry..” you began, and his eyes lit up in slight recognition at the fact you seemed to already be aware of what he was originally planning. “i just wanted a change of scenery i guess!”

riddle immediately nodded his head stiffly, as you prepared the tea for the both of you, and he didn’t fail to notice how you did so while following the tea related rules.

“yes, yes of course..because it’s the most romantic day of the year, correct?”

and just like that, riddle was flustered again as you seemed to smile at him in as much genuinity and warmth you could muster, as if you were congratulating him for getting it ‘correct’.

“exactly!” your smile seemed to grow bigger, and riddle questioned to himself if that was a possible thing, as he looked a bit down from your eyes to notice how you seemed to be a bit nervous and flustered yourself. “you see riddle, since it’s valentines and i’ve been meaning to tell you, i-“

“allow me to finish what i had to say before, [y/n],” he blatantly interrupts, and you wonder if he’s getting back at you for when you did so the first time.

he takes one of the biscuits from the basket laid on the side of the table, and he notes how it doesn’t taste exactly like how trey made it. in fact, it was much more likely you made it yourself, and that alone made him more elated of how far you went for this moment.

“[y/n], i adore you,” and he says this through a shiver down his spine, but he sits up a little more proudly when he notices your more flustered appearance. “and i’d be more than happy if you would be my partner…from now to forever.”

you didn’t respond immediately, but got closer to him, in his personal space as if the table between the two of you didn’t exist in the first place.

“riddle…can i kiss you?” and then you continued, as his breath hitched at the moment, “because i love you too.”

que another moment of stiffness and reddening of his face, which you made a face at that was clearly meant to tease him. he can’t find it in himself to be mad about it, though.

“o-oh…yes, of course! since we’re beloveds now..”

and the moment he approved, you suddenly were leaning in just enough to give him a soft kiss on the lips, before slowly pulling away, leaving him to unconsciously try to lean in to your touch again, before making the choice to control himself as you got up from your chair to approach him more personally.

“let’s go on our own official date then, yeah?”

and this time, he more selfishly leans into your touch as he takes the initiative to hold your hand in his own, joining you as he stood up.

“of course, my…” and he hesitates a bit before you nod, and suddenly he’s much calmer. “my dear. let’s head off then, shall we? i have a much better place for the two of us to spend our time.”

it didn’t go quite as planned, riddle thinks to himself as this time he’s the one who guides you, but at the very least, he can lean into your touch without fail.

thank u for reading!! likes n comments are appreciated!!

[xylatox]

And alas, the final chapter the thorns and flowers, it's such a bittersweet feeling that the end is here.

God I love the change in their relationship like—by the time yeonjun was leaving, he couldn’t be less surprised—and more content—when you were there to hug him goodbye, cozily wrapped into his cardigan and cute fluffy socks he put on you himself to keep you warm. he pecked your nose and promised to text you every free second, as you hugged him tight mumbling that you wouldn’t stop bothering him if he didn’t keep the promise. — they are so cute, but my poor darling reader overthinking it noo :(

The progressive intimacy is so insane like??? I genuinely have no other words but it's so good, it does hurt to see that the busyness(?) made the relationship a bit strained, and the fights:( I'm heartbroken, and I know people can say things in the heat of the moment, but yet my heart really does break when the quarrel occurs. I know this part is the thorns, but it still hurts yknow.

but yeonjun wouldn’t be himself if he let it stay that way—he just hoped you wouldn’t hate him for it—and scooped you up, careful to not let the plushie fall, as he carried you to his bed, laying you down gently and checking that you had everything you needed. he threw one last glance at you before grabbing his own things, including one of his t-shirt that you used to sleep in, now carrying a mix of both your scents, and left the bedroom—it was his obligation to sleep on the couch, never yours.— I know they stoll love each other, but fights still break my heart :(

the bond was back. his soulmate was back too. right when it was the worst possible moment—when he wasn’t even sure if his lover would forgive him, when he needed love and comfort more than anything, when he wanted nothing more than be weak. he thought he wouldn’t care, thought these parts of him had long since healed or dead, but now… now it felt like someone who had been by his side through the warmest moments of his life, who had grown up with him, who had been a long-forgotten dream and long-abandoned hope and could only bring tranquility and happiness into his life, was suddenly back. like his first love had come back.—oh my god no.

Like ik it's a soulmate au, but I feel like a clown LOL, I know they're meant to be but I couldn't help but feel so shocked at that moment, like ofc we realized from readers perspective that it was just her but God. Something about this soulmate bond makes me so scared. But Jjun also thinking it's coincidence just :((( baby no

“can we take our time, please?” you asked quietly, looking up at yeonjun, as he moved your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear with a puzzled expression. “all that… soulmates thing. i'm still so confused…” you admitted, ashamed. not even because you were postponing talking about it, but because you felt so unbelievably dumb for not noticing it earlier—the way yeonjun just fit right in into you life, mind, heart and soul, as if there was a place shaped exactly for him and no one else, made it pretty obvious. — god I love them your honor.

A moment to appreciate the world building of this fic, it's so darn amazing oh my god.

“they align, jjun,” you whispered into his skin, and he instantly understood why your heart was beating so fast. there were myths about aligning marks, but none of the wild roses ever mentioned it, so he had brushed it off as another lie without a second thought, never even considering checking it with you. “so…” you swallowed thickly. “is it enough to… be sure we’re soulmates?”—this kind of intimacy is so insane.

I absolutely love the end, I love that despite a the chaos that came with their bond, they still found each other and will always be meant for each other. This was an insane 3 part series and a lovely way for me to end of the valentines series. This was absolutely amazing.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡ . ⠀wild roses | chapter 3 ; the thorns and flowers

⠀⠀⠀neighbour!yeonjun x fem!reader

← to chapter 2 | ♡ you're here ♡

genre ; soulmate au, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, humour, smut            wordcount ; 19.6k

warnings | tags ; unhealthy relationship with pain [mentions of self-inflicted pain and self-neglect]; yeonjun does some kinda questionable stuff [less questionable, but yeah, he continues]; self-hate and self-pity; fighting, injury and yeonjun overworks himself

smut warnings ; dom + soft sadist yeonjun x sub + soft masochist reader; no condoms [reader is on pills]; pain inflicting; yeonjun and reader are horny and use it as copying mechanism. ⠀⠀⠀mentions of wet dreams, free use kink, oral, somnophilia, cockwarming, dumbification; ⠀⠀⠀descriptions of spit play and cum play, hair pulling, choking, spanking / slapping; ⠀⠀⠀smut scenes with marking, fingering, cumming inside.

⠀⠀⠀[ event masterlist | my masterlist | wild roses masterlist ]

the next morning was a bit strange, but in a good way—yeonjun woke up early and tried to carefully leave the bed so as not to wake you up on a saturday, but you still stirred awake and sleepily followed him to the kitchen. he couldn’t stop throwing glances thinking how cute you were as you struggled to stay awake, your head leaning against the wall—you kept yawning, rubbing your eyes, looking like a little sleepy kitten that just needed to crawl back into bed and sleep as much as it wanted. he tried to send you off, but you refused to leave the kitchen, insisting you were perfectly awake—your sentence was interrupted by a yawn not once, but twice. 

when yeonjun returned from the bathroom to grab the hairdryer, he found you curled up on the couch right where you could see the bathroom door—well, if you weren't fast asleep. he almost let you rest, but considering how stubborn you’d been earlier… he woke you up, asking if you wanted to keep him company while he dried his hair. of course, you didn’t say no, trailing after him like the cutest little ghost before perching on the countertop. you were a bit more awake now, watching him drying his hair and giggling when he kept using the dryer to warm your cold hands and feet. he couldn’t stop smiling the whole time—he felt the happiest he had ever been.

by the time yeonjun was leaving, he couldn’t be less surprised—and more content—when you were there to hug him goodbye, cozily wrapped into his cardigan and cute fluffy socks he put on you himself to keep you warm. he pecked your nose and promised to text you every free second, as you hugged him tight mumbling that you wouldn’t stop bothering him if he didn’t keep the promise. 

but you started overthinking more and more the more awake you got—were you too clingy? too annoying and needy? at first, you wanted to bring yeonjun lunch and spend extra time with him, but you weren’t sure if he wanted to see you, so you decided to stay at his apartment, grabbing your laptop from your place to busy yourself with something. you still couldn’t stop thinking about it, though, trying to figure out how you were supposed to behave now, when you were dating—you didn’t want to ruin everything.

yeonjun noticed the way your texts were becoming more closed off, so he wasn't sure you still were at his place, and he was relieved to see you there. you even came out to greet him, making his heart melt at your slightly awkward hug as you shyly pecked his cheek. he still noticed something was wrong, though, and when you told him what was bothering you, deciding to be honest, he tried his best not to smile at how cute you were. he felt like his heart was going to burst, but he took your hands in his, kneeling before the couch you were sitting on and saying that you could do anything you wanted, anything that felt natural for you, and while he knew it could be risky, he still wanted to give you freedom.

that was how yeonjun found out you were clingy—you loved hugging him, being held by him or just touching or being touched in any way. you never was too much, though, always just perfect—you never got upset over him asking you to give him some space or wanting to spend time with his friends, welcoming him back into your arms just as warmly as if he’d never left. you always reached out for him despite shyness—if he didn’t reach out first, of course, and you always seemed to glow when he did, looking at him like he put stars in the sky, not simply took your hand. 

and yeonjun loved touching you—he was basically obsessed with it, as if he were a man who had never touched or been touched in his life. it felt like he needed to have his hand on you whenever he had the opportunity, and he couldn’t be happier when he found out you were just as clingy and enjoyed his touches as much as he enjoyed giving them to you. every time he felt you leaning into his hand or murmuring how nice it felt and how you wished his touch could stay on you forever, his heart grew a little fuller.

later, when you progressed to yet another stage, yeonjun also found out that your sex drive was… high. strangely enough, it matched his own well, and while he tried to keep things vanilla between you, the two of you still managed to test out almost every surface of his and your apartments, whenever and wherever he managed to get a hard-on or you clung to him just a bit differently than usual, looking at him that way with the softest ‘jjun…’ he had ever heard. 

yeonjun wasn’t sure he had ever found you not wet. of course, there always was at least a bit of foreplay before putting his hand down your bottoms—grinding against you for a bit, kissing every sensitive spot on your neck and shoulder, whispering a few praises with a huge emphasis on ‘my’—but it only affected how wet you were. he teased you once about it and you, completely embarrassed, admitted that he was just too hot while doing basically anything, let alone touching you or saying all this “hot stuff”. he wouldn’t believe your words if he wasn’t ‘witnessing’ it with his own fingers pretty much often.

so it wasn’t much of a surprise that while yeonjun tried to keep his kinks hidden from you, as most of them walked hand in hand with pain or other sides of himself that he wanted to hide, because he was almost sure you were that kind of a wild rose that wasn’t into it, a free use kink was introduced relatively early, and—oh—how bad you both loved it. he hadn’t really had an opportunity to try it fully despite being interested, sticking to one-night stands for years, and you heard of it before, thinking it was hot and, well, it suited the sex life of you two pretty well. at first, yeonjun wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay vanilla—free use kink sounding kinda rough—but it was just as giggly, happy and full of smiles, while the bed was reserved for something more serious and prolonged. 

it slowly flowed into a low-key somnophilia, when yet another night yeonjun woke up from your soft whimpers of his name into his neck, as you clenched the fabric of his t-shirt in your hand and tried to grind yourself against his thigh. these nights were the hardest for him, because his body immediately reacted to how needy you were for him, but he never woke you up—until one night it was just too much after almost a week of no proper sex because of your busy and draining schedules. 

yeonjun shook your shoulder gently, whispering your name along with a bunch of sweet nicknames, when he realized his already painful hard-on wouldn't go away on its own. you stirred awake eventually, heart almost thumping in your chest as you tried to catch your breath and shoosh the remnants of the dream away—they had become softer and more vanilla when you started having sex, but recently the dreams were getting more and more kinky, returning to the way they were before you started dating. 

you knew yeonjun understood what kind of dream it was, and you feared he'd laugh at you or, worse, be disgusted, so you sat up, crawling back from him and looking down on your hands in shame, ready to hear anything he wanted to say. but when he sat up too, facing you, you saw the tent in his boxers, a dark gray wet patch on top, visible even in the dim light. your mouth filled with saliva as you clenched around nothing—you wanted to taste him and feel him stretch you so perfectly and actually just anything he desired after that long week, the remnants of the dream making your already insane need for him almost maddening.

yeonjun nodded when you finally looked him in the eyes—he was too horny to joke about them being up there, and you were feeding his ego so badly by looking at his dick like you were ready to beg for it any moment. the thought made him twitch—gosh, he hoped he'd hear you truly begging one day. he moved closer, parting your knees with his, as he put his hands on your bare thighs, ready to manhandle you the second you agreed. “right now or til morning?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

you looked at him almost towering over you, resembling a predator ready to pounce—hell, how anyone could be that hot in the middle of the night with hair in a complete mess? just looking at him made you dripping wet. you thought you would do anything he told you right now, and if he didn't, you were ready to beg. you licked your lips before answering almost breathlessly. “right now.” 

neither of you were sure you actually finished the already short sentence before yeonjun's lips were on yours, and you were lying on your back, his elbow by the side of your head as he wrapped your leg around his waist—the rest of your limbs followed the action on their own accord. how badly he tried to keep his teeth to himself, licking your lower lip instead of biting it, as he grinded his dick against you, mentally cursing himself for not thinking about taking your underwear off earlier—he knew he wouldn't be able to stop and detach himself from you now. 

you moaned into yeonjun's lips—the angle he grinded at was just right, and your mind went absolutely crazy when you thought of these messy, full of saliva kisses he blessed you with unfairly rarely. his tongue slipped between your lips almost reflexively the second you gave him space to do it, and he groaned at the way you tightened your legs around his waist, your calves trying to press his hips closer to yours. 

if yeonjun thought it'd be difficult to stay vanilla before—considering he already failed it by the too dominant way he was treating you— he realized it was absolutely impossible, when you whimpered a few needy “jjun, please, inside”s into his lips and then neck, clinging to him like that. how could he not pull your hair, wrap his fingers around your neck, grip your wrists, dig his nails into your thighs, cover your neck in bites, spank you and do everything he did to you in his dreams when you sounded exactly like you did there? 

yeonjun needed to be inside you—fuck, he probably needed it more than you did, before your tiny, beautifully pathetic ‘please’, repeated again and again, managed to rob him of the last pieces of sanity and control he was holding onto so desperately. he clenched the bed sheets as hard as he could, stopping himself from grabbing your jaw to force your mouth away from his neck so he could shut you up with his lips. or how good you'd look with my hand on your face, he thought, tilting your head as gently as he could in his current state to press his lips against yours again, swallowing your last whimpers before you got distracted by his tongue once more. 

you doubted you would ever feel or taste heaven—definitely not after what was happening right now—but were you sure yeonjun tasted and felt better than any heaven anyone in the universe could imagine. he barely started, and you already didn't want it to end—the thought, the only thought your dazed mind could come up with except ‘more’, ‘jjun’, and ‘please’, making you tighten your hold around him, not wanting to let him go.

yeonjun cursed quietly—he loved having you close—any moment actually—and especially when you were having sex, but the way you refused to move your hips away, tightening your legs around him the second he wanted to move his boxers down to free his dick so he could finally fuck you, was driving him mad. he wanted to slap your thigh, telling you to behave, but he couldn't—he groaned into your shoulder in frustration, as he managed to finally place his hand the way it let him push your hips down. you whimpered at the loss of contact, sound soft but sinful in his ear, but kept your hips where he put them, earning a ‘good girl', that he groaned through clenched teeth as he finally freed himself and wrapped his fingers around his cock, pumping a few times.

you jerked when you felt yeonjun's fingers move a damp fabric to the side, uncovering your pussy—you almost mewled at the cool air hitting the wet skin, but he was quick to cup your center, pushing a finger inside immediately and adding a second one just a few seconds later, making you whimper. the embarrassing squelching sounds were loud in the night air, and his quiet chuckle next to your ear only worsened the embarrassment, arousing you even more and making you clench around his fingers—you enjoyed the effect he had on you too much.

every drag of yeonjun's fingers was delicious on your sensitive walls, each joint and bone and his fingertips dragged over all the needed spots, making you bite into your lip and try to move your hips too—his fingering skills were just as god-like as any skill he carried, and you would be glad to have his fingers inside of you much more often, especially if he was going to be like that from now—rough and impatient, which only made his touches and groans even rougher.

yeonjun wasn't even sure there was a point in stretching you out, given how wet you were for him already, but he was—he clenched his teeth—a fucking gentleman, never wanting to hurt you in any way—except so many ways that made his cock twitch at the thought of each one. he grinded his hips against the back of your thighs subconsciously, trying to ease the uncomfortable feeling at least a bit, as he gripped the bed sheets over your head in his fist, and it was like he reminded you what exactly you wanted to have inside. 

“jjun, please—” you choked out, holding him tighter and mewling into his neck. “need your dick s’much,” you whimpered, trying to find his cock with your hips. you loved his fingers, but, gosh, how much you loved his dick. he was almost cruel with how unfair he was about not letting you suck him off often enough. the thought made you almost sniffle. “please, jjun-ie—”

yeonjun’s eyes rolled back, as he clenched his teeth harder—his sweet, shy, vanilla girl was getting so shameless in her need for him to fuck her. gosh, he thought. he had already gotten you begging for his dick, but if he’d be able to make you go dumb for it—just the mere thought sent shivers down his spine—soulmates of you both could go fuck each other. maybe they’d be lucky enough to be as perfect for each other as the two of you were, but he didn’t give a fuck actually. he didn’t give a shit about anything, if he was honest, as he aligned himself and slowly pushed inside with a groan—he knew it was what heaven felt like.

you arched your back, digging nails into your palms, as you tried to pull yeonjun closer to you—the slight stretch was maddening, as it burned just a bit, giving you the smallest pain that you had desired for so long. he cursed into your neck, his forearm finding its place between your back and the bed for a better hold of you, pushing your t-shirt up a bit to feel your skin on his. he dug his nails into his palm too, despite almost dying to leave marks on your skin—you, already a bit less stretched out than usual, were clenching on him like a vice. you were a menace to his sanity—he knew you could do it on purpose. 

your brain fogged when yeonjun started moving—he wasn’t going exactly hard, but his thrusts were sharp, each one pushing more and more thoughts out of your head, leaving you a whimpering mess underneath him, pressed into his body. a sight to behold for him—he hoped to never forget how you felt, sounded and looked at the moment, your brain completely empty for anything except his name and ‘please’. you were shaped for him—he was completely sure—no one ever felt that good, not even close, never to the point where he just never wanted to pull out. 

it was the same for you—yeonjun always overwhelmed each one of your senses, and now he was the only thing that mattered or even existed, as if you were made for each other—he knew how to bring you to absolute madness and submission, and he didn’t even have to do anything, just existing was more than enough. each drag of his cock against your walls, was pulling you further and further away from sanity and thinking, his name being the only thing on your mind, bright as a neon sign amidst fog. his pants and groans against your neck were sending shivers down your spine, as well as the way he pressed you into himself so strongly, nearly hurting. you almost wished he did it just a bit harder, sinking his fingers and teeth into you.

yeonjun knew you were getting closer—your legs tightened yet still trembled around him, your whimpers became a bit more high-pitched, and every ‘please’ sounded more like a quiet sob, making his cock twitch at each one—was he having a thing for crying now?—and you were clenching around him so hard, he could barely move some moments. he wanted to sit up so he had a free hand to stroke your clit, but you tightened your arms around his shoulders, sobbing out a quiet ‘please, don’t’ so desperately, as if you thought he was going to leave at all. he cursed, his heart melting despite the heated moment. 

yeonjun still managed to find a way to push his hand between your bodies without moving away from you, and you threw your head back at a mere touch to your clit, clenching around him so insanely strong at the precise tight circles on it, that he gave up on thrusting at all—he didn’t care for cumming himself. his name sounded like a broken prayer on your lips, repeated again and again as you were squeezing him, your body trembling. he wanted to tattoo the image on the back of his eyelids—you looked like such a beautiful mess, the neck he wanted to bite into so badly out in the open, almost begging him to do it, but he clenched his teeth—no, he couldn't. 

you bit into your lip so hard, you were too close to draw blood, but you craved it in that moment, as if a tiny glimpse of pain was the only thing that was lacking amidst the waves of shudders going through your body as you came. it felt like you were floating, your body and mind completely consumed by yeonjun, and you couldn’t wish for anything better. he was leading you through your orgasm until your body relaxed—you could barely feel your limbs, let alone hold as tight as you were holding before, heart thumping in your chest as you tried to catch your breath and understand where you were, everything around feeling like it was behind a thick wall of water. 

yeonjun was still hard as rock inside of you—he knew he wouldn’t be able to cum, his head too busy holding back and trying to control himself, so he just held you letting you come down from your high, heavy breaths of you both mingling together as you both tried to calm your hearts down—you from the hardest orgasm you had ever had, and him from the hardest inability to cum he had ever experienced. 

but you noticed it—of course, you did, you loved it when yeonjun came inside, making you so full of his seed, that you were sure he could make you drip with it for days sometimes. it always made you feel so full, so his. so when he tried to move away, you put your last strength into your still jelly arms, trying to hold him with a quiet whimper. “jjun, need your cum, please,” you whimpered into his neck between tiny kisses, trying to tighten your legs around his waist too. “please, want to be full.”

you were a menace, yeonjun thought. a little devil sent to break his control and composure, disguised as the sweetest angel heavens could only dream of. he was almost convinced you knew how your whimpery begging affected him and used it against him, but you were too fucked out to think properly and try to manipulate—it was you. he knew you simply wanted the same thing he wanted—you always did, his softest angel pushed into that state of neediness and submission by his own hands. 

and yeonjun couldn't say no—fuck, he needed to cum more than anything, and filling you up in the process just like you both craved, was just a bonus. he started moving again, his thrusts sharper and much less controlled now as he tried to chase his own high, letting your sweet sounds consume him. he pulled you closer by you lower back again, harder that time, wanting to be as close as possible when he finally was on the verge of cumming. 

yeonjun was too far gone to notice the way he dug his fingertips into the skin of your waist, nails leaving tiny crescent moon marks and making your skin sparkle with tiny tingles, sending shivers all over your body. he did the last hard thrust, trying to get as deep as possible, stilling as he finally came, thick ropes of cum filling you one after another, as he moaned your name right into your ear. the sounds he made, the feel of his cum, mixed with the way his fingers gripped your waist in such a delicious way, brought you so close to the edge, you could barely form words in your head, but you never foresaw him sinking his teeth into your shoulder, trying to muffle his groans. the unexpected, but so desired feeling of his teeth on your skin pushing you over the edge again and making you almost black out for a second. 

when yeonjun’s mind cleared he was already peppering kisses all over your neck and jaw, whispering praises in between—it happened unconsciously, even before he could register that he bit you, so he didn't realize it; not at that moment at least. the tickling feeling of his gentle kisses and breathing made you giggle tiredly, as you opened your eyes and looked at him, enjoying the weight of his body on top of yours—you wanted to move the bangs away from his wet forehead, but you were still so weak, that your hand gave out when you just tried to lift it, and yeonjun caught it with a soft giggle, pressing his lips to your palm. 

“we should sleep, baby,” he whispered, preparing to roll off you—he already tortured your poor, tired body with his weight for longer than he had any right to. “we don’t have to get up early tomorrow.”

“mm, we don’t?” you asked quietly, not letting yeonjun move away from you, and he smiled into the skin of your neck and replied with a ‘mhm’ sending the softest vibrations into it. “stay inside?” you asked it so innocently, that he wasn’t sure he heard you right—did you mean ‘let’s stay home tomorrow’?.., but you continued. “then we can start the morning the best way. you can… wake me up that way if you want?” 

yeonjun felt his dick almost twitch at your idea and the way you said it. he wondered what he had done to his angel that night—he needed to know it so he could continue doing it to you to hear more needy filth leave your mouth in such a sweet innocent manner. he teased you about being so needy despite just cumming two times, but of course gave in, positioning you the way you’d be able to sleep without him leaving your body—cockwarming sounded nice for him too. he wondered how many kinks of his you had too—maybe he didn’t have to be so scared of opening some of them up to you?

the next morning—that, no doubts, started ‘the best way’ and brought you to the bathroom together to shower ‘the best way’ too—yeonjun noticed the mark his teeth left on your shoulder. he felt his heart sink as he whispered apologies into the bruised skin, but you said he didn’t have to apologize for anything. you were too embarrassed to say you loved it, so you just said it was ‘okay’. but he had hard times believing even ‘okay’, until he started noticing more and more often the way you caressed your shoulder, even through clothes, exactly where the mark was, with one of the softest smiles he had ever seen on you.

it was the first time yeonjun thought about something not being right in the way how right everything felt. at first, he tried to push these thoughts away, convincing himself that he was just overthinking and scared—he had been betrayed by someone ‘perfect’ already, so it was predictable. but no matter how much he tried, he knew it wasn’t about you. or him, for that matter—it was about everything. he knew you’d never pretend to be someone you weren’t, everything that was changing in you because of him, to suit him, was changing naturally, without you doing anything for it—it seemed like you already had all of it in yourself. 

clicking immediately and talking like you had known each other for a few lives already wasn’t weird, if you were alike. and being alike—or being opposite—wasn’t weird either, but it was about the amount and things that were the same or completely different. sometimes yeonjun thought you were basically twins—sleep schedules, views on the future and personal space, values, humour, expectations from relationship, approaches to conflicts, expressing love, everything that truly mattered in a long and committed relationship, were the same for you two. and sometimes you were different like fire and ice, but exactly where it was either required—like power dynamics—or didn’t matter much. 

and yeonjun thought that sex life wasn’t that—you weren’t completely the same when it came to kinks or completely opposite when it was about giving-receiving, you were just… different, and your similar sex drive was just a coincidence. but that night planted the seed of doubt into his mind—was it possible that you were holding back your true wants too, just like he was? the tiny glimpses into the way you, maybe, were, only showed him that he could be too wrong about it, and that—maybe—your sex life obeyed the ‘rules’ too. he was quick to brush it off, though, after careful thinking—if you were more submissive than he expected, it was natural for you to fall into his view on things. it started with the corruption kink after all.

what was harder to ignore was the way you fit perfectly with his flaws—the way your own ‘flaws’ aligned with his. yeonjun knew he was far from perfect. he had his… moments. moments of being possessive when he had no obvious right to be, requiring obedience in the smallest of things when he was in a truly bad mood (and just enjoying it in any mood), acting full of himself and wanting to be worshipped and admired. he always thought it was too much and had been hiding it from you for months, especially his possessive tendencies—it wasn’t hard as he wasn’t exactly jealous. he just liked knowing and seeing that you were his. it was harder when it was about his need to be obeyed and worshipped. 

but all were natural for you—yeonjun realized it much later than you started acting on it. you had no problems with wearing his t-shirts or cardigans to work, and nonchalantly telling your prying colleagues the truth about the obviously men's clothes on you that still smelled like men's perfume—“it’s of my man”. you proudly wore anything he gifted you, and when you found the custom-made velvet choker with embroidered tiny pink roses along a thorny stem on the outside, and his name in the same pink threads on the inside—he got it for you but was too embarrassed to give because of his name there—you were ecstatic, saying ‘for the better!’ and asking him to put it on you when he hesitantly pointed at his name inside. you wore the choker daily, taking it off only when he could replace his name on your neck with his lips.

you were obedient too—especially when he was in a bad mood; you once told him it wasn't because you were scared of him or anything, you just wanted to make things more comfortable for him and lighten his mood at least by it, and actually—you added much quieter—it felt natural, and he told you to do what felt natural when you only started. you never belittled him even teasingly, never trash talked him after occasional winning in video games—you preferred to do the opposite and be constantly in awe of something he had done, which he knew was sincere despite an annoying voice in his head that sometimes tried to convince him otherwise. you were just open about your feelings to him, never giving him any doubts about the way you felt. 

it wasn’t one-sided, of course—he was ready to drown you in signs of all five love languages just to show you how much he loved you—adding extra on the ones you preferred the most; you could get a bit possessive from time to time too, and yeonjun had no problems with it, wearing a tiny mouse charm and the first letter of your name on the bracelet he never took off—but to him it seemed almost insignificant compared to how many subtle or not-so-subtle signs of belonging to him you had all over yourself.

at some point the thoughts of covering the mark of the bond on your chest with marks of his love became too loud in yeonjun’s mind, so it spilled out almost against his own will in a form of asking you what you thought about marking. by the time it happened, your sex wasn’t vanilla anymore—it had a noticeable power dynamic, and he introduced more and more messy kinks into the sex life of you both—creampie, cumplay, spitplay, snowballing, sucking on fingers—each one, met with interest and excitement, making him think more often about how suspiciously compatible you were. he still was hiding the most of his kinks based on causing pain, though, but marking had a different origin for him—possession. 

you were taken aback by the question and specified if he meant the process or the result—you felt like you were fine with both, but wasn’t sure about wearing it in the open, so the result might not be what he expected. yeonjun didn’t care, though—the area he wanted to mark was always hidden by your clothes anyway, so he didn’t waste a second when you said yes to his question about marking your chest right there, on the couch of his living room. he tugged your t-shirt off and lied on top of you, his lips under your left collarbone, leaving the first mark right on the top of the stem, making it look like a rose crossing your chest. yeonjun still had a polaroid picture of that in his wallet under the pressed rose, turned away so no one could see it.

when you said you were ‘fine’ with both process and result, you had no idea you’d never be able to choose which one you loved more—the way yeonjun was gently biting, sucking, licking and kissing you skin so thoroughly, making shivers run down your spine as you were particularly dripping by the time he barely finished with the first one third of the stem, or the way each one of these marks basically claimed you to be his and even thinking of wearing so many signs of belonging was making your head spin. 

and then yeonjun bit you—harder than he was going to, he could swear it was an accident. but your eyes rolled into your head as you arched your back and moaned a soft broken ‘oh fuck’ right before biting into your hand the second he was going to start apologizing. his brain short-circuited—it didn't sound like a moan of pain at all. were you… 

yeonjun's heart started beating faster as he quickly moved his kisses up your chest to the sensitive spot on your neck, giving it a tiny lick before pressing his teeth to your skin. every inch of his body was tense, trying not to miss any slightest change in your reaction as he started slowly tightening the bite—he felt like even his breathing became quieter and rarer so he could hear if your breathing changed at least a bit. your soft whimpers were getting more desperate with each second, as you tightened the hold on his arm, and he did his best not to let it affect him.

just when yeonjun was at his limit, knowing he just couldn't bite harder, because it’d cross the line of his soft sadism and wouldn't be enjoyable for him anymore, you choked out a ‘not harder’, making his heart thump. here was your limit, he found it—exactly where his own one was. he still asked you if it was too painful already, but you shook your head and said it was on the verge of it, but the peak of pleasure was even earlier—he didn't tell you that, but he assumed where it was, and it wasn't only about how he heard you reacting to it. 

it was no surprise the discovery of your soft masochistic tendencies affected your sex life, and in addition to goofy quickies and passionate love making, the two of you started having rough, kinky sex anyone could only dream of. and at some moments, yeonjun was glad he only had one mouth and two hands—sometimes even one hand, as he preferred to be on top—and he couldn't do everything he wanted to do to you at the same time, because he wasn't sure at least one of you would leave the bed sane if it was possible. but no, it wasn't possible, and he had to choose. 

it was easy when it came to scratching, slapping, gripping, pinching and biting your skin anywhere yeonjun knew you’d enjoy it—he could find each one of your sweet spots with his eyes closed now, knowing your body like the back of his hand as if he was the one who placed each one on your body—these five were fast. well, most of the time, as sometimes you had full-on marking or spanking sessions, but they were rare compared to how often he did all of these almost automatically, without thinking about it. but it was much harder when it was coming to the rest. 

yeonjun loved pulling your hair—he loved the way it made you arch your back, no matter the position you were in, be it on your knees as he pounded your face into the sheets, your legs trembling at the way his fingers tangled into your hair to pull you up and press your back against his chest, hand moving to your neck to tighten his hold on it while he was whispering how well you were taking his cock, as if you were born just for that and nothing else; or in missionary when he thought you weren’t close enough to him and he couldn’t bring you closer with the other arm, as it was a bit too busy with leaving scratches on the back of your thigh, so he pulled your hair just to feel your chest against his. 

yeonjun absolutely loved pulling your hair to lift your face when you were on your knees before him or when he towered over you in any position—he loved the look you gave him, eyes full of admiration and worship, but the way your mouth was opening almost on its own was absolutely maddening. he didn’t even have to tell you to push your tongue out—it was like you knew he wanted you to, as he gathered his saliva in his mouth before letting it slowly drip from his tongue to yours. and if your mouth was full of his cum at that moment… he was getting hard again, no doubts. 

the hair pulling also matched well with spanking sessions—it made you stick your butt out so adorably, when you were laying across his lap, your chest and knees on the bed, skin of your butt red, as he caressed it, feeling your wetness coating the skin of his thigh already. but yeonjun found it the cutest when you were drooling while he was slapping the gentle sensitive skin of your ass and thighs, so he preferred stuffing your mouth with his fingers to make you drool even more as you tried to suck on them instinctively, your saliva flowing down his fingers waiting for him to lick it off later and make a show for you out of it. 

yeonjun enjoyed to push his fingers between your lips in missionary too, when he was able to see the way the rest of his fingers dug into your cheeks and, more importantly, to see the way you rolled your eyes in pure bliss, obediently wrapping your lips around his digits, your tongue caressing them in the most angelic way possible. he always had too little patience at these moments, wanting to have his tongue in your mouth instead of fingers, so he withdrew his fingers, earning a beautiful pathetic whine from you before shutting you up with his lips, as his fingers wrapped around your neck. 

his fingers found your neck in missionary more often than not, when yeonjun wasn’t making love to you, usually slick with your saliva or arousal, but some nights—the most restless ones—with a mix of the cum of the two of you—with what was left after you both licked and sucked it out of his fingers. but choking was the best when he fucked you from behind, hovering over you lying flat on your stomach and holding you by your neck so you had no opportunity to miss each one of his dirty whispers of what else he was going to do you that night, tomorrow night and every night further. everything before he couldn’t take it anymore and tilted your head by your jaw, finally pressing his lips against yours in a messy kiss, catching every sweet sound you were making.

at some point yeonjun realized he tried to press his lips to yours every opportunity. it was far from gentle whenever you chose to be kinky, but it barely was about ‘kinky’ at all, often becoming a bit softer and slower a few seconds in—if he wasn’t in a too hard mood, of course. it felt intimate, something he never gave anyone for years—a strict ‘no kisses’ rule for friends with benefits and one-night stands. his lips were only for you and no one else—the thought making him so sentimental once or twice, that your kinky session full of degrading praises, dumbification and sweet pain he caused you, turned into a love making. 

yeonjun was soft, actually. it wasn’t even about the fact that you still could feel his love in the kinkiest moments through the softest whispers of praises or questions of your well-being and unexpectedly gentle touches between the rough ones; not about the way he regularly made love to you, reminding you of how much you meant to him while he was driving you insane with slow drags of his cock against your sensitive walls, when nothing except him mattered. it was about the way he held you the moment both of you were done, endless praises leaving his lips as his hold on you was tight and firm, reminding you that you were safe in his arms. 

and you… you loved whatever yeonjun wanted to give you in any moment. it felt like he was reading your mind, and the moment you opened your mouth to ask him for something, he immediately did it. it happened so often that you started thinking that when you had to beg for something, it was because he wanted you to beg, not because he didn’t know you wanted something. but begging was hot and you were eager to please, so it wasn’t a big deal.

of course you both had your favourites in general when it came to, well, hurting you or craved something specific on some days—and it was completely unsurprising that they were the same for the both of you—but yeonjun had the softest spot in his heart for leaving love bites along the soulmate mark on your chest—it felt like covering it completely was making you his. the amount of attention he was paying to the mark you used to hate for what felt like your whole life, made you realize how much you'd changed. 

being with yeonjun seemed to make you forget about almost all of your worries—whenever your head wasn't busy with the task in hand, it was occupied by him, making you smile like a dummy at the mere thought of seeing him soon. it felt like endlessly falling in love with him after months of dating, and knowing that, at the same time, your love managed to be a grown-up, serious one—a love you shared with the person you chose to love and loved not only with your heart but also brain—only made it much better. you took the best part of blue and mixed it into your pink love.

you hadn't thought about your soulmate or the bond for a few months already, and when the realization suddenly hit you, you only smiled, shaking your head—you didn't care anymore. your happiness was right there, and you hoped your soulmate would find theirs too. just with someone else, not with you—you doubted even your own soulmate could make you happier and complete you better than yeonjun, no matter what they said about soulmates and their connection outside the flower-type bond. he already was all of that for you and more.

you felt safe with yeonjun, always protected, and you knew it was foolish—at least the first few months—but you just couldn’t get rid of these feelings, and even when you were cautious, they were still present. it was easy to talk to him, easy to open your heart and mind. you knew he’d never judge you or call you an idiot for your own mistakes. instead, he simply helped you deal with them if you needed it, because he knew you could draw conclusions yourself—without his nagging. it felt like you had known each other for a few lives before meeting in the current one, with how naturally everything started.

silence was comfortable with him too—sometimes yeonjun was tired from talking to so many people, which was required by his work, and he just didn’t want to talk, but still needed to recharge, so you could sit silently in the same room or shoulder to shoulder, doing your own stuff comfortably. he easily did the same for you, back-hugging you and watching you play on your phone or switch, when you needed to recharge—he was your personal charger, not letting you go until you felt fine. and it was natural for you both to know when the other one needed it, slipping into charger mode immediately. 

yeonjun… synchronized well with you and your emotions, just as you did with his—you both were empathic and knew each other really well. he knew when you faked your smile while meeting someone from your past or someone you simply disliked when you were out together, and you knew when he was trying to keep his anger inside over some minor inconvenience on a bad day, even when his face remained completely calm. and you both knew what the other one needed at those moments, whether it was a tiny kiss or a hand squeeze. 

his touches always felt so, so right, from the first day. yeonjun knew where and how you preferred to be touched, and what areas you’d rather stay untouched. he always—always—made sure it was okay before touching you in a new way for the first time, and he always made sure you knew you could ask him to stop or even make him stop with your own hands. you never did, though—his touches were comforting and grounding, making everything so much better.

you were in synch on the kitchen, never colliding or hitting each other with cupboard doors and drawers; in the bathroom when you both needed to get ready at the same time; in the crowded elevator when yeonjun cornered you to shield you from strangers—just in case—his giggles warm against your ear. it felt like you were always waltzing, no step wrong or out of place, and even if it happened, the other one adjusted naturally to match or catch.

it was like that with everything—you barely had any fights because there were almost no problems, and if something did happen, you were quick to deal with it by talking it out before it escalated into anything more. but of course, there couldn’t be no fights at all. it was too good to be true, and you should’ve expected for it to happen one day. 

the month was tiring for yeonjun—the k-pop agency he was working with had comebacks stacked one after another and wanted him to work on more of their groups, so he had to manage three at roughly the same time, which was three times more than he was used to. it wouldn’t have been too difficult if he was only handling choreographies for well-established artists who had a team of trainers working with them regularly, but audition season for another agency was starting in a month, and out of habit, he had opened a few training slots for it—already too tired to think before doing it.

yeonjun tried to find a way to keep it from affecting your relationship, especially now that it finally felt like you were fully opened up to each other, but it was almost impossible. he felt like shit for neglecting you—you were going home alone more and more often each week, as soobin was rushing to his not-just-friend-anymore the moment the workday was over, and yeonjun often couldn’t find even five minutes in his tight schedule. at least the sun was setting late already, so you didn’t have to go in the dark. you barely had any dates now, too—he was always too tired, and even the ones at home ended with him falling asleep most of the time. 

you were an angel, though, more patient than he ever deserved in his honest opinion. you were waking him up with the tiniest kisses all over his face whenever he fell asleep on the couch, just so he’d go to bed and not be even more sore in the morning; you were bringing him lunch, wasting your own lunchtime on it, when he had no time to go and buy himself something or forgot to order—you always said it was completely fine because you could eat while working; some days, you woke up at five a.m. just to kiss him goodbye, wish him a good day, and remind him that you loved him more than anything.

it wasn’t easy already, but that week was straightforward hell for yeonjun—it felt like everyone needed him at the same time, and each one thought their need was the most important one, the lack of sleep and food was taking a toll on him, and every time you were nothing but patient and loving to him, he was ready to pull his hair out in anger and frustration, because he couldn’t understand how in the world you didn’t hate him yet. it was bound to end in a fight, and he started avoiding you just to keep from snapping—and not like it was too difficult with his schedule.

you noticed it, of course—how could you not? you still tried your best to be understanding, but it was starting to feel forced. you couldn’t keep trying to comfort someone who kept subtly refusing it, especially when you needed comfort yourself. you were going to bed alone, waking up alone—it felt like you were living with a ghost, and at least the ghost was leaving signs of his presence in the form of dirty dishes in the dishwasher and sweaty training clothes in the washing machine. you weren’t even sure when was the last time you looked at yeonjun properly, let alone touched or kissed him. he still held you in his sleep, but it didn’t count. 

it didn’t help that your body started getting sore out of nowhere, your muscles nagging and tugging each morning. it wasn’t unusual to feel physically weakened due to emotional exhaustion—not to mention you weren’t sleeping or eating well either, worrying your heart out for yeonjun—but it was just annoying, as if your body couldn’t just cooperate for a bit until that period passed. it kept piling up, and on a particularly bad day when nothing seemed to go right, you ran out of patience—it was a friday night, and you needed your boyfriend. needed to at least know he was fine. 

it was already dark when a young boy left the practice room yeonjun was working in, seeing you outside and bowing. you knocked on the door and entered without waiting for the response. relief washed over you at finally seeing him—it felt like both physical and mental exhaustion were starting to leave your body, the walls you had built around your emotions  beginning to crack. you wanted nothing more than to run into his arms and finally relax in their safety. at least until you saw the way he didn’t even try to pretend he was happy to see you.

“what are you doing here?” yeonjun asked, his voice harsher than he expected—it wasn’t just exhaustion; he was starving, his head was pounding, and seeing you, the one person he could allow himself to be weak with—the one he had been mistreating so badly—only made things worse. he just had to push through this last class of the day, and he could go home, but now, with you standing in front of him, he wasn’t sure if he would break down or explode, and neither was welcome. 

you were taken aback—that was what he had to say after barely seeing you for a week? “wanted to check on my boyfriend,” you snapped—the soreness was creeping back, and you felt a dull pain starting to form in the back of your head. “have you seen him maybe?” 

yeonjun rubbed his temples—he was so not in the mood to fight, it was probably one of the worst moments of the month for it. “listen, if you want to fight—”

‘to fight’?! what the hell was he thinking of you? “no, yeonjun. i don’t want to fight. i want you to rest properly and stop overworking yourself,” you barely noticed how your voice was starting to rise. 

“it’s my job, can you understand?” he threw the small towel he had been wiping his sweat off with to the side in frustration—he had five minutes left until the next class, and now he had to waste them fighting with you, when you weren’t even supposed to be here.

“i’m your girlfriend, can you understand?!” you couldn't remember the last time you had been so frustrated. “can you, please, try not to forget there's your girlfriend waiting for you at home, worrying about you every night,” the words were full of venom, but you just couldn't stop.

oh, yeonjun never forgot—you waited, worried, cared, wanted to make everything easy for him instead of just doing the only thing he truly deserved after neglecting and mistreating you—leaving him. he was so frustrated that the next words left his lips before he could think twice. “maybe she should've waited at home then instead of coming here because she can't live without my attention?” 

your eyes tingled, as you felt your heart sink, a dull pain spilling over inside your chest. you knew yeonjun didn't mean it, but that didn't to stop the lump from forming in your throat. because it wasn't even about him—it was about you. you were that girl again, the one who realized her soulmate was having sex with someone else, invisible lines on her back burning almost as painfully as her eyes as she tried to not to cry in the middle of class. the pain was almost the same, and it felt like all those years of growing up, maturing, trying to accept the betrayal, and finally moving on had never happened. you were her once again—completely alone in the world, betrayed by the person who was supposed to be the closest to her heart. 

yeonjun felt it too—the tugging pain spreading from the middle of his chest to his throat, making him want to throw up in the desperate hope that it'd rid him of the feeling. he was there again, he was him again—it was the same time, soon to be night, but the other side of the world, and one moment he was the happiest person in the universe, and the next—he felt that pain. he remembered what came next—it was engraved in his brain no matter how much he tried to forget. realization. the most painful realization of his life. it was different that time, though—he wasn't the one who was in pain, he was the one who was the reason for it. 

but no, the realization followed this time too—yeonjun felt like he was punched in the chest. he was the reason his soulmate had felt that way all those years ago. they could feel the deep drag of her nails down his back, and it was the clearest sign he had betrayed their bond. just like he had betrayed your trust and feelings now, your bond. he wasn't that poor boy anymore—he was worse. the boy had been deceived, he hadn’t meant to hurt his soulmate, but yeonjun had no excuse for his words.

you took a deep breath—you couldn't be that girl now, you had to protect her despite your own pain—and looked at yeonjun. “maybe she should have. maybe even at her own home” you said quietly, turning around to leave the practice room, placing a hand over your heart involuntarily, hoping it'd ease the uncomfortable tugging feeling.

yeonjun could barely register the pain in his chest, lost in thought—was that what he was? back then and now to?. all these years had meant nothing because he had stayed the same—someone who didn't deserve to be happy. your words reached him, though—almost too late, but they still did. “don't leave alone, it's dark,” he said, his voice void of emotion. “i’ll tell the trainee i’ll be late and walk you home. wait for me on the ground floor.”

you didn't say anything, just nodded—despite knowing yeonjun didn't see it as he turned around to grab his jacket. you didn't wait for him here either—not wanting to endure the uncomfortable awkward elevator ride, and, after all, he had told you to wait on the ground floor, not here. but of course, it didn't help anyway, because you still had to walk home together, and it was the worst walk home you'd ever experienced—you didn't hold hands like you usually did, didn't talk, didn't even say goodbye properly when he brought you to your floor and didn't even step out of the elevator, simply pressing the ground floor button.

when yeonjun returned home, he found you sleeping on the couch and it was obvious that you hadn’t just dozed off while waiting for him—you were wrapped in your blanket, the fox plushie held tight against your chest—you had brought your belongings here, because you didn't want to share a bed with him tonight. the choking pain in his chest rose, but… he finally got what he deserved after this month and especially this week. there was still a small spark of hope he wanted to ignore, though—you had chosen to sleep on his couch, leaving him the bed that was far more comfortable, instead of sleeping in an even more comfortable bed at your place that was just two steps away.

but yeonjun wouldn’t be himself if he let it stay that way—he just hoped you wouldn’t hate him for it—and scooped you up, careful to not let the plushie fall, as he carried you to his bed, laying you down gently and checking that you had everything you needed. he threw one last glance at you before grabbing his own things, including one of his t-shirt that you used to sleep in, now carrying a mix of both your scents, and left the bedroom—it was his obligation to sleep on the couch, never yours. 

it was a bad night for both of you—it was cold, uncomfortable, and lonely for you two who hadn’t slept alone since you started dating. you wanted to apologize early in the morning—for coming to his work and making him stay there longer because he had wasted time walking you home and had to start an already late class later, for starting that fight in general, and for being petty by making a scene of sleeping on the couch, and, of course, you wanted thank him for carrying you to the bed. but by the time you woke up at five a.m., he was already gone, and you thought that maybe it was too late to apologize now.

yeonjun wanted to wake you up with breakfast in bed, a huge bouquet, and an even bigger apology, along with a serious conversation about that month—the way it went for both of you, how he could make it better, and how to avoid repeating it in the future. but four hours of bad sleep, full of draining dreams on the verge of nightmares, left him even more exhausted than before he had gone to bed. being jolted awake by a call from the agency, saying he was needed there in half an hour, only made things worse. that tiny spark of hope he still had before falling asleep was extinguished under a cold, bone-deep exhaustion, and he came to the conclusion that you deserved much better than him.

the gap between you two seemed insurmountable—neither of you had even noticed it growing over the past month, and now you didn’t know how to make it smaller, or if that even was possible. these thoughts, along with the persistent ache in your chest, made you careless—you kept stumbling over completely flat surfaces, managed to knock a pack of ramyeon down on the floor, and at least had been quick enough to jump back before the hot water could spill on you. little, frustrating things kept happening—your bag strap getting caught on the door handle, your sleeve snagging on a cabinet—and it was such a terrible time for all of it...

yeonjun, however, barely had time to think about anything. the first half of his day was pure chaos—there were always at least two dozen people around him, loud and hectic, pulling him from one place to another, his brain constantly on overdrive. but when it was finally time for personal classes, which were much quieter and calmer, the thoughts of how badly he had ruined everything returned. the last time he had been in a state like this, he had overworked his mind and body until he could neither stand nor think, but this time, he already barely had any strength for either. still, he opted for stretching—it was necessary anyway and the tugging pain in his ligaments might at least distract him from the one in his chest.

yeonjun was almost done with the stretching when he suddenly felt something prick his finger. he hissed, instinctively looking down at his hand and the floor beneath it—but everything seemed fine. the floor was completely clean, and there was nothing visible on his skin either. he brushed it off—maybe there had been some crumb or something, and he pushed it away when lifting his hand. but throughout the entire class, he kept  feeling the same thing here and there on his hands, even when the only thing around them was air. the pain in his chest was soon replaced by a much nauseating feeling in his gut—deep down, he knew what it was, even though he had long forgotten how it felt, but he didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want it to be true. it was just a coincidence, his body was playing tricks on him, he was imagining things—anything except that one. 

but it was impossible to deny, when yeonjun felt as if his whole hand had been pushed into a thorny bush while he was simply making himself coffee—his replacement for lunch between classes. he felt nauseous, staring at his hand, his head spinning—it was like a few lifetimes had passed since he had last experienced this, and now all the memories came crashing down on him like a wave. scraped hands and knees, pulled hair, paper cuts, bee stings, cold burns, sewing prickles, sprained ankles, growing pains, headaches, ear piercings, blisters and sore feet, tongue burns and bites, minor cuts, period cramps—he had never seen them, but it felt as if he’d been by their side for their whole lives, experiencing every significant stage of their growth along with them.

the bond was back. his soulmate was back too. right when it was the worst possible moment—when he wasn’t even sure if his lover would forgive him, when he needed love and comfort more than anything, when he wanted nothing more than be weak. he thought he wouldn’t care, thought these parts of him had long since healed or dead, but now… now it felt like someone who had been by his side through the warmest moments of his life, who had grown up with him, who had been a long-forgotten dream and long-abandoned hope and could only bring tranquility and happiness into his life, was suddenly back. like his first love had come back.

the thoughts made yeonjun want to throw up, as he slowly lowered himself onto the floor, back against the mirror. he had betrayed you yesterday, he was betraying you now with these feelings and thoughts, and more than anything, he was terrified that he would betray you in the future. he ran his fingers through his hair and hid his face in his palms—he didn’t know what to do. he knew what he wanted—to break the bond completely, to never meet his soulmate, to live a happy life with someone he had chosen and would choose again and again in every lifetime—you. but the first part was impossible, and he knew he had to get a grip on himself and hold onto it for the rest of his life. but he was ready to do it—for you.

yeonjun took a deep, shaky breath—the class was starting soon, and it was time for him to pull himself together. there were people waiting for him, expecting their choreographer to guide them, not to crumble under the weight of something they had nothing to do with. and he couldn’t let them down—he had been letting down too many things recently, and if he let you down too… the only thing he’d have left was his job. so he pushed himself up from the floor, took another deep breath, and tried to drown himself in his work. 

it was almost impossible to notice that something was wrong when yeonjun was in his element, giving himself completely to the music and movement. but each little break, when the music wasn't filling his mind, made him feel worse, as if overthinking and the tiny invisible cuts in his hands were gathering strength whenever his head was busy—only to hit him harder the moment his mind emptied. for the first time, he counted down the hours until the day was over with dread—he was scared to come home and not see you there. you, and any traces of you, because you had finally realized you deserved better.

but yeonjun had no choice—if you chose to leave, he had to accept it, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how painful it would be to see you every day as nothing more than a neighbour. he simply wanted you to be happy, with him or without him. and his soulmate… he hoped the bond would shut down again—which wouldn't take long if you decided to leave. he knew his heartbreak would be too strong for him to cope with it in a healthy way, and the bond would try to protect them from him. 

the first thing yeonjun saw when he opened the front door was the light from the kitchen. he swallowed thickly—it still wasn’t too dark, so maybe you had just forgotten to turn it off when leaving…? but the next second, he heard a quiet sniffle coming from inside, followed by a dull thud—something falling or, more likely, being thrown—and his heart felt the lightest in a whole day, you were here. then, a second realization hit him—you were crying. and you had thrown something. you needed to be held. he quickly took off his shoes, tossed his bag and jacket somewhere, and rushed to you.

you were sitting on the bar stool, your lower lip caught between your teeth as you tried to wipe away angry tears that just refused to stop. you didn’t even notice yeonjun until you felt his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his hold. the moment he did, the tension in you melted away, the safety of his embrace making it easier to be weak. with a quiet hiss, you wrapped your arms around his waist, and your angry tears shifted—becoming ones of exhaustion and relief at the same time. you needed him more than anything.

yeonjun couldn’t believe how close he had been to throwing everything away because of some stupid soulmate bond, close to ruining it all with his own hands, choosing to overwork himself and make you worry, leaving you completely alone and calling you an attention seeker when you confronted him about it. and yet, you still took him back, still clung to him like you needed his comfort even though he was the reason you needed it in the first place. his fingers combed gently through the hair on the back of your head as he held you, letting you cry into his shoulder. his darling, his poor baby, his sweet angel, his little mouse. the only person he'd ever need.

your sobs started getting quieter, and yeonjun relaxed a bit, growing curious about what you had thrown when he came home. he glanced around, but his gaze fell on the first aid kit and bunch of plasters scattered around the table—both barely used and still unopened. were you hurt?.. he leaned back slightly and cupped your face, looking for any signs of pain, but there were none—except for your puffy red eyes and still slightly quivering lips. “baby, what happened? are you hurt?”

you sniffled and looked down, slowly withdrawing your arms from around his waist before showing him your palms. “not exactly… that bouquet making class was…” you sniffled again, biting your lip as he cupped your hands from below. “i was careless and i… maybe i should've asked for tulips, but… but these roses were so cute and tiny and pink, and i…” the more you spoke, the more sorry you felt for yourself—and the more stupid you felt for everything that had happened. “and i got them by raffle… and i thought, maybe it was destiny—”

yeonjun couldn't hear anything—his heart thumping in his ears, drowning out your words. it felt like the whole world had stopped and disappeared completely, leaving nothing but him, you sitting on that bar stool, and your hands cupped in his. and slowly, the world was closing in even more, until only one thing remained—the reason why so many plasters were discarded barely used. it wasn't easy to put them on your own hands, especially with so many tiny cuts scattered across your skin. the same cuts he had known about hours ago already, but had never realized whose hands they belonged to.

every little thing made sense now. every tiny detail had fallen into its place, completing the picture that had barely made sense before. of course, it had been easy to talk to you from the very beginning. of course, it had been easy to open up to you—so much easier than when he forced himself to open up to others. trusting you came naturally. your smile made every burden lighter, and your touch made his problems feel small and insignificant. of course, everything with you felt right—he had sometimes questioned whether the way he was living was right, filling his mind with ‘what if’s and ‘maybe’s, but he never, not even for a second, doubted that his place was next to you. holding you. being held back.

that's why you were so perfect in every sense—you were made to be perfect for him, there wasn't anyone else in the world who would fit him better than you, no one else could bring him more peace and happiness, because no one else could. and—yeonjun’s heart skipped a beat—he was the same for you. all his worries about not being good enough, about not being worthy of you, suddenly made no sense—he was perfect for you, because he was made to be perfect for you, too. and he was making you feel the same—safe, certain, content. now he could be sure that you were truly happy.

“—and then… i just laid my hand on—” you looked at yeonjun and your heart sank. “jjun… jjun-ie, why are you crying?” you tugged one of your hands away from his hold, cupping his cheek, as you felt your eyes start tingling again. “i’m not in pain, it's just annoying a bit,” you sniffled, unable to hold your own tears at the sight of his wet lashes. “and if it's about the fight, i’m so sorry, i overreacted and—”

yeonjun carefully wrapped his fingers around your wrist, not wanting to hurt you by touching the cuts and scratches on the back of your hand, and brought it to his mouth, kissing each little cut as gently as he could. “i just love you so much,” he cupped your face with his other hand, brushing your tears away and caressing your quivering lips. “so, so much. you can’t imagine,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “and i’m so sorry for being such an asshole.”

you opened your mouth to say that it wasn’t his fault, that he was just overworked and tired, and that you should’ve been comforting him instead of coming to his work and making a scene. but just as if he knew you were going to say absolute nonsense, he pressed his lips to yours in the gentlest attempt to shut you up. he couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, chuckling softly when you chased him as he pulled away. 

“it’s my fault,” yeonjun whispered, pecking your lips again, unable to stop himself from doing it when you were sitting there so cutely, wanting to comfort him more than anything, even though you needed that comfort yourself. “i’ve been doing everything wrong for the whole month, and—” 

you pouted and shook your head. “no, not everything,” you frowned, and yeonjun tilted his head, so you continued. “you held me every night. that wasn’t wrong,” you mumbled, your hand clenching the fabric of his t-shirt at his side.

he pressed his lips together, trying to hide the wide smile—your attempts at comforting him were the cutest, but you had no idea that you’d already done everything that he truly needed—became a part of his life. yeonjun pecked your nose and took a small step back. “come on, baby, let me wash and disinfect my hands and i’ll treat these little cuts that are my fault,” he kisses the corner of your lips too and rushed to wash his hands before you could argue that they weren’t. 

yeonjun was the softest while treating the cuts—he kissed each one before putting ointment on it, carefully covering it with a plaster, and kissing over it again, making you giggle. you got many forehead, nose, and lip kisses too, as “it seemed like there was something too”, he explained, before pecking one more time to “check properly”. you never realized how much you’d missed him over this past month and how happy you actually were when he was happy. 

you didn’t do anything the rest of the day—yeonjun was spoiling you like a princess, and you had to almost tear cutlery away from his hands because he was unironically going to feed you himself. he still felt bad for everything, if he had to admit, feeling like he needed to make up for his behaviour. but he was glad he didn’t bring you flowers as an apology—he doubted you would be in the mood to see more flowers that day; and the bouquet you made yourself and brought home was the prettiest anyway. so he decided to apologize with food, cuddles, one of your favourite movies and an hour-long session of eating you out. or maybe with letting you suck him off—he hadn’t decided yet. 

yeonjun didn’t tell you the truth that evening—you both were tired, emotional and a bit shaky, the two of you needed rest and comfort—especially you—instead of another shake. he didn’t tell you the next few weeks either, because he was still busy with work, leaving early and half-asleep, coming home late and tired, only wanting to eat something and cuddle you. and when the tiring period finally ended… you went on a vacation together, renting a small house in a closed area on the seashore—these hellish months had brought him enough money—and your mouths were mostly busy with other things. 

you, as the one who was getting the most exhausted—but satisfied, and yeonjun always made sure you were it—after these ‘other things’, were falling asleep early, snuggled against his side, your soft breathing warm on his bare chest, as he played with your hair or caressed the love marks and reddened skin, appreciating the trust you were giving him. but whatever he was doing, was always happening almost automatically, as his mind was occupied with the thoughts of how truly fucked up he was now for not telling you earlier, because he had absolutely no idea how to let you know that you didn’t have to be anxious of any of you meeting your soulmate anymore. 

yeonjun tried to convince himself that the right moment just hadn’t come yet, and if there was a ‘right moment’ it wasn’t perfect. so yeonjun waited. and waited. and waited some more, until it was too late already, and the only thing that was left was to admit that it wasn’t about a right or perfect moment. he was afraid. of your reaction—you might start overthinking, questioning the reality of your feelings; of the way it'd affect what you had—it already was absolutely perfect, and trying to make it ‘better’... might only ruin everything. 

but more than anything yeonjun feared repeating the past. when you were sleeping so peacefully on his chest, making him feel like the happiest person in the universe, he couldn't help but recall the night when it felt like his whole world had burned to ashes, because at these moments everything around the two of you seemed and felt the same. what if he was mistaken? what if it was just a coincidence? what if the sting he felt wasn't because of the bond at all? the further that day went into the past, the more he doubted it—the more ‘what it's started appearing in his head. 

and if yeonjun was wrong, he'd live through it easily—loving you the same as he had loved before that day, and the same as he loved you now, which had always been easy. but if he told you and it turned out to be a mistake… he felt his heart sink as he pulled you a bit closer—he’d be like her. lying about one of the most sacred things and breaking your heart exactly the same way his one had been broken years ago, and it was the wound only you managed to heal. but he knew you’d forgive him, telling him he was just confused and assuring him you’d be too. he just wasn’t sure he would be able to forgive himself. 

so yeonjun stayed silent, despite knowing he was only making it worse in the end. he simply hoped it’d somehow solve itself on its own. it did. and he thought that maybe he should’ve told you everything straight away instead of waiting until fate would force the truth out of him in the worst way possible. 

the vacation was almost over, so you refused to leave the nice water unless you really had to—yeonjun had to basically drag you out when, in his opinion, it was time for you to stop being a little mermaid and walk in the human world for a bit. he still kept you company in the water too, enjoying swimming just as much, but he tried to look out for you—mostly because he cared, but partly because he wanted to spoil you by doing everything for you so you didn't have to leave the water.

yeonjun wanted to bring you cherries that time—they were tasty, the tastiest you both tried that season, and, oh, so juicy, you could never stop yourselves from trying to help each other clean what was left on your lips. it never failed to lead to something more, so he was eager to bring another bowl of cherries to put on the dock for both of you to enjoy them and, perhaps, each other. eager and careless.

you both had no idea how it happened. one second yeonjun was peppering kisses all over your face, his fingers caressing the skin of your ass under you swimwear, as he murmured he’d be back soon as that you should wait patiently and be a good girl; and the next second, maybe the dock was too slick from the way you’d played around splashing each other near it, maybe he was too distracted by thoughts of what you two could do on the last day of vacation, but as he pushed himself up on the dock, his left hand slipped, and his right wrist bent at an awkward angle, trying to hold his weight. 

the pain wasn’t unbearable—yeonjun experienced worse when he barely cared about his health and well-being while trying to drown himself in dancing years ago—ankles, wrists, fingers. so he cursed with a groan, falling back into the water and wrapping fingers around the sprained wrist. and then, his brain registered something he had ignored because of the unexpected pain just seconds ago—your yelp that slowly turned into a sob behind his back. he turned around in a rush, his instinct to protect you flaring up until he saw you holding your right wrist the way he was holding his. cold shivers ran down his spine—he was right. and the pain wasn’t too bad because you took half of it. 

you were scared more than in pain—much more—and just a glance at you was enough for yeonjun to know that. he swam closer to you, careful with his wrist as he wrapped his arms around you in an attempt to calm you down, even though you were simply frozen—he knew that you’d go through it (and through anything, actually) easier in his arms. he didn’t say anything, unlike his usual whispers of praises and support, didn’t caress your back or play with your hair. he simply held you, letting you get your head around what had just happened.

your brain was on overdrive to find a logical explanation for what had happened, refusing to acknowledge that there was only one. “i… i’m just empathic,” you said quietly, your voice shaky. “i… i saw you and… and felt the same, and…”

yeonjun tightened his hold, as if trying to shield you better. “you are, baby,” he whispered into your hair. “but it’s not the reason.” 

it felt like your mind, heart and soul were a mess—you had no idea what you were supposed to feel or think, and what you actually felt and thought. you couldn’t grasp even one thought—they kept on flashing in your mind, blending into an unrecognizable mess, as if you were on some broken carousel—let alone decipher what you felt. you couldn’t even put the very basics into words to ask for yeonjun’s help. gosh, you weren’t sure that you understood the situation right. all of that just made the fuse go off, and you slipped into apathy. 

yeonjun felt your hold on his waist relax, and leaned back a bit, studying your face. “baby, are you okay?” he whispered, his left hand cupping your cheek and lifting your head so you looked him in the eyes. “does it hurt too bad?” he asked, despite knowing that you felt the same as he did, the bond giving you half of what he was supposed to feel.

“huh?” you blinked a few times trying to focus on his eyes, his face worried. “i…” you looked down at your slightly throbbing wrist, before looking back up. “not… not next to you…” you pressed your lips together before continuing. “we should call a taxi to take you to the hospital,” you said quietly, almost without any emotion. 

yeonjun hated himself for putting you in that state. he should’ve told you earlier, you were supposed to find out from him, and in other circumstances—the ones where he would’ve had the opportunity to comfort you properly. “it’s okay, mouse,” he murmured into your skin, lips pressed to your forehead. “it’s not the first time it’s happened. we have ice, so i’ll make an ice pack, and i brought an elastic bandage,” he looked at your slightly puzzled expression, and continued with a chuckle. “just in case.”

you replied with a small nod of acknowledgement and a quiet ‘okay’, your head still blank. it probably was a dream. yeonjun probably fucked you so well before you fell asleep, that your mind just decided no one except the one destined for you could do it, so it makes him one. yeah, it was probably that. when you woke up, you’d tell him what happened in your dream, and you’d laugh together at how ridiculous it was. because—pfft—it was absolutely ridiculous. wouldn’t you have noticed earlier? of course, you would! so it meant you were just asleep, and that throbbing pain in your wrist was… just an uncomfortable position?...

you still acted according to the dream, helping yeonjun get out of water and make an ice pack with ice and a towel, pressing it to his slightly swollen wrist and sitting next to him. you felt a bit better now, as your mind was convinced you were just sleeping, but the dream didn’t want to end, neither when you helped yeonjun put the bandage on, tying it a bit too tight and making you both flinch uncomfortably, nor when you decided to make pizza so he didn’t have to bother with trying to eat with his left hand and almost burned yourself on the cheese. 

you pressed your lips together, gathering courage, as your head rested on yeonjun’s chest after the dinner. “it’s not a dream, is it?” you asked quietly, your question a mere whisper. 

his heart skipped a beat—so that’s why you were so calm. you thought it wasn’t real. “no, baby,” he whispered, swallowing thickly. “it’s not,” he managed to get the words out, knowing what you were going to say next. he just hoped you wouldn't be mad.

you nodded hesitantly, lickling your dry lips. “you didn’t seem surprised,” you mumbled, still not completely sure if you were talking about the same thing, but too scared to say it out loud. what if he meant something else? or worse—exactly that. but… was it ‘worse’ though?.. 

yeonjun took a deep breath—here it came. it’d either make you two basically inseparable or burn everything to ashes because he betrayed your trust. “after the fight, when you went to that bouquet-making class… i felt it,” he confessed, and it felt like even his heart stopped beating because he was afraid to miss your answer. but you replied with a quiet ‘oh’—nothing else—and yeonjun realized he’d prefer you be mad than so quiet. “you don’t have to…” he took a shaky breath, “to stay because of the bond. if you want to leave—”

you clenched your teeth—your brain went into overdrive again, trying to place all the puzzles together, and yeonjun wasn’t making it better. why would he tell you that? did he want you to leave? no, he couldn’t. not your yeonjun. you sniffled, nuzzling into him. “no, i don’t. just shut up, please,” you squeezed your eyes, as the tangled ball of your emotions started unraveling itself in the form of tears. “i don't want to think about not being with you,” you sniffled again as those thoughts started filling your head anyway. “not now. and not ever. but if you want me to leave—”

yeonjun felt like he was punched into gut at the thought of him ever wanting you to leave. he tightened his arm around you, and content shivers ran down his back when you snuggled closer, showing him you wanted to stay with him despite all of his mistakes. “i don't. never,” he whispered into your hair. “i’d handcuff you to myself and throw away the keys if i could,” he murmured, but immediately froze, realizing what he had just said. was it too much?..

but you only chuckled into his neck through tears. “why would we need two pairs of handcuffs?” you asked, your giggles warm against his neck. “but if you want, we could be using the ones you choose, not me.”

yeonjun shifted a bit, hinting at wanting to change position, and you sat on his lap before helping him sit up too. he immediately wrapped arms around you, his face in your neck, peppering kisses everywhere he could reach. “you’re a menace, my love,” he murmured, the uninjured hand getting under your t-shirt, caressing the skin of your lower back. “the sweetest, the most angelic menace the world have ever seen,” he lowered his hand to squeeze your ass before slapping it lightly to hint at you to move closer.

you moaned, obeying and immediately feeling how hard he was, your eyes rolling back. “jjun,” you moaned out, as his kisses turned into gentle nibbles. “y-your hand…”

yeonjun’s chuckle was breathy against your neck as he slipped fingers under the leg opening of your panties, digging his nails into the soft skin of your butt. “your hips are moving like they don’t care,” he whispered into your ear, making you shudder, as you realized you’d been grinding on him all that time. “it’s okay, baby, i’ll guide you,” he moved his hand between your legs, hissing at the accidental touch to his dick, and moved your panties to the side, immediately feeling how wet you were. “gosh, you make me lose my mind every time i feel how fast you get wet,” he said, voice hoarse, before sinking his teeth into the sensitive spot on your neck, making you arch your back.

“i-it’s you, jjun—” you choked out a moan, feeling his fingers part your folds to teasingly caress your clit, as he whispered a soft ‘yeah?’ before quickly returning to your neck to leave more bites. you knew he enjoyed hearing you talk while he tortured you—he loved seeing how little it always took you to lose the ability to form coherent sentences when you were with him, and you wanted nothing more than to talk. “just you,” you choked out as he pushed his finger inside, moving it in and out gently—too gently. it only took you one thought, and he withdrew his finger, making you whine. “you drive me—oh g-gosh!—crazy,” you whimpered, the wet sound of him slapping your pussy loud and embarrassing. 

yeonjun chuckled at the way you tried to hide in his shoulder. “you’re absolutely drenched, baby,” he whispered mockingly into the skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “so wet and ready for me. always so eager,” he murmured, pushing two of his fingers inside again and scissoring them, your whimpery moans music to his ears. “tell me, angel, do you always get this way when i’m around? always thinking of my cock, aren’t you?” 

you could only whimper in response, your body squirming on his lap, as his fingers curled inside you. he rarely used left hand for fingering you, so now his every move was a bit less controlled, making your head spin, as you arched your back pressing your chest into his. he wasn’t satisfied with you, though, stopping his movements, and you whimpered trying to fuck yourself on his fingers. you knew he wanted you to answer, but his fingers had always felt so good inside, and now especially—it was nearly impossible to stop. 

shit, yeonjun thought. he really needed the second hand for the moments when you were a brat—to grab your neck, slap your thigh or just simply stop your hips without having to withdraw his fingers. he knew you were perfectly aware of what he wanted, but decided to misbehave. “answer,” he said firmly, smirking at the way you clenched around his fingers at his tone—his baby loved being ordered around.

you whined quietly, stilling your hips and trying to gather your thoughts, as yeonjun’s thumb caressed your folds so close to your clit just to make it a bit harder for you. “i d-do… always so needy, always thinking of you,” you mewled, tightening your arms around his shoulders, his warmth sipping into you in the nicest way possible. “you’re always on my mind…” you added quieter, biting into your lip trying to keep the sniffle inside.

yeonjun immediately felt the way your mood changed—even before you finished the sentence—and he slowly withdrew his fingers, quickly wiping them on his thigh—he hated wasting something so sweet and mind-blowingly delicious, but that was the furthest possible moment from the right one. “it’s okay, mouse,” he hushed you, wrapping both of his arms around your middle. “i’m always thinking of you too. of how happy you make me, of how happy i want to make you,” he whispered, slowly lying back down and tugging you with him. 

“i’m sorry,” you sniffled, hiding your face in his neck. why couldn't you be just a bit less of a crybaby—at least for once? at least not when your man was painfully hard. “i ruined the mood,” you mumbled, your fingers clenching the fabric of his tank top on his chest. “and keep ruining it.”

“you did everything right, darling,” yeonjun murmured softly, his hand combing through your hair. “i know i would get carried away eventually and try to grab you with my right hand,” he tilted your head a bit, pushing your chin up to press lips to your forehead. “and i'd hate to hurt you like that,” he murmured, then pushed your chin up a bit more, and you, catching the hint, pressed lips to his softly, making him smile into the kiss. “see?” he whispered, not moving away an inch. “you're so smart. you always know what i want.”

“can we take our time, please?” you asked quietly, looking up at yeonjun, as he moved your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear with a puzzled expression. “all that… soulmates thing. i'm still so confused…” you admitted, ashamed. not even because you were postponing talking about it, but because you felt so unbelievably dumb for not noticing it earlier—the way yeonjun just fit right in into you life, mind, heart and soul, as if there was a place shaped exactly for him and no one else, made it pretty obvious. 

yeonjun's heart melted—it always did when you admited something people might consider embarrassing. he cherished your trust more than anything. “of course, darling. just start whenever, wherever and however you're ready,” he paused for a second before his lips stretched out in a foxy smile. “even if you'll wake me up at 6 a.m. on sunday,” he added quieter, as if sharing a big secret. “because i love you.”

you snuggled into his side, nuzzling face into his chest. “i love you too,” you whispered. “more than my heart can take,” your mumble was almost unheard, but yeonjun tightened his hold on your waist for a second, showing appreciation. “i don't know what i feel about all of that, but…” you bit your lip nervously, and he froze, worried about what you were going to say. “i know i want to be with you. no matter what.”

“thank you,” yeonjun whispered, his heart beating faster. maybe, it was obvious by the way you were nearly lying on top of him, constantly trying to snuggle closer. maybe it was obvious by the way you didn't leave when you found out he had known for a month and hadn't told you. but he needed that clarification as much as air and almost as much as he needed you. “and don't think about not noticing earlier, okay?” he said, as if reading your mind. “it wasn't that obvious as it feels it was,” he caressed the soft skin on your lower back, sending shivers all over your body, as you replied with a quiet ‘okay’. “good girl.”

a few weeks had passed when you were finally ready to talk about it, as the thoughts, feelings and emotions had finally settled down in your chest and you could try to organize them in some way. you didn't know why you had reacted that way—going into denial and pretending it didn't exist for weeks. it wasn't a big deal at all, as it barely changed anything. if anything, it only saved you from all the midnight anxieties and midday worries about one of you meeting their soulmate—you both already had. long ago and in the best way possible.

of course, you didn't wake yeonjun up at 6 a.m. on sunday to talk about it—on sleepless sundays at 6 a.m. you were usually busy with something else—you simply started the conversation while cuddling on the couch and watching a movie. warmth spilled inside your chest as you realized how ‘serious conversation’ had changed throughout the year—starting at the table while eating dinner, drifting into cozily sitting on the couch facing each other, and eventually ending up just cuddling, where there was no need to see each other's faces anymore—you felt everything.

when you apologized, yeonjun playfully slapped your thigh, saying that even if you decided to never talk about it, it wouldn't change anything between you or about the bond, and he'd never mention it either, simply trying to lessen all the possible injuries because he never wanted to hurt you. you murmured that it would be the same for you, but you just didn't want him to think you had kept quiet because you’d had a change of heart—you hadn’t and you never would.

“why did you feel it then?” you asked quietly, gently tracing random patterns on his chest with your nail. “the cuts from the roses, i mean,” you added even quieter, unsure if he even had an answer. you knew he had spent years researching the bond, but it wasn’t easy to find the wild roses soulmates who had met each other—or, it turned out, recognized each other—and wanted to talk about it, so maybe he didn’t exactly know the way it worked. “it’s fine if you don’t know.”

yeonjun shook his head. “i’ve been thinking about it for the whole month,” he admitted. “and i feel like my solution is so easy, that it can’t be true, because none of the wild roses i talked to ever mentioned it to me,” he paused but shook his head. “but maybe they barely fight… it was our first fight, and it happened… three? four months in?”

you leaned up on his chest a bit, his words picking your interest immediately. yeonjun kept surprising you when it came to researching the bond—he never seemed like someone who would hunch over books and a laptop, making notes on every little important thing he found about the wild roses soulmates, or spend sleepless nights reflecting on everything he knew and brainstorming. you still had a hard time imagining university student yeonjun, who had done all of that while majoring in arts and being a really good student.

“so, the second rule in fleur de destin was about distance, right?” yeonjun looked at your nod, and lost the trail of thought—you were looking at him like that again. like he was the smartest person you had ever met. like he was about to turn your whole world upside down, and you couldn’t wait for it, like it was the most expensive gift. he knew he’d never be able to live without it now that he had tasted it. he cleared his throat, trying to pull himself together. “it doesn’t say ‘soulmates’ or ‘wild roses’, it says ‘souls’. the reflection of pain increases with the distance between souls to make them want to lessen it.”

it felt like the thought had appeared in your head on its own, and it was earth-shattering. “it’s not about bodies, it’s about souls,” you mumbled, your eyes widening, mouth slightly open. it made perfect sense—it was so simple yet so genius at the same time. he was a genius. 

yeonjun couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and pecking your lips quickly, pulling you out of your monumental discovery and your admiration for him. you gave him a soft slap to the chest for making you flustered, but it only made him want to fluster you more, yet he still tried to keep himself in check. “it’s also about souls,” he corrected. “i think, while we had no emotional connection, it was about the distance between our bodies, which was… not so far?” he said uncertainly. “considering we were neighbours.”

you nodded a few times, the thought continuing to unravel in your head. “but when we got one, the distance between our souls started to matter too,” you picked up his thought—it felt like you were slowly untangling a ball of threads, and yeonjun watched you, ready to help any moment, as he had long since unraveled his own. “and we…” you paused, pressing your lips together, memories of the stupid, completely unnecessary fight resurfacing. 

“and we had a fight,” he finished for you, cupping your cheek. “and there’s nothing wrong or bad about it,” he pecked your lips. “you helped me see that i was unfair to both of us and what we have,” he watched the way you pressed your lips together harder, trying to believe him. “there’s nothing wrong with fighting if we talk it out and learn to be better, okay?”

you pouted. “okay… why are you so… blue?” you tried to tease him, but it didn’t quite sound like it—more like a childish attempt at offence. 

but yeonjun only chuckled, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours—he knew it was a compliment and a sign of gratitude. he knew you like the back of his hand. “because my baby needs me to be blue right now,” he whispered. “and i’ll be anything she needs,” he pressed his lips to yours, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other tugged at your leg,, guiding you to straddle his lap. he deepened the kiss, brushing his tongue against your lower lip, but even before you could part your lips, he leaned back slightly with a quiet curse. “sorry. you’re so distracting…” he whispered, breath warm against your lips.

you tried to clear the fog that almost immediately filled your brain—the effect yeonjun had on you was outstanding. “you’re no better,” you murmured, still struggling to tear your gaze away from his lips, stretched so beautifully in that knowing half-smirk, half-smile. you loved it when he looked like a cat who had just stolen the biggest fish. “i…” you shook your head, trying to refocus. “uh, i wanted to ask why you didn’t say earlier,” you admitted, finally looking him in the eyes. 

“oh…” yeonjun licked his lips nervously. “at first, i had no idea how to tell you,” he confessed, running his fingers through his hair. “and it was getting worse with every passing day because then i had to explain why i hadn't said earlier. and then…” he paused, memories filling his mind—fear of rejection, of getting his heart broken, and worst of all—of being a liar. “i was scared. scared of ruining everything and of your reaction. and…” he let out a shaky breath. you pecked the corner of his lips trying to give him a bit of strength, and he smiled tiredly. “and it felt more and more like misinterpretation.”

“i know,” you whispered. “i feel the same now… it doesn’t feel real, even though the way i felt you spraining your wrist was more than real,” you said, laying your head back on his chest.

yeonjun sighed—the guilt was almost as strong as it had been on the first day. he just couldn’t believe he hurt you because of his own carelessness. “i’m still so sorry for that…” he murmured, wrapping his fingers gently around your right wrist and caressing it with his thumb, before bringing it to his lips.

you shook your head. “i’m happy i could take half of your pain away. remember the third rule? ‘taking half of the pain of your lover is a blessing, desired by many’,” you reminded him, despite perfectly knowing he knew these rules by heart in both languages. “it was much easier when i was next to you,” you admitted. “it was… the one i couldn’t understand along with the fourth rule. fifth? ‘when they’re truly close, pain subsides and pleasure grows instead’?” you asked, and yeonjun nodded, chuckling at your rough translation, but you continued. “and you looked hella hot in the wrist bandage,” you teased, earning a chuckle. 

“you’re always so horny, darling,” he laughed, squeezing your thigh.

you rolled your eyes teasingly, making sure he saw it. “i wouldn’t be, if you weren’t always so irresistibly hot, choi yeonjun,” you shot back, sticking your tongue out, and he laughed, shaking his head. but there was still one thing that you couldn’t get out of your head—you’ve been dating for so long, yet you’d never properly seen his soulmate mark, too scared to wander into something so intimate, especially if it connected him to someone else. but now… “can i…” you cleared your throat. “can i look at your mark now?”

yeonjun froze—he had never realized he hadn’t ever shown it to you properly, except for teasing you every time you looked away when he was changing, “baby…” he cupped your chin. “you could’ve asked it half a year ago, and i’d have undressed faster than ever,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood, before sitting up. he lifted his arms to tug the tank top off before pausing for a second to peck your lips. “have i told you you’re breathtaking in the last five minutes? i feel like i’m failing in my duty of being a man worthy of you.”

you felt your cheeks heat up as you pinched yeonjun’s arm, crawling away from his lap to give him space to take his tank top off and turn around. you weren't surprised when he made a show of tugging it of, making sure you saw his muscles at the best angle, but you were more than thankful, your eyes glued to his arms as you nearly felt your mouth fill with saliva. he smiled smugly—the way you openly and sincerely fed his ego on a regular basis… no one could fight his insecurities the way you did. he made a mental note to make sure you were thoroughly aware of how thankful he was that evening.

surprisingly, yeonjun felt… completely okay with showing you the mark. he expected to feel exposed and uncomfortable, but instead, he was calmer than he had ever been when it came to the mark, simply letting you explore it. you, on the other hand, were far from calm, your heart pounding like crazy. the second you saw the mark, you were sure you forgot how to breathe for a moment. you traced it slowly with the tip of your finger, your hand trembling. it was so, so close… if only you had been a bit more brave and asked earlier…

you let out a shaky breath, sure your voice would tremble as bad as your hand. “jjun, can you… stand up, please?” you asked quietly, and yeonjun threw a puzzled look at you over his shoulder but stood up nevertheless as you followed him, tugging your t-shirt away. 

he didn’t even have time to ask you anything before you wrapped your arms around his middle and pressed yourself to his back, his hands subconsciously covering yours on his stomach. he loved it when you hugged him like that—usually sleepily nuzzling into his shoulder, not wanting to be far from him as he cooked breakfast early in the morning—but now, your heart was racing, and he felt it perfectly against his back. he almost turned around to ask you what was wrong, but you broke the silence earlier.

“they align, jjun,” you whispered into his skin, and he instantly understood why your heart was beating so fast. there were myths about aligning marks, but none of the wild roses ever mentioned it, so he had brushed it off as another lie without a second thought, never even considering checking it with you. “so…” you swallowed thickly. “is it enough to… be sure we’re soulmates?” 

your voice sounded so small, almost scared, that yeonjun immediately turned around in your hold, wrapping his arms around you, both of your hearts now beating in sync—the hearts of soulmates, confirmed at last. “you should rest, mouse,” he murmured into your hair. “let’s go to bed, and continue later,” he said, feeling your nod as he grabbed your t-shirt from the couch, helping you put it on and leading you to the bedroom. 

yeonjun knew you were overwhelmed—even though the news wasn't exactly new, and it was definitely good news,it was still too good, too much to process all at once. he had gone through it already—it felt like shedding the heaviest weight you had carried on your chest your whole life, but the problem was, you had learned to live with it, learned to breathe with it, and now, when it was finally gone, each breath made uncontrollably came too freely, too strongly, giving you more oxygen than you needed, making your head spin; and it was taking too much strength to control each one. but he was more than happy to help you find a new way to breathe.

when yeonjun laid down and you clung to him without wasting a second, he chuckled, pulling you closer. he reached for the nightlight on the bedside table, realizing he had forgotten to turn it off a few hours ago. his hand found the book instead, and he paused before wrapping his fingers around it, taking it with him.. “darling, can i tell you something?” he asked, not wanting to overwhelm you more without your permission. “it's about the book, though.”

you murmured a quiet ‘yes’ into his neck, trying your best to stay awake and listen to him. you didn't really want to think about anything even remotely connected to soulmates right now, but you also knew that yeonjun had always known your limits like the back of his hand. whatever he had to say wouldn’t disturb you or make you feel like too much—you were sure of that. still, you nuzzled closer, just in case you were a bit less stable than either of you expected. and he was warm, softer after the vacation, and you simply wouldn’t leave his side if you could help it.

“so i bought that copy of fleur de destine from a library,” yeonjun started and, before you could point out that libraries usually don't sell books, added. “let's just say i paid a really bad late fee for being overdue on my whole life,” he explained, your soft sleepy laugh being the most beautiful song to his ears. “and when i was looking through it for the first time, i found a folded paper tucked between pages…”

yeonjun saw it as if it had happened just yesterday. he had just started researching about his bond after returning home and only wanted that book for the page about wild roses, since it was believed that despite the bond having only five rules there, each one was completely true. the book was so beautiful, though, that he ended up looking through it fully—he only translated the wild rose passage, but the rest was aesthetically pleasing. and then, between the pages about the daisies bond, he found a little note. the translation was terrible—it hadn’t taken much for him to put two and two together and realize it was written by a child—but it was undoubtedly about his bond. 

the note became just as important as the book, if not more—whenever he thought he couldn’t continue researching because his head pounded with how much information there was and how actually little of it had at least some value, whenever he got angry at yet another so-called fact turning out to be a myth, whenever he just wanted to give up, he looked at the note. at the simple words written by a child’s hand, trying to translate an old-fashioned french—both in language and meaning—into something they could understand. he was almost certain half of it barely made sense to them, but they hadn’t given up. and he, a grown-up with anything he could possibly need basically at the tip of his fingers, couldn’t give up either. 

yeonjun barely remembered the way things had been translated there—the correct translation had long since replaced the child’s work—and the note was tucked back between the pages where he had found it. he never forgot it, though, sometimes pulling himself up from the lowest moments of his life solely by the thought of some child who had been dedicated enough to finish a task that probably seemed impossible. 

your eyes were closed, but you still listened to the story attentively, cherishing each one of the stories from yeonjun’s past and not wanting to miss a single one. your peaceful listening was disturbed, though, when he started sitting up, shifting your legs across his lap and tugging you closer so your shoulder rested under his arm. you immediately wrapped your arms around his waist, laying your head on his shoulder and getting ready to listen further. 

yeonjun opened the book on your lap, taking out the folded paper but setting it aside as he flipped to the endpaper, where a small envelope was glued, holding the names of everyone who had borrowed the book. “usually, these lists stick out, right?” he asked, and you murmured a quiet ‘yes’, having a hard time keeping your eyes open and focusing on a bunch of yellow-ish papers in the dim room. “and i thought for a really long time that they took it out before giving me the book,” he said, grabbing the tweezers from the bedside table and carefully pushing them into the envelope to fish out the tiny paper. the action fully woke you up. “but a few days ago, i found out it was just too small and had been pushed inside.”

you knew the action too well—when you put your name on the paper in the copy you borrowed, you had accidentally pushed it too deep inside. the librarian had to hunt for tweezers to pull it out, grumbling the entire time, and maybe a few more times whenever you visited the library after that. but it couldn’t be your copy, could it?.. you took the paper carefully from yeonjun’s hand, looking at your own name written last in your handwriting.

“so…” yeonjun started, picking up the folded paper and holding it out to you. you took the note, carefully opening it, eyes quickly running over the lines. “i think it’s rightfully yours?” he watched as your fingers traced the old writing on the torn-out page from a school notebook.

when you had written it, you were full of hope—hope to meet your soulmate, to ask them about each bruise and scratch you had felt, to tell them about each of yours, because somehow, you had been completely sure they’d be interested to know the way your mom didn’t even scold you anymore for scraping your knees on the asphalt, especially after they had healed and reopened for the third time, and you had thought your clumsiness was funny. you had planned to ask them who their favourite power ranger and pokémon were, and probably tease them for being so basic about choosing red and pikachu. 

you smiled at the memories—how silly and childish it all was. and now, here you were, snuggled against your soulmate, reading a translation that felt like the worst work of your life, while his lips pressed gently to your temple, murmuring words of love and gratitude into your skin.

“you were helping me stay afloat in the worst moments of my life for so long…” yeonjun murmured, his hand caressing your thigh, kisses moving lower by the side of your face until he pressed his lips right under your jaw. “keep me afloat til the end of our days? i promise to do the same and much more for you,” he whispered, peppering kisses over the column of your neck, as his hand moved between your legs. 

“do wild roses die at the same time?” you asked, the question more of a thought out loud, but yeonjun froze before letting out a chuckle into your neck, making you giggle at the tickling feeling.

“baby, you’re being horny when we’re talking about my sprained wrist that hurt you, and think about death when i’m ungodly close to flipping you over and making you go dumb for my cock long before i touch you even with my fingers.” 

you pouted, parting your thighs and making more room for his hand—he immediately got the hint, tracing the outline of your pussy through thin, already wet fabric and making you gasp softly. “i—i can be horny too! can you imagine how many times you can make me go dumb for your cock? and in how many ways?” 

yeonjun groaned a rough ‘menace’ into your neck and pushed you down, making you lie across the bed, as he towered over you, quickly tugging your panties off and throwing them somewhere—tonight he was going to stuff your mouth with his fingers, not some stupid fabric. “i’m starting tonight,” he promised, pushing your t-shirt up to your neck to fully open the mark on your chest, groaning at the sight of a few layers of his marks, new and bright over the old fading ones, before continuing, “and i’m making a list, baby.” 

you whimpered at the way he had bitten into the skin on your ribs, arching your back, as he moved his bites lower. “can i—ah!—choose favourites?” you squeaked, as he slapped the thigh he put on his shoulder, before biting into the soft flesh inside of it and working on a mark.

yeonjun murmured something in thoughts, before shrugging and pressing his lips to your pelvis. “you can, but i know you’ll choose the ones that make you go dumb the fastest,” he chuckled, digging nails into your thigh and waist, as he watched the way you arched your back so beautifully. he was going to absolutely ruin you now. “which are my favourites. but it’s obvious. we’re soulmates after all.”

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[messervixen]

At his core Remus is just that one teacher who “has a wife and kids”

[kelpermoosee]

Guy who thinks his love language is gift giving, but in reality he feels obligated to give people lots of stuff in order to make them stay