lilswooddd

[lilswooddd]

nestled

recommended song to listen to while reading

——> rises the moon - liana flores

⤷ summary: When Woo-young comes home shivering and feverish, you wrap him in a blanket, make him soup, and refuse to let his stubborn pride stop you from caring for him.

⤷ contains: Fluff, comfort, caretaking, cuddling, feeding soup, medicine, forehead/temple/cheek kisses, teasing, vulnerability, softness

⤷ pairing: sick!wooyoung x reader

⤷ word count: 1.3k

The rain had been falling relentlessly all afternoon, drumming a steady rhythm against the windows and the roof, making the entire house feel colder than usual. You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket, your legs tucked underneath you, a book open on your lap, and a steaming mug of tea cradled between your hands. The faint smell of rain mingled with the warm scent of your home, creating a cozy cocoon that made the outside world feel distant.

Then you heard it: the creak of the front door, followed by the unmistakable rush of cold air that swept into the hallway. Your heart skipped a beat. You didn’t need to see him to know who it was—you could smell him, the dampness from the rain, the faint tang of the street outside. Kang Woo-young.

He appeared in the doorway, and your breath caught. His usual composed, confident expression was gone. Instead, he looked small, hunched over, shivering slightly. Damp hair clung to his forehead, and a pale flush tinted his cheeks. His shoulders trembled as he rubbed them instinctively, trying to ward off the cold.

“Woo-young?” you called softly, setting your book down.

He froze mid-step, eyes widening as he met yours. “Y-you’re… home?” His voice was low, rough, and just a little hoarse from the cold.

Your heart immediately ached at the sight of him so vulnerable. “You look frozen,” you said, moving quickly to meet him halfway. “Come here. Seriously.”

He hesitated for a moment, stubbornness flashing in his posture, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction. Every tremor of his body betrayed him.

“No, you’re not fine,” you said firmly, a teasing lilt in your voice despite your worry. “You’re shaking like a snowman, and I will not let you sit there like that. Soup. Blanket. Now.”

He blinked, confusion and embarrassment crossing his face. “Soup…?”

“Yes. Hot. Delicious. Chicken. Your favorite. Come on, slowpoke.”

Despite his usual pride and insistence on acting tough, he followed you quietly into the kitchen, shivering slightly as he went. His movements were stiff, tense, and for the first time, you saw how much he let his guard down when he was around you.

You set about preparing the soup, chopping vegetables and stirring the pot, the steam curling up in soft, fragrant spirals. He hovered nearby awkwardly, arms crossed, occasionally shivering despite his attempts to stand tall. He muttered under his breath, “I said I’m fine,” but the tremor in his voice gave him away.

“You’re not fine,” you said, glancing at him over your shoulder. “You act tough for everyone else, but when it’s just us… you’re helpless. Admit it.”

He averted his gaze, muttering something inaudible, cheeks heating slightly. “I… I’m fine,” he said again, but you weren’t convinced.

Once the soup was ready, you ladled it into a bowl, the aroma filling the kitchen. “Careful,” you said, handing him the bowl. “It’s hot. And then you’re sitting on the couch wrapped in a blanket. No arguments. I’m serious.”

He took the bowl, cradling it in both hands, his fingers brushing yours briefly. A small jolt of warmth—not from the soup—ran through you at the contact. “I… I can handle it,” he said softly, but his hunched posture and shivering hands betrayed him.

“Uh-huh, sure,” you murmured, draping a thick blanket over his shoulders. He flinched slightly, but didn’t move away, letting the warmth seep into him.

“Here,” you said, retrieving a small bottle of medicine. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, and now look at you. Take this.”

“I… don’t need it,” he said stubbornly.

“Yes, you do,” you said softly but firmly, tilting his head gently and helping him take the medicine. He swallowed with a faint groan, muttering under his breath, but made no real fuss. You brushed a damp strand of hair from his forehead, pressing a light kiss there. “Good. Now eat your soup before it gets cold.”

He began sipping the soup, muttering small, gruff comments, occasionally meeting your gaze. You noticed the faint vulnerability in his eyes, a softness he rarely let anyone see. Your chest tightened with affection.

“Here,” you whispered, moving closer to the couch. “Let’s get you fully warm.”

Before he could protest, you scooted closer, tucking your legs under the blanket and pressing your body gently against his. He stiffened, stubborn pride flaring briefly, but the warmth of your body was irresistible. Slowly, he leaned into you, head resting on your shoulder, shivers easing as your arms wrapped around him.

You pressed gentle, soothing kisses along his temple and the top of his damp hair. “It’s okay… you’re safe… just relax,” you murmured, fingers brushing lightly over his arms.

He mumbled something, half-protest, half-gratitude. You laughed softly, brushing another damp strand of hair from his forehead. “You’re ridiculous when you’re sick,” you teased, voice soft and warm.

“I’m… fine,” he said again, though the softness in his voice betrayed him, and he leaned closer into your warmth.

You spoon-fed him bites of soup, giving him the medicine in small sips, peppering him with soft kisses whenever he allowed it. His usual sarcasm slipped out now and then, quiet teasing as he murmured, “You’re spoiling me,” but his eyes betrayed the truth: he loved every bit of your attention.

“I am spoiling you,” you admitted with a soft smile, pressing a light kiss to his temple. “But that’s my job.”

He sighed, relaxing further, letting go of his usual pride. “You… really do everything for me, huh?”

“Of course,” you said, brushing your fingers through his damp hair. “Someone has to make sure you don’t freeze like this.”

He let out a small laugh, quiet and warm, the sound rare and special. “I… appreciate it,” he admitted softly, glancing up at you shyly.

For the next hour, the two of you stayed like that. You sat wrapped in the blanket with him, feeding him soup, giving medicine, and brushing little kisses over his damp hair and flushed cheeks. Occasionally, he’d whisper teasing remarks, like, “You’re way too cheerful for this,” but the warmth in his eyes betrayed him.

Finally, he leaned fully against you, head resting on your shoulder, and let out a soft sigh. “I… feel better,” he murmured, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

You smiled softly, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Good. That’s my job. And don’t forget it,” you whispered, pressing another soft kiss to his hairline.

He pressed closer, a faint blush still on his cheeks. “Yeah… I guess,” he admitted quietly, voice low, letting himself fully relax for the first time that evening.

Hours passed with quiet, comfortable intimacy. You spoon-fed him, gave him sips of water, and occasionally peppered his cheeks and forehead with kisses, murmuring soothing words. When he finally drifted, tired and content, you wrapped the blanket snugly around both of you, pressing him close against your chest.

“I love you,” you whispered, brushing his hair from his forehead one last time. “don’t let yourself get sick like this again.”

And for the first time that evening, Kang Woo-young didn’t try to act tough. He didn’t resist or mutter sarcastic comments. He just rested in your arms, warm, cared for, and completely soft—his vulnerability and trust filling your heart in a way nothing else could.

You let your fingers trail through his damp hair, pressing your forehead to his and murmuring, “I’ll always take care of you, Woo-young.”

He murmured something sleepy in response, a soft, reluctant smile on his lips before finally sinking into a peaceful sleep in your arms, completely at ease. And there, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket and your presence, the two of you shared a quiet intimacy that neither words nor time could ever diminish.

masterlist

[lilswooddd]

How would the Weak Hero boys react if someone from the reader’s past suddenly shows up — like an old abuser who pretends to be their “friend”? The reader would start pulling away or even running off whenever this person was around, because that person made their life miserable back at their old school. Then one day, the boys find out the truth — maybe through a video or by overhearing a conversation from someone else.✨💜

whc boys reaction to your past abuser

recommended song to listen to while reading

——> i didn’t change my number - billie eilish

⤷ summary: request above ^^

⤷ pairing: whc boys x reader

⤷ contains: past abuser/ex interactions, bullying, manipulation, intimidation, physical confrontations including punches, kicks, grabbing, protective comfort from the boys including holding and kisses, emotional distress and trauma recall

⤷ word count: 2.4k

⤷ tw: bullying and harassment, emotional and physical abuse, anxiety, panic, and fear responses, references to past trauma

⋆ ˚｡𖦹 Yeon Si-eun

The library was almost empty, the faint scent of old books mixing with the soft hum of the air conditioning. You froze the moment you spotted him—your past abuser—pretending to browse casually, smirk plastered across his face. The memories hit like a punch: whispered insults, shoved lockers, the cruel laughter echoing down the hallways of your old school. You instinctively stepped back, clutching your notebook, fingers trembling.

Si-eun had been sitting a few aisles away, quietly pretending to read, but his dark eyes caught your reaction immediately. He noticed the stiffening of your shoulders, the slight shiver, the way your eyes kept darting toward the ex. He didn’t rush over or ask questions—he didn’t need to. He watched, calculating, observing the threat and measuring your space.

When the ex reached toward your backpack under the guise of “helping,” Si-eun moved silently, positioning himself between you and the abuser. “Don’t,” he murmured, voice flat but deadly. The ex’s arrogance faltered for a second before they swung a punch. Si-eun’s elbow connected precisely with their ribs, sending them staggering into the bookshelf. Not a word more—his calm, dark stare said everything.

You exhaled shakily as he turned to you, draping an arm protectively around your shoulders. His touch was light, almost gentle, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. A soft kiss landed on your temple, grounding you. “It’s okay. You’re safe now,” he whispered. You leaned into him, your chest unclenching as the weight of the past began to lift, soothed by his quiet strength.

Even as the ex scurried away, humiliated, Si-eun stayed close, his hand lightly pressing against your back, keeping you anchored. No words were necessary—his presence alone said he’d never let anyone hurt you again.

⋆ ˚｡𖦹 Ahn Su-ho

The rain slicked streets reflected neon lights, puddles trembling under the soft patter of water. Your ex leaned casually against the wall of a convenience store, smirk fixed, pretending to be friendly. The sight of them tightened your chest, memories of stolen lunches, cruel jokes, and whispered insults coming back with vivid clarity.

Su-ho noticed immediately. His sharp gaze tracked the subtle flinch in your shoulders, the slight step backward, the way your fingers clenched the strap of your bag. Quietly, he approached, his presence calm but intimidating. He didn’t confront immediately; he observed, waiting for the right moment.

When the ex reached for your bag under the guise of a “friendly gesture,” Su-ho’s hand shot out, gripping their arm and pressing them firmly against the wall. “Back off,” he said, voice low, calm, yet carrying an unspoken threat. The ex laughed nervously, trying to act casual, but Su-ho’s piercing eyes left no room for bluffing.

As the ex tried to push past, Su-ho twisted their wrist sharply and delivered a calculated knee to their midsection. The ex doubled over in pain, breath caught, shock replacing their arrogance. Only then did Su-ho turn to you, draping an arm over your waist, pulling you close. His lips pressed to your temple in a soft, protective kiss. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, letting your tense muscles relax against him.

The rain fell harder, droplets tracing the curve of your cheek, but in Su-ho’s embrace, you felt shielded. Every step the ex had taken to intimidate you before was erased by his silent, calculated protectiveness. He didn’t need to speak; the strength in his arm around you, the way he pressed your body close, said everything you needed to know. You allowed yourself to lean into him, letting go of the fear that had tightened your chest since seeing the smirk you knew too well.

⋆ ˚｡𖦹 Oh Beom-seok

The playground was nearly deserted, swings swaying in the wind and leaves rustling across the asphalt. You froze the moment you saw him—your ex, leaning casually against the slide, smirk still cruel. Memories of whispered insults, shoves, and laughter that had followed you everywhere at your old school washed over you, making your chest tighten. You instinctively stepped back, fists curling at your sides.

Beom-seok had been sitting on the bench, eyes scanning the area, his body relaxed but alert. He noticed the way your shoulders tensed, the subtle hesitation in your step, and the slight tremor of your hands. A flash of anger crossed his face—nobody was going to touch you, not again.

When the ex noticed you and smirked, pretending to be friendly, Beom-seok didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, fists tightening. “Not her,” he muttered under his breath. The ex laughed nervously, trying to feign charm, but Beom-seok’s dark glare was enough to make them falter. Without warning, he swung a fist, connecting squarely with the ex’s jaw. The sudden impact sent them staggering, clutching their face, eyes wide in shock.

Ignoring the sting in his knuckles, Beom-seok moved to you, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Nobody touches you again,” he murmured, voice low but firm. He leaned close, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, letting you lean into him as your chest slowly unclenched.

The ex scrambled to stand, trying to act tough, but Beom-seok’s presence was a wall. He stayed close, a hand lightly on your back, guiding you away from the memory-laden space. Even after they left, his protective hold remained, grounding you in the safety of his arms.

⋆ ˚｡𖦹 Park Hu-min

The narrow alley smelled faintly of damp bricks and rain. Your ex blocked your path, grin smug, their eyes glinting with the same arrogance that had haunted your old school years. You froze, heart hammering, muscles tense, memories of manipulation and humiliation pressing down on you.

Baku emerged from the shadows, calm but imposing. His dark eyes studied the ex, noting the overconfidence, the misplaced arrogance, the way your body stiffened in fear. “You’re done,” he said quietly, almost coldly. The ex chuckled nervously, trying to act casual, but Baku’s hand shot out, gripping their collar. He lifted them slightly, enough to make them stumble backward. “Try anything,” he whispered, voice low, precise, “and it won’t be words that hurt.”

The ex paled, trying to laugh it off, but Baku’s stare was unyielding. He released them just enough to step closer to you, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders. His other hand brushed your hair back gently, pressing a soft, grounding kiss to your temple. “You’re safe,” he murmured, letting your body sag in relief against him.

Even as the ex scrambled away, humiliated and cautious, Baku didn’t move. His protective stance remained, a shadow between you and any potential threat. You leaned into him, letting yourself breathe again, knowing that no one would ever hurt you while he was around.

⋆ ˚｡𖦹 Go Hyun-tak

The neon glow of the arcade reflected in puddles on the ground, water rippling beneath the faint hum of machines. Your past abuser leaned casually against a claw machine, smirk plastered on their face, pretending to be friendly. Memories of public embarrassment, teasing, and cruel whispers bubbled up inside you, making your stomach twist.

Gotak had been sitting nearby, pretending to be focused on a game, but his dark eyes immediately caught the way your shoulders tensed, your hands fidgeting with your bag strap, and the subtle step you took backward. He didn’t rush over—he never rushed—but he watched, calculating, noting every micro-expression of fear.

When the ex reached toward your bag under the guise of “helping,” Gotak moved like a shadow, stepping in silently. “You don’t touch her,” he said, voice low, flat but carrying a weight that made the ex falter. They tried to laugh it off, shrugging like they weren’t scared, but Gotak’s knee shot up sharply into their midsection. The ex doubled over, wheezing, their smirk replaced with shock.

Gotak didn’t waste a second. He leaned close, letting his arm drape protectively over your shoulders, pressing a soft, grounding kiss to your temple. “All done,” he murmured. You exhaled shakily, letting yourself lean into him as the storm of past memories slowly ebbed. Even when the ex stumbled away, Gotak’s watchful eyes never left, ensuring you remained shielded, safe, and anchored in the present.

⋆ ˚｡𖦹 Seo Jun-tae

The cafeteria buzzed with students, laughter and chatter blending into a dull roar. Your ex leaned casually against the counter, smirk in place, nudging classmates and pretending to be friendly. Your chest tightened, memories of whispered insults and public humiliation flooding your mind.

Jun-tae had been quietly eating at a nearby table, eyes scanning the room, as always aware of the subtleties around him. The way your gaze flitted nervously toward the ex, the slight step backward, the tightening of your fists—it all registered instantly. He didn’t panic, didn’t yell; he observed, waiting for the moment to act.

When the ex stepped closer to you, trying to regain the casual facade, Jun-tae moved with sharp precision. Without warning, he delivered a swift kick to the groin. The ex doubled over, startled, clutching themselves in pain. Jun-tae straightened slowly, a quiet smirk on his face, pride flickering in his dark eyes at the effectiveness of his move.

He approached you immediately afterward, hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “Nobody’s going to touch you again,” he whispered, brushing your hair back from your face. You leaned into him, chest unclenching as his protective presence radiated calm authority. He stayed alert, scanning the cafeteria to ensure the ex wouldn’t try anything further, letting you breathe in safety and relief.

⋆ ˚｡𖦹 Geum Seong-je

The bathroom smelled faintly of bleach, the echo of dripping water accentuating every movement. Your ex leaned against the sink, smirk wide. “Well, well… look who it is. Didn’t expect to see you here,” they said, voice dripping with fake friendliness. Memories of whispered insults, shoved lockers, and cruel laughter at your old school hit you like a wave, and you instinctively took a step back.

Seong-je, standing near the door, noticed immediately—the way your shoulders tensed, your chest tightening, your fingers curling slightly. He didn’t rush, didn’t panic, but the dark edge in his gaze sharpened.

“You really think you can just waltz back into her life?” the ex continued, leaning forward, tone mocking. Seong-je’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “I think you’re about to find out how wrong that idea is,” he said flatly.

When the ex lunged toward you, trying to grab your arm, Seong-je sidestepped effortlessly and jabbed his elbow into their ribs. The ex staggered, wheezing, and then shouted, “What the hell?!” Seong-je chuckled softly, drawing out his phone. “Smile. This is for memories,” he said, snapping a picture of their furious face.

The ex, enraged, swung at him, teeth gritted. Seong-je caught their wrist, twisting it, and then delivered a sharp punch to their jaw, sending them sprawling to the floor. He crouched down, brushing a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, his expression softening. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, pressing a protective kiss to your temple. You leaned into him, chest unclenching, and felt safe for the first time since seeing the smirk.

Even after the ex scrambled away, humiliated and seething, Seong-je stayed close, hand lightly on your back. “Some people never learn,” he muttered quietly, tone teasing but protective.

⋆ ˚｡𖦹 Kang Woo-young

The gym reeked faintly of sweat and chalk, echoes of basketballs and sneakers filling the space. Your ex blocked part of the court, grinning smugly. “Oh, so this is where you ended up? You really think you can just forget me?” they taunted, voice dripping with false charm. Your chest tightened, memories of public humiliation and cruel games at your old school rushing back.

Woo-young, tying his shoes nearby, saw everything. The stiffening of your shoulders, the subtle step backward, the way your eyes darted nervously—they all registered. His jaw tightened, a quiet warning flashing in his dark eyes.

The ex reached for your arm, voice mockingly sweet. “Come on, don’t be shy… I just want to catch up.” Woo-young didn’t hesitate. He grabbed their wrist firmly, twisting it just enough to make them yelp. “Not today,” he said flatly, tone calm but dangerous.

“Whoa, relax! It’s just a joke!” the ex protested, trying to act casual, but Woo-young’s gaze pinned them like a predator. When they lunged forward, swinging, he sidestepped and delivered a sharp shove into their chest, sending them stumbling into the wall.

He turned to you immediately, draping a strong arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. His lips brushed your temple in a soft, grounding kiss. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. You leaned into him, chest unclenching as the tension melted. Even as the ex scrambled away, angry and humiliated, Woo-young’s presence remained, protective and unwavering, making you feel completely safe.

⋆ ˚｡𖦹 Na Baek-jin

The alley smelled damp, the faint stench of trash mixing with the cold night air. Your ex leaned against the brick wall, smirk fixed, tone mocking. “Well, well… didn’t think I’d run into you here. Still the same scared little—” they started, voice dripping with arrogance.

Your chest tightened instantly, memories of whispered threats, public humiliation, and manipulation flooding back. You instinctively took a step back, your hands clenching, body tense.

Baek-jin appeared behind you almost silently, his tall frame imposing. His eyes, dark and unreadable, fixed on the ex with a quiet intensity that made the air feel heavier. He didn’t say anything at first—he didn’t need to. His mere presence radiated a warning.

The ex laughed nervously, trying to feign control. “Relax, it’s just me. Don’t get all tense now,” they said, voice faltering slightly under Baek-jin’s glare.

Baek-jin’s hand shot out, gripping the ex by the collar and lifting them effortlessly off their feet. “You think you can touch her again?” he asked, voice low, calm, but sharp enough to slice through steel. “I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The ex struggled, trying to laugh, trying to bluff their way out, but Baek-jin’s grip tightened. “You think this is funny?” he asked quietly, almost coldly. His fingers constricted like a vice around their throat, making it impossible for them to breathe. Panic replaced arrogance in their eyes as Baek-jin leaned closer. “Stay away from her. Forever.”

Finally releasing them, Baek-jin pushed the ex against the wall, letting them slump to the ground, gasping. He turned to you immediately, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his expression softening. “You’re safe now,” he murmured, pressing a brief, grounding kiss to your temple. You exhaled shakily, leaning into his arm, letting his presence shield you from the lingering fear.

Even as the ex scrambled away, humiliated and terrified, Baek-jin remained standing close, a silent wall of protection. His hand rested lightly on your shoulder, his body close enough to reassure you that he’d never let anyone hurt you again.

⋆ ˚｡𖦹

a/n: really hope you enjoyed this I’m not that good at making it very character accurate but I did try my best and this was sooo interesting to write !! :)

masterlist

[lilswooddd]

wrecked

recommended song to listen to while reading

——> earned it (fifty shades of grey) - the weeknd

⤷ summary: After a brutal fight leaves Baekjin bruised and simmering with rage, you know exactly how to help him unwind—with your mouth, your body, and every ounce of devotion he craves but won’t ask for.

⤷ contains: consensual power dynamics, aftercare, emotional vulnerability masked by dominance, smut

⤷ pairing: aged up !! bruised!baekjin x worried!reader

⤷ word count: 1.3k

⤷ tw: mild violence, p in v, bruises/injuries, aggressive sex, hair-pulling, possessive behavior, brief choking, obsessive undertones , oral (m receiving)

The apartment feels suffocating in its silence. You've been pacing for what feels like hours, the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall echoing unnaturally loud in the empty space. Each glance at your phone - screen stubbornly dark, no notifications - makes your stomach twist tighter. Baekjin always texts if he's running late. Always. The city lights bleed through the half-open window, painting streaks of neon across the floor, the distant sounds of traffic and occasional shouts from the streets below doing nothing to calm your nerves. You chew your lip raw, fingers twisting and untwisting in the fabric of your shirt as you try to convince yourself he's fine, he has to be fine, but the gnawing worry in your gut refuses to be quieted.

When the door finally clicks open well past midnight, you spin around so fast you nearly lose your balance. There he stands in the doorway, and the sight of him steals your breath. Baekjin looks...

wrecked.

His normally immaculate uniform is in disarray - jacket hanging precariously off one shoulder, crisp white shirt untucked and clinging to his torso with sweat. But it's his hands that catch your attention first - those elegant, dangerous hands now marred by split knuckles, the skin torn and angry looking. A dark bruise blossoms along his sharp jawline, his perfect lips marred by a cut with a thin trail of dried blood stark against his pale skin.

Yet it's his eyes that truly unsettle you. Usually so sharp and calculating, now they're dark, distant, clouded with something between barely restrained fury and bone-deep exhaustion. He doesn't even look at you as he steps inside, shutting the door behind him with deliberate quietness. Every movement is controlled, precise, like he's holding himself together through sheer force of will.

"Baekjin—" Your voice cracks embarrassingly, the single word thick with concern. He doesn't respond, just moves past you with that same eerie calm to sink onto the edge of the bed. His shoulders are tense beneath the rumpled fabric of his shirt, his fingers flexing absently at his sides as if they still remember the fight, still crave the impact of flesh against flesh.

You approach cautiously, the air between you charged with unspoken tension. The scent of him reaches you first - the metallic tang of blood, the musk of sweat, and beneath it all, that familiar, intoxicating scent that's uniquely Baekjin. "You're hurt," you murmur, hand lifting almost unconsciously to touch his bruised face.

He catches your wrist before you make contact, his grip firm but not painful. His skin is warm against yours, his pulse steady where it thrums beneath your fingertips.

"Don't,"

he says, voice low and rough. It's not quite a command, not quite a plea, but something in between that makes your breath catch.

You understand this look, this mood. He's not angry at you - he's angry at the world, at whoever dared to push him far enough to leave marks, at the weakness of showing any vulnerability at all. So you do the only thing you know will help, the only thing that ever truly brings him back to himself when he's like this.

Your free hand comes up to cover his where it grips your wrist, your thumb stroking gently over his bruised knuckles. "Let me help," you whisper, and then, with more certainty,

"I know what'll make you feel better."

Something shifts in his darkened eyes at your words, a spark of interest cutting through the storm. He releases your wrist, allowing you to sink gracefully to your knees between his spread legs. The position makes your heart race, the power dynamic deliciously skewed even as you're the one taking control in this moment.

Up close, the evidence of his fight is even more apparent. The scent of him is stronger here - iron and sweat and that intoxicating musk that's uniquely male. Your fingers tremble slightly as they work at his belt, the leather sliding free with a quiet hiss that seems obscenely loud in the quiet room. Beneath the fabric of his briefs, he's already hard, the thick outline of his cock straining against the material.

You hook your fingers into the waistband, dragging them down just enough to free him, and oh god. He's beautiful like this - flushed and heavy in your hand, the tip already glistening with moisture. You can't resist leaning in to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the head, and the way his breath catches, the way his thighs tense beneath your touch, sends a thrill of power straight to your core.

"Good girl," he murmurs, the praise sending heat flooding through you. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, pressing gently until you part for him. "Now open."

You obey without hesitation, taking him into your mouth with a slow, deliberate slide of your lips down his length. The first taste of him is intoxicating - salt and skin and something indefinably Baekjin. His hips twitch beneath you, his fingers tightening in your hair as you hollow your cheeks and suck.

By the time you take him deeper, relaxing your throat to accommodate more of him, his control is visibly fraying. "Fuck—" The word is rough, wrecked, torn from his throat as you work him with your mouth. "Deeper."

You obey, letting him push further until your nose brushes his base, your throat fluttering around him. The groan that escapes him is filthy, his fingers twisting in your hair as he starts to move, short, sharp thrusts that make your eyes water.

"That's it," he growls, watching with dark eyes as spit drips from your stretched lips. "Take it all."

And you do, willingly, eagerly, reveling in the way he uses your mouth, the way he takes what he needs from you. The stretch of your lips around him, the occasional brush of his cock against the back of your throat, the way your jaw starts to ache - it's all perfect, all exactly what you both need in this moment.

He doesn't give you time to recover when he's had enough. One hand yanks you up by your hair, the other shoving you backward onto the mattress with surprising gentleness despite the urgency. You barely have time to gasp before he's flipping you onto your back, his body heavy and warm as he settles between your thighs.

"You asked for this," he reminds you, voice dark with promise as he drags your legs up over his shoulders. The position leaves you exposed, vulnerable, and so incredibly aroused you can feel your own wetness coating your thighs.

Then he's pushing inside, one smooth, brutal thrust that steals the breath from your lungs. He's big, stretching you deliciously, filling you completely in a way that makes you see stars. There's no gentle warm-up, no slow build - just the relentless snap of his hips as he sets a punishing pace, his cock driving deep with every thrust.

"Should've known you'd be this tight," he rasps against your ear, the words sending shivers down your spine. His breath is hot against your skin, his body covering yours completely as he fucks you with single-minded intensity.

You claw at the sheets, arching up to meet each thrust as he finds that perfect angle that makes your vision blur. Every snap of his hips punches a moan from your lips, every deep grind of his pelvis sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. The room fills with the sounds of skin against skin, your ragged breaths, his low groans, the lewd, wet sounds of him moving inside you.

"Look at you," he murmurs, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he holds you open for him. "Taking me so fucking good."

And you are, you know you are - your body clenching around him, your nails leaving crescent marks in his shoulders, your breathy little moans filling the air between you. The pleasure builds rapidly, coiling tight in your belly until you're teetering on the edge, so close you can taste it.

When he finally comes, it's with a low groan, his body shuddering above you as he spills deep inside. The feeling of him pulsing within you, the way his hips stutter against yours, tips you over the edge as well, your orgasm crashing through you with dizzying intensity.

He collapses beside you afterward, breath ragged, one arm slung possessively over your waist. You turn into him, pressing a soft kiss to his bruised knuckles before murmuring, "Better?"

His lips brush your shoulder in answer, the simple gesture speaking volumes. And in that moment, with his body warm against yours and the quiet settling around you both, it's all the answer you need.

✧.*

a/n: I’ve been practicing smut and I feel like this is better than the previous one I wrote but do let me know if this is good, and tysm for reading ! <3

masterlist

[lilswooddd]

silent storm

recommended song to listen to while reading

——> anything - adrianne lenker

⤷ summary: The glow that once lit up every room has started to dim. Su-ho notices the quiet, the emptiness where your laughter used to be—and sometimes, silence says more than words ever could.

⤷ contains: Angst, fluff, body dysmorphia, depression, emotional breakdown, comforting hold, head/kisses, wordless sobbing, tender care

⤷ pairing: suho x depressed!reader

⤷ word count: 1.1k

⤷ tw: Body dysmorphia / self-hate, depression / emotional breakdown, crying / strong emotional distress, brief mentions of disordered eating

⤷ s/n: If you ever feel like this story hits close to home, it’s okay to reach out to someone you trust or a professional. You’re not alone, and support is always available.

You used to be impossible. Bright, unstoppable, a little whirlwind that carried laughter and warmth into every corner of the room. You used to drag Su-ho out for every snack, laughing with your mouth full, insisting he taste everything first. You loved food the way most people loved air: it energized you, made you glow, made you alive. You’d shove takeout into your mouth, cheeks puffed, giggling at the ridiculousness of it all, and he’d laugh along, eyes soft, watching you with the quiet fondness he always reserved just for you.

Now… it was different.

You sat on the edge of his bed tonight, knees drawn to your chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, eyes fixed somewhere past the wall, and the energy that had always filled his room was gone. The room smelled faintly of the takeout he had just ordered, steam still rising from the containers on the desk beside the bed. Normally, you would have bounded over to inspect everything, arguing over which chicken wing deserved the first bite, laughing at how messy the noodles were, playfully shoving him as he protested. Tonight, you hunched quietly, pushing away from the food without a word, shoulders tight, hands clasped.

He noticed immediately. He had noticed the quiet refusals before, the way you had started pushing away food over the past weeks, muttering excuses he had nodded at awkwardly, letting you be. But tonight… tonight, it was undeniable.

No. This isn’t her.

He sat on the floor beside you, his knees bent, one arm resting on the bed’s edge near your side. His fingers twitched slightly, reaching for yours before deciding against it. He needed you to know he saw you, but he didn’t want to scare you. Not now.

“y/n…” His voice was soft, steady, almost fragile, and you turned your head just enough to glance at him, eyes empty but wary.

“I’m… fine,” you whispered, voice barely audible. It was thin, fragile, and it hurt him to hear it.

He shook his head slowly. “You’re not fine,” he said, quietly but firmly. “I can see it. Don’t… don’t try to hide it from me.”

You swallowed, blinking rapidly, trying to force your composure. But the dam had already started to crack. Your hands gripped your knees tighter, and a shaky breath escaped before it could be stopped.

She’s not okay.

He shifted closer, lowering himself slightly so his shoulder brushed yours, giving you a gentle, grounding presence. He didn’t speak again, just let himself be there, steady and still.

A single tear rolled down your cheek. You wiped at it, but it was too late. Another followed, and then another. Your breath hitched, shallow and uneven. He watched, heart tightening, as your chest rose and fell erratically, the small frame of your body trembling.

Without thinking, he moved, sliding an arm behind your back and the other under your knees, helping you lean into him. You didn’t resist. You couldn’t. Your body pressed into his, and the quiet sobs that had been building all night spilled out, uncontrolled and raw.

He held you close, chest against yours, forehead resting atop your head. The warmth between you was the only anchor in the room, in the world that suddenly felt cold and empty. His hands moved instinctively, brushing strands of hair from your face, smoothing them down, tucking errant locks gently behind your ear.

You don’t have to fight alone.

The sobs grew stronger, wracking your body, and he let you. Let you release everything. He rested his chin lightly atop your head, pressing a soft kiss to the crown as if he could transfer some of his steadiness into you. You clung to him instinctively, small hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. He held tighter, careful not to hurt you, just keeping you anchored to him.

Minutes passed, maybe hours — time didn’t exist in that room, only the rise and fall of your breathing and the quiet beat of his heart. Each shudder, each tear, each hiccup of your sobbing tore at him, but he stayed, never letting go.

Finally, the sobs slowed, though your body still trembled slightly against him. He pressed another soft kiss to your head, inhaling the faint scent of your hair, memorizing this moment.

“Shh… it’s okay,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

You pressed your face deeper into his chest, letting him hold you, and he moved carefully, adjusting the blanket over your shoulders, brushing your hair from your face, curling a strand gently around his fingers to keep it from tangling. Every movement was slow, deliberate, as if he could stitch your broken pieces back together with just his hands.

He rested his forehead lightly against yours, lips brushing the crown of your head again. “You’re not alone,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

You shuddered against him, the sobs finally faded into quiet hiccups, small breaths that still shook but were calmer. He let them be, keeping you pressed to him, letting the quiet room, the warmth between you, and the soft steady heartbeat against your ear do the comforting he knew words could never fully accomplish.

He thought about how you used to be — laughing, teasing, full of light — and how much he had missed that spark. But looking down at you now, fragile and shaking, he made a silent promise: he would wait for you, protect you, help you find that spark again, and he wouldn’t leave. Not for a second.

Minutes later, when the trembling had slowed further, he shifted slightly, holding you close to his chest, wrapping his arms fully around you. He pressed his lips gently against your hairline, then the top of your head, over and over, until he was sure the small whimpers had stopped. You fit perfectly against him, small and vulnerable, and he held you like that, steady, unyielding.

You’ll get through this. And I’ll be here every step.

He didn’t let go. Not until he was certain you were breathing evenly, peaceful, and safe. Not until he had kissed your head enough that you could feel the warmth, the comfort, the quiet promise of him.

And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you allowed yourself to feel a little safe again, nestled in his arms, wordless but not alone, held by someone who would never let you face the darkness alone.

✧.*

a/n: I was lowkey feeling like shit this whole week so what’s the solution? Make a oneshot for it on tumblr lolll. I did enjoy writing it though and I hope you guys like it bc it’s my own personal idea :)

masterlist

[lilswooddd]

Can you please make a fanfic where the reader is also a bully but not as brutal as seong-je? And like she wears the same glasses as him and almost the same in appearance and personality? And then they both get interested in eachother through each others similarities?

(pls eventual smut)

mirror

recommended song to listen to while reading

——> into it - chase atlantic

⤷ summary: Two ruthless rivals-one who breaks bones, the other who breaks minds-circle each other in a dangerous game of power, their twisted similarities sparking an obsession neither can escape.

⤷ contains: Toxic obsession, mirrored personalities, psychological power plays, possessive behavior, smut

⤷ pairing: aged up !! seongje x similiar!reader

⤷ word count: 1.2k

⤷ tw: p in v ,Aggressive sex, biting/marking, degradation kink, obsessive dynamics, smut, cursing/strong language, hair pulling, orgasm control

The first time Seong-je truly noticed you, it wasn't because you were loud or flashy - it was because of the quiet, calculated way you destroyed people. While he preferred fists and visible bruises, your weapons were words and reputation. You'd cornered the senior class president near the lockers, your voice low and dangerous as you listed every one of his dirty little secrets in excruciating detail. The way his face crumpled, the way his hands shook as he begged you to stop- it was beautiful.

Seong-je leaned against the adjacent locker, arms crossed, watching you work. The resemblance was uncanny - your black glasses identical to his, your uniform jacket hanging off one shoulder in the same careless way. When you finally noticed him staring, you didn't flinch. Just adjusted your glasses with one finger and smirked.

"Enjoying the show?" you asked, voice dripping with false sweetness.

Seong-je pushed off the locker and stepped closer, invading your space. "You missed something," he murmured, close enough that his breath ghosted over your ear. "He's cheating on his girlfriend with her younger sister."

You laughed, sharp and unexpected. "I was saving that for finals week."

The game began that day - a silent battle of wills between two predators circling each other. You'd leave half-smoked cigarettes in his locker. He'd retaliate by having his boys spread rumors you'd already started yourself. When you began sitting at his usual lunch table, he didn't make you move - just sat across from you, watching through mirrored lenses as you stole food off his tray without asking.

"Got a death wish?" he asked when you took the last piece of kimbap.

You chewed slowly, staring right back. "No but the kimbap’s great” not taking him seriously.

The cafeteria fell silent. No one talked to Seong-je like that. No one but you.

Rain pounded against the classroom windows the afternoon he finally cornered you properly. You were erasing the blackboard after detention - not yours; you'd framed the student council president for cheating - when the door clicked shut behind you.

Seong-je leaned against it, arms crossed. "You forgot something." He held up a notebook with your name in that messy handwriting he'd come to recognize.

You didn't reach for it. "Keep it, not like I care”

That made him laugh - a real, startled sound he hadn't heard from himself in years. When you turned to face him, rainwater from your hair dripped down your neck, disappearing under your collar. Seong-je tracked the movement with a focus that made your pulse jump.

"You're interesting," he said, stepping closer.

You held your ground. "You're predictable."

He reached out, slow as a predator, and removed your glasses. The way your eyes widened - just for a second - before schooling your expression was more satisfying than any fight he'd ever won.

"They look better on me," he murmured, putting them on. The world through your lenses was slightly blurry. He liked it.

When you grabbed for them, he caught your wrist, pressing your palm flat against his chest. His heartbeat under your fingers was steady. Calm. "Tell me to stop," he challenged.

Your nails dug into his shirt. “What if I don’t want you to stop?"

Seong-je's apartment was exactly what you expected - all dark wood and leather, the city lights stretching out below like spilled ink. He didn't bother with pleasantries. The moment the door closed behind you, he had you pinned against it, his body pressing yours into the cool wood.

"Still think you're so clever?" he growled against your throat, his teeth scraping over your pulse.

You arched into him, your fingers twisting in his hair. "Prove to me I'm not, or are you scared?"

He laughed, dark and low, before dragging you toward the bedroom. The air between you crackled with tension, with the unspoken challenge that had been building for weeks.

Seong-je pushed you onto the bed, his hands already working open the buttons of your blouse. There was no hesitation in his touch - just that same calculated precision he applied to everything. When his mouth found your breast, his tongue flicking over your nipple, you gasped, arching into him.

"Knew you weren't as cold as you pretend," he muttered against your skin. His fingers traced the waistband of your skirt before slipping underneath, squeezing your thigh hard enough to bruise.

You retaliated by biting his shoulder, smiling at his sharp inhale. "Still think you're the only predator here?"

Seong-je's grip turned punishing as he flipped you onto your stomach. One hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back as he used the other to push your skirt up around your waist. His fingers slid between your legs, finding you already wet, and he groaned against your ear.

"Fuck, look at you," he murmured, working two fingers inside you with ruthless efficiency. "All this time playing tough, and you're dripping for me."

You whimpered, pushing back against his hand, but he just chuckled and removed his fingers. The sound of his belt unbuckling sent a shiver down your spine.

"Ass up." he ordered, his voice rough with want.

You obeyed, bracing yourself on your elbows as he positioned himself behind you. The first press of his cock against your entrance made you tense, but Seong-je didn't give you time to adjust. He pushed in with one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt with a groan that sounded almost pained.

"Fuck," he hissed, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "So fucking tight."

You clenched around him, relishing the way his breath hitched. Seong-je responded by pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, the force of it driving you forward. One hand left your hip to tangle in your hair, yanking your head back as he set a brutal pace.

"Look at you," he growled, his voice thick with arousal. "Taking me so fucking well."

Each thrust drove the air from your lungs, each snap of his hips sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. When his hand came down on your ass with a sharp slap, you cried out, the sting only fueling the fire burning low in your belly.

"That's it," Seong-je murmured, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fucked you harder. "Let me hear you."

You didn't hold back - couldn't if you tried. Every moan, every whimper only seemed to spur him on, his pace becoming more erratic as he neared his own release. His fingers found your clit, rubbing rough circles that had you seeing stars.

"Come for me baby" he ordered, his voice rough in your ear.

The command, coupled with the relentless pressure of his fingers and the deep thrusts of his cock, sent you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed through you with dizzying intensity, your body clamping down around him as you cried out his name.

Seong-je followed moments later, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside you with a groan that sounded almost pained. He collapsed over you, his chest heaving against your back, his forehead resting between your shoulder blades.

For several long moments, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing. Then Seong-je rolled off you, pulling you with him so you were sprawled across his chest. His fingers traced idle patterns on your back, his other arm draped possessively over your waist.

Morning light found you tracing the marks you'd left on his back. Seong-je caught your wrist, his grip firm but not painful as he pulled you closer.

"Stay," he ordered, voice rough with sleep.

You didn't argue.

✧.*

a/n: I tried my best but bear with me i am NOT good at writing smut but this was so interesting to write

masterlist

[lilswooddd]

hey queen, could you do a oneshot about tom riddle x reader? like REAL enemies to lovers with alot of sexual tension! ty

higher than him.

recommended song to listen to while reading

——> love is a bitch - two feet

⤷ summary: When you score higher than Tom Riddle at Hogwarts, your long-standing rivalry intensifies—until the tension between you finally breaks in a way neither of you expected.

⤷ contains: smut, Power struggle turned sexual, choking, possessive dominance, missionary sex with psychological control , academic rivalry

⤷ pairing: aged up!! tom riddle x academic rival!reader

⤷ word count: 1.4k

⤷ tw: p in v, obsessive behavior, breathplay , smut, dominance fight, cursing/strong language, orgasm control

Professor Slughorn had barely set the stack of graded parchments down when you noticed it: Tom Riddle’s perfectly calm expression flickering for half a second. You glanced down at your own parchment, pulse skipping when you saw the bright red “Outstanding – highest in the class.”

Higher than him.

You tried not to grin, but the satisfaction burned at the edges of your mouth as you slid your paper into your bag. You didn’t miss the way Tom’s quill tapped once against his desk before he tucked his own parchment away without a word.

He didn’t look at you for the rest of the lesson. But you could feel it — his silence wasn’t indifference. It was plotting.

The first time he “got back” at you, it was almost clever. You’d left your essay draft on the table in the library only to return and find the last two feet of parchment blank, your ink vanished without a trace. You caught the faintest sound of amusement from the next table over, and when you glanced through the shelves, Tom was there — book open, lips curved just slightly.

The next day, the book you needed for Charms was missing. Madam Pince swore it had been checked out. Hours later, you spotted it under Tom’s arm as he left the library, not even pretending to hide it.

By the end of the week, your patience snapped.

That’s how you found yourself striding down into the Slytherin dorms, ignoring the scandalized stares from passing students as you pushed past the green-lit corridor. Tom’s door wasn’t even locked. Typical — as though he knew you’d come.

He was at his desk when you burst in, quill poised above a parchment. His head lifted lazily at the sound, and those dark eyes met yours with an unreadable calm that only made you angrier.

“Really?” you demanded, slamming the door behind you. “You’ve been sabotaging me all week just because I beat you on one exam?”

He didn’t answer. He set the quill down slowly, folding his hands on the desk. His silence was infuriating.

“I know it’s you,” you pressed, voice sharp. “The missing books, the ink, the smug little looks every time I so much as breathe near you—do you honestly think I’m that dense?”

His lips twitched, not quite a smile, not quite denial.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. “You can’t stand the idea of not being the best for five seconds, can you? Merlin forbid someone else outpaces you.”

The quiet stretched. He leaned back slightly in his chair, gaze fixed on you like he was dissecting your every word. The intensity of it made your pulse thrum faster, but you pushed on.

“You know what the funny part is? I don’t even care if I never beat you again. I don’t spend my nights obsessing over besting Tom Riddle.” You huffed a breath, heat rising in your chest. “But you—clearly, you can’t let it go. It’s pathetic.”

Something flickered in his expression then, sharp and dangerous, though his voice—when he finally spoke—was maddeningly low and calm.

“Pathetic?”

The single word sent a shiver down your spine, but you stood your ground, stepping closer. “Yes. Pathetic. All your brilliance, all your clever little tricks, and what? You waste it tormenting me over one grade. It’s childish.”

You realized only then how close you’d gotten. He had stood at some point, soundless, and now he was inches away. The green glow of the lanterns carved sharp shadows across his cheekbones, his eyes fixed on you with a focus that made your breath stutter.

But you refused to falter. “What, nothing to say now? You’ve always been so good at speeches, Riddle. At looking down at everyone like you’re untouchable. Except right now, you’re not untouchable. You’re cornered.”

The corner of his mouth curved, a slow, dangerous smirk. Not because you were wrong, but because he’d let you talk yourself into this corner.

Your chest rose and fell too quickly, anger muddling into something hotter, something you hated to admit you’d felt for weeks whenever his gaze lingered too long.

The silence between you cracked.

You moved first — or maybe he did — but suddenly his mouth was on yours, fierce and consuming. Your back hit the door with a thud, his hand braced beside your head, the other catching your wrist before you could push him away. You didn’t want to push him away.

Your words dissolved into a gasp against his lips as he deepened the kiss, all sharp edges and hunger. The rivalry that had burned for years collapsed into something reckless, unstoppable.

“Tom—” you managed between breaths, though it wasn’t a protest.

His lips curved against yours, a sound like a quiet laugh rumbling from his throat as he pulled you closer still. Heat surged through every nerve, every stubborn piece of pride shattering under the press of him against you.

You barely registered moving until your knees hit the edge of his bed. His hand slid to your waist, steady and insistent, guiding you back. Your thoughts scattered, your heart hammering as the world narrowed to the fire in his touch and the smirk in his kiss.

And then he pushed you down onto the mattress.

The moment your back hit his sheets, Tom's hands became weapons. His fingers wrapped around your throat—not squeezing yet, just resting there like a promise. His other hand pinned your wrist above your head, his knee forcing your legs apart with terrifying ease.

"Pathetic?" he murmured, lips brushing your ear. His voice was velvet over steel. "You came to my room. My bed." His teeth grazed your pulse point—not biting, just enough to make you shiver. "Who's really cornered here?"

You bucked against him, but he only laughed—a dark, delicious sound that coiled low in your stomach. His grip on your throat tightened just slightly.

"Say it," he breathed. "Say you wanted this."

You glared up at him, chest rising and falling too fast. "I wanted to win."

Tom's smile was slow, dangerous. "Then let's see who does."

His free hand made quick work of your buttons, sliding fabric off your shoulders with deliberate precision. When you were bare beneath him, he paused—just to watch your chest rise and fall, just to see your nipples pebble under his gaze.

"Beautiful," he mused, tracing a finger down your sternum. "But still mine to ruin."

His hand slid between your legs, fingers slipping beneath your waistband. You gasped as he found you already wet, his chuckle dark with triumph.

"All week," he murmured, working you open with cruel precision. "All those clever little games... and here you are. Dripping for me."

You tried to twist away, but his other hand returned to your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch.

"Stay. Still."

When he finally pushed inside, it wasn't gentle. He filled you in one smooth thrust, his hips pressing flush against yours as he let out a low groan. For a moment, neither of you moved—just breathing, just feeling the heat of him buried deep inside you.

Then he began to move.

Slow at first, agonizingly so, each drag of his cock against your walls making your toes curl. His grip on your throat was firm but controlled, his thumb stroking your pulse point as he watched your face.

"You feel perfect," he murmured, voice rough. "Like you were made for me."

You arched against him, nails digging into his shoulders. "Shut up and fuck me."

Tom's eyes darkened. "Since you asked so nicely."

His pace turned punishing, hips snapping against yours with enough force to shake the bed. Every thrust dragged a broken sound from your lips, every brush of his fingers against your throat sending sparks through your veins.

"Look at you," he growled, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. "Taking me like you were born to."

His free hand slid between you, fingers finding your clit with unerring precision. The dual sensation—his cock deep inside you, his fingers working you just right—had you teetering on the edge in moments.

"Tom—"

"Come for me," he ordered, voice rough. "Now."

You shattered with a cry, your body clamping around him as pleasure ripped through you. Tom followed moments later, his hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside you with a groan that sounded almost pained.

For one endless moment, he stayed there—forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling, his grip on your throat finally loosening.

Then he pulled out, straightening his robes with infuriating calm.

"Next time," he said mildly, as if discussing the weather, "I expect you to beg properly."

You watched, still gasping, as he turned to leave—until he paused at the door, glancing back with that same razor-edged smile.

"Unless you'd rather lose again?"

✧.*

a/n: first time writing for tom riddle and I’m actually pleased with how this turned out tbh

masterlist

[lilswooddd]

inferno.

recommended song to listen to while reading

——> call out my name - the weeknd

⤷ summary: The club is loud, but it’s not the music that makes your heart race—it’s him. Su-bong’s gaze follows your every move, protective and intense, and when someone gets too close, his jealousy is undeniable. The charged closeness between you leaves no room for doubt: he’s yours, and you’re his.

⤷ contains: Romance, tension, flirtation, intense attraction, protective gestures, smut, takes place outside of the games

⤷ pairing: posessive/jealous!thanos x reader

⤷ word count: 2.1k

⤷ tw: smut, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), back scratching/leaving scars, romantic tension and jealousy protective/possessive behaviour, emotional intensity and suspense, close physical proximity and flirtation

The music thumps through the club, but it’s not the bass that makes your pulse quicken. It’s him—Su-bong, leaning against the wall near the bar, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes tracking every movement you make. He doesn’t move onto the dance floor; he doesn’t need to. Just his presence is enough to make your chest tighten.

You sway with the beat, hips rolling, arms lifting, completely aware of him watching. And then someone presses close behind you—too close. A stranger’s hands brush your waist, a little lingering, a little too familiar. You freeze for a heartbeat, tension prickling your skin.

Before you can step back, you feel it: the iron grip of Su-bong’s hand on your wrist. Firm, unyielding, pulling you just far enough from the stranger.

“Su-bong—” your voice is sharp, low, almost lost in the music. “I could’ve—”

“Not this time,” he interrupts, voice flat, edged with a dark heat that makes your chest tighten further. He drags you through the crowd, never letting go, until the air outside hits you like ice.

The cold doesn’t break the tension—it sharpens it. You stare at him, breath fogging between you, and he doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away. His proximity makes your body betray you. Just the distance of a few inches is enough for your stomach to coil, for your pulse to spike.

“You’re controlling everything again,” you mutter, trying to step back.

He doesn’t move. “Not everything. Just this.” His voice is low, steady, a promise and a threat all at once. He leans slightly closer, and the gap between your faces is so small you can feel the warmth from his breath, smell the faint tang of him, and suddenly it’s impossible to think straight.

In the car, the tension becomes almost unbearable. Silence stretches like it could snap at any moment. Your shoulders press against the seatbelt, your fingers curling nervously. You catch him glancing at you, and the brief eye contact is enough to make your stomach twist.

“I could’ve—” you start, and he leans toward you, just slightly, so that his arm brushes yours. Inches apart, almost touching, and the heat radiating off him is suffocating.

“You could’ve,” he murmurs, eyes dark, lips barely moving as if tasting the word, “but you didn’t.”

Your chest tightens. His knee is close enough that when he shifts slightly, your thighs almost brush. Every small movement is charged, electric. The car feels smaller, heavier, like the world has shrunk until it’s just the two of you.

By the time you reach your apartment, you’re both hyper-aware of the space between you. The door clicks, and suddenly he’s turning toward you. Just standing there, close enough that you can feel the heat from his body, his chest barely an inch from yours.

“You think anyone gets to touch you like that?” he asks, voice low, almost a growl.

“I could’ve handled it,” you spit out, defiance sharp, but your pulse betrays you.

He doesn’t move away. Instead, he tilts his head, lowering it slightly, so your foreheads almost touch. Just inches. Your breaths mingle in the small space between your lips, hearts hammering, and the tension is so thick it’s like a living thing pressing against your skin.

“You think you can handle him,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper, “without me?” His gaze holds yours, dark and intense.

“I could’ve—” you repeat, almost inaudible, but it’s swallowed by the space between you.

And then he leans closer. So close that you can feel his lips brushing against yours without even touching, the heat, the sharpness, the danger, all waiting in that breath of space. You can’t look away. Your body wants to step back, but your chest wants to press forward.

Every second stretches, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. Your noses almost touch. His hands hover near your waist, just inches away from claiming you. Your fingers twitch, itching to grip him, to close the gap yourself.

“You know what happens now,” he murmurs, his lips so close you can feel the warmth, the unspoken promise.

Your knees go weak. The air feels electric. And then, finally, with a movement slow enough to torture you, deliberate enough to burn into memory, his lips find yours.

The first press of his lips steals your breath. It’s not soft or tentative—it’s deliberate, demanding, claiming. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket, trying to anchor yourself while your body betrays you, leaning forward, pressing into him.

His hands find your waist, gripping, holding you flush against him. The wall behind you bites into your back, but you barely notice. All that exists is him—heat radiating, teeth grazing yours, tongue sliding over yours in a way that’s both punishment and temptation.

You try to pull back, to protest, but your arms drop, your lips parting for him, giving in despite your resolve. He growls low in his throat, a vibration that runs through you, and it makes your knees weaken.

Step by step, he guides you backward, lips never leaving yours, hands roaming from your waist to your back, pressing, squeezing, claiming. You stumble onto the couch, and he follows, straddling your thighs before you even realize it. His hands slide under your shirt, brushing your sides, making you arch against him involuntarily.

“Su-bong…” you breathe, almost a plea, almost a warning, but he doesn’t stop. He leans down, teeth grazing your collarbone as his lips trail back to yours, rough, punishing. Every kiss, every nibble, sets fire along your nerves.

Your hands claw at his shoulders, twisting, pulling, wanting to push him away but also needing him closer. He chuckles against your mouth, deep and low, and it drives a shiver through your spine.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters, voice husky, “and I can’t let anyone have that.”

You gasp when his hands slip around your back, pulling you flush against him, chest to chest, every inch of you pressed against him. The couch becomes too small, the room too tight, but he doesn’t care. Every motion is sharp, deliberate, claiming you like he’s marking territory.

When he finally pulls back for a breath, his lips barely leave yours, and his eyes darken, almost feral. “Bedroom,” he growls, dragging you up with him. You stumble, half-laughing, half-breathless, as he keeps you pinned close.

The moment you hit the bedroom, he spins you, pressing your back against the wall. Your breaths mingle, ragged, hearts hammering in unison. His lips find yours again, teeth grazing, tongue sliding over yours in a dance that’s rough, insistent, addictive.

You grab at his hair, twisting your fingers through the strands, tugging him closer, and he responds with equal fervor, hands roaming, exploring, pressing, making you arch into him without thought.

Step by step, he moves you backward onto the bed, never breaking the kiss, lips devouring yours, tongue teasing and claiming. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him, your thighs instinctively parting, making room, bending to him without realizing it.

His hands slide under your shirt, pushing it up slowly, breaking the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck and collarbone “Fuck.”His hands finally reach your breasts over your bra, squeezing and kneading roughly

you let out the softest moan, increasing his impatience by the second.

He hooks his fingers into the cups of your bra, yanking them down roughly to expose your breasts fully to his greedy hands and mouth. He dives down, capturing one pert nipple in his hot mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue while his other hand plucks and rolls the other between his fingers. “So perfect”

You arch your back, pressing your breast further into his mouth with a soft moan escaping your lips. His hand squeezes the other breast roughly while his mouth works over your nipple, biting and sucking alternately. His other hand slides down from your nipple to your stomach, towards the waistband of your pants.

your breath hitches when his fingers reach your waistband.

He pops your nipple out of his mouth with a wet sound, trailing kisses down your stomach as he unbuttons your pants slowly. His large hands slide inside, gripping your hips and pulling them down along with your underwear. He reveals your smooth, bare pussy that's already starting to get wet from his touches.

He unbuttons your pants slowly, his fingers grazing your hips as he pulls them down along with your underwear. He reveals your smooth, bare pussy that's already starting to get wet from his touches. He runs his thumbs along your slit, spreading your lips open slightly. “Goddamn”

He leans down, inhaling your scent deeply before running his tongue flat against your slit. He groans against you, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine. He repeats the action, lapping at you slowly, tasting your arousal. His thumbs spread your lips wider apart, holding you open for his mouth. “So fucking sweet.”

His tongue circles your clit gently before flattening against it and sucking hard. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding them apart as he eats you like he's starving. He adds a finger inside you suddenly, curling it up to hit that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

He adds another finger, pumping them slowly while sucking hard on your clit. Your juices coat his fingers and chin, making everything slick and messy. He loves how wet you get for him. “Look at this pretty pussy... so fucking wet and dripping... all for me.”

He stands up suddenly, his face glistening with your juices. He quickly unbuckles his belt and pushes his pants down, freeing his hard cock. It's thick and long, veins pulsing with need. He grabs your thighs and lifts your legs over his shoulders.

He positions himself between your legs, rubbing his thick head against your wet entrance. “Mine. You’re fucking mine.“ He growls possessively, slapping his cock against your clit once before pushing just the tip inside. “No one else gets to touch what's mine...understand?.”

your parted mouth opens even more, letting out an almost pornographic moan. You nod, mind fuzzy.

“Su-bong-“

He pushes more of his length inside you, hissing through his teeth at how tight you are, shutting you up. Your legs shake over his shoulders as he slowly feeds you more of his big dick. “so tight.” He grips your legs tighter, holding them open.

He's only halfway inside you and you're already stretched around his thick cock. He pulls back and pushes in deeper, making you both groan. “I'd kill any motherfucker who tried to put their hands on you.”

He bottoms out inside you with a harsh thrust, his balls slapping against your ass. You gasp and claw at his arms as he holds your legs up high.“There we go.. say it baby” He starts fucking you hard and deep. “Mine.” Loud slaps of skin and moaning fill the room.

You open your mouth to try to say something, barely choking it out “Y-yours-“

“What’s my name?”

“Su-bong-“ you gasp.

“Damn right it is”

He snaps his hips forward, going ball deep inside you. "Jesus..." He mutters, realizing how possessive he's getting. "Spread your legs wider baby," He grunts.

He starts to move faster, his hips slapping against yours with a wet sound. His cock plunges in and out of you, your juices coating his length and making everything slick and messy. He leans over you slightly, changing the angle to hit deeper inside.

He wraps his arms around your thighs, holding your legs apart and up high as he pounds into you harder. His thick head hits your deepest spots with every thrust, making you whimper and cling to him. He loves how helpless and spread open you are under him.”Fuck, fuck.”

Your nails dig into his back, leaving red marks behind as he fucks you into the mattress. He groans when you tug his hair, making him thrust even harder and deeper. Your desperation turns him on so much. “Just like that”

each passing minute , your moans increase and so do his. Every minute guiding you closer to your release.

He buries his face in your neck, biting down as he slams into you over and over. His balls tighten and his cock swells inside you. With one final deep thrust, he holds himself buried inside you and roars as he comes, flooding your pussy with his hot seed.

He collapses beside you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His softening cock slips out of you, leaving you feeling empty and messy. He turns his head towards you and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

✧.*

a/n: I was soo nervous writing this because I’ve never written smut like ever but I do hope you guys enjoyed it (and not cringe at it as I did when I wrote it) buttt this one was a pain in the ass fr

masterlist

[lilswooddd]

Hello!! I absolutely love your works and was wondering if you could do maybe a sieun x reader fluff fic if possible!!🥹 It can really be about anything,just wanted something cutesy with him😞 thank you if you take this request!!🫶

at peace

recommended song to listen to while reading

——> my love mine all mine - mitski

⤷ summary: Late nights, tired eyes, and quiet care—sometimes love shows itself in the smallest ways, the ones you don’t even notice until morning.

⤷ contains: fluff, late-night tutoring, carrying on his back, soft caretaking, hair-tying, forehead kiss

⤷ pairing: sieun + reader

⤷ word count: 1.0k

The library was almost silent, save for the occasional rustle of pages and the scratch of Si-eun’s pen against his notebook. It was late enough that even the staff had gone home, leaving only the two of you tucked away in a forgotten corner, surrounded by scattered notes and half-empty cups of coffee.

Your head dipped lower and lower with each passing second. You tried to fight it—blinking, sitting straighter, even tugging on your sleeve—but the words in your textbook blurred, and the warmth of the quiet night pulled you under.

Si-eun noticed immediately. He always did. The way your pen stilled in your hand, the way your cheek brushed against your palm as your eyes fluttered shut.

His pen slowed, then stopped. He looked at you. Really looked at you. Your lashes rested against your cheeks, your mouth parted slightly, the faintest trace of exhaustion lingering in your expression. You look like art, he thought, before quickly pushing the thought away, his ears heating. He wasn’t the kind of person who said things like that aloud. Not to you. Not to anyone.

“y/n” he murmured softly, testing if you’d stir. No response. Only the even rhythm of your breathing.

He exhaled quietly, setting his pen down. He should wake you up. He should tell you to go home and rest. But the thought of leaving you slumped over a cold library desk at midnight didn’t sit right with him. Not when you trusted him enough to fall asleep here.

Si-eun stood and walked around the table to your side. For a moment, he crouched, studying the lines of your face again, how peaceful you looked. He wondered if you ever realized how much space you took up in his head, how much he noticed. Probably not. You never would.

“you’re hard to deal with huh” he whispered under his breath, though the corner of his mouth tugged slightly upward.

Carefully, he slid your arm over his shoulder and shifted you onto his back. You stirred slightly, mumbling incoherently against his neck, and his chest tightened. He adjusted his hold, steadying your weight with his hands beneath your thighs.

You trust me this much, he realized. That thought alone nearly undid him.

The walk to his apartment was quiet, only the hum of streetlights and the faint sound of your breathing against his shoulder. Every so often, your cheek brushed against his neck, and his pulse stuttered. He kept his eyes forward, forcing himself not to think too much about how close you were, how natural it felt.

By the time he reached his apartment, his arms were aching slightly, but he didn’t care. He nudged the door open with his foot, slipped inside, and closed it softly.

He carried you to his room and lowered you onto the mattress with painstaking care, as though you were fragile porcelain. You shifted slightly, lashes fluttering, but didn’t wake.

Si-eun pulled the blanket over you, tucking it neatly around your shoulders. He paused, just watching you for a moment—the rise and fall of your chest, the calmness on your face. You don’t even know… how beautiful you look when you’re at peace.

Then he noticed your hair. Messy from the long night, strands tangled from leaning on your arm. With a quiet sigh, he reached for the hair tie you always kept around your wrist. Gently, carefully, he gathered your hair, his fingers brushing against the nape of your neck as he tied it loosely. His hands trembled more than he wanted to admit.

“There,” he whispered, though you couldn’t hear him. “That’s better.”

His hand lingered, brushing a stray strand from your forehead. He froze, staring down at you, his expression unreadable as always—but inside, everything ached.

If only you knew. If only I could say it.

Leaning closer, almost cautiously, he pressed the faintest kiss to your forehead. Just a whisper of touch, but enough to make his chest tighten.

“Sleep well,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, meant only for you and the quiet room.

He pulled the desk chair closer to the bed and sat down, folding his arms over the edge, resting his head there. His eyes stayed on you, soft in a way he’d never let you see when you were awake.

Just until morning, he told himself. Just until he was sure you were safe.

But even as exhaustion tugged at him, he didn’t regret a single second.

Because secretly, quietly, hopelessly—Yeon Si-eun loved you.

✧.*

a/n: thank you so much for this request it was so much fun to write especially since it wasn’t so specific love how it turned out, something about sieuns personality is just so comforting tbh

masterlist

[lilswooddd]

˗ˏˋ about me ´ˎ˗

⋅˚₊‧⋅˚₊‧ my spotify

⋅˚₊‧ how long can requests take?

⋅˚₊‧⋅˚₊‧

⋅˚₊‧

[lilswooddd]

sooo I have a few requests rn and I just wanted to say that requests can take multiple days, maybe longer depending on the amount of requests but don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t come immediately I am trying my best to get to each request as fast as possible!! Though I do ignore requests I’m not comfortable writing, and I’m really really sorry but this one you’ll notice if I don’t post your request when it’s been more than a week. have patience with meee pleaseee

love u guys tho <3

[lilswooddd]

Hey I love your writing, I'd like to ask for one of Geum Seong-je as a pairing for the reader who is Baku's sister, obviously it's a secret and Baek Jin finds out that the reader is dating Geum and finds him as a perfect threat for her to join the union and then when Baku finds out his sister is in the union he goes to confront Baek Jin but he says he didn't force the reader, she joined on her own, obviously Baku doesn't even believe it. The reader is Sieun's best friend so she tells her everything and Sieun knew about their relationship. The reader told him everything since Sieun never answers and if she does he's very dry but deep down Sieun loves her and sees her as a younger sister. you choose the ending I love how you write 💓

secretly bound

recommended song to listen to while reading

——> softcore - the neighbourhood

⤷ summary: You’ve kept your relationship with Seong-je a secret for months—until Baek Jin finds out and tries to use it to pull you into the Union. When Baku discovers the truth, he explodes, leaving you torn between family, loyalty, and love. Only Sieun knows the full story, silently watching over you, while Seong-je quietly promises to protect you.

⤷ contains: Fluff, angst, romance, family dynamics, secret relationship, Union-related tension, protective siblings

⤷ pairing: seongje + bakus sister!reader

⤷ word count: 1.1k

⤷ tw: mild violence + threats (union-related) + angst / emotional confrontation + strong language + cursing

You knew this was dangerous. Loving him was dangerous.

But every time Seong-je slipped his hand into yours under the table, or pressed his forehead to yours when nobody was watching, you forgot all about danger. It was supposed to stay hidden, meant to be just between you two, tucked away in the shadows of late nights and stolen moments.

Nobody could ever know. Especially not Baku.

And yet somehow, Seong-je made it feel worth the risk every single time.

“You’re staring,” he murmured one night, leaning against the graffiti-stained wall outside a convenience store. Cigarette smoke curled from his lips as he smirked, eyes glittering like he already knew your answer.

“So what if I am?” you shot back, tugging the cigarette out of his fingers just to annoy him.

He chuckled low in his chest, leaning down, brushing his mouth against yours, slow and reckless. “One day, someone’s gonna catch you looking at me like that.”

You bit your lip. “Only if you don’t shut up first.”

You both laughed, soft, secret, yours. You two were

secretly bound.

The only person who knew was Si-eun. Because you told him.

He barely looked up from his notebook when you said it. You’d waited until class ended, cornered him at his desk, heart pounding out of your chest.

“I’m… I’m dating Geum Seong-je.”

His pen stilled.

Silence stretched thin, sharp enough to snap. Then: “…that’s stupid.” His tone was flat, sharp like always.

“I didn’t ask for your approval.”

“Good. Because you’re not getting it.” He finally glanced at you, expression unreadable, eyes cold but not cruel. “He’s in the Union.”

“I know what he is,” you hissed, crossing your arms. “But you don’t understand him like I do.”

Si-eun’s gaze lingered a moment longer, then he went back to his notebook, flipping the page without another word.

But the next day, when he walked you home, he always did whenever the street got too dark. He didn’t say a word about it. He never would. But you knew. Deep down, he cared. He always had.

It all shattered the night Baek Jin cornered you.

You’d just finished walking home, bag slung over your shoulder, when a voice drawled from the alley ahead.

“Park Hu-min’s little sister.”

You froze. He stepped into the dim streetlight, hands shoved in his pockets, grin too sharp to be anything but trouble.

“Baek Jin,” you muttered, already on edge.

He tilted his head, amused. “Cute secret you’ve been keeping. Geum Seong-je, hm?”

Your blood ran cold.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you forced out.

“Don’t play dumb.” His smirk widened, voice dropping lower. “It’s perfect, actually. You’re perfect. His weak spot. That makes you useful to me.”

Your throat tightened. “Don’t drag him into this.”

He chuckled, dark and slow. “I don’t have to. You’ll do it for me. You want him safe? Join the Union. Simple.”

Your fists clenched. You hated him. Hated how easily he held the strings, how easily he twisted everything you loved into a threat. And deep down, you hated how fast you broke.

“…Fine.”

That was all it took. One word. And suddenly, you were Union.

Baku found out a week later.

He stormed into the hallway like a thunderclap, shoving past anyone in his way. His face was red, jaw tight, fury practically burning off him. The second he spotted Baek Jin across the room, he slammed him against the wall.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” His voice shook the walls.

Baek Jin just laughed, cool as ever, peeling Baku’s hands off his shirt. “No one forced her. She came to me herself. She wanted in.”

“Bullshit,” Baku spat, grabbing him again. “You think I’m gonna believe that?!”

“Believe what you want,” Baek Jin sneered, brushing himself off. “But she’s Union now. That’s the truth.”

Baku froze, chest heaving, the words sinking in like poison. Then he shoved him one last time and stormed out.

And you knew it was only a matter of time before he came looking for you.

He did.

The slam of your bedroom door against the wall made you flinch.

“What the fuck is this?” Baku’s voice was raw, furious, but you could hear it underneath — hurt, and worried as hell for you. “You joined them?”

You swallowed hard, rising to your feet. “Baku—”

“No! Don’t ‘Baku’ me! Tell me this isn’t true!”

Tears pricked your eyes. “It’s not what you think-”

“Then what is it?!” His voice cracked. “You think I spent all this time keeping you safe just for you to run straight into their hands?!”

“I didn’t do it for them!” you finally shouted, fists trembling. “I did it for Seong-je!”

The room went silent.

Baku stared at you like you’d just stabbed him. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding. “For him? You’d betray me for him?”

“I didn’t betray you,” you whispered, voice breaking. “Baek Jin found out. He threatened him. What was I supposed to do? Just let them hurt him? I couldn’t, Baku. I love him.”

He looked away, running both hands through his hair, pacing, muttering curses under his breath. He was shaking, like he didn’t know whether to scream or break down.

“Fuck,” he muttered finally, collapsing onto your bed, elbows on his knees. His voice was rough, raw. “…You’re still my sister. Nothing changes that. But you don’t know what you’re playing with. You think he’s worth it? You think he’ll protect you when it matters?”

You wiped your face with the back of your hand, stepping closer. “He already has. And I don’t need him to protect me from you.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, finally, he exhaled slow, heavy.

“…You’re an idiot.” His eyes flicked up to you, softer now. “But you’re my idiot. And I’m never letting the Union take you away from me. Even if I have to drag you out myself.”

The words cracked you wide open. Before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him. He cursed under his breath, muttering about how stupid you were, but he hugged you back anyway.

And just like that, he forgave you.

Later that night, when the streets were empty and the air was cold, Seong-je found you.

He leaned against the railing by the river, cigarette dangling between his fingers. When you approached, his eyes softened, all sharp edges fading away.

“You told him.”

You nodded, throat tight. “He knows. Everything.”

“And?”

“He forgave me. He’s still pissed at you, though.”

That earned you a grin, crooked and lazy, like always. He flicked his cigarette into the water and pulled you into his chest. His hand slid up your back, firm, grounding.

“Let him hate me. I don’t care.” His voice dropped low, only for you. “As long as you’re mine.”

You buried your face into his jacket, heart pounding. “He’ll never stop trying to protect me, you know.”

Seong-je chuckled, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Then he and I have something in common princess”

And for the first time in weeks, you felt safe.

a/n: something about me just loveessss forbidden romance so this was lovely to write rlly hope you enjoy!! And thank you so much for the sweet words pooks! ^^

masterlist

[lilswooddd]

hi hi there! hope you’re doing well!! im the anon that requested the gotak x artist!reader fic and i just wanted to say its sooooo cute thank you for writing it. your writing is so good!!

tysm pooks u guys don’t understand how much these sweet words mean to me!! <3

I’m really really glad u enjoyed it! feel free to request anytime!!

requests can take days depending on how many I have but I try my best! :)

[lilswooddd]

how whc boys do the lipstick smudge trend

⤷ summary: this is how I think the video would look like for each weak hero character x reader doing the smudge lipstick trend that went viral in 2023

⊹ Go Hyun-tak . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

⊹ Park Hu-min

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

⊹ Yeon Si-eun

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

⊹ Ahn Su-ho

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

⊹ Oh Beom-seok

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

⊹ Seo Jun-tae

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

⊹ Geum Seong-je

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

⊹ Na Baek-jin

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

⊹ Kang Woo-young

✧.*

a/n : feel free to lmk what you’d like me to do next ! ♡︎

masterlist

[lilswooddd]

Hello, I would like to ask you one about a sadistic and crazy reader and that Geum Seong-je falls in love with her, a reader like Harley Quinn as an example, only that she is not going to depend on Geum, she is Sieun's sister, the sister is a year younger, let's say that the reader can have psychosis, see and hear things but it is not that serious according to her and take the pills and all that, but she is that crazy and she also becomes Baek Jin's right hand because she agreed to be in the union, obviously she fights VERY VERY well and likes to hit people and has the morbidity that Geum has of taking pictures once she finishes hitting people.

recommended song to listen to while reading

——> high enough - k.flay

not yours.

⤷ summary: You weren’t like your brother—too reckless, too brutal, too drawn to the wrong people. Sieun tried to warn you, but Seong-je’s pull was stronger. Tension, addiction, and denial blurred into something dangerous—you swore you weren’t his, but he took you like a picture.

⤷ contains: toxic romance · heated/sexual makeout · angst · psychosis (hallucinations/voices) · sibling dynamic + disapproval · obsessive undertones · violence · smoking · manipulation

⤷ pairing: seongje x crazy!reader

⤷ word count: 1.2k

⤷ tw: violence · blood · toxic relationship dynamics · unhealthy coping · mental health (psychosis, hallucinations) · manipulation · obsessive attraction · suggestive/sexual content · sibling estrangement ·

Rain slicked the streets, running down your jacket in cold lines. The smell of wet concrete and exhaust filled your nose. You pulled the jacket tighter around yourself, eyes scanning the alley beyond. Hallucinations flickered at the edges of your vision—faces leering, shadows twisting, whispers threading through your thoughts. Now. Hit harder. Faster. You grinned. They were not frightening. They were sharpening you.

Behind you, Sieun waited, silent. He didn’t shout, didn’t gesture. He simply watched, calculating. “Be careful tonight,” he said softly. Not commanding, not pleading—just a quiet warning. His presence alone grounded you, though you didn’t admit it. “I always am,” you replied, smirking.

He let the words go unchallenged, placing a hand lightly on your shoulder for a fraction of a second—a quiet anchor before you left. You stepped into the rain-drenched night, boots splashing puddles as the streets swallowed you.

The rival gang was waiting. Bold enough to test the Union. You didn’t hesitate. One lunged from the left; your elbow snapped into his jaw. Another knife came from the right. You twisted, swept, elbowed, kicked. Blood mixed with rain. The sting didn’t faze you—it exhilarated you

From the fire escape above, Sieun’s eyes tracked every motion. No words, just subtle cues that threaded through your consciousness: Shift left. Watch your back. Don’t overcommit. You adjusted mid-motion, instinctively.

Figures darted from shadows, faster this time. Hallucinations leapt from the corners of your mind: a laughing face behind a dumpster, a whisper urging another strike. You moved fluidly, precise and brutal. Bodies fell in puddles of blood and rain.

From the edge of the alley, Geum Seong-je appeared. Phone briefly raised, then forgotten. He watched you with a smirk, his gaze lingering over your bruised, soaked form. “Quite a mess you leave,” he said softly.

“Not yours,” you snapped, voice low, brushing blood from your cheek. you know damn well he’s flirting.

“Not… yet,” he teased, taking a few steps closer.

The final rival went down. You panted, chest heaving, adrenaline coursing through every vein. Geum crouched to take pictures of the beaten-up men, smirking. “I like it. You leave a mark everywhere.”

“I said I’m not yours,” you repeated, voice hard.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned in, hand brushing along your arm. The air thickened, heat radiating off both of you. You could feel the pull of him, dangerous and consuming

And then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was aggressive, raw, primal. No sweetness. No romantic pull. Pure need, pure hunger. His teeth grazed yours before claiming your bottom lip. Your hands tangled in his hair, yanking, pressing him flush against you. Rain dripped off your jacket, mingling with sweat, but you didn’t care. Every nerve in your body burned.

His hands roamed under your jacket, slipping along ribs and waist, pulling you closer, grinding against you in a way that left no space between bodies. You moaned low, breath hitching, letting him dominate the rhythm. Teeth tugged at lips, tongue tangled with yours, pressing, claiming. You gasped, fingers clawing at his jacket, trying to get leverage, trying to match his intensity.

Every brush of his hand, every bite, every shove of his tongue demanded your surrender, but you were already there, trembling, lost in the heat of it. Hallucinations—the shadows and whispers—melded into the background. Only him, only the fire racing through your veins, only the ache he ignited mattered.

He pulled your hair back, tilting your head, teeth brushing against your neck, spine tingling. You shivered, pressing into him, chest rising and falling. His hands roamed further, gripping, pressing, leaving bruises, leaving marks that would burn later. You pressed back, moaning into him, desperate, hungry.

The kiss ended only when breath left you ragged. He didn’t release you, not entirely. Lips brushed your temple, down your jaw, over your collarbone. “you drive me crazy” he murmured, voice rough, dominating.

You trembled against him, hot and wet, both from the fight and from the raw intensity of what had just happened. And yet, a cold ache gnawed at your chest—the absence of your brother.

Hours later, dripping, shaking, you returned home. The apartment was quiet. Hallucinations still whispered, shadows still danced, but now they were drowned out by the pounding of your heart. And then your eyes fell on it—a small note taped to your door.

“If you don’t come to your senses, I’m not talking to you. Learn to take care of yourself.”

Your stomach twisted violently. Sieun’s door was closed. Empty. He had left. Silent. Withdrawn. You sank to the floor, gripping the note, trembling. Tears ran freely now, hot and unrestrained. The weight of his absence hit harder than any punch, harder than any knife, harder than the fight or Geum’s fire in your mouth and hands.

Alone, you curled up, pressing your face to the floor. Hallucinations whispered, laughed, taunted, but now they were secondary to the hollow ache inside. You were chaotic, violent, untethered, yet broken. The anchor had left, and nothing—not Geum, not blood, not adrenaline—could fill that space.

Hours passed. Rain continued outside. You sat alone, trembling, silent. Geum’s fire still lingered in memory, but the emotional void remained. Chaos, psychosis, survival—yours. Anchor gone.

✧.*

a/n: tbh at first i was very confused at this request (i lowkey still am gng but all good) but i hope i could execute it the way u wanted ml. but i also did reduce the sadistic part a little because I wasn’t entirely comfortable writing it but I do really hope you can still enjoy reading!!

masterlist

[lilswooddd]

˗ˏˋgeneral ´ˎ˗

ᯓ masterlist

ᯓ other

ᯓ about me

[lilswooddd]

hii can i request gotak x artist!reader & they're also friends w baku, sieun & juntae? heavy on the fluff please & thank you!

reward

recommended song to listen to while reading

——> glue song - beabadoobee ft. clairo

⤷ summary: The five of you squeeze into the corner booth of your favorite tteokbokki spot, chaos and laughter swirling around you, but all you can focus on is Gotak leaning close, teasing you with the promise of a kiss as your “reward” for drawing him.

⤷ contains: fluff, group hangout, light teasing, playful romance

⤷ pairing: gotak x artist!reader

⤷ word count: 1.0k

The little tteokbokki shop was loud and cramped, but it was your favorite kind of loud. Steam curled against the windows, the whole place smelling like chili and fried batter. The five of you were jammed into the corner booth, bowls and chopsticks scattered across the table like a battlefield. It was messy, chaotic, but it felt like home.

Gotak sat right next to you, his thigh pressed against yours under the table like he couldn't stand leaving even an inch of space. Across from you, Baku was chewing loudly, shoving an entire fish cake into his mouth like he was in some kind of competition. Si-eun was next to him, calm as ever, eating at his own slow pace like nothing around him could ever rattle him. Jun-tae sat tucked into the corner, his hands neatly folded around his chopsticks, his soft smile flickering whenever he glanced up at the group.

Your sketchbook was balanced on your lap, pencil moving without much thought. It was habit now, the way you caught people on paper. The curve of Si-eun's brow, the way Jun-tae always ducked his head slightly when he laughed, the way Baku leaned forward like he was always ready to talk with his whole body. And, of course, Gotak, always shifting, always grinning, always stealing glances at your page like he was desperate to see himself through your eyes.

It was Baku who noticed first. He leaned over suddenly, his shadow falling across your page.

"Woah," he said with his mouth still full. "You draw like Mozart."

The pencil froze in your hand. You looked up slowly, blinking at him. Si-eun raised an eyebrow. Jun-tae's lips parted in the beginnings of a laugh, his shoulders trembling as he tried to hold it in.

Gotak whipped his head around so fast you nearly smudged your sketch. "You mean Picasso, idiot!" His voice was so loud people at the next table turned to look.

Baku scowled. "That's what I said."

"No, you said Mozart! That's music!" Gotak slapped the table for emphasis, his whole face twisted up in disbelief. "What the hell, man, do you think you play art like a piano?"

Jun-tae couldn't help it—he laughed, soft and breathy, covering his mouth with his hand. "Mozart... that's actually kind of funny."

"Funny?!" Gotak groaned, dragging his hands down his face like he was seconds from collapse. He turned toward you with that familiar grin, the kind that made your chest feel annoyingly warm.

"Don't listen to him, babe. Your art's great."

You raised your brows, pretending to stay focused on your page. "Great, huh? Then what's my reward for drawing you?"

That shut him up for half a second. Then his grin came back, slower this time, tugging at the corners of his mouth. He leaned in, resting his chin on your shoulder like it was his personal seat, his hand finding your knee under the table as if no one could see.

"Easy," he said, his voice dropping just enough to curl right into your chest.

"A kiss."

Your pencil stilled again, heart stuttering. The warmth of him was all around you, his breath brushing your cheek, his hand steady on your knee. You tilted your head, eyes narrowing. "...That's it?"

He smirked, teeth flashing. "One kiss per drawing. If it's good, maybe I'll give you two."

"Gross," Si-eun muttered, not even looking up from his food.

Jun-tae ducked his head, hiding his smile behind his sleeve.

Baku chewed loudly, shaking his head. "You two make me sick."

Gotak just grinned wider, reaching out to snatch the rice cake Baku tried to throw at him and popping it into his mouth like it was proof of victory. "Jealous," he said around the food, leaning back against the booth with his arm stretching behind you.

You bit back a smile, pretending to sketch like nothing happened, though your hand trembled just slightly. He must've noticed, because his thumb rubbed slow circles against your knee, grounding you.

later that day, he's walking you home

The neon lights flickered softly above, the air sharp and clean compared to the warm chaos inside. You hugged your sketchbook to your chest, feeling the faint press of Gotak's shoulder against yours.

He walked beside you, hands in his pockets, glancing sideways every few steps, a small playful grin tugging at his lips. "So..." he began, voice quiet, gentle, teasing all at once.

"Where's my reward?"

"You mean for modeling?"

"Yes. For sitting there looking like you had to draw me, and not complaining," he said softly, stepping a little closer.

You tilted your head, warmth rising. "..You were hardly still."

"That's exactly the point," he said, playful but low, brushing his hand against yours. "Still counts."

You sighed, cheeks heating, stepping closer to him. "You're impossible."

"And you love me anyway," he replied, eyes soft, grin tugging at the corners.

Before you could respond, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. Soft, warm, just enough to make your stomach flip and your fingers tighten around your sketchbook. When he pulled back, his hand found yours, lacing fingers naturally, firmly, like it had always been that way.

"Worth it," he murmured quietly.

You shook your head, smiling, cheeks flushed, but you didn't let go. Not then. Not ever.

✧.*

a/n: I really enjoyed writing this I lowkey live for fluff but I also hope you guys enjoy reading!!

masterlist

[lilswooddd]

masterlist

smut ✧ | fluff ❀ | suggestive 𖦹 | angst ༄ؘ|

.ᐟ weak hero class

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ Yeon Si-eun

❀ at peace

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ Ahn Su-ho

༄ silent storm

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ Oh Beom-seok

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ Park Hu-min

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ Go Hyun-tak

❀ reward

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ Seo Jun-tae

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ Geum Seong-je

𖦹 velvet sin.

༄ 𖦹 not yours

❀ ༄ؘ secretly bound

✧ mirror

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ Na Baek-jin

✧ wrecked

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ Kang Woo-young

❀ nestled

: ̗̀➛ other

❀ whc boys reaction to your past abuser

❀ how whc boys do the lipstick smudge trend

.ᐟ squid game

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ 230 / thanos

✧ inferno

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ 120 / hyun-ju

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ 124 / nam-gyu

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ 125 / min-su

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ 380 / se-mi

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ 388 / dae-ho

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ 067 / sae-byeok

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ 456 / gi-hun

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ 001 / in-ho

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ 333 / myung-gi

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ 222 / jun-hee

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ 199 / ali abdul

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ 218 / sang-woo

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ jun-ho

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ salesman / recruiter

-

: ̗̀➛ other

-

.ᐟ alice in borderland

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ arisu

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ karube

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ chota

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ usagi

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ chishiya

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ kuina

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ann

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ aguni

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ niragi

-

: ̗̀➛ other

-

.ᐟ true beauty

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ seo-jun

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ su-ho

-

: ̗̀➛ other

-

.ᐟ the last of us

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ joel miller

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ellie williams

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ abby anderson

-

: ̗̀➛ other

-

.ᐟ harry potter

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ harry potter

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ron weasley

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ hermoine granger

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ fred weasley

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ george weasley

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ cedric diggory

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ draco malfoy

-

: ̗̀➛ other

✧ higher than him - tom riddle

.ᐟ the vampire diaries

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ damon salvatore

-

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ stefan salvatore

-

: ̗̀➛ ׂother

-

.ᐟ other

-

a/n: this isn’t even near done but I just did it the best I could and I hope I’m able to fill out everything where nothing is written, if you have an idea feel free to write it in my reqs!