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llunapastell-reads · 6 months ago

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ᴄʜ. ᴏɴᴇ || ʀᴇᴅ ʟɪɴᴇ (ʜ.ʜᴊ) ──

"So, what do you have against New Year’s Eve?“ "It makes me reflect on the past, forces me to consider the future... I don’t have very pleasant thoughts about either."

𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘 :･ reposting this story to the sb so just roll with the new year's theme ok ...

✧.* 𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘 𝗩𝗜𝗘𝗪 𝗠𝗔𝗜𝗡 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 & 𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗥 𝗕𝗘𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚

I hate nights like this.

The sky appears cloudless and it’s softening into a dim shade of indigo, much like an evening after an intense thunderstorm has passed through. There is a stillness in the air and the lingering scent of rush hour traffic makes my stomach churn.

The sky was just as clear when I saw her for the last time. That stupid girl, whom I shared an apartment and bed with for almost two years. A home that we both deserted after I discovered the truth.

“Hello? Hyunjin, did you hear a single word I just said?” My best friend’s voice tears me from my brooding recollections.

“I’m sorry Felix, can you repeat that again?”

Much of our conversations are like this these days. I know I should try harder to push the dejected thoughts from my mind and be more present in reality, especially around the person who happily took me in when my relationship came to an abrupt end. But when the evening is veiled in this color, I can’t stop tormenting myself with all the details of the night I left her.

Felix sighs and mirrors my position against the railing of his balcony. He knows where my mind is and by the look in his eyes, I realize he’s decided to spare me the lecture. Felix has the patience of a Saint and I often feel unworthy of his devoted friendship. I have put him through a lot these past few months, and the least I can do is pay attention to what he’s asking me.

“Tonight is Chan and Changbin’s party and I promised them I’d be there a bit early. I was hoping you would come with me to the apartment to set up…” the blonde trails off.

“…And also, they didn’t hear from Kira. Not like we wanted her to come, anyways. What I mean is— she won’t be there tonight.”

I can only bear to smile at him meekly. I hate the sound of her name.

Choi Kira, they all used to fawn after her in the dorms. We had been friendly throughout our time in university, but I never gave her a second thought until the end of our junior year. My younger self would find me pathetic for sulking over someone who I once considered so vapid and boring.

“Of course I will help you. That's my duty as your best friend, isn’t it?” I flash a boxy grin towards my friend, but It doesn't seem he buys my forced smile. He understands how difficult it has become to be in social situations nowadays. People love to pry, they want to gossip about if the pretty picture of my life they painted in their minds resembles the one I am actually living. They will ask about their perfect Kira, and I will attempt to contort the truth into something less humiliating.

I am not sure how I can dilute discovering my girlfriend was cheating on me with our English professor into a more digestible story, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. They will believe whatever bullshit I sell them.

I mull over a list of excuses while we lock up and walk to Chan and Changbin’s shared apartment. Ever since we were freshmen in college, those two made it their mission to ring in the New Year in the most obnoxious way possible: a blowout out celebration with enough booze to poison every citizen in Seoul. Growing up together has cemented our friendship into a brotherhood, which is the only thing motivating me to leave the solace of my studio. And of course, the promise of not having to go clubbing with them for three weeks if I showed my face.

For them, my brothers, who have carried my pitiful existence without any trace of resentment through these last months of winter, I will attempt to resemble my old self. I've never found it difficult before to put on a show of friendliness and amusement, but recently, the mask wears heavy on my features. To be amongst a crowd, amongst my best friends, and still feel like I’m stuck in solitude— barely visible through the fog that is my own fucked up illusion of loneliness. They just can’t see it. They have never been where I am, and I hope that never changes. But that doesn’t stop my friends from reaching for me, doing the best they can to fish me out of it— even with blind hands. And for their endless attempts to liberate me, I am forever grateful.

Felix, Chan and I sling back a shot of whiskey with the promise of a fresh start in the new year. My lips curve up at them and their optimism. My arms hang over their shoulders, wishing the physical contact could transfer some of that imagined hopefulness into my own body.

If only I could will it into existence. If only that could keep the fog from thickening.

— ✧.*

Thank god the mindless babble has paused for a moment as everyone turns their attention to the direction of loud clatter. I relish in the sliver of peace the commotion brings, finally the bogus smile I’ve been forcing can falter. I feel a bit of gratitude towards the woman who has tripped over the carpet and taken a few plates down with her; she’s abetted my escape from another stale conversation with acquaintances I don’t care about.

“Wow, I didn’t expect to see her tonight...” Jeongin whispers next to me while we watch the woman collect herself from the scene she caused. I think I recognize her from Kim Hyemin’s Statistics course, but we never spoke. I only ever took notice of her taste in Literature because she always had her face buried in a book.

“I heard she got dumped by Seungmin’s old roommate at the beginning of the fall semester. No one really knows the details but apparently, it ended really ugly.” My younger friend continued, his concentration moving from the disheveled woman to the cocktail umbrella in his drink.

“How ugly?” I ask without taking my focus away from her.

“Like, took time off of school because she went ‘away...’ isn’t gonna graduate on time, that kind of ugly.”

My heart twitches at his words, her shallow gaze is very familiar to me. The glassiness of her darkened eyes hints that her mind often spends time in a faraway place, maybe because reality is too harsh to engage in. Felix always points out his ability to tell my thoughts are reeling just by the look on my face. I study her appearance and understand what my friend must see in me.

“S’okay bout the dishes, babes— just come ‘ere and meet my brothers!” Changbin lunges his arm around my shoulder with a little too much vigor. I can smell the whiskey and coke on his breath and I can’t help but roll my eyes at his drunken enthusiasm. His glazed stare is fixated on the bleach blonde attached to the stumbling woman’s arm— must be this week’s fuck buddy, telling by the way she returns his fervent gawk. As the two girls approach us, I can’t find the will to shift my attention away from the person the blonde is dragging behind her. Her tousled fringe accentuates the hollowness behind her eyes and it makes my lungs constrict. It feels as if I’m staring into a mirror, I see so much of my own reflection in her exhausted demeanor. That sullen expression is like an open book, one I have come to memorize not by choice but infliction.

The light graze of Jeongin’s fingers on my wrist pulls me from my own reeling. “Earth to Hyunjin— this is Ryu and Y/N, old classmates from university. We were all in the same dormitory, y’know with Seungmin and Jeno…” the younger boy’s words trail off as Y/N pierces him with a quick glare, her petite frame stiffening at the sound of her ex lover’s name.

Changbin cuts the thick atmosphere with a sway and stumble while I attempt to hold his larger body upright. “S’glad you both could make it! It’s almost midnight and I made Chan save us the best seats to watch the fireworks,” he snickers. Jeongin and Ryu escort our tipsy host to the terrace with myself and Y/N lingering behind them.

“Do you drink?” I ask apprehensively. She pauses her stride and examines me before exhaling a deep sigh.

“Tonight I do,”

Glinting fluorescent lights of blue and pink guide us to the abandoned kitchen of the apartment. I make us a stiff drink and watch as she gulps it down with earnestness. “You look like you’re having as much fun as I am being here,” I tease.

A dry chuckle escapes through her full lips. “Am I that easy to read?”

More than you realize. I can’t stop the smile from forming; our masks won’t work in here, this brief bubble of solidarity, of knowing without saying. A pleasant silence hangs in the air for a moment— until our attention is drawn to the boisterous chatter that begins to approach us. We both suck in a sharp breath.

“Back to reality?” She smiles up at me for the first time tonight. I drink in her features and usher us into the real world again.

— ✧.*

“10…. 9…. 8…. 7….”

The entire terrace harmonizes like a choir as we countdown the last seconds of the year in unison. Felix and Chan grip the railing of the building with anticipation in front of me, while Changbin tightens his hold on the small waist pressed against his body. I grimace, shifting myself closer to Jeongin and Y/N to avoid witnessing the sloppy kiss that will take place in moments’ time. The packed space erupts in jubilation then, with ecstatic cheers and applause dulled momentarily by colorful explosions in the sky before us.

I’m not sure what possesses me in that moment, but when I turn to her, my body reacts against my will. Maybe it was the way the vibrant colors of fireworks glistened against the tears streaming down her face; or how her widened eyes bore into mine and didn’t dare look away once the connection was made. My hand intrinsically grasps her smaller digits, and when she doesn’t cringe or pull away, I lead us from the terrace and out the front doors without looking back.

We’re half way down the building steps when her hand tugs at mine sheepishly. “Hy-Hyunjin, please slow down,” Y/N’s feeble voice hardly echoes in the concrete stairway.

The entire time we’ve been moving, I have been suspended in a daze; I cannot make sense of the gnawing in my chest cavity as her tear stained cheeks flashes through my mind. She stands at my eye level from the step above me, slender fingers still laced in my own, a tremble just barely detectable.

I watch her expression turn tearful and my limbs move on their own again— cupping her face with my free hand, I beg “please, no more tears. Not right now.” I don’t hesitate to wipe the wetness from her eye, and she leans into my touch, gently nodding her head in silent agreement.

Our pursuit continues until we reach a familiar establishment a couple blocks away from the apartment: a shabby, 24-hour diner that has been a habitual stop after late night escapades with the guys. A flushed shade of pink has bloomed under Y/N’s skin and I’m unsure if it’s a result of the winter air’s caress, or embarrassment from the smirk I can’t contain while watching her shove bites of pancakes into her mouth.

She takes a noticeable gulp and clears her throat. “What are we… doing here?” She questions from across the booth against the window.

I stare blankly at her. I try my best to keep a neutral tone so she can’t pick up on my own befuddled thoughts around the same question. “It just seemed like you needed to get out of there. And for some reason, I wanted to go with you.”

There was truth to that at least. How insane is it for strangers to share one knowing look and allow that to embolden them to run away, hand in hand? Y/N squints out the frosted window, considering my words. Her eyes flash back to mine and hold my gaze for a long moment before sighing out a ‘thank you’ between parted lips.

“What do you have against New Year’s Eve?” I probe before taking a sip of coffee.

She must find my question amusing because the corners of her mouth creep upwards into a crooked smile. With some hesitation, she answers “I don’t know— I guess, this holiday makes me reflect on the past, forces me to consider the future. I don’t have very pleasant thoughts about either.” Her eyes flutter closed in reflection. “I have had some… tough times, to say the least, this year. I thought by now I would feel different. Feel better.” She scoffs at her own words.

I turn her admission over in my mind before responding. What she has shared resonates deep within me. Leaning my head against the chilled glass, I add “It’s quite funny, the fashion in which we celebrate the new year. The signifying of a ‘new’ chapter— a clean slate. As if the change of the date could really alter our lives when the clock hits midnight. It’s just another day, you will feel the same as you did the night before. For some of us, that’s not much of a reason to celebrate.”

I swallow thickly at how cynical I sound aloud, like a scorned victim who wants everyone to drown along with him. My transparency makes me feel pitiful, yet Y/N does not seem taken aback by the crudeness of my words. There is only silence exchanged between us, but her empathetic expression conveys all I need to know. I exhale my relief.

But I am flustered for a different reason all together now— she pulled that unfiltered confession straight out of me with just a stare; the inkling of her smile and the fluttering of thick, dark lashes was all she needed to disarm me.

“But doesn’t a little piece of you wish to feel differently?” The inward battle she endures is painted all over her features— exhausted by the affliction of the universe, but still so unyielding for her heart to become callous. She’s courageous, a lot tougher than I have ever been; I stomped out that flicker of faith as harshly as I could in the beginning of my grief. What was the point of looking for goodness in the world when I couldn’t have it, when it couldn’t reach me? When everything I tasted didn’t take the bitterness away.

“I want the idea of a new day to fill me with optimism— but my logic won’t quite allow that, like my mind is fighting against my heart,” Hiding the blush behind her hands, she can’t hold back how comical she finds her own embarrassment. “God, is that childish? Why does it feel stupid to still want to hope?”

It pangs again, my heart remembers all too well the feelings she is conjuring in me. I try to defuse this internal intrusion by laughing too, the toothy grin reaching my eyes. “In this world, It’s admirable and maybe even a lil’ foolish— because the mind and heart can hardly ever cooperate.” Y/N raises her glass to my eye level and we cheers to that: to our feeble brains and the forlorn heart, fickle fuckers they are.

The mood shifts unexpectedly afterwards, her light expression softening into something timid— something vulnerable. Nimble fingers fidget with the corner of her napkin as her low tone just barely registers from across the table, “I don’t know how you knew what I needed before I did, but thank you, Hyunjin– this means a lot to me... Do you think we were friends in a past life?”

I can make out a semblance of my own smile reflected in the dark liquid of my coffee mug as I peer down into its blackness. I won’t allow myself to spiral now, I refuse to process how alarming it is for a stranger to move me as deeply as she has, so I deflect, “Maybe, cus I knew you were cool– that's why I brought you to where all the brooding kids like us come to hang out.”

Y/N’s bright laughter rings distinctly amongst the commotion of the restaurant, her eyes creasing into crescent moons while she beams, “We are kindred spirits, you and I.”

And then it’s all too soon that the liquid in our cups turns cold; the night lulls to a hum as it settles around us and we reluctantly prepare to brave the elements outside the solace of the diner.

— ✧.*

My lips are practically frozen when we reach Y/N’s apartment complex. Seoul’s frigid wind stings my face as we push against its force, but I unclasp the top buttons of my coat anyways, fully welcoming the numbness— anything to distract from the shorter frame beside me, the way my fingers itch to seek comfortable warmth in the hand that brushes against my own while we walk. An unintentional gesture that is stirring a foreign kind of frenzy within me, and Y/N seems to sense my discomfort.

“Hyunjin, can I ask you a question?” She doesn’t meet my gaze when she speaks and a piece of me is glad for that. “Do you believe… only time can heal all?”

Her question stifled my thoughts for a minute. The answer doesn’t take too long to come to me, and I hope my candidness doesn’t deepen her hardship. “I think time is a small part of it. It alleviates— as do many other things. Perhaps healing is a combination of time passing, distraction, enduring; just trying your best to fill yourself up with anything at all until you feel full, or whole, again.”

The fluorescent street light illuminates her pensive look, and I trace faded constellations of freckles adorning the rosy cheeks in front of me. Her rigid stance reduces to something more placid under my stare. How small she must feel standing against my taller stature. The corner of her lip remains tucked under her teeth until I force myself to connect with her fixed gaze again.

“What do you do then, to fill yourself up?” Y/N smiles up at me hollowly. She is a person made of contradictions, it seems; what a lovely, twinkling sound her voice makes, it does not match the spiritless words that spill from plush lips.

I run my fingers through my dark hair and move my focus to the black sky above us as I speak, “I compose and listen to music; drink a little too much some days and write poetry. I paint. I sketch— I fuck.” I catch the hitch in her breathing and chuckle at her embarrassment. Her body takes a brave step forward, curious eyes searching for something within my own.

“And does that work? Are you healing?”

I wish I could lie and give the answer Y/N wants to hear. The truth of the matter is, I have seen myself take great strides forward toward happier days— and then one random morning, I might not have the will to even crawl out of bed. More than just my heart was broken by my breakup; my ego, my confidence, my ability to trust have all been marred. She is owed some honesty, so I pick out the most important notes to share from my experience.

“Honestly, I don’t think healing is linear. I have some truly good days, and some bad ones. I will admit there is slow progress— but god am I impatient,” I laugh and pray she can’t hear how I ache, “and god, does the loneliness tear me up sometimes.”

I sense my statement causes her no distress because Y/N simply purses her lips and nods like I had just confirmed her hypothesis. We stand in the cold, with the weight of this burden of truth on our shoulders. I’m taken by surprise when a melodic giggle disturbs the bit of silence.

“Being around you made me feel so light for the first time in what seems like forever,” my pulse quickens and she offers me no opportunity to interject. “Thank you, Hyunjin. It’s been awhile since I’ve hung out with someone and didn’t feel… alone, if that makes sense.” She peers up at me through her lashes, gauging my expression.

“On those days you feel lonely, I want to do the same for you as you did for me tonight.” Her eyes darted from mine, bashful at her own unexpected tenderness. When she attempts to escape through the double doors of the building, I catch her wrist and pull her back to me, my shallow breath tickling the back of her hair.

She has done more than she will ever know, and more than I’m brave enough to admit.

“Can I say one last thing?” My pitch heightens and I don’t care if she can hear the excitement in my voice, all my senses are buzzing being close to her like this. As she turns to face me, I see I’m not the only one enchanted.

This girl must possess the ability to read my mind because before the idea of kissing her can completely overwhelm me, delicate fingertips graze my jawline and ground me to reality once more. I didn’t have a single clue as to what I wanted to say before she slipped away, but that doesn’t matter in this moment any longer– there is nothing we have to speak into existence as her lips ghost over mine, silently seeking permission to succumb to our inexplicit desire.

Kissing a stranger shouldn’t feel like this. It shouldn’t make all my reason null and void, or engulf me in a soothing reverie that I embrace when I take her lips in mine more fervently. This feeling shouldn’t transcend gratification and fill me with more, but as she cradles my face with a gentle grasp and my arm wraps around her neck to bring our bodies closer, I’m somehow convinced this is right— that it is as it should always be with Y/N.

Her fingers tangle themselves in my hair and I let myself bloom under the intoxicating warmth of her touch. I smirk against her when her lips part, allowing me entrance to deepen the kiss. She tastes like mocha and desperation, the flavors becoming even sweeter while I push her into the brick pillar of the building, failing to restrain the need to have her pressed against me. My movements are more raw than I intend, but I can tell she is quite pleased with my undoing, based on how her thumbs smooth loving circles into my skin.

A delicious tickle makes me hum, imagining the image of her frame caged between my own and the cool facade— how lost in this moment we must appear. Y/N returns my intensity and claws at my collar, as if our forms could possibly meld together with just a little more fervor. Her body arches, chasing my caress down her side and I can’t suppress the groan that slips into her mouth when I feel her shiver against my body. A blistering kind of heat builds in my stomach, listening to the soft, wet sounds our lips make while we struggle for dominance. Who craves who more, It's impossible to say.

I think this moment will be burned into me, I have never felt pleasure so tangible and potent. I’ll remember with clarity how the huffs of white smoke blurred my vision when we reluctantly disconnected, gasping for air, under the harsh gleam of lampposts. Y/N giggles in between quick inhales and tries to cool her reddened cheeks with the palm of her hand. “Did you want to say you needed to come upstairs?”

My chuckle comes out breathy and ragged, “yeah, I feel kinda dizzy— I should maybe lie down for a while.”

The corner of her eyes crinkle when she smiles and my chest swells with adoration. I want to savor the way her smaller hand molds into mine as we hurry through the brick archway together. A sensation I long locked away washes over me then; I can’t pinpoint it exactly, but it feels a lot like resolution— a wishful promise this night is just the beginning.

The idea of tomorrow shines a bit brighter in the back of my mind.

#stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz scenarios #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin angst #hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyujin imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x y/n #hwang hyunjin #Hyunjin

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llunapastell-reads · 7 months ago

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HELLO STRANGER. SIXTEEN.

PAIRING: minho ft. hyunjin x fem!reader GENRE: smut, angst, fluff, soulmate!au. enemies to lovers. jealousy. pining. unrequited love. CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 4k

masterlist ♡ part one

do not repost to other sites, including translations.

MINHO POV

What I thought was an adrenaline crash, takes a twisted, seemingly inverted path. Each day, I wake a little more panicked, even as I watch her take steps further and further from the broken version of her I’d found in a hole in the ground.

As she heals, I fall apart.

Keep reading

#to read #lfg !!#thank u op for all your time and hard work 🫶

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llunapastell-reads · 7 months ago

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Freak Show Talk | 3racha, lmh

𝙡𝙭𝙭𝙞𝙞. 𝙞 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙨

! fwb, free use ft. all, fujoshi fem reader, poly, enm, angst, smut, dead dove do not eat. <1k wc. 18+ readers only !

「Contents List」「Act 1」「© November 2024 by jl-micasea-fics」

Out on the street and several paces ahead, Jisung is a man driven by something. All the caffeine, you presume.

He glances over his shoulder, catches your eye and ducks around a narrow, branching alley.

“What the hell is he doing...?”

You jog to keep up and round into the alley; there’s a mesh metal gate closing it off. Jisung stands behind it, mischief lighting his eyes. “Come on!”

“Jisung, you shouldn’t be back there!”

He reaches around the gate, pulls you through it, hand warm around your wrist. He checks the street, and void of passersby or anyone with reason to scold you for your trespassing, he pulls you in deeper, to a nook stacked high with cardboard boxes and discarded packaging.

“What are we even doing here, this is—”

He crowds you against the closest brick wall, concealed in shadow. Your heart springs to your throat, the iridescence of his eyes so unfamiliar— heavy and wanting, he searches your burning face, cups your cheeks.

“This is your fault,” he whispers.

He gingerly captures your lips: can hardly comprehend it until he pulls back, breath slow and warm, tinctured strawberry. It’s too quick. So soft. Seconds pass where the gravity of what he’s done sinks in, and finding nothing other than a well of creamy anticipation, you find purchase in his collar to drag him close, to feel the press of his chest and the cold stone at your back. Jisung grins lazily, nose nudging yours.

“That was so hot of you,” he mutters, voice silken treacle.

You blink at him, dumb.

“Standing up for me. Protecting me.”

“I... I just did the right thing.”

“You’d be amazed how many people are too chicken shit to do that.”

His heavy lids slide closed; still unconvinced that this isn’t a wonderfully realistic hallucination, you refuse to do the same. He kisses you again. Plush and warm, he explores the shape of your lips, hands releasing your cheeks to curve around your waist. What is first so tentative soon devolves; arms around his neck you indulge in the smoothness of his skin, hands wandering from his nape into his hair. You drag his beanie off, his hair lush between your fingers. His listless groan sets something to swell in your belly, arousal thickening when he nips your bottom lip and tugs for the flesh to spring back. He huffs a wanton breath, maps the indents of his teeth with his tongue. Presses against your thigh, the rigidity of his groin so thick and long.

Fuck. The little black box dusts itself off, comes out of hiding.

His right hand drops to your thigh, fingers skimming the hem of your skirt to lift it gently. Your skin zings where his fingertips linger, a gathering of heat in your lower belly such that you haven’t felt since beginning your therapy. It makes your head light and your hands tremble; when he touches where you ache, a featherlight pressure over your underwear, you gasp as though drowning.

“Jisung—”

He hums, nudges your jaw, nuzzles the sensitive skin of your throat. Every sense is attuned to him, exacerbated by the tenebrous alley. There’s nothing to take away from this. Nothing but the trill of your senses that, despite every instinct crying at you, urge you to do the right thing. It would be easy to fall into him. Easy to let old habits dictate your next choice. He wants you, and there’s nothing so empowering as the feeling of being desired. If only it didn’t wear off so quickly.

The little black box wails with despair as you press gentle hands to his (surprisingly) broad chest, firm enough to indicate needing a moment. Jisung withdraws but stays close, nose and cheeks glowing with want.

“We shouldn’t.”

He hangs his head. “I know.”

The pulse of his heartbeat is strong under your palm, rabbiting intently.

“I want to.”

He huffs a gentle laugh, gaze flicking up. “I know.”

“It’s just—”

“I get it. There’s too much right now.” He straightens up, kisses you once more softly, steps away. Sweeps a hand through his hair and pulls his beanie back on. “Let me walk you back?”

You pull your skirt down with a shiver. “Won’t the others be missing you? You’re supposed to be recording.”

He shrugs. “I’m already late.”

He holds his hand out expectantly. You take it when he urges, fingers slotting together, and so it is that J One takes you home, his jacket pulled close and collar risen, head ducked when passing groups of girls that look to be in the right age bracket for recognising him. If only they knew what their beloved rapper had just been up to. If only they knew what he usually got up to.

At your apartment lobby, he kisses the back of your hand.

“Call me.”

You promise you will.

“No regrets, right?” he asks before he leaves. The little black box pouts, and this time, you almost feel sorry for it. This is for the best. It is.

“Never.”

𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 >

𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙? 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚 ♡ >

< 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 | 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 >

#jisung you perfect boy #this was a fun lil surprise when I opened the app today #hehehe thank you op!#your writing is superb #lluna.p.rec

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llunapastell-reads · 8 months ago

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HELLO STRANGER. THIRTEEN.

PAIRING: minho ft. hyunjin x fem!reader GENRE: smut, angst, fluff, soulmate!au. enemies to lovers. jealousy. pining. unrequited love. CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 4k

masterlist ♡ part one | part fourteen

do not repost to other sites, including translations.

“Lonely?” you question.

“What? Don't believe me?”

“I'm just – I didn't think you were capable.”

“Of loneliness?” he asks, clearly amused.

“Of admitting to it,” you amend.

He turns onto his side, holding his head up with one hand — his elbow pressing into the camping mattress. “Interesting,” he says.

“What?”

He looks down at you in a way that pierces the darkness.

You resist looking away.

Keep reading

#lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #to read #I’m so terrified and exhilarated to know I have this waiting for me later

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llunapastell-reads · 8 months ago

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ꕀ LUST FOR LIFE ꕀ an ateez series

↳ sex money feelings die remastered .ᐟ cross posted on ao3

“ they say only the good die young, that just ain't right 'cause we're having too much fun, too much fun tonight ”

↳ synopsis: a group of individuals find that their first taste of freedom in the world brings more obstacles than expected. some of them, find solace by drowning in liquor or in the backseat of somebody else’s car. a lot of them have got to get their shit together. a lot of them won't.

mdni » story contains nsfw content intended for 18+ audiences pairings » member specific, not listed for spoiler purposes ↳󠁪󠁪 ateez x ateez , ateez x female reader ↳ genre » coming of age ↳ word count » 11k┆ongoing ↳ general warnings » substance abuse & consumption, sexual content, morally grey characters, unreliable narrators, internalised homophobia, angst, basically every struggle young adolescence can go through, references of a character's parent passing is included (specific warnings that may be particularly uncomfortable for readers will be found in each chapter in this section)

PROLOGUE » jung wooyoung x f!reader 00⌇be the air i breathe┆ 1.7k

ACT I » THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY 01 ⌇even if just for a little bit┆2.7k 02⌇relationships, fuck buddies, heartbreaks┆3.4k 03⌇the absolute fucking irony┆3.3k 04⌇memories of summer bring you┆2.1k 05⌇coming soon┆

ACT II » TO BE CONTINUED

#ateez fic #ateez x reader #to read later

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llunapastell-reads · 8 months ago

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HELLO STRANGER. TWELVE.

PAIRING: minho ft. hyunjin x fem!reader GENRE: smut, angst, fluff, soulmate!au. enemies to lovers. jealousy. pining. unrequited love. CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 4k

masterlist ♡ part one | part thirteen

do not repost to other sites, including translations.

Hyunjin is anything but subtle the rest of the day. He makes eyes at you like he’s asking a question—a vital question. You’re used to the feel of his eyes on you by the time you zip up the tent and crawl into bed beside him for the night.

It bursts of him the moment your head hits the pillow, “What happened?”

You can't help laughing.

He doesn't share your humour.

He looks rather worried, actually.

“We didn't fight,” you reassure him quickly. “It was - it was the opposite, really.”

“The opposite?” He sits up, eager.

Keep reading

#lee know x reader #to read #eeeeeepppp

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llunapastell-reads · 8 months ago

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stay (forever, if you’d like) — lee know x reader ; the six times he asks you to stay (2.3k words)

happy bday lee know, you are my light

one.

There’s this thing about Minho—in the way his eyebrows are furrowed, eyes sharp, and lips always in a tight line. It’s why they call him cold, unapproachable. The same people that have intrigue and intimidation written on their faces when they lay eyes on the boy.

They just don’t know him.

His eyes are a lot softer than they describe. They’re wide, wonder-like, and they shine with something you can’t quite identify, but there. Present. There is so much you can decipher with a single look—mischief, pain, sincerity, love.

Those same eyes are looking at you right now. Almost pleading, but painfully trying not to look obvious.

“It’s getting dark outside.” He acts as if he isn’t the reason you’re still at his dorm.

Attempts at leaving, all in vain, flash before your eyes. You have to admit, your best friend is nothing but convincing, and a little manipulative in how he keeps you captive until there is reason for you to stay. “You should stay.”

You can hear the kettle whistling from a distance. It’s water for tea with measurements for two, like he knew you wouldn’t leave.

“Min.” You let out a breathy laugh. He’s almost detached himself from the couch he’d sprawled himself on earlier, inching closer and closer and closer until he gets the answer that he wants.

It’s obviously for your safety, it’s dangerous walking along at night. You would be stupid not to stay. That’s what he tells himself, but there is a feeling in his stomach telling him there’s more to it. He really really doesn’t want to think about it right now.

“Fine,” you sigh.

“Good decision. It seems that you value your life after all,” he says. There’s a hint of a smile playing on his lips that he doesn’t quite show. You can always tell, though. It’s usually when he gets something he wants.

“But I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”

(You won’t.)

two.

seungmin (2:03am): pls pick minho up. drunk

You have to look at Seungmin’s message twice before it properly registers.

You remember Minho telling you he wouldn’t be drinking tonight, but it seems there’s been slight changes to his plans. You wonder if Jisung’s peer pressure finally worked on him tonight.

yn (2:05am): omw

Your dorm is only a few minutes away from where they’re drinking, and your best friend had asked you to come with him earlier, but you’d decided against it. You weren’t in the mood for the stench of alcohol in your nasal cavity.

Though, with your sudden task of picking the boy up, it seems unavoidable now.

It isn’t difficult to spot him. The moment you’re merely a block away, you find Minho just outside with a sleeping Felix on his shoulder. Their backs are slouched, and his eyes look like they’re fighting not to close.

“(Name)!” Seungmin calls out for you first, and it’s hard to miss Minho’s head pointed directly in your direction the moment your name slips out of his friend’s mouth, like he’s been looking there this whole time.

“It was fun to have blackmail material at first, but now I’m just tired.” The younger boy sighs.

You laugh, and something bitter bubbles in the sitting boy’s stomach. He lets himself sit on the feeling for quite a while. Jealousy is an ugly monster, but he doesn’t know that yet. “Please take care of him.”

When you crouch in front of Minho, the scowl on his face softens.

“You’re here.” He mumbles, exhaustion dripping from his voice. He reaches out to you, and Seungmin mutters something you don’t quite hear.

“Did you have fun?”

“Mmm,” he hums. He’s really drunk. And by his curtained eyes and his lack of dignity, you can tell he’s a goner. And so is the sleeping boy next to him.

You look around to see if there’s a convenience store nearby. Water would be a good buffer to the eventual hangover that’s waiting for them in the morning.

“‘M just gonna buy some wat—”

“Stay.” He interrupts you, just loud enough that you get a whiff of the whiskey he’d been drinking.

“You’ll feel better if you drink water.” Your eyes flicker to the convenience store for a moment before refocusing on your best friend.

A visible frown crosses his features, and his skin is flushed out from drinking. “You just arrived. Stay, please?” The way he begs entices you, because it’s not often that your best friend pleads.

“You’re saying please? You must be really drunk.” You laugh before falling to sit next to him in resignation. There is no arguing with him, not when he’s gripping the bottom of your shirt and tugging for you to stay with him for a moment.

Then there’s a sudden weight on your shoulder. He mirrors the way Felix is laying on him.

Five minutes pass.

“Wanna nap.” He mumbles. Minho feels so much like a child like this.

“You can sleep at my dorm tonight.”

“You’ll stay with me there?” He asks, almost innocent. He lifts his head from your shoulder momentarily and looks at you—eyes hazy and hair fucked out from the harsh winds of the early morning. And yet, he still looked pretty. Even at 2 in the morning.

“Mhm, but we have to go now.” Minho groans when your warmth suddenly leaves him, but he doesn’t have time to dwell when your hand meets his vision, outstretched for him to hold.

Seungmin whisks Felix awake.

“Okay.” He grabs your hand with a tired grip, and your bones rattle at how he intertwines your fingers. As if he’s always held your hand that way. And he keeps it that way until you arrive just ten minutes after.

Minho crashes on your couch before you can even hand him a glass of water.

three.

“Stay.” Stone cold sternness.

Minho doesn’t boss you around, at least, never seriously. He knows you hate being told what to do, but there is something about the circumstances right now, something in the fear of your voice, that has him using imperatives.

“Just—” He cuts himself off, trying to keep himself calm.

Even through a phone call, you know what face he’s pulling. That scowl, lips shut, eyes angry. “Stay with Chan. I’m on my way.”

“I don’t know why he’s here.” Fear drips from your voice far too easily and your painstricken words make it difficult for the boy not to speed. Your ex-boyfriend has always tried keeping contact with you despite your obvious distaste. He makes you uncomfortable, and he has aggression tendencies.

The thought of him makes Minho step on his accelerator. He’s thankful Chan is with you. Had he not, Minho would’ve been in deep trouble with the law enforcement.

“You’re with Chan, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Good.”

When he arrives, he asks his friend to lead you to his car.

Minho is really angry, and the sight of your ex-boyfriend kicks things up a higher notch. You don’t know what he’s about to do, but he’s scary when he’s upset. Chan tries to take your attention away, but the dynamic in Minho’s voice is too loud. It’s the one he doesn’t like to use on anyone he cares about.

“You’re lucky we’re in public. If you so much as look at my best friend, I’m going to kill you.” There is no remorse when he speaks, and his fists are balled up tight. He’s trying his best not to use them. “Fuck you.”

He returns to you and Chan no longer than five minutes, but definitely long enough to scare off your ex-boyfriend. Chan hands him his car keys, and Minho says nothing the entire ride home. His anger is still evident, almost seething off of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks long after Chan is gone, and it’s only the two of you just outside your dorm. The night air is crisp, cold in contrast to the overwhelming heat he’d felt earlier. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I didn—”

Minho shuts his mouth when you suddenly wrap your arms around him. “Thank you.”

The rage melts from his face, features softening. He brings his own arms around you.

He stays the night at your dorm.

four.

They’re so pretty!”

Your face stands out in the sea of spring’s flowers. You’re unaware of the way he’s looking at you, eyes shifting in excitement.

“I hope the bees sting you.” You roll your eyes at him, dropping your vision to continue admiring the fields of flowers. They’ve bloomed so beautifully.

Minho disappears for a moment, but you don’t worry too much. He was probably looking for the nearest bench. You’d dragged him out after all. He hasn’t changed at all since you’d gotten together. He was still stubborn, and yet sickeningly sweet when he wanted to.

Your boyfriend comes back with his hands behind his back, and it has you squinting at him. What could he be up to this time?

He’s suddenly standing impossibly close to you, and you almost lose the rhythm of your breathing with how close he is. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this. “Stay still.”

His hand reaches out towards you, fingers pushing a few strands of your hair away. A quiet heartbeat later, he pulls back, and the only difference you feel is something pinched just behind your ear. You wonder if it’s what you think it is.

(It is. An unassuming flower decorates the side of your face.)

Minho’s heart softens at the sight. “Pretty.”

The sight of you brings spring’s flowers to shame, he thinks.

five.

Arguing has always been something that wasn’t easy for the both of you, especially Minho. He hated fighting, but sometimes, it couldn’t be helped.

It’s how you found yourselves with puffy eyes and red noses. You barely remember what you were arguing about in the first place, but you have an overwhelming urge to leave. You think it’s so the fight doesn’t escalate, and because you don’t like that look on his face.

You say nothing when you move to open the door.

“What are you doing?” He sighs. He’s hesitant if he should step forward or not.

“I’m leaving.”

“You can’t.”

“I can, and I will.” You sniffle, a hand coming up to wipe your stubborn tears before planting on the doorknob of your shared apartment. “I hate it when we fight.”

“You don’t think I hate it too?” He frowns, hand hovering over yours. “But leaving isn’t the right option right now. Just stay, and we’ll talk about it more in the morning. I know you’re tired, but please. Stay.”

You cry even more into his chest, but he couldn’t be less bothered at the snot that’s staining his shirt. He brings you closer by your waist, hand patting down on your hair to quietly try and soothe you. He regrets letting the argument escalate this far. “I’m sorry.”

“‘M sorry for ruining your shirt.” You pull away, eyes trained on the big wet stain decorating the shirt he’s wearing.

“It’ll dry by tomorrow morning.” He reassures you, swaying the both of you gently. “Please don’t ever think about leaving.”

There’s something about the pain in his eyes that has your heart breaking further, and the way he bends down to cup your cheeks softly in his hands. He doesn’t reek of frustration anymore.

“Wasn’t gonna.” You mutter.

“You scared me for a second.” He shakes your head in his palms slowly before pressing a wet kiss on your lips. Your face is warm from crying. “Just… stay.”

(Forever, if you can. If you’d like.)

six.

You wake up to find him already looking at you, though he’s barely awake himself.

A greeting sits on his tongue, of your third anniversary, but he swallows it down for a moment. “Did you sleep well?” He asks instead, voice a little husky from the morning air.

“Hmmm.” You yawn, feeling something tickle just behind you. You know it’s one of the cats. They’ve grown into the habit of joining you and Minho in bed lately.

He smiles at you softly, arms reaching out to tug you back against his warm, very shirtless chest. And while you’d hate to ruin the quiet of the morning, you know you have to leave in a bit. You’d promised to run a quick errand.

“Baby, have to go.” You giggle when his grip only tightens around you. It’s never easy peeling yourself out of bed with Minho.

“How mean, already trying to leave me on our anniversary.” You know he’s pouting by the way he talks to you. You can only laugh—breathy and genuinely happy.

“I’ll be quick.” You whisper, and you hear a quiet ‘meow’ from your left.

“The babies would hate to see you go.” He whines.

“How classy of you to use them against me.” He smirks quite proudly, limbs still heavy over you. He refuses to let you go, not when your skin on his is a reminder of the things that had happened the night before, not when it feels this comfortable.

The sun continues to seep through the blinds to join the both of you, a taunting reminder that you really had to leave. You try to tug your arm free, but his fingers dig deeper into your skin.

“I’ll be right back.” You try to convince him, but all he does is plant a kiss on your neck before burying his face back into the scent of your hair. You know there’s no talking this out with Minho.

“Stay.” You can’t help the way your heart swells at a single word. “You won’t regret it.”

You have a feeling there’s a different connotation to his words. You think you know what.

“Fine.” You know there was never a chance that he’d let you go, even if you tried to wriggle yourself out.

He smiles. “Just wanna stay like this a little bit longer.”

Minho meets your lips like it’s the perfect time to do so. It is, always. He kisses you sweetly, gently, like there wasn’t anything else to do. He doesn’t make a move even when his phone rings somewhere in the room.

And you’ll stay. And stay, and stay, and stay.

Forever.

You think you’d like that.

#skz x reader #lee know x reader #stray kids fluff #what a sweet lil read 🥰#I love this concept for a story! so fun #the way you write minho is so endearing ❤️#lluna.p.rec

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llunapastell-reads · 8 months ago

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HELLO STRANGER. TEN.

PAIRING: minho ft. hyunjin x fem!reader GENRE: smut, angst, fluff, soulmate!au. enemies to lovers. jealousy. pining. unrequited love. CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 5k

masterlist ♡ pt.1 | pt.11

do not repost to other sites, including translations.

It’s only the shrieking call of nearby raven that snaps you from your dumb stupor. Your jaw snaps shut. You blink at the man standing in front of you with a stupid, smug smirk on his lips.

He was attempting to get a reaction from you, clearly. He was fucking with you. Obviously.

You cross your arms across your chest. “Don’t be stupid.”

Suho says nothing. Instead he tips his head back to bask in the sun's rays, that little smile making itself at home on his lips. The lack of response is irritating, more than it probably should be.

“He didn’t do this,” you add, attempting to prompt a response. A response would free you from contemplating the possibility that he was right. Take it back! You want to yell in his face.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Wanna bet?” He adds with a lazy cadence that can really only indicate his complete and utter confidence that he’s right; that you're wrong.

“Sure,” you answer stubbornly, slightly panicked now.

He drops his chin, letting his eyes fall back on you. “Really?”

“I want Hyunjin.”

Keep reading

#lee know x reader #my favorite gd fic is back and it’s everything to me #if you know you know #stop everything and read this fic #it will change you but in a good way #in the most wonderful way #lluna.p.rec

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llunapastell-reads · 8 months ago

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Freak Show Talk | 3racha, lmh

𝙡𝙭𝙭𝙞. 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙬𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙞 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚

! fwb, free use ft. all, fujoshi fem reader, poly, enm, angst, smut, dead dove do not eat. <1k wc. 18+ readers only !

「Contents List」「Act 1」「© October 2024 by jl-micasea-fics」

Han Jisung— rapper, charmer, ringleader of the clowns. He dons many titles, and loves them all equally.

“Why didn’t you just tell him?”

His head is in his hands, his phone on the table. “I don’t know, dude. I clammed up. Shit.”

You’d laugh if it wasn’t so painful.

“You realise you’ve just made this a whole thing, right?” you sigh.

“Yeah.”

“When it didn’t need to be.”

“I know.”

“It’s not like we’re fucking on the cake display.”

Jisung snorts. “You wish.”

“I think too highly of carbs to do that.” You sip the froth from your cappuccino, the mug warm in your hands. “Seriously, though. We’re only hanging out. We’re not doing anything wrong.”

He sighs, scratches under his beanie where dark strands peek. Perpetually possessing a healthy glow, simply being around him is enough to lift spirits. No wonder Minho does so at every opportunity.

He pouts into his strawberry Frappuccino.

“Do you feel like we are?” you ask.

“No, man. Come on. I love that we’re friends now. I just— Don’t you feel kind of bad for Minho?”

“In what way?”

“In the way that we’re, like, hanging out behind his back.”

“Behind his back?”

Jisung grimaces. “Without him, I guess.”

You set your beverage down, fold your arms. “I never asked you to keep this a secret.”

“I know—”

“I’ve never stopped you from inviting him, either.”

“Right.” He rubs his right eye. “But wouldn’t inviting him be, like...”

“Awkward? Probably, yeah. He and I have stopped fucking, but you two continue to. Of course, it’ll be awkward. We’ll get over it. I told you, I'm happy for you.”

Jisung quirks a brow. “I don’t know about that.”

“About what?”

“Him and me. Fucking. Continuing to.”

“... You’re not?”

“We get close, but no. Not since you two broke up.”

“Well, I mean; that’s fine, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s fine.”

“Changbin and I haven’t really had sex either. It’s not the end of the world.”

Jisung shrugs, lips wrapped around his straw. He talks around it. “I’m not suggesting it is.” He swallows. “I just feel like there’s more going on with him than he’ll admit to. Dude’s so stuck in his head all the time. It worries me.”

“I... hadn’t noticed.”

“No, well; you guys aren’t as close you used to be. Figures.”

Sickness stirs. You swallow it down.

“What do you think is wrong with him?” you ask, because Jisung seems to know better than you.

“If I had to guess, he misses you.”

“We see each other every day.”

Jisung glares at you.

“He’s the one that ended things, Ji. As much as it hurt at the time, he was right to do so. I’d never have spent the last few weeks focusing on myself otherwise, and I'm a better person for it.”

“If you say so,” he sighs, swirling his straw through pink cream.

“Besides, I don’t see why his missing me should have any effect on his relationship with you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You’ve never missed someone so much it takes you away from everything else?” he says. “You and Bin hyung aren’t fucking either, remember.”

“That’s got nothing to do with Minho.”

“Right. Whatever.”

“I used my pain to my advantage,” you urge. “Let it lead me into changing things.”

“Good for you. Maybe Minho can’t do that. People handle grief in different ways. And that’s what this is, by the way— he’s grieving.”

You slide your hands around your cappuccino, bring it close.

“You should talk to him,” Jisung says quietly.

“And say what?”

“Tell him that we’re hanging out, for a start. Put his mind at ease.”

You roll your eyes. Not worth pointing out Jisung’s role in setting it off-kilter in the first place.

“Tell him you still have feelings for him, too.”

“He knows that, Ji.”

“A little reassurance never hurt,” he says.

You sip froth from your coffee. “Fine. But—”

“Excuse me?”

A voice to the right draws yours and Jisung’s attention: two teen girls huddle closely, phones clutched in their hands, all aflutter. They inch towards the table, wide eyed stares fixed to Jisung.

“You— You’re Han Jisung, right?” One of them says. “J One?”

Jisung nods, bows in his chair, adjusts his beanie. “Yeah.”

The girls squeal, drawing dubious glances from customers. Jisung shrinks into himself.

“Oh my god!” The other exclaims. “Oh my god, oh my god! We’re huge fans. We love you so much!”

“Ah, thank you.”

“Can we, like, get a picture with you?” They’re shuffling closer, now too close to be comfortable.

Jisung falters, panic paling him. “Oh, I— I’m sorry, I can’t—”

“Just one picture!” The girls raise their phones and turn, frame a selfie, and unable to bear it any longer, you rise and quickly pose in front of Jisung, a victory ‘V’ held up in frame.

“What the hell?!” One girl complains, whirling around. “Do you mind—”

“Do you mind?” you hiss. “I believe he just told you that he can’t give you a picture.”

“We were just—”

“Just disrespecting the man’s boundaries? Just fishing for your five minutes of fame?”

The girls glower, their mouths opening and shutting like floundering fish.

“Let him drink his coffee in peace,” you say acerbically.

“Come on.” One girl grabs the other’s arm. “Let’s go.” She turns to Jisung, bows low. “Sorry.”

With that, they scarper from the café, eyes of curious customers following them. A smartly dressed barista approaches, asks if everything is okay. You reassure them it is. When you sit back down, Jisung is staring.

“What?” you deadpan.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“That’s the strangest ‘thank you’ I've ever heard.”

He snorts, colour returning to him. He takes one long sip of his Frappuccino, hurriedly pulls his jacket back on. He smacks his lips and gestures to the door. “Come on.”

“We’re leaving? But I haven’t finished my—”

He’s already getting up, weaving through the café and breezing out.

“Hey! Wait for me!”

𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 >

𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙? 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚 ♡ >

< 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 | 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 >

#to read later #this story is so fun 🤩#I think I’m going to like this duo #thank you op for this update ! looking forward to diving back into this story #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you

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llunapastell-reads · 9 months ago

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Freak Show Talk | 3racha, lmh

𝙡𝙭𝙞𝙭. 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙

! fwb, free use ft. all, fujoshi fem reader, poly, enm, angst, smut, dead dove do not eat. <1k wc. 18+ readers only !

「Contents List」「Act 1」「© September 2024 by jl-micasea-fics」

“Why hate me so instantly?”

He draws tense.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he mutters.

“I know that. I don’t think I'd even said hello before you decided I was enemy number one.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “There’s no easy way to explain it. I don’t know if I even can.”

“Try.”

“Alright.” He thumbs his empty glass, hand trembling. “When... I was a trainee, I had a girlfriend.”

He stands and rounds the bar, rapping his knuckles over the surface. Understandable that he should require the forty percent proof of courage.

“We dated for two years, and she was my first everything.” He picks up the same bottle, this time foregoing the glass to swig straight from the neck. “I planned my entire future around her. Debuting took a backseat; shit, everything did. I was so in love, I just... I don’t know. I made her the centre of my world.” He drinks again. “To cut a long story short, things changed.”

“It ended?”

Chan laughs. “No. No, it didn’t end. I didn’t get that kind of closure. She debuted in a girl group, and it was like I never existed at all. Like I was a—” He swallows, veins in his neck straining. “A fucking stranger. I was cut off, ignored. Ghosted, I guess they’d call it now. We didn’t have that word back then. Things came to a head when I tried the only thing I could think of and went to her dressing room after her show. I asked her why.”

“...And?”

“And, I’m still none the wiser.”

He drinks again, lips moist. You reach for the bottle and he passes it, a sip of your own steeling what nerves are wavering with his tale.

“She was so...” He falters. “She just screamed and shoved me like an animal. Hit me. Accused me of assault. Tried to press charges. Branded me a sasaeng.”

Oh.

Oh, God.

“I lost everything. My career, my home, my reputation, my mind. There was no sense to any of it, no heart in her. That girl; she wasn’t Jia. I still don’t believe it was her.”

“You should try to.”

Chan quirks a brow.

“When people show you a side of themselves you don’t like, it’s not for you to try and warp that into something you can understand.” You take another swig. “I had to learn that too.”

“So I just make peace with the fact that she was probably always a monster? That she never loved me as much as I loved her? That the two years we spent together were for nothing?”

“I don’t have all the answers, Chan. I just know that in convincing yourself she wasn’t herself then, you’re clinging to something you probably never had. You remember her as your ‘first everything’— she was also the first person to traumatise you so badly, you’re still broken up about it. So much so that it’s affecting the way you live.”

Chan blinks, head hung low.

“You called me a sasaeng.”

He nods.

“Projecting?”

“Christ. I don’t think I can face the idea that your being a fan was enough to trigger me like that. Out of nowhere.”

“Can’t have been out of nowhere.” You slide the bottle back; he catches it against his palm. “I think you felt threatened.”

He says nothing, face sombre.

“We met under conditions your boyfriends negotiated, but I don’t think you were ever really prepared for it. I wasn’t either, in a way.”

His brows knit.

“You panicked when the time came and lashed out at me—a stranger, a fan—the way someone you loved once lashed out at you. Your unhealed trauma made me the homewrecker trying to take what was yours. Made me the enemy. Made me the sasaeng.”

“Wow,” Chan mumbles. “What am I paying Doctor Kindelle for again?”

“I just call it as I see it.”

“Wish you saw it weeks ago.”

“Mhm. Me too.”

“I’ve been carrying this rage around for so long,” he says, turning the liquor bottle over. “It’s a wonder Changbin and Jisung still put up with me.”

“They love you.”

Chan scoffs.

“You don’t believe it?” you ask.

“It’s hard to when all they seem to want are other people.”

Guilt wrenches your chest, bitterness on your tongue.

“You don’t have to feel bad about it,” he says, taking a generous swig of liquor. “I know you and Bin are good together.”

You fidget on the stool. “I— I don’t know if I'd go that far.”

“Fine; the sex then. He’s happier than I’ve seen him in a while. You must be doing something right.”

Something. Sure.

“It reminds me of when we first started dating,” he sighs. “Back then, nothing else mattered so long as we were together. We were so happy.” He swigs again. “Then other things did start mattering. We got older, our lives changed. I fought it so hard. I’m clinging to it; all the memories, waiting for things to go back to how they were, but I know they won’t. They can’t. I hear the things they say to me— that they’re suffocating, they need more than what our bubble can give them or it’ll be the end of us. I know that.” His voice breaks. “Just because I know it doesn’t mean it’s easy to accept. I’m doing my best. Trying to give them what they need without losing my mind again.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think any of us are playing with a full deck, Chan. I’m certainly not.”

“Seriously. They drive me crazy. But I truly would rather share them than lose them altogether. Losing them… it’s not an option.”

“I know.”

“Does Minho get you like this? Have you questioning everything?”

You laugh weakly. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Chan falters. “Really?”

“We split.”

“What? Why?”

You shrug softly. “It’s not anyone’s fault. It just is.”

Chan straightens, expression unreadable as he rounds the bar. Footsteps echo—one, two, three, four—they number past transgressions and sink to the still pool of water that lives under the flaming bridge. He opens his arms and takes you in them; between your legs he stands and close to his chest you are drawn, the stool creaking beneath you. It’s not familiar, but neither does it scare you. A new brand of comfort, brought by a soul as damaged as yours.

“We’ll be okay,” he whispers. “Somehow, it’ll all be okay.”

𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜, 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 >

𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙? 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚 ♡ >

< 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 | 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 >

#the goat posted everyone shut up #absolutely beautiful as always #do yourself a favor and check out this fic!!!#stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #lluna.p.rec

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llunapastell-reads · 10 months ago

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promise that you won’t fall | h.hj smau

pairing: hyunjin x reader

genre: angst, smut, social media au (with written parts), coworkers au, exes to lovers, enemies to lovers, fwb to lovers

summary: Your high school romance with Hwang Hyunjin was intense and unforgettable, but it ended abruptly when he vanished to college without a word. Years later, your paths cross again as you’re both hired to plan a mutual friend's dream wedding. Despite the time that has passed, old wounds are reopened and unresolved feelings resurface. Will this twist of fate rekindle your connection or drive you apart for good?

status: upcoming

taglist OPEN

#hyunjin x reader #hyunjin social media au #OMFG SHES BACK #my smau queen #the way vi writes hyunjin is superb #i’m locking in #lluna.p.rec

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llunapastell-reads · 10 months ago

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CLUB CLASSICS — PT. 1 of MEGAVERSE — [18+!]

AN INTERACTIVE SERIES

“Come on, be a good girl for me, Y/N,” he softly whispers.

❕ [READ CAREFULLY] Select an option for the poll after reading a chapter! [polls will be up for 7 days and then the next part drops]

🧩 CONTENT INFO: skz ot8 x afab reader [not at the same time], smut/fluff/angst, parallel universe/video game au, sci-fi au, refer to series m.list for more infos

📗 WORD COUNT: 5.7K

⛳️ CONTENT WARNING: explicit sexual content [includes oral (f receiving), protected sex, choking, praise, name calling such as babygirl and good girl], alcohol consumption, mention of smoking weed and dealing, subtle hint of toxic relationship and stalking (not reader)

💚 AUTHOR’S NOTE: the first part is here! choose your option wisely. i hope you will like this little intro and if you do so, I’d be very grateful for any kind support (reblogs, comments, asks, DMs etc.). I’m sending lots of love to you and thank you for reading 🫶🏻

Some people would say that it's weird texting your friend that lives with you while he’s at home as well, but perhaps that’s just the age we live in. Or in your specific case, it’s easier to communicate with written words, regarding the fact you have a crush on him.

Opening the Discord app, you search for Jisung’s chat with you and send a message as well as a little meme to hype him up.

[y/n]: hop on discord dude

[y/n]: tenor.gif

You know that he’s always on his phone—especially nowadays which worries you a little—so he might see the messages soon and he does.

[jisung]: sorry mate i’m busy gettin readyyy

[jisung]: venessa invited me over ;)

Your heart bursts into a thousand pieces. Right. The girl he’s been texting with.

It’s ridiculous, yes, that you have a crush on your longtime friend and roommate Han Jisung—and also a little pathetic but who can resist a gamer boy—so it was inevitable for jealousy to bubble up in your stomach and take over you.

Deep breaths, Y/N. Everything’s alright.

[y/n]: jeong venessa? that tiktok girlie?

You know who he means. You don’t even know why you ask again. Tapping your nails against the surface of your table, you await an answer.

[jisung]: you heard it correctly

[jisung]: tonight’s the night if you know what i mean

You do indeed know but you wished you could erase it from your brain forever.

[y/n]: oh congrats

[y/n]: then i’m gonna go partying alone with cecilia. your loss. they’re playing 2010s music tonight in hongdae

It’s not even a lie. That was your plan for later anyway. However, after a round of possibly playing your current favourite game with him you were hopeful to get Jisung to drag along with you. It would have been a perfect idea to spend more time with him—while your best friend is busy talking to her own crush anyway. Cool, now you’re gonna be third wheeling.

[jisung]: you guys are going clubbing in hongdae??? then you probably won’t need me anyway. there will be enough other men trying to get your attention ;)

Other men that give you attention?

Does he mean that otherwise he would be the one to do that?

Han Jisung confuses to no end these days. This constant hot and cold, push and pull messes with your head. One second he’s flirting with you, the next one he’s talking about that Venessa girl again.

[y/n]: like… you?

[y/n]: what’s that supposed to mean, ji?

You look at the little symbol that shows that he’s typing, before you receive two messages.

[jisung]: nothing 😝 have fun baby

[jisung]: call me if you need anything

Baby.

That’s the thing.

Why does he call you baby a few hours before probably having his dick inside another woman?

[y/n]: i thought you were busy with venessa 🤨

You don’t get him.

[jisung]: probably will be 😏

[jisung]: but i’m always here for my favourite girl so don’t worry 😘

You decide to just drop it. Jisung isn’t aware of your actual feelings for him and you guys have always been this playful and flirty with one another. So, you can’t just start being mad at him out of nowhere. That wouldn’t be fair.

Sure, what you guys need is an actual conversation. Communicate whatever the fuck that is between you two. But then again, he’s been so busy these days with his work as a new IT consultant after graduating college—you seriously have no idea what his job involves and what he does there—so this hasn’t been an option so far.

You brush all those thoughts off and type another message.

[y/n]: have fun too ji!! 🥰

He instantly replies.

[jisung]: thanks baby ❤️

“Y/N, he will be here tonight!” Cecilia squeals.

Yes. This is the first thing your best friend says when she enters your apartment two hours after your little chat with Jisung who still isn’t at home.

Cecilia doesn’t even greet you, but walks inside, severely hyped for the night. You absolutely adore and admire how much energy she brings into a room but for an introvert like you it can get annoying quickly as well.

“Who?”

She takes her shoes off, grabs you by your wrist and drags you into your bedroom.

“Hyunjin, you dumbass. I told you, he’s gonna go to the same club with his friends,” Cecilia explains, dropping down to the floor to start doing her makeup. “Which also means Changbin will be there too though…”

“Of course he had to be here too,” you chuckle. “I mean, your brother and Hyunjin are best friends. Changbin goes whenever he goes.”

“I know, but it’s sooo annoying,” she says, throwing her head back.

“I get that, darling. We’re gonna make the best out of this night,” you reassure her, while finishing up your makeup. You’re already looking for the dress that you want to wear, running around in your small bedroom.

“Sure! Tonight’s the night for Hyunjin finally taking me home with him,” she giggles.

God, it’s annoying. You seriously thought this was gonna be a girls’ night—at least as much as possible—but Cecilia is unfortunately that type of woman that talks about men all day long.

“D’you think he fucks in missionary or prefers doggy?” she questions, tilting her head.

“Cee! Are you insane? Why would you ask that?”

“Ugh, never mind. You’re such a prude, for real,” she scoffs. “When was the last time you got any?”

You hate it. You absolutely hate it when she starts talking about sex. It’s not like you’re actually a prude—it drives you mad that she talks to you like this but you’re too much of a coward to defend yourself—but you might be inexperienced, yes. Most men you met in your life just didn’t excite you in a way that’s enough to be intimate with them.

You don’t have to love someone to cross that border, but there has to be some type of connection and a little spark between you for it to work.

“Does it matter?” you ask, slipping into the black dress you chose for tonight.

“Yeah, you need to get outta there. Make some experience. I can’t believe your body count is still only two,” Cecilia shakes her head.

“Why is it a bad thing? I mean, it doesn’t really matter if my body count is two or twenty, does it?” you ask, turning around towards her.

“You’re such a pretty girl when you take in some effort and dress up, why not get some free attention from men, hm?”

You decide to not reply anymore and it works—the conversation dies down and Cecilia forgets about the topic. However, this just brings her back to her previous focus.

“Do you think Hyunjin prefers dark red lipstick or a brighter shade?” she asks, looking at two different products in her hand.

It’s been like this for weeks now. Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin. That’s all she ever talks about. Sure, you can admit that the guy is handsome—but you’d love to talk to your best friend about other topics as well.

“I don’t know… I’d just wear what fits best with the outfit,” you suggest.

“Thanks, babe!” Cecilia applies her dark red lipstick before she looks at you, her mouth falling agape. “Gosh, you look pretty like this. You should totally wear dresses like these more often and stop hiding.”

“Thank you.” At least you guess so. Sometimes Cecilia’s compliments feel a little backhanded.

So, for whatever reason—it might be the wine you had—you decide to ask her questions instead, “What’s your thoughts on having a first date with Hyunjin, by the way?”

“First date? I’d love to date him, no question. But you know how I feel about serious relationships these days. After everything with Michael,” she explains

Right. The guy that told her that he loved her after the first date and then called her with several different numbers after she kept blocking him.

“Yeah, that’s super valid. I just thought… you seem to like Hyunjin a lot, so…” you continue.

“I do,” she agrees, looking into your eyes now and she’s suddenly so serious. “But I also need to protect my heart so no man can ever stab it with a dagger again.”

“Fair point.” You get up from your seat and grab your purse, watching Cecilia finishing the last touches of her lipstick. “Are you ready?”

Your best friend stands up too, as she follows you to the front door of your apartment. Jisung is already gone and for a second your thoughts start wandering again.

But only until Cecilia snaps you out of them. “Let’s go, babe.”

It’s loud. It’s sticky. It’s crowded in here.

Why the hell did you decide to go clubbing in Hongdae again?

Cecilia and you have been here for almost half an hour, currently sipping on your second drink and swinging your hips to the mediocre music, when a certain someone approaches you two.

“Hi, Cecilia, how’re you?” the tall man instantly asks, pulling your best friend into a hug. She has to hold back a squeal and presses him tightly against her body.

Hyunjin is the first one to pull away, before he brings his attention to you. “Y/N, hey, I’m glad you’re here. Everything alright?”

You instantly become confused—why shouldn’t everything be alright? Sure, you haven’t been in the best state of mind, regarding the fact your crush is at another girl’s place, probably getting his dick sucked right now, but you’ve tried your best to hide it.

“Yeah, of course. It’s nice to see you,” you say, meaning it. Whereas Hyunjin is off the table—and not really your type anyway—since he’s your best friend’s crush, you’ve never viewed him in a romantic light. But you feel super safe around him and that’s what counts.

He gets called by a friend from afar and follows them there, telling you two he will be back soon.

“Nice to see you?! What the hell was that?” your best friend shoves you aside from the dancefloor, her blood boiling up with anger.

What on earth?

“I’m just being friendly. He said something along these lines too,” you instantly defend yourself. You hate that you always get defensive around her even if you didn’t do anything.

“No, no, no. That’s gonna stop. You’re not going to flirt with my crush, Y/N,” Cecilia tells you.

“What? I wasn’t even flirting with him,” you reply.

“Good. Because I can’t risk him falling in love with you,” she says, shaking her head.

Is she for fucking real right now?

“Slow down with the drinks, Cee. You sound ridiculous. He doesn’t see me like that and much more importantly—I don’t like him like that either,” you explain.

“Sure. I mean, you could do something to prove that,” she suggests, clicking her tongue. And that smirk. She’s got the same smirk sometimes as her half-brother. This can’t mean anything good.

“What do you mean?” you questions

“Flirt with a man that’s not Hyunjin,” she chuckles.

“Why would I do that?”

“Just for fun. To show me that our friendship means something to you. And to grow a pair and make some experiences with men, duh,” Cecilia continues.

“What would I be getting out of it?”

“Like I said—fun and experience.”

She can tell by the look on your face that this isn’t enough to convince you. Your definition of fun is staying at home, playing video games and ordering food.

“Fine, and I pay for our coffee dates for the next two weeks.”

You’re still hesitant, so Cecilia’s gaze softens.

“Y/N, listen. You can always say no, yeah? I’m just trying to hype up your mood. You’ve been looking a bit… out of it today. And I think this could help. Just a little flirting, trust me, yeah?”

You sigh, “Fine. I’m in.”

There’s nothing to lose anyway, right? The party is boring as hell and you can’t get Jisung out of your mind. He’s probably busy with having Venessa under him, so you can have some fun too.

Great timing—you see your best friend’s crush approaching you, carrying a round of tequila.

“Shots, ladies?” Hyunjin says, bringing Changbin with him.

“Always, Jinnie,” Cecilia tells him with a wink.

Another hour passes by, as your best friend and her crush are basically sticking together like glue. He’s dancing with her, pulling her close, while you’re standing far away, having the worst time of your life.

The amount of alcohol you had doesn’t do you a favour, which is why you impulsively open your Discord app, looking if your roommate is there.

[y/n]: ji? are you online?

[y/n]: cecilia is spending all her time flirting with hyunjin and i can’t look at this anymore

Why would Jisung be online though? He’s on a date. Or something like that.

[y/n]: it’s so boring here i’m actually thinking about just choosing whatever dude crosses my view next and become as pathetic as i’ve never been…

It’s totally normal for you to overshare with him. Jisung is used to it. He does the same with you.

Although, in combination with your intoxication it might not be the smartest idea you’ve ever had.

[y/n]: i wish you were here rn ngl

Fucking hell. You should stop. You really should. But you carry that insane urge inside your soul to just tell him about your feelings.

[y/n]: I hope ditching us for venessa was worth it and she gives good head

[y/n]: i’d be better at it tho

Shit. You should slow down the drinking.

When you receive a notification from your Duolingo app—the green owl threatening you to do your language lessons or else—you’re being pulled back into reality again.

Oh, God. What did you just text Jisung?

You’re glad about the fact that first, Discord allows you to delete messages and second, your roommate doesn’t have notifications for Discord turned on. So, you just get rid off the two unhinged texts again.

This party is going so… not well. And the same counts for the bet with Cecilia. Shit. You’re so bored and you really want that free coffee for two whole weeks. Maybe it’s worth putting in some effort. It’s just flirting, nothing else, right?

Your eyes start roaming around inside the club, looking for potential men but they don’t seem to be very successful. None of them ignites some type of spark inside you.

For a second you think about flirting with Changbin. Just to piss Cecilia off. But you can’t do this. He’s basically the polar opposite of his sister when it comes to romance—absolutely hopeless and the relationship type of guy.

But just when you’re about to turn around and head to the bar to get something non-alcoholic, someone decides to talk to you instead.

“Hi, I’m Chan. One of Hyunjin’s friends. I think we’ve met before, right?”

Fuck, he’s beautiful. The man is wearing a white button down shirt combined with black trousers. Not the most oddinary outfit choice but he looks amazing in this simple combination. He’s wearing his curls open, as his dark brown eyes stare right at you. And those plump lips—God, they look so kissable–

“Yes, I’m Y/N, nice to meet you again,” you manage to catch yourself.

“What’s your favourite drink?” he asks, carrying a smirk on his face.

“Right now I actually think of answering lemonade. Just because I’ve had one beverage too many,” you confess.

Chan chuckles, looking so pretty while doing it, “Great choice. You wanna come with me, so I can buy the prettiest girl in the club her favourite lemonade?”

Oh, he’s smooth. You didn’t expect that at all.

With Chan time just passes by. You instantly get along, talking about anything and everything, basically just jumping from one topic to the next one. It’s crazy.

“Yeah, that’s right. I moved to Jeju Island a year ago. Surfing there is so much fun. It reminds me of my childhood in Australia,” he tells you.

He’s such an interesting person. You could listen to him for the rest of the night.

“Woah, that’s incredible. You’re meant to be living by the ocean, huh?”

“I just love the calm it gives me,” he adds.

You’ve never done something like this before. With Chan, you don’t have to know each other on an extremly deep level—it’s as if you met ten years ago. You instantly clicked from the beginning and maybe that’s how you excuse bringing him home with you an hour later.

Usually, you’re not someone who has one night stands. The sheer thought of them is a huge turn-off for you. But perhaps since Chan is one of Hyunjin’s friends, it doesn’t feel like being with a stranger. Plus, you’ve been talking for what felt like eternity until he even made the slightest move on you. He seems shy, although you can’t read if that’s perhaps just pretence.

The two of you get in the backseat of the cab he called for you, giggling like teenagers. Once you made it home, you catch yourself checking if your roommate is at home. But he isn’t. Jisung is probably still at Venessa’s place. After all, he’s spending the night there, right?

“You okay, babygirl?” Chan asks, walking a bit closer to you after he’s taken off his shoes.

“Yeah. More than that,” you smile. When he’s with you, you suddenly forget about the rest of the world and you can’t put it into words why he’s got that effect on you.

“You’re in the right state of mind, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I’m sober. I want this,” you admit.

“Good. Because I won’t be able to stop, once I have you underneath me,” he warns you.

And Chan manages to keep his words. A little while later, he’s got you spread out on your soft mattress. Your thighs are thrown over his shoulders, as he places rough kisses on your inner thighs. He’s gonna devour you like a starving man, that you are sure of. You might be inexperienced but this is a scene that’s played in your head a thousand times before.

“Come on, be a good girl for me, Y/N,” he softly whispers and you follow suit, parting your legs further.

His fingertips are grazing over the wet patch on your ruined panties, softly colliding with your clit. Chan pushes the fabric aside, exposing your wet cunt to him and all that menace does is smirk.

“Fucking hell,” he curses to himself, right before his tongue starts collecting your juices. He smears them all over your pussy, making you squirm underneath him. A minute later, two of his fingers are inside your hole, stretching you out so deliciously.

He prepares you well for what he’s got planned with you—making you forget about everything but his name and how good he’s making you feel.

“Chan–“

He looks up at you between the curls that are covering his forehead, “Yeah, baby?”

“Can you please… please just fuck me?”

You don’t even know what has gotten into you. Maybe you’ve got a bit inspired by certain scenes you’ve read in all those romance books.

But judging the way Chan’s gaze is darkening, he enjoys it.

“Of course, baby. Because you’re such a good girl for me, hm?”

He reaches inside his jeans pockets to grab a condom, as he gets up. Chan wastes no time and takes off his remaining clothes, before he crawls back on the bed. You’ve still got your legs spread, impatiently awaiting him.

He scoots back right between them, opening the wrapper and sliding down the condom on his hardened cock.

“Are you sure you want this, Y/N?” he asks, oh so softly.

“Absolutely. I can’t wait,” you tell him.

Maybe there was something good about the bet your best friend made with you.

Chan is careful, when he brushes the tip of his cock over your folds, teasing you a little and you let him. He's circling around your entrance, before he pushes the first few centimetres inside, watching you get adjusted to the sensation.

You tell him to start moving a little while later and that’s what he does. Well—not just that. He also casually manages to make your brain finally shut up with the way he’s pounding his hard dick into your aching cunt.

“Fuck, you’re driving me mad, babygirl,” he whispers into your ears. Chan has one hand wrapped around your throat, slightly applying pressure to the sides.

“Channie–“ you let out.

“Yeah, call me by that name again,” he grunts through his teeth.

“Channie– please– ‘s too much,” you babble.

He reduces his speed a bit. “You want me to slow down, baby?”

“N-No. Keep going, please,” you change your mind. It just feels too good to have him inside of you. You dearly hope this won’t be the last time being with him.

“You’re so polite, hm? Such a good girl for me. Letting me ruin you like this, baby,” Chan chuckles, slightly changing the angle so he can fuck into you even deeper.

Oh, God. And he’s driving you closer to the edge with this.

“Whenever you’re ready, darling. I’ve got you, yeah?”

As if he’s manipulated both your mind and body, you follow suit, allowing the intense sensation to take over you. Pure ecstasy is rushing through your cells, while Chan helps you through your high.

“You look so pretty when you come for me,” he whispers, feeling himself getting closer too. A minute later or less, he fills the condom as he praises you with more words.

“You did so well for me,” is what he says before pulling out again.

Jisung manages to get home by three in the morning, calling a cab after Minho and Akira placed him into the vehicle.

He reaches for his phone for the first time within hours, instantly reading your texts before he replies.

[jisung]: you okay y/n?

[jisung]: why did you delete 2 messages and what were they about?

Fuck. He dearly hopes you’re safe.

However, the thoughts are spiralling inside his head. They’ve been doing this for the past hours ever since Venessa ended their date because Jisung perhaps accidentally moaned your name while they were getting intimate.

His drunk brain takes over him then, making it hard for him to stop hitting the keyboard with his thumbs.

[jisung]: do you need me to pick you up?

[jisung]: i’m not with venessa anymore… it was a useless date tbh… turns out she realised i have feelings for someone else lol

[jisung]: the whole purpose of meeting up with her was forgetting about that other person

Jisung doesn’t even realise he accidentally spilled that. He’s just a mess. It’s surprising how he manages to type that well.

[jisung]: fucking hell im rambling sorry.., that’s what drinking with minho and akira does to me lol

He shouldn’t have gone with them. His best friend and his colleague never know when to stop.

[jisung]: i would rather be with you my favourite person rn.. have you in my arms, take care of you, give you the best night of your life baby

[jisung]: wait

[jisung]: shit i’ve had too many drinks

Jisung keeps worrying but decides to enter your shared apartment first, thinking it's best if he sobers up a little before he sends a message he might regret in the morning.

But his breath gets stuck in his throat when he notices you’re already back home—and you’re not alone. There’s a pair of men’s shoes carefully placed next to the ones you wore tonight on your way to the club.

Fuck. He’s such an idiot. And he can’t even be mad at you for sleeping with another guy when he was the one to brag about his own date.

Jisung hears footsteps then and a screeching noise that indicates your door is opening.

“Oh, hi, I’m Chan,” the man that walks towards the bathroom introduces himself, when he sees Jisung.

Shit. Do you have a boyfriend? At least that’s what Chan instantly thinks.

Jisung sees the panic in his eyes and while he’s in fact jealous you slept with another man, he’s not in a position to claim you. Especially not, when he was the one who went on a date with another woman.

“Hi, I’m Jisung. I’m Y/N’s roommate,” he introduces himself.

“Roommate… okay, thank God,” Chan sighs and adds a little chuckle after his sentence, right before he disappears inside the bathroom.

Fucking hell. How is Jisung supposed to sleep tonight?

“Morning, baby,” a low voice wakes you up from your slumber.

When you slowly open your eyes, you’re sure you’re dreaming. But this feels real. Jisung is next to you in your bed.

Did you…

No, wait. The memories come back then. You did go to bed with a man—but not with your roommate. Still, he's the one with you now. So, Chan must have already left.

“Hey, Ji,” you whisper.

“You slept well?”

“Like a princess, to be honest. I had a great night after all,” you tell him.

It’s not even your intention to make him jealous—why would he be after all—but you did have an amazing time thanks to Hyunjin’s friend Chan.

“I’m sorry I saw your messages so late. I would have picked you up… you sounded so bored,” he tells you, catching his lower lip between his teeth.

Fuck. This certain look always messes with your head. But this morning is slightly different. You’ve got someone else on your mind. Perhaps, it’s just the remaining serotonin that Chan created to be let free inside your system, but you won’t complain.

“Well, I met one of Hyunjin’s friends then who kept me company. He said he met you in the hallway,” you tell him.

“Chan’s already gone?”

“Yeah. How was your date with Venessa?”

Jisung places a hand on his chest, pretending to be hurt, “You didn’t read my messages? It didn’t go that well. Went on for an hour. So I went drinking with Akira and Minho instead.”

“That sounds good too,” you say, still waking up. Your brain is so slow today.

“Hm, you were missing, though,” he replies with a smirk, as he starts playing with a strand of your hair until this one gets tucked behind your ear.

“I’d never disturb your emergency guys night, Ji,” you try to handle the conversation. Why is he being so flirty again? He’s gonna drive you crazy one day.

“Doesn’t matter, I’d rather spent my time with you,” your roommate says with a wink.

“What about Venessa?”

“I told you, we don’t work out.”

You can’t do this right now. You feel dizzy, so you get up, walking away from your roommate who just stares at you confused.

“I’ve gotta go. I’ve got work,” you say, grabbing your clothes.

Perhaps the whole thing will have one good part. Since Jisung went out with Minho last night—the guy that happens to be your former academic rival and then upgraded to being your annoying boss—so you don’t have to worry about another man getting on your last nerve when he’s fighting his own hangover.

“Oh… okay. Maybe we can have a chill evening tonight?” Jisung suggests.

You nod and rush to the bathroom. This is gonna be future-Y/N’s issue to deal with.

Jisung decides to not call after you and when he realises you still have not picked up your phone since last night—he deletes his own messages from his device.

He’s not aware though that you did in fact check them when Chan met him in the hallway last night. Shit. This is messing with your brain.

Why did you find out that after all, Jisung might like you back, when you started to feel like finally moving on? After you allowed someone else to be close to you without any regrets?

Chan has been confusing you—in a good way. Yes, it might have been just a one night stand but you’re actually ready to meet him again.

And now Jisung decides to drunk-text you that there is a slight chance for the two of you?

[jisung]: i’m sorry but something came up at work. i’ll have to stay a little longer and won’t be back until 21:00. are you still in for our movie night?

Okay. That’s good. Your day was exhausting as hell—mainly due to the lack of sleep and ongoing thoughts—so getting some rest for yourself before facing your feelings sounds like a good plan.

[y/n]: no rush!! i’m home anyway and can wait 😊

Your roommate is typing and a few seconds later he sends another text.

[jisung]: ahh thanks baby. you can choose the film and food btw. make yourself comfortable i’ll try to get home asap ❤️

Han Jisung is gonna drive you mad one day. You can’t keep up with these mixed signals anymore but tonight might determine what’s going on between you two.

So, the adult person that you are, you decide to spend your after work hours by playing some good old Sims 4 game. You’ve got a save file that you usually use—one where you adjusted the sims townies’ horrendous looks and created some cool venues. You start this one, select your pre-made version of yourself and put her in a household with no one else than the Han Jisung sim.

What a life. You sometimes wonder what it would be like to be inside a video game. Things could be so much less complicated, for real. After all, you always manage to let your sim self talk to Jisung sim about her feelings and they end up happily married. That’s all you’ve ever wanted, right?

As well as a beautiful mansion, a well paid job and lots of friends. Of course, your sims mostly get there with the help of some cheats and installing so many modification contents that your computer is running so hot you could basically fry an egg on it. But that’s what a girl has to do.

Just when you’re about to let Y/N-sim approach Jisung-sim, you hear your phone buzzing.

It’s from Hyunjin. Three texts. Weird.

[Hyunjin, 19:44]: Hey, Y/N. I just wanted to tell you that you looked really beautiful last night. I hope my mate is treating you well. If this isn’t the case, you know where to find me.

Your mouth falls agape but you read further.

[Hyunjin, 19:45]: and before you ask or get insecure regarding Cecilia. I’m sorry but I don’t like her that way. I’ve told her many times, just so you know, but she doesn’t listen.

Fucking hell. What has gotten into him?

[Hyunjin, 19:46]: I’m not expecting a reaction or response or anything from you. I just needed to get this off my chest and be honest with you. I’m sorry if this is overwhelming. If so, please delete these messages and this never happened. 😇

Yeah, no. You need to calm down first.

When you bring your gaze back to the computer screen, you realise you didn’t hit pause. Cool. At least your house is not on fire. But Y/N-sim took the chance and lit herself a joint to get rid of some work stress, while she’s sitting at the computer… playing The Sims 1.

Wow, the irony. And yes, your sim self version is able to do such forbidden things thanks to the extra content you installed to make your computer’s life a hell.

However, that little video game version makes you realise you’ve run out of weed so you reach for your phone, searching for a certain contact.

[You, 20:07]: hey minnie are you in the area rn?

You get back to your game and a bit later, Seungmin replies.

[Minnie, 20:12]: You need something, doll?

[You, 20:13]: you know me too well 😊

Great, he’s here. Seungmin is your savior. You’re not going to smoke now, that’s for sure. After all, Jisung might be home soon. However, it’s always good to have some stuff here for emergencies like your roommate possibly telling you that he doesn’t feel the same way.

[Minnie, 20:14]: Of course I do. You’re my favourite customer after all.

[Minnie, 20:14]: So, the usual?

He does know you too well.

[You, 20:15]: yup that would be great!! 🫶🏻

[Minnie, 20:16]: Anything for you. I’ll be there in half an hour. Meet me at our spot.

Great. That means you still have about twenty minutes to play your game. Then you can pick up the goods and get back before Jisung comes home.

However, that’s not enough to make Jisung-sim fall in love with Y/N-sim, let them get married and move into their mansion together. Especially not now, since your video game version is a bit out of it. And your computer is so fucking slow.

Fuck… you didn’t hit pause again. Y/N-sim burnt the grilled cheese and her whole house down. Amazing.

Stuff like this can only be saved with cheats. Yes, you wanted an honest game. But you’re not getting one tonight.

You open your separate word document and look for the cheats you need to handle this mess—a few mods will help you with it—and start typing and typing and typing.

You lose track of time completely. Your fingers start aching from hitting the keyboard that much and for a second it feels like you enter some sort of trance.

Until you hear a loud bang.

And after that, all you see is black for a while.

A deep slumber takes over you, before you wake up from it again.

You are able to open your eyes, instantly being hit by the bright screen in front of you that seems to be going around your whole body, no matter where you look at.

In bright letters you read the following:

Welcome to the Real Life Simulations. Please choose a world to play in.

What on earth is going on?

And more importantly, what will you choose?

#hehehe how fun is this!#thoroughly looking forward to the next chapter #thank u op for all your time and hard work 🫶#lluna.p.rec

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llunapastell-reads · 11 months ago

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MEGAVERSE — [18+!]

AN INTERACTIVE SERIES

Life is nothing but a series of choices. What would you do if you had the chance to start over again?

❇️ All you wanted was to be a little delusional. Nothing out of the ordinary, simply creating your crush as a character in a video game to make him fall in love with the version of yourself. Everyone does that, right? Little did you know that cheating your way through the storyline would make you end up in a parallel universe that seems a little too similar to the game you were playing. Hopefully, Jisung is somewhere here too and you’ll make it out together—at least you think so, before you meet seven other, very attractive men. The game proposes a deal to you then: if you want to get back to the real world, you have to marry another character that’s caught inside this simulation too. [announced here on 24/03/10]

❕ [READ CAREFULLY] You, Y/N, happen to become a character in a video game, trying to get back to the real world again—while you’re surrounded by eight very different men that seem to be pretty interested in you. In order to make it out of the game again and see how the story unfolds, select an option for the poll after reading a chapter! [polls will be up for 7 days and then the next part drops]

🧩 CONTENT INFO: skz ot8 x afab reader [not at the same time], smut/fluff/angst, parallel universe/video game au, sci-fi au, very much inspired by The Sims 4 and its worlds and characters, tropes will be determined and revealed throughout the story, warnings under the cut

📗 WORD COUNT: ?/?

CHAPTERS:

[1] — [level not unlocked yet 🔒]

↠ new add-ons available 24/08/16!

MORE CONTENT:

— my sims 4 gallery, where you find the lots and characters [to be shared soon! stay tuned]

— memes

— more posts about the story [asks, announcements etc.]

⛳️ CONTENT WARNING: explicit sexual content, cringe [yes this is a warning and it’s based on The Sims after all], alcohol consumption, mention of smoking weed and dealing, unrequited love

💚 AUTHOR’S NOTE: sign up for the taglist here. if you decide to join, make sure to follow the criteria mentioned in the form and engage meaningfully with the story—by commenting, reblogging, sending asks or messaging me via DMs! :)

The characters do not portray any of the skz members in real life, the names are just used for fiction. Minors do not interact, this post contains mature topics. By reading you consent to nsfw content and agree that you have read all the warnings above carefully.

#stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz x reader #such a cool ass concept!#rb to share with my fellow fic readers

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llunapastell-reads · 11 months ago

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☆°. — study me | hhj

genre: smut, fluff

pairing: nerd!hyunjin x afab!reader

wc: 6k

warnings: inexperienced hyunjin, oral (m receiving), protected sex, fast-ish plot progression, strangers to lovers (only roughly proof read)

author's note: @hyunverse and @astraystayyh made me do it (also inspired heavily by rin's post!!!!!) 😚😚😚

He had always been cute, though he surely wasn't aware of it; when he sat in class, dainty glasses by the curve of his nose, he always seemed focused, taking notes with furrowed brows, full attention granted to the professor up front. When he left the lecture hall it was often in lonesome, and hurried; not shy, per se, but quick, and quiet. When people talked to him he was polite, though his shoulders tensed, and a blush crept up his smiling cheeks; not uncomfortable, as far as you could tell, yet visibly not in his element, either — and it all added to his charm. He was smart and aware of it, though he seldom raised his hand, initiated questions. He never corrected professors on their mistakes, never played the know-it-all even though he could. He simply sat in class, day after day, to your right in front of you, and left to go to his next class as quietly as he had entered your mutual one.

You watched Hyunjin walk into the lecture hall, headphones covering his sense of hearing, bag thrown over his shoulder lazily, a subtle lightness in his step. He fixed his glasses with a long, delicate finger before he sat down to prep his desk; placing his laptop in front of him, reducing the brightness before typing away his password, fishing in his bag for his phone right before the professor walked in. Hyunjin was busy taking off the bony headphones before they disappeared in his bag, and a big hand slid through the dark strands of his hair, only needing one movement to fix them into place; after that there seemed to be a click in his demeanour, in his attention. No music in his ears, no phone in his hands; quick fingers that were copying the headline of today's topic which the professor had projected onto the board, concentrated, glasern eyes void of the initial casual leisureness the had entered the classroom with.

It was a little bit of a ritual, watching him in class; you weren't sure if it was creepy, if it made you some sort of pre-version of a stalker, or an obsessed freak. You weren't sure either, if watching him was the reason you were at risk of failing the class, altogether. You were surprised every day anew that no one else was; that Hyunjin seemed to be nearly invisible for most people on campus, left for the few friends he kept with, or the occasional aquaintance he made for group projects before those relationships faded away, due to the lack of its' benefit. Yet even those people didn't seem to be taken by him the way you were, didn't see him the way you did; a striking beauty, hidden beneath a character so quiet and quirky, helpless, almost, that to others he appeared nothing but ordinary. A studious nerd, introverted and awkward; but you didn't want to go through another day without having talked to him. Couldn't, you thought; you needed to initiate a conversation, wanted so bad to hear the sound of his voice, the look of his eyes when the object he was looking at was you.

The professor had announced a group project for today's class, and had, by the end of explaining all about it and before dismissing the class, ordered you to look for partners until the next lesson, to start with first preparations. In your opinion, it was the perfect opportunity to go up to Hyunjin without appearing a freak, or too pushy, or utterly random; you weren't sure he even knew your name, so simply asking for a coffee seemed too finite to you. As expected, while everyone was still packing their bags and talking of weekend plans and just how boring their next class was going to be, Hyunjin had already put on his headphones and was on his way out of the hall, daring to disappear into the crowd of students before your very eyes. You hurried to collect your things before you stumbled down behind him, falling into a slow run to catch up with him. He was tall, quite a bit taller than you, so his struts were fast without being hurried, and you struggled to keep up with him, fighting your way between people before your hand could finally reach his figure, and a finger of yours tapped on his shoulder.

Your touch made him stop in his tracks in a rather confused manner, and he turned around perplexed before locking eyes with you. When you smiled at him expectantly one hand of his freed his right ear from his headphones, and he returned your smile, though only politely, yet not catching what you have stopped him for. The confusion was written in his eyes, and you hurried to clear it up.

"Hey, I'm y/n, from uh, Statistics... we just had this class together."

You looked at Hyunjin, waiting for a response, despite not having cleared up anything at all. He nodded, fixing his bag on his shoulder. You almost got distracted by the veins which ran through his hand when he did that, but you forced yourself to look him in the eyes instead. Brown and deep. You had never noticed before how captivating they were.

"Yeah, I know who you are...", a smile on his lips and you weren't sure what it meant, but there was a deep blush on his cheeks right after, and it made your chest fill with a warmth so sound you simply kept smiling at him.

"Was there anything you needed?" Pure curiosity in his tone, and you wondered how such a smart person could be so foolish. Though it was cute seeing him perplexed, cute seeing a void of his usual intelligence within his eyes.

You cleared your throat and fixed your bag yourself, before nodding up at him. You had never stood this close to him, had never noticed just how tall he was.

"I wondered if you wanted to be my partner for the group project thing. I'm not really good at statistics, so I wanted to pair up with someone who could... help me. In a way."

Hyunjin blushed deeper at that, and the fist around the strap of his bag tightened. He gulped visibly, Adam’s apple bobbing before his eyes lost yours suddenly, and he nodded, stuttering a little when he spoke.

"Uh, yeah, for sure. I, uh, I'm not really, like, sure if I can help much, I'm not a great teacher, but, uhm-", he looked at you, and you simply reciprocated his gaze; he blushed yet a little harder, fixed his glasses with a clumsy finger, and gave you a shy smile, "but, yeah. I'll be your partner."

☆.☆.☆

It was a Saturday night, and it felt strange not sitting in front of the mirror to apply some make-up, or get a decent outfit ready to wear to a night out with your friends. Instead, your old bag was thrown carelessly over your shoulder and the steps you took on the glistening asphalt were taking you to Hyunjin’s dorm, to study and work on the project with him at seven in the afternoon. Not what you normally busied yourself with, not on a weekend, but you hadn’t been this excited over a Saturday night plan in a good while. The day prior, Hyunjin had been ready to leave right after confirming he would partner up with you; that you needed to exchange phone numbers in order to be able to start the work he had seemingly forgotten, and you had giggled when he’d typed his contact into your phone with a guilty smile and a low-hanging head. He had replied quickly when you had texted him, clarifying his schedule – busier than you had expected, packed to the brim – before confirming to meet up today. And you had been giddy ever since.

When you knocked on his dorm room, Hyunjin opened moments later. He looked comfortable, in a plain black shirt and grey sweatpants, no glasses but his long, raven hair in a lazy bun. He smiled before welcoming you in, stepping aside and closing the door behind you. The room wasn’t big, much like your own, but clean, neat. Not much decoration on the walls but a picture or two, seemingly of family members, or close friends. You spotted multiple game consoles and a spacey monitor on his desk, an expensive looking keyboard, heavy headphones – different ones he took with him to class –, a mic, his school laptop on his bed. Two candles by his nightstand, and one bouquet of dried flowers on his windowsill; if dried on purpose of due to lack of care you were unsure, but they were pretty nonetheless.

Hyunjin stood behind you as you took in his small room, abashed and clearing his throat when you finally looked at him again. You smiled, and disposed your bag next to his bed.

“Nice room.”

He must have not expected the compliment; he looked perplexed, chuckling suddenly and a little too loud before thanking you quietly. He got rid of a couple strands of loose hair with a quick hand, and straightened his back, shaking his head as if to rid himself off thoughts, to find his way back to you. He gave you a quick smile, too; it was so pretty that you almost told him, almost stepped up to be level with him and touch the side of his face, purely to manifest him within you. Him and his face, his shy smile with its’ small, pearly teeth and glistening eyes.

“Alright, I guess we should start. The desk is pretty, uh, full and stuff, you can just sit on the bed, if... you don’t mind.” He sat down on the chair in front of the desk, motioned you to the bed. He tripped over the light carpet on his floor before finding his seat, though acted as though nothing had happened; cute.

“Just get comfortable.”

The sentence didn’t carry any connotation yet Hyunjin reddened after he spoke, and lost your eyes to rummage in his bag and in the drawers of his desk to fish out all the materials he thought he’d need. You smiled to yourself, and did as he told you; got comfortable on his bed, and got out your papers and pencils, spreading them out on his blanketed mattress. It smelt nice, his bed. Clean, almost like neutral linen, but with a hint of a scent you believed to be uniquely his. It was the first time you sensed it; you had never been close enough to him before to notice it, but now that you sat in the essence of it, in the core of his existence, in his very own four walls, it engulfed you. It was deep vanilla and sweetest honey, it was a scent dark and intense, but light. It wasn’t heavy, it didn’t suffocate you. It simply existed in the space around you, and it stuck to him; you doubted you’d ever forget the scent again.

When Hyunjin looked at you again, turning to face you on his chair, he stopped in his tracks, and his eyes seemed to widen, his jaw to tighten. It felt unfamiliar seeing him without his glasses, though very much known to watch the pink flush creep up his neck. He blinked a couple times, simply watching you, and it wasn’t until you shifted in your place, sinking further into his mattress that he moved again, pretending to look for something, or really doing so. He cleared his throat and choked on his own spit, fell into a short coughing fit; you almost giggled, and when Hyunjin caught sight of your repressed grin, the pink on his neck deepened into a red; he was even more helpless than you initially thought. He was still looking around, not frantically but close to it, mumbling something you didn’t catch, until you spotted his glasses on the nightstand. You leaned over to get hold of them, and offered them to him, with eyes big and expectant.

“Are you looking for those?”

The room was so small that the distance between the edge of the bed and the desk was only an arm length, so Hyunjin got hold of the glasses simply by reaching out, thanking you. He was interesting; everything he did around you, from the way he moved to the way he spoke, seemed always to be happening in a state of trance, or incredible awkwardness you hoped stemmed from fluster, not discomfort. The feeling spreading in the pit of your stomach was indescribable, when Hyunjin, with soft, delicate fingers and a familiar move, placed the silvery glasses on the rich curve of his nose, fixing them into the dip of his ears before sliding them up; ready to work, and he looked concentrated momentarily, serious; far more attractive up close than when you watched him in class, and you wondered if you’d handle an entire hour of speaking to him while in his bed, in his room, in the midst of his scent.

Yet the hour flew by too fast for your liking, and before you knew it you were packing your bag and making your way to the door of Hyunjin’s dorm room. The hour had contained of more giggling and casual talking than you had thought, and it had gotten you excited. Maybe it was your fantasy, but Hyunjin had seemed interested; more than just into the project, interested in you, too. He had asked questions, had initiated conversation, had neglected his work. He had been – after half an hour – brave enough to poke fun at your lack of mathematical skill, after you had failed to understand an equation he’d tried to bring closer to you. You had gasped and acted hurt, and the giggle which he had followed up with had made you so speechless that Hyunjin had needed to continue with the explaining, flustered and stuttering, a little rocky; all hope of understanding his explaining had been lost there, but you hadn’t minded it.

Hyunjin stood by the door, held it open for you. There it was again, the fluster in his eyes, the flush on his neck; and you weren’t even doing anything. It’s not like the big doe eyes you caught his gaze with could play any role in his abash, or the purposeful teasing smile you shot him. It also couldn’t be the fact you simply stood in his door, waiting for him to say something, instead of leaving for the night with a simple goodbye, with your bag in hand, and quick fingers in your hair, pretending to fix it.

“Uh, we didn’t really come really far.”, he finally voiced with a chuckle, and you reciprocated. Yet you waited; it seemed there was more he wished to say. Hyunjin stepped from one foot to the other, furrowed his brows quickly before losing your eyes, locking your gaze again and opening his mouth, though without success initially. He closed it again, at a loss for words, and you cocked your head curiously, deliberately waiting, feigning ignorance. He huffed out an awkward chuckle, more air than laugh, and ruffled his hair. It made it look messier than before, but you liked it.

“Sorry, just – do you wanna meet tomorrow? I know it’s a Sunday, but... I don’t know, I thought we could work on the project some more. Only if you want to.”, he added quickly when you didn’t say anything. Only after you nodded with a smile Hyunjin’s shoulders seemed to relax, the tension in his body dissipating into relief.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then. Same time?”

☆.☆.☆

It had been two weeks of continuous meeting and working on the project with Hyunjin; but it had also been two weeks of continuous laughing and talking, of conversations far more memorable than the frustration over the schoolwork. Hyunjin had opened up to you, though still shy and quiet, far calmer around you now, more comfortable, it seemed. Yet you shied from initiating more; you had touched his thigh in friendly manner a week ago, barely a second, and the man had turned to a statue of stone, had lost sense of every word he’d had dancing on his lips, had lost train, even, of every thought; it had needed him a good five minutes before he had spoke again. Not only that, but he had eyed you the entire time after, hadn’t left his eyes wander from you, unless you’d caught and reciprocated them; only then his gaze had fallen to his fiddling hands in his lap, sneaking a look again only when you weren’t watching anymore.

You were sure he liked you, you doubted to be wrong about that; but ironically, you liked him too much to confront that, in fear of shying him away, of risking the delicate friendship which had developed over the past two weeks. The group project would end next week, and you weren’t sure if you’ve acquainted enough to stay friends beyond that.

You were sitting on Hyunjin’s bed, him on the mattress beside you, two hours into working on a PowerPoint which looked somewhat decent; decent to Hyunjin’s standards, that was, because you didn’t even know half the tricks he used to connect slides and merge texts and pictures; you would have stopped working on it a good while ago, deeming everything neat and sensible, but Hyunjin had looked at you wide-eyed and shocked, claiming it wasn’t near half-way done. You didn’t mind that he continued working on it; you enjoyed spending time with him, and you enjoyed watching him work, seeing him in his element. He had told you that he was into computers and everything regarding them, whether it was gaming or programming, or merely learning about the matter; you’d had the privilege to watch him build together a new keyboard he acquired, and as little interest as you had in the matter yourself, it was fascinating seeing him burn for something. He had grown bashful when he’d notice how much he had talked, and had apologized; when you’d admitted how cute it was, he hadn’t known what to do with himself, and had simply gone back to installing.

The small laptop lay on Hyunjin’s thighs as he typed away, finding new things to add, brows furrowed and the familiar, concentrated look in his eyes you knew so well from class; and, now, from working together with him. You watched him, weren’t left to do much more; and you enjoyed it. Hyunjin wore a nicely fitting polo-shirt over a simple flannel, and loose jeans which hung down his body leisurely. One of his fingers was adorned by a simple silver ring, matching with the silver of his square glasses; he looked unbelievable, and he didn’t even know it. Over the past week – if it was any possible – Hyunjin had somehow become even more beautiful to you. Knowing him closer made his exterior seem brighter, kinder; as though his soul reflected on his body and pulled you in even deeper than previous.

When he noticed you staring from his peripheral he caught your gaze, though not without his usual shyness. He chuckled a little before you smiled at him, and his eyes lost yours again.

“Why’re you looking at me like that.” His voice carried a hint of a whine, and your skin burned at the sound of it. The side of his face was a deep pink, his ears fire as he typed away on the project. You gathered your bravery; today could be the last time you’d meet him like this, with an excuse and void of brave initiations.

“I like looking at you. You’re cute when you’re working.”

He hadn’t expected it, neither have you; you meant the words, but you were surprised just how easily they slipped past your lips. Without friction, smooth; clear. So clear that Hyunjin stuttered around before going back to the laptop, the blue hues illuminating his face so prettily, you wished to remember this sight forever. Even if today didn’t go anywhere. Even if your short friendship would only be a memory a year down the line; you wished to remember the way his eyes glistened with a mix of confusion and curiosity in the dim light of the laptop screen, how his nose curved beneath his reflecting glasses, the way his tongue darted out and his wet lips caught again the hues of the computer.

Hyunjin mumbled a quiet “What are you saying?”, almost to himself because you barely caught it, and you huffed out in amusement.

“I’m serious.” Your tone was, too, and it made Hyunjin look at you, momentarily. His brows were furrowed, in something like question, doubt. It needed him a while to find his words, fishing them from somewhere within him; you could see the work in his mind, processing your words and understanding them, thinking of a response. You saw the whole process, before he finally spoke.

“Why, though?” Too long a time he took for two words only, but they sounded so honest your eyes softened, and your head cocked a bit, questioning. Hyunjin noticed, and followed up.

“I’m, like, boring. Why are you even hanging out with me?”

“Because I like you.”

The words flooded the room. They had felt trapped in your throat though gushed out the moment you allowed them, and they drowned you both in their weight. Hyunjin only sat, and looked at you. You have never seen him so pale, so colourless; you hoped it was a good sign.

“I don’t think you’re boring. You’re the most interesting person I know. And I like you.”

Only then Hyunjin’s face returned to the usual colour he’d acquired around you over the past two weeks; crimson red and his ears flaming, his neck probably hot if you only touched it. The moments of silence he granted you with were torturing, but the look in his eyes as he held your gaze looked promising; and then his cheeks painted pink, and he started blinking excessively.

“I... I like you, too.”

Two highschoolers confessing, but something about it was sweet, and pure, and ignited a fire within you.

“Can I kiss you?”, you heard yourself saying, and before you knew it, you felt his lips on your own. Soft, the very first thing you thought. Like clouds on your lips, or feathers, or sweet cotton candy. And though Hyunjin wasn’t skilled per se, a little helpless with his teeth and his tongue, unsure of what to do, you enjoyed it. You enjoyed the slow pace of the kiss, the wet sounds your lips made when they touched. You enjoyed feeling his urge to touch you, to lay a finger on your thigh, before he collected enough courage to do so; and the touch was heavenly, too. Heavy on your body, significant and real. Everything about Hyunjin made you buzz; and then a whine slipped past his lips. It tumbled over into your mouth and you swallowed it, before Hyunjin could retract from you a bit, embarrassment glazing his eyes. You smiled in response, burning with a newly found passion now. He mumbled a quiet “Sorry.”, but you shook your head, softly, inching yet closer to him. You felt his breath on your lips, could see the droplet of sweat on his forehead. You could see your own reflection in his glasses; you took them off slowly before almost connecting back to a kiss, yet not quite.

“Don’t be sorry. I wanna hear that sound again.”

You closed the distance between you, and at your words Hyunjin complied, and let a sigh escape him. You almost reciprocated, almost followed suit; you had never heard anything prettier, anything more desperate and honest. You continued kissing him before you allowed your hands to explore his body, cautious of his reactions and even more eager when he leaned into your every touch. He was chasing you, your lips, your hands, your fingers which started playing with the loop of his leather belt. Hyunjin’s breathing had become staggered by this point, heavy and irregular, chest heaving so intensely you almost chuckled at it.

It was subtle, but when you felt his hips buck up from the mattress in impatient anticipation you moaned into him, and finally undid his belt, opened the button of his jeans. You retracted, gave a quick peck to his searching, reddened lips.

“That’s okay, yeah?”

Hyunjin didn’t seem like he had understood the question. He didn’t seem like he understood anything around him while he was looking at you; seeing him so very dumb founded, in absence of his usual cleverness and brains, was far better than you had anticipated, far more satisfying. It gave you an ego boost you didn’t know you needed, or wanted, for that matter.

You chuckled, and asked again; only then Hyunjin nodded frantically, following up with what felt like a million “Yes, yeah yeah, yes.”’s before you continued with a smug grin.

And it was adorable, seeing Hyunjin pucker his lips in the thought of feeling your lips on his again, only for you to lower your head, and bury your face in his neck instead. You felt his low whine against your lips before you heard it, and he sensed your smile against his skin, followed by a kiss deep and long, while your hands played with the waistband of his jeans. It’s been far too long he’d had anyone like this, embarrassingly long; and even longer since he’d liked someone as much as you. He was in trance as your lips travelled further down his body, not undressing him but catching bare spots of skin to plant kisses atop; his collarbones, the curve from his neck towards his shoulders, his jewellered chest right above the neckline of his shirt.

It wasn’t long before you were levelled with his core. Your position on the bed was awkward, a little uncomfortable, but it was the least of your concerns. You pulled up the hem of Hyunjin’s shirt a bit to kiss at his abdomen, teasing and licking and making a show out of it, and it paid off; the man was flush against the wall of his room, fingers digging into the blanket beneath him, looking at you, blinking so often you wondered if he was able to see anything in between. And you were getting impatient. You could feel the faint weight of his erection beneath his jeans as you brushed his core occasionally, his jerks and jumps when you did so, silently begging you for more. When you asked another “Can I?” he nodded, and you pulled his erection from its’ confines. Hyunjin sucked in a breath at that, bashfulness written in his eyes, brows furrowed; and he suddenly looked for something, tapping across his mattress before he got hold of his glasses, slipping them on. He blushed when you cocked your head at him, fixed them onto his nose with a finger; you loved that habit.

“Just, wanna see everything clearly.”

He was almost ashamed when he said it, but he huffed out in embarrassed amusement when he heard you laugh softly, teasingly. Your hand tightened a bit around the base of his sex, causing him to tense up at the sudden pressure, and your fist moved further up his length. You looked up at him beneath your lashes, intently, dark, almost. You gave a single kitten lick to his tip, gave him a kiss after before smiling up at his dizzied expression; “Watch, then.”

With that, you started softly sucking on his tip, cautiously and void of hurry, taking your time. You were languish with it, letting your tongue dart out and dance across his skin, swirling it when he moaned out or tightened his fist which held captive the fabric of his vanilla scented blanket. You didn’t know that watching him throw his head back would bring you the pleasure it did, but watching Hyunjin’s Adam’s apple beneath the soft, frail skin of his neck made you roll your hips into nothing, the sweat slowly forming on his skin made you flush and sigh against him. You took him deeper, engulfing him in your warm, wet mouth, inch by inch, getting used to his length, the feeling of his heavy veins against your tongue. And he was shy with his hands, placed them everywhere but on you; ran his fingers through his hair with furrowed brows, fisted the fabric of his jeans, or the softness of the blanket, or the pillow laying next to him. It wasn’t until he locked eyes with you, when he caught sight of a loose strand of hair framing against your cheek that he was courageous enough to reach out; Hyunjin moved the hair out of your face softly, delicately almost, held it then, his palm a nice feeling on your skull. And he kept it there. Stroking your hair, tightening around it when you hollowed your cheeks, when you sucked away the salty precum oozing out his angry tip.

You felt him at the back of your throat. He was bigger than you had expected, and his weight lay on your tongue, his tip grazing repeatedly at your uvula, by now sensitive and reddened, though you didn’t stop your antics. Not when the sounds he let roll off his tongue increased not only in volume but in desperation, whines so high pitched you couldn’t help but grin against him. You watched him, every of his movement; the way his glasses slid off his nose before he fixed them with a haste movement, quick and messy, making them sit slightly tilted; enough for you to notice, not enough for him to care. The strands framing his face starting sticking against the sweat forming on his forehead, his lip had developed a bruise from his repeated biting on it; he was a mess, heaving breath and breathless sighs, sweaty palm fisting at your hair in utter helplessness. And he could barely speak a word, could barely form a thought, yet opened his mouth nonetheless, only for words to fail him. He stuttered about, whimpered more than he succeeded to speak. You slowed down your pace, halted a little in the bobbing movement of your head, let your jaw rest to allow him to collect his mind. He looked down at you, urges so deep swimming behind his eyelids, and he breathed out shakily, licked his bruised-up lips.

“I’m so close.”

The words came out his mouth almost apologetically, breathless and quiet. He sat there, back against the wall, an utter mess, too beautiful to be real; lips spit-covered as he spoke, brows formed into one line, eyes glazed with every human emotion this planet granted.

“Do you have condoms?”, you whispered against him, your voice hoarse and weak, your throat sore. He hadn’t expected the words, but nodded after a moment of blushing, motioning to his nightstand with a cock of the head. You eyed him teasingly before shifting to open the drawer of his nightstand; packs of painkillers and coughing drops, looking old and unused. Pencils and other useless stuff before you spotted packs of condoms shoved into the very back, and you fished for one before meeting his eye again. You contemplated teasing him about it; you knew he wasn’t bringing girls over regularly – if at all – to his dorm room, so the small stack of contraceptions was all but adorable – Hyunjin was so very reddened though, and looking so very bashful already that you decided against it, and busied yourself with sliding off your jeans instead, leaving you to sit in front of him in your shirt and panties.

And he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Not much exposed but when you straddled him your thighs were everything his eyes ate alive, shyly placing his hot palms atop them, breathing in shakily when you giggled at him. You tore open the little plastic wrapping, slid on the condom after a confirming nod of his; and when you leaned in to kiss him, he reciprocated it with a depth before not shown, clashing against your mouth clumsily but so passionately that you couldn’t mind it. You shifted in your place, lips never stopping to eat up his own, until you hovered above his erection. He felt your warmth atop him already, bucked his hips up in impatience only for his tip to graze your clothed sex; you both moaned at the embarrassingly short contact, and it was your cue to sink down on him slowly. You weren’t prepped, but you were wet enough for him to slide in easily after pulling your panties to the side, taking him inch by inch, not hurrying, dragging out the scenery. You watched him all the while, and the sight was utterly priceless; blown-out pupils beneath his glasses, a longing so grand behind his lids that you couldn’t help but kiss him again. A deep kiss as you bottomed out on him, felt him endlessly inside you, and he whined into your mouth, loud and raw when you clenched around him.

“I’m not gonna last long.”, he breathed out when you leaned back again; he was too adorable. Looking almost guilty, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs desperately. You chuckled before placing another peck on his swollen lips – even more like clouds now, puffy and soft to touch – and rolled your hips against him. He groaned deeply, throwing his head back with a quiet thump against the wall, hands tightening on your body, as though trying to hold you in place. You felt him twitch inside you, felt him throb against your depth; he wasn’t lying, he wouldn’t last at all.

“I don’t care. Just enjoy yourself.”

With that you started riding him slowly, and softly, giving him an opportunity to collect himself, though it was to little use. He was whining, he was throwing his head back and forth, lulling to the side, he was losing control of everything around him; his glasses slid off his nose repeatedly, sitting so deep they dared to fall off, sounds so loud you wondered if people outside could hear what was happening behind closed doors. His neck was red, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes were closed so tight you wondered if it strained the muscles in his face; and you kept rolling your hips against him, chasing the feeling yourself, basking in the way he filled you out entirely. Basking in his sounds, in the sight of him, in the way he felt; this was better than what you had dared to dream of, and you hoped it would be yours for eternities to come.

It wasn’t two minutes, and not before you started bouncing up and down Hyunjin’s length slowly, with thighs strained and hips eager, that the man stuttered in his demeanour, bucking his hips so helplessly into your own, without much success in causing friction, simply to chase you, to chase the feeling, to come closer to you. And it wasn’t long after that when a whine so endearing, so frantic left his throat, and he came into the condom with a string of apologies and curses, and whispers of your name. You allowed him to ride out his high, moving against him in failed search of your own release, kissing at his neck and nibbling at the lobe of his ear, whispering reassurances, feeling his hands on your skin, his arms caging you in. His breathing was heavy, shaky, his eyes closed in exhaustion, or relief, or simple and pure pleasure when you leaned back again. You smiled to yourself, watching calmness take over him now; no nervousness now as you yet sat atop him, no awkwardness, only satisfaction, content.

When he opened his eyes and noticed your staring at him he blushed again, and upon remembering his softened sex inside of you he groaned lowly, twitching in his seat. He was sensitive, he was endearing; and for now he was yours. You smiled at him, and he reciprocated it shyly; you fixed the glasses on his nose, gave him a long, deep kiss. He basked in it, simply let you kiss him, let you run your hands through his hair. It wasn’t until you guided his right hand to your core he sucked in a breath again, upon feeling your warm wetness on his fingertips; and he looked at you with eyes wide open when you leaned back, and whined out again when you whispered; “Gonna show you how you can make me feel good, too.”

taglist: @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads-archived @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @binniesbang

#havent been into reading fic too much lately but this has reignited my interest #I am so obsessed with how you write hyunjin #I love this kind of soft and reactionary hyun #such a satisfying and enjoyable read!#chef kiss #hyunjin x reader #skz smut #lluna.p.rec

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llunapastell-reads · 1 year ago

Text

RASPBERRY PIE

minors dni. minho x fem!reader. 4k words content warnings. pet names (sweetheart, angel). mutual pining. sweet/shy reader. perv!minho. corruption kink. food play. dirty talk. oral (m rec.). soft!dom minho.

you bake your quiet neighbour a warm raspberry pie.

He's pretty sure he's utterly fucked from the jump – he finds himself attached so early he almost convinces himself you're a witch in disguise; that maybe he'd moved in next door to a creature designed to trap men like him. A siren, maybe. The sweetness was an act; all the soft tones and doe eyed looks were just a trick to lure him down beneath the waves.

He was determined not to drown.

And then you show up with the pie, a little flushed from working around a hot oven. It'd been 6 months – 6 months since he'd moved in, and as he opens the door to find you in an apron with little pink stains, a feeling of approaching and inevitable doom settles in his chest. Finally, you'd come to take him.

"Hi," you greet with a shy smile. "My friend brought me over far too many berries yesterday so..." you look down at the golden pie, carefully decorated and clearly still warm, "...well I made this. For you."

If he was wise, he'd politely decline, close the door, and never be faced with the reality of the sweet little siren in his apartment, offerings of temptation and all.

"For me?"

You look up at him through long lashes. "Do you like pie?" you ask. It's the way you say it, like if he doesn't you might genuinely hurt inside – like with a simple rejection of your offering, he had the ability to snuff out some little candle alight inside you.

"I like pie," he says.

Then you smile. Like it's the best news you've heard in weeks. "Oh, good."

He steps aside, his body betraying him. The siren enters with her warm pie and soft smiles – and he knows, unequivocally, that he's fucked.

He keeps his distance as you comfortably navigate to the kitchen to find a place for your offering. The apartments were all pretty much identical as far as he knew. The two on this floor, his and yours, were mirrored. He imagines that just on the other side of your joining wall, you took the same steps he did he each morning, in parallel.

You fiddle a little with the delicately placed raspberries atop the pie as he approaches from the other side of the island. You wear a tiny silver ring on one finger, much like one he wears on his own. He'd spotted it before, during short interactions in the elevator. He suppresses the urge to comment on it now, to ask if it meant anything to you.

He doesn't need to know you. He couldn't afford to. He was finding himself attached enough without it.

Then you pluck one little berry up in your fingers and bring it to your lips. He watches you. He watches you and he knows that he's walked willingly into a trap.

"Sweet?"

You look up. "Hm? Oh." You nod. "They're lovely. My friend gets them from this farm near his parent's place."

Friend. His. He sits in the feeling that stirs in his chest for a quiet moment. It's a rotten feeling. He doesn't like it at all.

"He brings them often?" he finds himself asking.

"Not at all. He just happened to come by after being there for a weekend. He doesn't go there often, I don't think." Your accompanying smile is almost enough to snuff out the rotten feeling before he has time to digest it. Almost.

Then he considers that this might not be the only pie. You may have made this other guy a pie just like it... maybe it was bigger, maybe you'd used the sweetest berries in his pie.

He kicks a cat toy across the floor as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, a little embarrassed by his own internal monologue. Witchcraft, turning his brain into mush.

"You have a pretty view."

He looks up to find you brushing your hands down your apron and rounding the kitchen island. You seem drawn to his floor to ceiling windows, a little moth to the light.

He follows.

"Mine isn't nearly this nice," you continue once he's standing beside you. "All I get is the construction site and a concrete wall." Then you close your eyes, head tilting back a little to let the sun's afternoon rays bathe your face. "Don't get the sun like this, either," you add, a little dreaminess leaking into your already sweet voice.

Oh, he's fucked.

"You like it?"

You blink up at him, eyes adjusting to the light again. "Hm?"

"I mean if you really like it, you're welcome over anytime, whenever." He wonders if this is part of your spell work, making him say stupid shit. Maybe he'd be better off if you were casting spells on him, if he had a reasonable excuse for being so fucking braindead. "For the sun," he adds, like it makes it better.

A small breath of laughter slips from your pretty lips. "It does get a little gloomy over there, on my side of the wall."

It was hard to imagine anywhere you were being gloomy.

"I should go," you continue after a short moment of comfortable silence, each of you basking in the sunlight. He really should appreciate that more, he notes. Then he considers the fact he'll associate this little patch of warmth with you each time he attempts such a thing.

"Sure," he says, following you from a safe distance to the door. "Thank you. For the pie."

"You're welcome."

Everything is fine. He's alone and he survived the encounter. Then he's faced with the pie. He stares down at it, warm and made with careful hands.

He plucks a berry off the top. He thinks of the berry you'd eaten in the same way.

Everything is fine.

He hesitates as he goes to pluck a second berry. Instead of lifting one from the crust, he presses the tip of his finger a little against the surface. Warm. He breaks through. His finger is coated in syrupy, red filling when he pulls it free. It's sugary sweet when he sucks it clean.

Shame. That's what he feels next. Because sweet gestures of neighbourly kindness should not trigger the kind of thoughts creeping their way into his head.

He wonders if the little siren's cunt is as warm and sweet as the little offering she brought him. He considers doing the right thing, having a cold shower and sitting in the morning sun with a slice of pie.

But apparently, today, and the day before, and every day for the past 6 months, Minho was not wise and he wasn't very good. Because he let the thoughts of his sweet little neighbour stew for months, and this is where it'd led him.

He stands there, one palm pressed flat on the kitchen counter, the other buried in his sweatpants, and he thinks of the sweet little siren with her sweet offerings, and he imagines sinking his hard cock into her warm, sweet cunt.

—

It's hard not to deflate entirely as you close your apartment door behind you. You'd expected too much from a single pie, you suppose. It would entirely out of character for him to ask you to stay for a slice, to take the opportunity to finally have a conversation longer than an elevator ride.

You sigh, dropping your forehead against the cool surface of the door. It helps a little. You're overheated, both from the cooking, the warm sun, and the heat that had bubbled up from the inside as the pretty - yet frustratingly reserved - man next door had watched you move about his space.

You hadn't lied, his apartment was far nicer than yours. You could imagine basking in that patch of sun any chance you had. You wonder if he does the same, if he sits there after a shower, chest bare and hair still a little damp - letting the sun warm his skin.

You leap back as a knock on the door jolts you out of your daydream. Sighing, you press your palm to your forehead - head thoroughly rattled - as you pull the door open.

Oh.

"Hi," Minho says casually. He's a little flushed compared to when you'd left him minutes earlier. He shouldn't be. There were no stairs between your apartments.

"Hello, again."

He glances over your shoulder, getting a clear view of your empty living room. "It is darker in here," he says, still casual.

"Oh. Mm, yeah. I miss your sun already."

His eyes fix back on you. Then he pulls his lip between his teeth slightly. He has something to say... something he won't say.

"Why'd you make me the pie?" he asks.

You blink. "I... had a lot of berries from-"

"Your friend. I know."

You're officially confused. His eyes drop down your dirty apron before returning to your face. "You only made one?"

"Is it bad?" you question.

He pushes some hair away from his eyes. "No," he says quickly. "No, it's... nice." His eyes sweep down your body again. "Sweet," he adds.

"I only made one."

His eyes jump to yours before a brief look of confusion flashes across his pretty face. He seems to remember his own question soon enough. "You didn't want to give it to," he gestures vaguely behind you, "your friend?"

"No," you answer simply. This entire interaction was drifting into territory you weren't sure you were ready for. If his questions got any more interrogative, you might find yourself wondering how to answer them in any other way than 'Oh, the pie? I baked it for you because I have a huge, embarrassing crush on you, even if you've seemed intent on not knowing me.'

"He doesn't like pies?" he asks.

You can't help following the path of his fingers as he fiddles with the chain hanging around his neck. They brush his skin as he strokes the metal back and forth.

"I... don't understand what you're asking me," you say as you pull your eyes from his neck. "Is something wrong?"

He readjusts his position in the doorway, pressing his hand to the frame and freeing you from the constant distraction at his neck. He leans over you a little like this.

God, he's pretty.

"You a witch?" he asks.

"I'm sorry?"

"Did you put something in it?" he continues, still leaning well and truly into your space. "Something to make me-" he cuts himself off, brows furrowing.

"Are you asking me if I poisoned the pie?"

His voice drops, like someone might overhear, despite you both being entirely alone on this floor of the building. "I'm trying to figure out why all I can fucking think about is how you might taste on my tongue."

Your head rushes, all the heat returning. Then your eyes drop to the floor.

"Look at me, sweetheart."

You don't. His shoes are safer. He was flirting. More than flirting. He wanted you.

His fingers guide your chin up, it doesn't take much, a nudge. "I'll leave if you want," he says. "Never mention it again. Just tell me what you want."

"Did you like it?" you find yourself whispering. "The pie."

His lips crack into a lopsided smile. It's tiny, but it's a smile. "Loved it, sweetheart. Sent me to heaven."

"Would you... would you like to come in?"

He nods.

You go to turn, to let him follow you. But then, instead, you take his hand and lead him in. He's warm. You imagine all the sun he gets over there must've absorbed deep inside him over time. Maybe he could leave some of it behind here for you - that heat might leak from him if your kept him here long enough.

He follows where you lead, his hand still grasped firmly in your own. You're not sure why you lead him to the sofa. You aren't sure what you're expecting next. It's why you find yourself simply standing beside the piece of furniture waiting for him to say something – to let go of your hand maybe.

Instead, his thumb begins brushing over your skin. He's quiet, seemingly unhurried to break the tension building.

"I asked my friend to bring the berries," you confess quietly, eyes focused on your interwined hands. Confessions were always so much easier with your eyes downwards. "I wanted to make something for you... specifically."

"Why's that?"

His thumb continues against your skin. He doesn't make you look at him like he had before.

"Because I... wanted you to - I wanted your attention."

You can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, "So you baked me a pie?"

"I'm good at baking."

"You are," he agrees. Then his other hand reaches for the hem of your apron. He rubs it between his fingers a little. "Messy though."

You look down at the patterned splotches, pink on white. Then he releases your hand, taking that warmth with him. He only allows you a few seconds to miss it though. That same hand snakes around the back of your neck, skin on skin.

Your eyes are drawn to his without thought.

"Are you always messy?" he asks.

You nod, chewing on your lip a little.

He seems pleased with your answer, a small hum escaping his throat. "I like messy," he says, sounding a little far away. "Do you like messy, sweetheart?"

Your eyes drop to his lips, a little stained from your pie filling. "Yeah," you breathe.

He tugs you towards him before your have time to suck in another breath, attaching himself to you like he's starved. You can't help gasping a little into his mouth as he presses you into him with a hand to your back.

Holy fuck. Surely you'd wake up slumped against the door any second. Maybe someone hadn't just knocked on the door. Someone had opened it and knocked you out and you were dreaming about your pretty, brown eyed neighbour.

He groans a little before taking your lip between his teeth. No. No you were definitely awake. "So sweet," he mumbles as he releases you, his breath ghosting over your wet lips. "Can I have you?"

–

It's hard to keep his head on straight as you look up at him with those big sweet eyes. Can I have you? His stomach rolls as he waits for you to say yes. Please say yes. 6 months of denial and he was desperate.

You'd made that sweet little gift for him. Just for him. His little siren.

Then you're pressing against his chest, forcing him down onto the sofa. He looks up at you, at the stained apron and the hair sticking a little to your temples from the time spent making his pie.

Then you lower yourself to your knees.

Oh, fuck.

Your hands only have to brush his legs for him to get the hint. He spreads them, allowing you to shuffle closer to him – settling between his thighs.

Then you look up at him. "Can I taste you?"

He's keeping you. His head drops back as he collects himself. Then, "You want my cock in your pretty little mouth?"

You nod, fingers pressing lightly into his thighs.

Minutes ago he was fucking himself into his own hand imagining how warm you'd feel around him. Now you're between his legs, lips wet, asking to taste him.

He's careful to keep his eyes on you as he frees himself, intent on catching each and every reaction you make – he's keeping it all.

You're a little hesitant as you reach for him. "You're good, sweetheart," he encourages. "Touch me however you like."

It seems to be all you need. In the next second your soft little hand is wrapping around his length. His head drops back again as his eyes close.

It's a mistake, closing his eyes. He's not prepared when your wet lips press to the tip of him, soft and warm. He groans, hand automatically making a home in your hair. He needs grounding. He needs –

Your lips wrap around him. His little siren was sucking his dick into her sweet little mouth. His hips jump a little. "Oh fuck, that's right. You're all warm for me."

You hum a little around him. Then, you take him deeper. Hot little tongue dancing over his sensitive skin.

"Good girl," he groans. "Take it for me, sweetheart." He resists the urge to spill himself right here, right against your tongue. "Hm? You taking it for me?"

His hips jump again as he fucks himself into your hot mouth, wet and sweet and just for him. You'd wanted his attention. You'd come for him. Just him.

"You mine?" he gasps as he forces his head up to look at you. "You gonna let me fuck you?"

Your lips pull off him slowly, a little suction at his tip sending his head spinning. "Do you want to?" you ask, lips swollen.

He leans forward enough to begin lifting you, encouraging you to climb into his lap. Each hand rests at your hips as you settle yourself there, his leaking cock pressed between you.

"So bad," he answers.

You shift a little in his lap. He imagines you squirming on his cock.

"Me too," you confess. It's quiet, like it's bad.

Sweet siren.

"Sit on me," he instructs. "Want you to bounce on me, sweetheart."

You eyelashes flutter as you blink a few times, processing, deciding. Then you shift, reaching up under your dress and tugging your underwear down.

Something in his stomach stirs when he realises you were leaving the rest on, apron and all.

You grasp him in a soft hand, guiding him beneath your clothes – then you sink down. He's transfixed by the little sound that escapes your lips as you take him in. That, and the way your cunt feels squeezing around him. He might have to keep you for fucking ever.

Hot and sweet and wet and better than he'd imagined as he'd fucked himself against his counter minutes earlier. Better than any of the scenarios he'd dreamed up over the months he'd spent thinking of his sweet little neighbour.

You fall into him with a sigh once you're full seated, cock buried deep.

"Doing so well," he says, hand squeezing a little at the back of your neck.

You mumble something into his neck in response. He can't quite make it out, but he swears, it almost sounds like a tiny 'thank you'. He has to keep himself from filling you at the thought of it.

His hands return to your hips. You must take it as a prompt because you lean back from him enough to begin lifting yourself off him and dropping again.

It's slow at first, a little swivel in your hips, grinding yourself down into him.

The apron prevents him from seeing how his cock looks slipping in and out of your little cunt. He hasn't even seen it, that sweet little hole between your legs.

Instead, he feels.

–

It makes sense that a man as pretty as him would have the prettiest cock. One you wanted to taste. One that would have you slippery and ready to take him.

There's this vein that throbs in his neck each time he drops his head back with a groan. His neck. God you want to lean forward and bite into it. But he might not be into that. Next time, you think. Or the time after that.

God you hope there's a next time.

His fingers dig into your hip as you sink all the way down again. It feels a little like he's resisting, holding back.

"Minho?"

His head lifts, eyes a little glassy as he blinks at you. "Hm?"

"You can fuck me," you tell him. "However you want. I want you to fuck me."

He blinks again. His fingers dig into your skin harder.

"Tell me when you wanna stop. Just tell me," he says.

You nod. Then he's leaning forward and tugging you against him. His lips press to your skin just at the crook of your neck.

Then you're falling. He falls over you. Then he lets go. He presses you into the couch cushions as he drives into you, hair falling over his face. He's even pretty like this, with parted lips and brows slightly furrowed.

Your skin slaps together as he fucks himself into you. Messy, he'd said. He liked messy.

That's what he gets as he continutes to drive into you, as you begin to drip around him, as he fucks that wetness into you and over your thighs and then the sounds it all makes.... messy.

"Wanna fill you," he mutters. "God, I wanna fill you so bad. Wanna fuck my cum into your sweet cunt."

You squeeze your eyes shut as he continues, overwhelmed.

"You can take it for me, angel. I know you can. Sweet little thing made just for me. I knew it." He's muttering so much you're hardly sure he even knows what he's saying. His fingers are almost painful as they dig into your skin, like he can't hold onto you hard enough.

"Fill me," you gasp.

He eyes lift from where you join together to lock on your face. "Yeah?" he asks, a slight croakiness breaking his words up a little. "I'll make you all warm and sticky inside, hm? Just like your pretty little pie? That sound nice?"

Oh god. There was something inside you, something made for this – for him. You knew this was going to ruin you forever.

"Please."

He falls over you, then he bites. He bites into you as he floods you full.

#lee know x reader #lluna.p.rec #absolutely brilliant from start to finish #raspberry minho you are legendary #jade you are legendary!!!#your depictions of minho are my absolute favorite of all time

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llunapastell-reads · 1 year ago

Text

can’t get you off my mind

all good love stories start with a drunk stranger, don’t they?

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fem!reader

genre: fluff, comfort

word count: 4k

it starts at a bar.

or really, it starts with a man at a bar. one that you’ve seen before in passing, a familiar face in a sea of more familiar faces. someone who you’ll later learn is one third of your best friend changbin’s production team, someone who you should have met years ago probably, someone who you would find is the perfect puzzle piece that fits into your jagged edges.

but right now, he is just a man at a bar with a beer in hand and a ridiculously dopey smile on his face.

“marry me, please,” he says, absolutely serious but it’s a bit diluted from the way his words were slurred around the edges. “or i’ll have to kidnap you.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow at him, his image swimming a bit as you turn your head to fully take him in. you’re not drunk, but youre a couple glasses of wine deep and you’re not known for being fully articulate whilst sober anyways.

“i swear i’m going to marry you,” he says, eyes wide as he looks at you. “you might be the most perfect person i’ve ever seen.”

you’re not overly fond of men you haven’t met hitting on you, but this one seems a bit harmless. if you ignored the part where he said he would kidnap you. at least he wasn’t grabbing onto you or trying to touch you - that would have sent your fist flying towards his face and probably a swift exit from the bar. it was a little weird that you didn’t find him weird, but in retrospect you must have known, even then.

“okay, listen,” you put your hands on your hips, giving him an unimpressed look. “if you find me when you’re sober, ask me again and maybe i’ll reconsider.”

“okay,” he nods, hair moving along with his movement like a puppy’s ears. “i can do that. i’ll find you, i promise. i’m gonna marry you, did you know?”

“so i’ve heard,” you roll your eyes, already feeling a bit fond about him. you didn’t think you’d meet him again, but you were sure that you’d look at this night with a fond smile later.

he sends you the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a person and scampers off, and you stand rooted to that one sticky spot in the bar for longer than you want to admit.

–

he’s in the back of your mind when you wake up the next morning, in a better mood than most - you never liked waking up early, it always took you a good hour and some coffee to be able to stand without grimacing. this morning though, you float around your apartment as you get dressed with a small smile on your face.

a cute stranger who kept his boundaries and called you perfect? that wasn’t something that happened often, at least not to you.

the floatiness followed you all the way through your morning routine until you found your feet stopping outside the coffee shop that you and changbin all but owned. you had no stock in it, but you’re sure that you supply them at least half of their revenue, you probably sit on their rickety chairs more often than your actual couch at home. this place has nursed you through every college class and job interview preparations and beyond, and if it ever closed you might lose time off of your life span.

your movements from the door to the counter to your usual seat were robotic, muscle memory taking over while your head did somersaults through the clouds. it’s only when you take the first sip of coffee, the bitterness and heat hitting your tongue in a delightful dance, that you notice it.

another man is sitting next to changbin. a man that looks awfully familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize why. it’s the man from the bar.

“changbin?” you keep your eyes on the other man as you direct your question at changbin, trying hard to keep your face neutral. “explain?”

“i’m chan,” the man interjects before changbin can answer, reaching his hand across the table for you to shake. it’s warm, his grip somewhere perfectly in the middle of too hard and too soft, and he lets go after an appropriate amount of seconds. despite the neutral passivity of the gesture, you feel something ignite within you, and it threatens to sputter out when you catch no spark of recognition in his eyes. was he that drunk last night that he doesn’t remember you? do his sober eyes not find you as perfect?

“he crashed at my place last night,” changbin’s voice filters through your turmoil, and you finally break away from chan’s gaze to level him with a look. “and he needed coffee, so i brought him along. chan, this is y/n, my best friend.”

the conversation that followed flowed more freely than the coffee dripping from the machines behind the counter, and you almost hate how much you like it. chan is a little goofy, the man from the previous night shining through moments of seriousness and rapt attention.

by the time you had to leave to go to work you felt like you knew him. you learned where he lived (close to you!), that he worked with changbin (he’s a producer!), and that he loved all animals but he adored dogs (he has one named berry!). just an hour of casual conversation had led to you needing more of him in every aspect of your life, but still in the back of your head lived the thought of him not remembering you from the night before.

changbin leaves first, citing some meeting he had to run to in the middle of a yawn, and when you were left with chan the embarrassment began to set in.

“i’m going to marry you,” he blurts out, startling you so much you almost jump out of your seat.

“what?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and disbelief combining into a confusing vortex within your head - was he going to go through this again? you didn’t know if your heart could take it.

“i mean, i remember you,” he says before you could awkwardly excuse yourself and commit to getting to work early for the first time in a year just to escape being in a room alone with him for much longer. “i’m sorry, i was just embarrassed. i didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of changbin.”

“oh,” your breath leaves you all at once and you slump into your chair, understanding hitting you like a train. “that makes sense? i think?”

“i’m going to marry you,” he repeats, a mischievous glint in his eyes, the boy from last night shining through. “one day. i’m going to do it.”

“take me on a date first,” you tease back, a genuine smile stretching across your lips when he laughs, a full bodied thing that drew in eyes from the patrons across the room. for once, you didn’t seem to care that others’ eyes were on you. he made you feel comfortable.

“what are you doing tomorrow?” his mouth turns upwards into a beautiful smile that you can’t help but return.

“eager, are we?” you open your phone, sliding it across the table with the new contact page open on it. “i’m free.”

“you’re the most perfect person i’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says, as serious and genuine as the way he had proposed to you last night as he taps his number into your phone. “sorry if i’m a bit desperate.”

“don’t apologize,” you take your phone back, making a mental note to text him later. “i like it, for some unearthly reason. you’re cute, chan.”

the sound of his delighted laugh follows your footsteps all the way to work.

—

he picks you up for your first date at noon, right on the dot. he wasn’t a minute late, a polite knock sounding through your apartment just as the hour turned, as if he had been waiting and watching the time outside the door.

god, is everything about this man endearing?

he’s wearing shorts and a light sweater, looking like something out of a posh magazine. his hair is curly and swept off his forehead and he’s wearing a smile with the most adorable dimples shining through.

he leads you to his car and you have to hold back an impressed whistle. you knew changbin and his team did well for themselves, the name 3racha all over the credits of songs on the radio, but this car was nice. you were going to have a talk with changbin about why he still drove the same beat up sedan he’s had since college but that was a thought for later. right now all you wanted to think about was the man who held the door open for you to slide into the passenger seat and was now holding your hand over the middle console.

“do i get to know where we’re going?” you ask, peering at the map open on his phone but it tells you nothing more than that your destination was 15 minutes away and that he had to make a right turn in one mile.

“it’s a surprise,” he says, voice a little nervous but it was masked with excitement. wherever he was taking you, you would be happy to be there if he was this happy the whole time.

four songs on the radio later, one of which you teased him for when he revealed that he wrote it, he was pulling into a parking lot illuminated by flashing colorful lights. he had brought you to the fair.

“i’ve never been to the fair!” you bounced a little in your seat, wriggling in excitement. “i’ve always wanted to go, how did you know?”

“lucky guess?” he shrugs, avoiding your gaze as he cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt.

“changbin told you, didn’t he,” you smile at the thought of chan asking his friend about what you’d like. it was cute, a word that you were probably exhausting when thinking about him even after a day of knowing him.

“yes, but,” he flushes, the tips of his ears burning red. “i asked him after i had decided to come here, just to make sure it was a good idea. i didn’t steal it from him.”

“hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours that he had yet to let go of in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. you didn’t know what brought him calmness yet, but you wanted to learn. you wanted to learn everything about him. “now, take me to the fair, bang chan. i was promised a date.”

he finally meets your eyes again and he’s grinning so happily that you feel like you had just won a prize. who needed a fair when you had your very own carnival game right here?

it turns out, you did. by the time the sun was beginning to set, your arms were full of various plushies that chan had won for you, each one earning him a hug and a kiss to his cheek. you treasured every single one, the fluttering in your chest when he stepped up to the booths to throw and shoot various things never ceasing.

“let’s go to the ferris wheel,” you tug at him with your free hand, thanking the skies when you see no queue there. “i bet the sunset looks beautiful from the top.”

he’s quiet when he follows you there and into the carriage, his thigh pressing against yours as he slides in next to you, but you don’t notice in your excitement. it isn’t until the wheel ticks to the top and stops that he grabs your hand again, trembling a little.

“chan? are you okay?” you ask, concern warping your voice as you turn towards him. your movement rocks the carriage a bit and he turns pale, ducking his head into your neck to hide.

“yeah, ‘m okay,” he murmurs, his eyelashes ticking your skin when he blinks his eyes shut. “just don’t like heights very much.”

“oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?” you cry out, jumping a bit and regretting it when you rock the carriage again. “nevermind that, what can i do? it’ll go down soon, you’ll be alright.”

“just keep holding my hand?” he squeezes your fingers lightly and your heart melts. you may have made a joke that he was just trying to trick you into holding his hand any other time, but the fear in his shaking body was real and you’d never tease him for that.

“of course,” you press a kiss to his hair, moving your other hand slowly to wrap around your intertwined fingers. the wheel begins to turn again, swaying the carriage as it descends. you keep your grip on his hand tight the entire time, all the way until you’re on your feet again on steady ground.

“i’m so sorry,” you begin to say, the horror of subjecting him to his fear creeping up now that the crisis has passed.

“i’m going to marry you,” he says, cutting off your apology and lifting your hands to his mouth so he could press a kiss to the back of yours. “no one’s ever been able to keep me that calm. thank you.”

you were left speechless after that and all you could do was smile at him, the ghost of it not leaving your face for the rest of the night.

–

your thirty first date with chan ends with you crying into changbin’s arms, utterly confused and the feeling of despair creeping up your veins. you had met him your cafe as you had done several times since the fair, but when you arrived he wasn’t there. he came late, dark storms in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw and you didn’t understand what had made him like that. the usual smile and twinkle in his eyes were missing, and when you and asked him about what was wrong he had snapped at you in a way you hadn’t been talked to in years.

you had left after that, brushing him off when his eyes had widened and he reached for you while calling out your name. you know that you should have given him a chance to explain, but at the time you were too hurt to consider it.

you made your way to changbin’s apartment without thinking, your feet taking you to safety before your head could catch up. changbin had taken one look at your face before wrapping you up in his arm, walking you to his couch so he could cuddle you properly while words spilled out of you like a leaky faucet. you felt like you were back in college, crying and blubbering over a boy who had rejected you at a party, and you hated it.

you didn’t notice changbin sending an angry text to chan, but the sound of changbin’s door opening with a bang startled you out of your tears. chan bursts in like a whirlwind, his hair sticking up at weird angles and a look of panic on his face as he takes you in. he reaches the couch in a few strides and falls to his knees in front of you, holding a crumpled bag from the cafe in his hand and taking your cheek gently into his other. his thumb wipes at the tear tracks there and you could practically taste the guilt emanating off of him.

“love, i am so sorry,” he starts, ignoring changbin when he scoffs at the apology. “i shouldn’t have snapped at you, i had no right to do that. i got some bad news this morning and i wasn’t feeling my best, and i should have been honest with you. i’ll never do anything like that again, please forgive me? i’ll do anything.”

it was more his voice than his words that did it - he sounded so desperate, like he was trying to hold

onto a ledge that was crumbling, threatening to hurl his body into eternal nothingness. you knew him, you knew he was sorry, and against your first instinct you trusted him when he said he wouldn’t do it again.

“is that an almond croissant?” you eye the bag in his hand.

“it’s two almond croissants,” he nods fervently, his hair swishing back and forth with the movement. you sit up, sliding out of changbin’s arms and onto the floor in front of chan. chan’s arms replace changbin’s easily when you lean into him, and it feels like coming home.

“it’s not like i have a nice couch you could be sitting on,” changbin mutters as he leaves, shaking his head fondly at the two of you before making himself scarce.

chan kisses you, cradling your head gently into his hands, and they’re so warm. he slides his lips against yours, slowly like he’s taking his time memorizing the planes of your mouth to commit to memory. even after kissing him dozens of times you still find new things to learn about each other.

“i swear,” he says, pulling away to meet your eyes. “i’m going to marry you, someday.”

“keep getting me croissants as apologies and we’ll see,” you say, sniffling into his neck.

—

your eighty seventh date was spent in your bed, your head spinning like both hands on a clock simultaneously and your body exuding more sweat than you ever have.

chan is wringing out a cool cloth to place on your forehead and it feels so nice that you moan.

“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and chan has lost count of the amount of times you’ve said it at this point. “we had a date and i ruined it.”

“we were going to see a movie,” he says, running a hand up and down your spine. “and we will. we don’t need a movie theater when we have a screen right here, hmm?”

“but the popcorn,” you complain, closing your eyes in bliss when he runs a hand through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. an apology for being so sweaty was at the tip of your tongue but you hold it back in favor of enjoying the feeling of his touch.

“i’ll make you all the popcorn you want when you’re feeling better,” he promises, dropping a kiss to the side of your head. “for now, how does soup sound?”

“popcorn soup?“ you ask, a wave of dizziness taking over your body; if you weren’t lying down already, you’re sure that too would be falling over.

“yeah, baby,” and even in your delirium the fondness in his voice was prominent. he couldn’t hide it even if he tried. “i’ll make you some popcorn soup. get some rest okay?”

you’re asleep before he leaves the room, and you only wake up when he shakes your shoulder a bit and helps you into an upright position. he feeds you bites of what is definitely not popcorn soup after putting a movie on your laptop, the screen sitting at the foot of your bed. the both of you fall asleep before the movie finishes, but you don’t mind.

he stays with you for days, making you soup and tea and toast and feeding you medicine and being an all-around angel as he nurses you back to health. by the time you’re better you think you’ve fallen back in love with him several times.

as you had expected and warned him about, he catches your sickness the next week, and now it’s your turn to be his nurse. you try and do the same job he did, but his delirium seems worse. the silver lining is that his fever isn’t as bad, so you’re babysitting a babbling boyfriend more than a sick one.

the night before his fever breaks is the worst, since he doesn’t even recognize you. you shake your head at his silliness when he asks who you are and calls you pretty. you smile when he takes your hand in his and asks you to come closer.

you tear up when he tells you that he has a girlfriend that he loves very much and so even though you’re pretty he can’t do anything else because his girlfriend is the prettiest one in the whole world. you let a tear slip when he tells you that he can’t wait to propose to his girlfriend and that he’s going to marry her someday.

you tell him that you have a boyfriend that you're going to marry someday, trusting that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

—

your hundredth and fifth date was not unlike your fifth, or your tenth, or your ninetieth. two and a half years later, you were just as endeared by him and he was just as obsessed with you - even more so, if it were possible.

he takes the time to tell you how gorgeous you look when he picks you up just like he does on every date, and you hide your disgustingly fond smile for him behind his back like you do every time you see him.

he parks and runs around the car to let you out like he does every time you habit this restaurant, a little fancier than your usual best but it was a favorite of the both of yours - across the street from the bar the two of you had met at.

you start walking before he does, letting him jog to meet you and complain about how you left him, just like you do every time. before him. you might have thought the monotony would have gotten tiring, but he had a fantastical ability to make every moment feel like the first despite their practiced nature.

he calls your name from behind you right on schedule and you hum in acknowledgement, turning towards him absentmindedly. the second you lay eyes on him you’re completely alert, though; he isn’t jogging after you, but rather he’s kneeling on the sidewalk, a small box in his hands as he smiles up at you.

“i’ve told you that i’m going to marry you more times than i can count,” he starts, eyes shining like the stars twinkling in the night sky above you. “but this time i’m asking you.”

“chan,” you choke out, hands coming up to cover your mouth as it quivers. tears spring to your eyes and you silently curse yourself - you always thought you’d be level headed when you got proposed to, but nothing could have prepared you for this, not even the thousands of declarations he had made to you prior.

“i love you. you’re the only one in the entire universe that i need more than blood or breath, you’re the song that runs through my heart and the fire that leads my path when i’m lost,” his voice is thick, like he’s trying to hold back his emotions long enough to get his words out. “i never thought that i would feel so strongly for someone, i never thought that i deserved a love like this until i met you.”

he pauses as you walk closer to him, letting you approach him before he continues.

“my love, my eternal light,” he’s tearing up now, blinking fast to keep the salty water at bay. “will you marry me?”

“chan,” you start, kneeling down next to him and taking his wrists in your hands. “i never told you this, but ever since that first day i knew. i knew that the drunk idiot that was hitting on me would be my husband.”

he chuckles, smiling delightedly as the tears finally spring from both of your eyes in unison.

“so?” he trails off, searching your face with his eyes, waiting.

“oh!” you tighten your grip on him in an apology. “of course i’ll marry you, gosh i love you so much.”

#stray kids fluff #bang chan imagines #this was so sweet and a very enjoyable read #I love this chan sm!#lluna.p.rec

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