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defmaybe · 2 months ago

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She’s American

LE SSERAFIM’s Huh Yunjin and MEOVV’s Lee Gawon x Male Reader

2.8k words

Title Inspired by The 1975’s She’s American

A/N: Part of @woollypoison's prompt event! The ending's a little rushed lol, sorry about that.

—

Being a gold-badge tennis umpire is, obviously, not simple, especially when you're the youngest one to ever do so. (The entire neighborhood came over to your house to celebrate upon the announcement.) Sure, the federation give you the women's matches. It's shorter during the Grand Slam, they said, but the sheer concentration needed is still pretty damn daunting. It took some time before those raised-by-television ticks are gone, but you made it, eventually.

Before every match, you have to learn about your players—style of play, cultural background, temperament. You've seen the racquet breakers. You've seen the profanity merchants (yes, you can curse in over twenty languages, that's one of the perks). You've seen the sweet-mouths. A lot you've come across during the first year you've officiated, and that has expanded your worldview by a lot.

—

A grunt, service.

The tennis ball bounces off from the racquet, flying over the net to the other side. Your eyes follow, fingers tapping on the armrest. It ricochets off the acrylic surface once.

A groan, forehand groundstroke.

The ball darts back to the opposite side. It hits the ground once; the sound echoes through the court. The seats are filled. There has never been any vacancy from the semi-finals onwards. The crowd is silent during the rally, locking their eyes on the ball. They are composing themselves well.

A cry, two-handed backhand.

The players' benches are full of belongings—towels, spare racquets, water bottles. Both of them don't seem to be the dazzling type with their possessions. The clouds make way for the not-really-summer-but-not-quite-autumn sun to stare down at the people below. Glistening skin. Loud breath. Squinted eyes. That's New York September for you.

The rally goes on. Both women voice with each of their hit. The sounds of the shots intersect with the movements. Your eyes focus on the ball intently, watching for an error. The ball seems to handle itself well, though, always landing inside the lines. It's probably twenty strokes already.

Then, a slice. The green ball floats awkwardly over the net. It lands inside the service box, bouncing forward shorter than it should. Loud thuds of the steps reverberate through the arena. A reach, defended. It flies over the net, albeit weakly. Then, a sprint. A slide. A remarkable volley. Oh, no chance of defending that.

"Forty, fifteen," you announce, and an applause follows.

—

Now, the benefits of being a gold-badge umpire aren't as prestigious as everyone makes it. You still have to cover the expenses for your trip first. The food is edible. There's no protection from the dipshit players on the courts. The salary is pretty much what you'd expect from a standard job. It's not that great.

You get this, though, at least.

Gawon's head is thrown back as your tongue drags along her neck, gathering the saltiness of her post-game sweat. Being slightly shorter than her makes it easier to do so. The nape is at your tongue level. Her body shudders every time your flesh plants itself on her skin, accompanied by a guttural groan with each lavish. The scent of her is overwhelming, yet so intoxicating. A hint of that player. What's her name again?

That doesn't matter, just lick Gawon's neck.

On your back, Yunjin digs her hand under your shorts, running her fingers along your perineum, starting from the base of your balls to the rim of your asshole. You spasm with each touch, barely controlling your moans from reaching the outside of this damp, heated locker room. Her tongue laps the side of your neck, savoring the late summer taste on your skin. No player is going to have the Tropical Boy title, because this young little referee is having it.

"You do this often?" Gawon asks, fingers digging into your scalp. She cut her nails, obviously, a standard for athletes.

"Once a month," you huff. It's an honest answer, just that you don't know how to classify it as: usually or sometimes or seldom. It's definitely frequent enough for you to come across an array of female players, at least.

"Slut," Yunjin scolds. Her hand grips on your balls tightly, making you squirm between the women. And of course, she giggles.

Gawon yanks your head away from her neck, boring her eyes into yours. There's nothing but lust on her face—the wanting eyes, the shaky breaths, the lip lick. Yunjin's still on your neck, getting that saline dripping down your skin from sitting in place for two hours, lazy ass. Her grip on your testicles loosens, going back to teasing your taint and keeping you on the edge.

Suddenly, Gawon presses her lips on yours, a little chapped. Her hand grips your hair ever so tightly, burning your scalp with her sheer force. The pain is always worth it, of course—mixing your sweats together, tasting that body salt lingering on your players' bodies, inhaling the scent of their perseverance from the last two hours. You're so much of a whore for it.

Yunjin pushes forward, teasing the edge of your boxers along with your shorts, threatening to pull them down in a single swoop. She runs her fingers towards your front. Oh, how you shudder when she grabs your length from the back. Yunjin then starts to rub your cock softly, all while planting her tongue on the back of your neck.

"I wonder what ITF would say if they know that one of their umpires is a sweat-obsessed whore," Yunjin coos, making sure to take a swipe at the tip of your cock. Your frame jolts in response. You know she's smiling, she always does.

You can feel Gawon slightly grinning against your lips, a more devilish one than that of Yunjin's. Her tongue attacks the inside of your mouth so easily, making you melt within her embrace. She's just so good at this. The sloshing sound of the kiss rings inside your ear. It's pretty ugly, nothing majestic like in the movies, but it feels like heaven.

Her hands slide into the space between you and Yunjin, landing on your plump ass. Gawon then gives the pair a squeeze, and you can only moan softly under the kiss. How nice it feels to be handled like this, and she shoots back at you, "God, your ass is just so, ugh, fuckable. Fucking dump truck of an ass."

Again, you just whimper whorishly into her mouth.

In a sudden, Yunjin pulls your garments down. They pool idly at your ankles. Your cock springs free in front of Gawon, so excited, as sweat falls onto the ground. Gawon hastily wraps around your cock with her gorgeous hand—long fingers, cut nails, rough palm. It's everything you want in a player—proper for a threesome session. Gawon takes a swipe on your tip, and this time, you feel the cold of your arousal smearing your head.

"Such a slut," Gawon sneers against your lips, rubbing the top of your cock with her thumb. She then pulls back from the searing kiss, taking a look at your twitching length in her hold. "A referee shouldn't be this leaky. You need more self-control."

"There are no regulations on that," you retort, shrugging. "You don't like leaky dicks?"

From behind, Yunjin is observing the exchange. She laughs occasionally at your banters, intersecting with licks on your neck that make you shudder.

"Too easy to be exploited. You'll sway too easily," Gawon says sternly, but she lets go of your hair, kneeling. Her hands rake on your shirt as she moves down your body, until her face is just right in front of your cock. The intoxicating scent of her body is gone, but your cock in her mouth is a pretty good exchange.

At the same time, you can feel the absence of Yunjin's tongue, replaced by the hot breaths against your ass. She spreads your cheeks open slowly, exposing your heaving hole to the heat.

"Yum."

And Yunjin's tongue dive into the between of your plumpness, tasting the fever that has been building up for the last few hours. You cover your mouth tightly as the wet flesh touches the rim of your asshole.

Gawon says nothing, instead envelops your cock with the warmth of her mouth. She makes sure to keep her tongue dragging against the underside of your shaft—more cum upon orgasm this way.

Your hands press onto the back of the women's heads, burying them in your sweaty body. Oh, to have your cores stimulated like this. You wish you could just do this fucking forever.

—

It's a wonder how nobody has come into this room for the last … how long has it been?

The room is definitely hot enough to keep Yunjin's body sweating. God, the smell of her cunt is just the fucking best. Your hand grips onto the side of her thick thighs. Her skirt blinds you from your surroundings completely. The inner shorts are gone; she might give them to you if your tongue is good enough. To wake up every morning and inhaling in her essence is just—

"Your tongue is just the fucking best, baby," Yunjin rasps, gyrating her hips on your mouth recklessly, spreading her tartness on your lips as you lie on the bench. Her hand grips onto the top of your head. You feel the crushing weight of her body on your lips. No relenting, of course. You're eating her pussy until she becomes a fucking faucet.

Yunjin isn't the only one who's enjoying your body, though.

Gawon's hand presses hard on your ribs, all the while impaling her pussy with your throbbing dick over and over. You feel her skin tremble on top of your chest—rhythmic. It's thrumming through the dust surrounding you. Her walls clench and heave and contract around your manhood. There's not a single ounce of oversensitivity plaguing beneath your skin after that dumping inside Gawon's mouth. Fuck, it feels too good. Those moans are a song—stuttered, airy, yet so consistent. Her shorts are probably somewhere in the room. You're being a good boy; she'll let you take it home. Your frame is taking a lot. But if that means your cock will pulse inside Gawon's cunt, and your tongue will dance on Yunjin's clit, you're more than happy to trade in your remaining years.

"Whore."

Gawon's word spurs you on, of course, and Yunjin is the victim of it. Your tongue works harder on Yunjin's swollen nub—sucking, nibbling, tugging on it. Your fingers penetrate her tight asshole with ease; the sweat helps a lot, and Yunjin can do nothing but convulsing on top of your face.

"Fuck, baby," Yunjin whines. Her clit pulses against your tongue in that rapid tempo you've always known. "Your mouth can do more than calling for outs, huh?"

She's close.

You don't reply, now pushing with your tongue into Yunjin's cunt. Your nose presses against her hair. She cries out in ecstasy, trembling and writhing on top of your head. Your thumb moves towards rubbing her clit frantically. Her moans grow louder and more chaotic with each passing second. You're ready to take her nectar, all of it, mixed with her filthy sweat, and you're going to love it.

Gawon ups her ante, grinding on your cock even faster. Her sweat falls on your dampened body, marking you as hers (co-opted with Yunjin). You're doing well, almost perfectly even, judging by those frenzied moans leaving her lips. The room is just their moans at this point, and you're more and ecstatic that they're the product of your doing.

"Mmm, yes, I'm fucking close, baby," Yunjin shouts. The slickness of her nectar and athletic filth drips down your cheeks. You're definitely not washing your face for a few days. Her tempo reaches its peak. Your lips can barely catch her movement, and she's not going to stop until she cums.

"Don't you fucking dare leave me behind, slut," Gawon huffs, slapping your waist to remind you of her presence. It's like you're forgetting her. She's lighting your nerves aflame! "Better breed me with this baby batter."

No pulling out.

Yunjin's moan climbs the scale. Her hold on your head trembles. She's going for it—to use your face as her canvas—and you're going to let her do it.

"Fuck!"

From your experiences, Yunjin's mouth is going to make an "O" shape. Her eyes will roll up in pure bliss. Maybe her tongue will even loll off her lips. You're pretty certain of those.

Though, what is definitely going on is her folds gushing clear liquid on your face. Her entire frame is shaking, spasming in a certain rhythm. You open your mouth wide, taking in her taste. It's saline, a unique kind of saline, and it's fucking delicious. Oh, you're drinking her filth gleefully.

"Drink it, baby, fuck, and tell me what it tastes like."

Yunjin continues to ride your face away with no caution. The spurts slowly subside. Shame. You cling on to the last remnants of her essence desperately, so eager to drink in as much as you can. Your tongue reaches for her core, getting that heavenly taste from the source. When the cascade stops, you can only lap at her sensitivity, and Yunjin lets out an wild wail, unable to stand against your lavishing any longer.

"Baby, baby, I-I can't …" and Yunjin detaches herself off your needy mouth. A string of something stretches between your lips and her wetness. God, you're such a whore for her pussy.

Light hits your eyes again, letting you watch Gawon's elated face. Her head tilts up. Her eyes are shut. Her mouth opens slightly, letting out those sinful moans and have them bounce off the walls. She's hugging you tightly with her walls, attempting to coax another wave of cum out of your balls.

"That was good," Yunjin says on your side. Her sweat falls down on your frame as she wipes her forehead with her hand. Indeed, you stick your tongue out for her taste. A little difficult with Gawon riding you, though.

"You really are a sweat slut, aren't you?" Yunjin coos, before kneeling down close to you. "Open your mouth, then."

She then hovers her sticky fingers over your mouth, slowly descending into it. The salty taste of her skin hits your tongue as you wrap your lips around her digits. And god, she just tastes so fucking good. You really are a whore for it.

"Bitch," Gawon huffs. Each contact of your thighs reverberates through the steamy room. Your body strains and jerks under her. Yunjin's fingers are silencing you, at least, lessening the risk of people entering.

Gawon's signs intensify. Her moans reach higher notes. The arms on your ribs are trembling. Her breathing quickens. She's close.

Gawon is not the only one close to bursting. You can feel the pulsing of your cock within her cunt. Your lips suckle on Yunjin's fingers more and more fiercely. That familiar feeling is building up inside your loins. You're close.

"I-I'm cumming, Gawon," you rasp with Yunjin's finger inside your mouth. Your hands go for Gawon's lean waist, brushing your thumbs against the lower swell of her chest.

"Don't fucking pull out. Don't fucking pull—"

The first of her juice touches your skin. Her face lights up in ecstasy—mouth agape, eyes shut, breathing halts. The entire body of hers freezes, unable to find any word to describe the state of her own heaven. Her cut nails dig into your flesh harshly. Oh, she's loving this. She's loving your cock.

You follow suit. The second orgasm of the day crashes over your body. You writhe under the immense pleasure, cock pulsing inside the warm, velvety walls of Lee Gawon's cunt. Your eyes roll to the back of your head with Yunjin's digits inside your mouth.

"My goodness, it's coming out so much. It's hitting my womb so well," Gawon sings.

You gradually come down from your peaks, moans grow quieter and quieter. Gawon merely sits on you with a cock inside of her pussy, drizzling globs of cum into her wet, pretty insides. You just bred her good.

Yunjin pulls her fingers out of your mouth, leaving you feeling empty again. Gawon lifts herself off you, sending that oversensitivity all over your body. Strings of your sticky cum connects your cock and her puffy cunt. What a sight.

"Since you bred me a little too good, I'll give you my sweaty, smelly shorts. How does that sound, huh?" Gawon asks. Your cock leaves her with a small pop.

"Mine too," Yunjin adds. "Don't wash it, baby."

This is one of the easiest questions you've ever gotten in your life.

"Sure."

—

#yunjin #gawon #le sserafim #meovv #yunjin smut #gawon smut #le sserafim smut #meovv smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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rafedarling · 5 months ago

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𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

summary: drew has always been the one to initiate intimacy, usually under the soft glow of night. but this morning, you decide it’s your turn to show him just how much you adore him.

warning(s): english is not my native language. smut, minor dni, p in v, fingering, masterbate.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist.

You lay there, propped up on one elbow, watching Drew’s chest rise and fall in the gentle rhythm of sleep. His face was peaceful, his lips slightly parted, his dark hair tousled against the pillow. He looked so beautiful. And yet, your mind was elsewhere… somewhere far less innocent.

You’d been thinking about this for weeks. Drew was always the one who initiated things at night, his hands roaming, his voice low and teasing as he worked you into a frenzy.

But today?

Today was your turn. The thought sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted to surprise him, to take control, to show him just how much you’d been craving this.

Carefully, you slid your hand under the sheet, your fingers brushing against his bare thigh. Drew always slept naked, something you’d come to adore. The warmth of his skin against yours made your breath hitch. You bit your lip, your heart pounding as you let your hand drift higher, your fingertips grazing the base of his cock. It was soft for now, but you knew how quickly that would change.

God, he felt so fucking good.

You couldn’t help but smile as you wrapped your fingers around him, giving him a slow, teasing stroke. He stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping his lips, but he didn’t wake.

Not yet.

You squeezed gently, feeling him begin to harden in your hand. The sensation made your own body ache with need, but you forced yourself to focus. This was about him. About making him feel just as good as he always made you feel.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear.

“Drew,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Wake up for me, baby.”

He groaned softly, his body shifting as he began to rouse. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he just stared at you, confusion clouding his sleepy gaze.

And then he felt your hand, still wrapped around him, still stroking him so slowly, so deliberately.

“Y/N…”

His voice was rough with sleep, his eyes darkening as he looked at you.

“What are you doing?”

You grinned, your hand never stopping.

“Hmm, I don’t know, Drew,” you said, your tone teasing.

“I just thought I’d give you a little morning surprise.”

His breath hitched, his hips twitching as your hand moved faster. You could see the way his body tensed, the way his cock hardened completely in your grasp. It was intoxicating, the way he reacted to you, the way he couldn’t hide just how much he loved this.

You didn’t give him a chance to respond. Instead, you leaned down, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock.

He let out a strangled moan, his hips bucking as you wrapped your mouth around him. The taste of him, the warmth, the way he throbbed against your tongue, it was everything.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hand tangling in your hair.

“Y/N… God, you feel so good.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making him swear under his breath. Your tongue swirled around the tip, your lips sucking gently as you worked him deeper into your mouth. His hips moved instinctively, but you kept him still with one hand on his thigh, your other hand still stroking the base of his cock.

“You like it, baby?”

You asked, pulling back just enough to speak, your lips brushing against him as you did.

Drew nodded, his eyes half-lidded, his chest heaving.

“I love you,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“I love it when your mouth’s wrapped around me. It’s… fuck, it’s perfect.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth again. He let out a strangled squeak, his body jerking at the sudden sensitivity. You could feel how close he was already, the way his muscles tensed, the way his cock twitched against your tongue. But you didn’t want him to cum yet. Not yet.

You pulled back again, your hand replacing your mouth as you stroked him slowly, teasingly. Drew groaned, his head falling back against the pillow.

“Y/N… please. Don’t stop.”

“Oh, I’m not stopping,” you said, your voice low and teasing.

“I just want to play with you for a little while. Is that okay?”

He nodded, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

“Yeah. Yeah. Just… don’t stop.”

You grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to his thigh.

“Good boy.”

And then you took him into your mouth again, your hand moving in time with your lips, your tongue swirling around the tip of his cock. Drew’s moans filled the room, his hands clutching at the sheets as you worked him closer and closer to the edge.

You could feel it, the way his body tensed, the way his cock throbbed in your mouth. But you didn’t stop. Not even when he came, his cum hitting the back of your throat.

You swallowed, your lips still wrapped tightly around him as you kept sucking, kept stroking. Drew’s body jerked, his hips bucking as he tried to pull away, but you held him still, your hand tightening on his thigh.

“Y/N… please. I can’t… I can’t take it,” he begged, his voice breaking.

You grinned, pulling back just enough to look up at him.

“You sure about that, baby?” you asked, your tongue darting out to lick the tip of his cock.

“Because I think you can take a little more.”

Drew cried out, his hands tangling in your hair as you took him into your mouth again.

You pulled back slowly, your lips releasing him with a soft, wet sound that made Drew shudder. His chest was heaving, and his eyes were glazed with pleasure, but there was a hunger in them too a hunger that mirrored your own. You didn’t want to stop here. You wanted more.

“Drew, I need you.”

His gaze snapped to yours, and for a moment, it felt like the air in the room shifted, charged with something electric.

You didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, you reached down, your fingers slipping under the waistband of your panties. You hooked your thumbs into the fabric, pulling them down slowly, deliberately, letting him watch every inch of skin you revealed. Drew’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you.

You knelt on the bed, your knees sinking into the mattress as you positioned yourself in front of him. Your hand trailed down your body, brushing over your stomach before dipping between your thighs. Your fingers found your clit, and you let out a soft moan as you began to rub slow, teasing circles. You could feel Drew’s eyes on you, his gaze burning into your skin as he watched you touch yourself.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire.

You didn’t respond, too focused on the pleasure building in your body. You slipped a finger inside yourself, your wetness coating your hand as you moved in and out, your movements slow and deliberate. You could feel yourself getting hotter, your pussy clenching around your fingers as you worked yourself closer to the edge. When you pulled your hand away, it was slick with your arousal, and you couldn’t help but smile as you saw the way Drew’s eyes followed the movement.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice low and husky.

“So fucking wet for me.”

“Only for you, daddy,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

He moved then, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you toward him. His breath was hot against your skin as he leaned in, his tongue tracing a slow, teasing path up your thigh. You gasped, your hands gripping the sheets as his mouth found your clit, his tongue lapping at you with a rhythm that made your head spin. He was relentless, his hands holding you in place as he devoured you, his tongue flicking and circling until you were moaning, your hips bucking against his face.

“Drew… oh god, Drew,” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He didn’t stop, his tongue pushing inside you as he worked you toward the edge. You could feel the pressure building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your stomach until it snapped, your body shaking as you came, your cries of pleasure filling the room. Drew didn’t let up, his tongue continuing to stroke you through your climax until you were panting, your body trembling with the aftershocks.

When you finally managed to catch your breath, you reached for him, your hands pushing him back onto the bed. You straddled his hips, your wet pussy hovering over his cock as you looked down at him. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his breath coming in short, ragged pants as he watched you.

“My turn,” you said, your voice low and sultry.

Lowered yourself onto him slowly, his thick cock stretching you as you took him inch by inch. You groaned, your head falling back as he filled you completely, your walls clenching around him. You could feel every ridge, every pulse of his cock inside you, and it made you shudder with pleasure. You moved your hips, grinding against him as you started to ride him, your movements slow and deliberate.

“Fuck, y/n… you feel so good,” Drew groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he watched you move.

You leaned forward, your hands resting on his chest as you quickened your pace, your pussy tightening around him with every thrust. His hands moved to your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples and sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You moaned, your hips rolling against his as you lost yourself in the rhythm, the pleasure building with every movement.

“You like that, baby?” you asked, your voice breathless.

Drew nodded, his eyes locked on yours.

“God, yes… you’re so fucking tight.”

You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, and you knew he was close. But you weren’t done yet. You wanted to push him over the edge, to make him lose control. You leaned back, your hands resting on his thighs as you increased your pace, your pussy clenching around him as you rode him harder, faster. You could feel the tension building in your body, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.

“Drew… I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, your voice trembling.

He didn’t respond, his hands gripping your hips as he thrust up into you, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. You cried out, your body shaking as you came, your pussy pulsing around him as waves of pleasure washed over you. Drew groaned, his hips bucking as he thrust into you one last time, his cock pulsing as he spilled himself inside you.

You collapsed onto the bed beside him, your body still trembling with the aftershocks. Drew turned to you, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from your face as he looked into your eyes.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe.

You smiled, your hand resting on his chest as you felt his heartbeat slowing beneath your palm.

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” you said softly.

“You did,” he replied, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss.

You shifted, moving so that you were lying on your side, Drew’s arm wrapped around you as you pressed your back against his chest. His cock was still inside you, and you could feel it twitching as it softened. His other hand moved between your legs, his fingers brushing over your clit in slow, teasing circles that made you shiver.

“Drew…” you whimpered, your body still sensitive from your orgasm.

“Shh,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear.

“Just relax, baby. Let me take care of you.”

You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the sensation of his fingers on your clit, his cock still buried deep inside you. It was overwhelming, the pleasure building again as his hand moved faster, his fingers pressing harder against your clit. You could feel yourself getting closer, your body trembling with the need to cum again.

“Drew, I’m gonna…” you started, your voice breaking as the pleasure crested.

“Come for me, baby,” he whispered, his voice husky and low.

You cried out, your body shaking as you came again, your pussy clenching around his cock as waves of pleasure washed over you. Drew held you close, his arms wrapping around you as you rode out the waves of your orgasm.

Lay there, his cock still inside you, his hand still stroking your clit. You were exhausted, your body limp and boneless, but you didn’t want it to end. You wanted to stay like this forever, wrapped in Drew’s arms, feeling the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

“I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your shoulder.

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice soft and sleepy.

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey smut #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey one shot

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adelar-storytime · 1 year ago

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OC questions

60 questions that can be made into an OC ask game, or you can just fill everything out yourself to get to know your character a little better :)

___

[1] What first impression do they typically make? Are they likeable from the get go, or take time to grow on people?

[2] How does their social personality differ from how they act when they’re alone?

[3] What emotion is the hardest for them to deal with?

[4] How physically and emotionally affectionate they are?

[5] Are they good at keeping secrets?

[6] How direct are they in conversations, do they speak in hints and riddles or bluntly say what they think?

[7] Are they a good liar, and what would they probably lie about?

[8] How open they are about their true feelings, both positive and negative?

[9] What is their love language?

[10] How quickly do they fall for someone?

[11] What are small things that make them happy?

[12] How high is their self-esteem?

[13] What kind of sense of humor do they have, if any?

[14] What does it take to make them laugh, and what does their laugh sound like?

[15] How do they act around people they don't like?

[16] Do they easily rely on others to help them out, or prefer doing everything themselves?

___

[17] What is their biggest struggle that no one around them is able to understand or believe?

[18] Do they ever have to hide their identity and for what reason?

[19] If they could change one thing about their past, what would they change?

[20] When they’re sad or upset, do they need company or some time alone?

[21] When they’re sick, would they want others to visit and take care of them, or they would rather prefer not to be seen at not their best?

[22] Do they have nightmares, and if yes, when did they start and what are they usually about?

[23] What was the worst, the darkest period of their life that they have been through?

[24] How hard it is for them to not allow their emotions to cloud their judgement?

[25] Do they have fears and phobias, and if they do, do they usually keep it to themselves or talk about it openly?

[26] Do they have any physical or mental ilness, how do they handle it and how open they are about it?

[27] Do they have any scars, how did they get them and how do they feel about them?

[28] What is something that they will never be able to forgive?

[29] How do they deal with loss, stress and anger?

[30] What are their most healthy and most unhealthy coping mechanisms?

[31] How hard it is for them to own up to their mistakes and wrongdoings?

[32] Is there something they've done in the past that they deeply regret till this day?

[33] What are one of their fondest and most treasured memories?

___

[34] Do they have vices they don't want others to know about?

[35] Do they like their own appearance, and what do they do, if anything, to alter it in any way?

[36] Do they own items that have sentimental value?

[37] How would they spend a lazy day when they have nothing specific to do?

[38] What do they usually do or where do they go when they need to feel comfortable and safe?

[39] What is their sleeping habits and favorite sleeping position, either alone and with someone?

[40] How picky they are with food, do they have specific dietary requirements based on their health or culture?

[41] What’s their usual morning routine?

[42] What is their idea of a perfect friendly hangout and/or romantic date?

[43] Do they enjoy flirting or being flirted with?

[44] On a party, where would you find them?

[45] For an event, would they dress like they typically do, or go all out?

[46] Would they rather dress to look attractive or to feel comfortable, and what would they never wear?

[47] Do they drink alcohol, and if they do, how much and how often?

[48] Are they, or were they at some point in their life, a part of any subculture?

___

[49] Do they possess any unexpected skill or knowledge that surprises others, and otherwise, what is something anyone would assume they know or can do, but in fact they don’t?

[50] What are they really good and really bad at?

[51] How good are they with money?

[52] Do they speak any other languages aside from their own?

[53] Do they like to sing and how confident they are with their singing?

[54] Do they like giving gifts, and how good are they at picking good gifts?

[55] How long does it take for them to make a new place feel like home, and what do they need for it?

[56] How would they react to hearing a dirty joke?

[57] What was the most stupid or dangerous thing they have ever done?

[58] In the situation where they had to choose, would they rather stay loyal to their morals or to people they love?

[59] What would they want to be remembered for?

[60] If they were to commit a crime, what kind of crime would it most likely be?

---

some of these question were written myself, some are the courtesy of my friend, and some were brought from my questionnaires in my old fandom. if you use them, please reblog or link back to this post

#ask game #oc questions #oc asks #oc ask game #character ask game #character asks #oc interview #character interview #oc development

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trainer-from-unova · 2 months ago

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sweet dreams

english ao3 Ⓢ spanish ao3 Ⓢ masterlist Ⓢ 𝄞

ship: robert reynolds x afab!reader

summary: where you're in love with the man of your dreams, literally

au: more based on the comics than in the mcu and he's more powerful and aware of what he can do with his powers

c/w: constructed reality, amnesia, secret past, lies, implied stalking, lies, crying, light angst, domestic fluff, emotional hurt and not much comfort tbh, implied unsafe sex, not very graphic smut but a simultaneous orgasm, bittersweet open ending

a/n: even if you read it here kudos on ao3 are appreciated and english isn't my first language

word count: 1467

She didn't know how or why since she couldn't remember "designing" him in her imagination, nor was he apparently based on anyone real and she usually had enough to do with the fantasies she imagined before bed about her favourite fictional characters or famous people, but apparently her mind had designed another life and a fictional boyfriend that she dreamt about every night when she fell unconscious. His name was Bob, and they did all the things couples do: go on dates, tell each other they love each other, hug, kiss... Etc. He was the perfect boyfriend in every way — he was her type in every way and he was everything a girl would want in a boyfriend.

According to her diary she had known him for a little over a year, although it had been longer since she started dreaming about him — but in reality she had known him for much longer, she just couldn't remember him.

Little by little she became obsessed with him, and although she saw him every night, she wanted to compile all their encounters because when she woke up she sometimes forgot many things, so she began to write and draw in notebooks everything she experienced with him so as not to forget anything and to feel him closer, more real. Maybe he wasn't real, but unfortunately her love for him was.

Even when she was awake she dreamt about him, and how could she not? She knew that her obsession with Bob had gotten out of control and that it wasn't normal to dream about him all the time, but according to her it was a defence mechanism her brain had created. She knew it wasn't normal, but was she hurting someone, or herself? She thought about going to therapy, but she didn't have enough money to go and talk about her dreams — it wasn't a real problem. She told herself that her love for Bob wouldn't slow down her love life in real life, but unfortunately her love life was as non-existent as this one apparently was — she couldn't find anyone she really connected with, and she'd rather be alone than in bad company.

She knew the dreams were strange, that nothing there made sense and that it was better not to try to make sense of them unless you wanted to end up with a headache from the confusion, but it was strange to her that she always dreamt in first person, when normally, before him, she used to dream in third person. They also tended to have continuity and she no longer dreamt strange things, like flying a plane and in the next "scene" being on the beach having a few beers with Queen Victoria. And sometimes she was aware that she was dreaming.

But at the same time she was fascinated by how real it all felt at times, so real that it was even scary. At that precise moment she couldn't see him as they were in the dark, but she could perfectly feel every millimetre of his body against hers — his hot and naked chest against hers in the same state, her legs hugging his back, her arms hugging his head, her hands clutching his long hair, his breathing hitching and moaning in her right ear with every thrust... She could even feel him cumming inside her and pulling out his member.

"See you tonight, my love," he whispered sweetly in her ear before kissing her cheek with the gentleness he hadn't had while fucking her, but her mind was so clouded by the orgasm she'd just had that she almost didn't hear him. The only thing working properly for her at the moment was her sense of touch, and she felt him pull away from her as she felt his cum drain from inside her.

"Bob?" she asked when she caught her breath, or rather, when she woke up. There was no answer and she didn't feel him next to her either, plus she was wearing panties and a baggy shirt again and didn't remember getting dressed.

She only saw two small white dots in front of her, assuming it was sunlight coming through the tight slits in the blind. She reached out to turn on the lamp on the bedside table next to the bed. When the small warm light illuminated the place she saw that she was in the room at home and not in the room in the house she shared with him in her dreams, which she knew as well as the real one. She felt a tickling liquid coming out between her vaginal lips, and for a second she thought, or rather, hoped it was his semen as crazy as it was and even though she didn't want to get pregnant, but for better or worse it was just a lot of discharge from the erotic dream she had had. She was so busy trying to process everything that she didn't even notice that those little white dots had disappeared with the light.

Then she reached under the pillow, reaching for her mobile phone with her sense of touch. When she picked it up, she pulled it out and looked at the time on the lockscreen. It was early in the morning and she was working the afternoon shift that day, so she decided to lie in bed doing nothing but daydreaming, wasting time and waiting for him to fall asleep again even for a little while so she could see him again, but no luck.

He was sitting cross-legged on their bed, and on his crotch was her. He had his hands on her waist and she had her hands on his shoulders as they talked about whatever, though she was paying more attention to his face, scanning and analysing every detail as she took her hands off his shoulders and brought them to his bangs, brushing them out of his face in an attempt to tuck them behind his ears.

"I'm not so handsome that you can't stop staring at me," he joked, tilting his head to the side to see if her eyes followed him.

"You're such a dummy, you are so handsome!" she replied, pretending to be offended as she gave him a little tap on the shoulder with her dominant hand, and they both laughed. "But that's not all..." she said more calmly, "I have this feeling..." she said as she looked at various parts of his face and put her dominant hand on one of his cheeks, "that I know you in real life," she said finally looking into his eyes as he moved his head towards her hand, to feel her touch even closer.

"Maybe you did," he said with a melancholy smile and tone — he always got like that when she was aware that what she was living was a dream, "in another life."

It sounded beautiful, and maybe there were possibilities (considering the strange world she lived in, where aliens and magic existed), but she was a reasonable girl and thought it was more likely that he simply had the face of someone she saw at the train station where she worked. She saw thousands of faces a day, his face was probably of some guy who made a dent in her subconscious (and with how handsome Bob was, she wouldn't be surprised).

"And what kind of life was that? Um?" she asked curiously. She didn't believe that possibility, but she wanted to imagine this supposed past life.

"Maybe..." he said looking behind her shoulder. "I was a superhero and I had to make everyone forget about me with my superpowers," he said forcing a comical tone but still unable to look her straight in the eye, not wanting her to realise that what he was saying was the truth.

"Why?" she asked, wanting more information. The story sounded interesting.

"For safety, of everyone" and she assumed he meant it for his civilian identity, so that she and other loved ones wouldn't be attacked by villains.

"Well, that's sad," she said grimacing.

"Yeah," he said grimacing as her. He then hugged her, needing the comfort and protection of being so close to her and wanting to hide the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. Evidently she returned the gesture, hugging his head in silence until she sighed deeply.

"...I'd love it if you were real," she said sorrowfully.

"...If it's any consolation..." he said looking at her again, "You're very real to me, you're everything to me."

"Yeah, but... I want to be with you always," she said, as much moved as frustrated.

"I'm always with you, I'm closer than you can imagine. Trust me, I'm your guardian angel."

And this time he wasn't lying.

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jays-bonnie-on-the-side · 6 days ago

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HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, JENSEN

PAIRING : jensen ackles x fem!reader

SUMMARY : it’s father’s day and one of his “gifts” gets it’s own surprise

WARNINGS : fluff. love. established relationship. oral (male receiving.) smut. strong language. slight daddy!kink. daddy!jensen. surprises. caught in the act.

A/N: i was laying in bed this morning, day dreaming as usual and this one shot came to mind. despite all my plans i had, i had to make sure i put this out today. hope y’all enjoy 😉😆 happy father’s day zaddy.

It was Father’s Day. A day Jensen rarely got to spend with his kids. As fate would have it, he finished his scenes for Soldier Boy last week, so he came to Connecticut to spend his free time with you and the kids before leaving for L.A. in 48 hours. The house was eerily still, something neither Jensen nor you were used to after the children arrived a few days ago. Their inner alarm wakes them up no later than 8 a.m.

Your eyes flutter open, sleep clouding your vision, but the brightness of the digital alarm clock on the nightstand displayed 9:52. I should go check on them, you thought. As you stir, Jensen pulls you tighter into his naked chest. His warmth convinces you to stay just a little longer. You sink back into his embrace, enjoying the rare moment. Eh, they’re fine.

After a few minutes, when consciousness pulls your soul from the deep slumber that engulfed you moments ago, you slowly turn in his strong, muscular arms. You press your face against his lean chest and listen to the steady drum of his heart. It alone could’ve lulled you back to sleep but your lustful thoughts kept you in this realm. You weren’t complaining and you knew Jensen wouldn’t be either. A devilish smirk graced your lips before you pressed them against his left pec. You trail hot kisses upwards, earning a quiet moan when you kiss just under his ear. He was up and you felt his excitement begin to flourish.

“Happy Father’s Day, Daddy,” you whisper seductively.

“Mm, thank you, sweetheart.”

You kiss his sharp jawline until you reach his luscious lips. Despite sleep still invading his senses, he’s quick to devour you. His mouth opens and so does yours, your tongues dancing together perfectly. His hand runs through your hair, pushing it away from your face. With all your might, you roll both of you over so he’s lying on his back with you on top. Your hips grind against his growing member, and you each moan into the kiss.

With difficulty, you break away. You pant heavily, trying to inhale the air your bodies had expelled while making out. Remembering the time, you figure you'll give him the first of his many presents for today before you join the kids. You trail sloppy kisses down his chest, past his abdomen, and above his boxers. Jensen sits up, his back against the headboard, so he can watch you work.

Your mouth opens, eager to take him in. He shoves the covers past his knees, just as impatient. You free his aching cock from his briefs and without hesitation, you wrap your plump lips around his flushed tip. He sucks in a breath and his hand flies to your hair on instinct. You slowly take him deeper, inch by inch.

It had taken some practice, which you both enjoyed, to train your throat to accept his girthy length. Now here you were, with your nose against his base, taking him fully. You pull back, swirling your tongue around his bellend before inserting the tip of your tongue inside his tiny hole. He tugs on your hair and bucks his hips. You know he wants more.

Jensen sinks back into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with ease. Your cheeks hollow as you retract, sucking harder with each bob. He throws his head back, the veins in his neck protruding as he gets closer to his high. Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, encouraging you to work harder, faster, better. A string of curses leaves his perfect mouth, followed by breathy moans and guttural groans.

“Fuck, princess, I’m almost there…Keep going…Just like that.”

You moan in response, your jaw aching with how wide you’ve had to open. It was worth it. Feeling him squirm underneath you was everything. He’s your everything. After all, you want his kids one way or another.

“Oh, fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum.”

You feel him tense, his dick twitching deep in your throat. He moans loudly and hot squirts of cum spray down your esophagus. Suddenly, you hear the small humans yelling outside your door. The next moment, they push it open, barely giving Jensen enough time to toss the duvet over you. Fuck!!!

“Happy Father’s Day, Daddy!” The kids shout as they run in.

You panic, eyes wide as he continues to spill into your mouth. Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh! Your heart hammers against your ribcage. If you move, they’ll see you and question you. But if you don’t move, they might find you. There was no winning in this situation.

“What’s wrong?” Zeppelin asks.

His voice is strained as he responds, “Nothing, buddy. Just got a cramp, is all.”

“Where’s Y/N?” JJ questions.

Jensen takes a second, steadying his breathing then says, “She’s hiding. Why don’t you guys go find her?”

“Daddy, what’s that lump in your bed?” Arrow observes and you can hear her feet patter on the floor as she walks closer.

FUCK!

With haste, you release his limp member from the depths of your mouth, swallow his salty load, and stuff him back in his boxers. You rise from the bed, the blanket falling around your figure, surprising the children.

Trying to play it off, you cheer, “You found me!”

“I knew it!” Arrow smiles.

“You’re so smart. Why don’t we go make Daddy some breakfast?”

“First one in the kitchen gets to be my favorite.” Jensen challenges.

They bolt out of your shared room, arguing over who’ll win.

“Oh my fucking—”

“Yeah.” You slump against your spouse, your heart racing as if you just finished a 5k.

“We need to start locking that door.” Jensen breathes.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

His large hand cups your jaw, his thumb stroking your flushed cheek. “God, I love you.”

“I love you.”

Jensen leans in and so do you, sharing the perfect chaste kiss.

“Daddy! We’re waiting!”

He slaps your ass, squeezing just momentarily, before lifting you both off the bed. “All right, all right. I’m coming!”

JENSEN ACKLES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | JOIN THE TAG LIST

FOREVER TAGS : @jaredpadonlyyyy @nicksalchemy1 @impala67rollingthroughtown @nancymcl @graciehams

@spacecowgirl126 @lmg14 @gurneetsadhra23 @crooked-haven @idontwannabehere7

@littlejackles @1316lalaloopy @sherlockstrangewolf @kamisobsessed @schattenphoenix-cave

JENSEN TAGS : @angelbunny222 @criminalyetminimal @angelicp0etry @celticma @deadlymistletoe

@1-read-the-hobbit-in-1937 @cheynovak @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @kindollss @smoothdogsgirl

@juicyballsworld @xxorazz @whichwitchwanda @devilslittlehelper @starrylanex

@10ava01 @theirdarling @giggles1026 @deanscroissant @lailawinchesterr

@ravenrose18 @chi_raz @writtenbyhollywood @spxideyver @tinas111

@1967barracuda @alediao @leila22rogers @blueschevy @ralilda

@sapnaploves @mandee7 @will00008 @mostlymarvelgirl @winchestersbgirl

@a-cup-of-nightshade @jamerlynn @tzahwananda @alwaysdaydreamingoffiction

: do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or republish any of my works* on here or another platform

*beside my writing, my works include : all banners, dividers, and gifs that i use (which were made by me,) unless otherwise stated.

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hongjoongspoetry · 3 months ago

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Just Another Night, Until You | Choi San

❤️‍🔥 Summary: Hectic nights at work is nothing out of the ordinary for you, but when a man is wheeled into the Intensive Care Unit with second degree burns all over his body and in the need of immediate medical attention, your life takes a turn as his body heals on his own by the mere presence of you. Shocked by the discovery, you stay by his side as he recovers and together you come to terms with your unexpected connection.

❤️‍🔥 Pairing(s): Firefighter!San x Emergency physician!Reader

❤️‍🔥 Genres/Tropes: Soulmate AU, non-idol AU, best friend's brother, oldest daughter and youngest son, slice of life, fluff

❤️‍🔥 Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), brief description of burn injuries, medical setting, san is living up to his romance-cat title, pet names (darling, my love, love, honey), MC is a Jeong, a lot of physical intimacy, kisses gallore, san is down bad for the MC, brief description of motorcycle accident and fractured bones (not explicit), the fear of losing loved ones, emotional exhaustion, a few swear words, not beta read!

❤️‍🔥 Wordcount: 7.5K

❤️‍🔥 Author's Note: Click the image for a better resolution (Tumblr I hate you). Wihooo! And there goes the second to last instalment of the March Event ;-; im lowkey sad it's ending soon although it gives me more time to work on other stuff!! anyhow, this one was really fun to write and I hope you'll enjoy it, be prepared for a lot of love sick sannie 🥹 Btw I'm not a nurse/doctor or have any "proper" knowledge regarding how things go down in the E.R or hospital for that matter either, so this is all based on excessive research. Thank you for your understanding!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is rated SFW, however it contains mature scenes such as descriptions of serious injuries, medical procedures as well as adult language. Minors, please, read at your own risk and refrain from interacting or following my blog!

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard Event taglist

It was an exceptionally calm hour in Seoul National University Hospital. Most nights were bustling with life, whether it’d be residential patients abusing the call button, relatives refusing to leave after visiting hours were over or an incoming emergency putting the whole hospital in a fit. But not tonight. The clock hanging on the wall opposite of the nurse’s station in the emergency department recently struck midnight. You slumped down by your desk as Haneul, your roommate, best friend and fellow colleague, dragged her legs behind her and nearly toppled over her seat. You finished off the last rounds of checking in on the inpatients on your floor, yet your social batteries were already drained and the nightshift had just started.

Haneul blew a raspberry before her head dropped onto the desk with a soft thud. She groaned and threw herself back on the chair, her arms extended and legs elevated. Her slip-on shoes barely hung onto her feet and she wasn’t faring any better.

“I’m so tired,” she complained and went limp in her seat. “I can’t wait to clock out and return to my boyfriend.”

You let out an amused huff, the pencil twirling in your fingers coming to a stop as you caught it mid air. “You mean your bed?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Ha-ha, really funny Haneul.”

“It’s a bit funny, admit it!”

You rolled your eyes at her, but couldn’t fight off the smile that spread across your face. It was never a dull moment when in Haneul’s company. You were certain that even if death were around the corner, she’d still find a way to make the situation feel light. That was probably why you two had hit it off at university. She was mostly, if not always, in a cheerful mood, while you walked around with a dark cloud over your head. Had it not been for Haneul approaching you solely because your shirt was similar to one of her favorite character’s outfits in a drama, you probably would never have become friends. A decade later and you were tighter than two peas in a pod, and even decided — after your first semester — to move into a flat together which was still your current home.

“Whatever… I can’t complain as it’s at least a quiet night.”

The unspoken rule of never mentioning the obvious flashed before your eyes and you cowered from the blazing look Haneul shot your way. The air was caught in your throats and neither dared to move an inch from your places. You slowly turned your head sideways, waiting for a patient to peek their head out or scream that their pillow needed puffing up. As the empty hallway continued staying silent and the motion sensor lights didn’t turn on, you exhaled in relief.

“You got lucky there,” she said and logged into her computer.

As you parted your mouth to answer, a voice broke through from the radio placed on the wall-mounted brackets. A report concerning a handful of people who were hurt in a fire set loose in an apartment came through and everyone ditched their tasks to get ready for the newcomers. You and Haneul, along with other nurses, ran to the trauma bay and occupied a room each where you, hopefully not, would get a patient each. The sound of multiple sirens grew louder the faster the ambulances sped toward the hospital and didn’t stop until the flashes of red and blue colored the building. Despite being employed for two years and counting, you never got accustomed to the ear piercing noise or blinding lights.

“Nurse Kim, could you prepare the wound care kit? Nurse Hwang, bring the respiratory support system. We don’t know what we’re dealing with so we need to expect the worst!”

The commotion from the triage area reached your room as the patients were being rolled into the hospital and underwent the initial assessment of their conditions. The code red patients would fall into your hands and you, together with your team, would do your utmost to lessen their injuries. You put the other glove on and waited by the door of your room. The sight before you was jarring to say the least. The victims of the fire were all in different conditions. Some crying and wincing from the burnmarks while others lay completely still as if the burned skin wasn’t a painful inconvenience. The wonders of falling unconscious. An elderly nurse with a couple of years beneath her belt pushed a stretcher toward you and you hastily moved out of the way.

Nurse Yeon quickly spewed the little information she knew of the unconscious patient, but you couldn’t focus on her words. Your entire attention was given to the man before you. He looked peaceful despite the soot smudged across his face and several burn marks littering the majority of his body. He was also handsome — very handsome. That, you couldn’t deny. His black strands fell over his closed eyes and brows. Most of his features were sharp and defined, red heart-shaped lips in a slight pout, a long nose with a prominent bridge, high cheekbones and a few beauty marks peeking out from beneath the smeared ash. But you knew that, out of everything, his most alluring feature was his eyes — even when closed. You could see the feline-like shape that reminded you of a panther in the wild and you found yourself wondering what color they were. A tingle erupted along the pads of your fingers, almost begging you to move his hair out of the way.

“...He was found unconscious in the building after being caught in the fire. Red category. He has second-degree burns on twenty percent of his body, severe smoke inhalation and is currently in respiratory distress. We’ve initiated oxygen therapy. BP is low and bolus fluids were administered to stabilize circulation. He is unresponsive, likely due to hypoxia.”

Nurse Yeon brought you back to the present and you ignored the highly unprofessional thought. With the help of Nurse Kim, you connected him to a monitoring machine and proceeded with the remaining steps of the protocol drilled into your spine. You administered high-flow oxygen via a non-rebreather mask to address the smoke inhalation and to prevent breathing issues later on.

Facing away from the patient to grab a scalpel in order to cut his already torn shirt, you just about turned your head and called out, “Nurse Kim, give him an IV fluid with saline to prevent shock and maintain blood pressure as well as a light dose of morphine to relieve him of pain. Nurse Hwang, hand me the scalpel, please.”

The nurses wasted no time following your orders. While Nurse Kim stabilized the patient’s blood pressure, you drove the sharp end of the scalpel through the center of his shirt to expose the injured area and assess what else you had to work with. As expected, there were blotches of irritated, red skin all over his upper body. It didn’t look too bad but would scar if left untreated. Your main concern was the smoke inhalation, but the high-flow oxygen proved effective, as the pulse oximeter showed that the oxygen saturation in his blood was slowly improving and you could swiftly move on to treat his wounds.

“Nurse Hwang, hand me the antiseptic soluti–”

A horrified gasp cut you off mid sentence and your head flung to the doorway where a nurse — a trainee at that — stood with her wide eyes and mouth hanging open behind her health mask. The interruption crawled beneath your skin like electricity. You glanced down at her nametag.

“Trainee Park?”

The student didn’t budge nor make a noise of acknowledgement and you had half a mind to terminate the established contract between the hospital and nursing school. You understood the weight of students gaining hands-on experience in a hospital setting, but it was beyond the agreement for a student to interrupt a life alternating moment for the patient.

“Trainee Park I won’t ask you a second time, what is it?!”

Antiseptic solution in hand, you faced the student again, though her focus wasn’t on you but on something behind you. A line formed between your brows as you followed her gaze, leading to what she was staring at. Your patient still lay unconscious, his chest rising and falling in rhythmic motion, but you weren’t caught off guard by his regulated breathing. The patches of glaring red skin that previously looked painful to the eye were replaced with a lighter hue as if his body was recovering on its own. It was inhumane and in all your years as both a student and a licensed doctor, you had never seen anything like it. However, everyone in the room knew exactly what it meant.

“Fuck…”

One of the male nurses found the patient’s ID-card in the cardholder neatly tucked in the pocket of his pants while changing him into a hospital gown, but it was the teary look on Haneul after seeing the man’s face that everything clicked in place. Choi San, the little brother of your best friend, was your soulmate.

The realization didn’t hit you while standing in the center of the trauma room or when his injuries healed more quickly beneath the touch of your finger. The fact that you had found your soulmate dawned on you early one morning, as you were making rounds between the remaining victims of the apartment fire and came across his room — the last patient to be checked on. The thought of finding your soulmate hadn’t crossed your mind in years. It was locked away in your old high school classroom, along with your youth, when you used to fret over who your soulmate might be. Would they be a foreigner? A celebrity? A boy or a girl? Rich, kind, or rude? The possibilities seemed endless, and you often spent more time daydreaming about the different outcomes than focusing on your studies. It was a miracle you didn’t fail most of your classes.

It was only when you set a goal that you lost interest in who your soulmate was and dedicated more of your time to studying. Little by little, as assignments piled up, you pushed the thought of your other half to the back of your mind and forgot about it. Of course, there were instances when the topic would come up every now and then — meeting distant relatives for the first time in forever and having them ask about your partner, or going out to dinner with Haneul and watching her get so drunk she forgets her own name, but still manages to make bets. Looks like you’d be treating her to that BBQ after all.

You entered the room and stopped at the end of the patient bed staring at San’s sleeping form. The harmless jealousy seeped into your bones as he lay there oblivious to the turmoil wrecking havoc inside of you and you wondered if, despite his unconscious state, he could feel even a glimpse of your emotions. Because you could feel him throughout your entire shift. The change in breathing, eyes fluttering, the subtle rise and fall of his chest as if he was right there with you.

The joke you once cracked to Haneul when you first started working there, something along the lines of finding your soulmate while tending to their wounds, wasn’t funny anymore and left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue. You sighed and glanced down at the patient chart hanging off the bedside. His vitals were good. More than good considering he was being driven straight from a burning building. Doctor Jung ran some tests on him during the night and they confirmed that San suffered greatly until he arrived at the hospital, until he reached you.

The doors of the room were violently pushed open and the eldest Choi entered as if her brother wasn’t lying there unconscious. Her unexpected arrival stopped your thoughts from spiraling further and your heart from racing into palpitations. It was weird to see her lips pressed into a thin line and eyes void of light, replacing her usual dimpled smile that would brighten your day.

“How is he?” She eventually asked and buried her hands in the pockets of her white coat.

You cleared your throat and mimicked her stance, both of you focused on the resting man. “He’s healthier than a newborn baby.”

Five hours of constantly being on your feet, moving around and not having the chance to take a five minute toilet break put you in a hazy mist. It wasn’t until now that you felt the weight of the situation sink in. Who would’ve thought your best friend’s brother was your soulmate?

“You know,” Haneul started and broke you out of your thoughts. “I’m happy it’s you. Someone I know and trust as much as I trust myself.”

The words were oddly warm and spread a branch of hope through you. While you were too caught up with your work and then your own feelings, you didn’t stop to think what Haneul thought of everything. Her two worlds were colliding and it could either be good or bad.

“Is it weird?”

“Not at all… It’s the best thing I could ask for. That my best friend and brother get along… Just…” Haneul gnawed on the side of her bottom lip and turned to you, “Just don’t hurt him, Jeong. San is a tough cookie, but he has a fragile heart and I really don’t want to ever choose between you. You are both very dear to me.”

“You won’t have to. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t hurt him even if I tried.”

Haneul chuckled despite the tears making their escape down her cheeks. “Is it really like how they say? Are you already… affected by him?”

You breathed out a laugh at that. The countless nights spent talking and making fun of other couples who had already found their happily ever after were sure biting you in the ass, because it was, in fact, exactly how they said it would be. The unexplainable pull drawing you toward him, the yearning to be by his side and feeling him everywhere. Every skip of his heart, harsh intake of air and twitch of his fingers were all transferred to you

“Yeah, it’s exactly how they say it is.”

Haneul eventually left to do her last rounds and finish writing reports until the sun peeked over the horizon, signaling the end of your second night shift that week. San didn’t wake up until a few hours later and despite being hooked to a monitor regulating his state and showing nothing out of the ordinary, you didn’t leave his side for even a second. The dread of another emergency report coming through squeezed your abdomen until you were on the verge of puking. Just the thought of parting from him almost sent you hurling your insides in the guest bathroom. You were lucky to have wonderful colleagues who understood the circumstances and reassured you multiple times not to worry about finishing your reports or doing rounds. Nurse Hwang and Kim even passed by with snacks and water before returning to work.

The clock struck early morning when your chin slid off your knuckles and you were unpleasantly awoken from your slumber. The fear of falling to your death had you jumping out of your seat and taking in your surroundings. The sun gently shone through the windows occupying the entire left side of the room and filled the space with auburn streaks kissing your face. The warm rays seeped through the cherry blossom trees planted along the outskirts of the hospital. You found the view to be exceptionally beautiful during the early mornings when the pink petals detached from the branches, swirling in the air like snowflakes and covering the boring cement pavement..

A laser like heat bored into the side of your head and you scanned the room to find the source, only to get lost in the eyes of your soulmate. A wide smile stretched across his face and you realized the dimple gene ran deep in the Choi family as an identical pair to Haneul’s popped on San’s cheeks. You couldn’t shake away the image of a content and well fed cat at the sight of him.

San immediately shifted the blanket to the side and had one bare foot planted on the floor, ready to leap out of bed and wrap you in his arms. The man just about managed to stand on both legs when you rushed from your seat and gently pushed him back down.

“No, no, please, sit!”

San fell back on the mattress without much of a fight. The moment your hand made contact with his shoulder, an explosion of tingles erupted along your palm, spreading like wildfire through your arm and out to the rest of your limbs, reaching the tips of your toes and fingers. The air caught in your throat and, like magnets forced together, your eyes found his again. Neither of you had to vocalize the question balancing on the tip of your tongues, asking if the other felt that crackling fire. San sensed the twinge of worry squeezing at your heart and hummed in content, he reached out and grabbed one of your hands in his to ease the burden atop your shoulders. He smiled so hard his eyes turned into crescent moons and hadn’t you known better, you’d think he’d start purring like a cat receiving ear scratches.

“I’m fine. I don’t need rest because you are here.”

You ignored the heat pooling beneath your cheeks at his rather flamboyant response and steered the conversation elsewhere. “What were you thinking running into a burning building?”

The words came out effortlessly, as if you had known him since your youth.

“I didn’t do it on purpose…” He began and jutted out his bottom lip. “My feet just moved on their own, call it an instinct. Besides, I couldn’t just leave everyone inside. I’d put shame on the entire fire department!”

“Curse you for being reckless and kind hearted, San.”

“Yet thanks to my recklessness, I landed in the hospital and found you.”

The cheeky reply nearly made you pop a blood vessel. You didn’t understand how he could be so calm after facing death less than eight hours ago. The monitor attached to him shouldn’t have been stable. Based on your past experience with burn victims, San should’ve been startled and shaken up, and in some uncomfortable pain. Instead, he remained unnervingly composed, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made you question your own knowledge. His calmness felt unnatural, given the circumstances. The heart rate monitor, which should’ve shown elevated readings due to stress, stayed oddly steady and only spiked up when you spoke, moved or looked at him for too long.

“San… we are soulmates. We would’ve met eventually,” you hissed, trying to mask the look of realization on your face. The soulmate bond explained his calm demeanor. As he said, he was fine now that you were there, while you just wanted to cover him in bubble wrap and not let him out of your sight.

“Yes, but not soon enough.”

You abandoned the conversation for now as it wouldn’t lead anywhere. San was deadset on his decision being correct even though it was a foolish one and you still had a job to do. Ignoring the way he followed your every movement, a polite smile and creased eyes never leaving your form, you adjusted his pillows and checked the IV attached to his forearm.

“Do you need anything else?”

“Hmmm, just you.”

Had you met under different circumstances, perhaps in a grocery store where you'd bump carts together or on a packed bus where he’d give up his seat for you and stand by your side to shield you from the other commuters, his charms would’ve worked. But you didn’t. Instead San decided to search the burning building for others with no gear, just his strong will and hope clinging onto his back, and all his attempts at flirting were futile as you couldn’t get the image of his unconscious body out of your head.

“Too bad,” you settle on saying. “You can’t have me before twelve PM.”

The pout intensified and he even crossed his arms in retaliation. Seeing a man in his late twenties throw a silent tantrum wasn’t something you thought you’d ever find endearing, but there you were, suppressing a laugh and yearning to smooth out the wrinkles on his forehead.

“Do you have to go?” He whispered and looked up at you through his lashes.

“Yes, unless you want me to be fired?”

“Fine! But the second that clock hits twelve, you and I are both getting out of here.”

“You can’t just leave, San, they have to run tests and–”

“I’ve never felt better and I think every doctor in the building can agree with me. What I will be if I don’t get to spend time with you is sick, and sad, and heartbroken and–”

“I get it, I get it!”

San lived up to his promise of spending time with you. In fact, he wasted no time running down the hallway the moment the minute hand switched to twelve, asking everyone dressed in white cloaks where Doctor Jeong was. The question left his mouth for the tenth time that minute just as you rounded the corner, ready to check out. San gave you all of three seconds to bid your colleagues goodbye before whisking you away. His plan of getting to know you consisted of lying tangled up on his sofa with a meaningless movie playing in the background, while his fingers caressed your back and his eyes shifted back to you every other second, as if he couldn’t believe you were real.

You weren’t faring any better. Your head was neatly tucked beneath his chin, and your hand was splayed over his right pectoral, the tips of your fingers gently rubbing soothing motions beneath the curve of his collarbone. Had you known your soulmate would be a kitten with separation anxiety, you’d have stalled on meeting him for a little while longer. Although, deep down, you knew that was a lie. San was everything you needed him to be and more: attentive, gentle, sweet, kind, caring — the list was truly endless.

The days spent cocooned together — San on sick leave to recover from the accident and you having the next two days off from work — made up for the thirty-something years you hadn’t been in each other’s lives. In just forty-eight hours, you created a bond that most lifelong best friends would envy. He shared embarrassing stories from his and Haneul’s childhood days — sweet memories of how his mother dressed him in Haneul’s hand-me-downs, despite her closet mainly consisting of flower dresses and cute skirts. In return, you told him about that one time you accidentally locked your parents out on the balcony and then hurled your breakfast back out from the anxiety and fear of never seeing them again. If only little you could have understood the wonders of spare keys and that your grandmother was already on her way to solve the issue.

The first night was spent staying up late, talking about heartfelt stories and niche interests to the point where you both passed out and didn’t wake up until late afternoon the next day. Who knew your hunk of a fireman liked collecting sweet plushies and was adamant on learning how to crochet?

That wasn’t everything though. A week into your freshly established relationship and San hadn’t missed to stop by your workplace once to give you lunch, coffee, midnight snacks or a quick peck on the cheek. It was easy in the beginning when San didn’t return to work for an entire week. The soulmate bond proved that he wasn’t in need of resting as much as his company thought and he eventually had to return earlier than expected. It was weird to be glued to each other for hours on end to then not be able to see each other because of your hectic schedules that never seemed to align. When you’d return home from a long night shift, he was dressed and ready to leave.

You voiced your worries to Haneul during a lunch break, saying how you were afraid of moving too fast, but now that you barely got to spend time together, it felt like you were moving at a snail’s pace. She mildly reassured you that it craved more than some social distance for your soulmate bond to break and that it would take some time for you to find your footing in the relationship.

However, working multiple shifts a week while running on little to no sleep left you too exhausted to plan an outing whenever an opportunity for the two of you to spend time together appeared. Date-night looked different in the Choi-and-Jeong books. Instead of glamming up and booking a reservation at a fancy restaurant, you decided to stay in and watch a movie that would sooner or later be forgotten as you’d be too enamoured with each other. Haneul walked in on one too many make-out sessions, and thus, you came to the decision to host movie nights strictly at San’s apartment.

Like many times before, you lay atop San, his legs parted, giving you the option to cage his left one between yours. One of his arms was bent and propped behind his head to act as a cushion, while the other was curled around you, his hand pressing against the small of your back in a comforting embrace. Your cheek was mushed against his chest and your hand limply rested on his bicep. A movie played on the big screen and a plethora of snacks were strewn out on the coffee table but left untouched. You joked about how, ever since San entered your life, your sugar cravings had dramatically decreased because he was bringing too much sweetness into it.

“Honey?” San broke the comfortable silence and spoke over the characters on the TV. You hummed in reply and he continued. “I want to ask you something.”

As you shifted to get a better look at him, he pulled you in a tight embrace and you immediately stopped moving. “Don't look at me, just… listen? Please?”

“Okay, Sannie, what is it?”

“How do you feel about… moving in… with me? Or me with you!” You could hear the blush attacking his cheeks and embarrassment clinging onto his voice as it grew higher in the end and the words came out in a rush.

Joy tugged at your lips and you couldn’t stop the light hearted chuckle from slipping out in the room. You broke out of his gentle hold and grabbed his hand in yours, and planted a chaste kiss on it.

“I think I’d love that.”

Without warning, he squeezed your cheeks between his palms and captured your lips in a tender kiss, leaving your insides warm and mushy. Despite having muscles the size of a watermelon and broad shoulders that could carry the entirety of Noah’s ark, San was a real softie. He had the habit of holding you as if you were the most valuable possession on the earth, a feather which could crumble at contact or a cube of sugar that would melt beneath the rain. The shared kisses were brief but left a tingle on your lips that you couldn't get enough of and nearly whined in retaliation as San withdrew to catch his breath.

“I adore you, like really, really much,” he confessed and kissed you again, and again, and again. The peppered kisses were planted all over your face — nose, cheeks, mouth, chin, eyes, forehead. The endearing act of love pulled a string of giggles straight out of your tummy, cursing you with an ache that your grandmother would call remedy for the soul.

One moment he was on you and the next, he turned you over to lay against the couch while he scrambled to his bedroom on the other side of the apartment. You pushed yourself up on your forearms with only your upper body lifted as you curiously watched San runoff as if his rear caught on fire.

“Sannie?”

“Just a second, honey!”

Rough shuffling reached the living room, but it was the loud crash of objects clattering on the ground that you almost headed to see the commotion yourself. San’s reassuring voice telling you everything was okay didn’t help you relax, but you trusted his judgement and remained seated. The eager wait was short lived as San returned with something tightly clutched in his right hand and stopped by the end of the couch, back uncomfortably straight and face pinched into a serious expression. Hadn’t you known him for a little shorter than a month, you’d assume he was about to get down on one knee and ask you to live the rest of your life by his side.

San cleared his throat and extended his arm low enough for you to see his well manicured fingernails. You shuffled over closer to the end of the sofa and sat up on your knees. His fingers unfolded and exposed the trinket laying in the center of his palm. An apartment key. The spare key to his apartment to be precise.

“I know we haven’t known each other for that long, but I’ve never been sure of anything more than this and I really want to take this next step with you.”

“Are you asking me to marry you or move in with you?”

Red dusted his cheeks and he had to look away. Your own lips curved up as his eyes creased into crescent moons, a telltale of his dimpled smile making an appearance. San covered his mouth as if it would make his smile disappear. Testing the waters, he asked, “Would you say yes?”

“I guess you’ll have to find out.”

San was sure he could pass out right then and there. His cheeks hurt from smiling too much, but it was the only pain he would ever welcome with open arms. You climbed onto the couch and jumped into San's arms and he effortlessly caught you, his hands finding their designated place on your hips and thighs while your arms slid around his neck like a koala. Your fronts were pressed against each other, but you continued pulling him toward you, as if the chance of becoming one entity was higher than inventing flying cars. San dipped you down princess-style and stole a long kiss, one that you were more than eager to reciprocate. Your fingers tangled in his black hair, nails soothingly scratching his scalp, and your heart swelled with so much love and happiness it felt like it could explode and fill the living room with colorful confetti.

It was a shame the human needed air every few minutes because all you wanted to do in that moment was feel him everywhere. Breaking apart, you rested your forehead against his, hot breaths fanning across each other’s lower faces, chests rising with fervor as your bodies desperately tried to reclaim the lost oxygen."

“I’d say yes a hundred times over,” you breathed out, “but let’s save that for after we meet the in-laws.”

“My parents have already scheduled a day for when we can go to Namhae,” he eagerly replied to which you hastily leaned back, nearly sending you both tumbling over.

“San! I swear you’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably in love with you.”

Lips swollen, eyes welling with joy and hearts beating erratically, the world paused as you looked at each other. The diploma neatly placed on your desk and the knowledge you had collected over the years seemed insignificant when the love you harbored for San could regrow burned forests, mend broken bridges and heal even the most shattered of hearts.

Living with San was nothing out of the ordinary, except that you saw each other more now that you lived under the same roof. Considering your shared apartment with Haneul was bigger than San’s, it only made sense for the Choi siblings to switch places. That way you kept your room and San took Haneul’s. You quickly realized you could’ve just moved into San’s apartment instead as neither ever went to sleep alone. More often than not, San would crawl into your bed, claiming it was cozier than his, but you knew even the ground would be a great sleeping place as long as you were in his arms. That was precisely what you wanted — to be in San’s arms. Instead you were working another night shift, the most hectic one since the fire incident a couple of weeks ago.

A young man, no older than twenty, had been in a motorcycle crash, leaving him with severe pain and swelling in his right leg, which was pushed into an unnatural position. The skin was entirely torn off, exposing blood and muscle tissue. You had a suspicion about how severe the situation was, but it still called for an X-ray examination. As expected, the results confirmed multiple fractures of the femur and tibia, requiring surgery the next day at the latest. Changmin, as his driver’s license indicated, was in immense pain and even struggled with breathing difficulties into the night. This left you and your co-workers with no choice but to monitor him closely throughout the remainder of your shift. To say it was tiring would be an understatement. Your feet were so sore it felt like walking on a rug of medical needles and your back ached, begging you to lie in bed and not get up until the birds returned from Southeast Asia.

The only thing pushing you through the long day was the fact that you knew San was waiting on you at home. It didn’t matter if he was awake or not. Your tense muscles relaxed by the thought of burying your face in his chest and forget the world until your batteries were restored again. It became a routine for the both of you. When one had a more physically draining day at work, the other was ready to pamper them and make them feel completely taken care of.

After a few failed attempts to insert the key into the door, you finally managed to unlock it. A stream of blue light illuminated the otherwise dark apartment and was accompanied by muffled voices coming from the living room. You haphazardly threw your shoes off, not bothering to neatly place them next to one of San’s hundred pairs of sneakers, and instinctively followed the animated sounds that belonged in a cartoon.

The scene you were met with nearly brought you to tears. San was seated in the middle of the sofa, a fuzzy blanket thrown over his head and shoulders, with two mugs of hot cocoa steaming on the table in front of him. The bag slung over your shoulder slipped off and fell to the floor with a gentle thud. Your jacket — a gift from San’s closet — was at least two sizes too big, making you look like a bear ready to hibernate. The colorful scarf you had been wearing since your teenage years reached up to your nose. San whipped his head in your direction and his stoic expression softened into one of understanding at the sight of fresh tears coating your waterline. His lips curled into a small, reassuring smile that spoke more of compassion than words ever could.

He quickly lifted one side of the blanket and beckoned you over with a gentle command. “C’mere honey.”

That was the last straw for your tears to start rolling. You wasted no time shedding your outer layers of clothing and curling into San’s side. A sob that you had been holding in throughout the entire car ride home vibrated against his chest. San ran his hand up and down your back while whispered praises tickled your ear. He planted a kiss on your crown and pulled you over him as he fell back against the couch. You adjusted yourself more comfortably, both legs falling on either side of his hips so as not to fall, and he swiftly maneuvered the blanket to shield you from the chilly atmosphere. The minutes ticked by and you had no perception of how long you stayed in that position, but your sobs eventually subdued to soft sniffling.

“How did you know?” You whispered, a tremble hanging onto your vocal chords, and sat up.

San’s hands travelled to rest on your waist, thumbs rubbing circular motions into your flesh. “I just… felt you.”

“Felt me?”

He hummed, “I still do. Happiness, sadness, fear, anger — everything, right here.” His hand hovered over your heart and you understood. You really did.

There was no scientific explanation for the emotional connection that kept you in tune with each other’s feelings. The unexpected pressure weighing down on your lungs at even the slightest discomfort or worry he experienced, like when he stumbled upon a video of a duckling being separated from its mother. It was uncanny how your heart soared hours before he came home with good news about a promotion, or the unexplainable sense of pride you had been carrying all day — only to discover it was coming from San, who had helped a kitten down from a tree. You’d never forget the day the bitter taste of dandelion greens spread across your tongue, only to find San lying in bed, caving under the weight of his blue emotions. The best part of the connection, though, would be the buckets of love pouring into your bucket as he hugged, kissed and worshipped you. However, there was one emotion you hadn’t received any signs of.

Your fingers found purchase on the hem of his shirt that rode up his stomach and revealed a sliver of the toned skin beneath. “I don’t feel… your anger.”

San flashed you a blinding smile and spurts of daffodils curved around your heart. “That’s because nothing makes me angry, love.”

“Really? Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

A beat passed and you sighed, “I’m always angry.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re angry, just… frustrated.”

“It’s practically the same thing,” you argued and continued fiddling with his shirt. He captured your hands in his and halted your anxious picking.

“It isn’t, not by definition. We feel frustrated when we are unable to progress, while anger is the response to something we perceive as wrong or harmful… You’re not angry, my love, you’re frustrated and probably overworked too.”

Your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you mulled over his words. It made sense, and you didn’t need to voice the comfort it brought you; he felt it. The unruly waves quieted to a steady push-and-pull, letting you breathe as the knot of emotions slowly untangled to nothing.

“You know, I’m supposed to be the older one out of the two of us.”

A hearty laugh filled the previously gloomy room, immediately illuminating the four cold walls, and San caught your waist again as he shifted, the echoes of his laughter filling the space.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. It'd be my honor to make you feel like a teenage girl again.”

That he did. It was almost embarrassing how his sweet gestures had you leaping face first into your pillows and rapidly firing your feet against the comforter. One would believe you were closer to being fifteen than thirty, and while you had a mild crisis, you were still grateful San brought that youthfulness out of you again.

“Was it a rough day?”

The sentimental moment burst like a fragile soap bubble at the slightest of touches. You took a breath of air and San slid his hand further up your wrists, placing his thumbs in the center of your palms while the remainder of his fingers wrapped around the back of your hand. It was grounding and kept you from re-visiting the gut wrenching thoughts that plagued your mind while tending to the young patient.

“A young guy was rushed to the ER… He got into a motorcycle accident and flew maybe a good ten meters from the crash place, and totally fucked up his leg. It was by sheer luck he didn’t suffer head injuries, let alone injuries to the rest of his body.”

You still saw the image of his bloodied body and torn clothes, a sight that would leave you with nightmares for days.

“He was in really critical condition, San. We couldn’t leave him alone for even one second. I’m talking about twenty four-hour care… He’s going into surgery tomorrow. He’ll survive, but it’s just... He reminded me of you. How you’re literally in danger every time you go to work and– and how easily I could lose– lose– lose–”

The words caught in your throat as your voice grew higher in pitch. San gave your hands another squeeze and pulled you back down onto him. You wasted no time burying your face in his neck and his arms automatically wrapped around you — one finding purchase at the back of your head while the other securely encircled your back.

“I don’t want to lose you, San.”

“You won’t lose me, love.”

“You don’t know that!”

“What I know is that I always do my best to come back to you in one piece. To my home, no?” The hand that had been placed against your head wrapped around the back of your neck and gently massaged it.

Like a flower opening up to catch the first few sun rays of the day, you put your heart out and allowed San a glimpse of what was inside.

“It just scared me,” you said between shuddering breaths. “Anything could happen, San, and I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you–”

“Honey.” His voice wasn’t stern, but it held a certain finality to it. As gentle as a newborn kitten, he carefully eased you back, pulling you away from where your face had been pressed against his neck. With a soft motion, he tilted your head slightly, getting a better look at your face.“Thinking of the what ifs isn’t good for anyone.”

You wanted to reply with an ‘I know’, but you knew better than to lie to him.

He wiped a stray tear off your cheek and you nuzzled against his palm. “Look, I love that you think you need me, but it’s not true. We managed more than fine on our own and just because we’ve found each other doesn’t mean we can’t function alone anymore… I love that you feel comfortable enough to lean on me, darling, but at the end of the day, you’re strong because of who you are and not because I’m here.

“And if, but just if, anything were to happen to me, I need you to know that you aren’t alone. You’d still have Haneul there. My parents. Your parents. Nurse Kim and Nurse Hwang too. That’s eight more people than me.”

Your hand enveloped his cradling your cheek. “I don’t want to think of a life without you in it.”

“Good because you’re stuck with me forever and ever and ever and ever!”

A wet giggle sounded through the living room and San’s rough chuckle blended perfectly with your sweet hiccups. Overwhelmed by the affection filling your humble abode, successfully warming every corner of the apartment, you intertwined your fingers behind San’s neck and determinedly pulled him into a heart-searing kiss. Your mouths molded together in a perfect fit, much like the famous art piece by Auguste Rodin. The sculpture representing a pair of lovers destined to remain together forever, until parted by death.

San breathed life into you with simple gestures that could restore chivalry. His eyes finding yours in a crowded room, silently checking up on you as you were both tugged in opposite directions by your mutual friends. Walking the empty streets after a successful date night, the gentle brush of his fingers skimming over yours before slipping between the gaps and pulling your hand into the pocket of his coat with the excuse of keeping you warm. Slothing his front to your back in the solitude of your home as you’d be too busy for a long cuddle session on the couch. Not to mention the kisses spread throughout the day—morning, noon, and night. He’d see you off with a peck and welcome you with the same sentiment, wishing you a good night or day before taking off.

The memories you collected during your still-new relationship pushed you forward, giving you hope and belief that you were going to get through this. San’s promise of never leaving — intentionally or unintentionally — comforted you and the dreadful thoughts hadn't returned, and hopefully, they wouldn’t ever. But if they ever did reoccur, you knew San would be there to chase them away.

#[🌸] cherry blossom march event #cromernet #choi san x reader #choi san #ateez x reader #ateez #soulmate #soulmate oneshot #soulmate au #firefighter san #oneshot #fanfiction #fluff #romance #drabble #firefighter au #hospital au #a bit of angst #angst

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differenttimemachinecrusade · 4 months ago

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#Cloud-Based Language Learning Market #Cloud-Based Language Learning Market Analysis #Cloud-Based Language Learning Market Scope

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meltedbluecaterpillar · 2 months ago

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I Don't Care!: Diasomnia

Heartslabyul - Savanaclaw - Octavinelle - Scarabia - Pomfiore - Ignihyde

Romantic Jealousy: Based on real or imagined threats to a romantic relationship. There could be a history of infidelity or flirtations; however, this could also be solely based on insecurities. Sexual/Suspicious Jealousy: Based on fears that a partner may have cheated or be engaged in inappropriate communication.

Does he get jealous?

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is very aware that he isn't as social as his peers. So when Floyd comes to tease you he can't help but get emotional...

Malleus crossed his arms over his chest, watching the scene unfold with knit brows. Classes had ended for the day, and Malleus had made his way through the halls to retrieve you from Ace and Deuce and all of the other students that tended to cling and hover around you.

Malleus personally disliked it. It wasn't that you having friends upset him. It was the way they appeared so close. How they all seemed to yearn for your attention. Malleus was the object of your affections. No one else. The only 'person' he begrudgingly shared with was Grim.

So seeing Floyd wrapping his arms around your shoulders left his stoic expression twitching and contorting into a silent fury. Malleus couldn't see your expression. But through body language alone he could tell you were uncomfortable. Floyd cooed and lifted you off your feet as he squeezed your body. Until he noticed Malleus in the corner of his eye.

"Shrimpy, Sea Slug came to getcha." He sang softly as Floyd smiled as he pivoted, holding you against his body as he and Malleus locked eyes. "Guess that means we can't play today." Floyd held his stare with Malleus, disinterested in the way the clear sky began to swirl with darkened clouds. How the wind started to pick up and shake the trees. Floyd snickered before letting you go, you stumbled as your feet suddenly hit the floor, and Malleus reached out to catch you. Causing their locked eyes to break. "Specially 'cause Sea Slug seems mad..." His tone was still playful, but the twin seemed to be making a brisk walk in the other direction down the hall.

Malleus assisted you in standing, his hands holding your shoulders as he looked you over. The silent fury had melted into melancholy. "Are you alright?" He asked, the dark and heavy clouds had began to produce rain over the campus. Something that wasn't on today's forecast until now.

You nodded, thanking him with a sigh. Floyd was too rough, too handsy. You didn't like it. You asked Malleus to lean down so that way you could thank him. You pressed your lips against his cheek. And with his eyes widened and his cheeks flushed a dusty rose pink;

The weather had cleared again.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia didn't view himself as insecure. He was just having a hard time seeing Ace so close to you...

Lilia is an old man. You are not. Sometimes he would watch you run and play with those closer to you in age. Lilia was 700 years your senior. He had no issue with taking your hand when he discovered his feelings for you.

But with age comes with new anxieties. He wouldn't live forever. But there was a chance he would outlive you as well.

He stood near the once empty classroom. Listening in on a conversation being had between you and Ace. He never meant to pry on you personal matters unless you brought them up to him. But Lilia couldn't help it. "I do like you." Ace admitted, his tone awkward as Lilia leaned against the wall. His arms crossed as a frown rested on his lips. "And I know you're with Lilia but... I'm just saying, he's a thousand years old-" Lilia's eyes turned towards the tips of his shoes when you corrected Ace. Reminding your classmate that Lilia was a few hundred years younger than one thousand.

The conversation continued with Ace making an attempt to convince you to leave Lilia in exchange for him. Ace is around your age. He's human. And you would be perfectly happy with a more 'natural' arrangement. A Fae and a human was extremely uncommon in this world. In your world, Fae didn't even exist.

You raised your voice, startling Lilia as he listened to you shout at Ace. How he was just a little 'booger' and making a suggestion like this had to be one of many other reasons why he was still single. When Lilia heard you storming towards the door, he dashed down the hall and into another empty classroom to hide.

His heart thudded in his ribs. Lips parted as he caught his breath. His face warm as his hands now clenched into fists at his side. Lilia was upset with Ace making a move on you.

But he was ecstatic to know that you truly did cherish him just as much as he cherished you.

Silver Vanrouge

Silver already has so much to worry about. Something about Deuce being your friend made him worry...

Silver couldn't help how often he dozed off. His head bobbed as he sat on a small plastic chair beside you, leaning back with a stern look as he fought against his desires to sleep.

You were holding a stop watch and a small clipboard. Coding everyone on the track team for their times as Coach Vargas barked for everyone to pick up the pace. Silver didn’t mind. He knew that you liked to help your first year friends.

It was early in the morning on a Saturday. A little chilly, but nothing Silver couldn’t handle. But just for you, he had brought a black parka with the Diasomnia emblem for you to wear as the two of you sat in the cold air.

Now it was time for the team to take a break. Get some water, check on their time, stretch if they needed to. Deuce came over with a bright smile. Silver liked Deuce. He's a good boy with good intentions. He cherishes his mother and he has lots of growing to do. His eyes fluttered shut as the two of you talked. His head bobbed again. Even after an energy drink and a paper cup of coffee, he still couldn't stay awake.

"O-Oh but... I mean we don't have to do it like a date..." The words that left Deuce's lips filled Silver with the energy he needed for his eyes to shoot open. He sat up in his chair and looked at Deuce. "I know Deuce, it's just studying." You smiled up at him. Deuce awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. Still smiling as Silver stared in disbelief. Maybe he misheard something.

Deuce wouldn't pull that in front of him. There's no way. "Is it okay if I join?" Silver asked the two of you. His expression hardening as you turned to face him with a soft laugh. "If you want. We're just going over some stuff for a test on Monday." You and Deuce are classmates, even though you're Silvers age.

But something didn't sit right with Silver. Especially since Deuce looked disappointed after he invited himself to the study session. Or 'date', according to Deuce.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek doesn't believe in jealousy. But Ruggie proves that to be false...

Sebek narrowed his eyes, his teeth dragging into his bottom lip as he saw Ruggie holding one of your books above his head. Tossing it between one hand to the other. He was smirking, trying to get you to play with him.

"Is he a middle schooler?!" Sebek huffed and made his way over, now standing behind you as he easily took your textbook back from Ruggie. "Enough! No horseplaying in the halls!" He shouted as the beastman looked up in shock. And so did you. But you looked much happier to see Sebek than Ruggie did.

"Great, Loud Mouth is here." He huffed in annoyance as he folded his hands behind his head. "I was just messing around, don't burst a vein." Ruggie grumbled as Sebek handed you your textbook back. Remaining behind you with his hands now attaching themselves to your shoulders.

"I am not a Loud Mouth! And I am sure the Prefect doesn't appreciate you bothering them." Sebek didn't realize he was causing a scene now. Ruggie started to smirk again. "How would you know?" The hyena asked as he started to take a step away. "You have no idea how close we actually are Sebek. Since you're always gushing about your boyfriend Malleus-" "Lord Malleus is not my boyfriend!" He snapped as he started to slowly process what Ruggie said.

You and Ruggie are friends. Sebek was aware of that. It didn't bother him, until right now. You barked at Ruggie to leave Sebek alone, and the hyena only snickered and made his way down the hall. Vanishing among the sea of students. Sebek is one of Malleus' retainers. His job was to watch over the future king of Briar Valley. Sebek wasn't the best at managing his time between you and Malleus. But he did try.

So what did Ruggie mean by that? Was he just talking to hear his own voice? Or was something else going on?

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honeyncherry · 3 months ago

Text

god knows i tried - joe burrow

summary it's not always lust that undoes him—and when he goes quiet, it means something’s broken loose

content 18+, smut, language

We all talk about the way Joe gets when he’s lost in it—when lust takes over and clouds his judgment, makes him a little dumb in the best kind of way. Words tumble out of his mouth like prayers, like praise, like worship. He forgets to filter anything—just mumbles and groans filth against your skin like your body’s the only religion he’s ever believed in. He tells you how good you feel, how much he needs you, how he’s gonna lose it if you don’t stop squeezing him like that.

But that’s only half of him. The part you know well.

There’s another version—one that surfaces when everything else starts to slip.

It comes out on the nights when the weight in his chest gets too heavy to carry. When the world starts to spin too fast, and nothing feels steady except the way you break apart beneath him. When everything around him feels like it’s spiraling and you’re the only thing he still knows how to hold onto.

The nights where he’s not spiraling with want, but weighed down by everything else. Pressure. Loss. Frustration that doesn’t explode—just calcifies into something colder. It builds after the games that didn’t go right. After the breakdowns that don’t make sense. When the outside noise won’t stop, and his own thoughts won’t either.

It starts before he even touches you. The door shuts a little too hard. His keys hit the counter with more force than necessary. He doesn’t say a word. Just peels off his sweatshirt in one slow, distracted motion, like the fabric is suffocating him. His shirt follows, dropped carelessly to the floor. Every movement looks like he’s holding himself together with fraying thread. You don’t need to look up to know what kind of night it’s going to be. Your body already knows.

Without words, he yanks your leggings and panties down in one swift pull, like just seeing them there makes him angry. You lift your hips, let him drag them halfway down your thighs before he’s hauling you into his lap, already hard, already thick and pulsing through his sweatpants.

Your shirt stays on, bunched beneath your arms, but there’s nothing underneath. The heat of your skin against his chest makes him grunt low in his throat, like the contact alone is too much. His sweatpants and boxers are shoved just far enough down for him to free himself, and that’s all it takes.

Because he doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to.

He just takes you. Slow at first, but deep. Like his body is working something out on its own. He spreads your legs wide over his thighs and sinks in with one brutal push, filling you so completely you whimper from the stretch alone. But he doesn’t coo or tease or ask you how it feels.

No dirty talk, no “you like that?” or “such a good girl.” Just a hand wrapped around your throat—not tight, just there—and his hips driving up into yours with a force that knocks the air from your lungs again and again. All you can hear are the wet sounds of your bodies connecting and the low, guttural grunts that escape him with each thrust.

The feel of you might be the only thing that makes everything else fade. It’s not gentle, but it’s not rough, either. It’s needy. A kind of closeness that speaks louder than anything else—like he’s asking without asking, can I have this, just this, just for now.

It’s punishing in the quietest way. Like he’s working something brutal out in his own head, and needs your body to absorb the blow.

You don’t speak, either. You just take it. Let him use you, fill you, fuck you until your legs are numb and your throat is raw from holding back cries that never made it past your lips. You clench around him and the only reaction he gives is to grip your hips tighter—tight enough it almost hurts—and push up into you faster, meaner.

Joe’s hand slides from your throat to the base of your neck, his palm splayed across your chest, holding you to him because the connection might be the only thing keeping him together.

Breath ragged now, less steady, you feel the shift in him—the control he walked in with starting to slip. His rhythm stutters before snapping back, tighter. Desperate. His teeth clamp down on your shoulder while his other hand fists into the hem of your shirt, an unspoken plea to hold on a little longer.

At some point, he’s not fucking you anymore so much as chasing something inside himself—slamming up into you with that final, brutal push of desperation. You’re jerking from the aftershocks, nerves frayed and twitching, but you take it.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulls you down hard onto him like he needs you locked in place. Like even a breath of space might break him open. His cock twitches inside you, deep and pulsing, and your body reacts on instinct—hips jolting, muscles spasming, overstimulated and raw. Every aftershock leaves you more breathless than the one before, but Joe holds you through it like he can feel it too.

His forehead presses to your chest, unmoving. One arm tight around your back, the other still curled in the fabric of your shirt like he doesn’t know how to let go.

That’s the way some of those nights play out.

And then, sometimes, it’s the opposite.

Nights when it’s you who can’t get enough. When your body aches just from the sound of his voice. When your brain turns to static and your thighs clench without thought, soaked before he even touches you.

You reach for him blindly, tugging at his shirt, scrabbling at his waistband like you’ve forgotten how to function without him. Clothes come off somewhere in the chaos—yours, his—tugged, dropped, forgotten. Your hips arch into nothing, your breath catching in your throat.

“Need you, Joe—please, I need it so bad, I can’t—please, just—”

But the words always collapse mid-sentence. You’re too far gone to finish.

And he just stares at you.

Silent. Cold. Jaw clenched so tight you can see the muscle ticking in his cheek.

It’s not that he doesn’t want you—he does. And it’s not even that he’s trying to be mean. But the way you squirm beneath him, already desperate for something you know he’s going to give you, it just pisses him off.

Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

Because the truth—the one he barely even admits to himself—is that it turns him on more than he can stand. The way you whimper and writhe, dripping before he’s even touched you—it ignites something primal inside him. Something he doesn’t like to examine too closely, not when it makes him feel this out of control.

Especially on these types of days. Nights when he comes home in a foul mood. When all he wants is you—all he needs is you.

And instead, here you are. Half gone before he’s even started. Desperate for him, just as much as he’s desperate for you.

It pulls something darker out of him. The part that wants to show you exactly how much control he still has. The part that wants to discipline your desperation. To press into it until you’re completely undone.

He exhales slowly, nose flaring, eyes dark. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, voice cutting. “Can’t shut up for two seconds, can you?”

You barely have time to blink before he shoves two fingers into your mouth, silencing whatever new plea was on the tip of your tongue.

Your lips wrap around them instinctively, jaw going slack as he pushes in deep—far enough that your throat tightens and your eyes flutter. He watches you, eyes narrowed, chest rising.

“You want it that bad?” he murmurs, pressing down harder on your tongue. His fingers slide deeper, until your gag reflex twitches again and you let out a soft, helpless noise around them. He holds them there, just long enough to see the flicker of embarrassment, of need, of surrender—and then pulls them out slowly, slick with spit that drips off your lip.

“Keep playing like this,” he shakes his head, “then don't be surprised with what you’re gonna get.”

Your breath stutters, body tensing.

In one swift movement, too fast to track, he's flipping you over, manhandling you until your cheek is pressed to the mattress and his hand is firm between your shoulder blades, holding you down. You barely have time to catch your breath before he yanks your hips up, drags your ass into the perfect angle, and spreads you open with rough, impatient hands.

The air hits your wet cunt and you gasp. You feel exposed, dripping, stretched open by nothing but anticipation. Your body twitches with need, chasing friction that isn’t there.

But Joe doesn’t give you time to recover. Doesn’t give you anything.

Just lines up behind you and drives in deep with one brutal, punishing thrust. No easing in. No warning. Not even hesitation. Just the bruising stretch of him forcing your body to take all of him in one unbearable motion, until your mouth falls open and there’s nothing left in your head but white noise and the searing burn of being filled too fast, too deep, all at once.

You cry out, hands clawing at the sheets.

He sets a pace that borders on cruel—fucking into you hard, fast, and relentlessly. Each thrust shoves you forward, each snap of his hips tearing the air from your lungs. And still, you won’t keep your mouth closed.

“Fuck—oh my god, Joe, yes—feels so good—more, please, harder, don’t stop—”

His hand claps over your mouth again before you can finish, muffling your sobs into the mattress.

“Shut up,” he growls, low and ragged. “You wanna get fucked like this? Then take it. Quiet.”

Whimpering into his palm, eyes fluttering, you don’t dare speak—but your body answers for you, pressing back into him, clenching around every thrust like you’re trying to hold him in.

He leans in, breath hot at your ear, voice like gravel sliding down your spine.

“I’ll give it to you, baby. You just shut that pretty little mouth and let me fuck it out of you.”

The words punch through the rhythm of his thrusts, each syllable backed by the hard slam of his hips. You moan beneath his palm, nodding, eyes wet, throat tight. You need this, need him like this. Harsh. Unforgiving. Pissed off. You need him to take it out on you.

He fucks you like he’s trying to break you open. The headboard—some heavy, imported thing he insisted on for the room, all dark-stained wood and clean lines—slams repeatedly against the wall, loud enough to echo. The mattress groans beneath his weight, high-end and still no match for the way he drives into you.

One hand holds you down like you’re nothing more than a pillow beneath him, pistoning into you until your thighs shake and your body starts to give out, until your vision washes white and your throat is raw from the sounds you weren’t even supposed to make.

That same hand never leaves your mouth. You’re gasping against his palm, panting through your nose, body jolting with every brutal thrust. One of your knees slips on the sheets, but he just hauls your hips back into place like it doesn’t matter—like all that matters is keeping you right there.

His grip on your hip tightens, fingers digging in deep, dragging you back onto his cock over and over like he can’t stand the thought of you slipping away for even a second. Sweat drips from his chest onto your back. His breath turns ragged, sharp with effort, with restraint, with something barely tethered beneath the surface.

You’re trembling. Wrecked. Practically sobbing from how deep he is. Your body’s slack and spasming, voice gone, mind blank—completely undone beneath him. And he knows it. You feel it in the way he keeps fucking into you like he’s chasing something only you can give him. Like you were made for this—for him.

When it’s over, he still says nothing.

Just pulls you into his chest again, arm wrapped tight around your waist, face buried in your hair—like if he holds you close enough, he won’t have to say a thing at all.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x you

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