luvlyseoul

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ my digital diary 17 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[lover-lila]

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ MASTERLIST

KPOP

CORTIS

she - martin edwards park (series)

all I need to hear - kim juhoon

everything I want - kim juhoon

ENHYPEN

diet pepsi - lee heeseung

dark red - lee heeseung

you’re here that’s the thing - sim jake

all I did was dream of you - sim jake

alcohol-free - sim jake

aquamarine - sim jake

when did you get hot? - yang jungwon

don’t smile - ni-ki

BOYNEXTDOOR

tba

ATEEZ

tba

Formula 1

tba

NHL

tba

[lover-lila]

AQUAMARINE

🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ nerd!jake x fem!reader

°‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ now playing ‘aquamarine’ - Addison Rae

synopsis: a sweet aquarium date with Jake, where his excitement over every creature is almost as adorable as the way he lights up whenever he gets to share his interests with you.

content warnings: none

word count: 736

Jake had been trying to act normal for the past ten minutes.

He really had.

But the second they stepped inside the aquarium, any attempt at playing it cool disappeared. His eyes immediately widened at the enormous tank stretching across the wall in front of them, blue light spilling across his face as colourful fish darted between pieces of coral and rocks.

“Wait—look at those.”

You followed his gaze to a pair of bright orange-and-white clownfish weaving through the tentacles of a sea anemone.

“They’re clownfish,” Jake said, already smiling. “And they actually have a really cool relationship with anemones.”

You glanced at him. “You say that like they’re best friends.”

“They kind of are.” He leaned closer to the glass. “The anemone has stinging cells in its tentacles, but clownfish can live among them without getting stung. It gives them somewhere to hide from predators.”

“So the clownfish gets protection and the anemone gets…?”

“Leftovers. And the clownfish can help keep the area around the anemone clean.”

You looked back at the fish. “You really know this stuff.”

Jake shrugged, though the grin on his face made it obvious he was pleased.

“I like learning random things.”

“Clearly.”

They continued through the exhibit, but Jake seemed physically incapable of walking past anything without stopping. A school of tiny silver fish sent him into another explanation about schooling behaviour, while a brightly coloured blue tang had him practically pressing his nose against the glass.

“That one,” he said excitedly. “That’s a blue tang.”

You looked at the blue-and-yellow fish gliding gracefully through the tank.

“It looks like Dory.”

“It is basically Dory.”

“Jake.”

“What?”

“You’re literally quoting a children’s film.”

“I’m making an accurate scientific observation.”

You laughed, and Jake shook his head before pointing towards the fish again.

“They’re surgeonfish, actually. They have a sharp spine near the base of their tail, which is where the name comes from. It’s basically a defence mechanism.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So Dory has a weapon?”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“She does.”

Jake laughed, finally moving away from the glass.

“You’re ruining the magic.”

“You’re the one giving me a biology lecture.”

“I’m educating you.”

“You’re obsessed.”

“Maybe.”

The admission came so easily that you paused.

Jake seemed to realise what he’d said a second later and cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in the next exhibit.

You smiled to herself as you followed him.

The seahorse exhibit was quieter, with small creatures drifting among strands of sea grass and coral. At first, you couldn’t even see them.

“There’s one.”

Jake pointed towards a tiny seahorse curled around a piece of vegetation.

You leaned closer. “That’s so small.”

“Some species are tiny. They can also change colour to blend into their surroundings.”

He watched the little creature carefully before adding, “And the males carry the babies.”

You looked at him.

“The males?”

“Yeah.” Jake’s eyes lit up again. “The female transfers her eggs into the male’s brood pouch, and he carries them until they’re ready to be born.”

You smiled. “You’re really excited about this.”

“I just think it’s cool.”

“You think everything here is cool.”

“Because everything here is cool.”

You laughed quietly, watching as Jake continued staring through the glass.

There was something strangely endearing about it.

He wasn’t trying to impress you. He wasn’t putting on some carefully constructed version of himself. He was simply excited, openly and unapologetically, about the things he loved.

And somehow, that made the date even better.

Eventually, they reached the jellyfish exhibit.

The room was darker than the others, illuminated by the soft glow of enormous tanks. Jellyfish floated through the water in slow, almost weightless movements, their translucent bodies catching the blue and purple light.

For once, Jake didn’t immediately start talking.

He simply stood beside you, watching.

“They’re pretty,” you whispered.

“Yeah.”

A moment passed.

Then Jake glanced at you.

“Still think I’m a nerd?”

You smiled. “Absolutely.”

He laughed under his breath.

“But,” you added, “I think it’s cute.”

His smile softened.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jake looked back towards the jellyfish, trying and failing to hide how pleased he was.

“Good,” he murmured.

You nudged your shoulder against his.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He smiled.

“I just like being here with you.”

And somehow, surrounded by glowing jellyfish and the quiet hum of the aquarium, she thought that might have been her favourite thing he’d said all day.

[lover-lila]

DARK RED

⋆°｡⋆୨🍒୧⋆°｡⋆ obsessed bf!heeseung x obsessed fem!reader

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🍷✧˚.⋆ now playing ‘dark red’ - Steve Lacy

synopsis: on the surface, he’s the perfect boyfriend—attentive, protective, and completely devoted—but Lee Heeseung has no idea that his girlfriend matches his intensity in ways he’d never expect. While he quietly centers his world around her, she hides a deeper, more consuming obsession—memorizing every detail, every habit, every glance—careful to never let it slip. What he sees as love, she lives as fixation, and the line between the two grows thinner with every passing moment.

content warnings: porn w plot, oral (m and f receiving), dumbification, heavy makeouts, back shots (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, spit kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), pet names, rough sex, spanking, fingering, obsessive behaviour from both.

word count: 1,749

There’s something about the way Lee Heeseung looks at you that makes people jealous.

It’s obvious, almost painfully so—how his eyes follow you even in crowded rooms, how his hand always finds yours without thinking, how he memorises your expressions like they mean more than anything else in the world. To everyone else, it’s intense. A little too intense. The kind of love people whisper about when you’re not around.

But they don’t know the half of it.

Because while Heeseung thinks he’s the one who’s deeply, hopelessly attached… he has no idea you’re worse.

Much worse.

You notice everything. The exact second his smile falters, the way his voice drops when he’s tired, the pattern of his texts when he misses you but doesn’t want to say it outright. You’ve memorised his schedule, his favourite snacks, the songs he plays when he can’t sleep. Not because you have to—but because you need to. Because loving him feels like something that requires precision, attention, devotion.

Control.

And yet, you hide it so well.

To him, you’re soft. Sweet. A little clingy, maybe—but in a way that makes his chest warm instead of uneasy. He loves that you lean into him, that you let him take care of you, that you look at him like he’s everything.

He doesn’t realise that when you look at him like that, it’s not admiration.

It’s possession.

The funny thing is—he’s not as unaware as you think.

Heeseung knows he’s obsessed with you. He knows it in the way he gets irritated when someone else makes you laugh too hard, in the way he checks his phone too often when you don’t reply, in how he sometimes grips your hand just a little tighter than necessary, like he’s reminding both of you that you’re his.

He just doesn’t realise… you feel the exact same way.

So when you sit across from each other, sharing quiet glances that linger just a second too long, both of you think you’re the only one holding something dangerous beneath the surface.

Both of you think you’re the one hiding it better.

And maybe that’s what makes it perfect.

Or what makes it doomed.

Because one day, the line between love and obsession won’t blur anymore—

it’ll snap.

────୨ৎ────

He’s quieter than usual when you mention it.

“Just a small thing,” you say lightly, like it doesn’t matter. “Me and the girls are going out tonight.”

Lee Heeseung hums in response, nodding once, but his eyes don’t leave you. They linger—too long, too focused—like he’s trying to read something underneath your words.

“Where?” he asks.

You shrug, naming the place, still casual. “Some of their friends are coming too.”

That’s when it shifts.

Not obvious. Not dramatic. Just… subtle.

His jaw tightens for a second before he relaxes it, leaning back like he’s unaffected. “Friends?”

“Yeah,” you say, scrolling through your phone. “A few guys, I think. You know how it is.”

Silence.

It stretches just enough to feel strange.

When you look up, he’s already staring at you.

Not angry—Heeseung doesn’t get angry like that. It’s worse. It’s controlled. Measured. His gaze drags over your face like he’s trying to memorise it, like he’s trying to decide something.

“You didn’t mention that before.”

You blink. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“It matters,” he says quietly.

There’s no raise in his voice, no sharpness—but something about the way he says it makes your chest feel tight. Like the room has shrunk just a little.

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes still locked on you.

“Are you dressing like that?”

Your breath catches—not because of what he said, but how he said it. Low. Careful. Like he’s holding something back.

You glance down at your outfit. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” he replies quickly, but his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck—a rare tell. “It just…”

He exhales, shaking his head slightly, like he’s trying to stop himself.

“I don’t like the idea of other people looking at you like that.”

There it is.

Not a demand. Not a command.

A confession.

And that somehow feels heavier.

You tilt your head, watching him now the same way he’s been watching you. “Like what?”

His eyes flicker—just for a second—before settling back on yours.

“Like they think they have a chance.”

The air between you goes still.

Because he’s not joking.

Heeseung reaches for your wrist then, thumb brushing lightly over your skin, but his grip lingers a second too long. Not enough to hurt—just enough to remind.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, almost under his breath.

And maybe he doesn’t realise how possessive it sounds.

Or maybe he does.

────୨ৎ────

By the time you step through the door, the quiet hits you first—too still, too expectant—and then you see him. Lee Heeseung is already there on the couch, exactly where you weren’t expecting him to be, elbows resting on his knees as if he’s been waiting longer than he should admit. The TV is on but muted, casting a soft glow over his face, and his eyes lift the second he hears you, locking onto you like you never really left his mind at all. His gaze drifts slowly, deliberately, taking in your outfit, your hair, every small detail, and there’s something unreadable sitting just beneath the surface—something calm, but tight, like he’s been holding onto a thought for hours.

“You’re back late,” he says, voice low and even, but the way he leans back, still watching you without blinking, makes it clear he’s been counting every minute.

“I didn’t mean to be”, you responded with a slight smirk. “I guess I lost track of time”.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm”

Heeseung abruptly stands up and slowly walks towards you, heightening the already tensions filled room. His tall figure towered over you has his piercing eyes roamed all over you. Until finally he spoke.

"Did you miss me, baby?" he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous vibrate against your skin. He didn't wait for an answer, his mouth crashing onto yours in a heavy, desperate makeout session. It wasn't a gentle kiss; it was a claim. He tasted of mint and hunger, his tongue sweeping through your mouth with an urgency that mirrored the way you clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him as close as physically possible.

You pulled back just an inch, your eyes glazed with a matching obsession. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. Every second. Every breath," you whispered, the truth slipping out. Heeseung’s eyes darkened, a smirk tugging at his lips. He loved how much you needed him, unaware that you had spent your entire day analyzing the way he’d texted you, tracing the patterns of his devotion.

He dragged you to your shared bedroom and shoved you down onto the bed, his movements rough and commanding. He stripped you bare in seconds, his eyes scanning every inch of your body as if he were memorizing a map he already knew by heart.

"Good girl," he praised, the words sending a shiver of heat straight to your core. "Such a needy little thing for me."

He moved between your legs, his fingers diving inside you without warning. He fingered you aggressively, stretching you open, his thumb grinding against your clit in a rhythmic, punishing pace. You arched your back, a loud moan escaping you, your head tossing back against the pillows.

"Look at you," he groaned, leaning down to spit directly onto your clit, the warm moisture slicking the area before he began to suck on you. He devoured you, his tongue flicking and swirling with a focused intensity, drinking in every drop of your arousal. You gripped his hair, pulling him closer, your hips bucking wildly.

When you finally managed to pull him up, you didn't let him breathe. You pushed him back, forcing him onto his back and sliding down his body. You took his cock into your mouth with a hunger that surprised even him. You sucked him deep, your throat tightening around him, swirling your tongue around the head and swallowing the pre-cum with a desperate greed. You wanted every part of him inside you, in any way possible.

Heeseung let out a choked sound, his hand coming down to slap your ass hard, the sound echoing in the room. "Fuck, you're so obsessed with me, aren't you? Just a mindless little slut for your boyfriend."

The "dumbification" of the praise made your brain go fuzzy, stripping away everything but the raw need to please him. You looked up at him, eyes wide and vacant of anything but lust. "Yes... just yours. I'm nothing but yours, Heeseung."

He flipped you over instantly, shoving your face into the mattress and hiking your hips high. He didn't use a condom—he didn't want anything between him and the woman who belonged to him. He entered you in one heavy, brutal thrust, a loud gasp escaping your lips as he filled you completely.

He started delivering heavy back shots, his body slamming against yours with a rhythmic, wet thud. Every thrust was deep, hitting your cervix and leaving you breathless. He reached forward, grabbing your hair to pull your head back, whispering filth into your ear.

"You love this, don't you? Being used like this? You're so fucking empty without me inside you," he growled, his voice thick with possessiveness.

"More... please, Heeseung, fuck me harder!" you sobbed, your voice breaking.

He obliged, his pace becoming frantic, rough and unyielding. He spanked your thighs and ass between thrusts, the stinging pain only adding to the pleasure. He was claiming every inch of you, and you were soaking it in, your mind completely gone, reduced to nothing but a vessel for his obsession.

As he reached his peak, he gripped your hips so hard he'd leave bruises, burying himself as deep as he could go. He groaned your name, a guttural sound of total surrender and dominance, as he came deep inside you, filling you with his heat.

He collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily, his heart hammering against your back. He kissed the nape of your neck, his voice returning to that sweet, protective tone that hid the monster underneath.

"I've got you, baby. You're never leaving this bed."

And as you lay there, drenched in sweat and seed, you smiled against the pillow, knowing that you would never let him go either.

[lover-lila]

EVERYTHING I WANT

˙ . ꒷ 🪼 . 𖦹˙— bf!juhoon x fem!reader

⋆˚꩜｡🫧🐋 now playing ‘everything I want’ - beabadoobee

synopsis: Juhoon may not be the most grand or extravagant boyfriend, but he loves you in all the little ways that matter. He notices everything—the changes in your mood, the things you love, the things you never say—and somehow always knows exactly what you need. To you, he isn’t just a perfect boyfriend. He’s everything you could ever want.

word count: 1,280

There was something about Juhoon that made being loved feel incredibly easy.

He was not the type of boyfriend who needed to constantly prove how much he cared. He did not need grand gestures or elaborate surprises to make his feelings obvious. Instead, his affection lived in the smallest things, in moments that could easily be overlooked if someone wasn’t paying attention. Juhoon paid attention to everything. He remembered the things you mentioned once in passing, noticed when your usual smile looked a little different, and somehow always seemed to know what you needed before you had even figured it out yourself.

He knew your moods almost instinctively.

He could tell when you were genuinely happy by the way you spoke a little faster, when you were excited because you would start talking with your hands, and when something was bothering you because you became noticeably quieter. It was never anything dramatic. Sometimes it was as simple as the way you stopped reaching for your favourite snack or the way your replies became shorter than usual. Juhoon noticed those things because, to him, they mattered.

You could tell him you were fine and he would not argue with you. He would simply look at you for a moment, quietly assessing your expression before asking, “Do you want me to stay with you?”

It was never, What’s wrong with you? or Why are you acting like that?

It was always an offer.

If you wanted to talk, he listened. If you didn’t, he never forced you to. Sometimes he would simply sit beside you, close enough that you knew he was there without making you feel like you had to explain yourself.

That was what made Juhoon so special.

He knew that loving someone did not mean demanding every part of them at every moment. Sometimes love was knowing when to speak and when to sit quietly beside someone. Sometimes it was remembering their favourite drink and bringing it home without being asked. Sometimes it was sending a message because he knew they had an important day ahead and wanted them to wake up knowing someone was thinking about them.

And Juhoon did all of it so naturally.

He would remember the smallest details you forgot you had ever told him.

If you casually mentioned that you liked a particular pastry, he would remember it weeks later. If you complained about having to wake up early the next morning, he would check in on you the following afternoon and ask how tired you were. If you mentioned that you had been listening to a certain song on repeat, he would eventually hear it himself and send you a message saying that he finally understood why you liked it so much.

He never made a big deal out of remembering.

Whenever you looked at him in disbelief and asked how he could possibly remember something you had mentioned months ago, he would simply shrug.

“Because you told me.”

As if that was explanation enough.

To Juhoon, listening when you spoke was not some special skill. It was just something he did because he cared about you. Every story, every little complaint, every random thought that crossed your mind was worth hearing simply because it came from your.

Even when you rambled.

Especially when you rambled.

He would sit there listening while you jumped from one topic to another, occasionally laughing when you realised halfway through a sentence that you had completely forgotten what you were originally talking about. He never made her feel embarrassed about it. Instead, he would smile and tell you to keep going, because he genuinely liked hearing what was on your mind.

There were days when you wondered how he managed to know you so well.

One afternoon, you had been unusually quiet while they were together. You hadn’t even realised it herself until Juhoon suddenly looked over at you.

“You haven’t said anything for ten minutes.”

You blinked. “Have I not?”

He smiled slightly. “No.”

“Maybe I’m just tired.”

“I know.”

There was something almost amusing about the way he said it, like he had already figured that out before you had.

You looked at him suspiciously. “How do you always know?”

“Know what?”

“When something’s wrong.”

Juhoon thought about it for a second before answering.

“I don’t know.”

He looked at you, expression softening.

“I just notice you.”

And somehow, that meant more than anything else could have.

Because you never wanted someone who simply liked the idea of you. You wanted someone who actually knew you. Someone who recognised the difference between your happy silence and your upset silence. Someone who knew when you wanted advice and when you only needed somebody to listen. Someone who noticed the little things without making you feel like you were being watched.

Juhoon was that person.

He noticed when you were cold and quietly offered his jacket without making a fuss. He noticed when you had forgotten to eat because you had been too busy and gently reminded you to take a break. He noticed when you were tired and made their plans slower, easier, quieter.

He noticed when you needed him during those difficult days.

But perhaps the sweetest part was that he noticed when you didn’t.

He never made you feel guilty for wanting time alone. If you told him she needed an evening to herself, he would simply tell you to enjoy it and message him whenever you felt like talking again. There was never insecurity or pressure attached to it.

He trusted you.

And because he trusted you, you felt safe enough to be completely yourself around him.

You could be loud. You could be quiet. You could be silly, tired, excited, emotional, distracted or completely indecisive about what you wanted for dinner. None of it ever seemed to change the way Juhoon looked at you.

He liked all of it.

There were moments when you would catch him watching you and ask what he was looking at, only for him to shake his head with that little smile of his.

“Nothing.”

“You were staring.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You definitely were.”

He would laugh then, looking away as though he had been caught doing something embarrassing.

But you knew.

He was simply watching you because he liked having you around.

And maybe that was what made him everything you could have asked for.

Not because he was flawless.

Not because he always knew exactly what to say.

Not because he could magically fix every bad day.

But because he tried to understand you. Because he listened. Because he remembered. Because he cared about the little things that made you who you were.

Juhoon’s love was quiet, but it was constant.

It was in the way he saved you a seat without being asked. It was in the way he remembered which things made you laugh. It was in the way he could tell when you needed encouragement and when you simply needed someone beside you.

It was in the way he looked at you like knowing you was something he considered a privilege.

And sometimes, when you looked at him and wondered how you had managed to find someone who understood you so naturally, you realised that maybe you didn’t need anything extravagant after all.

Because everything you could have wanted was already sitting beside you.

Juhoon was in the little things.

In the quiet understanding.

In the patience.

In the attention.

In every tiny moment where he reminded you that you were seen, heard and cared for.

He wasn’t everything you wanted because he was perfect.

He was everything you wanted because he made you feel perfectly understood.

[lover-lila]

ALCOHOL-FREE

˚🥥⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ bf!jake x gf fem!reader

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🥭ɞ˚‧｡⋆ now playing ‘alcohol-free’ - Twice

synopsis: a warm summer afternoon at the beach with Jake turns into the kind of date neither of you wants to end. Between teasing each other in the sand, sharing snacks under the sun and watching the sunset together, you realise that sometimes the simplest days with your favourite person become the memories you hold onto the longest.

word count: 1,991

The first thing you noticed when you saw Jake waiting for you was the picnic basket.

The second thing you noticed was the ridiculous grin spreading across his face the second he spotted you.

And the third thing was the fact that he had somehow managed to carry a beach bag, a picnic basket, two towels, an umbrella and what looked suspiciously like an entire convenience store all by himself.

“You know we’re only spending the day here, right?” you asked as you approached him, trying not to laugh.

Jake looked down at everything in his hands before looking back at you with complete confidence.

“Of course.”

“Then why do you have enough food to feed twenty people?”

“Because I know you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It does.” He smiled, finally putting everything down on the sand. “You get hungry every two hours.”

“I do not.”

“You absolutely do.”

“I can go longer than two hours without eating.”

Jake gave you a look.

You sighed.

“Okay, maybe I can’t.”

“I knew it.”

He looked far too pleased with himself.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto your face as he reached for your hand. His fingers slipped easily between yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before he leaned down to press a quick kiss against your temple.

“Hi,” he murmured.

“Hi.”

“You look pretty.”

The compliment was so casual that you almost missed the way his eyes lingered on you for a second longer.

You looked away, suddenly shy. “You say that every time you see me.”

“Because it’s true every time I see you.”

“Jake.”

“What?”

“You’re cheesy.”

“And you’re smiling.”

You immediately tried to hide it.

He laughed.

“Come on,” he said, picking up the basket again. “I’ve got a whole date planned.”

That alone made you pause.

“A whole date?”

“Mhm.”

“You planned this?”

“Obviously.”

There was something ridiculously endearing about the pride on his face.

You followed him down towards the quieter part of the beach, where the sand stretched out beneath the warm afternoon sun. The sea was calm enough that the waves rolled gently onto the shore, leaving a thin layer of foam before retreating again.

Jake had clearly thought about everything.

He found a spot away from the busiest part of the beach, spread out the blanket, positioned the umbrella so you would have shade and then immediately reached into the bag.

You watched him suspiciously.

“What?”

“You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you pretend you haven’t planned something when you’ve obviously planned something.”

He smiled.

“Maybe.”

He pulled out a pair of sunglasses and handed them to you.

“Put these on.”

You stared at him.

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to complain about the sun in five minutes.”

“I wasn’t going to complain.”

“You were thinking about complaining.”

“I wasn’t.”

Jake simply smiled.

You put them on.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Then he pulled out a cold bottle of water.

You laughed.

“Jake!”

“What?”

“You brought everything.”

“I told you I was prepared.”

“You’re basically someone’s dad.”

He gasped dramatically.

“That’s actually hurtful.”

You laughed as he placed the water beside you.

“Come here.”

You shifted closer, and Jake immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his side.

For a while, neither of you said anything.

You just sat there.

The sound of the waves filled the silence while the breeze moved gently through your hair. Jake’s thumb absentmindedly traced little circles against your shoulder, and every now and then he would glance down at you as though checking that you were comfortable.

Eventually, you rested your head against him.

“This is nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

He pressed his cheek lightly against the top of your head.

“I wanted today to be nice.”

You looked up at him.

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you?”

He shrugged, looking out towards the ocean.

“Because I wanted to spend time with you.”

The answer was simple.

No big declaration.

No dramatic speech.

Just Jake being Jake.

You smiled and tucked yourself closer into his side.

“You’re really good at this boyfriend thing.”

He looked down at you.

“I’m trying.”

“You don’t have to try that hard.”

“I know.”

He paused.

“But I like making you happy.”

Your heart gave a little flutter.

You looked away before he could see how much that affected you.

Unfortunately, Jake noticed anyway.

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Shut up.”

He laughed.

“Cute.”

You lightly pushed his shoulder.

“Stop.”

He caught your hand before you could pull it away and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Never.”

Eventually, Jake decided it was time to eat.

The picnic was almost comically excessive.

There were sandwiches, fruit, crisps, little pastries, drinks and several snacks that you had casually mentioned liking weeks ago and completely forgotten about.

You stared at them.

“You remembered these?”

“Of course.”

“When did I tell you I liked them?”

Jake thought for a second.

“Like…a month ago?”

You looked at him in disbelief.

“A month?”

“Yeah.”

“And you remembered?”

He shrugged like it was obvious.

“You like them.”

Something about that made your chest feel warm.

It wasn’t really about the snacks.

It was the fact that he listened.

You could tell him something once, in passing, and somehow he’d remember.

He’d remember your favourite drink order. The snacks you liked. Which side of the pavement you preferred walking on. The fact that you hated getting sand in your shoes. The fact that you always got cold when the sun went down.

He remembered things because they were things about you.

And that was what made them matter.

“You’re staring,” he said.

You blinked.

“Sorry.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

You smiled softly.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“How much I like you.”

Jake’s expression softened immediately.

“Oh.”

You smiled.

“Yeah. Oh.”

He leaned closer.

“I like you too.”

“Only like?”

He pretended to think.

“Hmm.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“Jake.”

“Okay, okay.” He laughed. “I really, really like you.”

“Better.”

He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“There.”

You smiled.

After lunch, the two of you wandered down towards the water.

Jake immediately noticed you hesitating at the edge.

“What?”

You looked at the waves.

“It’s cold.”

He nodded seriously.

“It is.”

“So I’m not going in.”

“Okay.”

You looked at him suspiciously.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

He took your hand.

“We don’t have to go in.”

There was no teasing.

No trying to convince you.

No pretending that you were being boring.

He simply accepted it.

And somehow, that made you change your mind.

“Maybe just my feet.”

Jake smiled.

“Okay.”

He rolled up his trousers, carefully took your hand and walked with you into the shallow water.

The first wave touched your ankles.

You immediately squealed.

“Oh my God!”

Jake laughed.

“It’s freezing!”

“You said it was cold!”

“Not this cold!”

You grabbed his arm, trying to steady yourself as another wave rolled in.

Jake looked down at you, laughing so hard that his eyes nearly disappeared.

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“You’re adorable.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.”

He squeezed your hand.

You stood there together for a moment, letting the waves wash around your feet.

Then Jake suddenly looked at you with that familiar mischievous expression.

You knew immediately.

“No.”

“I haven’t even said anything.”

“I know that look.”

“What look?”

“That look.”

He grinned.

You backed away.

“Jake.”

He stepped towards you.

“Don’t.”

“I wouldn’t do anything.”

“You’re lying.”

“I would never.”

Another wave came towards you.

You squealed and jumped backwards, and Jake laughed as he caught your hand before you could stumble.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

He smiled.

“Good.”

Then, much more gently, he brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

The teasing disappeared from his expression.

For a second, the world seemed quieter.

The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, painting the water with golden light. The breeze moved around you, and Jake’s hand remained loosely wrapped around yours.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I could get used to this.”

“To what?”

“This.”

He gestured vaguely between the two of you.

“Beach dates?”

“Being with you.”

Your smile softened.

“You’re going to make me cry.”

“Don’t cry.”

“Why?”

“Because then I’ll cry.”

You laughed.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe.”

He squeezed your hand.

“But I’m serious.”

You looked at him.

“I know.”

The two of you eventually returned to the blanket as the afternoon turned into evening.

Jake noticed you shivering almost immediately.

“You’re cold.”

“A little.”

Without hesitation, he took off his hoodie and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“You’re going to be cold.”

“I’ll survive.”

“Jake—”

“Put it on.”

You smiled and pulled it around yourself.

It smelled like him.

You looked at him.

“Thank you.”

He smiled.

“Always.”

You sat beside him beneath the slowly darkening sky, your legs stretched out in front of you.

Jake reached for your hand again.

Neither of you needed to say anything.

The beach had become quieter now. Most of the people had left, leaving only the occasional sound of laughter somewhere further down the shore.

You rested your head against Jake’s shoulder.

He rested his head against yours.

Then, after a few minutes, he lifted his phone.

“Picture.”

You looked at him.

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because I want one.”

He opened the camera and pulled you closer.

You smiled at the screen.

Jake looked at you instead.

“Jake, look at the camera.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re looking at me.”

“I know.”

You laughed.

The picture captured the moment anyway.

Your smile.

His eyes on you.

The sunset behind you.

The hoodie around your shoulders.

And the quiet happiness of being together.

Jake looked at the picture afterwards.

“That’s going to be my favourite.”

“You can’t even see the sunset properly.”

“I don’t care.”

You looked at him.

He looked back.

“What?”

“You’re really cheesy.”

He smiled.

“And you love it.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

As the sky darkened, Jake began packing everything away. He made sure you had your things, shook the sand from the blanket and even checked the area twice to make sure neither of you had left anything behind.

When he was finally finished, he held out his hand.

“Ready?”

You took it.

“Ready.”

You started walking along the shoreline together, your hands swinging gently between you.

After a few steps, Jake squeezed your hand.

“Did you have fun?”

You looked at him.

“The best.”

He smiled.

“Good.”

You leaned against his arm as you walked.

“Thank you for today.”

He glanced down at you.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I want to.”

“Then you’re welcome.”

You smiled.

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before continuing to walk beside you.

And as you watched the sun disappear beyond the horizon, you realised that maybe this was what made Jake such a perfect boyfriend.

It wasn’t the picnic.

It wasn’t the beach.

It wasn’t even the carefully planned date.

It was the little things.

The way he remembered.

The way he listened.

The way he noticed when you were cold.

The way he never made you feel like you were asking for too much.

The way he could make you laugh until your stomach hurt and then, five minutes later, make your heart feel impossibly full with something as simple as holding your hand.

With Jake, love never felt like something you had to question.

It felt easy.

It felt warm.

It felt like sunshine on your skin and the sound of waves in the distance.

And as he walked beside you, fingers intertwined with yours, Jake glanced over and smiled.

You smiled back.

Maybe you didn’t need anything more than this.

Just him.

Just you.

And another ordinary day that somehow felt like one you’d remember forever.

[lover-lila]

SHE

chapter 3 - let the light in

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ punk rock!martin x fem!reader ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙— now playing ‘let the light in’ - Lana del Rey

synopsis: in a world where martin lives loud, reckless, and unapologetically punk, you exist in soft colours, sweet scents, and quiet comfort. you shouldn’t fit into his life—and he definitely shouldn’t fit into yours—but somehow, your worlds collide in a way neither of you can ignore. between late nights, messy emotions, and stolen moments, martin finds himself drawn to the one person who sees past the chaos, and you discover that even the roughest hearts can learn to be gentle.

word count: 981

By the time they finally left the record shop, the afternoon had settled properly over the town.

The rain had disappeared completely, leaving behind a pale stretch of sunlight that reflected off the windows of the shops lining the street. The pavement was still slightly damp beneath their feet, and every now and then a breeze moved between the buildings, cool enough to make her pull her sleeves further over her hands.

You stepped outside first, the record shop’s bell chiming behind you.

Martin followed a few seconds later.

You adjusted the bag hanging from your shoulder, careful with the record inside, and glanced down the street.

“Well,” you said, “I should probably go.”

“Probably.”

You looked at him.

He looked back.

Neither moved.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you waiting for something?”

“No.”

“Then why are you still standing here?”

Martin glanced down the street before shrugging.

“I was thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

He smiled.

“I was thinking you might like the shops further down.”

You stared at him for a moment.

“I know where the shops are.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t.”

“You’re offering to show me around my own town.”

“I’m offering to show you around.”

“I’ve lived here for years.”

“Have you?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“You don’t look like you know where you’re going.”

You gave him an incredulous look.

“I literally just came out of a shop.”

“Exactly.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Didn’t say it did.”

You laughed, shaking you head as you started walking.

Martin fell into step beside her.

You noticed almost immediately.

But you didn’t say anything at first.

Neither did he.

They walked past a row of small independent shops, their windows filled with clothes, books and things neither of them seemed particularly interested in buying. You knew the street well enough to recognise most of the places without looking at their signs, but Martin kept pointing things out anyway.

“There’s a decent café around the corner.”

“I know.”

“They do good pastries.”

“I’ve been there.”

“Right.”

A few seconds passed.

“There’s a little bookshop down here too.”

“I know.”

Martin looked at you.

“You really do know everything.”

“I told you.”

“You could’ve let me pretend I was useful.”

“I didn’t realise that was important to you.”

“It is now.”

You smiled.

He continued walking beside you anyway.

They turned down a quieter street, where the noise from the main road faded behind them. The buildings became older here, their brick fronts interrupted by little shop windows and narrow doorways. Martin walked slightly ahead, occasionally looking back to make sure you were still following.

You noticed the pattern.

Every time you slowed down, he slowed down too.

Every time you stopped to look at something in a window, he waited.

Eventually, you stopped altogether.

Martin took another step before realising you weren’t beside him anymore.

He turned.

“What?”

You folded folded arms.

“Are you following me?”

He looked genuinely offended.

“Following you?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“You’ve been walking next to me for the last fifteen minutes.”

“We’re going the same way.”

“You suggested the direction.”

“Coincidence.”

“You’ve shown me three places I already knew existed.”

“You’re welcome.”

You laughed.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m helpful.”

“You’re bored.”

“Maybe.”

There it was.

The smallest crack in his excuse.

You smiled.

“You just wanted to keep talking to me.”

Martin’s expression changed for half a second.

Not enough for you to be sure you caught it.

Then he recovered.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m not.”

“Good.”

“You’re the one who followed me out of the shop.”

“I was going this way.”

“You were in the opposite direction.”

He paused.

“That was unfortunate.”

You laughed so loudly that a couple walking further ahead glanced back.

Martin shook his head, smiling despite himself.

“Fine.”

“Fine what?”

“Maybe I didn’t have anywhere to be.”

You softened slightly.

“Neither do I.”

For some reason, that seemed to settle something between them.

They started walking again.

This time, neither pretended it was accidental.

The conversation drifted away from music almost without either of them noticing. They talked about the town, about places they liked and places they avoided, about how every café seemed to have the same overpriced menu and how neither of them understood why people willingly paid extra for drinks that were mostly foam.

Martin had a habit of making sarcastic comments under his breath, particularly when they passed somewhere he clearly disliked.

You found yourself waiting for them.

Every time he made one, you had something to say back.

“You know,” you said eventually, “you’re surprisingly easy to talk to.”

He glanced sideways at you.

“Surprisingly?”

“I expected you to be more annoying.”

“I am annoying.”

“I know.”

“And yet you’re still here.”

You smiled.

“So are you.”

He didn’t have an answer for that.

For once.

They reached the end of the street, where the road opened back onto the busier part of town.

You slowed down.

Martin noticed.

“This you?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded.

“Right.”

Neither of them immediately said goodbye.

You looked at him, then at the street behind them.

“You’ve basically spent your entire afternoon following me around.”

“I showed you around.”

“I showed myself around.”

“You were there. I was moral support.”

You laughed.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Martin smiled.

You adjusted your bag again and started walking backwards for a few steps.

“See you around, punk boy.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Punk boy?”

“You’ve earned it.”

“That’s terrible.”

“You’ll survive.”

You turned and continued down the street.

Martin stood there for a moment, watching her disappear into the crowd.

He could have gone back to the record shop.

He could have gone home.

Instead, he stood there with a faint smile on his face, wondering when exactly a completely ordinary Saturday had turned into an afternoon spent following around a girl he’d met by accident.

He didn’t have an answer.

Not yet.

[lover-lila]

ALL I DID WAS DREAM OF YOU

✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ jake x f!reader

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮ now playing ‘all I did was dream of you’ - beabadoobee ft the marías

synopsis: after one too many failed dates, you’ve started to wonder if the kind of love you want even exists. men who don’t take you seriously, men who give you too much, men who give you too little — somehow, nothing ever feels right. Until one night, you dream about him. The perfect man. The kind you’ve prayed for without ever knowing his name, and when you wake up, you think that’s all he’ll ever be — a dream. Until you meet Jake.

content warnings: soft dom!jake, sub!reader, heavy makeouts, praise kink, pet names, slight teasing, aftercare

word count: ?

COMING SOON…

[lover-lila]

DONT SMILE

🪽་༘ ex bf!ni-ki x ex gf!reader

✩°˖🫐 ⋆｡˚꩜ now playing ‘don’t smile’ - Sabrina Carpenter

synopsis: they broke up for a reason, but that never seems to matter when it comes to each other. Weeks of silence always end the same way—one late-night text, one more meeting, one more promise that it’s the last time. But every reunion feels too familiar, slipping back into something that never really left. The problem isn’t that they don’t care anymore—it’s that they care too much, just not in a way that works. And when he realises she might actually be okay without him, he can’t help but want one thing: for her to miss him the way he misses her.

content warnings: toxic relationship dynamics, on/off relationship, emotional conflict & arguments, themes of attachment and inability to let go, jealousy & possessiveness, implied heartbreak / lingering feelings, late-night meetups (suggestive), rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, multiple orgasms, breast play, oral (m and f receiving) , spanking, making out, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), overstimulation, fingering, soft dom!ni-ki, happy ending!

word count: 4,682

The silence between them had lasted three weeks this time. Three weeks of Ni-ki staring at his phone, tracing the outline of your contact name, wondering if you had finally found someone who didn't make you cry, or if you were staring at her ceiling wondering the same thing about him.

Then came the text. “Are you awake?”

It was 2:14 AM. It was a lie—they were both wide awake, haunted by the ghost of a relationship that refused to stay dead.

When he arrived at your door, the tension was thick enough to choke on. The moment she opened it, the air shifted. They didn't speak; they didn't need to. The arguments that had torn them apart—the jealousy, the suffocating possessiveness, the screaming matches that ended in shattered glass—were pushed to the periphery. All that mattered was the magnetic pull that always dragged them back into the same destructive orbit.

Ni-ki didn't wait for an invitation. He stepped inside, slammed the door shut, and pinned her against the wall. His hands were rough, gripping her waist with a desperation that bordered on aggression.

The tension was thick enough to choke on. The moment she opened it, the air shifted. They didn't speak; they didn't need to. Ni-ki didn't wait for an invitation. He stepped inside, slammed the door shut, and pinned you against the wall, his hands gripping your waist with a desperation that bordered on aggression.

"I heard you were seeing someone," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell me you're still mine. Tell me you haven't let anyone else touch you."

"We're broken up, Ni-ki," you breathed, though your hands were already sliding up his chest.

"You're never not mine," he growled, crashing his lips onto hers in a collision of teeth and tongue.

He pulled back just an inch, his breath hot. "You think you're okay without me? I can see it in your eyes. You're fucking starving for this."

The kiss was a war. It wasn't sweet or longing; it was a collision of teeth and tongue, a frantic attempt to reclaim territory. He tasted like mint and resentment. He pushed you further back, his knee forcing its way between your thighs, grinding against your center through your thin clothes.

"Look at you," he whispered, his voice dripping with a mix of degradation and desire. "So desperate for your ex. You're such a little slut for me, aren't you?"

He slid two fingers deep inside you without warning, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. He pumped them ruthlessly, his thumb circling your clit with a precision that knew exactly how to break you. He watched your face, savoring the way your eyes rolled back, the way you lost her grip on reality.

"That's it. Take it," he commanded, his voice shifting into that praise he knew you craved. "Good girl. Just take it for me."

Instead of rushing to the bedroom, Ni-ki decided to make her wait. He stepped back just enough to create a torturous gap between them, his eyes dark as he watched your chest heave. He slowly reached down, unbuckling his belt with a deliberate, clicking sound that echoed in the quiet hallway. He slid his trousers down, letting his hard, thick cock spring free.

"Get on your knees," he commanded.

You didn't hesitate. You sank to the floor, her eyes locked on him. Ni-ki didn't let you take him immediately. Every time you leaned in to lick the head of his cock, he gripped her hair and pulled your head back, forcing you to look up at him.

"Not yet," he teased, his voice a cruel purr. "I want you to beg for it. Tell me how much you missed this. Tell me how much you want to taste me."

"Please, Ni-ki... I want you. I missed you so much," you whimpered, her lips glistening.

"Good girl." He finally released his grip, pushing his cock deep into your throat. He groaned as your warm mouth clamped around him, the suction tight and desperate. He didn't let you set the pace; he gripped the back of your head, thrusting his hips forward, forcing you to take every inch of him. He loved the way you gagged slightly, the way your eyes watered, the sound of her struggling to breathe while you worked to please him. He fucked you mouth ruthlessly, his breath hitching as you used your tongue to swirl around the head, driving him toward a premature edge.

Just as he felt himself peaking, he pulled out with a wet pop.

"My turn," he whispered, a smirk playing on his lips.

He didn't give you time to recover. He grabbed you by the waist and hauled you up, spinning you around and shoving you face-down against the hallway table. He ripped your panties aside, exposing your soaking wet pussy to the air.

He didn't go inside you yet. Instead, he used his tongue to tease the outer lips, licking you slowly from bottom to top, making your hips twitch and her breath hitch. He flicked his tongue over your clit with agonizing precision, teasing the sensitive peak without fully committing to the pressure.

"You're so wet for me," he murmured against your skin, his voice vibrating through her. "Did you think about me while you were alone? Did you touch yourself and imagine it was my cock inside you?"

He suddenly dove in, his tongue swirling deep inside you, eating you out with a hunger that was almost violent. He sucked your clit into his mouth, pulling and swirling his tongue in a way that sent electric shocks through your entire body. You screamed, your fingers clawing at the edge of the table, your legs shaking. He knew exactly how to break you, alternating between soft, teasing licks and hard, demanding suction until you were sobbing, your body arching off the table in a desperate attempt to get closer to him.

He felt her muscles begin to spasm, the first wave of an orgasm hitting you, but he pulled away abruptly, leaving you shivering and overstimulated.

"Now," he growled, his voice thick with desire, "we go to the bed."

He dragged you towards the bedroom, the hunger between them now an uncontrollable fire. He stripped you bare in seconds, his eyes roaming over your body with a possessive hunger. He pushed you onto her stomach, flipping you over so your ass was hiked up.

Smack!

The sound of his palm hitting your cheek echoed in the room.

You cried out, a mixture of shock and arousal.

Smack!

"Who do you belong to?" he demanded, spanking you again, leaving a blooming red mark on you pale skin.

"You... I belong to you," you sobbed, your voice trembling.

Ni-ki groaned, the sound guttural. He didn't use a condom; he never did. The risk was part of the toxicity, the ultimate sign of a bond they couldn't sever. He entered you in one heavy, punishing thrust, filling you completely. He didn't start slow. He hammered into you, his hips slamming against yours with a rhythmic, violent intensity.

He reached around, grabbing your breasts and squeezing them hard, pulling you back against his chest as he fucked you. He whispered filth into your ear—how you were nothing without him, how no one else would ever handle you this way, how you were his favorite toy to break.

As the friction built, Ni-ki flipped you over, pinning your wrists above your head. He slowed down for a moment, staring deep into your eyes, wanting you to see the obsession there. He began to move again, shallower this time, hitting your G-spot with every thrust, driving you toward an edge you couldn't escape.

"Please," you whimpered, your body shaking. "Ni-ki, please..."

"Please what? Tell me what you want, you pathetic little thing," he teased, increasing the speed.

"I want to cum! Please let me cum!"

"Good girl," he whispered, his voice suddenly tender, though his movements remained rough. "Cum for me. Give it all to me."

You shattered, your internal muscles clamping tight around him as a violent orgasm ripped through her. Ni-ki didn't stop; he kept pushing, driving you into a second, then a third peak, overstimulating you until you were sobbing, your body twitching under his.

He finally let out a low roar, thrusting one last time as he came deep inside you, filling you with everything he had. He collapsed on top of you, their breathing synchronized, the silence returning to the room.

For a few minutes, they stayed like that—tangled, sweaty, and broken. The intimacy was a lie, a temporary bandage on a wound that wouldn't heal.

Ni-ki pulled away slowly, his expression hardening as the post-coital haze cleared. He looked at you, seeing the marks he'd left on your skin, and felt a surge of satisfaction. You wouldn't be thinking about anyone else for a long time.

"I'm leaving," he said coldly, already reaching for his clothes.

"Ni-ki..."

He stopped at the door, looking back over his shoulder with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "Don't worry. I'll text you in a few weeks."

────୨ৎ────

What was once a blissful moment had turned sour far too quickly. You hadn’t seen Ni-ki in exactly a month, and yet your mind refused to let go of that night. It lingered in fragments—his voice, the way he looked at you, the feeling he left behind like something you couldn’t quite wash off.

He had made you feel something no one else ever had, and maybe that was the problem.

Because now everything felt… muted in comparison.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know who you were without him—you did. You just didn’t like how it felt. Quieter. Emptier. Like something was missing that only he had ever managed to fill.

And no matter how much you tried to move on, your mind kept circling back to him, to the point where even the thought of someone else felt wrong—like you were comparing without meaning to.

You had tried reaching out at first. You told yourself it was only because you wanted to talk, because a month of silence felt ridiculous after everything the two of you had been through. Your first message had been simple, almost casual, but when hours passed without a response, you found yourself staring at your phone more often than you cared to admit. Eventually, you tried again.

Nothing.

So you had resorted to asking his friends, pretending it was nothing more than a passing question whenever his name slipped into conversation. Every single time, you received the same answer.

He’s busy.

Busy.

It had become almost laughable how often you heard it. Busy when you asked if he was around. Busy when you wondered if he was free to talk. Busy whenever you worked up enough courage to ask whether he had mentioned you at all.

And eventually, you stopped asking.

Not because you had stopped caring, but because you were beginning to hate the feeling of being the only one reaching for something that had already slipped through your fingers.

Still, a month later, you found yourself thinking about him as though no time had passed at all.

You hated that.

You hated how easily he could disappear from your life and somehow remain everywhere else—in your thoughts, in familiar places, in songs you couldn’t listen to anymore without remembering him. You hated that you could spend an entire day convincing yourself that you were finally moving on, only for one stupid memory to drag you straight back to the beginning.

Until tonight.

Because after exactly one month of silence, your phone finally lit up.

His name appeared across your screen.

And just like that, every promise you’d made to yourself about staying away from him suddenly felt impossible to keep.

────୨ৎ────

You shouldn’t be here

The thought had followed you the entire way, lingering at the back of your mind no matter how many times you tried to ignore it. It had been there when you picked out your outfit, when you stared at your reflection just a little too long, and even now, as you stood outside your friend’s place with music spilling faintly through the walls.

You almost turned around twice.

You told yourself you didn’t owe him anything. That you didn’t have to show up just because he texted. That one message—you coming?—shouldn’t have been enough to undo a month of distance.

And yet, here you were.

It’s just a party, you tried to reason with yourself. He probably invited half the people he knows. This doesn’t mean anything.

But even as you thought it, you knew it wasn’t true.

Nothing with Ni-ki had ever been just anything.

The moment you stepped inside, the noise hit you first—laughter, music, voices overlapping—but none of it settled. It all felt distant, like background noise to something else, something heavier sitting in your chest.

You hated how quickly your eyes started searching.

Stop it, you told yourself immediately. You’re not here for him.

You tried to focus on anything else—faces you recognised, conversations you could join—but your attention kept slipping, drifting back to the same thought.

Is he here yet?

This is stupid. You shouldn’t care.

You shouldn’t have come.

But before you could convince yourself to leave, your gaze caught on something—someone—and just like that, everything else faded.

Him.

He was standing across the room, half-turned, like he hadn’t noticed you yet. Or maybe he had, and he just hadn’t made it obvious. With him, it was hard to tell. It always had been.

Your chest tightened.

You shouldn’t go over there.

You shouldn’t even look at him.

You know exactly how this ends.

But your feet didn’t listen.

They never did when it came to him.

Each step felt slower than it should have, like your body was hesitating even as it moved forward. Part of you wanted to stop, to turn around, to pretend you hadn’t seen him at all.

Because you knew what this was.

Not closure. Not a fresh start.

Just another mistake waiting to happen.

He noticed you when you were close enough that turning back would’ve been obvious. His eyes flicked up, landing on yours, and for a second—just a second—everything stilled.

And there it was again.

That same pull you’d been trying to ignore for weeks.

You hated it.

You hated how nothing had changed.

“You came,” he said, like he hadn’t expected it, even though you both knew he had.

You forced a small shrug, crossing your arms like it might somehow steady you. “It’s a party,” you replied lightly. “Didn’t want to miss out on whatever mystery location you refused to explain.”

A hint of a smile tugged at his lips, familiar and frustrating all at once. “Did it matter?”

You let out a quiet breath, shaking your head. “It did to me.”

There was a pause, not awkward, but charged—like both of you were aware of everything sitting unspoken between you.

You shouldn’t be standing this close.

You shouldn’t be talking like this.

You shouldn’t feel this comfortable.

And yet, you did.

That was always the problem.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” he admitted, softer this time.

You frowned slightly, glancing away for a moment before looking back at him. “Yeah, well… I almost didn’t.”

That should’ve been enough. It should’ve been the moment you stepped back, created distance, reminded yourself why this was a bad idea.

Instead, you stayed.

Because despite everything—the silence, the hurt, the way he had disappeared without explanation—standing here with him still felt… right.

And that was exactly why it scared you.

“You look good, though,” Ni-ki smirked, like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like he was enjoying this far more than he should’ve been.

A part of him hoped you had dressed up for him.

Another part of him wondered if you hadn’t.

“Hm,” you hummed lightly, tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze. “You noticed?”

“I always notice when it comes to you, pretty.”

That shouldn’t have had the effect it did.

You knew him. You knew the way he spoke, the way he threw words around so easily, like they didn’t carry any weight. You knew he was probably just messing with you, slipping back into something familiar without thinking twice about it.

So why did it still feel like this?

Why did your heart stutter so suddenly, like it had forgotten how to act around him? Why did warmth creep up your neck, settling into your cheeks before you could stop it?

You shouldn’t react like this.

Not after everything.

Not after a month of silence that you’d spent trying to convince yourself you didn’t need him.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, looking away for a second as if that might help you regain some composure.

“I’m just telling the truth,” he replied easily. “Believe it or not.”

Of course he was.

That was always the problem.

For a second, neither of you said anything. The music thumped somewhere behind you, people brushed past, laughter spilling into the space around you—but it all felt distant. Like it had nothing to do with the two of you standing just a little too close in the middle of it all.

You became suddenly, painfully aware of it.

The distance.

Or lack of it.

You could feel the warmth radiating off him, close enough that it made your thoughts blur at the edges. Close enough that it would only take the smallest movement—

Don’t.

Your fingers twitched at your side before you quickly stilled them, pressing your nails into your palm as if that would ground you.

You know how this ends.

You know exactly what happens when you let him get this close.

“So,” you said, forcing your voice to stay steady, even as your chest tightened. “Is this what you do now? Text people out of nowhere and act like nothing happened?”

His expression shifted, just slightly. Not enough for anyone else to notice—but you did.

You always did.

“Not people,” he said quietly.

You frowned. “What?”

“Just you.”

That was worse.

That was so much worse.

Your breath caught before you could stop it, and you hated how quickly he noticed. His eyes flicked over your face, like he was searching for something—some kind of reaction, some kind of proof.

Don’t give him that.

You tried to step back.

Just a small step. Nothing obvious. Just enough to put space between you, enough to remind yourself that you weren’t that person anymore—the one who folded every time he looked at you like this.

But his hand caught your wrist before you could.

Not tight. Not forceful.

Just enough.

Just enough to stop you.

Your entire body went still.

This is a mistake.

You shouldn’t let him do this.

You shouldn’t let him touch you.

But you didn’t pull away.

You couldn’t.

His thumb brushed lightly against your skin, absentminded, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he hadn’t disappeared on you for a month. Like you hadn’t spent weeks trying to forget what it felt like to be this close to him.

“Why are you acting like that?” he murmured.

Your heart was pounding now, loud enough that you were sure he could hear it.

“Like what?” you asked, even though you knew exactly what he meant.

“Like you don’t—” he paused, jaw tightening slightly, “—feel this.”

Your gaze dropped to where his hand still rested against your wrist.

You felt it.

That was the problem.

You felt it too much.

“You don’t get to ask me that,” you said, quieter now, your voice slipping despite your effort to keep it steady. “Not after just… disappearing.”

Something flickered across his face again—guilt, maybe, or something close to it—but it didn’t last long.

It never did with him.

“You came tonight,” he said instead.

Your breath hitched.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t it?”

He stepped closer.

If that was even possible.

The space between you disappeared completely now, leaving no room for excuses, no room to pretend this was casual or meaningless or anything other than what it was.

Dangerous.

Familiar.

Impossible to walk away from.

You should move.

You should pull your hand back, take a step away, say something that would put distance between you again.

But instead, you stayed exactly where you were.

Because no matter how many times you told yourself this would only end in hurt…

You were already too far gone to stop it.

Again.

He said things like they meant nothing, while you felt everything.

And standing here now, with him looking at you like that—as if no time had passed, as if nothing had changed—you could already feel yourself slipping back into it.

Back into him.

This is exactly why you shouldn’t have come.

You knew how this went.

You knew how it would end.

And yet, you hadn’t walked away.

Not then.

Not now.

And maybe… that said more than you wanted it to.

“Ni-ki”, you whispered softly.

Ni-ki didn’t say anything, he just took one step closer to you, the faint scent of his minty breath brushed over you. His eyes slowly made their way to your glossy lips and then back to your eyes until he said the unexpected.

“God you’re perfect”. He said that as if it was a fact, a statement even that no one could argue with. He slowly brought his hand up to your check and gently brushed away a few stray hairs.

You slightly leaned into his touch and sighed. “What are you doing to me Ni-ki.”

Ni-ki didn’t stop. For once he let his heart take control instead of his mind.

“Let’s ditch this party”, he suggested, “come back to my place?”

“I don’t know-“

“Please baby…let me make it up to you, let me show you how much I missed you”

────୨ৎ────

The air between them was electric, a volatile mix of longing and desperation that had been simmering for weeks. The moment they stumbled through the door of Ni-ki’s apartment, the door hadn't even clicked shut before he had you pinned against it. But this time, the aggression was tempered with a starving kind of tenderness.

Ni-ki didn't rip your clothes; he devoured you. His mouth crashed onto yours, tasting of mint and hunger, his hands framing your face with a possessive grip. He pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing heavy.

"I fucking missed you," he whispered, his voice raw and trembling. "God, I missed you so much, baby. Tell me you missed me too."

"I did," you whimpered, your hands clutching the fabric of his shirt. "I missed you every second."

A small, satisfied smile touched his lips. "Good girl."

He swept you up into his arms, carrying you toward the bedroom. He laid you down on the sheets with a gentleness that felt foreign yet intoxicating. He stripped you slowly, his eyes roaming over every inch of your skin as if he were memorizing you all over again. When you were bare beneath him, he didn't rush. He started with your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples, teasing them into hard peaks. He leaned down, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking firmly, his tongue swirling around the sensitive tip.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against her skin, his voice a low vibration. "My beautiful girl. You feel so good, baby. You okay? You like that?"

"Yes... please, Ni-ki," you gasped, arching your back.

"I've got you," he whispered, kissing the valley between your breasts. "Just relax for me. I'm going to take such good care of you."

He slid down your body, his kisses trailing over your stomach until he reached the junction of your thighs. He parted your legs wide, his eyes darkening at the sight of her already glistening. He didn't dive in immediately; he teased you first, his fingertips grazing your inner thighs, circling closer and closer to your clit without touching it. You whimpered, your hips twitching in search of friction.

"Patience, sweetheart," he teased, his voice a soft command.

Then, he dove in. His tongue was a weapon of precision, licking you from the bottom up in one long, slow stroke that made your toes curl. He focused on your clit, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue with a rhythmic intensity. He could hear your breath hitching, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"You taste like heaven," he mumbled against your wetness. He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. "You doing okay? Too much, or just right?"

"Right... oh god, Ni-ki, right there!"

He didn't stop until you were sobbing, your body shaking as the first orgasm ripped through you. He held you thighs steady, eating you out through the peak of your climax, ensuring you felt every single vibration of your own release.

As she came down from the high, Ni-ki crawled back up your body, his eyes soft. He kissed you deeply, tasting yourself on his lips. He guided your hand down to his cock, which was throbbing and hard.

"I want to feel you," he whispered. "Can you do that for me, baby? Use that pretty mouth."

You slid off the bed, kneeling between his legs. You looked up at him, and the look of pure adoration in his eyes made your heart ache. You took him in slowly, your lips sliding over the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around the rim before sliding him deep into your throat.

Ni-ki let out a choked groan, his hands finding your hair, not to force you, but to guide you. "Fuck, you're so good at this. Such a good girl for me." He watched you work, the sight of youf devotion driving him wild. "You're taking it so well, baby. You okay? Not too deep?"

You looked up at him, humming a confirmation, your eyes hooded. He let you set the pace for a few minutes, the suction tight and wet, before he gently pulled you up for a kiss.

"I can't wait any longer," he breathed.

He positioned himself at your entrance, pausing for a second to look you in the eyes. "I'm coming inside you, baby. I want to feel everything. You ready for me?"

"Yes, please, Ni-ki. Now."

He slid into you in one smooth, deep thrust, filling you completely. They both gasped, the sheer intensity of the connection making them shudder. He began to move, his pace steady and rhythmic, his movements focused on your pleasure. He leaned down, whispering praise into your ear with every thrust.

"You feel so tight... so perfect. My girl. My perfect, beautiful girl."

He shifted his angle, hitting your G-spot with a precision that had you screaming his name. He slowed down, checking in again, his voice thick with lust. "You still with me? You feeling this? I want you to feel every inch of me."

"I feel you... oh god, don't stop!"

He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, more urgent. He reached down, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in sync with his hips. The double stimulation was too much; you felt another orgasm building, a tidal wave of pleasure.

"That's it, baby. Give it to me. Come for me," he urged, his voice a commanding yet loving purr.

You shattered, your internal muscles clamping tight around him as you screamed into his shoulder. The feeling of your climaxing triggered his own; he let out a guttural roar, thrusting deep one last time as he filled you with hot, thick cum.

They collapsed together, skin slick with sweat and fluids. Ni-ki didn't pull away immediately; he stayed inside you, holding you close, his heart hammering against your chest. He kissed your temple, his voice a soft, exhausted whisper.

"I'm not letting you go this time, baby. I've got you."

And when the sun came up.

Ni-ki stuck to his word.

He didn’t let you go.

[lover-lila]

DONT SMILE

ִֶָ🪽་༘ ex bf!ni-ki x ex gf!reader

✩°˖🫐 ⋆｡˚꩜ now playing ‘don’t smile’ - Sabrina Carpenter

synopsis: they broke up for a reason, but that never seems to matter when it comes to each other. Weeks of silence always end the same way—one late-night text, one more meeting, one more promise that it’s the last time. But every reunion feels too familiar, slipping back into something that never really left. The problem isn’t that they don’t care anymore—it’s that they care too much, just not in a way that works. And when he realises she might actually be okay without him, he can’t help but want one thing: for her to miss him the way he misses her.

content warnings: toxic relationship dynamics, on/off relationship, emotional conflict & arguments, themes of attachment and inability to let go, jealousy & possessiveness, implied heartbreak / lingering feelings, late-night meetups (suggestive), rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, multiple orgasms, breast play, oral (m and f receiving) , spanking, making out, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), overstimulation, fingering, soft dom!ni-ki, happy ending!

word count: 4,682

read here

[lover-lila]

ALL I NEED TO HEAR

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆🧁༉‧₊˚. introvert bf!Juhoon x extrovert gf!reader

˚₊ ꒰ა 🍨 ໒꒱ ₊˚ now playing ‘all I need to hear’ - The 1975

synopsis: when a joke from your friends makes you question if you’re “too much” for your quiet boyfriend Juhoon, you begin to pull away. But as the distance grows, he confronts you—reminding you that you were never too loud, just everything he needed.

word count: 1,403

There had never been a moment where your differences felt like a problem.

If anything, they were the reason everything worked so effortlessly between you and Juhoon. Where you filled the room with laughter, he filled the silence with something softer—something steady. You talked, he listened. You dragged him into crowded cafés and loud group hangouts, and he stayed just close enough to you to never feel lost. And when it all became too much, he’d tug your sleeve gently, wordlessly asking if you could step outside for a minute.

You always did.

It was a rhythm the two of you had perfected without ever having to talk about it.

So when the doubt first planted itself in your mind, it didn’t feel loud or obvious. It slipped in quietly, disguised as a joke.

You were out with your friends—music playing too loud, glasses clinking, everyone talking over each other the way they always did when the night got good. You were mid-story, animated as usual, hands moving as you spoke, your laughter spilling over theirs.

“Wait,” one of them interrupted, grinning, “I still don’t get how you and Juhoon even work.”

Another laughed. “Right? He barely talks, and you never stop.”

“It’s kind of cute though,” someone added, nudging you. “Opposites attract and all that.”

“Yeah, but like… doesn’t he ever get tired?” the first one said, half-joking, half-curious. “Of you being so… you?”

The table erupted into laughter again, and you forced yourself to laugh too, brushing it off like it didn’t matter.

But something about it lingered.

It stayed with you even after you got home, even after you texted Juhoon your usual “I’m back <3” and got his soft, immediate reply.

It stayed when you replayed the night in your head, picking apart every word.

Doesn’t he ever get tired?

You told yourself it was stupid.

Juhoon had never once made you feel like you were too much. Not once. If anything, he always looked at you like you were exactly enough—like every word you said mattered, like every little thing you did was worth noticing.

But the thought had already settled in, and it didn’t leave.

At first, the change was small.

You took a little longer to reply to his messages. Where you’d usually send paragraphs, you sent short responses instead. You stopped double-texting him when he didn’t answer right away. You told yourself you were just giving him space.

Then you started cancelling plans.

“Just tired today,” you texted once.

“Got a lot to do,” another time.

He didn’t question it at first. He never pushed you, never demanded explanations. That was just how he was—gentle, patient, trusting.

But he noticed.

Of course he did.

He noticed how your voice got quieter on the rare calls you did pick up. How your laugh didn’t come as easily. How you stopped telling him about the random little things that crossed your mind—the things you used to share without even thinking.

Most of all, he noticed how you stopped reaching for him.

Weeks passed like that, a quiet distance growing between you, one you pretended not to see.

Until he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

You hadn’t expected him to show up.

The knock on your door came late in the afternoon, soft but persistent. When you opened it, there he was—hands tucked into his hoodie sleeves, eyes searching yours in that careful way he always did.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

Your chest tightened. “Hi.”

For a second, neither of you spoke. And then he stepped inside, closing the door behind him like he’d done a hundred times before.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

You nodded, even though your throat already felt tight.

You sat across from each other, the space between you feeling unfamiliar, heavier than it should’ve been.

Juhoon was the one to break the silence.

“You’ve been… different,” he said, voice soft but certain. “For a while now.”

You looked down at your hands. “I’ve just been busy.”

He shook his head slightly. “No, it’s not that.”

The way he said it—so gentle, but so sure—made it impossible to deflect.

“You don’t tell me things anymore,” he continued. “You don’t call. You barely text. And when you do… it doesn’t feel like you.”

Your chest ached at that.

“I did something, didn’t I?” he added quietly. “If I did, you can tell me. I want to know.”

The thought of him blaming himself made something twist painfully inside you.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Then what is it?”

You hesitated.

Because saying it out loud felt embarrassing. Small. Like you were making a problem out of nothing.

But he was still looking at you—waiting, patient as always.

So you swallowed and finally said it.

“My friends… said something,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “They were joking, but…”

You trailed off, unsure how to finish.

Juhoon didn’t rush you. “But?”

You forced yourself to meet his eyes.

“They said they don’t understand how we work,” you said. “That we’re too different. That… maybe I’m too much for you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than you expected.

“I just—” you exhaled shakily, your voice starting to crack, “I started thinking about it, and I realised I never asked you. Like… what if they’re right? What if you do get tired of me? Of how loud I am, how much I talk, how I always need to be doing something—”

“Hey.”

His voice was soft, but it stopped you immediately.

You hadn’t even noticed when he moved closer, but suddenly he was right there, his hand gently wrapping around yours.

“Look at me,” he said.

You did.

And the expression on his face made your chest ache in a completely different way.

There was no frustration. No annoyance.

Just quiet disbelief—and something warm, something almost… hurt that you’d even thought that.

“Do you really think that?” he asked softly.

You hesitated, then nodded just slightly. “I didn’t before. But now I don’t know.”

He let out a small breath, shaking his head.

“I don’t think you understand,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “I like you because you’re like that.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You think you’re too loud,” he continued, his voice steady but gentle, “but you’re the reason things don’t feel so quiet all the time. You talk about everything—random thoughts, stories, things that don’t even matter—and somehow you make all of it matter.”

Your chest tightened, your eyes stinging slightly.

“I don’t say much,” he added, almost shyly. “You know that. It’s hard for me sometimes. But with you, I don’t have to force it. You fill in the gaps without making me feel like I’m lacking anything.”

His grip on your hand tightened just a little.

“And when it gets too much,” he said, “you’re always the first one to notice. You pull me out, you sit with me, you don’t make a big deal out of it. You just… understand.”

You hadn’t realised you were crying until a tear slipped down your cheek.

“So no,” he finished softly. “I don’t get tired of you. I don’t wish you were quieter. If anything… I think I’d be lost without it.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore.

It was warm.

Safe.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” you asked quietly. “When I started pulling away?”

He gave a small, almost sheepish smile.

“I thought you needed space,” he admitted. “You always tell me what’s on your mind. So when you didn’t… I figured maybe you just weren’t ready yet.”

That made your chest ache all over again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I should’ve just told you.”

“It’s okay,” he said immediately. “You’re here now.”

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping your tears. “I feel stupid.”

“You’re not,” he said, just as quickly.

There was no hesitation in his voice. No doubt.

“You just needed to hear it,” he added quietly.

Your heart softened at that.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe that was all it had been.

All you needed to hear.

You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him, and he held you just as tightly—steady, grounding, familiar.

And for the first time in weeks, everything felt like it was back where it belonged.

Not because you’d changed.

But because you finally understood that you didn’t have to.

[lover-lila]

WHEN DID YOU GET HOT?

🪽˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ bf!yang jungwon x fem!reader

𝄞⨾💿✮˚.⋆ now playing ‘when did you get hot?’ - Sabrina Carpenter

Synopsis: You’ve always seen Yang Jungwon as cute—soft, familiar, and entirely yours in the most comfortable way. But when you casually tune into one of his late-night lives, something feels… different. The way he speaks, the way he looks at the camera, the quiet confidence you somehow never noticed before—it throws you off completely.

Suddenly, you’re questioning everything: when did he change… or have you just been seeing him wrong this whole time?

And when you finally see him in person again, your reaction says it all—because your “cute” boyfriend might not be so cute anymore.

word count: 1,828

You had always thought your boyfriend was cute.

Not in a dismissive way, not in a that’s all he is kind of way, but in the soft, familiar sense that came with knowing someone too well. Yang Jungwon was the kind of cute that made people smile without thinking, the kind that made you instinctively reach out and pinch his cheeks, the kind that had you calling him adorable more times than you could count. It was easy, comfortable, automatic.

It had been like that for as long as you could remember.

So when his Weverse live notification popped up on your phone, you didn’t think much of it.

You were halfway through doing something else—mindlessly scrolling, half-paying attention, the way you always did when he went live. You clicked it open without hesitation, already expecting the usual: soft laughter, playful complaints, the familiar tone of your boyfriend talking to fans like he always did.

At first, nothing felt different.

He was sitting casually, dressed simply, leaning slightly forward as he talked. There was food in front of him, something small that he kept picking at between sentences, chewing absentmindedly while reading comments. It was normal. Completely normal.

And then—

You stilled.

It wasn’t anything obvious. Not something you could immediately name.

Just… something.

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you leaned closer to your screen, your thumb hovering over the comments as you stopped scrolling entirely. He said something—something simple—and laughed under his breath, softer than usual, quieter. His voice dipped at the end of the sentence, lower than you remembered, and your brain, for some reason, decided to fixate on it.

You blinked.

“…wait.”

The word slipped out of you before you could stop it, barely above a whisper, as if saying it any louder would break whatever this moment was.

He shifted slightly, pushing his hair back absentmindedly, and for a second—just a second—he looked straight into the camera.

Not in the bright, playful way you were used to.

But steady. Intent.

Your stomach dropped.

You sat up properly now, completely abandoning whatever you had been doing before, your full attention locked onto your screen as if something had just snapped into place.

Or maybe… out of place.

Because when did he start looking like that?

Your brows furrowed as you watched him continue talking like nothing had changed, like he hadn’t just completely thrown you off without even trying. You stared at his face—really stared this time—and suddenly everything felt… different.

Sharper.

His jawline—had it always been that defined? The way his lips moved when he spoke, slower, more deliberate than you remembered. The way he leaned forward slightly, elbow resting on the table, completely relaxed but somehow… not soft in the way you were used to.

You frowned, confused, unsettled in a way that didn’t make sense.

Because this was your boyfriend.

So why did he suddenly feel like someone else?

“…has he always looked like this?”

You didn’t even realise you said it out loud.

Your finger moved without thinking, dragging the video back a few seconds.

He repeated the same motion—bringing the fork up, taking a bite, glancing at the comments—and somehow it hit even harder the second time. Your heart did something stupid in your chest, something you didn’t appreciate, something that made you pause the video entirely just to stare at the frozen frame.

“…what?”

You leaned back slowly, blinking at your phone like it had personally offended you.

Because this didn’t make sense.

You knew him. You knew him.

You had seen him countless times—up close, in real life, in the most normal, unfiltered moments—and yet right now, watching him through a screen, something felt… new.

And that made it worse.

Because if this was new, then when did it happen?

When did he change?

Or—more unsettling—

When did you start seeing him differently?

You pressed play again, but this time it wasn’t casual. This time you were watching, analysing, overthinking every little thing like your brain had suddenly decided this was the most important discovery of your life.

And by the time the live ended, you were completely gone.

⸻

Seeing him in person the next day was a mistake.

A terrible, horrible mistake.

Because now that you had noticed it, you couldn’t unsee it.

He walked towards you like he always did—casual, familiar, comfortable—and yet your entire body tensed as if you were meeting him for the first time. Your eyes flickered up to his face for half a second before immediately dropping again, your brain short-circuiting in the most embarrassing way possible.

This was ridiculous.

This was your boyfriend.

Why were you acting like this?

“Hey.”

His voice—there it was again.

That same tone from the live.

You swallowed.

“Hi,” you replied, a little too quickly, a little too stiffly.

He paused.

You could feel it.

The way he stopped just slightly in front of you, the silence stretching just enough for it to be noticeable, just enough for him to start analysing you the same way you had been analysing him the night before.

“…why are you acting weird?”

“I’m not,” you said immediately.

Too immediately.

His eyes narrowed.

You could practically hear the way his thoughts clicked into place, the way he tilted his head ever so slightly, studying you with quiet curiosity. And the worst part?

You couldn’t even look at him properly.

Because if you did, you were scared you’d react the same way you did last night.

“…you are,” he said, softer this time, stepping a little closer.

Your breath caught.

And that—right there—that was the problem.

Because when had standing this close to him started affecting you like this?

“I’m literally not,” you insisted, but your voice betrayed you, quieter now, less certain.

He hummed, unconvinced.

And then, before you could prepare yourself, he leaned in slightly.

Not enough to be obvious.

Just enough.

“Then look at me.”

You froze.

“…I am looking at you.”

“You’re not.”

Your grip tightened around your phone.

This was humiliating.

Because he was right.

You weren’t.

“…you’re being weird,” he added, a hint of amusement slipping into his voice now, like he was starting to enjoy this.

You exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up—not at him, but at yourself, at this entire situation that made absolutely no sense.

“Because—” you started, stopping yourself mid-sentence.

He waited.

And that was your second mistake.

Because the longer he stood there, watching you like that, the harder it became to keep whatever this was to yourself.

“…because what?”

You groaned under your breath, dragging a hand down your face before finally forcing yourself to look up at him.

And immediately regretting it.

Because there it was again.

That same feeling.

That same shift.

Your stomach flipped, your words coming out before you could stop them.

“…when did you get hot?”

Silence.

A beat.

And then—

His expression changed.

Not dramatically. Not in a way anyone else would notice.

But you did.

Because you were watching him closely now.

Too closely.

“…what?” he repeated, slower this time.

Your face burned.

“I didn’t mean it like that—no, I did, but—not like—I just—” you cut yourself off, mortified, your thoughts tangling over each other as you tried to backtrack and failed miserably.

He stared at you.

And then—

He smiled.

Not the soft, cute smile you were used to.

Something smaller.

Knowing.

“…you’re just noticing now?”

Your heart dropped.

Because that tone—

That tone—

You blinked at him, speechless, as he took a small step closer, closing the distance between you without hesitation this time.

“You’ve been looking at me like I’m cute this whole time,” he continued, voice low, almost teasing, his gaze steady on yours in a way that made it impossible to look away.

Your breath caught.

“And now suddenly—”

He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting just enough to make your stomach twist.

“—I’m hot?”

You couldn’t answer.

Couldn’t think.

Couldn’t do anything except stand there, completely thrown off by your own boyfriend like this was the first time you were seeing him.

And he noticed.

Of course he did.

“…that’s kind of unfair,” he added lightly, though the way he was looking at you said the opposite.

Your brain finally caught up just enough to form a weak response.

“…you changed,” you muttered.

He raised a brow.

“Did I?”

You hesitated.

Because now, standing this close, looking at him properly, it didn’t feel like he had.

It felt like—

“…no,” you admitted quietly.

His expression softened, just slightly.

“Exactly.”

You swallowed.

You opened your mouth to argue, to insist that something had changed, that this wasn’t just in your head—but the words never quite made it out.

Because the way he was looking at you shifted.

Not teasing anymore. Not entirely.

Softer.

“…hey,” he murmured, the single word enough to quiet whatever spiral your thoughts had started dragging you into. His hand came up almost absentmindedly, fingers brushing against your wrist before settling there properly, grounding, warm.

You blinked, your gaze flickering down to where he was holding you before slowly lifting back to his face.

And this time, he wasn’t overwhelming.

He was familiar again.

“I didn’t change that much,” he said quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips—not the smug one from before, not the teasing one—something gentler, something meant just for you. “You’re looking at me like I’m a completely different person.”

Your brows knit together slightly, because that was exactly what it had felt like.

“…it just caught me off guard,” you admitted, your voice softer now, the embarrassment settling into something calmer, something easier to sit with.

His thumb moved slightly against your wrist, a small, repetitive motion, like he didn’t even realise he was doing it.

“I’m still the same,” he continued, tilting his head just a little as if trying to meet you where you were, to make sure you understood. “I’m still yours.”

That did something to you.

Something quiet, but heavy in the best way.

Your shoulders dropped slightly, tension you hadn’t even realised you were holding easing at his words, because suddenly this didn’t feel confusing anymore. It didn’t feel like you were losing something familiar.

It felt like you were noticing more of it.

“…I know,” you said, though it came out more like a breath than a proper sentence.

He watched you for a second longer, like he was checking—really checking—that you were okay now, that you weren’t still stuck in your own head about it.

And when he seemed satisfied, the softness didn’t disappear.

It just… shifted.

Right back into something a little more playful.

And then he leaned in just a little more, close enough for his voice to drop into something quieter, something that felt entirely too intentional.

“You’re just late.”

And that—

That was worse.

Because now you knew.

He hadn’t changed.

You had.

And somehow, that made everything feel brand new all over again.

[lover-lila]

DIET PEPSI - LEE HEESEUNG

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ situationship!lee heeseung x fem!reader

°🥂⋆.ೃ🍸࿔*:･ now playing ‘diet pepsi’- addison rae

synopsis: you and Lee Heeseung exist in the space between almost and never—an on-and-off cycle of late-night calls, quiet confessions, and feelings neither of you fully claim. He gives you just enough to stay, but never enough to be real… and you’re starting to realise that “almost” might hurt more than nothing at all.

content warnings: toxic relationship dynamics, on/off relationship, emotional conflict

COMING SOON…

[lover-lila]

Post by @lover-lila · 10 images

💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 1 · DIET PEPSI - LEE HEESEUNG ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ situationship!lee heeseung x fem!reader °🥂⋆.ೃ🍸࿔*:･ now playing ‘diet pepsi’- addison ra

[lover-lila]

DIET PEPSI - LEE HEESEUNG

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ situationship!lee heeseung x fem!reader

°🥂⋆.ೃ🍸࿔*:･ now playing ‘diet pepsi’- addison rae

synopsis: you and Lee Heeseung exist in the space between almost and never—an on-and-off cycle of late-night calls, quiet confessions, and feelings neither of you fully claim. He gives you just enough to stay, but never enough to be real… and you’re starting to realise that “almost” might hurt more than nothing at all.

content warnings: angst, toxic relationship dynamics, on/off relationship, emotional conflict, smut, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, multiple orgasms, breast play, oral (f receiving) , spanking, making out, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), overstimulation.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ word count: 2,731

It’s always him at this hour. Your phone lights up at 1:37 a.m., his name sitting there like it hasn’t already ruined you enough, like you haven’t promised yourself you wouldn’t answer this time. But your thumb moves before your thoughts can catch up, and just like that, you’re back—back in the space between almost and never, where his voice is soft, his words mean just enough, and you pretend it doesn’t matter that he only ever comes to you when the world gets quiet.

You slipped out of your apartment in nothing but an oversized hoodie and the tiniest pair of shorts underneath. The night air kissed your bare thighs as you crossed the quiet street and let yourself into his place. The living-room lights were off; only the blue glow of the TV flickered across the walls.

Heeseung was already waiting on the couch, legs spread, gray sweats low on his hips. His eyes dragged over you the second the door clicked shut, dark and hungry.

“Lock it,” he murmured, his voice a command that made your stomach flip.

You turned the deadbolt, then walked straight to him. He didn’t stand—just reached up, hooked two fingers into the waistband of your shorts, and yanked you between his knees. He didn't waste time; he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you down into a bruising make-out session. His tongue invaded your mouth, tasting of mint and desire, while his hand slid up under your hoodie to squeeze your breast, pinching the nipple hard through your bra.

He pulled back just an inch, his breath hot against your lips. “You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you? Just a little slut who can’t sleep unless I’m fucking her.”

The degradation sent a jolt of heat straight to your pussy. You whimpered, nodding frantically.

“Good girl,” he whispered, the sudden praise making you shiver. “That’s exactly what you are.”

Heeseung tugged the shorts down in one motion. They pooled at your ankles and you kicked them aside. Cool air hit your bare pussy, already slick. He didn't let you settle; he gripped your arm and flipped you over the edge of the couch, leaving your ass high in the air and your chest pressed against the fabric.

SMACK!

The sound of his palm hitting your cheek echoed in the quiet room. You gasped, your hips jerking forward.

SMACK!

He hit you again, harder this time, leaving a stinging heat across your skin. “You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven't you? Thinking about how much you need my cock inside you.”

“Yes,” you sobbed, your voice muffled by the couch.

“Yes, what?” he demanded, delivering another sharp slap that made your ass glow red.

“Yes, sir,” you whimpered, leaning into the pain.

“Such a pathetic little thing,” he chuckled, though his voice was thick with lust. He reached down, spreading your folds with two fingers, thumb circling your clit with punishing pressure. He leaned in, licking a broad stripe from your entrance to the swollen nub, then sucked your clit deep into his mouth. The intensity was immediate. He flicked his tongue rapidly, working you over until you were shaking, your fingers clawing at the couch cushions.

As you peaked, your first orgasm crashing through you in violent waves, Heeseung didn't stop. He pulled away just as you hit the summit, leaving you breathless and aching.

“Not yet,” he hissed.

He stood behind you, shoving his sweats down to let his cock spring free—thick, flushed, and glistening. He gripped your hip with one hand and lined himself up, dragging the head through your soaking folds before pushing in with one heavy, singular thrust.

The stretch punched a moan out of you. He didn't give you time to adjust, immediately setting a brutal, deep rhythm. Each thrust forced a wet, filthy sound from your pussy, the couch creaking under the force. He reached around, his fingers finding your clit again, rubbing it in sync with his thrusts.

“Look at you,” he groaned, his voice guttural. “Taking it all like a good little slut. You love being used by me, don't you?”

“I do... please, Heeseung, more!”

“I’ll give you exactly what you deserve,” he replied, his pace growing ragged. He hit your G-spot with every drive, sending you spiraling into a second, more intense orgasm. Your walls clamped tight around him, milking him, and you cried out, your body arching.

He didn't slow down. He kept fucking you through the climax, pushing you further and further until you were hovering on the edge of a third. He flipped you over, pinning your wrists above your head and driving into you from the front. He watched your face, his eyes dark as he saw you shatter for a third time, your eyes rolling back as your pussy pulsed rhythmically around his shaft.

Heeseung let out a low, animalistic moan, burying himself deep and coming with a force that felt like it filled every inch of you, hot pulses of cum flooding your cunt.

He stayed inside you for a moment, breathing hard, then slowly pulled out. A thick strand of cum followed, dripping down your thigh. Heeseung swiped it with two fingers and pushed it back inside, lazy and possessive.

He leaned down, kissing your forehead softly. “Good girl. You took that perfectly”.

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ── ── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ── ── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──

Now the two of you were cuddled up in his bed, limbs tangled together as there’s barely any space between you, his hand brushing yours, one arm stretched behind his back is stretched behind your shoulders, gently traces god knows what.

You look at him with those wide innocent eyes, those eyes that looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars.

“That was nice”, you whisper as you carefully play with his now damp hair.

He just hums in response.

You knew what that meant. You had heard that sound about a million times. There was no doubt he was upset.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says after a moment.

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Ignoring you?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t reply for, what, a day?”

“Two,” he corrects.

You glance at him. “You counted?”

He doesn’t answer that.

Instead, his eyes flick down to your lips for a split second, and that’s all it takes. The air shifts, heavy, familiar, dangerous.

“This is exactly what I mean,” you say, your voice tighter now. “You call me over, we sit like this, and then what? We just pretend everything’s fine?”

“It is fine.”

“It’s not,” you snap, pulling back just enough to look at him properly. “You don’t get to act like this is normal.”

His expression hardens slightly, but not in anger—more like he’s bracing himself.

“Then what do you want me to say?”

“The truth,” you say. “For once.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair, gaze dropping to anywhere but your face. “You know it’s not that simple.”

“There you go again,” you whisper. “It’s always not that simple with you.”

Silence settles between you, thick and uncomfortable.

And then—because he always does this—he reaches for you.

His fingers wrap gently around your wrist, pulling you just a little closer, like he can fix everything without actually saying anything. Like proximity is enough.

“Stay,” he murmurs.

Your chest tightens.

“For what?” you ask, even though you already know the answer.

He doesn’t say it.

He just looks at you like he always does—soft enough to make you stay, distant enough to never make it real.

And the worst part?

You don’t move away.

“I know I’m hurting you,” he says, but it comes out quieter than you’ve ever heard him—like the words have been sitting in his chest for too long, heavy and unspoken. His gaze doesn’t quite meet yours at first, fixed somewhere just past you, like even now he’s not sure he deserves to say it out loud.

“You have no idea what that does to me,” he continues, voice rougher now. “Knowing I’m the reason you feel like this… I think about it more than I let on. More than I should.” A small, bitter breath leaves him, almost like a laugh, but there’s nothing light about it. “I replay it—every time you look at me like you’re waiting for something I won’t give you. Every time you stay anyway.”

His hand tightens slightly around yours, like he’s grounding himself.

“I hate that I know you’ll come back,” he admits, finally looking at you. There’s something raw in his eyes now—guilt, maybe, or something worse. “I hate that I’ve let myself rely on that. On you. On how… patient you are with me.” His jaw clenches. “It’s not fair to you. It’s never been fair.”

You don’t say anything, and he fills the silence like he always does when it gets too real.

“I think that’s why I never gave this a name,” he says, softer now, almost like he’s confessing something he’s only just realised himself. “Because if I did—if I called it what it actually is—then I’d have to live up to it. I’d have to be someone I’m not sure I know how to be.”

His thumb brushes absentmindedly over your skin, a habit so familiar it almost hurts.

“And this way…” he exhales, shaking his head slightly. “This way, I didn’t have to risk losing you. Because no matter how messed up it got, you still chose me. Every time.” His voice drops, barely above a whisper. “And I got used to that.”

There’s a pause, thick and suffocating.

“I didn’t realise how selfish that was until it started breaking you,” he finishes, finally meeting your eyes fully. “And I still… I still don’t know if I can stop.”

Since this whole sneaking around started, for once you understood lee heeseung, for once he showed you not just a glimpse into his mind but his heart too.

“Hey”, you whispered. I know this isn’t easy for you and I’m trying- God I’m really trying for you heesung but it can’t just be me that’s putting in all the effort and energy into whatever this is. I don’t know what more you want from me heeseung-

He interrupted you with a scoff and immediately pushed himself to sit on the edge of his bed.

“Excuse me?”, you say, now looking confused.

“I’ve just opened up to you and you still don’t get it so you?”

“Heeseung-“

He immediately cuts you off.

“I should be asking you what you want from me”, he states. You knew what you were getting into when we first started this. We both agreed that all this was, was just hooking up, no strings attached. Don’t tell me- Y/N tell me you haven’t.

You couldn’t even look at him.

Because he was right. Between all of the late night hookups and early morning aftercare, feelings had started to rise, feelings that you had tried to burry for so long out of the agreement you two had made. But no matter how much you insisted that what you had with heeseung was casual, the more it bothered you that what you had was just causal.

A moment passed before you looked at him, blinking back your tears.

“I-I tried heeseung believe me”, you whispered, biting back the tremble in your voice. “It was easy at first but the more time we spent together…the harder it was to not like you”.

“Baby”-

You interrupted him.

“Let me finish”, your voice cracked. “You can’t sit here and tell me that you didn’t feel it too. That somewhere along the way you felt the same way as I did. There’s no way you didn’t just see me as some fuck buddy”

Heeseung immediately sits up.

You couldn’t hold the tears back anymore.

“You must’ve felt something for me heeseung!”, your voice raised in frustration and sadness.

For once Lee Heeseung was so speechless that he couldn’t bring himself to look at you because if he did, that work break his heart into a million pieces.

“Y/N, he started and trailed off.

“God knows how much I want you baby, there’s not a day where I don’t think about you- us, being together in a normal relationship where I can openly show you how much I love you. But that’s not me and you and I both know that. No matter how much we both want that I just- I can’t be the man you want me to be. You deserve so much more than just a casual hook up. You deserve a man that’ll love you openly, that’ll take you out every week, but you flowers just because. I want to be that for you Y/N but I just don’t know how to be him”.

Your voice cracks again, “can’t you just try?” “Please heeseung I don’t care what you think I deserve, I know that I just want you, not some picture perfect boyfriend.”

Heeseung turns to you with his tear stained face, “I’m so sorry baby.”

That was your final answer.

You now know that no matter how much love you could show to heeseung that he’ll never accept it. Not because he doesn’t love you, deep down you both know that you two deeply love each other. But the fact that he doesn’t deserve your love because of the person he is and the fear of loving you that much he has the potential to hurt you. And that hurts him more than anything else.

Neither of you spoke for a moment until the decision that would break both of you.

“I understand”, you calmly stated. “I knew the answer I was going to get that no matter how hard I pushed.”

You climbed out of once the warm bed and collect your clothes.

Heeseung panicked.

“Where are you going- you can’t leave! W-we can work this out baby I just need time!”

“Heeseung I can’t keep waiting for you. I’m tired of it”

He rushed over to you, stopping you from walking out for maybe forever.

“Baby please, don’t do this to us- I need you, you know I do.”

You simply pushed past him, walked downstairs and headed towards the front door as heeseung ran after you.

“Y/N please don’t leave me-“

You stopped for a moment, because deep down this was killing you too, even if you weren’t showing it.

You turned to look at him with teary eyes.

“You know I’ll always love you heesung”

“Don’t say that baby- just stay and we can figure something out!”

“I have do do this heeseung, or else I’ll never put myself first again.”

That was like a dagger to his heart. To hear that for once you were not choosing him. He knows that he should’ve been happy for you, God he wished he was but as selfish as he is, he wished he made you happier with him instead of putting you through this cycle of suffering and misery.

He has always put himself first before anything and everything, and seeing you this upset because of him made him do the most heartbreaking choice ever.

“Okay”, he whispered. “If this is what you have to do then…don’t let me hold you back anymore. If ending this makes you happy, then I want you to be happy.

You were now speechless.

You expected heeseung to put up a little bit of a fight, in which he did, but to let you go? That was unexpected.

As you turned towards the front door his voice filled the space again.

“Just promise me one thing Y/N.”

You paused.

“Don’t give up on me yet.”

It took you a lot of strength to not run back to him. To pull him back upstairs to his warm bed and lounge in his embrace until sunrise. But you stayed but.

You simply nodded and walked out his door and his life for maybe a lifetime.

Heeseung stayed put. He couldn’t bring himself to move, but when you faded into the distance he broke. He now has to live with the worth mistake he made for potentially the rest of his life, all because he couldn’t commit to the girl he loved the most.

[lover-lila]

SHE

chapter 2 - do I wanna know?

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ punk rock!martin x fem!reader ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙— now playing ‘do i wanna know?’ - Artic Monkeys

synopsis: in a world where martin lives loud, reckless, and unapologetically punk, you exist in soft colours, sweet scents, and quiet comfort. you shouldn’t fit into his life—and he definitely shouldn’t fit into yours—but somehow, your worlds collide in a way neither of you can ignore. between late nights, messy emotions, and stolen moments, martin finds himself drawn to the one person who sees past the chaos, and you discover that even the roughest hearts can learn to be gentle.

word count: 1,146

For a few seconds after she pulled the second copy from the shelf, neither of them seemed quite sure what to do next.

Martin looked at the record in her hands, then at the identical one tucked beneath his arm. The situation had been resolved, technically, but neither of them had actually walked away. You could have gone back to whatever you’d been doing before he interrupted you, and he could have returned to browsing the shelves, but somehow they were still standing in the same aisle, surrounded by rows of records neither of them had any immediate intention of buying.

You glanced down at the album again, running her thumb lightly along the edge of the sleeve.

“You know,” she said, “you could’ve just let me have the first one.”

“I could have.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

She looked at him expectantly.

Martin shrugged. “I wanted it.”

She gave him a small, unimpressed look. “You’re very considerate.”

“I try my best.”

“That was your best?”

“Unfortunately.”

She laughed under her breath and turned away, moving towards the next section of records. Martin hesitated for a second before following, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. He told himself it was because he hadn’t finished looking through the shop. That was technically true. It just wasn’t the whole truth.

You stopped in front of another shelf and began scanning the albums, occasionally pulling one out before putting it back. Martin stood beside her, looking through the records on the opposite side.

There was something strangely easy about the silence between them.

It wasn’t the uncomfortable kind that usually followed a conversation with a stranger. Neither of them seemed particularly concerned about filling every second with noise. The music playing softly through the speakers overhead did enough of that for them.

Eventually, Martin glanced at the record tucked beneath your arm.

“So, you actually like Oasis?”

She looked over at him.

“What gave it away?”

“The fact that you nearly fought me for their album.”

“I wouldn’t call it a fight.”

“You were holding on pretty tightly.”

“I was defending my purchase.”

“You hadn’t purchased it.”

“I was emotionally committed to purchasing it.”

Martin laughed.

“That’s a very serious distinction.”

“It is.”

He nodded thoughtfully, as though considering her argument. “Right. So you’re an Oasis fan.”

“I like them.”

“That’s not quite the same thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“You either like Oasis or you become one of those people who starts telling everyone they’re the greatest band to ever exist.”

You smiled. “And which one are you?”

He looked at her for a moment.

“The second.”

“Of course you are.”

She turned back towards the shelves, already looking for something else.

Martin watched her for a second before asking, “So what else do you listen to?”

You immediately gave him a suspicious look.

“Why?”

“I’m curious.”

“You’re judging me.”

“I haven’t even heard your answer yet.”

“You’ve already got that look.”

“What look?”

“That look.”

He smiled. “Very descriptive.”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“I genuinely don’t.”

You rolled her eyes and turned back to the shelves.

“Pop.”

There was a pause.

“Pop?”

“Yes.”

He said nothing.

She looked at him.

His expression was neutral.

Far too neutral.

“Go on, then.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking something.”

“I was.”

She waited.

Martin’s mouth twitched.

“Vanilla.”

Her eyebrows shot upwards.

“Vanilla?”

“Safe.”

You stared at him as if he’d personally offended her entire music library.

“Safe?”

“Very.”

“You listen to punk music.”

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t automatically make your music taste interesting.”

He laughed.

“I never said it did.”

“You implied it.”

“I really didn’t.”

“You absolutely did.”

Martin leaned against the edge of the shelving, folding his arms.

“So what do you listen to?”

You started listing artists, watching his face carefully as she did. He nodded along to some, raised his eyebrows at others and remained deliberately expressionless when you mentioned Harry Styles.

You noticed immediately.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You made the face again.”

“What face?”

“That one.”

He laughed. “You really need to start giving these faces names.”

“It’s the face you make when you’re trying not to insult me.”

“I’m not trying.”

You stared at him.

He grinned.

“See? That face.”

You shook her head, though you were smiling now.

“You’re horrible.”

“And yet you’re still talking to me.”

“I haven’t decided whether that’s a good thing yet.”

“Take your time.”

You moved further down the aisle, picking up another record and examining the back of it.

“So what’s so special about your music, then?”

“My music?”

“Yes. Since you’ve apparently decided mine is boring.”

“I didn’t say boring.”

“You said vanilla.”

“That’s worse?”

“Much worse.”

Martin laughed again, this time properly.

You couldn’t help smiling too.

He reached for a record from the shelf and held it up.

“This.”

You looked at it.

“Never heard of them.”

“Exactly.”

“That doesn’t make them good.”

“You haven’t listened to them.”

“There’s probably a reason for that.”

“Probably because you’ve spent your entire life listening to songs about falling in love.”

You looked at him incredulously.

“That’s rich coming from someone who was just passionately defending Oasis.”

“There’s a difference.”

“What’s the difference?”

“They’re good.”

You laughed. “That’s your argument?”

“It’s a strong one.”

“It’s terrible.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Of Oasis?”

“Of my superior taste.”

You looked him up and down before glancing back at the record.

“I think I’ll survive.”

Martin smiled to himself and returned the record to the shelf.

They continued walking through the shop, their conversation becoming less about the records themselves and more about each other. Every few minutes one of them would pick something up, make a comment, and inevitably end up defending their music choices while the other tried to dismantle the argument.

You discovered that Martin had strong opinions about nearly everything. Albums were either brilliant or overrated. Certain bands were apparently untouchable. Some songs were “criminally underrated,” while others were “the musical equivalent of eating plain toast.”

You found this particularly entertaining because he seemed completely unaware of how dramatic he sounded.

“You know you don’t have to talk about music like you’re reviewing a five-course meal,” you told him.

“I take it seriously.”

“You take it too seriously.”

“You’re the one who nearly started a fight over an Oasis record.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

You smiled innocently.

“I wanted it.”

Martin shook his head.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re pretentious.”

“I’m passionate.”

“That’s what pretentious people say.”

He laughed, and you realised she had stopped looking at the records altogether.

You were just enjoying the argument.

It was strange.

They had known each other for less than an hour, and somehow talking to him already felt easier than it should have.

Neither of them seemed to notice how much time had passed.

Or perhaps they did.

Neither seemed particularly interested in mentioning it.

[lover-lila]

You’re here that’s the thing

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚‧｡⋆ bf!jake sim x fem!reader

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆🧁༉‧₊˚. now playing ‘you’re here that’s the thing - beabadoobee

headcanons about having jake as your boyfriend — the quiet moments, the little routines, and the kind of love that doesn’t need to be loud to be felt.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ Jake is the type to notice your presence before anything else. You could be sitting across the room doing absolutely nothing, and he’d keep glancing over just because he likes knowing you’re there.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ He loves when you’re comfortable enough around him to sit in silence. No pressure to talk, no awkwardness—just existing together.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ If you’re having a bad day, he doesn’t immediately bombard you with questions. He’ll quietly sit beside you and eventually ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ He remembers tiny things you mention casually. Your favourite snack, a song you said you liked once, the way you take your drink.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ Physical affection is subtle. His shoulder against yours, his hand briefly resting on your arm, sitting close enough that your knees touch.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ He’d absolutely send you random pictures from his day. Nothing important. A funny sign, his food, the sky, a dog he saw. Basically: I saw this and thought you’d like it.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ Jake would have that thing where he looks at you when you aren’t looking. And the second you catch him, he suddenly becomes very interested in whatever’s on his phone.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ He genuinely enjoys doing boring things with you. Grocery shopping. Walking around a bookstore. Getting snacks. Sitting in the car while music plays.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ If you fall asleep around him, he doesn’t wake you unless he has to. He just lowers the volume and lets you sleep.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ And the biggest one: he doesn’t need some huge romantic moment to feel close to you. Sometimes just hearing you laugh from another room is enough to make his entire mood better.

[lover-lila]

DIET PEPSI - LEE HEESEUNG

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ situationship!lee heeseung x fem!reader

°🥂⋆.ೃ🍸࿔*:･ now playing ‘diet pepsi’- addison rae

synopsis: you and Lee Heeseung exist in the space between almost and never—an on-and-off cycle of late-night calls, quiet confessions, and feelings neither of you fully claim. He gives you just enough to stay, but never enough to be real… and you’re starting to realise that “almost” might hurt more than nothing at all.

content warnings: toxic relationship dynamics, on/off relationship, emotional conflict

read here

[lover-lila]

SHE

CHAPTER 1 - (what’s the story) morning glory

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ punk rock!martin x fem!reader ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙— now playing ‘she’ - Harry Styles

synopsis: in a world where martin lives loud, reckless, and unapologetically punk, you exist in soft colours, sweet scents, and quiet comfort. you shouldn’t fit into his life—and he definitely shouldn’t fit into yours—but somehow, your worlds collide in a way neither of you can ignore. between late nights, messy emotions, and stolen moments, martin finds himself drawn to the one person who sees past the chaos, and you discover that even the roughest hearts can learn to be gentle.

word count: 948

Saturday had started without any particular plans.

The kind of Saturday where there was no real reason to get out of bed, but staying there too long somehow made the entire day feel wasted.

By eleven, the curtains were still half-drawn, leaving the bedroom in that soft, greyish light that came through when the weather couldn’t quite decide whether it wanted to rain. Your phone was balanced against the pillow, playing music quietly while you scrolled through it without really taking anything in.

You had been listening to the same playlist for the last forty minutes.

Mostly pop.

Mostly Harry Styles.

You weren’t ashamed of it either.

Your phone buzzed again.

Another message from your friend.

friend: you coming out or are you planning on spending the entire day in bed.

You stared at it for a second before typing back.

you: depends. is there a compelling reason for me to leave my house.

The reply came almost immediately.

friend: yes.

you: what.

friend: food.

you: you should’ve led with that.

That was how you ended up getting dressed.

Not particularly quickly, either.

You changed her top twice, stood in front of her wardrobe wondering why she apparently owned clothes but somehow had nothing to wear, and eventually settled on something simple. You grabbed her bag, shoved your phone inside, checked that she’d actually remembered your purse this time and headed downstairs.

By the time you left the house, the weather had improved slightly.

The pavement was still damp from earlier rain, and the air had that cool smell that came after a wet morning. Cars moved steadily along the road, tyres hissing against the road, while people wandered past carrying shopping bags and takeaway coffees.

It was an ordinary day.

Nothing about it suggested that you were going to meet anyone.

Especially not him.

Across town, Martin had already been out for a while.

He had no real destination in mind.

That wasn’t unusual.

He liked walking without necessarily knowing where he was going, particularly when he had nowhere he needed to be. There was something about wandering around with headphones on and no particular schedule that made the day feel longer.

Eventually, though, he’d ended up outside the record shop.

The shop had been there for years.

Its front window was crowded with posters and handwritten signs advertising records, gigs and second-hand equipment. The lettering on the door had started to fade, and one of the display lights inside flickered occasionally.

Martin pushed the door open.

A small bell above it rang.

The smell hit him first.

Old cardboard sleeves. Dust. Wood. That faint, almost sweet smell that seemed to belong specifically to record shops.

Music was playing quietly through the speakers overhead.

He nodded vaguely at the person behind the counter before disappearing between the rows.

He wasn’t looking for anything specific.

At least, that was what he’d told himself.

Twenty minutes later, he was still there.

He moved slowly through the sections, occasionally pulling a record halfway out before deciding against it. He picked up one album, inspected the price, scoffed under his breath and put it back.

Then he noticed the Oasis section.

His attention shifted immediately.

He crouched slightly, scanning the records.

There.

(What’s the Story) Morning Glory?

He reached towards it.

At exactly the same moment, another hand reached for the same sleeve from the opposite side.

Both hands stopped.

For a second, neither person moved.

Martin looked at the hand.

Then up.

You were standing on the other side of the rack, looking just as surprised.

There was a brief silence.

Your eyes flicked down towards the record.

Then back to him.

“You want this?”

Martin glanced at the album again.

“I was reaching for it.”

“So was I.”

“I noticed.”

“Good.”

Neither moved.

A beat passed.

Then another.

Martin raised an eyebrow.

“You planning on letting go?”

You looked down at their hands, then back at him.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“You reached second.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It usually does.”

“According to who?”

“Me.”

You gave him a look.

“That sounds very authoritative.”

“I try.”

A tiny smile threatened at the corner of your mouth before you managed to hide it.

Martin noticed.

He didn’t mention it.

Instead, he nodded towards the record.

“So you actually want it?”

You looked almost offended.

“No, I just enjoy reaching for things I don’t want.”

“Fair enough.”

“I do want it.”

“Right.”

He finally loosened his grip slightly.

You did the same.

Neither actually let go.

You stared at him.

He stared back.

“You’re not very good at sharing, are you?”

“You’re the one holding on.”

“You’re also holding on.”

“Yeah, but I got here first.”

“You literally didn’t.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“You’re annoying.”

Martin’s mouth twitched.

“You’ve known me for about thirty seconds.”

“And I’ve gathered enough.”

That made him laugh quietly.

You seemed mildly surprised that she’d managed to get a genuine reaction out of him.

For a moment, they simply stood there, still holding onto opposite sides of the same Oasis record.

Then she sighed.

“Fine.”

You released it.

Martin looked down at the album in his hand.

Then back at you.

“You’re giving up?”

“No.”

She reached past him and pulled another copy from the shelf behind it.

Martin blinked.

You held it up triumphantly.

“There was another one.”

He looked at the second copy.

Then at her.

“You knew that was there?”

“Obviously.”

“You’ve been messing with me?”

“Maybe.”

He shook his head, laughing under his breath.

“That’s cruel.”

You smiled.

“It’s funny.”

And just like that, neither of them seemed particularly interested in leaving the aisle anymore.