elryuse

[elryuse]

SHORT YANDERE STORIES

JOY TO MY WORLD (YANDERE JOY X MALE READER

RED BIRTHDAY (YANDERE IRENE X MALE READER)

CYNICAL (YANDERE RYUJIN X MALE READER)

THE BEACH BITCH IN BALI (YANDERE AHIN X MALE READER)

[elryuse]

Hey, Can u make a yandere story abt Ryujin a senior at school being possessive and very obsessed abt y/n as a junior when he first came to school. Y/n secretly have mommy kinks. Make it with smuts

MY SASSY SENIOR

YANDERE SENIOR DOM RYUJIN X MALE READER

Y/n flinched as the leather strap of Ryujin's backpack whacked him across the back of the head. It was a familiar sting, a daily ritual since he'd accidentally bumped into her, spilling her precious limited edition coffee all over her designer sneakers. The entire school knew to steer clear of Ryujin, the undisputed queen bee with a vicious temper that could curdle milk at fifty paces.

Today, however, was different. Ryujin lingered, the cruel glint in her crimson eyes replaced by something he couldn't decipher. Her lips, usually curled in a sneer, were parted slightly, a hint of a predatory smile playing at the corners.

"Look at me, trash," she snarled, her voice a delicious blend of venom and something that sounded suspiciously like… amusement?

Y/n hesitantly met her gaze. Ryujin towered over him, a terrifying goddess in a black leather jacket and ripped jeans. Her aura crackled with a dangerous energy, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

"You think because you spilled your pathetic excuse for coffee on me you can just walk away?"

He shook his head, voice barely above a whisper. "I... I'm sorry, Ryujin. I didn't see you."

A laugh erupted from her throat, a chilling sound that sent shivers down his spine. But there was a musicality to it, a hint of something unexpected. "Sorry? You think sorry fixes anything? You'll pay for this, Y/n. You'll pay dearly."

Her words were a dark promise, and for the following weeks, Y/n lived in perpetual fear. The bullying escalated, a twisted game she played with him. Tripping him in the hallways, shoving him into lockers, leaving anonymous notes threatening worse. Each humiliation was followed by a searing intensity in her gaze, a possessiveness that made his breath catch.

One afternoon, Ryujin cornered him after school, a feral glint in her eyes. She shoved him into the deserted girls' bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Panic clawed at Y/n's throat as her laughter echoed off the tiled walls.

"Nowhere to run, little mouse," she purred, her voice a silken threat.

She shoved him against the wall, her body hot and overpowering against his. Her hands, roughened from years of volleyball practice, grabbed his wrists, pinning him against the cold tiles. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth as his lip split open from the pressure.

But amidst the terror, a strange heat bloomed in his core. The fear was laced with something else, a primal thrill he couldn't explain. Especially when her grip tightened, her breath hot against his ear.

"This is what happens when you disobey me," she hissed, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "This is what you deserve."

Then, something unexpected happened. With a swift movement, she shoved him down to his knees, his head colliding with the metal shelf under the sink. He groaned, pain exploding in his skull.

But instead of delivering another blow, she dipped her hand into the filthy toilet bowl, the yellow liquid dripping from her fingers. Before he could react, she plunged his head in, holding it there with surprising strength.

His lungs burned, the putrid water filling his nose and mouth. He thrashed against her hold, gasping for breath. But she only laughed, a high-pitched, manic sound that sent shivers down his spine.

Then, just as abruptly as it began, it stopped. She pulled him up, his head ringing and his vision blurred. He blinked, his eyes meeting hers. Fear still clung to him, but now it was laced with something else – a dark fascination.

A slow, predatory smile spread across Ryujin's face. "You like that, don't you?" she purred, her voice a silken caress.

Y/n realized with a jolt that he couldn't deny it. The fear, the pain, it had ignited a spark within him, a secret shame he couldn't articulate.

Before he could answer, her lips crashed onto his. It was a rough, demanding kiss, the taste of copper and fear mingling with a surprising sweetness. He responded instinctively, his fear morphing into an unfamiliar yearning.

The bathroom stall became their battleground, her body a weapon, her dominance a scorching pleasure. Her laughter mixed with his ragged breaths, a horrifying symphony that echoed off the cold tiles.

When it was over, they both slumped against the wall, panting. Ryujin's eyes were glazed over, a manic glint dancing within them. But for the first time, she didn't look like a predator about to pounce. She looked… content.

"You're mine, Y/n," she rasped, her voice possessiveness barely veiled. "I won't let anyone else touch you". Y/n trembled, not just from the aftermath of their depraved encounter but from the chilling possessiveness in Ryujin's voice. A new kind of fear settled in his gut, a sickly mix of terror and something he couldn't quite define – a twisted sense of belonging.

The following days were a blur of stolen moments. Ryujin, still sporting the playful cruelty in her eyes, would corner him in deserted hallways, fire escapes, even the janitor's closet – anywhere she could exert her newfound dominance. Each encounter was a whirlwind of rough kisses, sharp commands, and a strange, exhilarating pain that left him breathless and yearning for more.

One particularly steamy session shoved against a locker after school, Ryujin paused, her crimson eyes narrowing dangerously. "Who was that girl who looked at you earlier?" she hissed, her breath hot against his neck.

Y/n, caught in the throes of arousal, blinked in confusion. "What girl?"

"The one with the stupid pink hair by the vending machines," she growled, her grip tightening around his throat. "Did you even glance at her?"

Panic choked him. "No, no, of course not! It was just…"

"Just what?" she snarled, her voice dangerously low.

"Just you," he blurted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "O-only you."

Her grip loosened a fraction, and a flicker of something resembling satisfaction crossed her face. But the possessiveness remained, a simmering undercurrent that threatened to erupt at any moment.

Their secret meetings became a twisted addiction. Y/n, once the terrified victim, found himself drawn to the danger, the thrill of being dominated by the most feared girl in school. He craved the sting of her leather jacket against his bare skin, the sharp bite of her commands, the humiliation laced with a perverse pleasure.

One evening, Ryujin texted him a cryptic message: "Dorm. Now."

His heart pounded a frantic rhythm against his ribs as he snuck into her dorm building, the weight of transgression heavy on his shoulders. He found her waiting in her room, a crimson silk nightgown clinging to her curves. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, a seductive promise hanging heavy in the air.

She pulled him towards her, her touch sending shivers down his spine. "You're late," she murmured, her voice a husky whisper.

"S-sorry," he stammered, captivated by the dangerous glint in her eyes.

"Sorry isn't enough," she purred, her lips brushing against his ear. "You need to be punished."

Her punishment was a nightmarish symphony of dominance and pleasure. She pushed him to his knees, the soft silk of her nightgown a stark contrast to the harsh reality of her commands. Her touch was both cruel and tender, leaving him aching and gasping for breath.

As they reached their climax, a guttural moan escaped Ryujin's lips. Her eyes, usually filled with a predatory glint, held a vulnerability that sent a jolt through him. He reached out, a hesitant touch against her cheek.

"Don't," she hissed, flinching away from his touch. The vulnerability vanished, replaced by a cold, hard mask. "Don't act like you care."

Y/n withdrew his hand, a cold dread settling in his stomach. He craved her dominance, her possessiveness, but the thought of genuine affection seemed to terrify her. Was he just another pawn in her twisted game?

The following weeks became a tense dance. Ryujin's possessiveness escalated to a suffocating level. She monitored his every move, his phone calls, even his text messages. A single glance towards another girl resulted in a brutal punishment, a reminder of who he belonged to.

One day, a group of girls, concerned about his increasingly gaunt appearance and haunted eyes, cornered him after school. They offered a sympathetic ear, a chance to escape. But before he could respond, Ryujin materialized out of nowhere, her face a mask of fury.

With a snarl that sent shivers down everyone's spine, she shoved the other girls aside. "He's mine," she declared, her voice dripping with venom. "Don't you dare touch what doesn't belong to you."

The other girls scattered, leaving Y/n alone with his tormentor. He looked at her, a cold realization dawning on him. He wasn't Ryujin's lover; he was her possession. And there was no escape from the twisted love that bound them.

Despair gnawed at Y/n's insides. He'd traded fear for a different kind of prison, a gilded cage built from twisted affection and suffocating control. Ryujin had orchestrated their move into a cozy apartment, a picture-perfect symbol of a loving couple, if anyone dared to peek behind the carefully constructed facade.

Tonight, exhaustion painted stripes of fatigue across Y/n's face. He barely noticed Ryujin saunter into the bedroom, her nightgown clinging to her every curve. The air crackled with unspoken tension, a familiar prelude to their dark rituals.

"Finally deigned to join me?" she purred, her voice devoid of warmth.

Without waiting for a response, she straddled him on the bed, her crimson eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger. "You owe me," she declared, her voice a delicious blend of venom and desire.

"Owe you what?" he mumbled, the fight long gone from his voice.

"Obedience," she hissed, her leather belt a menacing glint in the moonlight as she snapped it against her palm. "And pleasure."

Y/n flinched, but it was a reflex, devoid of fear. He craved the sting, the pain, the twisted sense of belonging it brought. Tonight, however, there was an added edge to her dominance, a possessiveness fuelled by a new insecurity.

"Earlier, in the hallway," she bit her lip, a sliver of vulnerability peeking through the cracks in her facade. "That girl… you looked at her."

He shook his head, defeated. "No, Ryujin. Only you."

Her eyes narrowed, searching for any sign of deceit. Then, with a sigh that seemed to expel the last vestiges of doubt, she leaned down, her lips brushing his ear. "Good boy," she whispered, her voice laced with a chilling satisfaction.

The night that followed was a symphony of pain and pleasure. Ryujin unleashed her possessiveness with a ferocity Y/n hadn't witnessed before. She marked him as hers, leaving bruises that bloomed like dark constellations on his skin, a permanent reminder of her ownership.

As the night wore on, and exhaustion settled in, a flicker of something akin to tenderness appeared in her eyes. She cradled him close, her breath hot against his cheek. "Don't ever leave me," she murmured, her voice a fragile whisper.

Y/n didn't respond. The warmth of her embrace felt like a cruel trick in the face of the iron bars he knew surrounded him. He was trapped, a prisoner in a gilded cage built from obsession and desire. He closed his eyes, the rhythmic rise and fall of Ryujin's breath a lullaby for a love story as dark and twisted as the night itself. He wasn't sure if he was a prisoner or a captive king, but one thing was certain: Ryujin ruled, and he was forever bound to her twisted, possessive love.

#itzy ryujin #shin ryujin imagines #shin ryujin smut #shin ryujin icons #shin ryujin #ryujin #itzy #yandere blog #yandere roleplay #yandere stories #yandere #kpop yandere #pyschopath #dom #mommy k!nk #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #sexy content #update #kpop smut

[elryuse]

Any kinks that are off limits? Or any kinks you particularly like writing?

And if I don't have a person or group in mind for an idea, can I leave it essentially blank and let you fill it in?

Kinks that are off limits? Hmm as long as it's not rape, I guess I can write any kink you want. Particular kink that I like, Hmm probably Mommy Kink, Impregnation Kink, Reverse Cuckold.

Can you leave the person or group blank? Yeah Man, As long as you have the kink, and have a little bit of a vision on how the story began and ends, I think I can work with it.

#request #update

[elryuse]

Yandere Gaeul x male reader

SNAP!

YANDERE GAEUL X MALE READER

Y/n gripped Gaeul's hand tightly, his knuckles white. The sterile hospital room smelled faintly of disinfectant, a stark contrast to the vibrant perfume that used to cling to her. The car crash had taken more than just her mobility, it had stolen the bubbly, energetic Gaeul he knew and loved.

"Don't worry," Y/n murmured, his voice rough with suppressed emotion. "We'll get through this together. You'll be back on stage, dazzling everyone again."

Gaeul's gaze, once playful and sparkling, was now a dull echo of its former self. A faint tremor ran through her hand, the only response she gave. Despair gnawed at Y/n. The doctors had been brutally honest; the nerve damage was extensive, dancing an uncertain future before them.

Days turned into weeks, then months. Y/n became Gaeul's constant companion, a rock amidst the storm raging within her. He spoon-fed her, helped her with physical therapy, and listened to her tirades of frustration. Slowly, a flicker of the old Gaeul reappeared, but it was laced with a bitterness that made his heart ache.

One evening, as Y/n helped her into bed, Gaeul's hand snaked around his wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. "Stay," she rasped, her voice a mere whisper.

Fear, a cold, slithering thing, coiled in Y/n's gut. The playful spark in her eyes had been replaced by a dark intensity that sent chills down his spine. He forced a smile, "I can't stay all night, Gaeul. You need your rest."

But her grip only tightened. "No," she hissed, her voice gaining strength. "Don't leave me. You can't leave me now."

Y/n tried to reason with her, but her words were laced with a possessiveness that terrified him. He knew then, with a sickening certainty, that the crash had shattered not just her body, but her mind too.

The tipping point came a week later. Y/n, his own life put on hold, had finally managed to secure a freelance writing job. As he excitedly shared the news with Gaeul, a terrifying transformation unfolded before his eyes.

Her face contorted in rage. "A job? What about me? Who will take care of me? You can't just abandon me now!"

Y/n tried to calm her down, explaining that he needed to work, to build a future for them both. But his words were drowned out by her hysterical screams. It was then he saw it – a glint of steel in her hand, a pair of medical scissors glinting under the bedside lamp.

He backed away, fear paralyzing him. "Gaeul, what are you doing?"

But she was beyond reason, her manic eyes locked on him. "You won't leave me," she shrieked, her voice a chilling parody of their former love songs. "You'll stay with me, forever."

Y/n scrambled back, escaping just as the scissors slashed through the air. The memory of that night haunted him even after he finally managed to leave. The guilt of abandoning her warred with the terror of staying.

Months passed. He moved on, tentatively building a new life, a life without Gaeul. Then, one sunny afternoon, as he strolled hand-in-hand with his new girlfriend, a black pickup truck screeched to a halt next to them.

His heart lurched. He knew, with a chilling certainty, who it was before he even saw her. Gaeul, her face a mask of cold fury, emerged from the truck. Her once vibrant eyes gleamed with a psychotic glint.

"There you are," she purred, her voice devoid of warmth. "I finally found you."

A scream tore from his girlfriend's throat as Gaeul lunged. The world dissolved into chaos. Y/n watched in horror as the woman he loved, twisted by obsession and fueled by madness, took his new happiness away, just as she intended to take everything else.

Gaeul knelt beside him, the cloying scent of her old perfume mixed with the metallic tang of blood now a permanent memory. Her smile, devoid of love, sent shivers down his spine.

"Now," she purred, her voice a chilling whisper, "We'll be forever together".

Y/n's world shrunk to the terrifying reality he now faced. He was trapped, forever bound to a love that had morphed into a monstrous obsession, leaving him with a future as bleak and horrifying as the glint in Gaeul's eyes.

The wedding bells seemed to mock Y/n as he stood stiffly at the altar. The sterile hospital room, the memory of a life stolen, felt a lifetime ago. Gaeul, resplendent in a white gown, beamed a manic smile that sent chills down his spine. Every saccharine vow felt like a knife twisting in his gut. Her possessive hand tightened around his, the diamond ring a cruel reminder of the freedom he'd lost.

The "honeymoon" was a twisted parody of romance. Gaeul clung to him with desperate intensity, her every touch laced with paranoia. Gone were the playful moments, replaced by a suffocating possessiveness. She monitored his every move, his phone calls screened, his emails checked. The world outside their gilded cage was slowly cut off.

Y/n became a prisoner in his own life. He missed the way Gaeul used to smell, a vibrant mix of perfume and backstage dust. He missed the easy laughter they once shared, the way she used to light up a room just by walking in. But voicing any discontent was met with icy glares and veiled threats. He saw a glimpse of the old Gaeul once, a flicker of sadness in her eyes as she watched a couple strolling hand-in-hand on TV. But it was fleeting, swallowed by the monster her obsession had become.

Months bled into years. Gaeul's career skyrocketed, fueled by the dark energy that coursed through her. Y/n, a ghost in her perfect life, became known as "the supportive husband," a carefully crafted image for public consumption. In the dead of night, she'd wake him up in a cold sweat, accusing him of infidelity with fabricated women. Each night, he died a little inside.

One day, a news report sent a jolt through the carefully constructed facade. A forgotten photo of a vibrant Gaeul, before the crash, flashed across the screen. The caption read: "Gaeul's mysterious past: Who was the man by her side?"

Gaeul, the picture of a concerned friend, visited the network demanding the photo's removal. Y/n, watching the news with a detached curiosity, felt a strange tug in his chest. Something about the photo, the way Gaeul's smile seemed genuine… it sparked a faint memory, a feeling he couldn't quite grasp.

Later that night, Gaeul, eyes blazing with murderous intent, stood before him. "You saw it, didn't you?" she snarled.

Fear choked Y/n's voice. "G-gaeul, I swear…"

"Don't lie!" she shrieked, brandishing a vial filled with a clear liquid. "This will take care of those pesky memories."

He watched in horror as she forced the liquid down his throat. The world spun, his thoughts dissolving into a hazy fog. The next morning, he woke up with a blank slate, the past a blurry mess. Gaeul cradled his face, her smile triumphant.

"Now," she whispered, "you'll only remember me. We can finally be happy, forever."

Y/n looked back at her, a stranger in a familiar face. He smiled, a hollow echo of his former self. Gaeul, her twisted love a twisted victory, had finally won. But in the vacant depths of his eyes, a single tear rolled down his cheek, a silent testament to the life, the love, and the man he once was, forever lost in the labyrinth of her obsession.

#ive gaeul #kim gaeul #gaeul #gaeul icons #gaeul ive #ive #yandere roleplay #yandere blog #yandere stories #yandere #kpop yandere #psycopath #horror #thriller #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #apreciation post #update

[elryuse]

Yandere Gahyeon, first she would be really shy and introvert but when you showed her a little attention, she would fall deeper and deeper into madness to be yours?

MAKE U MINE

YANDERE GAHYEON X MALE READER

The sizzling meat blurred in Gahyeon's vision, tears threatening to spill as another group of fans swarmed SuA and Dami for a picture. The restaurant echoed with laughter, a vibrant contrast to the quiet terror gnawing at her.

"Gahyeon-ah," Yoohyeon teased, her voice playful. "Still the invisible woman, huh?"

Gahyeon forced a smile, the sting of rejection a familiar ache. Unlike her outgoing members, Gahyeon craved a genuine connection, not the fleeting adulation of fans. But with her shy nature, that connection always felt just out of reach.

Suddenly, a voice pierced the cheerful chaos. A man, seemingly lost amidst the crowd, hesitantly approached their table. His eyes, a gentle brown, held a genuineness that sent a jolt through Gahyeon. A smile played on his lips, breaking the tension that had gripped her.

"Excuse me," he began, his voice soft but polite. "Is this Dreamcatcher?"

The other members erupted in surprised greetings, but Gahyeon found herself speechless, mesmerized by the warmth radiating from him.

"I'm a huge fan," he continued, his gaze lingering on her for a beat too long. "Especially you. Would it be too much to ask for a picture… together?"

Gahyeon's world tilted on its axis. Here, amidst the usual frenzy of fan requests, was someone singling her out. A blush flooded her cheeks, her voice barely a whisper as she stammered out a yes.

The moment the picture was taken, the other members started buzzing with excitement.

"Wow, Gahyeon-unnie, you and him look good together!" Dami squealed, her eyes wide with mischief.

Heat flooded Gahyeon's face, her usual shyness momentarily forgotten. Y/n, the stranger's name, chuckled sheepishly. The interaction was brief, but the memory of his kindness lingered with Gahyeon long after his departure.

Back in their dorm, Gahyeon couldn't shake the feeling of connection. She impulsively typed Y/n's number into her phone, her fingers trembling with a mix of excitement and fear. A text message left unsent hung in the chat box. Finally, with a deep breath, she hit send.

"Hi, this is Gahyeon from Dreamcatcher. Thank you for asking for a picture back at the restaurant. It meant a lot."

The reply came almost instantly. "No problem, Gahyeon. It was amazing meeting you. You're even more beautiful in person."

A giddy feeling bubbled inside Gahyeon. Over the next few days, a whirlwind of messages blossomed into late-night conversations. Y/n listened to her anxieties about idol life, offering words of comfort that soothed her loneliness. Gahyeon, in turn, discovered a kind, caring man who saw beyond the K-pop persona.

But this newfound happiness twisted within Gahyeon. The once shy girl became possessive and obsessive. Every ping of her phone, every conversation not about him, sparked a growing fear of losing this connection. Her texts became constant, demanding, her calls more frequent.

Y/n, initially understanding of her shyness, grew wary of the increasingly clingy behavior. He tried to gently set boundaries, but Gahyeon interpreted his attempts as rejection. Fear turned to rage, and Gahyeon began a terrifying descent into madness.

Driven by an unhealthy possessiveness, Gahyeon started digging into Y/n's life. Social media, public records, anything to feel closer to him. One day, she found a picture of him with another woman, a friend according to the caption. But to Gahyeon, it was a betrayal, a threat to her fragile hold on happiness.

Fury and obsession warred within her. She sent a barrage of messages, accusing him of infidelity. Y/n, overwhelmed by the sudden accusations, tried to reason with her, but Gahyeon was beyond reason.

Days turned into a horrifying silence. Y/n, fearing for his safety, stopped responding. But Gahyeon wouldn't let go. She started appearing outside his workplace, leaving cryptic messages soaked in red paint on his doorstep. Her sweet persona had been devoured by a terrifying intensity.

One night, Y/n received a call. A distorted voice, devoid of its former sweetness, rasped through the phone. "You'll never escape me," it whispered. "You'll see how much I truly love you."

Y/n hung up, his hand trembling. Gahyeon wasn't the shy girl he'd fallen for. She was a monster, and her twisted love was a cage from which there seemed to be no escape.

The paranoia gnawed at Y/n like a ravenous rat. Sleep was a luxury he no longer afforded, every rustle of leaves outside his new apartment window sending jolts of terror through him. He jumped at every chirp of a bird, every ring of his (now disconnected) phone.

One day, while venturing out for groceries, disguised in a cap and sunglasses, his world tilted on its axis. There, across the street, was Gahyeon. Her eyes, once filled with warmth, were now hollow pits of obsessive devotion.

She didn't approach him then, but the encounter shattered any remaining hope. Y/n knew then that changing his life wasn't enough. He needed to disappear, vanish into thin air, a ghost with no past and an uncertain future.

The sacrifice was immense. His career, his dreams – all abandoned at the altar of fear. Yet, survival was the only instinct left. He reached out to a private investigator, a man who specialized in vanishing acts. The cost was exorbitant, but Y/n was willing to give up everything just to breathe freely again.

The investigator, a gruff man named Han, laid out the harsh realities. A new identity, a new life in a remote village, and complete radio silence were the only guarantees. Y/n agreed without hesitation.

The process was agonizingly slow. Weeks turned into months as Han meticulously crafted a new life for Y/n. A new name, a fabricated backstory, and a one-way ticket to a secluded village nestled in the mountains – a place untouched by the frenzy of the idol world.

The day of departure arrived, shrouded in a suffocating veil of sadness. Leaving his life behind felt like dying, but the thought of facing Gahyeon's twisted affection was far more terrifying.

As the plane soared higher and higher, Y/n stole a glance at his new identity. Minjun. A simple name for a simple life. Yet, a flicker of doubt remained. Could he truly escape the clutches of a stalker driven by a warped sense of love?

The answer arrived a month later, shattering the fragile peace Y/n had built. A package arrived, addressed to Minjun, containing a single item – a Dreamcatcher photocard, Gahyeon's face defaced with a disturbing crimson smile.

The message was clear: no matter where he ran, her twisted love would follow. Fear, cold and suffocating, wrapped itself around Y/n once more. He may have escaped Seoul, but escaping Gahyeon's warped affection seemed like an impossible dream.

#dreamcatcher #gahyeon #dreamcatcher gahyeon #yandere roleplay #yandere blog #yandere stories #yandere #kpop yandere #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #sexy content #apreciation post #update

[elryuse]

Yandere Sullyoon X Yandere Sana X male reader, Sana is your teacher and Sullyoon is your best friend and you didn't know if both are related not by blood but by obsession Sana was the one who raised Sullyoon and now both hungry with your presence in their glided cage?

CLASSROOM TROUBLES

YANDERE TEACHER SANA & BF SULLYOON X MALE READER

The condensation on Y/n's iced coffee blurred his vision as he watched Ms. Sana across the cafeteria. Her laughter, usually a melodic chime, sounded off-key today, laced with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down his spine. Every stolen glance, every lingering touch during "study sessions" had begun to feel less playful and more like a predator marking its territory.

Suddenly, the cafeteria door flew open, banging against the wall. Sullyoon stormed in, her usually vibrant hair a mess, eyes blazing with a fury that made Y/n flinch. She marched straight for their table, her backpack slamming against the plastic with a jarring thud.

"Y/n, come on," she barked, her voice tight with barely suppressed anger. "We have studying to do… at my place." She didn't even acknowledge Ms. Sana, the snub hanging heavy in the air.

Trapped between his budding attraction for his teacher and his loyalty to his best friend, Y/n stammered. But before he could speak, Sullyoon leaned in, her voice a scorching whisper against his ear.

"Don't worry," she hissed, a possessiveness that had never been present before dripping from her words. "She can't have you. Not anymore."

Then, in a move that left Y/n head-spinning, she grabbed his face and planted a rough, demanding kiss on his lips. He stood frozen, overwhelmed by the sudden aggression. Ms. Sana's reaction was even more unexpected.

Instead of outrage, a slow, chilling smile spread across her face. Her eyes, usually warm and inviting, glinted with a cold ruthlessness that sent a wave of unease crashing over Y/n.

"Bold move," Ms. Sana purred, the playful facade completely gone. "But a little amateurish, wouldn't you say?"

Sullyoon's hand tightened on Y/n's arm, her eyes narrowing at Ms. Sana. The air crackled with unspoken tension, a silent war declared over Y/n, a prize they both coveted.

The following weeks felt like a descent into a nightmare. Sullyoon followed Y/n everywhere, clinging to him like a shadow. Her playful banter morphed into a suffocating possessiveness, her laughter replaced by a menacing glare whenever another girl even dared to look at him.

Ms. Sana's tactics were more subtle, but no less unsettling. Extra tutoring sessions extended late into the night, her hand lingering on his longer than necessary while "helping" him with a problem. The way her eyes followed him across the crowded classroom became predatory, sending chills down his spine even as a part of him thrilled to the unspoken threat.

One evening, as Y/n "studied" with Sullyoon at her apartment, the air grew thick with unspoken desires. Frustration with the constant tug-of-war simmered between him and Sullyoon.

"Why are you doing this?" Y/n finally blurted, his voice tight with confusion and a hint of anger.

Sullyoon's playful facade crumbled, replaced by a raw vulnerability that left Y/n speechless. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over as she confessed her long-held affection, a feeling she'd buried under the cloak of friendship.

Just then, a piercing knock on the door shattered the emotional intensity. Y/n's heart hammered in his chest as Sullyoon rushed to open it. On the other side stood Ms. Sana, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

"Lost, Ms. Choi?" she asked, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.

Sullyoon's jaw clenched, but before she could retort, Ms. Sana glided past her, her eyes meeting Y/n's in a silent challenge.

"Perhaps," Ms. Sana continued, her gaze flickering to Sullyoon, "there's a more efficient way to handle this situation."

Y/n's blood ran cold as he watched a chilling alliance form before his very eyes. Sullyoon's face, moments ago etched with vulnerability, hardened with a new resolve. A twisted smile mirrored Ms. Sana's.

"You're right," Sullyoon agreed, her voice cold. "There is."

They huddled together, their whispers barely audible, the only sound in the tense silence. Y/n, trapped in a web of his own making, watched a plan unfold – a plan that terrified him, a plan that promised a future of ownership rather than love, a future where Sullyoon and Ms. Sana, no longer rivals, would share him, control him, make him theirs.

The weeks that followed were a chilling dance of manipulation. Sullyoon and Ms. Sana, no longer rivals but co-conspirators, played Y/n like a fiddle. Fear tactics and seductive lures became their weapons. A stray glance from another girl brought Sullyoon's icy glare and thinly veiled threats. Ms. Sana, weaponizing her authority, assigned him extra credit projects - sessions that stretched far past school hours, her touch lingering unnecessarily as she "guided" him.

The dam finally broke one evening after school. Sullyoon, under Ms. Sana's watchful eye, slipped a date-rape drug into Y/n's after-school drink. He felt the world around him warp and distort, a sickening feeling blooming in his stomach.

Ms. Sana's lips, usually cool and collected, were on him first, a demanding kiss fueled by a twisted sense of victory. When his protests turned into incoherent mumbles, Sullyoon joined in, their hands a whirlwind of exploration on his numb body.

Even through a haze of confusion and fear, Y/n registered the sickening sense of ownership etched on their faces. This wasn't about love; it was about conquest.

He woke up the next morning in Sullyoon's apartment, the sheets tangled around him, a hollow ache replacing the violation. Sullyoon and Ms. Sana were already awake, a satisfied smirk playing on their lips.

"Welcome to your new reality, Y/n," Sullyoon purred, her voice devoid of its usual warmth.

From that day on, his life became a carefully orchestrated performance. They were the picture-perfect couple at school, Sullyoon the possessive girlfriend, Ms. Sana the concerned teacher. But after the final bell, his nightmare began.

Every afternoon became a ritual. As soon as school ended, Y/n found himself whisked away to their shared apartment, a place that felt more like a prison than a home. Sullyoon and Ms. Sana, no longer hiding their possessive desires, immediately pushed him onto the bed.

There were no whispered sweet nothings, just rough kisses and demanding touches. They reveled in his fear, his choked sobs a twisted aphrodisiac. Each night, they took turns, their bodies a constant reminder of his powerlessness.

Y/n, trapped in a web of his own desires and their ruthless manipulations, learned to compartmentalize. He wore a mask of forced cheer at school, a hollow shell consumed by despair.

One night, after a particularly brutal session, Y/n collapsed onto the bed, tears streaming down his face.

Sullyoon, sprawled next to him, smirked. "Crying won't change anything," she said, her voice devoid of sympathy.

Ms. Sana joined them, her fingers tracing a mocking pattern on Y/n's cheek. "We own you now, Y/n," she whispered. "And this is just the beginning."

Y/n choked back a sob, staring at the ceiling. Escape felt like a distant dream, lost in the suffocating embrace of their twisted desires. He was a prize, a possession, forever trapped in their chilling game of love and control.

#twice sana #sana #minatozaki sana #twice #sullyoon #nmixx sullyoon #seol yoona #nmixx #yandere roleplay #yandere blog #yandere stories #yandere #kpop yandere #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #sexy content #update

[elryuse]

HER SILENT LANGUAGE

ROSE X MALE READER

Tags : Busy Rich Idol GF Rosé, Shy Male Boyfriend Reader, Slight Dom Rosé, Kiss, Cuddle, Vanilla sex

The fluorescent lights of the studio buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow on Rosé's perfectly made-up face. But beneath the layers of mascara and lipstick, a deep sigh escaped her lips. The shoot – a glamorous ad for high-end makeup – had been draining, filled with endless retakes and meticulous adjustments. All she craved was a break, a moment to shed the artifice and melt into someone's arms. Someone's warm, familiar arms, preferably.

Pulling out her phone, Rosé dialed Y/n's number. Her boyfriend, patient and supportive, had been her rock throughout the grueling comeback preparations. But their schedules had been brutal, with him neck-deep in his own projects and her constantly filming.

"Hey, beautiful," Y/n's voice answered, a hint of tiredness laced with concern. "Everything alright?"

"Almost," Rosé admitted, her voice soft. "I finished the shoot, but…" she trailed off, the unspoken longing hanging heavy in the air.

Y/n understood her unspoken plea immediately. "Are you back in Seoul yet?"

"Just landed," Rosé replied, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes. "But not at the dorm. I did something… unconventional."

Intrigue piqued, Y/n couldn't help but grin. "Unconventional, huh? Tell me."

Rosé giggled, a sound as rare and precious as a blooming flower in a concrete jungle. "I booked a hotel room. A really nice one, with a king-sized bed and a view of the Han River."

The implication hung heavy. A blush crept up Y/n's neck. "Rosé, you don't have to do this. You must be exhausted."

"I am," she admitted, "but exhausted and craving something else too. You."

He could practically hear the pout in her voice. Rosé, the fierce and captivating performer, often surprised him with her vulnerability. It fueled a warmth in his chest that made him want to bridge the physical distance separating them.

"I wouldn't want to interrupt your comeback preparations," he mumbled, ever the dutiful boyfriend.

"Oh, please," Rosé scoffed playfully. "A few stolen moments with the most incredible man I know won't derail anything. Just get yourself here. Now."

Her voice held a playful command that left no room for argument. Y/n, his heart pounding with a delicious mix of nervousness and excitement, readily agreed.

A couple of hours later, Y/n stood outside the luxurious hotel room, a bouquet of lilies clutched in his hand. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the whirlwind that was Rosé, a whirlwind he both adored and found slightly intimidating.

The moment he rang the doorbell, the door flew open. Rosé, clad in a silk robe that barely skimmed her thigh, stood before him, a radiant smile illuminating her face. But it was the hunger in her eyes, a mirrored reflection of his own desire, that sent a jolt through him.

Before he could utter a single word, she pulled him into a crushing embrace. The scent of her signature perfume mingled with the floral aroma of the lilies, and he melted into her touch. She kissed him then, a kiss filled with a desperate yearning that left them both breathless.

"Y/n," she breathed against his lips, her voice husky with suppressed desire. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

The room became a blur of discarded clothes and whispered sweet nothings. Rosé, usually the shy one when it came to physical intimacy, took the lead, pushing him gently onto the bed, her dominance both exhilarating and endearing. "Fuck me.. Fuck me real good Y/n". She breathed against his ears, Her whisper getting his body all electric.

Her touch was a whisper of fire against his skin, sending shivers down his spine. Her kisses were a storm, demanding and passionate, a stark contrast to the composed idol persona she presented to the world.

He responded with an eagerness that surprised even himself, mirroring her intensity with every touch. They explored each other with an urgency born from weeks of separation, their bodies rediscovering a rhythm as familiar as their favorite song.

As the night wore on, the air crackled with unspoken emotions. Words seemed superfluous as they found solace in each other's touch, a shared language that transcended the pressures of their hectic lives. The city outside pulsed with its own rhythm, but within the confines of the luxurious room, their world existed in a silent symphony of sighs and whispered promises.

When the first rays of dawn painted the cityscape a soft orange, they lay entwined, the remnants of their passion clinging to their bodies. A contented silence settled between them, a comfortable space where they didn't need to be anyone but themselves.

Suddenly, Rosé's phone buzzed, the shrill ringtone shattering the peaceful serenity. A frown marred her face as she saw her manager's name flashing on the screen.

Rosé sighed, but instead of answering the call, she silenced it with a determined glint in her eyes, Rosé mumbled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Y/n's ear. "Work can wait a little longer. Right now, all I want is you."

Y/n, still basking in the afterglow, smiled warmly. Her possessiveness, while initially surprising, had come to be a source of comfort. It was a stark contrast to the carefully curated image she projected on stage, reminding him of the passionate woman beneath the glitter and choreography.

He nuzzled closer, tracing patterns on her bare shoulder. "Are you sure? We can call your manager and explain—"

Rosé cut him off with a playful nip at his earlobe. "Explain what? That the world-famous Rosé needs a few extra hours of sleep… with her boyfriend?"

He chuckled, unable to resist her playful teasing. "They might find that hard to believe."

She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. "Then let them believe what they want. As long as you know the truth."

Her gaze softened, and a genuine smile played on her lips. They spent the next few hours in a blissful state of lazy intimacy. They talked of anything and everything – the challenges of their careers, their hopes for the future, and the simple joy of just being together.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the silence between them took on a different meaning, one filled with a comfortable understanding. Rosé, usually bursting with energy, surprised Y/n with her newfound calmness. He relished this side of her, a glimpse into the woman who existed outside the pressures of fame.

Finally, a rumble from his stomach broke the comfortable silence. Rosé giggled at his blush. "Hungry already, Mr. Stamina?" she teased.

He sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. "Busan air must be hungrier than usual."

Rosé winked playfully. "Then let's appease that hungry beast. Room service it is."

They enjoyed a leisurely breakfast on the balcony overlooking the Han River, the cityscape shimmering under the morning sun. Rosé, rejuvenated and energized, became her usual bubbly self. Her phone remained silent, a testament to her defiance against her demanding schedule.

As much as Y/n cherished these stolen moments, he knew reality soon awaited. He gently mentioned needing to return to Seoul.

Rosé's playful demeanor flickered for a moment, a flicker of sadness crossing her features. But she quickly masked it with a determined smile.

"Alright, hero. Save the day and all that," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of forced cheer.

He squeezed her hand. "This isn't goodbye. We'll find another way."

She nodded, a silent promise hanging between them. As he stood by the door, she pulled him in for a lingering kiss.

"Remember, Y/n," she whispered against his lips, her eyes filled with a yearning that mirrored his own. "No matter how crazy things get, you're my silent language."

Y/n left the hotel room, carrying not just the memory of stolen passion but also the sweet knowledge that their love story, like a melody waiting to be performed, was just beginning.

#rosé smut #rosé blackpink #rosé icons #rosé #rosé bp #blackpink #blackpink rosé #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #sexy content #apreciation post #kpop smut #vanilla sex #slight #dom #girlfriend #boyfriend

[elryuse]

WANT YOU BACK

WINTER X MALE READER

Tags : Possessive EX GF Winter, Pregnancy, Cheating, Teasing, Creampie, Quickie

Winter choked back a sob, the smoky jazz club blurring into a canvas of swirling lights and pounding bass. Across the crowded dance floor, Y/n's laughter echoed, a sound that once brought sunshine into her days and now felt like a cruel taunt. He was happy. Genuinely, radiantly happy with his new girlfriend, Karina – a vision of effortless beauty draped on his arm.

Regret gnawed at Winter's insides, a ravenous beast that had been growing stronger with every passing day. A year ago, Y/n had been her world. The kindest, most patient boyfriend a girl could ask for. But Winter, fueled by a twisted yearning for excitement and the allure of a "bad boy" fantasy, had thrown it all away. Now, the sight of his happiness with someone else ignited a firestorm of jealousy and a terrifying realization: what if she'd lost him forever?

Panic clawed at her. She couldn't lose Y/n. Not entirely. A twisted plan, fueled by possessiveness and a warped sense of entitlement, began to take shape in her mind. She would get him back, even if it meant manipulation and control.

Excusing herself from her date, Winter weaved through the throng of dancing bodies, her eyes fixated on Y/n. As she approached, she noticed a flicker of surprise followed by a cautious warmth in his eyes.

"Winter??" he greeted, his voice laced with a hint of apprehension. Karina, sensing the tension, shot her a withering look.

"C-can I talk for a minute… alone?" Winter purred, her voice dripping with forced vulnerability.

Y/n hesitated, his gaze flitting between Winter and Karina. Karina rolled her eyes and reluctantly excused herself. Winter led Y/n to a secluded corner, excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

"I-i shouldn't have done what I did Y/n, " she began, her voice trembling slightly. A performance worthy of an Oscar. "You were the best thing that ever happened to my life, A-and I threw it all away."

Y/n, ever the believer in second chances, looked at her with a mixture of empathy and residual hurt. "W-winter," he started, his voice gentle. "Karina and I—"

"I know," she cut him off, tears welling up in her eyes. "But maybe… just maybe.." she trailed off, letting the unspoken suggestion hang heavy in the air.

Y/n sighed, torn between his loyalty to Karina and his lingering emotions for Winter. "Winter, we can't just—"

Winter leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper. "Just one night, Y/n. Let me show you what I've been missing. What you've been missing."

Her words, laced with a desperate yearning, struck a chord in Y/n. Memories flooded back - stolen kisses, whispered secrets, the warmth of her hand in his. He couldn't deny the lingering feelings, the pull of a familiarity that resonated deep within him.

In the dimly lit corner, away from the prying eyes of the club, they fell into each other's arms. The kiss ignited a spark within them, a wildfire fueled by pent-up emotions and unspoken desires. It was a desperate kiss, raw and hungry, like two drowning souls clinging to a lifeline. "I knew you wanted it..". Winter whispers, Her voice desperate of affection.

Winter's touch was a stark contrast to the carefree affection Karina so readily bestowed upon Y/n. Her fingers dug into his back, a possessive hold that sent shivers down his spine. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as their lips met in a frenzied dance. "Fuck Me Y/n.. Fuck me..". Winter begged, as she began to undress.

"W-winter s-slow down". The air crackled with electricity. Winter's eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, flickered with a possessiveness that made Y/n's breath hitch. There was a hunger in her gaze, a desperate need for control that sent a shiver down his spine. This wasn't the sweet affection they once shared; it was a darkness that both terrified and enticed him. "Cum... Cum inside me... Stay with me like this.. Please..". Winter begged, as finally Y/n released strings of his cum deep inside her womb.

As they stumbled back, breathless and flushed, a sense of foreboding settled over Y/n. There was a possessiveness in Winter's behavior that hadn't been there before. He knew this stolen night was no reconciliation, but a twisted game he was being drawn into against his better judgment.

Winter's eyes gleamed with a predatory glint. "This feels like coming home," she whispered, her voice husky with desire before she kissed him once again.

But in the pit of Y/n's stomach, a chilling premonition bloomed. He wasn't sure he was coming home, but rather entering a dark labyrinth, lured back by a love that had turned possessive and manipulative.

Winter cradled the positive pregnancy test in her hand, her emotions a tangled mess. Relief warred with a horrifying sense of manipulation. This wasn't the happy reunion she'd envisioned. This was a twisted trap sprung on Y/n.

The stolen night in the club had been fuelled by desperation, not love. It had served its purpose, though. Winter had him back, tethered to her by an invisible chain: the baby growing within her.

The next morning, she played the heartbroken victim. Tears streamed down her face as she confessed to Y/n about the test. "We can't pretend this didn't happen," she cried, knowing full well he wouldn't abandon a child.

Y/n, ever the good guy, fell into the trap. He felt responsible, obligated. But every visit to Winter's apartment felt like a descent into a suffocating prison. Her possessiveness escalated with each passing day.

"You can't see Karina anymore," Winter declared one evening, her voice laced with a chilling finality. Y/n protested, reminding her of Karina's innocence in all this. "This is between us, Y/n," Winter hissed, a manic glint in her eyes. "You're mine now."

He tried to explain the situation to Karina, but guilt choked his words. In the end, the confused silence and strained distance became too much for her to bear. She broke up with him, heartbroken and bewildered.

Winter celebrated this "victory" with a chilling smile. Y/n was now truly hers, isolated and trapped. She used the pregnancy as a weapon, a constant reminder of his supposed transgression. "Every scan, every milestone," she'd say, her voice dripping with faux sweetness, "a reminder of what we had."

Yet, with each passing week, the facade of happiness wore thin. Winter felt a growing resentment towards the child, a constant reminder of her deceit. But most of all, she resented Y/n. His forced presence, his hollow attempts at conversation, only amplified the emptiness within her.

One night, as Y/n sat awkwardly on the couch, Winter launched into a tirade. "You don't love me! You never did!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face. "Y-you just feel sorry for me!"

Y/n, worn down by the constant emotional abuse, snapped. "I do care about you, Winter," he said, his voice tired. "But I can't love someone who holds me hostage with threats and guilt."

His words hung in the air, heavy and final. Winter recoiled, a flicker of fear replacing the anger in her eyes. She might have trapped him physically, but emotionally, she'd pushed him to the edge.

The flicker of fear in Winter's eyes was fleeting, replaced by a cold glint that sent shivers down Y/n's spine. He'd seen that look before, in the dimly lit corner of the club – the predator assessing its prey.

"Hostage?" she scoffed, her voice dripping with a terrifying calmness. "I gave you a chance, Y/n. A chance to be a family. Maybe you don't love me, but you'll learn."

Her next words were a chilling whisper. "Besides, where would you go? Do you really think Karina would take you back after this?"

Y/n's stomach churned. She was right. Shame choked him, muting any further protest. Winter sensed his resignation and a victorious smile curled her lips. This was where the game truly began.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of doctor's appointments, baby preparations, and a suffocating sense of control. Winter micromanaged everything, making Y/n feel like a visitor in his own life. His attempts at connecting with the child felt staged, a constant performance under Winter's watchful eye.

Yet, a strange sense of normalcy settled in. Winter stopped mentioning Karina entirely, reveling in the fact that Y/n was trapped. Slowly, she started subtly chipping away at his support system. A "forgotten" work call from Y/n that turned into a week-long business trip. A "sudden illness" that kept his friends from visiting.

Y/n, worn down by the constant emotional manipulation and guilt trips, barely noticed the isolation. He became a ghost in his own life, existing only to fulfill his "duties" as a father and a reluctant partner.

Years passed. Winter birthed two more children, each arrival a twisted celebration of her victory. Y/n remained a shell of his former self, a ghost trapped in a gilded cage of her own making. Winter, however, thrived. Her possessiveness had morphed into a twisted sense of ownership. Y/n belonged to her now, a trophy on her emotional shelf.

One cold evening, as the older children played in the living room, Winter snuggled close to Y/n on the couch. "See?" she purred, her voice laced with satisfaction. "We have a family now. Just like what you always wanted."

Y/n's eyes, devoid of their former warmth, met hers. There was no love in them, no regret, no longing. The years of manipulation had hollowed him out. He was simply a shadow, a reminder of the love she'd destroyed and the life they could have had.

A cold smile settled on Winter's face. In her twisted mind, this was their happy ending. Her ultimate victory. She had Y/n, and that was all that mattered. The love she'd craved, the genuine connection, was a forgotten casualty in her war for control. Winter had built her prison, bricked with manipulation and guilt, and in the process, had become as trapped as the man she held captive.

#aespa winter #winter #kim minjeong #minjeong x reader #aespa minjeong #possessive #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #sexy content #yandere #update #kpop smut #aespa smut #winter smut #apreciation post

[elryuse]

EX (G)-IRLFRIEND

SOOJIN X MALE READER

Tags : EX GF Soojin, A bit of Angst, Happy Ending, Some Smut?

The familiar jingle of (G)I-DLE's "LATATA" pulled Y/n's head from his laptop screen. It wasn't the song itself that startled him, but the woman standing at the coffee shop door, a sheepish grin plastered on her face. It was Soojin.

Memories flooded back, bittersweet and potent - late-night talks after rehearsals, shared secrets whispered under the covers, the warmth of her hand in his. Soojin, the sunshine to his brooding storms, the one who understood his quiet moments as well as his bursts of laughter. It had all ended so abruptly, ripped apart by accusations and scandal. Soojin, the girl he knew to be the softest soul, was branded a bully by the media.

He refused to believe it. He tried reaching out, offering support, but she'd pushed him away, a fortress of hurt and betrayal. In the end, the strain became too much, the silence deafening. They had to call it quits, the weight of the unresolved mess hanging heavy between them.

Soojin navigated the crowded café, her once fiery red hair now a calming dark brown. Her eyes held a vulnerability he hadn't seen before, a stark contrast to the fearless idol he once knew.

"Y/n?" she tentatively asked, her voice husky with nervousness.

He stood up, caught between a flood of emotions. "S-soojin."

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken questions and buried feelings. Soojin took a hesitant step forward, closing the distance. "I know this is sudden, but...can we talk?"

He couldn't say no. He ushered her to an empty table, his heart hammering a chaotic rhythm against his ribs.

"This feels surreal," she confessed, fiddling with a stray strand of hair. "Seeing you again after all this time…"

"It does," he agreed, his voice raspy. "What... what brings you here?"

Soojin took a deep breath, her gaze flickering away for a moment. "Everything you heard… about me… it was a lie."

The words hit him like a physical blow. Years of suppressed doubt and anger flared up. "A lie?"

"A carefully orchestrated one," she continued, her voice gaining strength. "The company, the girls… they fabricated the whole bullying story."

His mind reeled. All this time, the person he knew was the victim?

"W-why?" he whispered, anger bubbling beneath the surface.

"They wanted a scapegoat," Soojin explained, her eyes brimming with hurt. "Someone to take the fall for their mismanagement. They promised they'd back me up, but…" she trailed off, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.

He wanted to believe her. The Soojin he knew wouldn't bully anyone. But after years of hurt, a part of him needed more. "How can I know you're telling the truth?"

Her eyes welled up. "Because the only person I told the truth to was you." She reached across the table, her hand trembling slightly as it hovered over his. "Y/n, please. Believe me."

The touch, a ghost of their past, sent a jolt through him. Looking into her tear-filled eyes, a familiar ache bloomed in his chest. Doubt still lingered, but so did a flicker of the old trust.

He sighed, squeezing her hand gently. "Alright, Soojin. Tell me everything."

For the next hour, Soojin poured out her story. The manipulation by the company, the betrayal by her supposed friends, the public humiliation – it was a narrative of shattered dreams and broken trust. Y/n listened intently, anger building in his gut alongside a deep empathy.

As she spoke, the room seemed to fade away. It was just the two of them, their past resurfacing like a forgotten melody. The café's bustling sounds muted, replaced by the tremor in her voice and the raw honesty in her eyes.

When she finished, a heavy silence settled between them. The weight of the years, the unspoken words, all hung in the air. Soojin looked down at their intertwined hands, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks.

"I miss you, Y/n," she confessed in a soft voice.

His heart lurched. Did she mean it? All these years, had she felt the same way?

Before he could respond, she leaned forward, her lips meeting his in a hesitant kiss. It was a touch of apology and yearning, a plea for a connection that wasn't severed. Hesitation lingered in Y/n, but the nostalgia in her touch, the familiar warmth of her kiss, proved too much to resist.

He deepened the kiss, his hand finding its way to her hair, the dark strands smooth against his touch. It was a desperate kiss, fueled by years of yearning and a newfound understanding. The kiss burned with an intensity that surprised them both. Years of pent-up emotions, hurt, and longing exploded in that single touch. Soojin pulled away first, breathless and cheeks flushed.

"Y/n," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I know this is crazy after all this time…"

"No," he murmured, his own voice thick with desire. "It doesn't feel crazy."

There, in the dimly lit café, surrounded by the aroma of brewing coffee and bustling patrons, their past and present collided. Soojin's hand snaked up his arm, sending shivers down his spine.

"Can we go somewhere... more private?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He barely needed to think. Without a word, he paid for their lukewarm coffees, ignoring the cashier's curious stare. As they stepped out into the cool evening air, Soojin slipped her hand into his, a tentative gesture that spoke volumes.

They didn't speak, not initially. They walked hand-in-hand, the silence a comfortable shroud around their rekindled connection. Soojin led him to a secluded alleyway, its entrance masked by overflowing vines.

The dim moonlight filtered through, casting long shadows on the brick walls. In this hidden space, Soojin turned to him, her eyes searching his face.

"I know…" she started, her voice husky. "This might be a mistake, but I…"

He silenced her with a finger to her lips, his touch sending a jolt through her. "I get it," he said, his gaze locked on hers. "We can take things slow. But…"

He trailed off, leaning closer. The scent of her familiar perfume, a mix of lavender and vanilla, filled his senses. "Right now," he whispered, his voice husky, "all I can think about is holding you again."

With that, he pulled her into a tight embrace. Relief, desire, and a bittersweet nostalgia swirled within him as he held her close. Soojin melted into his arms, clinging to him like a lifeline.

The kiss this time was different. It was fierce, filled with a raw hunger that spoke of years of unspoken feelings. Their hands explored each other's bodies with a desperate need, reacquainting themselves with the familiar curves and textures.

Soojin reached for the buttons on his shirt, her touch sending shivers down his spine. Unbidden, memories of their passionate nights flooded back – stolen moments in her dorm room, late-night adventures, and the feeling of belonging he'd felt wrapped in her arms.

He helped her out of her light jacket, his fingertips lingering on her exposed skin. As she unbuttoned his shirt, the air crackled with unspoken desires. They stumbled backward, landing against the rough brick wall.

Her touch was like a wildfire on his skin. She explored his chest, her whispers sending shivers down his spine. It was a desperate dance, a frantic rediscovery of a connection they both thought lost.

The alleyway became their sanctuary, a space where time seemed to stand still. They explored each other with an urgency born from years of separation, each touch a whisper of the past and a promise of a future they weren't sure existed.

As dawn painted the cityscape a pale pink, they lay breathless in each other's arms, the warmth of their bodies a stark contrast to the cool night air. Soojin nuzzled closer, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

"This feels like coming home," she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.

Y/n held her tighter, the weight of the unresolved past momentarily forgotten. He didn't know what the future held, whether this was just a fleeting moment of comfort or the spark of something more. But in the quiet embrace of the new day, all he knew was that he wanted to hold onto this newfound connection, even if it was only temporary.

#soojin #gidle soojin #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #sexy content #apreciation post #update #kpop smut #angst #happy ending #kpop fluff #cuddles

[elryuse]

OUR NIGHT IN PARIS

TWICE MINA X MALE READER

Tags : Cold Mina, Younger Male Manager Reader, Fendi Fashion Week, Night In Paris

The Parisian air vibrated with a frenetic energy – a whirlwind of posh accents, clicking cameras, and the constant buzz of anticipation. Y/n, perpetually juggling his camera bag and a clipboard overflowing with Mina's schedule, weaved through the throngs of people at the airport. A few paces ahead walked Mina, the Kpop idol he managed. Her face, as always, was an unreadable mask – a carefully cultivated persona of the aloof ice queen.

"Mina!" Y/n called out, his voice barely audible over the din. "Don't forget your sunglasses! The paparazzi will be brutal."

Mina turned, a flicker of something akin to annoyance crossing her porcelain features. "I know," she said, her voice clipped and emotionless. It was a familiar exchange, this dance they'd perfected over the years. Y/n, the ever-organized and cheerful manager, and Mina, the stoic and fiercely independent star.

Yet, sometimes, when their eyes met in fleeting moments, Y/n swore he saw a spark – a hint of warmth that contradicted her icy exterior. He knew the pressures she faced – the relentless schedules, the constant scrutiny, the never-ending need to be perfect. It weighed heavily on her, a burden she rarely spoke of.

They arrived at their luxurious hotel suite overlooking the Seine. Y/n busied himself unpacking Mina's designer clothes while she retreated to the bathroom. From behind the closed door, a soft sigh reached his ears.

"Y/n," she called out, her voice softer than he was used to. "Can you come here for a moment, please?"

He approached the bathroom cautiously, a knot of apprehension forming in his stomach. Mina stood by the sink, her face bare of makeup, showcasing the vulnerability etched around her eyes. There was a raw desperation in her gaze that sent a jolt through him.

"Mina, is everything alright?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

She took a deep breath, her perfect facade crumbling around the edges. "No, Y/n," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "Everything is… not alright. At least, not the way it should be."

Y/n's heart hammered against his ribs. He'd never seen her like this, so vulnerable, so… real. "What's wrong, Mina? You can tell me," he urged, his voice gentle.

She reached out, her hand trembling slightly as it grasped his. The warmth of her touch sent a shiver down his spine. "Y/n," she began, her voice barely above a breath. "You… you have no idea how much I…"

Her words trailed off, replaced by a frustrated growl. Y/n, emboldened by her vulnerability, decided to take a chance. "Mina," he said softly. "You can tell me anything."

She met his gaze, her eyes blazing with an intensity that left him breathless. "I want you, Y/n," she confessed, her voice husky with suppressed desire. "I've wanted you for months, maybe even years."

Y/n's breath hitched. This was a revelation, a secret confession that shattered the carefully constructed image of the cold, unapproachable star. "Mina… I…" he stammered, unsure of how to respond.

Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. "Don't you get it? This whole facade, it's killing me! I can't pretend anymore. I want to be with you, Y/n. Not as your manager, but as…" Her voice trailed off, a blush creeping up her neck.

Y/n understood. As manager, he was expected to maintain a professional distance. But the truth was, he had harbored a secret crush on Mina for a long time, his feelings masked by his cheerful demeanor.

"Mina," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I… I feel the same way. But… this can't happen. What about your career? What about the fans?"

She scoffed, a hint of her fiery personality returning. "The fans? They don't know the real me. They only see the carefully packaged idol they want to see." Her gaze softened. "But you, Y/n, you see me. All of me. The good, the bad, the scared little girl beneath the glitter and the costumes."

He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that escaped. "And I love everything I see," he confessed, his voice a husky murmur.

A hungry glint ignited in Mina's eyes. Before he could react, she grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the plush bed in the center of the room. With a swift movement, she tossed him onto the soft sheets, her body following in a flurry of silk and lace. Y/n landed with a soft gasp, his heart pounding against his ribs in a chaotic rhythm. Mina straddled him, her weight a delicious pressure on his lower body.

"Don't worry about the outside world, Y/n," she whispered, her voice husky with desire. "Tonight, it's just you and me."

Her eyes, usually cool and distant, were now ablaze with an inferno, reflecting the fire that burned bright within him. He reached out, hesitantly at first, tracing the delicate curve of her cheekbone with his thumb. Her breath hitched, and she leaned into his touch, a silent plea for him to take control.

"Mina," he breathed, his voice thick with a mixture of fear and desire. "Are you sure about this?"

A smile, genuine and breathtaking, curved her lips. "Never been more sure in my life."

With newfound confidence, Y/n cupped her face and tilted it towards his. The space between their lips dwindled, the air thick with anticipation. When their lips finally met, it was an explosion of pent-up emotions. The kiss was desperate and hungry, a clash of tongues and heated breaths that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

He explored her mouth with a reverence that surprised even himself, his fingers trailing down her back, sending shivers down her spine. Her response was immediate – a low moan escaping her lips as she arched into his touch. Her hands, usually adorned with expensive rings, dug into his shirt, pulling him closer, anchoring him to her.

The silk of her dress, a delicate shade of lavender, became an obstacle, a barrier he needed to overcome. His fingers fumbled with the zipper, a silent struggle that only heightened their anticipation. With a soft sigh of relief, the dress fell away, revealing a glimpse of her flawless skin beneath.

Mina gasped, a mixture of surprise and delight at his sudden boldness. But her surprise was quickly replaced by a fierce possessiveness. Her hands roamed his body, tracing the contours of his chest, lingering on the toned muscles of his arms.

"Y/n," she breathed, her voice laced with a newfound vulnerability.

He responded by peppering kisses down her neck, his lips trailing down to the soft skin of her collarbone. Her whimpers of delight fueled the fire burning within him. He trailed his kisses further, his hands reaching the hem of her black lace lingerie, sending a jolt of electricity through him as his fingers grazed the smooth skin of her stomach.

A gasp escaped her lips as he unhooked the delicate clasp, the wispy fabric falling away like a discarded dream. He paused, his gaze locked on her beautiful body, a masterpiece revealed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Mina met his gaze, her eyes filled with a mixture of desire and a hint of shyness that sent a wave of protectiveness through him.

"Y-you're beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

The compliment, simple as it was, seemed to break the last dam holding back her desires. "Take me, Y/n," she breathed, her voice rough with passion. "Take everything I have to offer."

He no longer hesitated. With a surge of possessiveness that surprised even him, he cupped her face and deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the sweet recesses of her mouth with a newfound urgency. He explored her body further, his touch sending shivers down her spine as he traced every curve and dip.

Mina responded with a fervor that surprised him. The ice queen facade was completely gone, replaced by a woman consumed by raw desire. Her moans and gasps filled the room, a symphony of passion that echoed in his ears long after.

The night unfolded in a whirlwind of tangled limbs and stolen kisses. They explored each other's bodies with a newfound urgency, their inhibitions melting away with each touch. Y/n, usually shy and reserved, found himself taking control, his voice husky with desire as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

Mina, the dominant one in most aspects of their lives, reveled in his newfound boldness. She surrendered to his touch, her body responding to his every command with a fervor that left him breathless. As the night wore on, the initial urgency gave way to a deeper connection. Their movements became more synchronized, a wordless communication guided by instinct and an overwhelming need for each other.

As dawn painted streaks of pink across the Parisian sky, they lay entangled in the sheets, their breaths ragged and their bodies flushed with the afterglow. The silence was comfortable, a shared secret language only they understood.

"Mina," Y/n whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "W-We can't keep doing this," he finished, his voice laced with a mix of exhilaration and trepidation. The weight of reality settled over them like a cool autumn breeze after a scorching summer day.

Mina, nestled in the crook of his arm, let out a soft sigh. "I know," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes, though still shimmering with the afterglow of their night, held a hint of worry.

The fashion week, the meticulously planned schedule, the constant scrutiny of the media – it all seemed distant and irrelevant at the moment. But they knew it wouldn't stay that way.

Y/n brushed a stray strand of hair from Mina's face. "What about the fans?" he asked, his voice barely above a murmur.

She bit her lip, a flicker of defiance crossing her beautiful features. "The fans love authenticity, Y/n. Maybe, just maybe, by showing a more human side, I can connect with them on a deeper level."

The idea resonated with him. He had witnessed firsthand the pressure Mina faced to maintain an unrealistic image. Maybe, just maybe, this could be a chance for her to finally be herself.

"But what about the company?" he continued, worry creasing his brow. "They wouldn't be happy, to say the least."

Mina, ever the strategist, offered a solution. "We can keep it a secret, at least for now. But we need a plan, a way for us to be together openly sometime in the future."

Y/n's mind raced. He knew the challenges they faced were immense, but the memory of their night, the raw connection they shared, fueled his determination.

"We'll figure it out," he said, his voice filled with newfound confidence. He squeezed her hand gently. "But for now, let's just enjoy this moment."

The following days in Paris were a whirlwind of stolen glances, secret touches, and late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours. They explored the city together, hand-in-hand under the cloak of anonymity, sharing experiences they could never have had back in Seoul.

The pressure of the industry seemed to melt away in each other's presence. Mina's smile became genuine, her laughter unrestrained. Y/n, witnessing this transformation, felt a surge of protectiveness towards her. He understood now the burden she carried, the weight of expectation on her young shoulders.

One evening, as they stood on the Pont Alexandre III overlooking the Seine, a sense of calm settled over them. The city lights twinkled in the water, casting a magical glow on their faces. Mina turned to Y/n, her eyes sparkling with newfound confidence.

"Thank you, Y/n," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for seeing me, for believing in me."

He cupped her face in his hands, his gaze filled with tenderness. "It was always you, Mina. The idol, the performer, all that… It's amazing, but it's just a part of you. The real you, the one I see now, that's the one I fell in love with."

Their lips met in a kiss, a silent promise under the Parisian sky. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but they knew they would face it together, their love story a secret symphony playing in the heart of the City of Lights.

Back in Seoul, the carefully constructed facade resumed, but something had fundamentally changed. Their stolen moments, the shared secret buried deep within them, fueled their love and determination. Y/n, emboldened by their experience, started subtly advocating for Mina to show more vulnerability in her public persona. Their collaboration resulted in a poignant ballad that spoke of inner strength and overcoming societal pressures. The song resonated deeply with fans, establishing a new level of connection between Mina and her audience.

Months later, fueled by public support and Mina's increasing popularity, they decided to take a leap of faith. In a daring move, Y/n announced his resignation as Mina's manager, citing artistic differences. The news sent shockwaves through the industry, but their carefully crafted public statement, hinting at a desire to pursue creative independence, softened the blow.

A few weeks later, another bombshell dropped. Mina released a new vlog titled "My Story." In the video, she shed the idol mask, baring her struggles and aspirations, and finally acknowledging her love for Y/n. The internet exploded, but the overwhelmingly positive response from fans surprised everyone.

Their love story, a testament to authenticity and courage, resonated with millions. It sparked conversations about mental health in the industry and challenged unrealistic expectations placed on idols.

Though not without its challenges, Mina and Y/n built a new career together. They formed their own agency, one that Though not without its challenges, Mina and Y/n built a new career together. They formed their own agency, one that prioritized artist well-being and embraced vulnerability. Their path wasn't easy – there were lost endorsements, disgruntled executives, and the constant scrutiny of the media.

But they weathered it all, their love story a shield against the storm. Mina thrived creatively, her music exploring uncharted territory of raw emotions and social commentary. Y/n, his passion reignited, became her creative partner, co-writing and directing her music videos.

One rainy night in their shared apartment in Seoul, they reminisced about their Parisian escape. The city lights twinkling outside the window mirrored the sparks in their eyes.

"Remember that first night?" Mina asked, her voice laced with a playful smile as she snuggled closer on the couch.

Y/n chuckled, a warmth spreading through him at the memory. "How could I forget? You broke the ice queen act with a bang."

Her playful smile faltered slightly. "I was scared, Y/n. Scared of losing everything I had built."

He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "But you gained something far more valuable – freedom, and love."

Her eyes locked with his, a familiar heat rising in their chests. The rain outside became a white noise as their gazes held a conversation that needed no words. In a silent agreement, they moved in unison.

Y/n carried her to the bedroom, the familiarity of their bodies a comforting reminder of their journey. The clothes came off in a flurry, their skin meeting with a delicious warmth. This time, the urgency was replaced by a tenderness that spoke volumes. They explored each other with a newfound appreciation, their touches laced with love and respect.

Mina, no longer the domineering force of their first encounter, surrendered to his touch. Her moans were soft, laced with a hint of vulnerability that sent shivers down his spine. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, each word a promise of forever.

As dawn painted the cityscape a soft orange, they lay entwined, their breaths synchronized in a peaceful rhythm. The rain had stopped, leaving the world washed clean and fresh.

Y/n brushed a kiss to her forehead. "We did it, Mina," he whispered.

A sleepy smile graced her lips. "We did, Y/n. We did."

In the quiet intimacy of their love nest, they knew their journey had just begun. The city outside might have been Seoul, but in their shared world, Paris, with all its stolen moments and whispered promises, would forever hold a special place – a testament to their love story, a love that dared to break the mold and embrace the beauty of imperfection.

#myoi mina #twice mina #mina #twice smut #mina smut #smut #sexy content #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #apreciation post #update #kpop smut #kisses #paris

[elryuse]

May I request Yandere Neighbour Song Hayoung x Male reader? Hayoung is really obsess with the male reader to the point that she stalks you everyday.

Hello Neighbor.

YANDERE HAYOUNG X MALE READER

Hayoung pressed her forehead against the cool glass, the expensive telescope amplifying the image across the street into a disturbingly intimate scene. Y/n, his dark hair backlit by the warm glow of his apartment light, sat across from a girl with cascading, dark curls. Hayoung's stomach churned, a cocktail of possessiveness and primal jealousy bubbling up inside her.

It had all started with such innocent curiosity. The first time Hayoung saw Y/n, he was unpacking boxes on his porch, a shy smile gracing his lips as he met her gaze. Over the past few weeks, Hayoung had become his silent shadow. Nights were spent crouched under the bushes outside his window, a camera her constant companion. A sleeping Y/n, a discarded coffee mug, anything that held a trace of him – these were her trophies. She even left him anonymous love notes, filled with saccharine poems and pressed wildflowers, signed simply "Your Secret Admirer."

But tonight, the sight of him laughing with another woman filled Hayoung with a murderous rage that sent chills down her own spine. "Who is she?" Hayoung hissed, the words barely audible above the frantic rasp of her breath. She zoomed in on the girl, her features hardening with each detail. Long, dark hair, a bright smile – everything Hayoung wasn't. A low growl escaped Hayoung's throat, a sound more animal than human.

The girl leaned in, whispering something in Y/n's ear, making him laugh again. Hayoung's vision blurred with a mix of fury and a horrifying sense of longing. He should be laughing with her, Hayoung. She was the one who knew his coffee order, who left him those notes expressing her undying love. Determined, Hayoung grabbed her laptop, the familiar hum a soothing counterpoint to the storm raging inside her.

Days blurred into nights as Hayoung scoured social media, her obsession morphing into a terrifying fixation. The girl's name was Mina, a bubbly aspiring photographer with a penchant for capturing sunsets and stray cats. Hayoung learned her favorite band, the cafe she frequented after work, even the name of her childhood teddy bear – Mr. Snuggles. Information was power, and power was what Hayoung craved.

The apartment transformed into a shrine of warped devotion. Walls were plastered with newspaper clippings detailing Mina's life, maps with routes highlighted in red pen, and a crowbar glinting ominously in the corner. The stench of bleach and desperation hung heavy in the air. The night Hayoung put her plan into action, the moon cast a sickly glow on the deserted street. Mina, humming a cheerful tune, walked home alone after her late shift at the cafe. Hayoung emerged from the alleyway, a dark wraith materializing from the shadows.

The scream, sharp and sudden, echoed through the night before being abruptly cut short. Hayoung stood over Mina's crumpled form, a sickening sense of triumph warring with a coldness that seeped into her bones. Her hands shook as she dragged the body away, the metallic tang of blood heavy in the air.

Back in her apartment, showered and clad in fresh clothes, Hayoung collapsed onto the floor. Tears mingled with the faint traces of blood staining her clothes. A horrifying realization washed over her. The thrill of the kill was a fleeting ember, quickly replaced by a hollow emptiness. She had eliminated the competition, but at what cost?

Silence blanketed the street now, broken only by the rasp of her ragged breaths. In the distance, a police siren wailed, a sound that sent a fresh jolt of fear through her. But Hayoung barely flinched. Her gaze drifted towards the window, drawn to the familiar glow emanating from Y/n's apartment.

He was alone. Relief and a twisted form of satisfaction washed over her. Hayoung grabbed her telescope, a chilling smile playing on her lips. He was hers now. And she, his devoted, if eternally creepy, neighbor, would be watching, always watching. She imagined his relief at finding Mina gone, a relief that would soon curdle into suspicion as he received anonymous notes signed with a single word: "Alone."

The next few days became a maddening game of cat and mouse. Y/n started leaving his lights on all night, his curtains permanently drawn. Hayoung left cryptic messages on his doorstep – a single red rose, a shard of broken glass. She even started playing haunting melodies on a rusty music box at precisely 3 am, mimicking the lullaby she saw Mina play on her guitar once. Sleep became a luxury Hayoung could no longer afford, replaced by a constant vigil.

One afternoon, while peering through her telescope, Hayoung noticed a change in Y/n. His smile was gone, replaced by deep shadows under his eyes. A sense of morbid satisfaction bloomed within her, a twisted sense of victory. But as she continued to watch, a new horror dawned on her. Y/n wasn't alone. He sat across from a woman, but not Mina. This woman was older, her face etched with worry lines. Her voice, low and strained, carried on the wind.

"Y/n, honey, you need to tell the police! This can't go on!"

His voice, hoarse and barely audible, drifted across the street. "But who would believe me, Mom? The police already dismissed it as a runaway case. What proof do I have?"

Hayoung's blood ran cold. This woman was Y/n's mother. The realization hit her like a physical blow. In her twisted obsession, she hadn't considered the collateral damage. The pain she inflicted on him wasn't just his loss of Mina, but the gnawing fear for her disappearance.

A fresh wave of paranoia washed over Hayoung. If Y/n confided in his mother, the police might get involved. They might find the crowbar, the bloodstained clothes Hayoung had shoved deep into a hidden compartment in her closet. Panic clawed at her throat. She had to stop him.

The following night, under the cloak of darkness, Hayoung found herself lurking outside Y/n's apartment building again. This time, however, she wasn't there for Mina. She was there for his mother.

Hayoung slipped a note under the door, her carefully disguised handwriting scrawled across the page: "Don't believe him. He's dangerous. Stay away."

A twisted sense of satisfaction filled her. This would plant a seed of doubt, keeping Y/n further isolated. He wouldn't dare tell his mother about the strange notes, fearing she'd think him delusional.

The next day, Hayoung watched from across the street, a sickening thrill coursing through her veins as Y/n's mother left his apartment in a flurry, fear etched on her face. Y/n stood at the window, his silhouette a stark contrast to the bright sunlight streaming in. He looked defeated, a flicker of recognition crossing his features as his gaze swept across the empty street.

The game continued, a macabre dance of manipulation and fear. Hayoung left cryptic messages for Y/n too, playing on his growing paranoia. A single red rose with a single thorn pricked through the center left on his doorstep. A dead sparrow, its neck snapped, tucked into his mailbox.

One particularly stormy night, Hayoung upped the ante. Power flickered across the neighborhood, plunging the street into an inky blackness. As the first flicker of lightning illuminated Y/n's apartment, Hayoung pressed her face against the window, a wicked grin plastered across her face.

There, hanging from the ceiling fan, was a grotesque marionette, its porcelain face a crude mockery of Mina's smile. Its vacant eyes seemed to stare directly at Y/n, a silent accusation.

A bloodcurdling scream pierced the night, a sound that sent shivers down Hayoung's spine despite the twisted pleasure that bubbled up inside her. She had finally broken him.

But as the days turned into weeks, a chilling realization dawned on Hayoung. The thrill of the chase was gone, replaced by a suffocating sense of emptiness. Y/n remained a prisoner, yes, but so was she – a prisoner of her own twisted obsession. His constant fear, his vacant eyes staring out the window – it mirrored the hollowness that had consumed her.

One morning, Hayoung woke to a deafening silence. No flickering lights from Y/n's apartment, no sign of him leaving for work. Panic seized her. Had he finally confessed? Had the police arrived?

Unable to bear the suspense any longer, Hayoung raced across the street, her heart hammering against her ribs. She pounded on his door, the silence stretching into an eternity. Finally, a weak voice rasped from inside.

"Go… away."

Hayoung's world tilted on its axis. The fear, the isolation – it had broken him. He no longer cared, no longer lived. Her twisted victory tasted like ashes on her tongue.

Tears blurring her vision, Hayoung stumbled back, her gaze falling on the single red rose she'd left on his doorstep days ago. It lay wilted and forgotten, a stark symbol of her own decaying love.

Hayoung turned and walked away, leaving behind the scene of her twisted obsession. She knew there was no escape from the horrors she'd inflicted, but maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for redemption on the other side of her journey, a journey far, far away from the man she'd loved and destroyed in equal measure

#hayoung #oh hayoung #hayoung fromis 9 #fromis 9 #fromis 9 hayoung #yandere roleplay #yandere blog #yandere stories #yandere #kpop yandere #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #update #apreciation post #icons

[elryuse]

pls make a yandere rei fic, from a sports setting

Injured.

YANDERE REI X MALE READER

The ache in Rei's knee was a constant phantom throb, a cruel echo of the roar of the crowd that once cheered her name. Her once-pristine apartment mirrored the emptiness within her. Gone were the trophies, the motivational posters, replaced by a suffocating silence broken only by the relentless tick of the clock and the gnawing emptiness in her gut.

Her fall from grace had been swift and brutal. A misplaced landing, a sickening crack, and suddenly, the golden girl of Korean gymnastics was yesterday's news. The agency, once hovering like a pack of vultures, had become ghosts, their calls replaced by a chilling silence. Only Y/n, her ever-optimistic manager, remained a constant.

Y/n, with his perpetually rumpled suits and sunshine smile, was a lifeline in the storm. He brought her takeout on bad days, meticulously researched alternative therapies, and held onto the belief in her comeback with a fervor that mirrored her own, fading hope. He saw the fire in her eyes that others deemed extinguished, a flicker that warmed a tiny corner of her desolate heart.

But hope, like a fragile butterfly, was a delicate thing. The agency's silence spoke volumes. They were dangling her over another agency, a rising star named Minji. Beautiful, talented, and the daughter of a media mogul, Minji was everything Rei was not - a living, breathing embodiment of everything that had been stolen from her.

A cold dread coiled in Rei's stomach, a serpent awakening from a long slumber. The thought of losing Y/n, the only person who saw beyond the shattered athlete, was a terror that eclipsed the physical pain in her knee. The once fragile butterfly of hope morphed into a monstrous, possessive creature, its wings a chilling black.

The following days were a whirlwind of calculated actions fueled by a twisted cocktail of love, despair, and a chilling intelligence that had always lurked beneath Rei's dazzling smile. She delved into Minji's life, a spider meticulously weaving a web. Training schedules, social media habits, even the brand of protein bars Minji favored - everything became a weapon in Rei's warped arsenal.

One rainy night, the meticulously planned "accident" unfolded with horrifying efficiency. A strategically placed puddle, a shadowed figure, and a sickening crunch. Minji's scream, swallowed by the downpour, was a macabre symphony to Rei's twisted sense of justice.

With Minji sidelined, the agency, desperate to avoid a PR nightmare, revoked Y/n's transfer. Relief washed over him, tinged with a growing unease about Rei's sudden manic cheerfulness and the cloying sweetness of the lilies that now seemed to fill every corner of her apartment.

"Rei?" Y/n's voice was a tremor as he entered the apartment one evening. "Where have you been?"

She emerged from the shadows, a chilling smile playing on her lips. The once sterile apartment was now a shrine to her twisted love. Pictures of them, stolen from his social media, adorned the walls. News clippings about Minji's "accident" lay scattered on the coffee table, their bold headlines screaming of misfortune.

"Taking care of some… inconveniences," she purred, her voice a chilling caress. Her touch, once comforting, sent shivers of dread down his spine.

"You're mine now, Y/n," she whispered, her voice a terrifying melody. "We'll be happy together. Far, far away from everyone."

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes, but they were not tears of relief. He was trapped, a prisoner not of chains, but of a love as beautiful as it was terrifying. As Rei bundled him into a waiting car, the lilies seemed to mock him with their oppressive fragrance. He wasn't going to a happy ending, but to a gilded cage, ruled by a love as beautiful as a serpent and as deadly as a nightshade bloom.

Days turned into weeks, then months. The world outside faded away, replaced by the confines of a secluded cabin nestled deep in the woods. The initial terror Y/n felt slowly morphed into a suffocating routine. Every day was a carefully orchestrated performance - forced smiles, shared meals, and nights spent under the watchful gaze of Rei's increasingly erratic behavior.

The once vibrant fire in her eyes had morphed into something cold and calculating. Gone was the athlete, replaced by a woman consumed by a possessive love that bordered on obsession. She'd meticulously recreated Y/n's old life within the confines of the cabin - a gym stocked with outdated equipment, a makeshift therapy pool, even a shrine dedicated to her "comeback."

The charade, however, began to crumble. The equipment gathered dust, the therapy pool remained unused, and the "comeback" shrine became a constant reminder of the life stolen, not just from Rei, but from Y/n. The yearning for his old life, the connection to the world outside, gnawed at him like a starving beast. He started leaving coded messages in online forums for athletes, desperate pleas for help disguised as motivational quotes.

One day, while "training" on the rusty equipment, Y/n noticed a loose screw on the weight bench. A spark of defiance flickered in his eyes. It was a long shot, a gamble, but it was his only hope. He spent the next few days subtly manipulating the screw, hoping for a catastrophic failure.

His chance came during one of their "therapy sessions" in the pool. With a practiced smile, Y/n lifted some weights. The loose screw gave way, sending the bench crashing down. Pain erupted in his shoulder, a scream ripped from his throat. Rei, startled by the noise, rushed to his side.

"What happened?" she shrieked, fear momentarily extinguishing the cold glint in her eyes.

Y/n, clutching his injured shoulder, saw his opportunity. "Help… help me get my phone," he gasped, feigning unconsciousness.

Rei, momentarily blinded by panic, scrambled to grab his phone. It was on the coffee table, lying open on a familiar athlete forum. Her eyes widened in horror as she read the cryptic message Y/n had left earlier that day: "Sun sets at 7:30. Help needed. West cabin, Maple Ridge."

The panic in her eyes turned to a chilling fury. Y/n, his heart hammering in his chest, knew he'd made a fatal mistake. Rei's smile, returning this time with a monstrous edge, sent a shiver down his spine.

"Looks like we need a new routine, Y/n," she whispered, her voice laced with a dangerous sweetness. "One that doesn't involve disobedience."

As the sun dipped below the treeline, casting long shadows across the cabin, Y/n knew the nightmare was far from over. He had ignited a spark of defiance, but at what cost? He was trapped in a twisted love story, a prisoner in a gilded cage with a predator who now knew he was prey. The fight for his freedom, and perhaps his life, had just begun.

#ive rei #rei #ive rei icons #ive starship #female athletes #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #apreciation post #update #yandere #yandere roleplay #yandere blog #yandere stories

[elryuse]

Aye bro, I notice that in your masterlist has a series named Tomboy. Will you continue it???

Maybe in the future. For now I just don't really have the want to continue the story... Maybe a reboot in the future?? We'll see...

[elryuse]

Do u do minju

Yes I do my friend 👍

[elryuse]

Hey man 🤘😃

So I thought, my request would be 1 smut and 1 yandere and the idol for smut would be Yel from H1-Key and for Yandere it would be Swan from Purple Kiss. Thanks in advance mate. 🍻

Aight man, Stay tuned for your fic okayy.. Thanks for requesting as always. 👍👍

[elryuse]

I personally like smut and fluff more then yandre

I See.. Welp stay tuned for the next fics my fren.

#kpop #kpop x reader

[elryuse]

She's so breeadable....

Pt. 3 on the way lads

#shin yuna #itzy yuna #yuna #itzy icons #yuna icons #yuna smut #yuna stories #yuna moodboard #itzy #itzy updates #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #sexy content #apreciation post #update #kpop smut