#I FINALLY KNOW WHAT HIS OFFICE LOOKS LIKE

[wooyoungiewritings]

Borrowed Time - Seonghwa x Reader (Part 1)

Summary: Your husband of 8 years suggests an open marriage, and while he's out finding a new girlfriend, you feel like it's wrong to even glance in another man's direction. But it all changes when you download Tinder and match with Seonghwa. The man who's about to turn your world upside down. And he even happens to be your husband's boss.

Word count: 11.7K

Genre: Fluff, Rich Seonghwa, some angst, slow burn, a little smut (something almost happens, that's all I'm saying)

warnings: Seonghwa with reader (fem pronouns), crying, betrayal, dry-humping, lmk if I missed anything!

This is all for fun and is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way.

It’s been four months. Four months since you had the conversation with your husband about having an open marriage, because he wanted to try something new. The conversation is still taking up space in your mind like it was yesterday he sat you down on the couch in the house you share.

“Honey, you know I still love you,” He kept repeating after saying the possibly most shocking things you’ve ever heard. “I’m just afraid we’ll get tired of each other if we don’t try this.. We promised to be together forever, but aren’t you wondering what else is waiting for you out in the world?”

“No,” Is all you could say. A million questions run through your mind as he sits in front of you, kneeled down on his knee with your hands in his as you sit on the couch. “I married you because I want to be with you. And only you.” Your voice is shaky, trying to hold back the tears.

He notices the way you react and squeezes your hands in his.

“And I want to be with you, baby. I wanna be with you for the rest of my life, which is why I feel like this is the best we can do for now.” He tried explaining, but it didn’t help. 

“I just don’t understand? Are you not happy with me? Am I not satisfying you enough? Is it me? Am I doing something wrong?” The questions fly out of your mouth before you’re able to hold back. He quickly shakes his head, holding your hands even tighter. 

“No, no not at all. Look, I was just thinking we could do this for a year, maybe? A year where we are still married, but see other people in the meantime. When the year ends, we’ll be back to just us, and because we promised to stay together for the rest of our lives, a year won’t seem as much. This will be the only time we get to see other people for the rest of our lives, baby. It’s not a bad thing, it's only gonna strengthen our marriage in the end.” 

For some twisted reason, you saw his point. If you agreed to this, he would have a year to be with whoever he wanted, to get everything out of his system. So you agreed. You told him you agreed to do this for a year, but there had to be rules.

You had to tell the other person when you started seeing someone. No sleeping with a bunch of people, you have to tell the other person who you’re sleeping with (mostly for safety reasons). And NO one is allowed into the bedroom besides husband and wife.

And so this has been going on for four months now, and your husband is out with his girlfriend. Since this wasn’t against your deal, you couldn’t say much against it, so you just nodded and pretended to be okay. He started seeing her a week after the deal was made, a woman from his office, and the news broke your heart. He was barely home anymore, spending all of his time at her place.

The pain of hearing your husband of 8 years loving someone else was unbearable, and yet you couldn’t even get yourself to see someone else. It felt so wrong. 

It was a friday night and you’re sitting on your couch in your shared home, and your husband just left to have a weekend getaway with his girlfriend. You’re staring at the TV that has been going for hours with some bad reality TV-show, when you finally realize how sick you are of sitting home alone while your husband is out. You grab your phone and without thinking too much, you download Tinder. 

It wasn’t an app you’ve ever tried before, since your husband and you have been dating since you were teens and got married at an early age. But you quickly figured out the app and set up your profile. 

Swiping left and right on guys was more fun than you imagined, getting a few matches here and there. There were all different types of profiles on this app. Guys looking for serious relationships, guys looking for hookups, couples looking for a woman to add to their threesome. Men who opened with “hey sexy” or bios that included “I’m not looking for anything serious unless it’s with Sabrina Carpenter.”

So when his profile popped up, you hesitated.

His picture captures you immediately, and you’re taken back with his beauty. He was… breathtaking. But not in that overly filtered, red flag kind of way. There was warmth in his eyes, even in photos. A calm kind of confidence. One picture had him sitting at a piano, another laughing in the passenger seat of a car, sunlight washing over his face like it knew exactly where to land.

No shirtless mirror pics. No awkward drunk group-pictures. No fish.

“Park Seonghwa.” You read his name out loud. His bio was short. “Looking for something good. And maybe someone to watch bad TV with.”

You stared at his profile for a full two minutes before swiping right, mostly convinced it wouldn’t be a match anyway.

But then-

It’s a match!

Suddenly your heart starts to beat faster and you sit up straight on the couch while looking at your phone.

Did you just match him? Probably the most handsome man you’ve ever seen?

Your stomach did a weird little flip. You waited. Twenty minutes. An hour. Maybe he wasn’t the type to message first. Maybe he matched by accident. Or maybe-...

Park Seonghwa Are you watching something awful right now? Be honest.

You look at your screen for a few seconds before reacting. A smile spreads across your lips as you open his message and type back.

Me Love Mansion: Season 6. There’s a guy crying because no one likes his magic tricks.

You quickly see the dots that indicate he’s typing.

Park Seonghwa That sounds deeply tragic. And also like something I’d binge while pretending I hate it

Me You’re one of those people? “This show is terrible” but suddenly you’ve watched 8 episodes and you know everyone’s star sign.

While you wait for his answer, you enter his profile once again. You can’t help looking at his pictures, mesmerized by how beautiful this man is. You almost get a feeling of recognition while looking at him, like you’ve seen him on a poster or in an ad or something. His profile doesn’t inform about his occupation, but you’re sure he must be showing that face off somewhere. 

A new message pops up.

Park Seonghwa: I have a spreadsheet

You laughed out loud for the first time that night.

You: So what’s your favorite actually-good movie then?

Park Seonghwa: You’re asking a very serious question to someone who owns a full set of replica lightsabers

You: Oh, so you’re very serious about it

Park Seonghwa: Yes. Star Wars. All of it. Even the prequels. Especially the prequels. I said what I said

I’m at my third Star Wars movie of the day. The movies are over two hours each, so you can imagine how eventful my day is so far

You can’t help but smile while you type out your answer. 

Me As a person who doesn’t know much about the franchise, I can’t tell you whether I’m impressed or slightly worried. Maybe I should put on a Star Wars movie and give it a chance?

An answer ticks in a few seconds later.

Park Seonghwa If you do, watch “The Last Jedi”. I just started mine, we can watch it together but separately

You don’t know how a guy you’re only a few messages deep with has you convinced this is the best way to spend your night. You decide to play the movie and message him you’re watching it too. This is the most action you’ve gotten in months, but somehow it's the perfect way to start this journey of an open-relationship. 

Maybe.

The movie begins and Seonghwa introduces some of the characters as they show up on screen. You find yourself laughing at his messages, smiling and waiting for him to text you the next thing. A feeling you haven’t felt in years, despite being married to who you’re convinced is the love of your life. But you can already tell that Seonghwa is a completely different type of guy, and for once, you actually don’t feel alone in the house you share with your husband. 

The movie ends and you’re hundreds of messages deep.

Park Seonghwa Now that we’ve concluded that “The Last Jedi” is part of an amazing franchise but not at all the best movie, I wanna admit that I’ve never looked so much at my phone during a Star Wars movie. I feel like I’m cheating on my favorite series

The text makes you giggle and you’re quick to type your answer.

Me Despite enjoying the movie, I must admit that I didn’t see half of it because I was focused on my phone. But I’ll gladly give Star Wars another chance someday

You see the text bubble appear and then go away a few times, making you curious about what he’s about to say. 

Seonghwa: We could talk about the movie over dinner tomorrow?

You stare at your screen for what feels like forever, feeling like a teenager receiving a text from her crush. This overwhelming feeling Seonghwa leaves you is something completely new, but despite it being a new and slightly scary feeling, you can’t help but feel excited. And so your fingers start typing.

Me I’d love to! After arranging your upcoming date with Seonghwa, you decide to head to bed. You’re meeting him at a restaurant in the city tomorrow, Saturday. He offered to pick you up, but you’ve seen too many horror movies to give your address to a stranger before meeting them, so you came up with an excuse to meet him there. 

You get comfortable in bed before opening his profile once again to look at his pictures.

This man… wow.

But just like before, a feeling of recognition hits you and you study his pictures a bit more. You’re sure you would remember him if you had met him, because who would forget a face like that? But it doesn’t ring a bell.. 

You open a new tab on your phone and search for his name. Perhaps he has been in a show you’ve seen on tv, maybe on a poster somewhere. There’s no way this man isn’t showing off his looks somehow. 

His name pops up on your screen.

A gasp leaves your lips and you stare at him in awe. 

It can’t be him! No no no no no… 

The name, the face, him in a suit. Everything washes over you. You throw your phone away from you and bury your face in your pillow. 

In your mind, you’re getting transported to a specific night, one year ago. Your husband has your arm in his and you’re walking side by side in your finest attire. You’re laughing at something your husband's co-worker said, when you sense a powerful presence enter the circle at the company dinner at your husband’s job.

“Oh, I want to introduce you to someone,” Your husband says as he turns you towards the newest member of the group. “My boss, Park Seonghwa.”

You stare up at him, Seonghwa slightly taller than your husband. His gaze adverts to you as he reaches out his hand. But as you give him your hand, he doesn’t do a normal handshake. He gently takes your hand in his and sends you a warm smile. Something in his eyes makes you lose all concentration, as you’re lost in his beauty. 

And then it all made sense. You’ve thought these exact thoughts before. A year ago at the company dinner and again tonight. 

Everything in your mind is going 100 m/ph and you suddenly feel confused. Does he know you’re married to his employee? Does he remember you? You’re pretty sure he doesn’t, or else he would have said something. And now you’ve arranged a date with him. 

You grab your phone again, considering if you should cancel the dinner, but something in you stops that from happening. The words don't appear in your head when you try to get out of the situation, so you delete the nonsense you’ve written so far, and decide to take things as they come. You place your phone on your night stand and get comfortable under the covers, trying your best to fall asleep.

On a couch across town, Seonghwa is still looking at his phone, looking at the text-bubbles come and go. When it doesn’t result in a text from the woman he has been texting all night, he goes to look at your profile for the 29th time tonight. 

He didn’t expect much from Tinder.

Honestly, it had been a joke. A dare, technically. His assistant downloaded it on his phone one night after too many glasses of wine at a company dinner and said, “You need to date someone who doesn’t know what your net worth is.”

So fine. He swiped. Occasionally. Mostly out of boredom, sometimes out of curiosity. Everyone started blending together. Bios full of yoga poses, forced “entrepreneur” energy, one woman who said she manifested her future husband every morning through herbal tea and moon rituals.

But then he saw you.

He found himself leaning back against the cushions, phone in hand, grinning like an idiot as your replies came in. You weren't trying to be impressive. You were just herself. And that was more magnetic than anything he’d seen in months. He didn’t even realize he’d been texting for two straight hours until his phone buzzed with a calendar notification:

Dinner with Executive Team – 9 AM monday.

He groaned. Whatever. He’d been in back-to-back meetings all week. He could allow himself one night to just… feel normal. Human.

“What’s a woman like you doing here?” he’s asking himself with a smirk, scrolling through your pictures. 

He had planned to go to bed early, have a peaceful night and get up early tomorrow, but he’s been too fascinated by the woman on the other side of the app. The tug on his lips doesn’t go away as he gets up from the couch and decides to head to bed, already accepting that he won’t get up early tomorrow. 

But one thing is for sure.

He’s very satisfied with the way his night went.

***

Saturday arrives, and you find yourself in front of the restaurant you agreed to meet Seonghwa at. You haven’t had any contact since you arranged the date, besides the check-in he made earlier today to ask if you were still down for dinner.

You feel the nerves in your body when you open the door, not having felt this feeling since you started dating your husband. The restaurant is in an area of town you usually didn’t visit - it is more expensive than you are used to. But not spending money on dates with your husband, and only cooking food for one for the past four months has resulted in you having a bit more money than you usually do, so you could go big for one night and spend some money on a good restaurant. 

The restaurant has a dark design with marble and wooden interior. The light is dimmed and you notice couples occupying tables throughout the restaurant. 

This is actually happening. You are going on a date with him.

With Seonghwa. 

It suddenly hit you and once again, you starting to doubt if this was a good idea. You have come to the point where you wanted to date, but dating your husband’s boss seems like the next level. Will your husband be okay with this? Will Seonghwa be okay with this?

Suddenly feeling like your legs are about to give out, you turn around to head outside but you are instead met with a human wall. A set of hands grab your waist to steady you, making sure you won’t fall by the sudden collision. 

“Running away already?” The voice asks, darker than you remember but also soft with a small tease. You look up to see Seonghwa’s soft eyes, slightly covered by some dark pieces of hair. Being a few inches from his face, you can’t help but freeze to study how absolutely amazing he looks up close. 

His almost black eyes, bushy brows, how his upper lip looks slightly bigger than the other, the most perfect nose you’ve ever seen.. Everything is too perfect, you don't know how to react. 

The sudden realization that his hands are on your waist wakes you up, and you stand back up straight to take a step away from him and his undeniably stunning face. 

“Uhm, no I.. I mean, I- no. I didn’t..” Your struggle with words makes him chuckle and he seems to brush off your awkward first meeting quicker than you. 

“How about we find our table?” He asks with a smile, placing his hand on your back to lead you further into the restaurant. 

“Mh-hmm.” Is all you manage to get out, wanting to kick yourself in the head for almost walking out on this man. 

The restaurant is a rooftop spot. Quiet, upscale, city lights spilling in through the glass walls. A jazz trio played somewhere in the background, subtle and elegant. The staff seem to know him, your table is ready immediately, tucked in a quiet corner with a view of the city lights. He orders a bottle of wine without looking at the menu, his tone smooth and confident, and then turn all his attention to you.

“Tell me something,” he says, resting his chin on his hand, “How have you lived your entire life and last night was the first time you watched a Star Wars movie?”

You blink at him. “You start with the hard questions?”

He smile. “I like to skip the small talk.”

You giggle. And from there, the conversation goes rather smoothly. Then easier as the wine warms your chest and his eyes never stop watching you like you were the most interesting person in the world. He asks thoughtful questions. He doesn’t talk about himself unless you ask. And when you do, he’s vague, says he works in business, likes privacy, that his life isn’t all that exciting.

Which is a lie, you are sure.

This man radiates luxury. His watch alone could pay for your college loans, and he never once checked it. And then somewhere between the wine and the main course, it starts to gnaw at you. The weight of the secret you’re keeping. Or at least… the one you thought is yours alone.

You clear your throat, reaching for your glass again even though you didn’t really want another sip.

“I should tell you something.”

He tilts his head. “Are you okay?” he senses the way your behavior changes and tries meeting your eyes.

“Yeah,” your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, too nervous to break the truth that you know this man in front of you. “Or.. I don’t know, no, yes-no..” Your heart is beating fast. “Look, I’m sorry, but I feel like I have to be honest with you. I don’t want you to waste your time sitting here, and if you don’t feel comfortable after receiving this information I totally understand, so if you’re freaked out we can pretend this never happened and I won’t-..”

“Look,” Seonghwa places his hand over yours, totally calm, meeting your eyes. “Did you kill someone?”

“No!” You try keeping your voice down. Try.

“Do you need me to hide a body?”

“No!?”

“... Are we related?”

You tilt your head “No? I hope not…?”

“Then we’re good. I won’t be freaked out.” He shrugs, leans slightly back in his seat and sends you a smile as he picks up his glass.

You look at him, really look, and then just say it.

“You’re my husband’s boss.”

A beat. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. Just blinked once, slowly.

“Is that so?” he asked softly.

“I figured it out when I looked you up after we matched. I wasn’t… trying to snoop, I swear, I just got curious. And then I remembered you from the company dinner last year. Anyway, I wanted to say something in case it made this… weird for you.”

He smiles gently, setting down his glass. “It doesn’t.”

You blink. “Really?”

“I knew who you were the moment I saw your profile.”

Your stomach drops. “Oh.”

“But I still swiped right,” he adds, voice low, calm. “And I still wanted to meet you.”

“…Why?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He just looks at you for a moment, and something in his gaze makes your skin heat. “Because I wanted the honor of inviting you out for dinner.” he says.

Your breath catches. You don’t know what to say to that, so you stay quiet, letting the words sit between you like warm embers.

“And now that we’re being honest,” he continues gently, “That little thing on your finger.” He points to the gold band with a small diamond around your finger, proving to everyone, including yourself, that you’re still in a marriage.

You give a small, helpless laugh. “Oh.. Yeah, it’s not what it looks like. Or maybe it is? I don’t think so, actually, I don’t know what this looks like, but I’m not doing anything I’m not supposed to do-...”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” he says.

“No, I want to,” you reply, surprising yourself. “I need to.”

So you tell him. About the open marriage your husband suggested. About how you agreed, naively thinking it would be equal. About how he’d found someone in a matter of weeks while you’d sat at home, trying to convince yourself you weren’t just waiting. You watch Seonghwa carefully for a reaction. There is none, no judgment, no discomfort. Just a quiet focus that made you feel safer than you’d felt in months.

“But it’s actually a really good idea. I mean, we get the chance to see other people and do whatever we want, so we won’t cheat on each other later on,” you shrug, looking down at the wineglass instead of the piercing eyes in front of you. “It’s preventing us from hurting the other person in the end.” you say, finally. 

He sits quiet, just taking in your words. You can’t read his eyes, he just listens. But you don’t feel judged by the man in front of you. His eyes show too much warmth for you to be intimidated. 

“I don’t understand.” he finally says. 

“You know, if we date other people now, we won’t feel the need to do so in the future.” 

“No, I heard every word you said loud and clear,” he leaned forward in his chair, voice still soft. “I just don’t understand why he would need to.. you know.. date others when he has you.” 

Seonghwa was trying his best to not push. He could easily have said “I mean, if I was your husband, I wouldn’t want to see other people. I wouldn’t ever want another woman.” but he is still in the stage of getting to know you, doesn’t want to scare you away, and despite remembering you from the company dinner last year, he only remembers what impression you left him. A quick introduction and laughs shared in a circle of multiple people, but somehow his eyes kept drifting to you.

Your laugh, your dress, the way your eyes sparkled under the lights. It had stayed with Seonghwa for a year, so when he saw your profile on a dating app, he knew he had to shoot his shot. Unaware of what the circumstances are between you and your husband. 

But he doesn’t ask for more explanation. Instead, he shifts the conversation, just slightly, easing it toward lighter things, books, music, how you both secretly hate networking events.

And somehow, the night never felt heavy again. When dessert comes, some delicate French pastry you can’t pronounce, he insists you try the first bite. When your laugh returns, brighter this time, he smiles like that was the reward he’s been waiting for.

Later, as he walks you to your ride, you feel lighter. Like maybe it was okay to want something new. Someone new.

“I still want to see you again,” he says, standing beside the car door. His hand brushes your wrist, soft and brief. “If you want that too.”

You nod.

“I do.”

He opens the door for you, then leans down just enough to meet your eyes.

“Then let’s take our time.”

In the cab on the way home, you can’t stop smiling. You haven’t even finished closing the door behind you before your phone buzz.

Seonghwa: Text me when you’re home safe, yeah? No pressure, just want to know you’re good.

You smile into the hallway light. God, he’s that kind of man. You kick off your heels, phone still in hand, fingers already typing back.

You: Home. Warm. A little wine-dizzy but safe. Thank you for dinner.

Seonghwa: Thank you for giving me a chance. Sleep well xx

You sit on the edge of your bed for a moment longer than necessary, phone against your chest, still fully dressed. The night felt soft around the edges, like it wasn’t quite real. Like maybe you’d dreamed it. His smile, the way he listens to you like your words matter, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room.

And he knows. That was the wild part. He knows you’re married, to his employee, no less, and he still treats you with more care and curiosity than your own husband had in months. You let yourself fall back into bed, fully clothed, staring up at the ceiling with the ghost of his cologne still caught in your hair.

***

On this incredibly boring Monday, the rain started halfway through your meeting, and by the time you stepped outside, it had gone from a gentle drizzle to a full-on, cinematic downpour. You stand beneath the awning outside your building, arms crossed, watching as the other employees disappeared into warm cars and dry seats.

Your husband was supposed to pick you up. You agreed to that last week, so you texted him before you left, but no response. Not a word. That was twenty-five minutes ago. 

Your fingers tightens around your phone as you glance down the street for the fifth time. Just water streaking down your coat sleeve and your phone screen lighting up.

Not from him.

But from Seonghwa.

Seonghwa I debated texting you for ten minutes. This is me giving in. Hi.

You smile immediately, shoulders relaxing under your scarf as you type back.

You Ten minutes? I’m flattered. 

Three dots. Then:

Seonghwa Are you still at work or did you escape?

You exhale slowly, already smiling before your fingers move to reply.

You Currently trying to escape. But I’m waterlogged and standing under a leaky bus shelter.

A pause.

Seonghwa Do I want to know why you’re waiting for a bus in a rainstorm?

You hesitate. Not because you don’t want to tell him, but because you did. And that felt… a little dangerous. But you type anyway.

You Husband said he’d pick me up after work. Then forgot.

You don’t know the reason why your husband didn’t pick you up today. But it was not the first time this has happened. Last time he was busy hanging out with his girlfriend, having his phone on silent. 

Three dots danced at the bottom of the screen for a long moment before his reply came in:

Seonghwa Tell me where you are

You don’t answer right away. Another bus pass, wrong line again, and your fingers ache from the cold.

You Seonghwa. I’m fine. It’s just a little rain

Seonghwa Sure. And I’m a little meteorologist. Tell me where you are

You bite your lip, watching as a bus rumbled past - not yours. 

You Seventh and Willow. But you don’t have to, it’s okay

Seonghwa I’m already in my car. Don’t argue with me while you’re catching pneumonia

Your lips curve in spite of yourself. You pulled your scarf tighter.

Seonghwa On my way. Five minutes. Don’t wander off or find a mysterious love interest in a bookstore while I’m driving

You spotted his car before you saw him.

It turns the corner slowly, headlights washing across the slick pavement, wipers dragging across the windshield in a steady rhythm. The passenger window rolls down just enough for him to lean towards it.

“Hey, get in,” he says, his tone easy and unaffected by the weather. “You look like you’ve been here a while.” 

You step forward, your boots making soft splashes in the puddles, and slide into the passenger seat. The warmth of the car is immediate, and you exhale, feeling some of the tension leave your shoulders. The car hums quietly as Seonghwa drives through the rain-slicked streets. He’s keeping his eyes on the road, but every now and then, his gaze flickers over to you, the small, concerned crease in his brow visible in the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice steady but soft. He’s not pushing, just checking in.

You nod, brushing your damp hair back and glancing out the window. The cold air from the rain has soaked through your coat, and your clothes cling to you uncomfortably. The heater in the car is doing its best, but you can still feel the chill.

“I’m fine,” you say, though your voice sounds a little too quiet. “Just... a little wet. Didn’t expect next time you’d see me, to be me looking like this.”

Seonghwa doesn't respond right away, but you catch the small shift in his demeanor, a brief, thoughtful silence. His hands grip the steering wheel lightly as he drives through the darkened streets, navigating without hurry.

“Do you want to stop somewhere?” he asks, keeping his tone casual, though you can sense the care behind it. “Grab something warm?”

You think about it for a second. A warm drink, maybe a cozy corner of some café, those were things you used to enjoy. But the idea of sitting in a café, dripping wet and freezing, doesn’t feel right tonight. It feels… forced. You want warmth, sure, but not from the outside world.

You glance at him, then back at the road ahead.

“Actually,” you start, “could we just... go to your place?” your words surprising yourself. “If it’s not too much, of course.”

Seonghwa blinks, a soft smile curling at the corner of his lips, but he doesn't ask any questions. Instead, he simply nods, his gaze shifting back to the road as the corners of his mouth deepen into a fond, knowing expression.

“You sure?” he asks, voice low. “I mean... you’ve had a long day. You’re drenched.”

You shrug, even though a small part of you is shocked by your own words. "I’m fine. I’m not in the mood for a date-date or whatever. Just... somewhere warm. And I don’t wanna be alone tonight. If you don’t mind.”

The silence between you two feels more comfortable now, the tension from the earlier moments gone. It’s like a weight has lifted, neither of you needs to pretend anymore.

“Alright,” he says, his voice warm, “to my place it is.” The car turns into a quieter street, and Seonghwa taps his fingers lightly against the steering wheel, his smile still lingering.

When you step out of the car and into the rain, Seonghwa’s hand briefly touches the small of your back, guiding you toward the building. The touch is gentle and reassuring.

His apartment is warmer than you expected when you step inside. It’s spacious, sure, but it’s not the cold, intimidating type of wealth you might expect from someone like him. It’s cozy in a way that’s unexpected, like he’s curated it with care, each little thing in its place. You can tell he’s put thought into making this space a refuge, a place of comfort. 

“I can grab you a towel,” Seonghwa offers immediately, his voice soft. He’s already moving toward the bathroom, but when you shake your head, he pauses. “Are you sure? I’d feel better if you changed into something comfortable.”

You glance down at yourself, feeling how soaked your clothes are, and how tired you are of pretending like you don’t need help. You nod. “That would be nice, actually.”

He smiles, but it’s not a proud smile. It’s the kind of smile that makes you feel like he’s quietly relieved, like he wants to take care of you in a way you didn’t realize you needed. “I have a few shirts you can borrow,” he says, a hint of hesitation in his tone. “Nothing fancy, just... dry.”

You watch him for a moment, the way he’s trying to gauge your comfort level without pushing too hard. It’s the first time you’ve seen him unsure of anything, and it’s a little disarming.

“That sounds perfect,” you say, giving him a small, appreciative smile.

He moves quickly, purposefully, heart thudding a little harder than usual. Not from nerves, but from quiet anger. Who forgets to pick up their wife in the middle of a downpour? He doesn’t let the frustration show on his face. He just breathes through it, reminding himself that this moment isn’t about him. It’s about making you comfortable. It’s about undoing a little bit of whatever damage your husband didn’t think twice about causing.

He returns with a shirt and a pair of sweatpants. A soft, worn-in tee, and hands it to you. The fabric is warm to the touch, and it smells faintly of him. He doesn’t linger too long, but there’s something in the way he carefully places it in your hands that makes you feel safe, like he genuinely wants you to be okay, not just physically, but emotionally too.

“Take your time,” he says softly, backing away. He nods toward the hallway. “Bathroom’s down to the left. I’ll make some tea. You’ll feel better.”

It’s a simple offer, like he’s willing to offer you warmth without making you feel indebted to him. When you disappear into the bathroom to change, you can hear him bustling around in the kitchen. You take a deep breath and let yourself relax for the first time in what feels like forever.

When you return, towel-drying your hair with one of the fluffy hand towels he left out for you, you’re practically swallowed in his clothes. The shirt hangs loose over your frame, the waistband of the sweatpants tied tight around your hips. You’ve never felt so ridiculous and so safe all at once.

Seonghwa looks up from the kitchen and immediately gives you that soft, amused smile. “Okay, that’s a look.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Stylish, right? You might not get these back.”

“I was just about to say they suit you,” he replies, not missing a beat.

You laugh, and it’s small, but real, and it makes something warm twist in his chest. He’s pacing, sleeves pushed up as he moves easily around the kitchen. A kettle is on, two mugs already waiting. You catch the scent of honey and ginger in the air, something warm and slightly sweet.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you murmur, padding into the kitchen and wrapping your arms around yourself.

He glances up from stirring the honey. “You’re cold. You’re tired. I want to.” Then, with a softer voice: “Let me take care of you. Just a little.”

That shouldn’t make your stomach flutter the way it does.

You sit at the counter, fingers curling around the mug he places in front of you. You’re so used to handling everything on your own that this small act of care feels like a luxury.

He leans against the counter opposite you, arms crossed casually, like he’s trying to keep a respectful distance. But he can’t help stealing glances at you. Not hungry, not suggestive, just thoughtful. Quietly admiring.

“You’ve had a long day,” he says after a pause, not prying. “Want to talk about it?”

You shake your head, sipping your tea. “Not really.”

“That’s okay,” he says immediately. “We can just sit.”

No questions. No expectations. He wouldn’t make you relive any of it. Not the rain, not the waiting, not the part where someone was supposed to show up and didn’t.

You let a little smile play at the edge of your lips. “You’re... very good at this.”

“At what?”

“Being comforting. It’s like you have a degree in it or something.”

Seonghwa chuckles, eyes crinkling just a little. “I’m just treating you how I think you deserve to be treated.”

He means it.

He means it.

You set your mug down. “You don’t even know me.”

Seonghwa smiles, not missing a beat. “I’m working on it.”

He leans slightly on the counter, arms still crossed, eyes steady on yours. “But I’ve picked up a few things. You’re the kind of person who checks in on others even when you’re the one having a bad day. You’re a little stubborn when it comes to letting people take care of you - you want to do things yourself. And when you’re tired, you get kind of funny. Like, weirdly funny.”

You laugh under your breath, and so does he.

“And tonight?” His smile softens. “You needed someone. I was close by. That’s all it takes.” There’s no hidden meaning in his voice. No pressure. Just the kind of honesty you’re not used to from a man.

You meet his eyes, and there it is. The kind of tension that doesn’t scream or flirt, it just hums. You glance around his kitchen. The wooden cabinets, the tiny potted herb garden on the windowsill, the slightly chipped mug in front of you. “Your place… it’s not what I expected.”

“Let me guess,” he teases, “you thought it’d be floor-to-ceiling glass, steel counters, and an automatic espresso machine?”

“Something like that.”

He grins. “I like homes that feel lived in. I don’t like that cold, overly-modern stuff. I like that I can comfortably show off my collection of magnets without having to worry if it fits in with the rest of the home.” He points to his fridge and you notice the huge collection of magnets. You let out a soft giggle.

You like that answer too much. You shouldn’t, but you do.

“I like it,” you say softly, not just about the apartment. The warm cup rests between your palms, grounding you, and Seonghwa leans back against the counter beside you, sipping his own. Then, without a word, he sets his mug down and starts rummaging through a cabinet.

You squint at him. “What are you doing?”

He glances over his shoulder with a small, almost mischievous smile. “We’re making cookies.”

You blink. “We are?”

“We are now,” he says simply, already pulling out a bag of flour.

You let out a soft laugh and step up beside him. You don’t ask if he needs help. You just join in. And he doesn’t say anything, just gives you a smile so gentle. Ten minutes later, the kitchen is a disaster.

The butter refuses to cooperate, slipping through your fingers and plopping to the floor. You try again, and this time it sticks to your hands so stubbornly that Seonghwa has to come to your rescue, giggling as he wipes it off with a spatula.

“Here,” he says, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Let’s try that again.” 

You giggle, brushing hair out of your face. “I swear, never make cookies.” 

“Oh, I can tell,” he teases, but there’s no judgment in his tone, only encouragement. “It’s okay. It’s the thought that counts.”

Later, flour explodes from the bag as it’s accidentally knocked over. It snows down across the counter, your arms, his shirt. You both freeze, and then burst into laughter. A moment later, the chocolate chips spill, scattering everywhere. 

Eventually, you both give up, the half-mixed dough resting lopsided in the bowl. You sat on the counter, legs swinging slightly as Seonghwa stood beside you. The bowl rests on your lap as he hands you a spoonful of raw dough, and you take it without hesitation.

“I think we killed it.” Seonghwa says proudly, scooping up some cookie dough for himself, using the same spoon.

“This might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” you say around a mouthful. You sit side by side in the wreckage of flour and chocolate chips, warm tea forgotten, sharing bites of something that didn’t quite turn out the way it was supposed to, but still feels like a win.

You’re mid-laugh when he pauses, his eyes softening as they settle on you. Without a word, he steps a little closer, and his hand lifts. Gentle and careful.

“There’s a little…” he murmurs, brushing his fingers just above your eyebrow, where a streak of flour has settled. His thumb grazes your skin as he wipes it away, but he doesn’t pull back right away.

His touch lingers.

You feel it all the way down to your spine. His warmth, the closeness, the way his eyes briefly drop to your lips before meeting your gaze again. The air feels thick, like something unsaid is pressing at the edges of the moment. 

“Got it,” he says quietly. But he doesn’t move. And neither do you.

You’re still perched on the counter, his body angled toward yours, only a breath between you. He leans in slightly, gaze dropping again, first to your lips, then back up to your eyes, like he’s asking without words.

You lean in too.

Your knees bump against his hips, and your breath catches, held in your chest like it’s afraid to break the moment. His hands finds the counter next to you, grounding him, pulling him even closer. So close you can count every faint freckle on his skin. So close his breath hits your cheek.

And your phone rings.

Loud. Sharp. Invasive.

You freeze.

The moment shatters like glass.

Seonghwa pulls back slowly, but his hand stays on the counter near you, and he doesn’t turn away. Your phone rings again, and your eyes flick to the screen.

“Husband.”

You swallow hard, something sinking in your chest. Seonghwa doesn't say anything. He just watches, his expression soft but unreadable, and steps back enough to give you space. Not far, just enough. You hesitate for half a second. Then you slide off the counter, still warm from where your knees had brushed against him, and answer.

“Hello?” Your voice is thinner than you meant it to be.

He turns away, not out of anger, not even disappointment, just… quiet. Respectful. Still the same steady, gentle man, already reaching for the dish towel to start wiping flour from the counter like he’s giving you time. Giving you privacy.

But the warmth between you hasn’t disappeared.

It just simmers now, quiet and unsaid. Still there. Still waiting.

You murmur a few short replies into the phone, keeping your tone neutral. You hang up a moment later, your fingers still loosely wrapped around the device, like you’re not quite sure what to do with it. Seonghwa glances at you, not questioning, not pressing. Just that same soft-eyed look, like he sees everything without needing it explained.

You clear your throat and set the phone down on the far end of the counter. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” His voice is quiet. He offers you the tiniest smile. “You didn’t miss much. The cookie dough was starting to melt anyway.”

You laugh under your breath, and he smiles a little wider.

“I should… probably get going soon,” you say.

“Yeah.” He nods slowly, “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll give you a ride.”

You change into your old clothes, now warm and dry after Seonghwa took care of it. You finish tying your shoes and glance up at him. His movements are calm, deliberate, like he’s giving you space to process, to gather yourself. His gentleness is almost too much to handle right now, and you wonder if he knows how much he’s doing, just being there. Just being himself.

The drive back to your place is calm, the city lights flickering by as Seonghwa keeps his focus on the road, his hand steady on the wheel. Every now and then, his eyes flicker toward you, like he’s checking, making sure you’re okay. 

When he finally pulls up to your house, you hesitate for a second before opening the door. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, “You really made my day.” and finally, and he offers you that smile of his. It’s small, but it reaches his eyes. 

“Anytime,” he replies softly, as if there’s no question.

You step out of the car, the door closing behind you with a soft click. You stand there for a moment, watching his headlights fade into the distance, a quiet warmth settling in your chest.

***

A week has passed since that night. The one where everything had almost felt like it could change. The small, sweet moments that lingered in the kitchen, the silent tension, and that quiet brush of his fingers against your face. But you hadn’t really spoken much after that.

Seonghwa had been giving you space. He never pressed, never pushed, just sent a message here and there, something light, something simple. Asking how your day was, letting you know he was there if you needed to talk. It was as though he understood the weight on your shoulders, the things you were still trying to process, and he respected that.

You’d found comfort in those texts. They were a gentle reminder that there was still kindness out there, that not all men were careless or indifferent. But you hadn’t been ready to dive into anything more. Not yet.

So you let the days pass, lost in work and the usual noise of life, where everything felt like it was moving forward and standing still all at once.

When you walk into the house that evening, expecting to be alone, the air feels too still. Almost oppressive. You take off your shoes, drop your bag, and then, suddenly, you hear it.

Moans.

Loud and unmistakable.

Your heart skips a beat. The noise comes from the bedroom.

You freeze, panic washes over you in a way you never thought you’d feel. The reality hits harder than a slap, and before your mind can catch up to your body, your feet are already moving, silent, quick, out the door.

Your husband. With her.

The woman he’d been seeing for months. The one you knew about. From his work. The one he swore wouldn’t ever step foot in your bedroom.

But she had. They had.

The rules didn’t matter now.

You can barely remember how you made it out of the house, your heart pounding like it’s trying to escape your ribs. You don’t stop to think. You just grab your coat and rush outside, the cold air stinging your cheeks. You get on the bus, not thinking clearly or caring about anything other than getting away.

Away to the last place that felt safe.

Seonghwa opens the door looking completely confused in a loose hoodie and gray sweatpants, as if he’s been lounging or about to sleep. His hair is slightly tousled, his face soft with surprise, but when he sees you standing there, shaking and crying, everything about him changes.

His eyes widens, his body tensing as if his instincts slammed into overdrive.

“Hey-..hey, what’s going on?” His voice cracks a little, pure concern bleeding through. “Are you-, are you okay? What happened?” He barely waits for an answer before stepping forward, one hand reaching out like he’s afraid to startle you, the other already pulling the door wider. “Come in. Come here. Please.”

You don’t even remember how you’d made it to his place. You didn’t call, didn’t text, didn’t even know where else to go. You are just… there. Your legs moved on their own. He gently takes your wrist, guiding you inside like he thought you might fall apart if he let go. And maybe you would.

“I-I didn’t know where else to go,” you whisper, your voice trembling so much the words barely came out. “I walked in and they were… in the bedroom. Our bedroom. I heard her, and him-”

Your breath hitched. The shame, the heartbreak, the betrayal all crashed into you again like a tidal wave. Seonghwa freeze, his face shifting from confusion to something like disbelief, followed by an ache so deep it flickered across his features before he could hide it.

“You’re shaking,” he breathes, like that was the only thing he could focus on to keep himself from doing something rash. “Gosh-, come here.”

Then he pulls you in. Not tentative. Not gentle like before. But firm. Warm. Protective. His arms wrap around you completely, hands cradling the back of your head, the middle of your back, holding you like he was trying to piece you back together with just his embrace.

You broke.

The sob that escaped you was raw, tearing through your chest as you collapsed against him. His hoodie quickly dampened with your tears, but he didn’t care. He only held you tighter.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers into your hair, over and over again, his voice thick, arms unyielding. “I’m so sorry. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”

A few hours passed. The silence of the apartment is heavy, and the soft hum of the city outside filters in through the windows, but none of it seems to matter. Seonghwa sits on the edge of the couch, his gaze fixed on you as you sleep, curled up with a blanket around you. Seonghwa didn’t move you. He wouldn’t dare. Your face is peaceful now, but he knows, he saw the remnants of the tears still streaked on your cheeks.

He watches you for a long moment, longer than he should have, just to be sure you were breathing easy, that your face wasn’t tight with the pain you’d carried in. He adjust the blanket around your shoulders once more, fingers brushing your arm like a silent promise: I’m here.

Then he slips away into the kitchen.

The lights are dim. He doesn’t turn on the overheads. Only the small one above the sink cast a quiet glow, painting gold over the counter and the delicate steam curling from the mug of tea he never ended up drinking.

He cleans slowly. Methodically. Not because there is much to clean, but because he needs to do something with his hands. He needs to focus on anything but the image of you curled on his couch with your cheeks still damp from crying. Something about seeing you so hurt, so vulnerable in his home, keeps his chest tight and his thoughts moving. He wants to be nearby, just in case you wake up and need him. 

He didn’t know what to do when you broke. His instinct was to hold you, to gather you up and shelter you from everything, but he’d hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to. God, he wanted to, but because he didn’t know if it was what you needed.

You are still married. Still healing. Still so fragile it makes his chest ache.

And yet, he can’t stop thinking about how you came here. To him. Not a friend. Not a hotel. Him.

What did that mean?

What could it mean?

He’s still standing at the sink, drying his hands on a dish towel, when he hears the soft shuffle of your footsteps behind him. You’re quiet, hesitant, still wearing the same clothes from earlier. Sleep clinging to your features, eyes puffy, hair slightly mussed, your voice rough when you speak.

“Seonghwa?”

He turns once.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, barely looking at him. “For just… showing up. For staying. I didn’t mean to take up your whole night.”

Seonghwa sets the tea towel down gently and shakes his head “You didn’t take anything,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

You look at him, startled by how easily he says it, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like there was nowhere else he’d rather have you.

“I feel ridiculous,” you say quietly, fingers curling around the edge of the counter. “Showing up here. Crying like that. Falling asleep like a mess on your couch.”

Seonghwa looks up from the sink where he’s rinsing a cup, then reaches for the towel draped nearby to dry it. He moves slowly, deliberately, as if not to startle you. “You’re not a mess,” he says. “You’re human. And tonight was… a lot. You shouldn’t have had to hear that. Especially not in your own home.”

You nod once, lips press tight, your eyes tracing the pattern of the granite countertop.

“I guess I just didn’t expect it to hurt like that,” you whisper. “I agreed to this open marriage, I knew what it meant. All he had to do was follow the simple rules we made; let the other person know when you’re dating someone and don’t bring them into the bedroom. But hearing them like that… it was like everything I’d been pretending not to feel came crashing in.”

He steps a little closer, still drying the mug but slowing as he listens.

You look up at him then, eyes glassy. “I didn’t mean to bring it all here.”

“You didn’t bring anything but yourself,” he says, voice softer now. “And for what it’s worth… I’m glad you came. I’ve only seen you a few times, but I-” He hesitated, then smiled faintly, “I wouldn’t have wanted you to go anywhere else tonight.”

Your chest tightens. Something in his words, his expression, the way he stands there drying a cup like it was the only way he can keep his hands from holding you.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” he adds, glancing down at the towel in his hand, placing the cup on the counter. “But when I saw you at my door, I didn’t feel interrupted. I felt relieved.” he huffs a quiet breath, laughing under it, ”I didn’t want anyone else to be the one you went to. Is that selfish? Maybe. But—”

He didn’t get to finish.

The towel was halfway folded in his hands when you moved.

Three fast steps.

Your fingers gripped the front of his shirt, pulled him down before he could process what was happening, and you kissed him.

Hard. Needy. Quietly desperate.

You needed to. You needed to feel if this was more than just you feeling crazy. Could you really find safety in someone who isn’t your husband? How could this man you’ve met 3 times the past two weeks, be the most thoughtful and supportive person in your life at the moment?

The towel slips from his hand, landing forgotten on the kitchen floor. He kisses you back like it’s the most natural thing in the world, hands finding your cheeks, pulling you close without hesitation. The warmth of him spreads through you instantly, grounding, solid, safe.

You don’t speak.

Neither does he.

Not until the kiss breaks, just enough for breath.

“I…” you whisper, suddenly unsure.

He smiles, gently, almost in disbelief. “You caught me off guard.” He’s smiling, eyes warm, his thumb brushing your side like he can’t stop touching you now that he’s started. 

“I don’t know why I did that,” you whisper, nervous now, terrified he might say it was too soon. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m really glad you did it.” His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with hunger, and you can feel the weight of his desire pressing against you, but there was hesitation, just a flicker of it.

You mumble the words, barely loud enough for either of you to hear. “Is this... too fast?”

A beat passed. Then another. 

“No,” he says softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Not if it’s you. Not if you’re the one reaching for me.”

Your breath catches, the lump in your throat returning. Not from grief this time, but from something gentler. Something like hope. 

“You set the pace. I’ll follow.”

And he means it. Every word.

You reach for him again, pulling him in. The kiss is firmer this time, your lips claiming his with more urgency, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt as if you couldn’t get close enough. He groans into your mouth, his hands tightening around your waist, as if holding you in place is the only thing keeping him from losing control.

Your hands slid by the hem of his shirt, fingertips barely grazing over his warm skin, and you feel him tense beneath your touch. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Fuck,” he rasp. “I’m barely holding on.”

“Good,” you whisper, and lean up to kiss him again.

His hands are on your waist, his grip tight, but there is still a slight hesitation in him. It’s as if he was torn between wanting to be the good guy, wanting to respect your boundaries, and the overwhelming, suffocating need to give in to everything you’re offering. His lips meet yours again, deeper this time, and the kiss is frantic, hungry, as though he can’t get close enough, can’t touch you enough.

You barely register your back hitting the edge of the kitchen island until his hands curl under your thighs and lift you effortlessly. You gasp, startled by the sudden motion, but his strength… the ease of it, the way he settles you gently onto the counter like you’re precious, it makes you shiver.

You wrap your legs around his hips instantly, locking your heels at the small of his back, and it pushes him in deeper, his length perfectly aligned with the ache between your legs.

The moment your bodies aligned, you both gasped.

You feel him.

Thick and full and undeniably hard, straining against the soft gray fabric of his sweatpants. He’s pressed right against your center, the outline of him so vivid you can practically trace it with your eyes.

You gasp. He curses. 

“I can see you,” you whisper, voice wrecked, eyes flicking down to where his sweatpants clung to him, every thick inch outlined and throbbing. “You’re so hard.”

He lets out a strangled groan. “Don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that-”

You can't help but grind once against his member, and you whimper as his hips rolled forward, slow and deep. His cock drags up the seam of your heat, the head catching perfectly where your clit throbs. It’s too much and not enough. The layers between you only made it worse.

He feels you. Wet, warm, pressed against the inside of your panties, where your thin leggings clings like a second skin, doing nothing to hide how badly you want him. His mouth crashes onto yours, and it was different this time, no hesitation, no restraint. Just teeth and tongue and desperation. Your hands were in his hair now, tugging, dragging him closer. He presses against you, hard enough to make you moan, and God, you feel him, thick, hard, straining against his pants.

But something occupies your mind.

“Wait,” You keep your legs wrapped around him. You don’t let go. Immediately, he stills. His breathing ragging, chest rising and falling against yours. His hands are warm on your thighs where they rest, thumbs rubbing soft, slow circles into your skin like he’s grounding you. His forehead presses gently against yours, both of you still catching your breath. 

“I want to,” you admitted, your voice wrecked. “So bad. But I need… I need to say it first. To him.”

Him. Your Husband.

For the first time in months, you hated that your husband was in your mind right now. 

His gaze lifts to yours instantly, and for a second, you brace yourself for disappointment. But it never comes.

He nods. “I know,” he pulls back and kisses your forehead. “Just because he broke your rules does not mean you should do it too.” He’s way quicker to understand than you’ve ever imagined. He’s too good.

“I’m sorry… I really want to.” You say, finding his eyes. “But I feel like I have to tell him that I’m seeing someone, let alone his boss, before I do something.”

“Hey,” he cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin, the warmest eyes you’ve ever met. “You don’t have to explain, I totally understand.”

You try smiling but it doesn't quite reach your eyes. “It’s not you. I’m just not in the right headspace, and if we did this right now, I think I’d just… think too much. Regret it. Not because of you! But because of everything else.”

“I know,” he says gently, brushing your hair back with a touch that’s nothing short of reverent. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. If you want to do this or not. Whatever you end up deciding, I’ll respect. But if you decide you want to do this, with me sometime, I don’t want you to feel any pressure. I’m not going anywhere, I’ll wait for you.”

And God. That. That is the thing. He isn’t demanding. He isn’t jealous. He isn’t angry or annoyed or trying to guilt you into a decision.

He just understand.

“You’re kind,” you say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You’re really fucking kind.” 

A silence fills the space between you, your gaze dropping down to where your bodies meet. You look up at him, cheeks flushed. “If I hadn’t said stop… would you have?”

His eyes darkens. He smile, not cocky. But honest.

“Not a chance in hell.” The weight behind those words makes your chest ache. “Can I do anything for you?” 

You glance down at yourself, then let out a soft, embarrassed laugh. “I probably need a shower. I look like someone who lost a fight to her own life.”

He grins at that, easing back just enough to slide his hands to your waist. Before you can say another word, he’s lifting you down from the counter with a firm but gentle grip, like you’re something precious, and threading his fingers through yours.

“Come on,” he murmurs, tugging you softly. “Shower. I’ll get everything ready.”

You trail behind him to the bathroom, your hand still tucked in his. He moves around the space with practiced ease, grabbing towels, adjusting the water, and even laying out the same sweatpants and oversized t-shirt you wore the last time you were here.

When he places them carefully on the counter, he gives you one last glance, warm and soft. “Take your time, your clothes are on the counter. I’ll be in the living room when you’re done.”

You nod, suddenly overwhelmed in a completely different way. “Seonghwa?”

He pauses in the doorway, looking back at you.

“Thank you. For… not making this weird.”

His smile is soft, patient. “It’s not weird. It’s okay.”

A few minutes later, you’re still in his bathroom, the warmth of the steam and the quiet hum of the fan giving you a moment to breathe. To be alone and let the water rinse some of it away. Not the pain of today, but the weight of it, just for a moment.

You change into the familiar sweatpants and soft T-shirt he left folded neatly by the sink. They still smell like him. When you open the door again, the hallway’s dim, and the softest light glows from the living room. 

He’s sitting on the couch, one arm resting over the back, a blanket already draped across the cushions, like he’s been preparing your little corner of the world for you. 

“Perfect timing,” he says, patting the space beside him with a grin that’s equal parts teasing and gentle. “I was about to start a movie without you and pretend I didn’t.”

You laugh, your heart lighter already. And as you cross the room and curl into his side beneath the blanket, it’s not the movie that matters. It’s the feeling that you’re safe here, with him.

And for the first time in a long time, that’s more than enough.

***

The boardroom is quiet when Seonghwa walks in the next day.

He’s always early, by design. It gives him time to breathe, to set the tone, to sit at the head of the glass table with everything already in place. His laptop is open, a black pen lined up perfectly beside his notepad, and his eyes skim the agenda, though he already knows it. But his focus isn’t on the day’s schedule.

Not yet.

It’s still on you.

Not the way you looked when you walked into his apartment yesterday. Exhausted, crying, your whole body weighed down by things you hadn’t said yet, but the way you looked curled up against him hours later, asleep on his couch, tucked into his side beneath a blanket like you’d always belonged there.

You had cried. You had kissed him. You had let him hold you. He’d kissed the crown of your head.

And he didn’t sleep much that night.

Not because you didn’t let him, if anything, you were warm and quiet, breathing slow against him. It was the way you felt in his arms that kept him awake. Like he was holding something fragile and sacred. Like if he moved, even slightly, you might disappear.

In the morning, you stirred first. Groggy and quiet, blinking sleepily against his chest before murmuring something about needing to go home and change before work. He offered to take the day off. Said he could cancel everything. That he didn’t care.

But you shook your head with a tiny smile. Insisted that he go.

You even teased him for hovering. Called him “overly attentive.” He’d rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but when you leaned in and kissed him goodbye, soft and sleepy, he nearly asked you to stay.

But you left. And he watched the door long after it closed behind you.

Now he’s here. Under sterile lighting. A boardroom full of chatter. And across the table sits the man who used to be your husband in everything but legality.

He walked in laughing - with her - like it’s just another Thursday. The girlfriend is practically attached to him, all smiles and subtle touches, like they don’t work under the same roof. Like they’re not sneaking around as if people haven’t noticed. Seonghwa doesn’t look up immediately. Just lets his fingers tap softly against the side of his coffee cup. 

Measured. Calm. Focused.

“Morning,” your husband says with that too-casual tone, like everything’s perfectly fine.

“Morning,” Seonghwa replies, flat and cool.

He doesn’t do anger like most people. It simmers quietly in him, contained, controlled. He doesn’t lash out. He remembers. He watches. He files things away until the time is right.

Today’s not the day.

But he is watching.

The meeting starts. The others file in, small talk filling the space. Projector humming, documents shuffling. Seonghwa opens the presentation. Keeps his voice even.

“I’d like to keep today’s meeting brief,” he says, voice smooth and low. “We’re focusing on timelines, project deliverables, and accountability.”

His gaze flicks to your husband. The pause is barely a second too long. “Especially accountability.”

There's a flicker in the man’s expression. He shifts in his seat, coughs once like he’s about to make a joke, but one look from Seonghwa shuts him down. The meeting ticks forward. 

Then your husband speaks up.

“I think the delay in deliverables came down to a lack of communication, not really our fault,” he says, flashing a grin at his girlfriend like she’ll have his back.

She does.

But Seonghwa is already leaning forward, calm but sharp. “And who was responsible for communicating that timeline to the vendors?”

Silence.

Your husband clears his throat. “Well… technically, I was. But-”

“Then let’s not redirect blame.” Seonghwa’s voice doesn’t rise. It never needs to. “If you were the lead, you’re accountable. End of story.”

The table goes quiet. The girlfriend shifts awkwardly. And your husband, he looks like he wants to argue but doesn’t dare.

Good.

Seonghwa could say more. So much more. He could talk about how you came to him last night after being ignored for months. How you told him things you never said to anyone. How you almost gave yourself to him. How you let him hold you, warm you, kiss you, keep you safe. How you fell asleep against him like he was the only place you felt okay.

He could say how he’s never going to forgive this man for not seeing you. For making you feel small. For letting you cry alone in your kitchen while he flirted with someone new on the clock.

But Seonghwa keeps it inside.

He lets the meeting run its course. Makes his points. Keeps his composure. Because no one knows what you are to him.

Yet.

And when it’s finally over, he gathers his papers slowly. Closes his laptop with care. And doesn’t look back once.

Because there’s something about seeing that man across from him, pretending like he still owns your heart, when Seonghwa knows what it feels like to have you kiss him good morning, in nothing but his hoodie, after a night of quiet healing.

He’s not done protecting you.

And your husband? He doesn’t even realize he already lost.

TAGLIST: I only have one main taglist, so if you wish to be added/removed, then let me know! xx @lveegsoi  @vixensss  @yizhou-time  @imgenieforyou-boy @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @ateezswonderland @cozypaint @blutiny @aerangi @arigakittyo @femaholicc @queenofdumbfuckery @mingiatz @hwaskookies @vent-stink @desanslogique @taestrwbrry @hannahstacos

[mercurial-chuckles]

Witless Wednesday Thought

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Warnings: Fluff | Hot n Spicy Supersolider | Bucky losing his shit | Bucky defending you | Smitten Bucky | Smitten Reader | Language | Mutual Pining | Kissing | Happy Ending | Language | ~1k | Unbeta'd | Lemme know if I'm missing anything. A/N: I was working on another story when this tiny one sucker-punched my flow of thoughts. I scheduled it for yesterday, but that didn't work out. Anyhoo, here ya go! Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! I do not consent to AI scraping my work. GIF credits to the OP. Divider made by me. Check out my other works: Masterlist

Part of ♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

Indulge Away!

You'd never seen Bucky so angry, so enraged.

As a matter of fact, you barely saw any other emotion flit his face except impassiveness.

Sweet heavens! He was the most devastatingly handsome man you'd ever seen, too.

Normally, you would admire him inconspicuously, just like you did every day when he walked through your part of the office. But you snapped out of your 'Bucky delirium' for Wyatt's sake, who was currently being throttled by the supersoldier against the shelves.

"You don't call her that," Bucky growled.

Holy Shit! It took you a moment to peel your eyes away from that bulging bicep and clenched jaw to make sense of the situation.

One moment, Wyatt thanked you for resolving the system layout issue, 'I knew I could trust you, dawg!' Wyatt said, and the very next second, you saw Bucky throwing him against the shelves. You didn't even realize Bucky was there. He was so fast it made you question your senses.

Bucky must have misunderstood. As much as he'd adapted, James Buchanan Barnes was still a man rooted in a different era. Modern slang still tripped him, you figured.

"Please," you pleaded hurriedly, unsure how to actually intervene.

Wyatt coughed, stunned, his feet dangling as he struggled in distress.

"Bucky," you said, scared out of your wits. He looked down at you intensely, and you quickly took a small step back when you realized how close you were. As much as you silently pined loved Bucky and had imagined him doing wild things to you with that very same rage on countless occasions, you were, very realistically, intimidated at the moment.

"Please, Bucky," you whispered.

Bucky seemed to snap out of his trance as he blinked, his expression still rigid. He released Wyatt, who stumbled and fell to the floor.

Wyatt crawled away a little. Bucky stepped closer and sneered down at him, "Apologize. Now." He warned.

As much as you enjoyed your friend's sense of humor, Wyatt was so out of his depth sometimes, and you were sure his penchant for saying inappropriate shit would be the end of him. Because after all that just happened, he wouldn't shouldn't have said "Are you serious?"

Wyatt was a personality, alright! You tried your best to look at Wyatt, but Bucky's tall, broad frame blocked your view.

Bucky chuckled darkly, crouching down in front of Wyatt, who was still sprawled on his ass.

"Take a guess. DAWG," Bucky growled.

This shouldn't be funny.

This really shouldn't be turning you on as much as it was.

Wyatt finally seemed to realize the issue.

Fucking finally!

You wanted to explain that what Wyatt said was just an endearment, but the basic functioning of your brain had been fused.

"Look… I didn't mean…" Wyatt started, his gaze shifting to yours, and you must have looked like a stunned animal.

For the love of God, Wyatt! Shut up and say sorry! You thought.

"I'm sorry," Wyatt finally squeaked, trying to push himself off the ground when Bucky leaned further.

Bucky gestured toward you, "Apologize to her," he ordered.

Your heart pounded wildly. You hoped to stay upright and not fall victim to your dancing nerves.

"Sorry," Wyatt muttered, looking at you, and you felt terrified for him too. The poor guy was freaking the fuck out, and all for what, being cool?

"It's alright," you mumbled awkwardly. If not for the very adult feelings currently coursing through your body for the six-foot-something supersoldier, the whole thing might have felt like Wyatt was being scolded for pulling your pigtails on the playground.

When Bucky rose to his full height, you expected him to dash off. But he didn't. He stayed rooted in place, eyes fixed on Wyatt.

Wyatt, however, finally managed to peel himself off the floor, and he bolted in a jiff.

Good for him.

Not so great for you.

You stood there trembling, flushed, and utterly confused.

Bucky slowly turned to you, and the intensity in his gaze caught you off guard. You awkwardly shuffled back, lost your footing, and staggered. He steadied you, metal arm circling your waist and pulling you forward into his chest.

Goodness, Bucky was tall! He was so strong, all muscle, and smelled divine. The urge to nuzzle into his chest made you blush even more. Luckily, a modicum of rationality still prevailed.

But his eyes were so blue and beautiful you couldn't stop looking into them. He didn't avert his gaze either.

Bucky tilted his head and moved closer, studying your face while your brain buzzed and your ears rang.

"You okay?" he asked, his breath warm against your face.

It was totally unfair for a man to look the way he did.

"You with me, doll?"

That nickname in his raspy voice had your lips parting. Reminding yourself to respond, you put some effort into nodding your head a couple of times.

Noticing his eyes shift to your lips, your heart picked up, and you bit on your lower lip, feeling the pulse thrumming in your entire body. His tongue peeked out, quickly proceeding to lick his lower lip.

What was going on? Were you dreaming? But if you were, why did it feel so vivid? You fully expected to wake up on your couch like yesterday, with the TV running in the background.

Bucky slowly stepped back, removing his hand and taking all your sanity with his retreating touch.

"I..." Bucky began, running his fingers over his stubble and licking his lips again. You couldn't help but stare. His lips were so damn pink, and you really, really wanted to kiss him.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Your brain needed rehabilitation from Bucky Barnes.

"Wanna grab a coffee with me?" he asked.

You heard the words coming out of his mouth, you did, but you didn't quite process them. You just kept staring at him.

When you finally noticed the shift in his expression, his face falling and eyes apologetic, you cleared your throat.

"Coffee? With me?" That was a dumb response, but that was what your self-deprecating self came up with.

Bucky nodded, quite expectantly and hopefully.

"Okay," you managed to say, offering a small smile.

Bucky sighed in relief. Then he smiled, all shy and adorable, and you bet you could faint just like that.

Charming bastard! He was gonna kill you with his looks.

"Thank you," he said, grinning wildly. He felt overwhelmingly everywhere around you. Bucky shuffled, rocking on his feet awkwardly before nodding at you curtly.

"Right. Umm…I'll be here at 5:15," he said, and you nodded, though a bit too surprised he knew exactly when you clocked out.

Bucky took a few steps toward the door, and you stared longingly at his retrieving form. He stopped, turned around, and looked at you for a whole minute. His gaze transfixed you. Bucky strutted toward you and pushed you against the wall, both hands cupping your cheeks, making you gasp at the feel of them, at the feel of him.

"Sorry... I just..." he breathed against your lips, giving you a millisecond of space to push him away--you didn't. Instead, you rose on your toes, hands on his chest. Bucky groaned softly, pressed a gentle kiss to your nose, then tilted your face closer and captured your lips, tasting, nipping. The rough stubble scratched your skin sensually.

And somewhere in the corner of your mind, it became clear that Bucky Barnes, an Avenger, had no reason to stroll through the Technical Analysts' floor except for you.

Leave your thoughts if you enjoyed reading it. 💞✨

♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

If you'd like to be tagged/removed from my works, please do so here.

[jaylaxies]

DARKNESS OF DEVOTION

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, dubcon, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), blowjob, fingering, bondage, degradation, impact play, usage of nicknames, breeding, possessiveness, stalkerish behaviour, lmk if i missed anything.

SYNOPSIS: Never in a million years you could have imagined your polished and perfect boss to have handcuffs in his office, and well, stalker tendencies. You thought you were just an intern for him, but he simply saw you as possession.

WORD COUNT: 2.6k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, loves! i truly have never tried the concept of dubcon before, but this is for @hoondrop who loves possessive hoon and @evermorehoon who preaches head pusher hoon agenda ! i hope you guys will like it :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

You were just the new intern at the firm where Sunghoon worked, him being your boss. You directly answered to him as he checked your progress each day, only—you didn’t know how obsessed he’s been with you from the day one, monitoring your every move, to the point he installed a camera at your work desk to check if you’re not texting any other guy—you were, but, he needs you all to himself.

Then came the night where everyone left the office and he asked you to stay back and do the work he assigned you, ensuring that you’ll get a bonus if you actually end up doing a good job. Little did you know that he’d come out when the office lights would go dim, just him and you in the building, and the handcuffs he had gotten just for you. 

He comes around, leaning against the back of your chair to look into the monitor, so close you could feel the scent of his cologne, his hand resting on your shoulder as he leans in further when he feels you shake under his gaze.

“So, who’s the guy you were texting earlier?” He asked, and you stilled completely, “you do know that it’s not allowed during work hours, right?” He whispered, grabbing your chin, “right?” 

You nodded as if in a trance.

“Y—yeah, I’m sorry,” he only chuckled at your reply. 

“You don’t need anyone when you have me,” he muttered darkly, not giving you a second before picking you up effortlessly as you screamed, taking you to his office room, “shh, don’t make it hard for the both of us, kitten. Be a sweet fucking girl for me, yeah?”

“What—” You asked, suddenly breathless at looking at the man with a sharp jawline, fangs peeking through his plush lips and eyes dark, sweet moles scattered across his face, and specs perched on his ever so perfect nose.  

He kicked the door shut behind him with the heel of his shoe, the loud click of the lock sounding like a final verdict, just making sure that you knew what you had gotten yourself into. You squirmed in his arms, but he didn’t even flinch, holding you against his chest like you weighed nothing, that he needed you. 

Sunghoon set you down gently on the plush leather couch in his office, fingers brushing against your thighs a little longer than necessary. His eyes roamed your body like he was trying to memorize every detail, every inch of you. 

“Good girls don’t lie, y’know?” He said, removing his blazer agonizingly slow, to the point you couldn’t help but stare at his physique, “and they don’t flirt with others when they know someone’s watching, yeah?”  

“I wasn’t flirting,” you whispered, legs pressing together instinctively, rubbing against each other. “Oh, yeah?” He cocked his head, unbuttoning his cuffs, “then why did I see you giggling at your phone like a fucking whore in heat?”

Your breath caught, heat rising to your cheeks at the blatant degradation, “that’s not fair—”

“What’s not fair,” he interrupted, his figure looming over you, “is how much I’ve done to keep you here. You think I didn’t notice the way you smiled at that guy from finance? The way you smile as if he means something to you?”

You tried to look away, but he gripped your chin, forcing your eyes back on him, his voice dropped an octave lower, almost like velvet but with a hint of poison. 

“I’ve been patient, kitten. So fucking patient, but tonight—tonight you’re going to learn who you belong to, okay?”

A glint of silver shining caught your eye—he had pulled the handcuffs from his drawer, dangling them by one finger with a smirk.

Your heart thudded violently in your ribcage, so fast that you feared it would break, “what? No! You can’t just—”

“I can,” he cut you off, “and I will. You can say no, kitten, I won’t stop you. But I don’t think you will. You want this, don’t you?”

You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t say no, your voice failing you, and he had you right where he needed you to be. Your body betraying you, every shiver, every tremble catching his eyes, and lord he thrived on it.

“You’re so scared, aren’t you?” He murmured, crouching down between your knees, his big, slender fingers gripping your thighs, “but—god baby, you’re so excited too, I can feel it. You’re already wet, aren’t you?”  

You hated how right he was, hated that your pulse raced when he touched you, the wrongness of the whole situation just made it worse.

Sunghoon leaned in, lips brushing your ear, “tell me to stop. One word, and I walk away.” He challenged. 

Followed by your silence, just the sound of your deep breaths filling up the room. You didn’t say it, you couldn’t. 

“Yeah? Good fucking girl.” His voice was thick, as if he had won already (he did), and before you could say say anything else, his hand tangled into your hair, rough, no more teasing—and he yanked your head back until your breath hitched and your lips parted with a soft, involuntary gasp.

“On your knees, now.”

It was a request, but an order, and he chuckled at how your legs buckled, your makeup smudged already, blouse clinging onto your damp skin. He wasn’t pretending to be your boss anymore, the evil glint in his eyes no longer hidden by any means. He was something else now, an obsessive, unrelenting man. 

“Don’t,” you breathed out, “Sunghoon, please. I—didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean to be a fucking tease?” He snapped, catching your wrist with a hand and shoving you back against the nearest wall, the frames on the wall rattling with the impact, “didn’t mean to smile at him? I have been the one taking care of you, kitten.”

“You’re fucking hurting me,” you snapped, voice trembling with fear but also fury. 

But Sunghoon only grinned like a maniac, “good,” he said, eyes flicking down to your wrists, where he held you firmly, bringing them to the back so he could handcuff  you hard enough to dig into your skin, “pain means you’re still pretending.”

Your body jerked, trying to push him off with your shoulder, but his reflexes were too fast, he shoved you back again, harder this time, your hands useless behind you. 

“Let me go, you’re so fucking sick,” you glared at him now. 

He leaned in close, nose brushing against yours, his breath hot, “you think I’m the sick one baby?” His fingers brushed between your thighs and right up your skirt, caressing your panties, “then why the fuck are you this wet?”

You let out a gasp, trying to move again but he held your waist to keep you in spot, the other hand now gripping your jaw so tight it ached. 

“You think I can’t see what you’re doing? Acting like a fucking brat now that you have my attention, huh? Pushing me back like you don’t want me,” his lips brushed your ear, voice almost a growl now, “but your body, yeah fuck, your body loves this so much, you need to be out in your place.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re dripping for me.”

He spun you around, forcing you to bend over his desk, cheek pressed against the cold wood. He shoved up your skirt as you tried to kick backwards, but he only chuckled, catching your ankle mid kick to spread your legs wider. 

“Keep fighting,” he murmured, dragging his fingers up your soaked panties, “it makes me want to ruin you more.”

You cried under him, chest pressed to the desk and fists clenching, “you’ll regret this,” you said. 

“No,” he whispered. 

You barely had time to process anything before Sunghoon’s hand tangled in your hair again, taking your head back and bending your body, his breath against your neck. 

“There’s no room for regret here, we’re just getting started, baby.” He moved with control, dragging two fingers against the soiled cloth, “still wet? How fucking cute.”

Then his palm landed on your ass harshly, once, then again, until you were gasping and thrashing around.

“That’s for flirting with the finance asshole,” he groaned, “then this, for not wearing that white blouse I love so much,” he mumbled, as if you had any clue about his favourites. 

Your legs almost gave out as you tried to get out of his hold but it was hopeless, you were cuffed, bent over, and now his palm was making your ass—and he was just getting started. You choked on a sob, the humiliation seeping through as he pulled your panties down with a rough pull, the cold air caressing your skin, his groan vibrating against your back. 

“Fuck, so filthy, your body isn’t even denying it anymore.”

He stepped back for a moment, and you breathed hard when you heard the sound of a belt unbuckling, slow. 

“Sunghoon—” your voice cracked. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped, and you felt something hard smacking against your thigh—his belt. “You lost the right to talk when you whimpered for me the second I touched you.”

You sobbed again, moaning alongside with how wrong it felt to actually like something as twisted as this, you couldn’t even admit it out loud, you simply couldn’t. 

You jolted again, a cry escaping before you could stop it, your legs gave out, wrists still bound behind you, cheeks hot with a mix of fear, shame, and something far worse—arousal that you couldn’t explain to anyone, not even yourself.

Sunghoon stepped in front of you, keeping his belt on the desk, unzipping his slacks like he had all the time in the world.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered. 

You shook your head slowly, “n—no,” you cried. 

That was a wrong move. 

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked hard—forcing your head back until you cried out, your neck exposed, your lips parted just from the force of his grip.

“You’re really testing me tonight,” he growled, stepping closer until the head of his cock pressed against your lips, “you wanna make this harder for yourself? Fine. You’ll choke on it.”

He didn’t wait, he shoved himself into your mouth with one hard thrust, the taste of him flooding your tongue as your gag reflex immediately kicked in. You choked, whimpering around him, but he held your head steady with both hands now, thrusting into your throat like he didn’t give a damn, pushing your head deeper with a low groan.

“That’s it,” he hissed, hips snapping forward, “take it, take it like a good fucking whore.”

Your eyes watered, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth as he used you without pause, his grip in your hair was bruising, keeping you exactly where he wanted you—his personal fuckhole, gagging on his cock in the same office where you’d tried to act professional just hours ago.

“This mouth doesn’t deserve to speak unless it’s wrapped around me,” he said, thrusting deep again. You gagged loud this time, trying to pull back, but he shoved you right back down.

“You hear that?” he growled, staring down at you, your lips red and stretched, your eyes wide and teary, “that’s the sound of you learning your place.”

He held himself there, cock resting deep in your throat while your body jerked, struggling for breath, your cuffed hands useless behind you. Just when your vision blurred from lack of air, he pulled out with a wet pop, strings of spit and pre cum connecting your swollen lips to his length.

You collapsed forward, coughing, drooling, body trembling—completely wrecked, but still wet, still breathing hard, and now looking up at him in a different light, and you gulped harshly in fear now that you knew you liked it, ashamed of yourself for thinking so. 

“Aw,” Sunghoon mocked you, “already broken, kitten. You’re my doll, aren’t you?” He asked, petting you like a dog.  

You didn’t even flinch at the touch, only looking at him as you took in deep breaths. He tilted his head, watching you with that same hungry intensity you’d seen behind his glasses in the office all along—only now, the mask was gone. He didn’t have to pretend anymore.

“You liked that,” he said quietly, almost in awe, like he was marveling at the mess he made, “and you’re still fucking dripping.”

“Please—”

“Shh, open,” he parted your lips with his thumb, going down to collect your wetness, and he pushed his soaked fingers into your mouth. You gagged, humiliated, as the taste coated your tongue with embarrassment. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, thumb brushing your cheek in twisted praise as you struggled, “see? I knew you’d learn for me, just for me, hm?”

He stood again, towering over you, then pulled your handcuffs—forcing your upper body upright. You cried out, the strain on your arms sharp, your blouse now torn and half hanging off your shoulder.

You didn’t respond, you couldn’t. Your lips were parted, chest heaving, eyes wide and dazed as he spun you around to face him. Still cuffed, still naked from the waist down, legs trembling.

He gripped your chin and forced your eyes up to his. “Say it,” he whispered. “Say you liked it.”

You shook your head weakly, shame crawling up your spine. “I—I didn’t—”

He scoffed, eyes darkening, “I said,” he muttered, “say. You. Liked. It.”

You tried to speak, but you couldn’t. You tried to turn away, but his grip on you tightened.

“I—I liked—”

“Look at your cunt,” he dragged two fingers back between your thighs and shoved them in without warning, “still wet and clenching. Still desperate. You’re not even pretending anymore.”

You cried and he only smiled, finally kissing your lips, tasting himself on your tongue, tasting the tears that stained your face, and swallowing your moans. Sunghoon found this romantic, as if it was all he had ever wanted. 

“Don’t cry now, kitten. You’re not sorry, you’re ashamed because you liked it. Because you wanted it, because you want more.”

“I hate you,” you whimpered, breath hitching as your thighs trembled again.

“Yeah? But I fucking love you,” he mumbled, sick and twisted as your body gave into him, moaning his name like a desperate slut. 

That’s when he pushed you against the desk, giving you no warning before thrusting into your leaking little hole. You screamed and he laughed. 

“Say my name, go on.”

“Sunghoon—fuck please—Sunghoon,” you moaned. 

“That’s it,” he hissed, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding into your hair, “my good, dumb little slut, all fucking mine, you’re mine, mine.”

He fucked you rough, it was deep, fast, and filthy. The mirror shook on the table shook and you cried out, drool slipping past your lips, every thrust breaking you down further.

“This is all you’re good for,” he growled, pounding into you so hard the glass fogged with your breath, “getting ruined by the man who fucking owns you, yeah?”

You came fast, embarrassingly fast, cunt clenching around him with no resistance, no fight, just pure ecstasy and embarrassment. 

But he didn’t stop.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hips snapping, “you’re so fucking perfect like this. Look at you—my favorite toy, crying and creaming all over my cock like you’re meant to do this, to be my fucking doll.”

He took your moans in, kissing you again, and again, till he couldn’t breathe anymore. 

“You were made for this.”

And then he filled you again, his hand on your jaw, forcing your face to the mirror, “Look at yourself,” he panted, cock twitching inside you, “look how pretty you are when you break, when you submit to me, when you let me breed that pretty cunt of yours.”

“Sunghoon—” you mumbled against his lips. 

“Yeah? You’ll look so good all swollen for me, for me, yeah?”

You nodded weakly, making him smile, “you’re fucking mine, do what I say now, hm?”

And you did exactly what he asked for—for you to be his.

Only his.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[sahisan]

— third door on the left, marked “debate club"

two professors. one office door away from kissing or killing each other. maybe both.

feautuing . theoretical philosophy professor!anaxa x practical philosophy professor!fem!reader.

tags . university au. nodern au. suggestive. semi-public sex mentioned/referenced. (you make so many) sex jokes. fluff. ooc. soft anaxa. comedy. mild language. academic rivalry but make it professors. mentions of alcohol use. workplace romance. bickering as a love language.. flirting. so many philosophy terms (that i barely understand). wc 3.1k.

a/n . a friend dabbed me into philosophy and i folded. the handjob joke was initially hers but i couldn't help myself. im not a philosophy major so if you are please forgive me for any mistakes, my friend who actually majored in it helped me a small bit and im still confused. lmk if there are any typos. enjoy <3

"your handwriting is offensive," you mutter, turning the paper sideways, then upside down.

anaxa doesn’t look up from his tea. "you still read it, though."

"barely. is this supposed to say 'conscious' or 'conscience'?"

"both."

"no."

"well, that’s why i'm a philosopher."

"i also am one. your last footnotes gave me a headache."

he finally looks up, raising an eyebrow. "then my work here is done."

"so you’re telling me," you, crossing your arms. "that again, you rewrote the entire reading list after midterms?"

"no," he replies, not looking up from his notes. "i rewrote it because of midterms. frankly, your students deserve better than whatever you assigned them. i read the discussion boards."

"you’re on the discussion boards?"

"i moderate three of them. and i banned a user who called you hot. you’re welcome."

you pause and tilt your head. in the end, you mumble "...that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever done for me."

"don’t get used to it," he mutters, knowing you're exaggerating. "they spelled ‘epistemological’ wrong."

your bring in tea and fruit for your students. anaxagoras brings nothing and cancels half his office hours because, quote, "philosophy isn’t learned in panic, it’s metabolized in silence" (half the admin hates him).

his and your students are in quiet (jealous) war. campus hallway signs include:

"vote: whose exam will kill us with more dignity?

team prof [name]: understanding through application

team prof anaxagoras: no multiple choice, only anguish"

you and anaxa both pretend you don’t see the posters.

you end up stealing one and taping it to the wall in your office. anaxa responds by using it as part of a pop quiz question.

the students get back by gifting both of you matching mugs that say: "#1 philosophical threat". anaxa mutters about not joking with philosophy majors anymore. (they're literally his students and he's starting to get scared)

him and you sit on opposite ends of the philosophy department’s couch like it’s some kind of contested ground.

you're reading ethics of desire upside down. he’s pretending not to notice.

"why do you hate me?" you ask, out of nowhere.

"i don’t."

"then why do you argue with me in faculty meetings like we're at the fucking olympics?"

"because you like it," he looks over, holding eye contact.

"and," he adds after a beat. "because you're brilliant. and you're wrong about kant."

"i’m never wrong about kant," you frown.

"see? fun."

the dean told you it's mandatory to be in the department-wide group chat. anaxa has notifications off, your have them on, and neither of you participate until absolutely necessary.

today, someone sends a meme about faculty budgeting. it evolves quickly into... something.

@ecologywillsurvive_vaelis: what if we held a bake sale for chalk

@anaxagorastheory: what.

@cai_NaOCl: maybe we should sell naming rights to the new ethics wing. welcome to the ‘crypto.com moral foundations lab’

@anaxagorastheory: if you sell naming rights to a lab about ethics i will personally remove my eye patch and stare into your soul.

@praxis[name]: we’ve talked about this, the patch stays on in public spaces

@praxis[name]: and cai i'm going to rename your organic chem wing to 'half baked molecule lounge' if you bring up the ethics wing again

@anaxagorastheory: i’m just saying. the thread of reason is fraying.

@praxis[name]: your self-control is fraying

@anaxagorasthery: say that in office hours.

@epiphany_uni_admin: hi everyone! just a reminder that this is a professional chat

"you're late," you say without looking up from your laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard like you've been waiting specifically to outpace him.

"i was grading," anaxa responds, setting down a stack of painfully annotated printed philosophy 201 essays with a grimace. "your TAs let them write in first person and i nearly hemorrhaged."

"they’re freshmen, let them think they matter," you reply, finally glancing up at him.

"dangerous ideology for a praxis professor."

you hum. "dangerous man to say it."

"you’re wearing my coat," anaxa notes when he opens his office door and finds you there.

you blink once. then, "i spilled tea on mine."

he steps aside to lt you in, utterly unsurprised.

"also," you add as your shrug the coat tighter. "yours smells nicer."

he doesn’t say anything for a moment.

"would it be weird if i told you i hope you spill more tea tomorrow?"

you smile, mischievous.

"depends where."

"you always write in pen," your mutter, flipping through the latest draft of his paper with red ink bleeding into printed black. "only pen."

"i trust my convictions," anaxa replies, deadpan.

"you misspelled 'epistemological' three times after getting distracted by me."

"i was testing you."

"were you?" you ask, eyes narrowing. "you wrote 'epistomagical' at one point."

he shrugs, takes a sip from his coffee. it's black and bitter and you know he hates it.

you bite back a smile. "idiot."

"your handwriting is worse," he mutters. "at least i try."

"i write in runes," you say, prim.

"those are hearts above your i's."

"...runes of war."

"do you always grade with red?" you ask, leaning over his desk, some random paper in hand that you forgot about long ago.

anaxagoras doesn't look up, "of course. red forces clarity. confrontation."

"you wrote 'source?' in all caps across a paragraph about love in greek tragedy."

"and?"

you smile, as if holding back laugter. "it was a quote. from you."

he looks up. slow. silent.

you set the paper down with calmness he swears one can only see in fiction.

"next time, check your own citations, professor."

wednesdays are mostly alright. you walk into the staff lounge and there he is: anaxagoras. at the coffee machine. holding two cups.

"brewing double today?" you raise an eyebrow.

"i had to offer the students a choice," he says, pressing the start button. "do you want to study logic, or do you want to study… your soul?"

"you’re so terrible," you say with a sigh, taking the second cup from him. "you know no one really wants to study their soul?"

"not true," he replies, smiling smugly. "they want to study it, they just don’t know it yet."

he takes a sip of his coffee, watching you. you narrow your eyes.

"and what's this 'quiz' you’ve decided to torture them with?"

"it’s not a quiz. it’s a philosophical challenge," he says, moving to the small whiteboard. "i ask them to define their own existence without using ‘i think, therefore i am'.

"you’re evil," you raise an eyebrow.

"i'm not," he argues. "they tiktokified descartes!"

"they what?"

anaxa finds a note slipped into his bag.

it’s folded on thick paper, smells like your hand cream.

in that unmistakable handwriting, hearts a constant above the i's like it's a love letter (maybe it is):

"you didn't have breakfast this morning, so i left a little something in your office

<3"

he stares at it for five minutes straight. then folds it again and tucks it into his coat pocket. the 'little something' ended up being a bento of salad and two bacon sandwiches.

he won’t ever admit it, but he carries it for the rest of the week (and he will absolutely not start mimicking your handwriting later).

it's a faculty party. you're in black silk and sipping terrible wine. anaxa's next to you, lecturing someone on metaphysical paradoxes. again.

"you could’ve worn a bow tie," you murmur when he leans in.

he looks at you like he’s already undone. "and you could’ve worn less loud heels if you didn’t want me distracted."

your fingers pause on the stem of your glass. "hm. touché."

"that’s french."

"you speak french?"

he leans closer, "i learn languages for spite."

you lick your teeth to hide a grin. "is that how you learned to say je veux te baiser in the hallway last week?"

anaxa chokes on his wine.

"you're in my office," he says, arms crossed, glasses half-lowered.

"your sign says 'office hours clpsed unless it's a crisis'. this," you say, dropping a thick bundle of papers on his desk, "is a crisis."

he glances down.

"this is… a peer review."

"your peer review. you cited a wikipedia page in a footnote."

anaxa doesn’t look even remotely sorry. "it was cited ironically."

"you teach epistemology, anaxagoras."

"and irony is a form of knowledge."

you blink. “oh my god. leave."

"it's my office."

"i don't care, leave."

obvious enough, your offices share a wall (god bless the dean and the department chair). it’s the point of thus where, sometimes, you hear anaxa recite passages of obscure texts to himself aloud; sometimes in ancient languages.

today, it’s greek.

"…lógos eikós," he says. "reason is likely—"

"and so is the fact that your argument on practical virtue is still wrong," you call through the wall.

"it was metaphorical!"

"so is your whole career!"

you hear the sound of a book being thrown at the wall and smile.

"you rearranged my bookshelves," you say flatly, arms crossed, eyebrow arched.

"i reorganized them by author. the fact that your copy of moral letters to lucilius was next to the hungry caterpillar is—"

"—educational range."

anaxagoras doesn't smirk, not really, just sips his coffee like it's the antidote to your nonsense.

"you’re impossible."

"and yet you still broke into my office to alphabetize my praxis."

"it was unlocked."

"it was not."

(it was.)

anaxagoras gets sick and refuses to take time off. you physically remove him from the building.

"i’m fine," he rasps.

"you’re a hazard," you say, throwing his bag over your shoulder. "you coughed on three students and almost knocked over aristotle's bust in your auditorium.

he slumps into your car without protest. later, you make him him soup and read aloud from his own research while he’s half-asleep just to see if you can make him correct your pronunciation mid-fever. he does.

"you’re ridiculous," you murmur.

"you’re warm," he mumbles, drifting.

"i’m human."

"keep being that."

@epiphanyconfessions

"i’m just saying. if prof [name] leaned over my desk the way she leans over prof anaxagoras’s desk i too would forget how to spell my own name"

@epiphanyconfessions

"anybody remember that one time she called him 'anaxagoras' during a rare joint lecture and he straightened up like a victorian man seeing ankle for the first time. someone sedate them."

@epiphanyconfessions

"i heard prof anaxa say ‘consent is the highest form of logic’ and i haven’t been the same since. like sir i just wanted to pass intro metaphysics please don’t take me apart like that"

you're the one who finds the twitter account. it's an automated bot which quite literally posts all the gossip in the university. unsurprisingly now, 70% of what you've seen include you and anaxa.p

you scroll for three minutes in silence, then turns your phone around so he can see it.

"i think your students are obsessed with me."

anaxa doesn't look a single bit impressed.

"well, at least i've managed to teach them something about attention to detail."

you end up paired for the damn symposium panel because someone in admin has a cruel sense of humor.

"just be civil," the dean says, sipping bitter coffee as the two of you stand on either side of the projector.

"civil as in—" you start.

"no blood on the mic."

anaxagoras doesn't smirk, not quite, but there's a twitch of something near his mouth when he says "i'll keep my composure if she does."

"i never lose my composure," you shoot back.

his eyes go to your mouth. "you have. once."

your silence is thin and sharp and full of fuck yous that do not get spoken.

the dean groans. "if either of you fucks the other on the mic, i swear to god i'm retiring."

you're walking out of the symposium together, the cold air catching your hair just right.

"they misquoted kant four times," he mutters, voice slightly hoarse

"only four?" you tease. "you’re mellowing."

"i’m trying not to ruin our evening."

"oh?" you glance at him. "are we having an evening?"

he stops walking and you take two steps before realizing he’s still behind you.

"…yes," he says. "if you want."

your expression warms without looking at him. "i do."

he doesn’t say anything else, just walks beside you the rest of the way, hands close, not touching.

it's christmas eve and everyone’s a little tipsy in the lounge, even the department chair.

anaxa is holding a glass of deep red wine and trying not to react when you make a joke about morals and oral fixation in the same sentence.

later, outside under the garden lights, you speak.

"cai told me your students think we're sleeping together," you say, watching the breeze catch your own hair.

"we are."

"they suspect, anaxagoras."

"then they’re late to class."

you laugh, quiet and unguarded, the kind of laugh that makes his shoulders drop. he reaches out to fix the collar of his your coat.

"you're soft when you're smug," you murmur.

"you're smug when you're soft," anaxa retaliates.

"you’re in love with me."

"that too."

youre both tired. the grading deadlines loom and the campus heating is out again.

"sit down," anaxa mutters, patting the seat next to him on the floor of his office.

"your carpet has chalk dust on it."

"so do your pants, professor."

you sigh as if you're bearing the weight of the world on your lone shoulders and sit.

there's no light in the office but the blue glow of his screen, and the soft static of the heater humming through the vents.

"i'm not rewriting the conclusion," you murmur, almost asleep on his shoulder.

"i know."

"but i miiight let you footnote me."

he hums, head tilting against yours. "if you do, i'll stop quoting you out of context."

"...maybe don't. i sound smarter when you do it."

"you are smart."

you hum, noncommittal. anaxa sighs.

anaxagoras is having a deja vu; a really strong one.

you're seated across from each other at another faculty mixer (he complained about seeing too many people outside his lectures in the past three months on the way to this one). you're wearing black, sharp eyeliner, and a gold pin in the shape of a crescent. anaxa is halfway through a whiskey and trying very hard not to look impressed.

"you know they’re calling us ‘the debate club’?" you say, lazily stirring your drink. "it’s not flattering."

"they only say that because you get louder when you’re wrong."

"you’re still upset i said plato would’ve folded if someone gave him a nice handjob."

he tried to mask laughing with accidentally choking on his whiskey.

he definitely is having a deja vu. (he loves it with you.)

you kiss once in the archives.

it’s a study break, technically.

you're sitting on the dusty desk. he’s standing between your legs. you're surrounded by books about love and logic and ancient epics, and you don’t speak about the copy of whatever book you were supposed to help him with looking for.

later, as you fix his messed up hair again for him, when he’s too flustered to do it straight, you murmur,

"you lose arguments better than anyone i've ever met."

he leans into your palm where it cups his jaw.

"i only lose to you."

"i hope so."

he sees you grading in the courtyard and sits beside you, uninvited.

"your first-years are circulating a petition."

"ah. is it about the essay extension?"

"no. they want you and i to 'just publicly kiss already and not torture us anymore'. their words."

you don't pause your hand. "did you sign it?"

"...maybe."

you're more often in his office than you're not.

"if we get caught—" he starts, breathless.

"it's your fault. stop kissing me like you’re too lazy to drive us home," you cut him off, sliding your hands into his hair.

"i’m not built for scandal," he breathes against your mouth.

"you’re wearing an eyepatch, anaxagoras."

"...it’s academic."

"so is this," you say tilting his head back, climbing into his lap as your hand loosens his tie. "let me study you."

"you’ve been reading the same sentence for five minutes," he murmurs.

you don’t look up; your head is resting against your palm, pen slack between your fingers. "because it says 'therefore, subjectivity is inherently sus'."

anaxagoras blinks. "they submitted that in ink?"

"typed," you sigh. "with a footnote that just says 'as per amongus'."

he leans over, eyes scanning the page, then: "…expel them," flatly.

"i can’t expel them."

"i can."

"you teach philosophy, not moral hygiene."

"same thing, if you ask the right philosopher."

you're sprawled on the old couch in his office, shoes off, his coat folded under your head, flipping through his notes. your eyes hurt. you flip the papers upside down.

"you really wrote a thirty-page rebuttal on the concept of divine intervention just because i said some gods might have been hot?"

"you said apollo could get it in front of our students."

"and you wrote a philosophical hitpiece," you counter.

"i cited my sources," anaxa grumbles, tired.

"you are absolutely insane."

"we're pretty much equal in terms of that, i believe."

he brings you coffee exactly how you like it before every morning seminar. you make his lecture slides look presentable. you pass post-it notes through interdepartmental mail—yours are gold-trimmed, his are so painfully neat. once, someone intercepted one. it just said:

'you were right about that footnote. bring your smugness and your mouth to my office at five. i need to be convinced again.'

you're reading in the living room. anaxa's half-asleep next to you, head on your lap, one hand absently tracing lazy circles on your thigh.

"what are you annotating now?" he murmurs.

"your latest essay."

"and?"

"you cited yourself fourteen times."

"i trust my sources."

you hum. "sure you do."

"if we were set to constantly teach a class together," anaxa says quietly, "we’d probably get fired."

you yawn. "i think we’d start a cult."

"that too. if we didn't already."

a hum. “a sexy cult."

he laughs, soft and tired and you want to kiss him until your lips remember his skin for the rest of your life. "you’re the one who brings up sex every time we talk about curriculum."

"it’s integral to ethics and aesthetics."

"and not philosophy?"

"it is philosophy," you grumble. "do you talk about pleasure in your lectures?"

he pauses. "…not directly."

"coward."

he squeezes your hand. "i love you."

"i know," you say. "even if your syllabus doesn’t include eros."

he smiles into your hair. "next semester."

[uarmygguk]

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ . . . in which your wait has finally ceased, rather unexpectedly so as he surprises his way right into your arms on christmas eve

starring, navy officer!jungkook x kindergarten teacher!reader tags/warnings, fluff, waiting for your husband on christmas eve, very much inspired by that one line from sabrina's 'slim pickins', sweet couple alert, lower case intended word count, 1.1k note, i'm saur very sorry guys this is also an old piece (guilty). i wasn't able to finish up 'miles from home' on time 🫠. this was a cute lil request i received when i was on another acc so yeas bye lovers hope you enjoy 😘 permanent taglist : @ggukivrse @bangatanily @koosluvss @hobiseightbracelet @seokjinthescientist @nochuel

masterlist • taglist

“dada! look what i drew for you!”

the little girl’s giggle melts in your ears as soon as you step out of the classroom to drop her off. ara, your brother jin’s daughter was such a bubbly child, closely resembling her dad’s and mom’s soft features.

“jin, hi” you waved at him, nudging ara to her dad as she scurried towards jin’s open arms.

“hi, oh my baby who is this handsome man you’ve drawn right here” he sweetly appreciates his cherubic daughter, cradled in his arms, your smile widens seeing your brother so happy.

“ara, would you draw one for me as well?” you coo into her ears, petting the silkiness of baby hair that is tied up in a cute ponytail.

“yes auntie! i’m going to draw one with uncle jungkook and you!” she pats onto her bag as it clinks with all the colorful pens and papers stuffed inside.

“oh sweetie auntie would love that!” your mind, though, wanders off to jungkook, who is probably in the middle of the vast ocean, working for his country, making everyone proud.

but you sure miss your high school sweetheart, the black haired doe-eyed boy you met years ago, who’s now your husband. 

“__, if you ever feel alone, maybe i can drop ara off at yours sometime so we can getaway a little you know.” he winks lightly at ara’s mom, seated in the car, oblivious to the snarky comment he just made.

“i would love to have ara over, but not this christmas.” your lips curved into a smile.

“jungkook will be home on the 25th, tomorrow. though it’s late, i can still have him with me for a whole month!” you felt like a schoolgirl again, one who is head over heels for that one boy.

“finally that little dork finds time to spend with his wife. literally after dating for almost half of your lives and even marrying you he’s off in the middle of the sea, visiting once in a while like santa.”

jin’s brotherly instincts make you laugh as you shake your head

“i’m proud of him, jin. and i can wait, work here at the kindergarten and even play with ara and would still not feel alone because i know he’s with me everytime.” you say, matter-of-factly as jin mocks you again for acting like a teenager (as if he’s any better), but you didn’t mind, because these fleeting moments of thinking about your husband made you feel alive each time.

“okay then, it’s already evening! see you at christmas dinner tomorrow, and you better come with jungkook.” he “threatens”, making you helpless and thus ushered him to the driver’s seat, waving goodbye to ara, as you walk back to your own car, ending the day’s work at the kindergarten earlier than usual, to start christmas preparations.

you couldn’t wait to add final touches to the tree, and to countdown until the time jungkook comes home, when it would ultimately feel like one.

__

“that’s perfect!” your best friend jiah chimes through the phone, as you proudly show off the apple crumble recipe you were trying to replicate.

“it’s a bit too sweet for my liking though, but jungkook would surely love it.”

“yeah yeah lovergirl, isn’t your nice man home yet?” jiah asks as she is engaged in decorating her tree, busily shuffling through a multitude of gift boxes lying in front of her.

“he’ll only be here tomorrow, but before our usual dinner anyways.” you put the dish away in the refrigerator.

“okay then, i have to put up the star now, it’s long overdue.” you bid goodbye to jiah, sending her a pouty flying kiss, receiving nothing but an eye roll in return. typical.

picking up the gold and red star laying on the centre table, you heave a deep breath before trying to reach the top of the dark forest green christmas tree, already decorated.

after much struggle, but efforts in vain, your short figure hurries to the store room in search of a wooden stool stacked away somewhere.

10 minutes passed, as your defeated form emerges from the store room and leans against the door, high on contemplation as to how you’d accomplish this mission.

“never back down, angel.” you feel your senses coming alive, hearing a voice so familiar, a mix of aftershave and bleu de chanel ringing in your nose, a pair of sturdy arms wrapping around your waist lifting you up to bring you eye-to-eye with the top of the tree, holding you steely on the broad shoulder.

you had him memorized at this point. it was jungkook. his white uniform clad body, fit and firm, fluffy black hair that brushed against your exposed waist through the flimsy material of the red tank top adorned.

say, you’ve taken his words in, quietly leaning forward, placing the star oh so perfectly on the tree, pleasantly but not obviously surprised as you wanted to tease him for a while longer. you knew he’d come to you, even if a day earlier than informed and spend time with you like this. and display of strength? you were a sucker for that, only from the man who’d not let a scar touch your body when he had you close.

he brought you down from his shoulder, immediately towering your frame, eyes finally meeting after almost an year.

“hi” he sweetly muses, making your heart topple over and above.

“hi” you smile, looking up at him.

“can i kiss you?” 15 years of togetherness and here he is, asking you for consent. oh he’s your man, jacked and kind. not the boy you knew years ago.

“please do”

conversations, so short, but they’re still profound. he presses a sweet peck onto your lips, a feather touch, making you yearn for more.

a moment.

coming back up to look into your orbs for a second, he dives back again to your petals, like a man starved, foreheads pressed together, relishing the minute the both of you get engrossed into the kiss. he dips down, and learns you in a way no other can. pulling you closer it seemed like he was going to kiss you until christmas eve. you wouldn’t mind that.

“merry christmas, darling.” he whispers, voice hoarse and warm on the cold winter day.

“i missed you, love. merry christmas.” you kiss his nose in response, as he scrunches them. hands smoothing through the locks of your hair, he stares at you for a minute.

“i’ve made your apple crumbles, extra sweet this time though.” your eyes search his, as he chuckles.

“i think i’d want something just a wee bit more delightful than the desert you made, though.” 

his eyes gleam in mischief, placing you on his lap, cradling you close to his chest, hands ran on it’s own accord, exploring his broad shoulders.

“then let me be your sweetener, babe.”

[izzyy-stuff]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

IN WHICH after looking for an apartment for months you finally find a nice place, but it's too big and expensive for you to live alone in it so you ask her two best friends, hoping they could help you out.

pairing– childhood bsf!Choi Soobin x fem!reader

featuring– original characters, members of txt

genre– Fluff, Smut

contains– foreigner!reader, jealous!soobin, childhood friends to lovers, best friends to lovers, roommates au, streamer!soobin, streamer!beomgyu, uni romance, sunshine!reader, she has a lively personality, Soobin is in love, like really desperately so, Soobin has a license and a car, one sided pining, Soogyu shipped as a joke, jujutsu kaisen mentioned

smut warnings– inexperienced!Soobin, dry humping, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex + creampie, breast play, missionary, oral (f. receiving)

word count– 20k

playlist

↪ izzy speaks... I'm finally getting to my old ideas!! I was so excited to write this (even though I struggled a bit as I actually don't play many games myself) and I'm really happy with how it turned out! I hope you'll enjoy it just as much <3

only lightly proofread!

The first memory of Soobin you have is from when you were ten, freshly moved into town, with no idea how to say anything but a short and simple introduction. You were in Korea for a month, still trying to figure out the alphabet and all the school paperwork in your hands written in what seemed like hieroglyphics as you walked through the school hallway, trying to find your way around. 

“I give up,” you groan, your hands falling back to your sides as you look around, hoping for any clue on where the principal’s office might be. You debate calling your dad, asking him to pick you up and begging him in the car to turn down his promotion after all and take you back home because it’s hell here, but you stop yourself. 

Instead, you take a few eager steps forward, determined to reach the office no matter what. But to your luck, you find yourself on the other side of the school, blinking quickly as you try to make sense of the situation unfolding in front of you. Three guys hovering over another boy who keeps his eyes on the textbook in front of him, trying to make it look like he isn’t intimidated by them. But you notice the slight flinch of his arm when one of them raises his voice. 

You frown, trying to find the right words. Whatever you could say, you weren’t sure if they would understand you. You knew there wasn’t a high chance of them speaking English, and you definitely didn’t know how to tell them to get lost in their language. 

You’re not sure how much time passes when you just stand there, trying to figure something out but eventually, they notice you. You watch them exchange some words that sound like curses, completely ignoring your presence as they press him further, demanding something from the poor boy in the chair. 

“Leave him–” Before you can finish your sentence, a strong voice interrupts you, the Korean echoing through the empty classroom. It makes them all back up without hesitation and you turn around as well to see what was so scary behind you. Your eyes meet with an older man who you can only assume is one of the teachers. He asks you something but you just shake your head, trying to explain that you don’t understand him. It’s useless because before you can even open your mouth, his attention redirects to the boys behind you, talking to them instead. 

After a short moment, his eyes travel back to you, tilting his head slightly as he observes you. “You’re the new foreign student?” Your eyes widen at his English, immediately nodding. You introduce yourself, asking him about the principal’s office. “Yeah, you’re all going to the principal’s office,” he mumbles, yelling at the boys again. You blink a few times, watching them pass by and grumble something under their breath as they follow the teacher outside. 

The boy from the chair walks last, his head down and his bag swinging on his shoulder. He looks around your age, even though his height suggests otherwise. You quickly catch up to him, asking if he’s okay. He glances at you, scanning your features before nodding. You smile, offering him your hand with a memorized introduction. “Soobin,” he hesitates before grabbing your hand, frowning a bit as you shake it. He doesn’t say anything else and you don’t either, just quietly walking towards the principal’s office, preparing to get questioned about what had happened. 

You quickly learnt the names of the three guys in your first week, everyone telling you to stay away from them when they heard about the incident you walked in on. Apparently, ‘Hyunwoo and his dogs’ as the kids liked to call them, were quite famous for their behaviour. From drawing on all the possible tables in school to more violent rumors, one you might have saved Soobin from that day. 

You haven’t seen him since, but you found other friends. A girl that you were seated beside (Thank you, seating chart, you say to this day) and her older sister Jisoo, who you later found out was in the same class as Soobin. She helped you understand a lot of materials and kindly explained everything she could within her English skills, while Jisoo took you under her wing in the social sense, telling you everything about everyone and making sure you knew who to avoid interacting with. You were grateful to both of them, you still are to this day. 

The second time you met Soobin was almost six months later in the hallway when you were rushing to your next class and accidentally bumped into an upperclassman. You mumbled an apology and tried to push past but it was already too late.

 “Watch where you’re going,” Taeyang, one of Hyunwoo’s ‘dogs’ pushes you, and before you can stop the fight from happening, a group of kids creates a circle around you, some of them cheering and some whispering about what is happening. You sigh, running your hand through your hair. 

“Foreigner is fighting with Taeyang in the hall right now!” 

Soobin immediately looks up from his textbook, eyes widened as he watches everyone in the class stand up and rush outside to see the situation for themselves. “Oh god,” Jisoo mumbles from behind him, quickly pushing through others to get there first. He stays seated for a while, waiting for everyone to leave before standing up and making his way out. 

The argument is already at its peak when he arrives, trying to make his way through the crowd of people. 

“Let’s go,” Jisoo tries to tug at the hem of your shirt. “Stay out of it, Yoon,” Taeyang warns her immediately, taking a step forward. You swallow a lump in your throat as you look up at him, ready to take whatever is coming. “This little bitch thinks she can push me and then tell me to watch where I’m going.” 

“That’s enough.” You jerk your head to the side when you hear the voice, your brows furrowing in confusion as you watch Soobin place his hand on Taeyang’s shoulder and push him back. “You’re crossing the line. Leave.” It’s obvious from the look in his eyes that he wants to argue, fight maybe even, but with the way Soobin towers over him and stares him down, it leaves him no other choice but to back up. 

“You think you can scare me?” 

“I don’t care if you’re scared. What I care about is that you’re going too far. Especially since you’re in the wrong,” he states calmly, casually moving to stand between him and you, covering both you and Jisoo from Taeyang’s sight completely. You blink a few times, confusedly glancing between your friend and the giant in front of you. 

“Soobin doesn’t do fights,” Jisoo leans in to whisper into your ear. “No matter if Yeonjun or Beomgyu are involved, he avoids these situations no matter what.” 

“Whatever,” Taeyang mumbles after a moment of hesitation, pushing past the crowd to get away. You watch him confusedly, trying to figure out how. How could he start a whole fight with you just to run away the second another boy shows up? 

“Are you okay?” Soobin’s soft voice takes you out of your thoughts, making you look at him again. “Yeah,” you nod. “Thank you, Soobin.” 

After that day, it became somehow easier for you to find your way into his life. Joining him at lunch, going to his class during break to spend time with Jisoo but eventually just striking up a conversation with him instead. You just wanted to befriend him. 

And you did. 

Everything turned into a routine shortly after, from eating together and spending time with each other during breaks, to studying together and hanging out outside of school as well. You often accompanied him to pc cafe’s and laughed as he argued with his best friend over who was better, and in return, he always paid for your drink. It was comfortable with Soobin, and you soon started calling him your best friend. 

For Soobin, it was the same. It was comfortable hanging out with you. He could be himself without having to worry about what you thought of him. He watched you get along with his friends, immediately blending in, he admired you as you told him about your day when he walked you home—also a routine you started after a few months when you realized you live in the same direction—and he was there for you every time. No matter how bizarre your problem was, he was there, and he made sure you understood that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

But over time, his affection towards you started turning into something more. He started noticing the little things you did, like scratching your nose when you tried to focus on something really hard, or how you always doodled in the corner of your notebook when you were zoning out. He tried not to pay attention to those things at first and ignore the weird feeling in his stomach every time he talked to you, but he eventually realized that wasn’t an option. 

So, he let his feelings get the best of him. He’s never done anything about them, but they were there and he knew about them. 

Jisoo caught onto them as well, he believes. She never said anything to him about it or you as far as he knew but it was obvious from the way she looked at him whenever he was around you. Still, he acted as if he couldn’t see it, deciding it would be for the best to just ignore whatever he was feeling so he wouldn’t ruin your friendship. 

“Soobin!” The fifteen year old turned around immediately at the familiar voice, his eyes wide with question as you ran into his class, the biggest grin on your face. “Yes?” 

You hold up a piece of paper in front of him, beaming like the ray of sunshine he knows you as. “Look!” 

“I told you you’d do great,” he smiles back, scanning the A- on top of the page written in red ink with his eyes. “It’s only thanks to you! God, I could kiss you right now!” You exclaim, almost tearing the paper in half from excitement. 

Please do. His eyes soften but he doesn’t say anything, biting back the words that hang on the tip of his tongue. He can’t. No matter how much his heart wants to, he knows better than to be reckless and admit his feelings in the middle of the classroom just because you said something you don’t even mean. 

His hand moves up on its own, coming to cup your face. But when he realizes what he’s doing, he quickly pats your head instead. That was the first and last time he was close to confessing or taking a step forward he could never take back again. He couldn’t. The more he watched your smile, the more he knew he had to hold back his feelings no matter what. 

“Let’s go, you should get to your next class,” he mumbles instead, averting his eyes from you. Get a grip. 

You blink at him through your lashes but nod. He’s right. You do need to get to your next class. You just wanted to show him your accomplishment first. After all, he was the one who sat with you and explained all the material to you for hours. “I’ll see you later then,” you smile, hiding the test result back into your bag. “Our place?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, something you can’t quite name flickering in his eyes. 

The soft ringtone echoes through the room, the flash making Soobin glance to the side. “Fuck,” he mumbles, focusing on his monitor again. “I need to take this, you got it for a second?” 

“Yeah, go ahead,” his best friend, Beomgyu, answers, and Soobin immediately mutes himself, giving an apologetic look into the camera for his watchers. He notices a few comments asking who is calling him and what kind of call he is receiving but he doesn’t answer any of them, picking up his phone and turning off his webcam. 

“Soobie!” You exclaim and his lips immediately curve into a smile. “Yeah?” He asks, relaxing in his gaming chair. “I found the perfect apartment!” You explain and his eyes immediately widen in excitement as well. You’ve been looking for weeks now but everything was always either too pricey or far from university. “Yeah?” He’s pretty sure you can hear the smile in his voice but he doesn’t care. “Is it close?” 

“Super close! I could even skate to school if I wanted to.” 

“You? Skate?” He snorts. “Like on a skateboard?” Just the idea of seeing you trying to balance a skateboard was hilarious to him. He knew that if you put your mind to it you could do it, but until then, he was free to imagine you falling over and over again. 

 “I could learn from Ryan,” you roll your eyes. Right. There he was again. Soobin’s smile falters for just a second, his mind drifting to the “absolute love of your life” as you like to call him. You knew him for just a little over a year and somehow, he managed to become one of your best friends. Which, if he was honest, was pissing him off. 

It felt as if you were incapable of leaving him out of conversations and even though he knew he had no right to feel this way, he was jealous. 

“Sure you could. Call me when you do so I can come along and see you fall over and over again.” And so I could make sure he doesn’t try anything. 

“As much as I love you, you’re such a brat sometimes,” you shake your head at him, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. “You got that from Beomgyu.” 

“Take that back,” he fake gasps, making you laugh. There is a smile on his face again right away, his eyes softening when he listens to your laugh. “Anyway, that’s not why I called. I was thinking…maybe, we could come look at the apartment together again tomorrow. It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. It’s definitely too big for me to live there alone.” 

“Are you suggesting I move in with you?” Soobin blinks a few times, trying to figure out if this is a joke or one of his many dreams coming true. There was no way, right? “And finally get to escape Beomgyu’s nasty room? Please.” You laugh on the other side of the phone, again. 

“He probably wouldn’t like hearing that.” 

“Good thing he is in his room with headphones and I’m muted then.” 

“Wait, shit, am I interrupting your stream?” Your eyes widen immediately, apologies slipping from your lips. “It’s fine,” he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. But…you’re serious, right? This isn’t one of your jokes?” 

“I swear on my family that I seriously want to move in with you,” you assure him. Soobin could feel his smile growing even wider, looking at his computer screen to make sure he was still muted and his webcam was off. He wasn’t sure how he would explain his smile if he weren’t. He must have looked stupid smiling like a ray of sunshine just because his best friend was calling. 

“Isn’t it still too big though? Don’t you want to look for something smaller?” 

“I’m actually planning on calling Ryan right after we hang up. He’s been looking for a place as well so we could kill two birds with one stone. I wanted to ask you first, though.” 

“Ryan?” Seriously? What was with his luck lately? “None of your girlfriends?” 

“I do not want to be the reason you start hooking up with Jisoo or any other of my friends for that matter. So no, none of my girlfriends,” you roll your eyes, chuckling. You think it’s a joke, it was meant to sound like that, but before you can add to it, he interrupts you. “I don’t want to hook up with any of your friends,” he grumbles, taking it more seriously than he should. You frown, “Okay? Sorry, I didn’t think you would actually hook up with my friends.” 

Soobin sighs, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure what’s gotten into him all of a sudden. “No, I’m sorry. So, tomorrow you said? What time?” 

“Two pm! I remember your schedule correctly, right? You don’t have a lesson then, do you?” 

“Nope, two pm is great,” he nods slightly, looking at the chat under his stream. They were currently laughing at something Beomgyu did but he wasn’t sure what it was. “I should get back, looks like Beomgyu did something stupid.” 

“Yeah, of course. Have fun, I’ll join in a bit,” you smile, saying your goodbyes before hanging up. Soobin rests his head against his chair as he places his phone down again, groaning quietly as he hides his face in his hands. He wasn’t sure if this little arrangement you had in mind would work but he wasn’t going to miss out on his chance just because of some one-sided beef he has with Ryan. That would just be stupid. 

So the next day, he finds himself standing in front of the address you provided him at 1:50, nervously looking around and trying to find you with his eyes. Instead, his eyes fall on a boy, his fluffy hair falling in front of his eyes. “Hey,” he calls at Soobin, making him force a smile as he waves at him awkwardly. “You got here earlierly.” 

“Yeah,” Soobin shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Didn’t want to make a bad impression before even moving in.” Ryan chuckles, nodding, “Didn’t expect any less from you.” Soobin frowns, trying to figure out what that even means. He doesn’t say anything else though, simply joining him by his side. 

Ryan is around Soobin’s height, slightly taller actually. His hair is black, catching small waves at the ends, and his eyes are a lighter shade of brown than Soobin’s. He’s in all black, like every time he’s met him, comfortable in his loose shirt and jeans. Every time they stand beside each other, Soobin wonders if that’s what you’re into. He looks down on his outfit, a white button-up with light blue jeans, a completely different aesthetic from Ryan’s. 

Soobin shakes his head, snapping out of his thoughts. He wasn’t even sure what he was worried about. Sure, Ryan might play the guitar, make music, skate, possess English skills that he could only dream about and be a foreigner (which was also the reason you started talking to him in the first place), but that didn’t mean he was going to steal you from him, did it? 

It doesn’t take much longer for you to arrive as well, greeting both boys with a hug. Soobin’s hands wrap around your waist, carefully inhaling the soft scent of your hair as he lingers in the hug for a little longer than he should. You giggle as you step back, smiling at them warmly. “Should we then?” 

You follow the owner around the empty house, pointing at certain areas and chatting about how you could decorate it and where to put what furniture. Both guys just keep nodding to you, figuring it was for the best to just have your moment. You don’t mind. 

“Okay, I’ll let you look around on your own. Just shut the door when you leave and send me a text,” she squeezes your arm lightly with a warm smile and you nod immediately. She’s sweet and has been treating you with nothing but respect and kindness since she laid her eyes on you so it was easy to return the favor to her. 

“I will. Have fun on your date,” you smile, prompting the guys to say their goodbyes as you watch her leave. “You two have gotten close,” Ryan comments with a snort, making you roll your eyes. “Yeah well, I want to live here so it’s normal to have a good relationship with the owner, don’t you think?” He shakes his head at you but doesn’t say anything else. 

“Well then, what do you think?” You look between the two boys, hopeful. Soobin smiles at you immediately, unable to hold back when he sees the spark in your eyes. “It’s really pretty,” he mumbles, his eyes soft. You beam right away and it makes him even less sure if he was talking about the apartment or you. “Yeah, you weren’t lying when you said it was, and I quote: ‘the only and greatest apartment to ever exist.’” Ryan laughs. You resist the urge to kick him in the leg and decide to turn to Soobin instead. 

“I’ve heard the connection is great and the internet doesn’t crash or anything, so you could stream and play games without any problem. And! We could set your console in the living room and play together on the couch, that’d be fun, right?” 

Soobin nods, “Yeah, that sounds great.” 

“So you guys are happy? We can talk about the arrangement and settle everything? Please say yes, I’m going insane over here.” Both boys chuckle and nod, making you jump up immediately. “Okay, in that case what do you think about…” 

The three of you walk around the apartment once again, deciding where to have the kitchen corner, which bathroom will be yours and which the boys, and then also assigning the bedrooms. Ryan immediately took dips on the smallest one, saying something about it being cozy and just spacious enough for him and his music, which left you and Soobin. 

“It’s yours,” he says calmly as you stop in the largest room. You glance up at him, shaking your head. “No, no, you should have it. You need space for your computer and all, you should take the room. I’m fine with the other one,” you assure him but he doesn’t budge, trying to use the gentleman card and saying you should have the first pick as the female. Jokes on him, you immediately played around with his words and said you want to pick the slightly smaller one. He wanted to convince you to have it but before he could open his mouth again, you ran off. 

“What is it?” Soobin blinks as he sees Ryan leaning on the wall beside him, watching them with a smirk on his face. He shakes his head, glancing towards where you ran off before looking back at Soobin. “Nothing,” he answers, walking off with a knowing smile. Soobin frowns, sighing before following you. 

And just like that, after a little paperwork and preparation, you slowly start moving in, until the apartment is full of boxes, furniture, books, and laughter from all three of you. It doesn’t take long for you to ease into a comfortable rhythm, dividing chores and setting some ground rules to avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings or fights. 

It all feels easy, honestly. You spend every morning in the kitchen together before leaving for school and then relax together again over dinner. It often ends up with all of you disappearing into your own rooms and studying or simply doing your own thing, but every once in a while, you stay longer, playing games on the TV with Soobin or watching a movie with Ryan. You always laugh loudly with them, and it makes you appreciate them a tiny bit more. 

“This is the last time I let you pick a game,” Soobin mumbles, staring at his computer screen, headphones on and his stream on his other monitor. It’s been a good two hours and half of him and Beomgyu playing roblox games and every time it was Gyu’s turn to pick what they were going to play, he came with some terrible, cringe one, full of thirteen year olds telling them both they were fucking their moms. It was interesting, for sure, to see what was going through the heads of kids these days. 

“Not my fault you don’t know how to have fun.” Soobin rolls his eyes, looking over at the chat. Half of them were sending a laughing emote, while the other half encouraged Soobin to play more, having fun while watching him suffer. “Let’s play something normal, please.” 

“Chat, this is him just saying he wants to play doors. Again,” Beomgyu scoffed. “Fine, we can play but if you die at the beginning again I swear I will drive to your apartment and choke you to death.” 

“Warning received,” Soobin snorts. “Let’s finally get through level 100, it’s embarrassing at this point.” Beomgyu couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t the first roblox stream they did together and somehow, they always ended up playing at least a few rounds of the game but never made it past level 80. Either Soobin died too soon by the stupidest death possible, or he lost the run at level fifty. Either way, Beomgyu always ended up alive alone, with little to no chances. 

The game started and like always, it took them more than way too many tries to have them both alive by the time they reached level seventy, both hiding in their own closets as Soobin swore he saw the light flicker. Beomgyu was skeptical about believing him at first but as the closet shakes and a dark shadow runs in front of him, he sighs in relief. 

“Okay, let’s just stay alive for a bit longer,” Gyu comments, running to a door with number seventy one. It’s just a few doors later that Beomgyu dies on accident, leaving Soobin alone. There’s a loud curse that leaves his lips and it causes you to peek into his room. Soobin notices you in the corner of the stream recording and pushes his headphones off while keeping his eyes on the game as he gets through another door. “Sorry, am I being too loud?” 

“No, it’s fine,” you shake your head, smiling awkwardly as you come closer. It’s not the first time you’ve appeared in one of his videos but it still feels embarrassing. You wouldn’t say you’re exactly fit for the camera. “What are you playing?” You ask, answering yourself when your eyes land on the screen. “Hey, Beom,” you lean even closer so you reach Soobin’s microphone, giggling slightly. 

Soobin watches you, really hoping no one is about to kill him because he can’t focus on anything other than your figure beside him. He is in so much trouble. 

Your name leaves Beomgyu’s lips like a prayer, almost begging you to take over and push through the levels which has the chat laughing on the side. You look at your best friend to see if Gyu is exaggerating or if he really needs help. He only gives you a shy smile, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Alright, get up. You’re getting benched,” you laugh as he stands up from his chair and you sit down instead, greeting the chat warmly before focusing solely on the game. 

Soobin brings another chair to sit on, leaving it in the background as he watches, a part of him absolutely in love as you interact with his chat and push past the levels, the other part feeling angsty. You’re right here, making him feel like the luckiest boy on the planet but at the same time, you’re as far as you can be. 

His cheeks grow hotter as he notices a few of the watchers commenting how cute you two look together and some of the new fans asking if you’re his girlfriend. He doesn’t answer any of them but they sit in the back of his mind, thinking about them, about you. You don’t seem to pay them any attention but he wonders what you think of them, of the thought of you and him together. 

Somehow, in the blink of an eye, you manage to pass level one hundred and Soobin snaps out of his thoughts as your loud cheer echoes through the room. You turn to face him immediately, excitement written all over your face and he gives you one of his proud smiles, wishing to do nothing else but wrap his arms around you and never let go. 

“Okay you can die now, I want to play something else,” Beomgyu says, making you turn again which causes Soobin’s face to fall for a brief second. “I should go. I can’t steal Soobin’s job entirely,” you laugh, the sound sending a wave through Soobin’s body. Yeah, he was fucked. 

You really do leave shortly after and Soobin ignores all the comments asking about you, playing for another hour before he ends the stream, sighing loudly as he leans back in his chair. 

“You should work on your expressions,” Beomgyu comments, the sound of a drawer opening and then closing again heard in the background of their call. “What are you talking about?” Soobin asks confusedly, frowning. “My chat has been asking me about you and her. Apparently it’s ‘super obvious’ with the way you look at her.” 

“I don’t look at her anyhow,” he argues and a scoff leaves Gyu’s lips. “Say that to the fans and editors because I’ve seen you, it is super obvious. I want to tell you you have nothing to worry about, I really do, but who knows what she’s going to think when people start shipping you together and pointing out you are head over heels for your best friend.” 

“They already ship you and me together. They do think I’m head over heels for my best friend,” Soobin rolls his eyes, trying to make a joke out of the situation. Because Beomgyu was right, and he wasn’t sure how he would explain it to you if you believed them. 

“Babe, I thought we were keeping it a secret,” Beomgyu gasps dramatically, making him laugh. “And also, we divorced the moment you decided to move out and live with your side chick and arch nemesis.” 

“Okay, stop calling them that.” 

“Why? Am I speaking lies? You literally told me and Yeonjun that you were going to die living with your biggest enemy and jerking off material in the same house.” 

“I didn’t! Stop calling her those weird names, god,” he groans, closing his eyes from embarrassment. Beomgyu laughs on the other side of the phone. “Then do something so I can finally call her your girlfriend because this isn’t even funny anymore.” 

“I’m hanging up,” Soobin proclaims, completely ignoring his best friend and the incredibly stupid topic of conversation. “Have a good night.” 

“Coward!” Beomgyu accuses him with a laugh before saying his goodbye and hanging up. Soobin sighs, staying seated in his place for a while longer before finally deciding to stand up and leave his room to get something to eat. 

He comes into the kitchen right when you’re in the middle of plating a pizza on three plates, making him raise his eyebrow as he comes closer. “I didn’t know you brought pizza.” You look up at him and smile as you hand him his portion. “Not me. Ryan did. His date bought it apparently,” you wiggle your eyebrow teasingly. Soobin blinks quickly to hide the surprise on his face, holding onto the plate with his two pieces. “I didn’t know he was seeing someone.” 

“It’s a secret, act like you don’t know or else he’s going to kill me. He said it’s top secret information but who would I be to keep anything from my favorite best friend?” You lean closer to him, whispering with a soft giggle. You pull back and smirk, “don’t say that to anyone either, though. I can’t have them know you are my number one.” 

Soobin feels like he stops working for a second. Your perfume reaches his nose, already making him weak in the knees. And as if that wasn’t enough you keep saying things that mess with his head. Things that definitely aren’t good for his mental health. He isn’t a psychiatrist but he is sure that if he attended therapy the first thing they’d tell him would be to stop thinking about you like you’re his soulmate and distance himself. 

“Also, Ryan said he’s going to be out tomorrow night so we’ll have dinner without him.” Soobin hesitates, taking a bite of his food as he watches you. “Do you want to go out then?” He asks, a little more hopeful than he should be. “We can get something to eat and do something fun.” 

“That sounds great,” you beam immediately, grinning widely as you pick up the two plates from the counter. “Late night drive around with some maccies is what I’ve been craving.” 

“Okay, then we have a plan,” he smiles and you walk off to Ryan’s room, letting him know you’re going to watch a movie together and that if he needs anything, he can just text you. 

He doesn’t. Because all he can think about for the rest of the night is that Ryan is seeing someone who isn’t you. The day couldn’t get better. 

“Come here,” you shake your head, making your best friend look up. Soobin blinks a few times but listens, closing the distance between you. You undo his tie, causing his eyes to widen. You don’t say anything, simply redoing it to make it look better. It’s been his thing, wearing button-ups with a tie every day and making it look casual but somehow, he still managed to mess up. It was kind of cute, honestly. “There,” you smile, taking a step back to take a proper look. 

Soobin’s surprised face makes you chuckle. “Let’s take a picture, you look nice today,” you encourage, pushing him towards a body sized mirror in the hallway. He has to blink a few times before he takes out his phone but still doesn’t say anything, trying to calm himself down. This isn’t a date, he has to remind himself every time you look up at him with those sparkly eyes and make his heart race just a bit faster. 

He wraps his arm around your waist and you lean closer to him, smiling into the mirror as he takes a picture of the two of you. You ask him to send it to you immediately after it’s done and he just nods, mumbling a quiet “will do,” before grabbing his car keys and stepping into his shoes. 

You grab a jacket from the hanger, following Soobin out of the door as you rant about being hungry and how it took him forever to end his stream and dress up. He doesn’t argue with you because he knows you’re right. It’s already way past 10pm. He knows he is lucky he offered to buy otherwise you might actually choke him. 

You sit in the passenger seat, scrolling through your playlist as you try to find something fitting the vibe while Soobin drives off, taking you to the closest McDonalds like you asked the day before. “Oh. My. God. This is it!” You exclaim and Soobin glances at you, raising an eyebrow curiously. When Home by Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros starts playing on his car’s speaker and you show him the playlist you’ve made with him when you were in high school, his eyes soften. 

“That was definitely one of my most played songs a few years back,” he mumbles, taking a turn to the right. “And it was your fault because you loved borrowing my phone for music.” You giggle, placing the phone down and looking out the window. The sun has long gotten down, now replaced with a night sky full of stars. It was quiet, the only sound interrupting your thoughts the song you put on and occasional cars in the other line. 

Soobin only stops the car once he gets to the drive through, lowering the music so it’s barely audible. You don’t even get a chance to speak up before he is already ordering, making sure to get everything you could possibly want. You just watch him, admiring him from your place. It’s easy with him, comfortable, and every time you see him act so boyfriendable, you wonder why he doesn’t have a girl already. You know this is exactly what girls search for in guys, you aren’t an exception. After Jisoo pointed it out one time, you realized you always looked for a piece of your best friend in the guys you dated. 

“Anything else?” He turns to you, the softest smile on his face and you just shake your head, your lips curling into the same stupid grin. “Okay, that’ll be all then,” he says happily, slowly driving the car forward to pick up the drinks. He puts a coke in the middle of the two of you before handing you a milkshake, placing his own beside the coke. 

The happiness is obvious on your face as you get your hands on the food and Soobin drives off, trying to think of a spot to park the car so he could eat as well. “God, this is exactly what I meant when I said I want to have late night car dates with you back when we were little with no idea how cars work,” you take a bite, leaning into your seat. “This is so good.” That’s when an idea flickers in his head, turning the car around as soon as he can. “Remember when we used to hang out at the playground and you’d dream about staying there forever?” 

“Oh my god! And then you’d tell me that’s not possible because I’d catch a cold and die alone because you wouldn’t stay there forever with me! I was so mad at you and cried to Jisoo about not wanting to die alone!” You laugh at the memory. 

“I just wanted to make you go home where you’d be safe,” he proclaims, his eyes focused on the road. “But if it wouldn’t work and you’d want to stay there, I would have stayed with you forever,” he says casually, so simply that you don’t think anything of it because in reality, it’s just a few words. But he is anything but calm as he secretly glances at you in the rearview mirror, hoping to catch something in your expression. You giggle again, sharing the briefest smile with him before taking a sip of the coke. 

He should feel disappointed or sad that his words do nothing to you. He should. If it was him, and you told him you would stay with him forever, he might as well drop to one knee and propose to you immediately. But you aren’t him. And even though he knows you don’t feel the same attraction to him like he does, he can’t seem to feel the sadness or anger. All he feels is happiness. Happiness that despite all that, he can still have you like this, beside him, laughing as you talk about childhood memories, looking equally as pleased as he is. 

Your eyes widen when you notice him parking near the playground you were so obsessed with when you were younger. “It still stands,” you whisper, the sound so quiet you think he doesn’t even catch it. “They’ve made some changes throughout the years but yeah, still stands.” You turn to face him, your expression a mixture of happiness, gratefulness, but also vulnerability because of all the memories the playground holds. His eyes soften, if that was even possible anymore. “Let’s go?” 

You settle on the top of the slide, your legs tangled together as you try to fit into the small space for kids. All the food is placed between you, and the only sounds filling Soobin’s ears are your giggles as you play with your food and tease him endlessly. He takes out his phone and you grin, posing with your milkshake. He laughs as well, putting the phone down beside him as he takes a handful of fries. 

A comfortable silence settles over you, the street lamp casting a soft light over his face. He leans back, watching the sky as if he wanted to count every star possible. 

“Do you ever wonder how we work out?” His eyes flicker back to you, his expression slightly confused. “What do you mean?” 

“Just that…I know people used to think we were a weird duo. Remember when Yeonjun saw us hanging out for the first time and asked you if I didn’t black mail you into dealing with me?” You laugh quietly at the memory, taking another sip of your milkshake. “But then again, I guess you do keep similar types of people around you.” 

“Did you just accidentally compare yourself to Beomgyu?” 

You gasp, trying to sound offended. It doesn’t last long because you end up laughing again. It’s always easy to laugh with him. “I mean, I guess. I don’t know what I’m talking about, honestly. It’s probably the fact we’ve been friends for so long and I already know all your deepest darkest secrets so I can’t ask about that.” 

“You mean like the fact you practically asked Taehyun to marry you the first time I introduced you?” He teases and your eyes widen as you slap his hand. “Come on! Don’t go revealing my secrets like it’s nothing! Plus, we were eleven and unlike your other friends, he was the only one treating me like a lady instead of your little punching bag!” You complain. 

“Definitely not my fault Yeonjun and Beomgyu were immature little shits,” he laughs. “Yeah, well, they still are,” you huff even though you know it’s far from that. Yeonjun has turned into a gentleman who helps old people carry things when he sees them struggling without a second of hesitation, and Beomgyu has been nothing but respectful to every woman he’s met since you slapped him for making an inappropriate joke back when you were fourteen. 

Soobin shrugs, unable to hide the smile on his face, “It’s good you’re always there to put them back in their place then.” You roll your eyes playfully, your eyes narrowing in mischief that doesn’t pass by unnoticed by your best friend. But before he can ask what you’re thinking about, you quickly untangle your legs and sit at the top of the slide, glancing at him over your shoulder. “First one on the swing wins.” 

The night is filled with laughter and stupid jokes as you move around the playground. You get to the swing first, partly because you gave yourself an advantage, but mostly because he has no desire to win. He does get down as well though, and ends up lazily swinging you back and forth while you talk about how school is going and he tells you about today’s stream. It’s intimate, and anyone walking near would think you’re on a date, but the thought doesn’t even cross your mind for a brief second. 

Soobin can’t say the same thing. Because with every brush of his hand on yours, every joke you crack, every memory, and every smile he gets from you, the more he has to remind himself that this is just a casually friendly hangout and he has no right to think of you in the way he does. If he allows himself to believe anything else it won’t go nicely for him. Because no matter how much he wishes to have you more than he already does, he knows it’s not possible. 

“I think we work out because you’ve always just been you around me without being worried about what I’d think and I’ve always admired you, knowing I’d do anything for you just to keep you in my life.” 

The words come out before Soobin can think them through. It’s raw, so vulnerable that he can’t bear looking you in the eyes afterwards, turning around and walking back to the slide to grab all the trash you left there. You blink a few times, smiling like a little kid as you watch him comfortably reach for everything when the memory of little Soobin flashes into your mind and you remember how much he struggled to reach it before. You’ve both surely grown a lot. 

“We should get back, it’s late,” he mumbles, still avoiding looking you in the eyes. You don’t point it out even though you’re confused on why that is and follow him to his car, quickly dozing off as he drives off and Everyone Adores You (at least I do) by Matt Maltese from your high school playlist plays in the car. 

You’re not sure how you got to bed last night but you don’t exactly care either. All you care about is that your makeup is wiped off and you can get ready without cursing at yourself for sleeping without doing your night routine. 

You join Ryan in the kitchen with a warm greeting and he gives you an awkward smile, immediately making you narrow your eyes as you question what happened. Sure, he wasn’t exactly a morning person but that never stopped him from smiling for real when he saw you. He sighs, a sound so heavy and tired you know whatever he’s about to tell you isn’t going to be good. 

You sit on the couch and talk about his date from last night, the English echoing through the apartment. It was always easier for the two of you to talk in English as you could express yourself better and get the emotions out right, especially if it was just the two of you and you didn’t need to worry about leaving anyone out of the conversation by them not being able to understand you. Normally, if you were having a conversation in English and Soobin joined you, you’d try to switch to Korean as quickly as possible, but this time it just didn’t feel right. So you let Ryan talk without pointing out the fact Soobin stood on the side, frowning as he tried to make sense of what he was saying. 

“Who has a boyfriend?” He asks confusedly and when the Korean reaches Ryan’s ears, he switches as well. “It’s just–” he sighs again. “My date from last night. I found out good twenty minutes into the date because guess what, he was the fucking cook in the restaurant and I was just there to make him jealous.” 

You feel sorry for him. This was the first time since he moved to the country that he was brave enough to go on a date with someone and this is how it turned out. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug, rubbing soft circles on the back of his neck instinctively. You don’t even realize you’re doing so but Soobin does, and as soon as he sees you like this with Ryan, something in him boils. No matter how many times he reminds himself he has no right to feel jealous, the emotion creeps up his spine before he can stop it. 

“You can’t blame yourself for how things turned out. You couldn’t have known. Next time will be better. I can help you find–” 

“I’m done with dating. Never was for me anyway,” he interrupts you, pulling back so you let him go and he can stand up. “If it was, I wouldn’t be this way.” His last words hit the hardest but before you can call after him and tell him he’s wrong, he locks himself in his room, leaving you frozen on the couch, feeling as bad for him as you can. 

“I thought girls love musicians. He has a lot of fans, doesn’t he? Surely there is someone who would love him in a way he deserves,” Soobin comments as he prepares his breakfast, scanning your face for any signs that you might be looking to love him in that way. “It’s complicated,” you mumble as you join him, glancing at Ryan’s bedroom door. “I just wish he wouldn’t think so badly of himself.” 

Ryan leaves the apartment as soon as he steps out of his room again to get to his morning lessons on time while you and Soobin watch him from the kitchen. You wish him good luck before he can leave and he smiles slightly but doesn’t say anything else, wanting to be left alone as soon as possible. You don’t blame him, honestly. 

“Should we go as well?” Soobin asks, breaking the silence that’s taken over the apartment. “Yeah, I’m just going to run to the bathroom real quick,” you nod, doing as you said before leaving with Soobin by your side. 

You notice a few girls chatting and giggling while watching you as soon as you step on campus but you don’t pay it much attention, convincing yourself you’re imagining it. It’s not until your third lesson that you share with Jisoo that you find out the looks weren’t just in your head. 

“How could you not tell me?” She questions, offended, as she plops her bag onto the chair beside you. You blink confusedly, turning your head to face her. “Tell you what exactly?” You ask confusedly, watching her sit down. “That you’re dating?” She scans your face for an answer before her eyes widen. “Oh my god, you’re not dating!” She gasps, quickly searching for something on her phone. “I thought that you finally got together! God, I got totally fooled!” 

She hands you her phone and your eyes land on Soobin’s new post. He posted last night, shortly after you made it back home. The first picture is of you and him in the hallway, the picture you made him take before going out. You swipe to look at more, your eyes scanning the photo of the food you had, all laid out on the top of the slide, your figure on the side. The next one is the one with a milkshake. It makes you smile. The last one is of the night sky, all pictures put together under one description: Healing night. 

You bite back your smile, your ears catching red as you open the comments. There are girls calling you pretty, some people asking if this is a hard launch, a few asking where the pictures are from, but a heavy amount of the comments are just people saying how good you look together. 

Your eyes widen and you give Jisoo her phone back, trying to figure out what the right words are. “You’re blushing,” she comments before you get the chance to tell her you’re not dating your best friend. “I’m not,” you argue and she eyes you up and down. “Hm,” she hums as if she just understood your whole. “Have you ever thought about Soobin in a romantic sense?” 

“What? No. He’s my best friend,” you shake your head to refuse but for some reason, the thought flickers in your head. Being with him, going on dates similar to last night, having a partner that knows you like no one else, someone you trust with your life. It’d be nice to have someone who’s already so close to you become something even more. But it’s Soobin you’re thinking about, the same boy who watched you on every step of your childhood since you moved, the same boy who saw all your embarrassing moments and showed you that opposite gender friendships were possible. 

It’s Soobin, the same boy who could never think what you’re thinking about right now, so why does your heart race a bit faster at the image of it? 

“So? That’s not a disease, love,” she reminds you and a part of you questions if she just wants to hear you say you’re in love with your best friends. Unfortunately for her, the answer will be no. You’re not in love with him, even though you’re now stuck with the image of dating him in your head. “I never said it was. I simply never thought about him in that sense.” 

“And are you now?” 

“What?” 

“Are you now thinking about him in that sense?” 

You blink, opening your mouth to protest. No sound comes out and you end up closing it again, which leaves her with a knowing smirk. You scoff, opening your laptop instead as you try to focus on anything else. 

Jisoo doesn’t bring it up anymore, obviously pleased with your answer, or the lack thereof, but that doesn’t mean it just disappears like you wish it would. Throughout the rest of the day, there are a few more girls who come up to you just to ask if you’re dating Soobin and each time, you tell them the same thing. “He’s just my friend, we went out because we live together and no one wanted to cook.” 

Every time you say so, they give you a smirk or giggle in exchange before running off again and you know they don’t believe you. For all know there might be a rumor going around the school already that Soobin, the streamer half of this University watches in their free time, is dating you. 

“No, I’m not dating Choi Soobin, the pictures you’ve seen weren’t from our date,” you sigh automatically when you hear someone clear their throat behind you to get your attention. Your eyes widen when you see Ryan, relief brushing over you. “God, you wouldn’t believe the day that I had.” 

“I’ve heard,” he nods, walking beside you. “I talked to Jisoo earlier, she finds it all amusing.” 

“Of course she does,” you scoff. “She’s been trying to get me to admit my feelings or something.” You tell him about your conversation, leaving out the fact that ever since you found out about it, you’ve been unable to focus on anything other than your best friend. And when you thought about it, you couldn’t even blame them for believing you were together with him. 

“Why don’t you confront him about it?” You frown slightly, fixing your bag strap as it slides off your shoulder. “About what? It’s not like it’s his fault we look like a couple in those pictures.” Ryan shrugs. “Well, that’s true but you could ask him about it, find out what he thinks and all.” 

“No, he’s going to think I’m weird for paying attention to things like that,” you whine, making him roll his eyes at you. “I know you, and I know you’re thinking about him so take a step forward and ask him if he’s thinking about it as well otherwise it’s never going to happen. He’s too big of a coward to say anything.” 

“You don’t make any sense,” you mumble, taking out your keys and unlocking the door when you get to the apartment building. “You say that because apparently I’m the only one with eyes. Do you genuinely not see the way he looks at you?” 

You stop midstep, hitting Ryan with your bag on accident as you turn to face him, blinking confusedly. “What?” He sighs, pushing the door open and taking a step inside when you don’t move. “Just focus on his eyes at dinner,” he says, walking off before you can ask anything else. 

He knows it’s not his place to say anything but honestly, he’s had enough of Soobin’s longing glances you somehow never caught. And if there was the chance you would now look at him the same and he’d have to live watching the two of you pine after each other, he’d much rather just tell you about Soobin’s feelings instead of waiting for him to confess. 

Sitting on your bed with a study sheet opened on your laptop is doing nothing to help you memorize the material and after a few minutes, you end up closing it and giving up. It’s unbelievable how much of an influence just one day can have on your whole thinking. You keep replaying the comments in your head along with Jisoo’s and Ryan’s words. 

And then, before you can stop it, you think about how it’d be like if you did date Soobin. Your gaming leveled up with cuddles, kisses and confessions added to the mornings spent together, dates that leave people feeling jealous because of how great he is to you, the sleepless nights full of need replaced with his comfort, his fingers making you finish faster than your own– 

You quickly shake your head to snap back, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. You were never supposed to think of him that way. 

Making your way out of the room again and almost colliding with Soobin as he tries to go to the bathroom is not ideal since you can’t even look him in the eyes but you hope he doesn’t notice. You’re not ready to explain that you’re avoiding him now because, ever since people started thinking you were dating, you haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about him.

You apologize before running into the kitchen, your eyes screaming for help as soon as Ryan turns to you. He simply laughs and shakes his head, paying attention to the rice he is cooking again. “What? You’ve seen a ghost?” 

“This is all your fault!” You complain. “You messed with my head. You and Jisoo both did.” 

“Oh no, is this the part where you realize he is also a man and has a dick he can use?” Your cheeks turn red but thankfully you can stop before your imagination goes wild. “Shut up! He literally lives here!” You whisper yell at him, checking if he’s still in the bathroom and can’t hear you. “You didn’t deny it,” he points out immediately, turning off the heat. 

“I hate you.” 

“You love me,” he corrects with a smirk, making you roll your eyes. “I’m never speaking to him again and it’s your fault, just so you know.” 

“Who aren’t you talking to?” Soobin’s voice makes you close your eyes in regret. “No one, doesn’t matter,” you brush it off, hoping he’ll leave it at that. To your luck, he walks closer to you instead and eyes you up and down. “Are you okay?” He asks, the worry in his voice hitting you. His eyes look broken as well, something deeper behind them. This all because of you? You swallow, smiling at him as you nod, assuring him it’s all good. 

“The dinner–” you start but Ryan interrupts you by clearing his throat, giving you one stern look. “Is going to take a bit longer and Ryan said he’ll take care of it, so can we talk?” You ask even though every part of your body tells you to do the exact opposite and run away as far as you can from this conversation. Preferably pretend you never got yourself into this situation. 

“Of course,” he nods, glancing at Ryan quickly as if to ask if anything was going on. He just gives him a reassuring smile and encourages for the two of you to leave. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? What’s going on?” 

“Let’s sit down,” you say, shaking your head and following him to his bedroom. You make yourself comfortable on his bed while he sits down on his gaming chair, trying to read through you and see what you’re thinking. He stays silent, giving you all the time you need and simply watching you. That’s when you notice it, the look in his eyes Ryan mentioned. There’s something—something you can’t quite name, that makes you feel at home. You weren’t sure what love looked like but you could imagine it being pretty damn close to what you see in his eyes. 

“The photos from last night are really pretty, I’m still waiting for you to send them over,” you start, carefully observing him. “Right, sorry, I completely forgot,” he apologizes, taking out his phone without any hesitation. Your own rings in your pocket and you assume it’s the pictures. “Thank you,” you mumble, playing with your fingers in your lap awkwardly. “No problem.” 

“We should…do it again. I had fun. It reminded me of a lot of memories,” you keep your eyes down but you can still feel his gaze on you as he tries to read you. You’re sure he sees through you but you can’t bring yourself to actually ask what’s on your mind. “I’ve been listening to the playlist as well, it needs an update.” 

He hums, his eyes never leaving yours. “The Shade, Rex Orange County.” 

“What?” 

“You should add that to our playlist,” he explains. 

“What is it about?” 

“Listen and see,” he smiles warmly and you roll your eyes in disbelief. The room gets quiet again and you bite the inside of your cheek so you won’t say something stupid. He shifts in his place, sighing. “If you tell me what’s bothering you it’ll be a lot easier for me to help.” 

You hesitate before sighing as well. “Do you ever read comments under your posts?” You ask, watching his eyes widen. Yeah, he definitely knows what you’re talking about. “Sometimes, I guess,” he says, trying to sound calm. You hum. “The pictures from yesterday…” you trail off, rethinking your words. “A lot of people asked if we are together, and that we’d look good as a couple. Some people asked me about it today as well,” you admit. 

“The fans get like that,” he mumbles, averting his eyes from you. “They keep trying to find anything about my personal life they can. You don’t need to pay much attention to it. After all, they ship me and Beomgyu as well,” he laughs awkwardly and you catch the slight discomfort in his voice. “It’s just what comes with the job.” 

You listen to him, keeping quiet and taking in his words. Maybe he was right. It was just how fans get, what happens when you decide to put yourself out there for the world to judge, but if what you caught in his eyes was anywhere close to what you thought, you couldn’t just drop it. 

“So you never thought about…us? Together?” You ask quietly, your heart skipping a beat when his eyes lock with yours again and you see the flicker of emotion behind them again. It definitely wasn’t just in your head. Something like an attraction was hiding in his eyes and you felt stupid for not noticing earlier. 

Soobin doesn’t answer right away. You can see his throat bob as he swallows, and his fingers tighten slightly around the hem of his sleeve like he’s bracing himself. “I did,” he admits and for a second you feel like your heart stops beating. “But that’s just stupid, right? It’s nothing, doesn’t mean anything. The fans got into my head and I’m talking nonsense, forget it,” he blurts out so quickly you almost don’t understand anything. 

“Soobin, calm down.” He looks at you, vulnerable, and you fight the urge to get up and swallow him in a breath-taking hug. “I’m not saying it’s…wrong, or stupid.” 

“I’m sorry. Forget about it, really. I’m so, so, so sorry.” A part of you breaks when you see him like this, looking like he convinced himself thinking about you in that sense was wrong, that he wasn’t allowed to. It hurts you to see someone so important to you blame himself for something he doesn’t need to because of you. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you assure him, slowly getting up from his bed and walking over to him. You kneel in front of him and hold his hands in yours so he keeps his eyes on you. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind if you did think about me that way,” you smile slightly, looking up at him through your lashes. “Maybe I’d like that.” 

His hands squeeze yours without even realizing, his breath shaking as he comprehends your words. He doesn’t say anything, barely even blinks, out of fear that if he moves even just slightly, you’ll disappear and he realizes it’s all just a dream. 

But you stay, holding his hands as if it’s the most normal thing in the world and there’s nothing to worry about. He exhales quietly, finally closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel. The warmth of your hands, your soft voice as you assure him you’re there and real, and the scent of you that he is convinced he can never get enough of. 

“In that case, I think I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve.” 

Dinner was quiet that night. Ryan tried to ask you how it went and if you’re with him now, but you just brushed him off, stealing glances and smiles from Soobin the whole evening. It was a bit awkward and new, but you didn’t mind. Just knowing you weren’t the only one thinking about it was enough for now. 

You decided to watch a movie with Ryan when you were done eating and even though your attention was now on the movie options, you noticed Soobin’s glare before he disappeared back into his room without another word. It made you blink a few times, almost as if to see you weren’t imagining it. When you averted your eyes from the now closed door, Ryan didn’t forget to mention you were blushing. 

And so, you spent the whole night thinking about what was going to happen now. Would anything really change? Honestly, you wanted it to. For some reason, after hearing your best friend has been in love with you for almost as long as you’ve known him, had a bigger impact on you than you thought it would. And after dreaming of holding his hand and kissing him the whole night, you wanted nothing more than to do so in the morning. 

Soobin and Ryan are already in the kitchen when you wake up and make your way over, sharing a warm smile with them and a quiet “good morning.” Ryan answers you first, greeting you before running off to the bathroom, saying something about being late. Bullshit. Still, you let him do whatever he wants and walk closer to Soobin, your smile more cautious now as you try to see where the line lies. 

Soobin looks at you the same, wary but happy. He leans against the kitchen counter, his eyes flickering to where Ryan just disappeared before landing back on you. You raise your eyebrow, stopping in front of him. You hold his hands carefully, searching for any sight of discomfort before you bring his hands to your waist, leaving them there. The emotion behind his eyes switches immediately, now way more calm and soft. “Good morning,” he greets you, squeezing your waist lightly to make sure it’s real. 

“Slept well?” You ask, gently placing your hands on his biceps. “Yeah,” he nods, the nervousness in his voice obvious. You smile, stroking his arm in a reassuring motion. “What were you planning on getting for breakfast? I’m starving.” He quickly blinks before letting his hands fall back to his side when you switch conversation, making you shake your head. You don’t push him though, watching him as he moves around the kitchen to prepare one more toast for you. 

You grab the plate from him with a “thank you,” when he’s done and jump up onto the counter, encouraging him to come closer to you. He listens, standing between your thighs. You put the plate beside you and cup his face, your breath shaking as your eyes flicker from his to his lips. 

“You can touch me, Soob. It’s okay.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he holds your waist again, careful, like he’s afraid to break you. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. “You won’t,” you assure him gently. “I’ve known you for so long there’s no way you could make me uncomfortable with some physical touch. Hug me, hold me,” you lean closer to him, lips brushing over his ear, “kiss me, ask me on dates, do whatever you want, baby.” 

Soobin shivers under your touch, your words messing with his head more than they should. His breath hitches and his grip on your waist tightens to steady himself. The nickname rings in his ears and his neck turns pink, slowly raising his head to look at you. “Can you say it again?” 

Your smile widens and you brush your thumb across his cheek. “Baby?” You tease him, watching his reactions. “Oh, god, who would have guessed you’d get this cute for me?” 

He blushes, trying not to think much about your words. It was embarrassing. “You need to give me time to adjust. I’ve never…you know I haven’t been with anyone before.” Your eyes widen in realization, “because you were in love with me?” 

He nods hesitantly. “I am. Present tense.” Your hands fall to his shoulders, punching him with your fist gently (it’s more like a caress) as your head drops to his shoulder as well, hiding your face from him. “You can’t do this, that’s not fair,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to get yourself to stop blushing. 

Soobin turns his head slightly to look at you, his breathing uneven as he watches you from so up close. It’s a sight he thought he could only dream about. His hand moves from your waist to your lower back, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. It’s partly to calm you down even though he thinks it’s not going to work, but mostly for himself. He needs to feel you under his hand, know that you’re real and this is now his reality. Because, god, does it feel like a dream. 

You raise your head again, gazing into his eyes. You both hesitate and his hand stops mid movement as he looks at you. He gives you a small nod and you lean closer, pressing your lips against his gently. He kisses you back, even though you can feel how much he’s thinking it all through. You smile into the kiss and just that simple motion is enough to calm him down and allow himself to enjoy it, his lips soft against yours. 

When he pulls back, he looks like you’ve just handed him the stars he thought he could never reach. 

You leave the apartment first, rushing to get to your first lesson with the kiss still lingering in the back of your mind, the feeling of his lips against yours vivid. There’s a smile on your face when you get to class and it takes all your strength to make yourself focus on the new material instead of your best friend. 

Jisoo notices the change as soon as she sees you. Obviously. She smirks as her eyes scan you, trying to figure out what it is that’s different. “You look overly happy,” she says and your grin widens. “I am,” you nod. “What’s the occasion?” 

“I may or may not have kissed someone this morning,” you admit and her eyes widen immediately. “Oh my gosh!” She exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer so others won’t hear your conversation. “It’s Soobin, isn’t it? Please tell me it’s him.” You laugh, nodding, and she squeezes your hand in excitement. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this! I’ve been secretly cheering you two on ever since I saw how he looked at you when we were little.” 

Your eyes widen. “Has everyone always seen it except for me?!” You whisper yell, questioning how you could be so blind for all those years. “Ryan pointed it out as well.” 

“And that’s exactly why I always loved Ryan,” Jisoo giggles. “And? What else? I need to hear everything!” You chuckle, briefly looking around before turning back to her again and telling her about everything. From the way your mind went crazy after she asked you if you’ve ever thought about him in a romantic sense to this point, repeating how cute he is over and over again. 

That’s when you realize the saying “speak of the devil and he shall appear” is very true. Because at the same time, your phone starts ringing, lighting up with Soobin’s contact info and making the flutter in your stomach return. Your eyes soften immediately and you give Jisoo one apologetic look before picking up. 

“Yes?” You ask softly, already smiling. 

“Hi,” his voice is soft even through the phone. 

“What’s up? Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, all good. You’re free for an hour at 12, right?” You blink and nod, for a second forgetting he can’t see you. “I do, I was planning on having lunch then.” 

There’s a short pause but you don’t rush him, calmly waiting for his answer while listening to the faint rustle of movement on his end. 

“Would it be weird if I asked to join you? Wait, no, I mean,” the slight panic in his voice makes you chuckle. He’s cute. “Can I take you out for lunch? Is what I wanted to ask,” he sighs, the relief obvious. 

You bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from smiling like an idiot, briefly glancing at Jisoo. She already has one of her warm smiles on, cheering you on from the side. “Of course you can,” you nod. “That would be great, actually.” 

“Okay, yeah,” he says, voice softening, calm. “What about the restaurant near the library? Yeonjun said that one is pretty good, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Let’s go there,” you agree. There’s another pause, this one comfortable. “Okay,” he repeats, a bit awkward. “I’ll meet you there then?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll see you there.” 

“You’re so sickening, it’s cute,” Jisoo shakes her head with a laugh. You roll your eyes at her but don’t argue. “I hope it works out for you, genuinely. Soobin is nice and we both know he’d go out of his way to take care of you.” You smile sheepishly, your cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, but I’m still worried to fuck it up,” you admit. “We are best friends, we’ve always been.” 

“And that’s not going to change,” she assures you. “He’ll always be your best friend first, but if you’ll let him, I’m sure he’ll gladly take on the job of your boyfriend as well. You’re not going to ruin anything.” 

You nod, taking in her words. She’s right, you know she is. Deep down you know that no matter what, there was nothing that could make you stop being friends with him, but you were scared nonetheless. You never hesitated when it came to relationships, believing that you were either meant to be or not and there was nothing you could do about it, but with Soobin, you didn’t want to risk the second option. 

Jisoo seems to see right through you because she spends most of your lesson talking to you about how amazing Soobin is (as if you didn’t already know that) and how you were going to be even more inseparable as a couple, wishing you all the luck in the world. It seizes your worries, which you’re thankful to her for. 

The restaurant is quiet to your surprise. You expected it to be messy during lunch hour but even though the place is full, it’s calm and cozy. Your eyes fall on your best friend as soon as you step inside, a smile creeping up your lips as you walk to the table for two. “Hi,” you greet him, taking a seat across from him. He smiles back at you, making your heart race faster. “Hey.” 

“Did you already order something?” You ask, immediately regretting how awkward you sound. Was this how it was going to be with him from now on? “No. Waited for you,” he says, pretending to scan the menu. He doesn’t do too well because you catch his eyes on you, stealing glances as if you were still something he could only dream of. 

“What is it?” You wonder, a smile spreading across your face. You feel like a fresh teen experiencing her first summer romance. Maybe that was what you and Soobin were supposed to be a long time ago—teenagers in love who no one believed would last but they pulled through anyway. You could imagine it. Sharing your first kiss with him, spending all those Christmases together as something more than just friends, going on a bunch of dates and thinking you could never be more in love. 

“You’re pretty,” he says casually, watching as your cheeks turn pink under his words. “You don’t have to say things like that,” you shake your head even though you wish he would tell you a lot more. “I want to. I wanted to tell you so many times over the years but always held myself back. And now that I have the opportunity…I want to tell you as many times as I can.” 

Yeah, Choi Soobin knew how to mess with your heart. 

You feel hotter, knowing your ears must be red now as well. “You…” you swallow the rest of your sentence when your eyes lock with his, every word you’ve ever learnt disappearing from your brain. You were in trouble. You avert your eyes, ignoring the tingly feeling in your stomach and focusing on the menu on the table. 

He doesn’t say anything else, his own heart playing games with him as silence settles over the two of you. He isn’t as secretive with his glances now but still tries to keep them low, not wanting to seem like a creep but unable to help himself. He watches you order, talk about an assignment for one of your classes and a new movie that just came out. He doesn’t hesitate asking you if you want to watch it with him tonight, and you don’t waver with your answer either, saying you’d love to do that. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize suddenly, making him raise his eyebrow in confusion as he sips on his coke. “What for?” 

“Not seeing you sooner.” It hits like a dagger but he still shakes his head, setting the glass down. “That’s not something you can control.” You gaze down onto the table, rethinking your words. “I just… You’ve always been so good to me,” your eyes meet his and his heart shatters when he sees the regret and shame behind them. It wasn’t often that he’d see you be this vulnerable. Of course, there were moments in your life that were worse, and he was there for all of them, but knowing he was the reason for your feelings broke him more than rejection ever could. 

“And I will continue being good to you,” he assures you before you can continue. “I can’t imagine the feeling of… why did you keep liking me? You’ve seen my worst, have been the target of my jokes and I’ve never even looked your way like that, it–” 

“You’re smart, so incredibly smart you learned a new language when you were ten just because you wanted your dad to have the job he always wanted, despite the fact you missed your friends and hometown. You care about people and make them feel welcome around you, always doing your best to be nice to everyone unless they’ve done something. You’re confident, funny, talented, and absolutely beautiful,” he says without any hesitation, his words pure, full of sincerity, and it feels like he heals a part of you you didn’t know was broken. “But most importantly, you bring out the best of me. You make me come out of my shell, you help me when I’m lost, and you never for a second doubt me. I don’t think there’s a reason why I wouldn’t have fallen for you.” 

Your grip tightens around your own glass of soda, his words ringing in your ears over and over again. You couldn’t recall a single time any of your exes would have said anything just remotely close to what he just did. He’s been there all along, so perfect and in love with you, and still, you managed to look through him. 

His hand reaches for yours from across the table, giving it a gentle squeeze so you look up at him. When you do, there’s a smile on his face, the same one you’ve only seen him give you over the years—a smile meant just for you. 

It’s the same smile that makes you realize the past isn’t what’s important right now. It’s the fact you’re here now, on a date with your best friend, finally seeing him. And you plan on making the most out of it. 

Once you both finish eating, it’s only a matter of time before you leave. Soobin offers to pay for your meal and you let him, lacing your fingers with his as you step outside. You don’t need to say more, falling into a soft rhythm as you walk through campus hand in hand. It feels nice. And every little smile exchange makes you look forward to how this is going to continue. 

“Come closer,” you urge, eyeing Soobin up and down as he sits down a full seat over on the couch. He turns his head to face you, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. Still, he listens, moving to sit right beside you, his arm draping around your shoulders when you lean to rest on his side. “What did I tell you? You don’t have to hold back,” you tilt your head slightly to look at him and he nods. “It’ll be better after a few days.” 

It’s a quiet promise that makes you smile. You turn your attention back to the Tv as the first episode of jujutsu kaisen starts playing. After getting back home, you’ve all eaten dinner together and then Ryan disappeared off to his room with his nose basically pressed to his phone. You wanted to question him about it but before you could, Soobin’s hand gently rested around your waist and he asked if you wanted to watch the movie you mentioned earlier. You had no choice but to leave Ryan’s mysteries for another day. 

Once the movie was over and half of the snacks you brought for it were eaten, Soobin begged you to rewatch jujutsu kaisen with him, claiming that it was life changing. You realized at that moment, you can’t say no to him. 

So now, you were stuck by his side, watching a show about a teenager eating fingers instead of going to school. 

“Have you ever thought about the fact you and Beomgyu are like Itadori and Megumi?” You wonder, snacking on a bag of chips while watching the two interact. Soobin raises an eyebrow. “Who am I supposed to be in this incredibly wrong scenario?” He sounds almost offended and you have to sit up because of how oblivious he is. Funny, isn’t it? 

“Megumi, obviously.” 

He scoffs, glancing at the screen. “Megumi is the most boring character there is.” Your eyes widen. Now it’s you who is offended. “He’s my favorite,” there’s a small pout on your lips that makes Soobin close his mouth immediately, slowly regretting ever saying anything. “He reminds me of you.” 

He opens his mouth before shutting it again, realizing there isn’t much to save the situation. Megumi really wasn’t his favorite, but what was he supposed to do when you said you liked him because he reminded you of him? “I’d rather you be Itadori then,” he mumbles. 

Your eyes light up again, a winning smirk spread across your face. You move to lay on him again so you can continue watching, this time resting your head in his lap and occupying the rest of the couch with your legs. He blinks a few times, just watching you for a second before brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, carefully caressing your head and playing with your hair, slowly shifting his attention to the show playing. 

He’s not sure when you manage to fall asleep but when he looks at you to ask about what you think of the fight scene happening, he sees your eyes closed and lips slightly parted, your breathing steady. He smiles, lowering the volume of the Tv before grabbing his phone and sending a quick text to Ryan, asking him to bring a blanket over since he can’t stand up right now. 

“She fell asleep?” Ryan wonders as he comes out of his room, phone in one hand, the other carrying the blanket. Soobin turns his head to face him, nodding. “Yeah. Thanks, I would have gotten it myself but I don’t want to wake her up.”

 “All good,” he shakes his head, lingering a little longer than probably necessary, eyeing the two of you on the couch, simply just happy that this is how you get to spend your evenings from now on. Soobin notices, raising his eyebrow confusedly. “Do you have a problem with anything?” His words come out harsher than expected, making Ryan’s eyes widen. 

“Why would I have a problem with anything?” 

“Don’t know. Maybe you’re jealous,” I would be. He doesn’t finish the sentence, he doesn’t need to because Ryan is already pressing a hand in front of his mouth in order to not wake you up with his laugh. “It looks like you’re the one being jealous,” he laughs, glancing from Soobin to your sleeping form again. He thinks of it as a joke, convinced there’s no way Soobin would actually think he’s being jealous over him, but as his eyes scan his expression, he figures that’s not the case. 

“And you’re completely serious right now,” his eyes widening at the realization. “God, you think we have anything going on between us? I was the one who helped her figure out the possibility of being with you.” 

Soobin doesn’t say anything, just watching him, observing. He doesn’t understand. Ryan was possibly the only other boy who’s seen parts of you you didn’t show to other people, the same parts he fell in love with. He saw you in your prettiest dress and even though Soobin was too gagged to look anywhere but on you, he just assumed Ryan looked at you the same way. Because to him, it was crazy that any boy wouldn’t want you. 

Ryan hesitates for a second, rethinking the whole situation before sighing. “Really, there is absolutely nothing you have to worry about when it comes to us. There’s a better chance of Jisoo getting with her before I do.” Soobin’s expression doesn’t change and so he continues. “Remember my last date?” The question makes Soobin frown, unsure what that has to do with anything. 

“A boy,” he admits, his heart feeling heavier as he puts himself out there. “But I’m not–” his throat tightens when the words come out. Except for you, there was no one else he’s told. No one who he would trust enough to share the information with. “No one else knows so don’t–” 

“I won’t,” Soobin assures him quickly when he catches the change in his tone of voice, his built up jealousy and insecurity slowly fading away as he realizes how incredibly wrong he’s been all along. Of course, that’s why you said it was complicated when he asked if there weren’t a bunch of girls who liked him. He feels stupid. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s…whatever,” he mumbles, suddenly awkward. He needs to get away as soon as possible. “If anything just…text me again, I guess.” Soobin opens his mouth to answer but before he can do so, Ryan is already on his way back to his room, not looking back again. Soobin sighs, running a hand through his hair as he looks down on you. “I’m an idiot, huh?” He mumbles, beginning to play with your hair gently again. “Petty, jealous, idiot.” 

You hum in your sleep, shifting slightly which only makes him chuckle. “Looks like you agree.” 

Your neck hurts when you stir awake. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, whining quietly. Blinking a few times, you get your eyes to focus again. They widen immediately when you see Soobin’s head resting against the back of the couch, sleeping. You turn to the side, the Tv turned off already and the coffee table just like you left it before falling asleep—full of half eaten snacks and empty bags. You slowly sit up, careful not to wake him up. He looks peaceful, his lips parted, a bit of saliva rolling down his chin. You chuckle. He’s cute. 

You clean up the mess on the table, humming quietly to a song currently playing in your head. You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep for but when you’re done with everything and check your phone, it’s already two am. 

You come back to the couch, gently pressing your hand on Soobin’s shoulder. “Binnie,” you coo softly, watching him hum in his sleep as he shifts slightly. You smile, you never stop smiling when you’re with him. “You should sleep in your bed,” you say, hoping to wake him up. His eyes open for a second but you’re not sure if he even sees you because they close immediately after, his hand finding yours almost on an instinct. You yelp in surprise when he pulls you closer and you fall on to his lap. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you. You doubt if he even knows what he’s doing. 

Or maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing. That might be the better scenario. 

“Soobin,” you coo again, kissing his cheek gently. “Let’s go to bed. This can’t be comfortable.” You kiss his nose, then forehead, gently squeezing his shoulder again. This time, it actually works and he opens his eyes, blinking a few times to make sense of the situation. “What’s going…” Before he can finish his question, you place another kiss on his forehead. “Let’s go to bed, it’s late.” 

“Will you stay with me?” He asks, his voice a bit hoarse from the sleep. Your eyes widen in surprise, just for a second, before they soften. You cup his cheek, smiling. “Yeah. Yeah, I will,” you nod. His grip tightens around your waist, his head falling to your shoulder as he inhales your scent. 

If this is how he gets every time he is sleepy, you hope he never gets the rest he deserves. 

“Come on,” you get up, holding his hand as you force him up on his feet as well. His fingers lace with yours, following you tiredly as you guide the way to his room. He accidentally kicks the couch on his way but you don’t say anything, chuckling quietly. 

“I’ll change to my pajamas and will be right back, okay?” You turn to him when you reach his room. He nods slowly, his hand falling back to his side. He opens the door, lingering for a second. “You’ll come, right?” You smile again, assuring him you will before leaving to your own room. 

When you get to Soobin’s room again, he’s sitting on his bed in his pajamas. “Aren’t you tired?” You ask, closing the door behind you. He looks up, extending his arms towards you to come in. “Yeah, but I was waiting for you.” You close the gap between you, standing between his legs as his arms settle on your thighs, fingertips digging into your flesh. He looks up at you and your heart immediately skips a beat. “You’re pretty,” he mumbles, his hand carefully sliding up to the hem of your shorts. You blush at his words, “I didn’t know you were so needy when you’re tired,” you whisper, chuckling. 

He hums, and when his hands move to your ass, you sit on his lap again, running a hand through his hair. “When I told you to be like this earlier you couldn’t even look me in the eyes,” you tease him and he just grumbles. “What is it, baby?” 

“You’re here,” is all he says before kissing your jaw. “I don’t want to hold back when you’re right here.” His words echo in your ears and without a second of hesitation, you kiss him. He leans back with you, his arms resting on your waist as he lays down, his back pressed against the mattress. “Just for the night,” he mumbles in between kisses. “Let me want you a bit more.” 

Your breath shakes as you grind on top of him, looking for any sign of discomfort. A soft, shaky whine escapes his lips and his grip tightens. “Is this okay?” He nods, his eyes closed, refusing to look at you. “Soobin,” you whisper, feeling him harden under you as you grind once more. “Look at me.” 

His eyes flutter open, scanning your face carefully before his gaze drops to where your bodies meet. “Is this okay?” You ask once more, this time getting a proper response. “More than okay,” he assures you, watching you move on top of him. His breathing is anything but steady, his eyes glued to your body as if you’d disappear if he even just as blinked. “I don’t–” his voice breaks in half when you sit directly on his tip, your shorts clinging to your body as you rub yourself on top of him. “I’m not sure what to do.” 

“It’s okay,” you nod, understanding. “You don’t have to do anything. Let’s just feel good, hm?” He nods, his hands carefully sliding up your thighs. He can do that. He can stop overthinking it and just enjoy the moment, as long as he’s with you. 

His hands slowly wander under your shirt, keeping his eyes on you to check if he’s not overstepping as he cups your breast. You bite your bottom lip, nodding slightly to him. You let him squeeze your breast, let him explore what his touch does to you. He watches every reaction, every muffled moan that leaves your lips, and every move of your hips. You never stop rubbing yourself on him and with each passing second, he feels like he is about to explode. 

Leaning down again, you crash your lips with his in a hungry kiss. He doesn’t hesitate kissing you back and pulling you closer, if that’s even possible. He thrusts his hips up on instinct, a soft whimper escaping his lips. “Wai– Wait, fuck,” he curses, looking at his wet pants and your shorts. Mistake, he realizes. Seeing the mess you managed to create already only makes it harder for him not to cum in his pants. 

You slide your hand under his shirt, tracing the line of his abs slowly before moving down to his waistband, glancing up at him for approval. “Please,” he nods, prompting himself up on his elbows as he watches you. You move aside, biting your bottom lip as you give his hard on a squeeze through the pants before pulling them down. Fuck. Soobin was tall, you knew that, of course, but you didn’t expect him to be packing down there so much as well. 

“Have you thought about me before? While jerking off?” You watch his ears turn red, figuring that’s a yes. You squeeze your thighs together, eyes flickering between his cock, abs, and face. In the ideal world, you could ride all of them. “Want to show me?” 

Soobin sits with his eyes glued to your body, his right hand wrapped around his cock, moving up and down in slow motion. You sit opposite him, your legs spread apart, pajama clothes somewhere on the floor, long forgotten by then, and your chest on full display. “What else did you think about?” You ask, watching his eyes scan your naked body. 

His eyes fall down to your fingers on your clit, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I– Your boobs,” he admits slowly, avoiding looking you in the eyes from embarrassment. “Kissing them, holding them, uhm,” he bites down his moan as the image clouds his mind, his cock twitching in his hand and breath shaking. “About how you’d look if…if we were…” 

“Yeah?” You can see that he’s close to finishing, barely able to speak without moaning or whimpering. It was hot. 

“My imagination has nothing on reality,” he mumbles, curses slipping past his lips as he watches you finger yourself, his hips thrusting into his hand with more force than before. You smirk, “that good?” He nods, opening his mouth to say something, but before he can do so, you pull out your fingers and bring them to his mouth. 

He knows he should feel embarrassed. He probably looks like a teenage boy who’s never touched a woman in his life—which he wouldn’t be far from actually—when he reaches his orgasm as soon as his lips wrap around your fingers, but he can’t seem to care. Not when you taste this good, not when you’re looking at him as if it was the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Can I..?” He asks with the biggest puppy eyes possible and even though you don’t know what he’s asking for, you nod. He moves closer to you, spreading your legs more before his hand caresses your thighs, slowly making his way to your core. His fingers replace yours, rubbing your clit the same way he watched you do so moments ago. You moan under his touch, guiding his hand lower and giving him a reassuring nod before he inserts two of his fingers into your hole. His fingers are longer than yours, without a doubt, and it shows. “Just like that, fuck, exactly there,” your eyes roll back when he hits your spot, listening to your moans as he pumps his fingers into you. 

Soobin closes the distance between you, his free hand cupping your cheek as he kisses you again while his other hand brings you to your orgasm, muffling every one of your moans with his lips. “Was that okay?” He asks, the nervousness in his voice obvious. You giggle, your breathing heavy as you press your forehead to his. “You’re doing amazing,” you nod. “Absolutely fucking amazing.” 

He giggles with you, exhaling in relief. He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and kisses you again, this time with less need but much more affection, hoping you can feel all the years he’s spent loving you from afar coming up on the surface. 

The following days became easier. You watched the nervousness and wariness in his eyes slowly change into something comfortable and familiar. He stopped being so hesitant, greeting you with a kiss every morning as if you were an old couple, holding your hand when you walked around campus, and taking you out on dates any chance he got. It was nice, and you could feel your heart skipping a beat every time his gaze lingered on you even a second longer than necessary. 

You could see yourself growing old with those eyes. 

“What are you hiding?” Soobin comes into the kitchen just as you’re leaning over the counter, a teasing grin on your face and Ryan a few steps beside you, smiling at his phone. He could recognize that smile from miles away, it was the same one he had for years on his face when he talked to you. 

“I’m not hiding anything,” he says, way too quickly to your liking. “You’re trying to see things where they’re not.” 

“What’s going on?” Soobin asks, wrapping his arm around your waist. You straighten your back and he immediately rests his head on your shoulder, watching Ryan with a spark of curiosity. His eyes flicker between the two of you, hating that it was so easy for you to see right through him. “Nothing’s going on, alright? Can’t I text people?” 

You frown. “I never said you can’t. But you’ve been texting someone for ages and it makes me wonder why you haven’t told me anything about it.” Soobin can almost hear the pout in your voice and places a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Because I told you I’m not dating again. It’s just a friend, and I don’t see a reason why I should tell you I have a new friend.” 

“You don’t have to close yourself off for everyone because one date didn’t go right,” Soobin meets his eyes and Ryan swallows everything he wanted to say when he hits a soft spot. This was nowhere close to how he wanted his evening to look like. “Didn’t you say you were going to stream tonight?” The question comes out harsher than intended but before he can apologize, Soobin nods slightly. “Yeah, I am,” he agrees, giving Ryan one last look of sympathy before turning to you. “Want to join me?” 

You blink, glancing between your two roommates. You want to stay, ask Ryan more and assure him that whatever he set his mind on is stupid, but you can see how tired he is of this conversation. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore and you know when to stop minding other people’s business, even if they’re your best friend. “Yeah, sure, let’s go,” you nod. Soobin catches the sigh that leaves your lips but doesn’t comment on it, lacing his fingers with yours instead and leading you to his room. 

“You can’t be mad at him for keeping in,” Soobin says, sitting down on his gaming chair and extending his arms for you to come in. You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you stand between his legs. “I know, and I’m not. I just… I don’t want him to deal with everything on his own.” His hands slide up the back of your thighs, a pitiful smile on his lips. 

“I’ll talk to him later, okay? Maybe he’ll tell me something,” he offers, bringing your hand to his face and kissing your knuckles. “Don’t beat yourself over it. He’ll tell you about it when he’s ready.” 

You nod, sitting on his lap with your hands on his shoulder. “Have I told you you’re absolutely amazing yet?” He chuckles, closing the space between you and pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. “You can tell me that as many times you want,” he smiles into the kiss, a soft giggle escaping your lips. 

“What’s the plan tonight?” You wonder when you pull back. He turns on the chair, his arm wrapped around your waist as he turns his PC on. When he types in his password and you notice it being your birthday, you can’t help but smile, your cheeks turning pink as you lean into his chest. “Phasmophobia,” he says, showing you the game. You watch his screen as he explains some of the rules of the game with the gameplay, nodding quietly. You let him talk, listening to his every word. It’s honestly attractive. It’s not like he’s doing much, but it’s enough. 

“Yeonjun hasn’t played it yet and we were thinking of texting Kai to join us but if you want, we can connect your laptop and you could play with us instead?” He turns his head to you, his face mare inches away from yours. You blink, shaking your head, “you said you haven’t played with Kai in a long time, you shouldn’t exclude him just because of me.” 

“I want to play with you,” he states firmly. “You should know by now I’d choose you over the boys any time.” If you were blushing before, you must look like a tomato right now. Before he can say anything else and send you into a spiral, you kiss him again, your hand on his neck as you pull him close. He doesn’t take long to catch up, pushing his tongue between your lips and deepening the kiss, his fingers digging into your waist. “You’re too good to me,” you whisper. 

“You’re the one too good to me. I’m just treating you as anyone you’ve ever given a chance to should have.” 

“You should be a poet instead,” you mumble, averting your gaze from him. You know he’s about to say something more, but he’s interrupted by an incoming call on discord, the screen flashing with The Choi’s group chat. Thank God, honestly. Whatever he wanted to say would probably make your heart race faster than it already does and you don’t need a heart attack right now. 

You accept the call, the first thing you hear being Beomgyu’s grumble. “We’ll have to use walkie talkies in the game, why are we starting a call here?” Soobin chuckles quietly, leaning forward and resting his chin on your shoulder, clicking through something on his screen. “He’s new to the game, cut him some slack,” he says and you catch a faint curse on the other side, assuming it must be from Yeonjun. 

“Whatever, who cares. Is everyone ready now? Can I text Kai? He might be asleep though, he said something about pulling an all-nighter the night before and feeling like passing out when I talked to him earlier.” As soon as Yeonjun finishes his question, Soobin turns his head to look at you again, looking for an answer in your eyes. You nod slightly, his smile widening immediately. 

“Don’t bother. I have our fourth player. She’s sitting on my lap as we speak.” 

It wasn’t a secret to any of your friends that you and Soobin were something now. Apparently, they knew so even before you did. Soobin looked terrified when Beomgyu told you a few days ago that he’s glad he finally had the balls to ask you out because it was getting annoying having to listen to him enthuse about how in love with you he was. All you could do at the moment was laugh. Then, after Beomgyu left, you showered Soobin in kisses on his bed and he promised to tell you how in love he is more often if that’s what he gets in return. He was adorable. 

The two boys greet you immediately, asking about how your day was and if Soobin is being annoying. It makes you chuckle because he is anything but. You talk with them for a bit, Soobin’s hands still wrapped around you and hugging you tightly. You love moments like these. 

You’re not sure how much time passes but eventually, you leave to get your laptop while Soobin prepares his stream, his camera and microphone already on when you come back. You place the laptop on his bed—which is also the place you agreed on sitting before even though it wasn’t exactly ideal to be in the same room while using walkie talkies—and join his side, greeting his chat with a smile. 

In the blink of an eye, the comments change from simple hello’s and questions about what the plane for today is into more personal ones—mostly about your relationship. A few people ask about your name, new fans you assume, but most of the people are asking if the rumors are true and you truly are dating. It was kind of obvious by now. Just a few days earlier, Soobin made a new post on his instagram with pictures from an actual date you had. They were cute, and made it into your highlights as well. 

He turns his head to you, not answering any of their questions. A sign of the same vulnerability you saw almost every day at the beginning flickers in his eyes, the question hanging in the air. You know which one made him like this. Are you two dating? You haven’t put a label on anything, didn’t think it was needed, but when your eyes meet his, and you see the hope in them, you want a label more than ever before. 

You smile, a gentle, soft one that always makes him calmer and turn towards the camera. “You got us,” you nod. “We are dating. But no, he does not fall into the streamer stereotypes and does shower every day, so I’m not in any danger,” you laugh, briefly glancing at Soobin. He looks puzzled, but his expression lasts less than a second, immediately being replaced with excitement and a hint of relief. 

“Wouldn’t want to stink near my beautiful girlfriend,” he grins and you have to roll your eyes at how cheeky he sounds. You shake your head at him, but the smile on your face never disappears. “Get your game ready, pretty boy. I don’t have the whole night for you.” He cocks his head to you, a teasing smirk on his face as he mouths “you sure?” at you. You fight the urge to throw a pillow at him. 

“What on Earth are they doing?” You laugh, watching Beomgyu and Yeonjun move their characters in the lobby, getting into some weird positions they definitely wouldn’t be able to recreate in real life. Soobin laughs with you, shaking his head. He was playing around with settings now, trying to convince you to go on pro mode. Neither Yeonjun nor you knew if that was something you wanted to jump into but thankfully (or possibly unfortunately) you had Beomgyu on your side, arguing with Soobin immediately that you weren’t ready and it would end up with him being alive alone again. 

“Everyone get ready,” Soobin commands, your earlier laugh replaced with a chuckle immediately. “Yes, captain,” you joke, and even though you see him rolling his eyes, you also notice the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. 

Soobin helps you out during the game a lot, always walking around beside you so you don’t stay anywhere alone and don’t get yourself killed, reminding you what certain keys do, and working with you on figuring out what kind of a ghost you’re dealing with. Anyone new joining his stream probably doesn’t even know Beomgyu and Yeonjun are in the game as well. You barely know of their presence yourself. 

After three successful rounds, Soobin finally convinced you to play on pro mode, still staying by your side as he ran around, trying to figure out the ghost’s spawn place. Yeonjun walked right behind you, holding a camera in his hands while Beomgyu stayed in the van, laughing his ass off as he watched you through Yeonjun’s camera. It slowly turned into Soobin continuously telling him to do something and him arguing that you had it all covered already. It had Soobin grumbling and his chat laughing. 

You played for two hours and half until Beomgyu had to leave—a date as Soobin informed you earlier—and you all decided to call it a day. You stretch out on the bed, pushing the heating laptop off your legs. Soobin leans back in his chair once his computer is turned off, turning to face you. “Had fun tonight?” 

You smile, nodding. You open your arms and he doesn’t hesitate getting up from his place and making his way over to you, plopping down on top of you. You giggle, bringing him down to kiss him. “So much fun,” you answer, wrapping your arms behind his neck. 

“You were so pretty,” he praises, placing a soft kiss to your nose. “I wanted to kiss you every time you gave me that clueless pout,” he whispers, this time leaving a kiss on your cheek. You giggle, cupping his cheeks and making him look at you. “Kiss me twice as much now then.” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice, already claiming your lips. He wraps his hands behind your back, keeping you as close as possible until he decides to change positions, his lips never leaving yours as he sits down and helps you onto his lap. His hand moves up to your neck, thumb brushing your cheek as he deepens the kiss. He could go like this all day if he could. 

You run a hand through his hair, forcing him to pull back when you tug at a few of his strands. He groans, eyes meeting yours. You bite back a moan yourself when you look at him, every sane thought you had until now disappearing out of the window when he looks up at you like that. “Love,” he whispers, his hands trailing down your sides until he makes it under your shirt. “Yes, baby?” You smile innocently, pretending that his touch doesn’t send shivers throughout your whole body. 

“You’re beautiful.” You learnt to accept his compliments after some time (because you’re not sure if there has been a day in which he wouldn’t compliment you in some way) but they still worked on you every time, making you blush. His hands move to your back again, unclipping your bra with ease. You help him get your shirt off, your bra following right after. He smiles, one of his hands cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his fingers while the other settles on your waist. You can’t even blink before his mouth meets your other boob, his tongue circling your nipple. 

You run your hand through his hair again, a soft whine escaping your lips as you grind on him from the pleasure. He glances at you briefly, and when he sees your eyes closed, the moans that leave your lips showing him just how much you’re enjoying yourself, he sucks harder, taking his sweet time with each of your breasts. 

“Baby,” you whine, rolling your hips against his. He finally pulls away, meeting your eyes with a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Please.” 

Your back presses against the mattress, your boyfriend hovering on top of you and kissing his way down your body. Once his mouth reaches your pants, he tugs them down slowly, kissing your inner thigh. You open your legs for him without hesitation, causing a groan to leave his lips. He settles himself between your legs, kissing his way up from your thigh to your clit. “Just a small taste,” he begs, sucking on your clit the same way he sucked on your nipple moments ago. 

It’s been days of exploring each other’s bodies, finding out what pleasures the other and what doesn’t. It took some time, but he’d like to say he knows how to get you off without any problems now, one of those things being your newly discovered obsession with riding his nose. 

And what kind of a boyfriend would he be if he didn’t give you the opportunity to do so? 

Soobin presses his nose against your clit, his tongue pushing past your folds. Your moans fill the room shortly after, even if you try to keep it down so as not to disturb your roommate, gripping the sheets on your side. You roll your hips against him, your eyes rolling back when his tongue enters your hole. As if that wasn’t enough on its own, his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you where he wants so he controls all of your pleasure. 

“Wa–Wait,” you gasp, your orgasm building in your stomach faster than you can comprehend. He simply hums against you, not bothering with looking up as he licks you. “So pretty,” he mumbles again, sucking on your clit. You gasp, finding his hair with your fingers and trying to tug him away from you, your legs closing simultaneously. 

Fortunately, he only pulls back once you reach your orgasm, finishing on his mouth. He licks his lips clean, smiling. “You,” your breath catches and you’re not even sure what you want to say. Did so fucking good? Were absolutely amazing? Take better care of me than anyone else? 

“It’s okay,” he coos, coming up to kiss you. He brushes your hair from your face gently, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You can do one more, right?” You don’t answer, you can’t. All you can think about is, where did you even learn all that? 

But you know the answer. From you. Everything he knows, he’s learnt from you, because he wanted to. He learnt how to talk, when the right time to kiss you is, where to press at times, and how to be a good mix of someone who could—and wanted—to please you, and the same person he was before who didn’t even know a handful of positions. 

His thumb gently circles your clit, causing a few whines to leave your lips. He keeps his eyes on you, waiting for your answer. Even though you told him before it was okay to overstimulate you sometimes, he didn’t need to do so. He was glad he could make you feel good, even if it means having to take care of his throbbing cock alone in the bathroom. 

But you wouldn’t let that happen, slowly nodding. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “I can take one more.” He smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips before getting his clothes off, too busy admiring your naked body to look where they ended up after he threw them to the floor. 

Soobin rubs his cock between your folds, his eyes glued to your body. “Wanna go raw?” you offer and his eyes immediately widen. He has condoms, somewhere in his top drawer of his desk, but at the moment, he completely forgot about something like protection, his mind too occupied with different thoughts. “Can I?” He looks up and you smile, nodding. 

“Fuck,” he curses, aligning himself slowly. He looks up once more for reassurance and when you chuckle, telling him it’s okay, he thrusts his tip in, giving you some time to adjust before he slaps his hips with yours. You gasp immediately, your moans coming out broken as he starts moving. 

Soobin’s soft praises mixed with his groans fill your ears, your eyes rolling back as his fingers lace with yours and he slows down again, hitting just the right spot. At that moment, even though your head is empty, one singular thought manages to pop up. I love you, Soobin.  

You don’t say anything though, holding his hand with your mouth wide open and head thrown back. Yeah, he is good. 

His thrusts turn sloppy, his energy slowly dying out as he reaches his climax. You came just seconds ago with his name falling from your lips as if you were a broken record and now it was finally his turn. You wrap your legs behind his back, keeping him in place and making sure he doesn’t even think about pulling out. You need to feel him filling you up, showing you you’re his. And he’ll gladly do so. 

“Shit,” he gasps, squeezing your hand tighter as he finishes, his eyes wide. “Fuck– That was so good.” You giggle, relaxing your legs again and trying to catch your breath. He curses again when he pulls out of you and hears you whine, fighting himself not to get hard again. He lays down beside you, dropping his arm around your stomach and pulling you flush against his body. 

“I love you,” he mumbles, just like he has many times before. But this time, it’s different after all. Because this time, you can say it back. 

“I love you too, baby,” you whisper, sealing the words with a kiss.

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @minaateez @bamgeutsz @lovingbeomgyudayone @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @saejinniestar @dawngyu @xylatox @thetxtdevil @biteyoubiteme @heesmiles @t-102 @jellyyjn @feet4liferss @soobinieswife @yunxiang0524 @xodidarks @jellyyjn @bunniwords @cocoalmond @tteokbunni @chaotic-floral @fancypeacepersona @beomgyusluver @ros1eluvsbinnie ✶⋆

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[st3f13ily]

His Obsession, My Prison

• His embrace was a sanctuary, his smile a promise—but beneath the warmth of his touch was a darkness I couldn’t escape.

• Yandere Sung Jinwoo x A-rank Healer Reader

• Manipulation, isolation, just regular yandere stuff

The stench of blood and the icy chill of death were nothing new to you. As an A-rank healer, dungeons were a second home, their twisted corridors and lurking monsters a familiar threat. But even amidst the chaos, there was always one constant—a shadow who stood between you and the darkness.

Sung Jinwoo

When you first met him, he was an E-rank hunter, weak and often looked down upon. But even then, his determination was a fire that never wavered. And you—an A-rank blessed with powerful healing abilities—had chosen to stay by his side, protecting him, mending his wounds, and watching his back.

"You don't have to stay with me, you know." he had once told you, a faint smile on his lips as he wiped blood from his cheek. "I'm just an E-rank."

"I stay because I want to." you had replied, meeting his gaze. "Not because of your rank."

Back then, his dark eyes had softened. You never imagined how that gaze would one day change.

When Jinwoo awakened as an S-rank, everything changed.

The world watched him with awe, hunters either feared him or admired him, and monsters cowered before him. You watched with a mix of pride and something else—a cold, uneasy feeling whenever his intense gaze settled on you.

He was different now. Stronger. More ruthless. But to you, he was still Jinwoo. Your Jinwoo.

Or so you thought.

It began slowly.

"You don't need to go on raids anymore. I'll handle everything."

You frowned, sitting across from him in his grand office, the view of Seoul's skyline stretching behind him. "Jinwoo, I'm a healer. Healing is what I do."

"I don't want you getting hurt." His voice was calm, but his eyes… those dark, abyssal eyes were fixed on you, intense and unwavering. "Please, trust me."

You did trust him. Or you wanted to.

But the isolation began. He stopped letting you join his guild on raids. Whenever you tried to visit the Hunter's Association, his shadows were there, watching you, gently guiding you back home. Even your fellow hunters noticed.

"Hey, (Y/N), did you quit? We never see you around anymore."

"No, it’s just…" You didn't have an answer.

Jinwoo was always so gentle with you, always smiling, always caring. But his care felt like chains, his love like a gilded cage.

And then there were the gifts. Lavish jewellery, luxurious clothes, a high-rise apartment far from the city's chaos—all from Jinwoo.

"You deserve the best," he would say, brushing his fingers against your cheek. "I want you to be safe. To be mine."

It was that possessive tone, that slight edge to his smile, that made your heart race with something other than love.

But you stayed. Because he was Jinwoo. Because you had always been by his side.

Because… you loved him.

Or was it because he wouldn't let you go?

Every time you tried to talk to other hunters, they would suddenly lose interest. Your calls would go unanswered. Even your family seemed distant, their messages few and far between.

And sometimes you feel even from your shadows that he is always there.

"Jinwoo, are you… are you keeping people away from me?" you finally confronted him one night, your voice trembling.

He looked at you, his gaze unreadable. Then he smiled—a gentle, loving smile that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Why would I ever do that?" he whispered, stepping closer, his fingers curling around a lock of your hair. "I'm just protecting you. That's all I ever wanted."

You wanted to believe him. But as the days turned into weeks, your world grew smaller, until all that remained was the darkness of his shadow… and the warmth of his embrace.

And through it all, you couldn't help but wonder…

Was this love?

Or a beautiful, dangerous trap you could never escape?

[dolcecherub]

surprise pit stop ➶-͙˚ ༘✶

★ pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

★ tags: op81, female reader, dirty talk, established relationship, phone sex, smut, riding, belly bulging, 2024 F1 season, excessive pet name

★ yap: second oscar fic!! lowkey very happy with this one and it was so fun to write so hopefully y'all enjoy - also please ignore any mistakes its like 2am when im posting this lol :)

★ word count: 3.2k

It had been a week since you had last seen Oscar, given that the past week and the one upcoming were part of the triple header in Spain, Austria, and Silverstone. Work had been far too busy for you to be able to go, unfortunately. But he made sure to call you before bed every night, telling you how much he missed you and having you at the end of every race.

Your heart ached. 

You were used to not seeing him for a few weeks at a time during the season, but that didn’t mean it was easy. Sporadic texts, late-night calls, seeing media posts wishing you could stand next to him in support. 

The Spanish Grand Prix did not end as Oscar had wanted, finishing 7th, and although he scored points, he was evidently snappy later that night, beating himself up for the performance he gave. You listened to his rambles about the track and how the garage was insufferably hot, laughing when he made an angry quip. The conversation fizzled as he relaxed, his tone soft as he murmured about how much he missed you, eyes hazed with sleep.

Long ‘goodnights’ and murmuring ‘I love you’s’ preceded a restless sleep for you, heart aching to hold him, body filled with need. 

Days had passed, fewer chats with Oscar, given that you were both a bit busy. Wednesday dragged on, the sun setting as you finished a few last-minute emails before calling it a day in the office. You hopped into your car, ready to drive home, when a notification flashed on your phone, seeing Oscar’s name light up the screen. 

You smile subconsciously before putting the car into gear and heading home. The ride home was peaceful, excited to get home and finally chat with Oscar. Pulling into your driveway, you grab your belongings before heading inside. You drop your bag near the door, sliding off your coat and hanging it up. Walking into your bedroom, you grab a change of clothes and get settled for bed before grabbing your phone. 

Tapping the notification, your chat with Oscar opens, your breath hitching as you process what he has sent you. His first text read, “thinking ‘bout you baby” and “I miss you.” 

What really got your heart racing was the picture that followed. 

A mirror selfie with Oscar sat on the corner of his hotel bed, shirtless, his hair tousled from a shower. His legs were spread, pyjama pants doing very little to hide the hard-on he was sporting. His biceps bulged, holding up his body as he leaned back a bit, abs clenched. Your mouth watered, imagining yourself settled between his legs, pleasing him. You sent a text back, body flushing with need. 

"Fuck Osc, that’s not fair"

He reads it immediately, typing back a quick emoji, before you see his contact pop up on your screen, an incoming call. You answer right away, giddy to hear his voice. 

“Hi, baby,” His voice is soft and raspy, your mind immediately calming, smiling at the nickname. “Hi, Osc, I miss you.”

“I miss you, wish you were here, bed’s empty without you,” 

“Only thing you’re missing?” You tease, looking back at the picture he sent you. He chuckles lowly as you hear rustling around. 

“You know exactly what I’m missing, darling.”  Your thighs clench at his tone, cheeks flushing red. You slide off your top, pushing your tits together and snapping a quick picture, sending it to Oscar. He groans, “Fuck. I’d do anything to have you here right now, baby,” His tone was needy. 

“Yeah? Gonna touch yourself thinking about me, hm? Imagining my mouth around you?” You teased, your hand sliding across your body. He groaned, a slick noise coming from his end of the phone. Your words continued, riling him up without fail as he brought himself to release, hearing your voice. 

Sweet goodbyes and a ramble of how much he loved you followed before you both settled into bed, miles apart. 

─── ⋆⋅✩⋅⋆ ───

Thursday morning came, your mind made up. However it may be, you would be in Austria to support him. 

And so it began, calls with some of his PR team members, a message to co-workers letting them know you’d be working from home for a few days, quick packing, as well as booking the soonest flight. You had a rough plan, hoping to fly in Saturday night and surprise him after the race on Sunday, and although a last-minute flight would never be cheap, you knew it was worth it. 

You packed a small suitcase with essentials, as well as making sure to pack Oscar’s McLaren jersey and a cute lingerie set. You made sure to do a bit of housekeeping, not having booked a return flight just yet. 

Calls with Oscar continued, the surprise nearly slipping off your tongue a handful of times. Thankfully, a team member at McLaren had been able to snag a paddock pass to ensure you’d be able to watch the race while also letting you know his hotel information so you could wait for him after the race. 

Saturday had come quicker than expected, and next thing you know, you were settled into a hotel room in the same hotel as Oscar, antsy that he was so close yet so far. He tried to call, and you brushed it off, saying you weren’t feeling well and planned on sleeping early. He bought it, thankfully, wishing you a good night’s sleep and hoping you felt better in the morning. 

The sprint race had gone well for Oscar, placing second and scoring a few more points. However, qualifying was far less exciting, having placed seventh on the starting grid. You tucked into bed, falling asleep fairly quickly, excited for the next day. 

─── ⋆⋅✩⋅⋆ ───

You woke up early, snagging a quick breakfast in the room before getting ready. You popped on Oscar’s jersey atop the lingerie you had brought, sliding on a pair of baggy jeans and a hat. You left your hair naturally, with slight waves and a light face of makeup, spritzing yourself in Oscar’s favourite perfume.

You grabbed the paddock pass you were given the night before and slipped out of the hotel room, making your way to the track.

You made sure to time it so that Oscar would likely already be in his car before you arrived to ensure he wouldn’t see you. Some of the team members smiled at your presence, knowing it would make Oscar happy. 

─── ⋆⋅✩⋅⋆ ───

The race had gone better than you could have imagined, Oscar having started seventh and finishing second. You cheered loudly, proud of his performance and excited to treat him after the race.

As he finishes up with post-race interviews, you slink back to the hotel, grabbing the key card to his room and slipping in. His room looked lived in as you navigated it, sliding off your jeans and folding them on the chair before slipping into his bed. 

It felt like hours had passed when you received a text from a friend on the McLaren team letting you know that Oscar had just left the paddock and was headed back to his hotel room. Your heart sped up with excitement, hands brushing through your hair, trying to fix any loose hairs. 

The black set you had on underneath was one of Oscar’s favourites, the lace cupping your breasts perfectly, the colour stark against your skin. You hoped his jersey on top would make him feel some sort of way. 

You heard a click, the door swinging open as Oscar sighed, he hadn’t seen you yet, toeing off his shoes at the doorway before walking in. He emptied his pockets onto the table and tousled his hair as you shifted in bed, his eyes snapping to the motion and sound. 

Your eyes locked with his, a small smile adorning your face. His eyes widened in shock, “Oh my god,” He murmured before nearly catapulting himself into bed with you, arms wrapping tightly around you as he buried his head into your neck. 

“You’re here,” He mumbled, placing a delicate kiss to the crevice between your neck and shoulder. 

“Congratulations, Oscar, you did so well. I’m so proud of you.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him close and praising him. 

“You watched?” He said shocked, pulling his head back to look at you. You pointed to the paddock pass sat atop your jeans on the chair. “You watched it live?” His voice octaves higher with surprise, “You didn’t come see me.” He pouted. 

“I wanted to surprise you, thought it would be fun,” you confessed, feeling a bit nervous suddenly. He dipped his head back into your shoulder, laughing. “I’m so happy you’re here you have no idea.” He spoke, trailing kisses up from your neck to your jaw as you lightly scratched his back, body still cooling from the race. 

His lips met yours, slow and hungry, his body impossibly pressing against yours. Days of desire pouring into his kiss, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip as his teeth nipped your lip. You gasp, letting his tongue in as it licked over your own. Your hand trailing up into his hair, tugging lightly as he groans into your mouth, your thighs clenching at the noise.

His thigh slid between yours, pressing against you, Oscar’s body on top of yours, his tongue swirling with yours messily.

You whined against his mouth, heart racing as his hands slid across your hips holding them tight. You pull back to look up at him, lips glossy, eyes dark with want and his cheeks flushed. 

“You look so good in my shirt,” He mumbled, his lips trailing delicately on your neck as his hands pushed the shirt up, revealing your black lace panties that were nearly drenched from his kisses. “For me, darling?” he asked teasingly, his hands leaving the jersey midway up your stomach before grabbing your thighs and pushing them a bit farther apart. 

You nod, biting your lip as his fingers brush the inside of your thigh. “You’re so sweet to me,” He murmurs, giving short and sweet kisses between words. Your hands trail down his chest, fingers grabbing the waistband to his shorts, tugging open the button and sliding down the zipper. You peered up at him, his eyes following your hands, cock throbbing. Sliding out from under him, you stand to the side of the bed, his expression a little confused. 

“Sit back,” You asserted, grabbing your hair and pushing it to one side. Oscar swiftly moved, sitting back against the headboard, his legs spread as you climbed back onto the bed, sitting on your knees between his legs, leaning forward toward him. He watches you intently, grabbing his shirt and slipping it off, tossing it to the side, his heart racing. You tugged the top part of his shorts down, his boxers tight against his bulge as his breath hitched at the contact. You looked up at him, tugging his boxers down and pulling his cock out, tip leaking. 

You wrap a hand around him, thumb rubbing the slick precum from his tip over his cock as you pump him a few times, Oscar groaning. He slips a hand into your hair, brushing it away from your face. Leaning forward, you slide your tongue up the bottom side of his cock, eyes locked with his as you wrap your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue around him and savouring the tip. He lets out a ragged groan, “Fuck, baby.”

You moaned at his words, the noise reverberating through him. You let a little spit dribble onto his cock before sliding his length into your mouth, hands pumping whatever you can’t fit. “Shit, look at you,” Oscar mumbled, his hands tangling into your hair tighter, pushing your head down slightly as you gagged. Your head came back up, hands still pumping him wetly as you caught your breath, Oscar’s leg twitching at the sensations. His hand quickly stopped yours, letting out a sigh, his reddened tip leaking. Your thighs clenched, feeling sticky from your arousal. 

“What?” You giggled shyly, hands still slowly pumping him despite the resistance. “You’re gonna make me cum, darling,” He chuckled breathlessly. You opened your mouth, slapping his cock on your tongue a few times before slipping it back into your mouth all the way, your nose touching his body, his cock throbbing. Oscar let out a guttural groan, head slamming back against the headboard at the sight of you.

You pulled him out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you to him as you licked your lips. Oscar lifted his hips, sliding his shorts and boxer off in one smooth go, tossing them with his shirt as he beckons you closer. Crawling onto his lap, his hands grab your hips pulling you closer as his lips landed on yours, tongue sliding against yours, hotly tasting himself on your tongue. 

You moan into his mouth, feeling him press against your core. “Take ‘em off baby,” Oscar says, snapping the edge of your panties against your hip. Obeying, you tug them off, thighs slick with arousal as you drop the panties to the side before climbing back onto his lap. His hands return to your hips, your wet heat sliding against his cock, teasing him as he groans. His hands slide back, squeezing your ass and pushing you forward. 

“You look so good in my jersey, my name on your back,” his lips suckling light marks on your neck as you grind your hips. You get up on your knees, his cock popping up, tip meeting your entrance. Oscar grabs himself, rubbing against you teasingly wetting himself as you begin to settle. His tip slides in, your mind dizzying at the stretch. You slide your hands to his shoulders, slowly taking inch by inch till your hips meet his, Oscar mezmerized by you. 

“You’re so big, Osc, fuck,” You whine out, moving your hips back and forth getting comfortable with the stretch. 

“You can take it, baby,” He assures, his hand rubbing over the slight bulge evident on your tummy under his jersey, his eyes hooked onto it watching himself inside you, the other moving your hips. 

You whimper at the pressure, finally moving your hips up and down slowly, Oscar grabbing your hips as he groans, watching you bounce. Your hips moved slowly in a menacing pace, unintentionally teasing him. You clenched around him, moaning as he fucks up into you, hands holding you down. 

“C’mon baby, you’re doing so well for me,” He praised as you whined, “You want me to help you darling, need my help, hm?” 

You leaned forward, ass pushing back a little as your forehead fell to his shoulder, “Please Oscar, n-need it,” You whimpered, begging him as his cock throbbed. His hands tighten on your hips, surely leaving marks for the next morning. He pumps his hips up into you, your mouth leaving sloppy kisses on his neck as he hits a spot inside you making you whimper loudly. 

“Look at you taking my cock, darling.” He praises, hips pistoning at a brutal pace, your mind dizzy as you fail to answer, whimpers and moans spilling out, your hands grabbing his shoulders. 

“Missed you so much,” He groaned, slowing down his thrusts to a teasing pace dragging his cock before thrusting back up into you. “Osc… fuck.” You moaned, looking at him with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks. He continued murmuring sweet praises, a knot building tight in your stomach, your inner thighs sticky as Oscar continued his dizzying thrusts. 

“You’re so good for me darling,” He groaned, his abs clenching, “Treating me to this sweet pussy, letting me fuck you like this,” His filthy words making your head spin as you whimpered. His cock filled you deliciously, feeling yourself clench around him as you tumbled closer to the edge. 

His jersey clung to your damp skin, your mouth slack as he fucked you, the slow drag of his cock leaving you breathless. “Pretty girl,” He mumbled, suckling another mark onto your neck before leaving a soft kiss to your lips, your mind far too fuzzy to kiss him back hungrily. 

“Osc I- fuck,” You whine, “I’m gonna cum,” You whimpered, your stomach tightening with need. “Cum for me baby, c’mon,” He teased, his one hand sliding between your thighs, rubbing slow circles on your clit as he continued thrusting his hips up into you. 

You feel your legs shake, clenching around him as you let go, mind fuzzy as you nearly collapse onto him, moans and the filthy slap of skin filling the air. Oscar’s hip faltered slightly, feeling you cum around him but he continued, his cock throbbing with need to finish.

“Your pussy was made for me, baby. Gonna let me cum?” He groaned, hips thrusting faster with need. You whimper at his words, too far gone to speak as you nod your head, biting your lip. 

“Let me fill that sweet pussy, darling.” Oscar moans breathlessly. His hips stutter as you tighten around him, his cock twitching inside you, warmth filling you as he groans. Oscar’s head drops to your shoulder, hips slowly fucking into you as his release filled you. He brings his head up, placing a sloppy kiss on your lips, hand sliding comfortingly against your back as you feel his cum drip out of you and coat your thighs, a filthy sight that Oscar revelled at. 

“You’re so good to me, darling, I love you,” He praised, pushing the damp hairs off of your forehead and placing delicate kisses across your face as he pulled out slowly. You whined at the loss, feeling empty as he leaked out of you.

He let out a sigh, holding you closer, before moving to get up, still holding onto you. He places you down on the bed gently, quickly grabbing a cloth to wipe both of yourselves down before getting settled for bed. Slipping on a pair of boxers, he grabbed an extra t-shirt for you, helping you peel off the jersey and slip on the t-shirt before bed. 

Oscar slid into bed with you, your eyes fighting to stay open as you curled yourself around him, leg propping onto his hip, his arms bringing your body closer as he gently kissed you. 

“I love you, Osc.” you mumbled, kissing the tip of his nose before nuzzling it with your own. A small smile on his face as he pulled you impossibly closer. “I’m happy you came,” He spoke, cuddling into your hair, you couldn’t help the joke. “Oh, I am too.” You giggled, twisting his words lightheartedly. He chuckled, squeezing your hip at the innuendo, placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head before you both silently lulled to sleep. 

─── ⋆⋅✩⋅⋆ ───

Silverstone wasn’t all that bad, Oscar having placed fourth. 

Perhaps you were good luck, you thought, as Oscar ran over to you following the race, kissing you like he had never been happier.  

─── ⋆⋅✩⋅⋆ ───

[harmonyrae]

Making a Change🌸

Synopsis: You’ve started to like things you’ve hated for over a decade. You don’t want to surprise your boyfriend. He has a certain aesthetic and you’re not sure he will be a fan… But he’ll prove, once again, that you should never doubt his love for you.

AN: This is incredibly self-indulgent and I just needed to write it down… I’m entering a new era and honestly I thought it’d be cute to imagine Sylus encouraging it. Also, I kinda need encouragement since I’m nervous. So, thanks Sylus! (Cover images from Pinterest)

Content Warnings: PURE FLUFF, Touchy Sylus, Sexually Suggestive, 18+ MDNI to be safe

Word Count: 1.2k 

“Sy…” 

You crack open the door to his office and peek inside. He’s leaning back in his chair, feet up on his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. You spot his desk phone blinking, he’s on a call. You’re about to back out, but he notices you. Using his evol, the door opens wider. His eyes lock onto you and he beckons for you to come in. Pulling the sleeves of your hoodie down, you shuffle into the room. As you get closer you can hear the voices on the other end of the call.

“Mr. Sylus, we can have that shipment to you by the end of the day. I apologize for the delay, please, we did not expect this.”

The voice is strained, fearful, desperate. Someone fucked up. Sylus reaches for you and before you can protest, you’re straddling his lap. You almost lose your balance with how his chair is tipped back to keep his long legs propped up. His hands dip under your hoodie and you slap his chest, making him chuckle. He rubs your thighs, your hips, your waist, his fingers massaging and bringing you closer with every touch. You finally give up and rest your hands on his chest, giving him the same treatment as you pop open the buttons to his shirt.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood Viktor. Kieran will be expecting you. If you’re not there by midnight, I’ll be paying you a visit. And we won’t be playing poker.”

The man thanks Sylus profusely before Sylus looks past you, his finger twitching against your waist as he focuses his evol to hang up the phone. He tries to tug your hoodie up, but you stop him. He puts on the most pitiful pout and you pinch his cheek making him tighten his hold on you. He pulls you down and buries his face in your neck, kissing your sensitive skin over and over until you’re wiggling.

“Sy! I wanted to talk to you…”

He stops kissing you to set his chin on your shoulder, his hands still gently tracing shapes over the skin of your lower back. Your body relaxes against him and he sighs as you unwind. 

“Go on then kitten, I’m listening.”

You bite your lip and run your fingers along his arm. You’re not sure why you’re nervous to talk to him about this, you know he won’t care… Maybe it’s because you haven’t talked to anyone about this. Of course you’d talk to your boyfriend about it first. His opinion matters to you, it won’t change your mind, but you do want him to be informed on your life and the changes you want to make. It’s like Sylus can sense you’re overthinking, he squeezes your hips and kisses the shell of your ear. 

“Sweetie… what is it?”

“How do you feel about the color pink?”

Of all the things you could have said, he didn’t expect that. He couldn’t form a single sentence. His brain was trying its best, but he couldn’t decide if this was a genuine question or if there was a hidden meaning. You lean back and look down at him, his confusion evident. 

“I… I know you like dark colors and I like them too! Red and black, it’s very you. I guess I wanted to know… like… what do you think about other colors? Like pink?”

You fall forward against him as he kicks his legs down off the desk. He tucks his hands under your ass and lifts you to sit on the edge, his arms resting on your thighs. 

“I don’t dislike the color. I’m more curious why you’re asking.”

You fiddle with the cuffs of your hoodie, tugging the sleeves down over and over. Sylus takes your hands to stop your nervous habit. The way he looks up at you, earnest and eager to understand. You sigh and look away to look around the room. The dark decor, leather sofa, black marble floors, red accent pillows and artwork in obsidian frames. You still love it, but your tastes have changed, evolved.

“I’ve spent the past decade in black, well, not just black, but a lot of dark colors. I dyed my hair black as soon as I was allowed and it’s been my comfort color for as long as I can remember. But lately…”

You glance at Sylus, his expression unchanged, still listening with rapt attention. 

“I guess I’ve started to really like different things and different colors…”

“Like pink?”

You can hear his smile, you nod and keep your eyes downcast.

“I guess I spent so many years saying I hated pink and girly things, even though I was relatively girly as a kid… I don’t want to say it was a phase, I do really like the gothic style, I just… I find myself wanting to buy, you know, pink things. Girly things. I know I probably sound stupid, like I’m making a big deal out of going from 'a goth to a princess' when I can be both and I know that! I never expected myself to actually like a more feminine style but now–”

Sylus cuts you off with a kiss. It’s a patient kiss, gentle, with just enough force to calm you down. When he backs away you nearly slip off the desk chasing after him. He holds your hips to steady you. 

“Sweetie, I will love you no matter what your favorite color is. You know that right?”

“I know! Yes, I know that. I just didn’t want you to be surprised or I don’t know!”

“If you want to change your style, change it. It won’t change the kind of person you are. Just how you present yourself to the world. And as long as it makes you happy, that’s all that really matters. If being around and wearing frilly, lacy, girly pink things will make you smile, I will buy you everything pink.”

Your eyes water and your stomach flips, he really is your prince charming isn’t he? Just wrapped in a “most wanted criminal mob boss” package. And that makes it even hotter.

“So… you won’t hate it if I change those black roses to pink ones?” You point at the vase on the coffee table.

“Not at all.”

“Or… add a pink fuzzy blanket to our bed?”

“Please do.”

“What if I replace your robe so we can have matching pink ones?”

“I’ll wear it with pride.”

“So I could replace my entire wardrobe and you’d… like it?”

“Kitten, I’d give you my black card in a heartbeat.”

You giggle and hop off his desk to sit on his lap again. He wraps his arms around you and nuzzles against your shoulder.

“Will you come shopping with me then? Oh! And we can get manicures together!”

He looks up at you.

“Only if we go to my nail tech. She has an impressive portfolio.”

“YOU GET MANICURES?” You squeal.

“I have to keep my nails pristine for a certain kitten.” 

He trails his fingers along your inner thigh and you gasp. You grab his hand before he continues, your cheeks a bright shade of red.

“I can’t wait to see her work… I’ve been wanting to see what pretty pink nails would look like when my hand is wrapped around your cock.”

His eyes go wide and he huffs in surprise. Oh those cute, surprised boba eyes are your favorites. He seems to forget you match his freak. Every. Single. Time. Now, you’ll just match it while wearing the softest shade of pink.  💗🌸🎀🌸💗

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @alastor-simp @drama-trauma @0tterteeth @mysticcollectionvoid @godzillaglitter @godoffuckedupcats @klmpun @ariallaisawesome @spidy-spider01 @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname @hauntedbysmut @withering-dream @lostwingz2236 @simpfortheseven @bubbleteakittyy @freddy-2002-blog @plsdonttakemyname @sylus-hunter

[allthingsfangirl101]

Look At His Face – Tyler Owens

Tyler's POV

"Thank you," I smiled as I took the keys from the girl behind the front desk. I turned around and instantly bumped into a beautiful girl my age.

"Sorry about that, darling."

"No worries, cowboy."

"Cowboy?" I asked.

She laughed as she reached up and tapped my hat. "Point taken," I chuckled. "So what brings you to Oklahoma?"

"Just passing through," she shrugged.

"Yeah? What's your final destination?" I asked, to keep her talking to me.

"New York."

"The big city," I smirked.

"You got something against cities, small town boy?"

"It's based on what you're used to," I shrugged as I put my hands in my back pockets.

"That it is," she chuckled as she walked by me. When she passed, I got a whiff of vanilla and strawberry. She talked to the girl at the front desk and got her room key. I wanted to stay to catch her name, but Boone called me over.

"Tyler! Where are you at?"

"Coming," I yelled over my shoulder. The girl looked over her shoulder and smiled at me. "It was nice to bump into you," I teased.

"Maybe we'll bump into each other again," she paused before adding, "Tyler."

I watched her as she grabbed her key and walked out. Right as she got to the door, she turned around and said, "Let me guess, cowboy. You were surprised to see the cells to the west choke each other out, weren't you?"

My mind was still trying to connect the dots as she walked out. I cleared my throat, forcing myself to snap out of it. As I walked back to my group, I kept looking back at the check-in office.

"What's with you?" Lily asked when I joined them.

"What do you mean?" I asked as I handed out the room keys.

"Yeah," Dex smirked. "You walked over here with this. . . look on your face."

"In fact," Boone elongated, "you walked out of the office with this cheeky smirk on your face." We all jumped when he gasped loudly. "You met a girl!"

"No, I didn't," I instantly pushed off. I walked past them and headed to the truck. I grabbed my bag and headed up to my room. I kept the door open like I usually do as I got myself settled. I walked out of the bathroom to see Boone sitting on my bed.

"Last I checked," I sighed, leaning against the small fridge, "I got you your own room, Boone."

"Tell me about her."

"Who?" I stuttered, trying to brush this off.

"The girl you met in the office earlier," Boone explained. "Who is she?"

I sighed and looked away. I turned my focus to my shoes as I slowly answered him. "I don't know, to be honest."

"How the hell do you not know?" Boone laughed.

"I didn't get her name," I sighed. "I turned around after checking in and instantly bumped into her. We talked for thirty seconds before you called me over."

"Sorry about that," he smirked.

"About what?"

Boone walked past me as he left my room. As he passed, he patted me on the back and laughed, "Sorry about taking you from that girl."

* * * * *

A few hours later, the little gathering was a full-on party in the parking lot. People were drinking, playing music, and exchanging stories. I was drinking a lot slower than the rest of my team.

I lifted my second beer to my lips and instantly froze when I saw Y/N leave her room. She walked out and leaned against the railing. When her eyes landed on me, she smirked and slowly lifted her hand and waved.

I forced myself to tear my eyes away from her as she walked downstairs and joined the party. Every once in a while, I found myself searching the crowd for her. She seemed to talk to everyone here.

My group was exchanging "war stories" as I was on top of the truck fixing some of our systems that got taken out by that last storm.

"Yeah," Boone was laughing. "We did it."

"Here we go, now we gotta top it," Dani smirked. Out of the corner of my eyes, I caught Y/N heading up to her room.

"City girl," I called out to her. My team laughed.

"The cells to the west will choke each other out," I restated what she said to me in the office. "That's what you said."

"I did," she shrugged. "My guess is even the one to the east didn't throw you off the scent."

"Hey," Boone defended me before I could stop him, "that's what makes Tyler famous."

"You mean on YouTube?" She smirked.

"Uh, yeah," Boone chuckled. "Yeah, we're on the YouTube. We got what? About a million subscribers now, huh?"

"Yes, sir!" Lily laughed as she pointed at him, but kept fiddling with her latest project.

"What's your name?" Ben asked her. "Just in case I include you in my piece."

"Y/N," she said, glancing at me.

"Surname?" Ben pushed.

"Just Y/N," she instantly responded. My chest felt weird when I noticed her slightly shift.

"She's a tricky one," I tried to tease to get her to relax.

"Actually," Boone said, sending me a look over his shoulder before continuing, "you made a good call with what you told Tyler earlier. The other cell looked stronger, but cap never broke."

"What's a cap?" Ben asked.

"It's a temperature inversion in the mid part of the lower atmosphere," Y/N explained. "It inhibits a storm from forming."

She looked past Ben, her eyes instantly landing on me. Whatever expression I had on my face made Y/N's face turn light pink.

"Right," Ben said slowly. "Okay. Good."

"Where did you guys all meet?" She asked, her eyes scanning the group. "Did you study meteorology at the U of A?"

Y/N's facial expression dropped as everyone started laughing. When she looked at me, I sent her an apologetic smile and a small shrug. I went back to fixing our truck as they continued talking.

"All right, Y/N, me?" Boone started. "You know, I just flow with the wind. You know what I'm saying? Yeah, I never went to, like, school or nothing. But Tyler? Tyler studied meteorology, though."

"You did?" She asked, glancing at me.

"Yeah," Boone answered for me. "He's a real cowboy scientist. He's got this natural instinct."

"Okay, Boone," I sighed.

"He taught me everything I know so. . ."

"Boone," I cut him off. I slightly cleared my throat before looking over at Y/N.

"My crew's not like most crews, Y/N. We don't need PhDs and fancy gadgets to do what we do. I guarantee you these guys have seen more tornadoes than anyone else in this lot combined."

"Is that right?" She smirked.

"Do you think there's a chance we'll see one tomorrow?" Ben asked Y/N.

"Oh yeah," Boone answered for her. "Outbreak, baby."

I rolled my eyes when he yipped. I looked over at Y/N and said, "You know, if you can keep up, we'll put you in the episode."

"Wow," she sarcastically laughed.

"Do you chase?" Ben asked.

"No," she said, but there was something in her eyes that said there was more to that simple answer than we thought. "I used to."

"Used to?" Ben asked.

"Things happen," Y/N tried to shrug off.

"What kind of. . ." I crushed my empty beer can and tossed it at him, cutting him off. When he looked up at me, I shook my head.

"If you were still chasing, where would you chase tomorrow?" Lily asked, helping Y/N by changing the subject.

"Oh no. No, no, no. You see, Y/N's from New York," I teased. "Can't trust a thing she says."

"Well, you can always trust a guy who puts his face on a t-shirt." She sent me a wink and walked up to her motel room. I couldn't help but follow her with my eyes.

"Man," Boone laughed. "Man, that was good."

"Awwww," Lily cooed. "Look at his face!"

"Shut up," I said, instantly putting on a glare and turning away from Y/N. I walked past my team, hoping my face wasn't as red as it felt.

Luckily, my friends let it drop. Or so I thought.

I jumped off the truck and put my toolbox in the back. When I shut the truck door, Lily was standing there.

"What?" I asked.

"You were starstruck," she teased.

"What are you talking about?"

"Y/N," she said slowly.

"What about her?" I asked, clearing my throat.

"You like her," she smirked.

"She was. . . I mean, she seems cool," I stuttered.

"You should go talk to her," she said, teasingly pushing me. "Invite her back down here. Or, better yet, invite her to walk around that nearby park."

"We're in the middle of chasing," I brushed off. I tried to walk away, but she grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

"Ty," she said gently, "you never let anyone in."

"What are you talking about?" I challenged. "I let people in. I talk to you guys all the time.

"That's not the same, and you know it," she sighed. "Whenever we run into a girl you're interested in, which is rarely, you have one conversation with her and then instantly push her away."

"I do not," I scoffed. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at me in a way that made it clear that she knew I was lying. "Fine," I gave in. "But it doesn't matter, alright? I can't date right now. I need to be focused so I can bring you all back alive. I need to be focused on chasing."

"You know, Ty," she sighed, "there is such a thing as too focused. Especially when it's on the wrong thing."

* * * * *

I looked around to see my team officially too drunk to realize I was gone. I grabbed two beers and snuck up to the second floor of the motel. It wasn't until I knocked on her door that I realized how creepy this was.

Right as I was about to leave, she opened her door. "Tyler?"

"Hi," I said, sounding a lot more insecure than I had wished.

"What can I do for you?" She asked with a small smirk on her face. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorway.

"I thought you'd like a drink," I shrugged as I showed her the beers I'd brought. My stomach dropped when her smirk fell.

"I don't drink," she admitted. "But I could go for some pizza."

"On it."

This time, when I returned to Y/N's motel room, I didn't hesitate. I walked right up to the door and knocked. She soon opened the door, a small chuckle left her lips.

"You're back."

She laughed when I showed her the pizza. I ignored the feeling in my gut when she stepped aside and smirked at me. I sent her a wink as I walked into her motel room. As I sat across from her and we ate the pizza, I realized this would be the scariest thing I've ever chased.

[kpoplustzone]

What's wrong with Secretary Kim Smut part 1

Support me on Kofi by reading unreleased stories on Tumblr. There are many one-shots and ongoing series in Kofi-link

You can check the K DRAMA CAST to picture the character in your mind

Park Min Young as Kim Mi So (Secretary of Young Joon and his girlfriend)

Yoo Shik (Yeong Joon's long-time friend)

Yeong joon

Yoo Shik watched as Kim Mi So entered his office, her usual radiant smile absent, replaced by a furrow of concern on her delicate brow. She sat down in the chair opposite his desk, her movements lacking their usual brisk efficiency. The worry etched on her beautiful face was palpable, and Yoo Shik felt a pang of unease.

“Mi So-ssi, what’s troubling you?” he asked gently, his voice calm and reassuring.

Kim Mi So hesitated for a moment, her gaze dropping to her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. When she finally looked up, her eyes held a deep worry that Yoo Shik rarely saw. “Director Yoo Shik… I… I noticed something… something on the president’s ankles the other day.”

Yoo Shik’s brow furrowed slightly. “On Young Joon’s ankles? What did you see?”

Kim Mi So took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “Scars… faint, but definitely there. They looked… like he had been tied up. Like something had been tightly bound around his ankles for a long time.” Her eyes searched Yoo Shik’s face, pleading for an explanation. “Yoo Shik sshi… do you know how he got those scars? Was he… was he hurt when he was younger?”

“Ultimately, Mi So-ssi, Young Joon has never spoken directly about how he got those scars to me. It’s a very personal matter, and he is a very private person. They may be from something entirely different, perhaps a childhood injury we can’t even imagine. What’s important is how he is now, and you’ve seen firsthand how much he has grown and changed, especially recently.” Yoo Shik gave her a warm, reassuring smile. “I understand your concern, Mi So-ssi, it speaks volumes about your care for him. But perhaps it’s best to let Young Joon share his past with you in his own time, if he chooses to do so.”

Yoo Shik casually strolled around Kim Mi So’s desk, a familiar glint in his eye. He placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs instinctively kneading the knots he knew would be there after a long morning. She leaned slightly into his touch, a small sigh escaping her lips – a silent acknowledgment of their usual after-hours dynamic bleeding into the workday. From this angle, he had his usual, privileged view of the enticing swell of her breasts beneath her office blouse. He knew every curve of her body intimately; the way her blouse strained just a little across her full bust, the elegant line of her waist, the subtle lift of her rear when she stood. She was, without a doubt, the sexiest woman he knew, and she was his. Her beauty, intelligence, and the way she submitted to him in private were an intoxicating combination.

He continued to massage her shoulders, his fingers slowly drifting downwards, a well-worn path in their secret encounters. Kim Mi So’s subtle relaxation deepened; she trusted his touch, knew where it was going. There was an unspoken anticipation in the air, a silent promise of what awaited them later. His hands finally reached the familiar curve of her breasts, resting just where the fabric of her blouse began to stretch. He could feel the soft resilience of her bra underneath, the warmth emanating from her skin. He pressed gently, his fingers knowing exactly how to mold to her shape. He felt the almost imperceptible shift in her breathing, a tell-tale sign of her arousal. It was a familiar dance, this clandestine intimacy in the office, a thrilling risk that only added to the excitement of their affair. He knew she wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and these small touches were just the beginning of the fire that would undoubtedly ignite between them later

“Oppa,” Mi So said softly, her hand reaching up to gently cover his on her shoulder, “I’m really not in the mood right now. Director Park’s been causing so many headaches today…” But even as she spoke, her body betrayed her. His hand was still resting on the curve of her breast, right over her bra, and the way his fingers were gently kneading was sending little sparks of desire through her.

Yoo Shik didn’t stop his gentle massage, his thumb subtly pressing against her nipple through the fabric. “I know, Mi So-yah,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “Just for a minute. It’ll help you relax.” His other hand moved to her other breast, mirroring the gentle pressure.

She tried to pull away slightly, a small frown creasing her forehead. “Really, oppa, not here. What if someone comes in?” But the truth was, even though she voiced her concerns, her body was starting to react in ways she couldn't control. His touch, the way his hands seemed to know exactly how to stimulate her even through her clothes, was overriding her initial reluctance.

A soft groan escaped her lips as his fingers found a particularly sensitive spot on her breast. The worry about Director Park seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the more immediate sensations he was igniting within her. Her nipples were hardening under his touch, and a familiar warmth was spreading through her lower abdomen.

“Just a little…,” she whispered, her voice now husky, her attempt to resist weakening with each passing second. His hands were doing magic, pure and simple. He wasn’t even touching her bare skin, but the way he was kneading and pressing, the knowing movements, were enough to make her want to lean back into his touch.

Her head tilted back slightly, and a soft moan slipped past her lips, this one louder than the last. Her body was definitely remembering all the times they had been together, the pleasure he knew how to give her. Despite her initial protest, every fiber of her being was starting to crave more. The tension she had felt from work was being replaced by a different kind of tension, a delicious, pulsing ache that only he could satisfy. Her body was becoming receptive, her earlier mood completely forgotten in the face of his skillful touch.

Ki Joon’s hands continued to knead Mi So’s breasts through the fabric of her blouse, his thumbs circling her already hard nipples. He watched her beautiful face, flushed with pleasure, her eyes slightly glazed over. Her other hand had instinctively moved down, her fingers now rhythmically rubbing her inner thigh, a clear sign of how turned on she was.

“You know, Mi So-yah,” Ki Joon murmured, his voice low and husky, “You call me ‘oppa’ all the time, especially when we’re alone like this.” He gave her breast a gentle squeeze. “But you never call Young Joon ‘oppa.’ Why is that, hmm?”

Mi So’s eyes fluttered open, a playful smirk touching her lips. “Oh, you’re jealous, oppa?” she teased, her hand on her thigh moving a little faster. “Don’t be. You know you’re my favorite ‘oppa’… for certain things.” She let her gaze drift down to his lap for a suggestive moment.

Ki Joon chuckled, his grip on her breasts tightening slightly. “You’re right. I know.” He leaned closer, his lips brushing against her ear. “But seriously, what’s so different about me?”

Mi So sighed contentedly as his thumb found her nipple again. “Well, for one thing,” she whispered back, her breath warm against his neck, “you’re the one who knows how to touch me like this.” Her hand on her thigh had now slipped under her skirt, her fingers teasing the wetness she could feel blooming there. “Young Joon-ssi… he’s different. Our relationship… it wasn’t ever like this.”

Ki Joon’s fingers slipped under the hem of her blouse, his bare skin now against her bra. He could feel the heat radiating from her. “So, Young Joon never made you moan like this?” he asked, his voice laced with a hint of possessiveness.

Mi So’s head tilted back, a soft groan escaping her lips as Ki Joon’s fingers found the clasp of her bra. “Never,” she breathed out. “He was… all about the work. You, oppa…” Her hand on her thigh was now definitely inside her panties, her fingers moving with increasing urgency. “You know exactly what I want.”

Ki Joon finally unhooked her bra, his hands now directly on her bare breasts. They were full and heavy, the nipples already pebble-hard under his touch. He gently squeezed and kneaded, savoring the feel of her soft skin. “And what exactly do you want right now, Mi So-yah?” he purred, his gaze intent on her face.

“Oh, you know,” she whispered, her eyes half-closed, her cheeks flushed. “You know I want you to keep touching me like this… right here in the office, where anyone could walk in.” Her fingers were now deep inside her, her thighs trembling slightly. “And maybe later… maybe later I’ll show you just how much I appreciate my favorite ‘oppa’ who knows how to make me feel so incredibly…” Her voice trailed off as Ki Joon’s thumb found her nipple again, sending another wave of pleasure through her. Her body in that tight office dress, the contrast of the professional attire with the blatant desire in her eyes, and the way she was touching herself, was driving him wild.

Yoo Shik moved from behind Mi So’s chair and knelt down right in front of her, his gaze locked on her beautiful face. He reached out, his hands gently framing her cheeks, his thumbs softly stroking her smooth skin. His eyes lingered on her lips, which were full and slightly parted, looking incredibly soft and inviting. He leaned closer, his breath warm against her mouth, and then he kissed her.

It wasn’t a gentle peck; it was a possessive claiming, his lips pressing firmly against hers. Mi So responded instantly, her earlier hesitation completely gone. Her lips parted further, and she sucked on his, her tongue darting out to meet his, tangling and swirling in a hungry dance. She made a soft, needy sound in the back of her throat, her hands instinctively reaching up to clutch his face, pulling him closer as if she couldn’t get enough.

Breaking the kiss, Yoo Shik’s eyes held a knowing smirk. “You remember that night, don’t you, Mi So-yah?” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “After your date with Young Joon? You came straight to my place, all worked up, wanting my thick, hard cock inside you.” He leaned in close again, whispering against her lips, “You were bouncing on it so hard, weren’t you? Screaming my name.”

Mi So let out a soft moan, her cheeks flushing even deeper. She remembered that night vividly. She had been confused and frustrated after her date, and Yoo Shik’s raw desire had been exactly what she needed.

Yoo Shik continued, his fingers now tracing the outline of her lips. “And what about that time at Young Joon’s house? The three of us together?” He chuckled softly, a suggestive sound that sent a shiver down Mi So’s spine. “You were such a little tease, weren’t you? Giving me that handjob in the kitchen, right there while Young Joon was just in the next room.”

https://www.reddit.com/r/kactress/comments/1k9q652/park_min_young/

Mi So’s breath hitched, and another moan escaped her, louder this time. The memory of that afternoon flooded back to her – the forbidden thrill of touching Yoo Shik so intimately, the risk of being caught by Young Joon, the heady mix of desire and nervousness. She had been so turned on that day, her fingers slick with her own precum even as she stroked Yoo Shik’s impressive member.

Yoo Shik’s gaze dropped to her lap. He could see the subtle dampness spreading on her office skirt, right where her thighs were pressed together. “You’re getting wet just thinking about it, aren’t you, Mi So-yah?” he said, his voice thick with arousal. “Your little pussy remembers how good my cock feels, doesn’t it?”

He brought his face close to hers again, kissing her deeply, his tongue plunging into her mouth. As they kissed, his hands roamed freely over her body, tracing the curve of her neck, the swell of her breasts under her blouse, the narrowness of her waist. Mi So’s hands tightened in his hair, her body growing increasingly restless. She could feel the wetness between her legs intensifying, the sensation seeping through her panties, creating a warm, slick patch on her thighs.

“You were so eager for me that day,” Yoo Shik continued, breaking the kiss again, his eyes burning with lust. “You couldn’t wait for Young Joon to turn his back. You practically attacked my cock, didn’t you?” He traced his fingers down her throat, pausing at the top button of her blouse. “And the way you looked at me while you were doing it… all that pent-up desire in your eyes.”

Mi So’s head lolled back, her moans becoming more frequent and unrestrained. The memories Yoo Shik was evoking were so vivid, so intensely arousing. She could almost feel his cock in her hand again, the heat and thickness of it, the way it pulsed as she stroked him. And the memory of the risk, the sheer audacity of it, only amplified her current arousal.

Yoo Shik’s fingers finally unbuttoned the top few buttons of her blouse, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the lacy bra underneath. “You’re so beautiful, Mi So-yah,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on the exposed skin. “So incredibly sexy.” He leaned down and kissed the sensitive skin just above her bra, inhaling deeply. “You always come back to me, don’t you? No matter what happens with Young Joon.”

Mi So could only whimper, her body aching for his touch, for the release he knew how to give her. The wetness between her legs was now undeniable, a thick, slick heat that was soaking her panties and spreading down her thighs. She was completely lost in the moment, her thoughts consumed by the images Yoo Shik had painted, her body reacting with an intensity that surprised even her. She wanted him, right here, right now, all the talk and memories just serving to fuel her burning desire.

https://www.reddit.com/r/kactress/comments/1igxv88/park_min_young/

With a slow, deliberate slide, Yoo Shik’s fingers worked on the remaining buttons of Mi So’s blouse, one by one, until the fabric fell open completely. There she was, clad in a tight, lacy bra that looked like it was struggling to contain the fullness of her plump breasts. Her nipples were hard peaks, pressing against the delicate material, and he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she panted, her breath catching in her throat. Her fit body was on full display, the curves accentuated by the clingy fabric of her office attire underneath the open blouse.

Yoo Shik’s gaze drifted from her breasts to her flushed face, her eyes half-closed in a haze of arousal. A knowing smirk played on his lips. “Tell me, Mi So-yah,” he began, his voice low and seductive, “why is it that you say you love him… yet you crave my cock so desperately?” He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the outline of her bra. “Is he not enough for you? Does he not satisfy you the way I do?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a mere whisper. “You remember that morning, don’t you, Mi So-yah? Not last night, but that morning after… well, after you and Young Joon had your time. You came straight to my office, all worked up, wanting my thick, hard cock inside you.” He leaned in close again, whispering against her lips, “I fucked you hard against this very office window, until your legs were shaking and you couldn’t take it anymore.” He paused, his eyes gleaming with a possessive intensity. “You could see him down there, heading into his meeting, and still, you were grinding your sexy ass against my cock, weren’t you?”

Mi So’s eyes fluttered open, her cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and intense arousal. She tried to speak, to deny his words, to offer some kind of explanation, but the words caught in her throat. “Oppa… that’s not… it’s not like that…” she stammered, her sentences trailing off, failing to form any coherent reason.

Yoo Shik chuckled softly, his fingers now slipping under the band of her bra, his bare skin making contact with the warm flesh of her breasts. “Isn’t it, Mi So-yah? Then tell me, what is it like? Why do you come to me, so eager, so insatiable, if he is truly the one you love?” He gently squeezed one of her breasts, his thumb teasing her hard nipple. “You moan my name, Mi So-yah. You arch your back for my touch. You beg me to fill you.”

He leaned in closer, his lips just inches from hers. “You remember how wet you were that morning, don’t you? How tightly you squeezed me inside you, right here against the glass? Anyone could have seen us, Mi So-yah, but you didn’t care, did you? You were too lost in the pleasure I was giving you.”

Mi So’s breath hitched, and a soft whimper escaped her lips. The memories he was evoking were so vivid, so incredibly arousing. She could feel the phantom sensation of his hard cock pounding into her, the cold glass against her back, the desperate gasps that had escaped her lips. It had been a morning filled with a desperate urgency, a raw need that she hadn't fully understood herself at the time, only that Yoo Shik's touch had been the only thing that could quell the storm within her.

“You can’t deny it, Mi So-yah,” Yoo Shik continued, his voice a low purr. “Your body tells the truth, even if your words try to lie.” He gently cupped both of her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples. “You crave me, Mi So-yah. You crave my touch, my cock, my… everything.”

Mi So tried to form a sentence, to offer some kind of resistance, but all that came out was another soft moan. Her thighs were pressed tightly together, her core aching with a familiar longing. The wetness between her legs was now undeniable, a thick, throbbing heat that spread through her panties. She looked up at Yoo Shik, her eyes filled with a conflict of emotions – a hint of guilt, a flicker of denial, but overwhelmingly, a deep, undeniable desire. She couldn’t bring herself to look away from his intense gaze, knowing that he saw right through her, saw the truth of her desires reflected in her flushed face and rapidly rising chest. Her attempts at denial were weak, almost pathetic, drowned out by the insistent throbbing of her body and the undeniable memories he had so vividly brought back to the surface. Her body knew what it wanted, and right now, that wasn’t Young Joon. It was Yoo Shik’s demanding touch, his possessive gaze, and the raw, unadulterated pleasure he knew how to deliver.

Deep down, in the quiet corners of her heart, Mi So truly loved Young Joon. He was her anchor, her confidant, the man who brought stability and laughter into her life. She was genuinely happy with him, building a future she had long dreamed of. But then there was Yoo Shik. He was a different kind of pull, a raw, primal craving that her body couldn't seem to ignore. It wasn't about deep emotions or shared dreams; it was about the electric touch of his hands on her skin, the hungry possessiveness of his kisses that left her breathless, the way his thick cock filled her so completely, stretching her in ways that left her trembling and aching for more.

Young Joon was sweet, considerate, but in the bedroom, he was still somewhat tentative, his inexperience showing. With Yoo Shik, it was different. He was divorced, worldly, a man who knew exactly how to touch a woman, where to kiss, how to make her body come alive with a pleasure that bordered on frantic. His hands roamed her body with a confident familiarity, his lips devoured hers with a hungry passion, and when he slid inside her, it was with a seasoned expertise that left her moaning and gasping for air. He knew all the right places to touch, the exact rhythm to move, the dirty words to whisper in her ear that sent shivers down her spine. It was a stark contrast to the gentler, more innocent intimacy she shared with Young Joon. Her heart belonged to one man, but her body, it seemed, had a mind of its own, a relentless yearning for the experienced touch and unrestrained passion that only Yoo Shik could provide.

With a final, smooth movement, Yoo Shik pulled Mi So’s blouse completely off her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor in a soft heap. Her bra was gone too, and her bare breasts bounced into view, the sudden freedom making her gasp. There she was, just in her fitted office skirt, her full, plump breasts on full display. Mi So’s body was truly a vision – the soft curve of her shoulders, the enticing fullness of her breasts with their hard, eager nipples, the gentle slope of her stomach leading down to the hem of her skirt.

Yoo Shik still found it hard to believe that this confident, capable woman had been a virgin when he first touched her. Their relationship had started with a raw, undeniable physical attraction, a series of intense, no-strings-attached encounters. There had been no pretense of dating, no talk of the future. She loved Young Joon, that much was clear, but for Yoo Shik, he was perfectly content to be the man she came to whenever she craved unadulterated, mind-numbing sex.

https://www.reddit.com/r/KoreanCelebrityFap/comments/1f4pg1p/park_minyoung/

He leaned in and kissed her again, his lips finding hers in a hungry embrace. This time, his hands were free to explore the bare expanse of her chest. He cupped her breasts, savoring their weight and softness, his thumbs gently teasing her already erect nipples. Mi So moaned into his mouth, her body trembling under his touch. He could feel her nipples hardening even further, responding instantly to his attention. He flicked his tongue against her lips, and she opened her mouth wider, her own tongue meeting his in a passionate dance. All the while, his hands continued their sensual exploration of her breasts, kneading, squeezing, and stroking, driving her closer and closer to the edge of pure pleasure.

Leaving her lips, Yoo Shik trailed his kisses down Mi So’s fair, slender neck, his tongue flicking out to taste the sensitive skin there. She shivered under his touch, her head falling back slightly to give him more access. He could feel her pulse quickening beneath his lips. Reaching her breasts, he paused, his hot breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. Mi So’s body trembled again, her nipples tightening even further, begging for his touch.

He then took one of her full breasts in his hands, his fingers gently kneading the soft flesh. His breath grew warmer as he exhaled directly onto her nipple, making it bead up and become even harder. Mi So let out a soft moan, her hands instinctively reaching up to grip his shoulders. She lifted her chest slightly, offering him an unspoken invitation. It was a clear signal – she wanted more, needed more. The movement caused her already generous breasts to push up even higher, their plumpness even more pronounced.

Yoo Shik didn’t hesitate. He lowered his head and gently licked one aching nipple, his tongue swirling around the hard peak. Mi So cried out softly, her body arching against his. He then moved to her other breast, repeating the tantalizing lick. Her moans grew louder, more desperate. She was so incredibly responsive, her body reacting to his every touch with an intensity that fueled his own desire.

Yoo Shik continued to lavish attention on Mi So’s breasts, his mouth a warm, wet playground for her aching nipples. He’d suck hard, then gently graze the sensitive skin with his teeth, eliciting sharp gasps and moans from her. He moved from one breast to the other, giving them equal attention, his hands cupping and squeezing the soft flesh as his lips and tongue worked their magic. The sounds of their pleasure filled the office – Yoo Shik’s satisfied sighs and Mi So’s increasingly desperate moans and groans. Luckily for their secret, the office doors were thick, and the early morning quiet outside meant no one was likely to overhear their illicit encounter.

Mi So was practically writhing on the small office sofa, her body arching and twisting as the sensations intensified. Her hands gripped Yoo Shik’s hair, sometimes pulling him closer, sometimes just tangling in the strands as she rode the waves of pleasure. “Oppa… oh, oppa…” she’d gasp, her voice thick with arousal, the only word she seemed capable of forming. Each suckle and lick sent shivers of delight through her, making her tremble uncontrollably. Her hips lifted slightly off the cushion, instinctively seeking more pressure, more friction. Her big boobs jiggled with her movements, their hard nipples brushing against Yoo Shik’s face as he continued his passionate assault. The air in the office felt thick with unspoken desire and the undeniable sounds of their escalating arousal.

Yoo Shik pushed himself up from the edge of the sofa, a sudden surge of desire making him restless. He shrugged off his suit coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair. Then, with a deliberate movement, he loosened his tie, the knot coming undone and the fabric falling slightly open at his collar. Mi So, still in a haze of lingering pleasure from his mouth on her breasts, watched him with heavy-lidded eyes. Even through the fabric of his trousers, she could clearly see the impressive bulge straining against the material. A slow, sensual lick escaped her lips as the memory of his thick, hard cock filling her returned with vivid intensity.

With a newfound resolve, she slowly pushed herself up from the sofa. The sudden movement caused her bare breasts to jiggle enticingly under his gaze, the hard nipples bobbing with each step. Yoo Shik’s already impressive erection seemed to tighten even further against his pants at the sight of her. Her eyes locked on his, filled with a raw hunger that mirrored his own, she closed the distance between them. Her hands reached out, gently at first, then with increasing confidence, and started to rub the hard ridge pressing against his trousers. Her touch was knowing, familiar, and sent a jolt of pure electricity through his body. She looked directly into his eyes, a silent promise of the pleasure they were about to share passing between them.

“Do you want it, Mi So-yah?” Yoo Shik asked, his voice thick with desire as he watched her hands stroking his already throbbing cock through the fabric of his trousers. Her touch was driving him crazy, and the question was more of a statement of the inevitable than an actual inquiry.

Mi So looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous and utterly carnal hunger. A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips. “Oh, oppa,” she purred, her voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down his spine, “you know I want it. I’ve been wanting it ever since I saw it straining in your pants.” Her hands continued their sensual exploration, her touch becoming bolder, more insistent. “That thick, hard cock of yours… it’s been on my mind all day.”

With a deliberate movement, her fingers reached for the button of his trousers, slowly undoing the fastening. Yoo Shik held his breath, anticipation building in his chest. The zipper followed, the sound loud in the quiet office. Mi So’s gaze never left his, her eyes filled with a desire that mirrored his own.

Then, with a teasing slowness, her fair, slender hands slipped inside the open waistband of his pants, disappearing beneath the soft fabric of his boxers. He could feel her touch him directly now, the warmth of her hands enveloping his hard, throbbing cock. A jolt of pure pleasure shot through him. She gently squeezed, testing his hardness, and then began to stroke, her fingers gliding up and down the length of his engorged member. He let out a shaky breath, his head falling back slightly as the intensity of the sensation washed over him. Her touch was exquisite, teasing the sensitive head, running down the smooth shaft, making him throb even harder in her grasp.

After a few more tantalizing moments, Mi So’s hands stilled their gentle caress on Yoo Shik’s thighs. A playful, almost wicked glint danced in her eyes as she looked up at him, her lips curved into a knowing smile. It was a silent invitation, a promise of deeper intimacy that sent a fresh wave of anticipation crashing through Yoo Shik. He watched, his breath catching in his throat, as she slowly knelt down before him.

Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his waist, her focus sharpening with an intense curiosity. Her slender fingers, which had been lightly tracing patterns on his legs, now moved to the button of his trousers. With a delicate precision, she undid the fastening, the small click echoing in the quiet of the office. Her touch lingered for a moment, her fingertips brushing against the fabric before she carefully slid the zipper down. The soft rasp of the metal breaking the silence only heightened the building tension in the room.

Next came the waistband of his boxers, the familiar elastic yielding easily to her touch. Mi So’s movements were slow and deliberate, each action a deliberate tease, drawing out the anticipation. As the fabric slid down his thighs, revealing more and more of him, Yoo Shik felt a thrill course through him. He could see the focused intensity in her eyes, the way her lips were slightly parted in anticipation.

And then, finally, it was there. Freed from the confines of his clothing, Yoo Shik’s cock sprang out, long and thick, arching upwards with a proud stiffness that almost made contact with Mi So’s stunningly beautiful face. She gasped softly, her eyes widening as she took in the impressive sight. It stood before her, a testament to his desire, the head a deep, rich red, glistening with a thick bead of pre-cum at the very tip. The veins pulsed visibly beneath the smooth skin, a tangible sign of his arousal.

With a slow, reverent touch, Mi So’s fair, slender hands reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as they made contact with his engorged member. She took her time, her touch feather-light at first, as if she were exploring a precious object. Then, with increasing confidence, she wrapped her hand around the base, marveling at its thick circumference. Her fingers slowly traced the entire length, from the heavy root to the swollen, sensitive head. She explored every curve, every ridge, every vein, her touch becoming more intimate and knowing with each passing moment.

A soft sigh, a mixture of awe and longing, escaped her lips. She couldn’t help but compare the impressive weight and size of Yoo Shik’s cock to that of Young Joon. While Young Joon was certainly handsome and kind, his member in comparison felt almost… delicate. Yoo Shik’s, on the other hand, was a different beast altogether – thick, powerful, demanding. A secret, almost triumphant smile flickered across Mi So’s lips as she silently acknowledged the stark difference. This man, this seemingly ordinary colleague, possessed a weapon of pleasure that her supposedly perfect boyfriend simply couldn’t match. The realization only intensified the burning desire that was already raging within her, a potent mix of lust and a forbidden thrill. Her fingers tightened slightly around him, a silent promise of the pleasure she both craved to give and desperately wanted to receive. The early morning sunlight caught the glistening pre-cum on his tip, and Mi So leaned in slightly, her eyes never leaving his, a primal hunger evident in her gaze.

Mi So’s heart leaped into her throat at the sharp rap on the door, echoing loudly in the suddenly tense office. Kim Ji Ah’s voice, crisp and professional, cut through the air. “Vice President Yoo Shik? It’s Kim Ji Ah. I have those urgent files for your signature.”

KIM JI AH

Panic flared in Mi So’s eyes. Her bare breasts bounced with each hurried movement as she snatched her bra and blouse from the floor, her fingers fumbling with the tiny hooks. Yoo Shik, equally startled, grabbed his discarded trousers and boxers, his face a mask of barely concealed alarm.

“Just a moment, Ji Ah!” Yoo Shik called out, his voice strained as he tried to sound like he hadn't just been on the verge of a very different kind of meeting. He glanced frantically at Mi So.

With a desperate, wide-eyed look, Mi So scurried under Yoo Shik’s expansive desk, her only covering the tight office skirt that rode up her thighs with the hasty movement. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes landed squarely on Yoo Shik’s still-erect cock, swinging precariously as he sat back down in his chair. A thick bead of pre-cum clung to the tip, glistening in the dim light under the desk. Her insides clenched involuntarily.

“Come in, Ji Ah,” Yoo Shik said, trying to sound as composed as possible. He clutched his trousers and boxers in his lap, a pathetic attempt to hide his state.

The door swung open, and Kim Ji Ah entered, her arms holding a stack of manila folders. Following closely behind her was another woman, someone Mi So didn’t recognize immediately. This woman radiated a warm, friendly energy, her smile bright and genuine. She had a youthful glow and a figure that looked fantastic in a simple yet elegant dress.

“Good morning, Vice President,” Kim Ji Ah said, her attention focused on the files. “These need your immediate sign-off.”

“Good morning, Ji Ah. And good morning to you as well,” Yoo Shik said, his voice a little too cheerful, his eyes lingering on the newcomer with a curious interest that Mi So, from her vantage point, definitely noticed.

“Oh, Vice President, I’d like to introduce you to Ms. Jung Yoo Mi,” Kim Ji Ah said, gesturing to the woman beside her. “She’s a childhood friend of Director Lee’s. She’s opening a new cafe, and Director Lee recommended you might be able to assist her with some of the business aspects.”

Jung Yoo Mi (Young Joon's childhood friend and unrequited first love)

Jung Yoo Mi offered a charming smile, her eyes meeting Yoo Shik’s with a directness that was both friendly and slightly intriguing. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Vice President Yoo Shik. Young Joon has spoken very highly of your business acumen.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Jung,” Yoo Shik replied, his earlier alarm seemingly replaced by a genuine interest in the attractive woman standing before him. “Young Joon is a good judge of character. Welcome.” His eyes flickered briefly downwards, taking in the subtle curves of her body beneath her dress.

Under the desk, Mi So’s stomach twisted with a knot of anxiety. Not only was she in a ridiculously compromising position, practically naked under her boss’s desk, but now Young Joon’s childhood friend was here, and Yoo Shik was already turning on the charm. She could hear the polite exchange above her, the rustling of papers as Kim Ji Ah placed the files on the desk. The air under the desk felt thick and close, the faint scent of pre-cum still lingering. Her own breasts felt heavy and exposed, and she silently prayed that no one would need anything from under the desk anytime soon. The situation was a chaotic mess of near exposure, unexpected visitors, and a potent mix of panic and lingering arousal.

[ducksido]

I’ve been obsessed with child soldier!Yuu (kind of like Violet Evergarden) where they joined the army when they were young and battles and fighting and war is all they know - they were like this emotionless killing machine and nothing else - and have no idea how to be a normal kid so when they go to Twisted Wonderland they have no idea how to socialise (but since they are super obedient to authority, they make for the perfect slave for Crowley).

And Lilia figures out Yuu’s past and acts like a father to them and tries to heal their scars of being treated like a weapon and shows them how to actually live instead of survive.

I just love war veteran dad lilia and child soldier yuu who has no family and has never been given love before

Yuu wakes at 4:30 sharp.

They fold the blanket into a tight square, make their bed with military precision, and stand at attention in front of the mirror—expression flat, eyes dead, back straight.

Just like always.

Crowley had quickly learned they were the perfect servant. No backtalk. No disobedience. No complaints. The headmaster asked, and Yuu executed without hesitation—laundry, monster wrangling, even scrubbing magical blast residue from the walls after an alchemy mishap. He joked once that they were like a loyal little soldier.

Yuu didn’t laugh. They didn’t know how.

They were a soldier. Not a little. Not loyal. Just forged in battle. Sharpened into a blade.

And now? Here, in this world with smiling idiots and floating candles?

They had no mission. No commanding officer. No unit. Only orders.

They didn’t understand this place. Didn’t understand Grim, who was loud and warm. Didn’t understand Deuce, who fought for justice. Didn’t understand Ace, who smiled when angry.

They didn’t understand Lilia Vanrouge.

Lilia had been watching them.

That sharp, ancient gaze hidden behind giggles and fangs.

It was during PE that he figured it out. Yuu moved too perfectly. Not like a student dodging a spell—but like a soldier evading live bullets. Not flashy, not dramatic—efficient. Trained.

So after class, he pulled them aside.

“Where did you learn that?”

“Learn what, sir?” they asked, monotone.

“That… maneuver. The way you moved.”

Yuu tilted their head. “I was taught in the 103rd Recon Battalion, sir. Evasive maneuvering and counter-sniping are part of my standard protocol.”

Silence.

Lilia’s smile dropped. Just a little. And in that second, the playful fangs faded, and the ancient war general stirred.

“…How old were you?”

“Five. I was operational by six.” They blinked, like reciting from memory. “I was promoted at ten after surviving the siege of Oskirein. At eleven, I—”

“Enough.”

His voice was quiet. Final.

Yuu didn’t understand. He was an authority figure. Why stop them?

“…Sir?” they asked, more uncertain than usual.

Lilia looked at them—really looked at them. Not like Crowley did. Not like a useful tool. But like something breakable.

“You’re a child,” he said, voice trembling with an emotion they didn’t recognize. “You should never have held a weapon.”

From that day, everything changed.

Lilia started showing up. Not just for magic lessons or combat drills. He made them tea. Brought them sweet buns. Taught them lullabies. Once, he handed them a plush bat and said, “For your nightmares.”

Yuu held it awkwardly. “I don’t sleep enough to dream, sir.”

“Then I’ll keep it for you until you can.”

They didn’t know how to respond. No one ever saved anything for them before.

Weeks passed.

Grim noticed they flinched less. Ace smiled as Yuu now said “No” when ordered around. Deuce grinned when Yuu accepted a high five—awkwardly, stiffly—but accepted it.

And Lilia?

Lilia called them his little soldier—but never like Crowley did. He said it with pride, but never expectation. With love, but never demand.

He started tucking them in, brushing their hair, sitting beside them in silence when the screaming in their mind got too loud. Sometimes he sang an old lullaby in a language they didn’t know, until the tightness in their chest eased.

Once, Yuu whispered:

“…Do you think I’m still a weapon?”

Lilia looked at them with eyes full of eternity and heartbreak.

“No, little one,” he whispered. “You are a child. And now… you’re mine to protect.”

Bonus:

Crowley tried ordering Yuu to clean all the bathrooms one day. Yuu blinked. “I’m under General Vanrouge’s command now, sir. Please submit all orders through him.”

Crowley sputtered, “G-General?!”

Lilia smiled innocently from behind Yuu.

“Oh, did I forget to mention? I’ve adopted them.”

Yuu didn’t smile. But they stood just a little straighter.

And for once… not like a soldier.

But like a child with a father standing behind them.

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part twenty-five

We're finally on our way to the fluffy weekend chapters!!! Eeeeee!! Y'all have no idea how excited I am to upload the fluff, it's going to be so gooddddddd!!!

Warnings: FLUFF, oh my god these two are fliiiiiirtinggggg, they're communicating???, JJ and Emily are meddlingggg, oh and drama with the case bc eek!

By the time Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss make it back to the BAU, it’s well on its way to ten at night, and none of them expect you to still be there, leaning against your desk in the bullpen waiting for them to return.

“JJ and Reid went home a few hours ago,” you explain. “Garcia and I have been watching movies in her lair,” you chuckle. “She fell asleep.”

Morgan hangs his head, shaking it as he laughs. “I’ll get her home. Goodnight y’all.”

“And I have a hot bath calling my name,” Prentiss says, grabbing her bag from her desk. “Night.”

“Night guys,” you say, your eyes falling to Hotch’s as soon as they leave.

Rossi looks between the two of you, smirking. “I just need to grab a few things from my office, then we can go home,” he says to you with a not-so-subtle wink. “Take your time,” he whispers.

You roll your eyes at him as he goes up the stairs.

You prop yourself on your desk, looking back at Hotch, but he’s still watching you. “What?” you mouth.

“Did you eat dinner?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. “We ordered in before Reid and JJ headed home. And Garcia and I have been shoveling popcorn in our mouths for a couple hours, so,” you laugh.

Hotch laughs too, the sound ringing like a sweet melody in your ears. He looks so tired, but when he’s smiling, it’s like all of it goes away. The exhaustion, the stress. The frustration with you.

You stare at him for a moment too long because then he’s the one mouthing, “What?”

You shake your head. “Nothing.”

He studies you for a second, the soft smile remaining. “You didn’t have to wait up.”

You shrug. “I wanted to make sure you got back okay.” You realize how it sounds a moment too late, so you barrel forward with a new subject. “I’m guessing my medicine cabinet tip didn’t lead anywhere?”

“No, it didn’t have one,” he says, taking mercy on you and not mentioning the other thing. “It was worth a try, though.”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “When I was taken, I remember that bathroom had one. I snooped in it, but it was just…vitamins and allergy medicine. Nothing scary. Or useful, really.” You pause. “Did you really think I’d be more useful here? Is that why you didn’t want me to go?”

He watches you carefully for a moment. “Yes,” he says, and he seems genuine. “But I was also worried we might be walking into a trap. Since you’re the one he’s after,” Hotch pauses, shaking his head, “I didn’t want to risk it.”

You hadn’t even thought of that. “Oh.”

“I know how it looked,” he continues. “But it wasn’t a matter of me thinking you weren’t capable of handling—”

“I know,” you smile softly. “I see that now.”

He relaxes. “Did Garcia find anything with the laptop?”

“Not yet,” you frown. “We’ll continue tomorrow, though.”

Hotch nods. “Yes, get a good night’s rest and we’ll start again tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you murmur, something in you not wanting this moment to end, standing here with him in the barren bullpen, in the dim lighting, his hair just a little messy, his face softer, the words you’re sharing with him softer than they’ve ever been. But it has to end, so you say, “Goodnight.”

And he nods once, taking the hint, the ending of the conversation. “Night.” 

He heads up to his office to gather his things. He talks with Rossi for a moment, but doesn’t leave with him when Rossi comes down the stairs to you.

“Don’t worry, I told him not to stay too late,” Rossi teases. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

“To your mansion, you mean,” you snicker.

“Details, details.”

+++

The next day brings with it the damning confirmation that the unsub is after Richard Monroe. Richard had emailed William before he escaped from prison, warning him, in various vague and ominous terms, that “he” was coming after them. William never got to write a reply.

Garcia projects the email onto the screen in the conference room. “So that’s…bad.”

JJ nods slowly. “Uh…yeah.”

“Richard sounds terrified,” Reid says. 

“Which means we aren’t going to find him,” you reply.

From the seat next to you, Hotch turns his head. “Why do you sound so certain?”

You stare at the words on the screen. “Gut feeling.” You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. You barely notice the hint of his lips tugging upward. “He was on the run from the FBI for how long?”

“Two years, ten months, and two days,” Reid rattles off. “Before Lila was kidnapped.”

“That’s a long time to be off the grid completely,” you nod in thanks to Reid. “I don’t know if we’ll find him. I don’t know if the unsub will even be able to find him.”

“Let’s not underestimate this guy,” Morgan jumps in. “He’s clearly intelligent and clever, I mean, we still don’t have any idea who he is.”

“Well,” you say, but you stop yourself, glancing once again at Hotch who gives nothing away.

“Well?” Prentiss repeats, leaning onto her elbows on the table. “Did you find something?”

“Not exactly,” Hotch says, looking at you.

Okay, noted, he wants you to be the one to say it. You sigh and look around at everyone’s worried faces. 

“We’ve been speculating, and I'm pretty certain now, that this unsub could actually be the same man who kidnapped me when I was fourteen,” you begin. “And that he could be a friend of my dad’s, maybe a distant relative, but I think a close friend is more likely. Someone who might’ve known me when I was younger before he kidnapped me, but obviously I don’t remember him — from the kidnapping or before that.”

“We always had the idea that the kidnapper might’ve been someone you or your dad knew,” Rossi explains.

“In situations like these, it typically is someone that knows the child,” Reid adds.

“Exactly,” you nod.

“So, what, is he obsessed with you because he wants to have round two?” Morgan asks incredulously. “Make you remember the kidnapping…why?”

“I have no idea,” you admit.

“Okay, he said we’re getting warmer,” JJ says. “Getting warmer to what? Finding out who he is?”

“I think he’s reaching a breaking point,” Hotch jumps in. “I think he wants us — specifically you,” he glances over at you, “to remember him, to know him and know his name. He wants us to know who he is so he can have the credit, and so, in his eyes, I guess, we can see how great he is.”

Prentiss scoffs. “Right. This guy probably thinks he’s the most amazing man on the planet and he just can’t believe you haven’t figured out who he is yet.”

“Precisely,” Rossi says.

“Alright, well, we know what we’re each looking at, so let’s keep going,” Hotch says. “Remember nothing is too small, and we need a handle on this before Strauss changes her mind.”

You chuckle at that. You knew it was unlike Strauss to allow you all to work on this case under her nose, and then order it to be your top priority. You imagine her patience only lasts for so long with a drawn out case like this when the BAU could be of use elsewhere. And there is always someone else who needs the BAU’s help.

Still, though, you all keep working. You and Hotch return to the files scattered all over his office, spending the day together pacing the room and analyzing whatever you can find. The team says nothing about the two of you spending so much time together — in a small space, no less — without arguing as much as you used to. Sure, there are some quips here and there, you snap at him and vice versa, but nothing like before. Not even close.

By the time the day winds to a close, you realize Rossi leaves tomorrow. Which leaves you. Alone with Hotch. For the weekend.

It’ll be fine. You’ll have to keep telling yourself that so it actually will be fine. 

The two of you have gotten along better than you could’ve even imagined or expected the past few days, but it’s been here. At work. With the case keeping you occupied.

You have no idea what’s going to happen if the two of you aren’t here, working on this case. But there’s no way you could convince him to come into the office on the weekend. Not even with how awful his balance is between work and home. He’s too… Well, you don’t know what to call it, but it’s something about the way he is about you. Maybe it’s because he cares. Maybe it’s not.

You don’t know anymore. And you’ll go crazy thinking yourself in circles like this, so you stop trying to make sense of it.

This is probably just what a normal, civil friendship looks like and you’re just losing it because you and Hotch and civil have never been in the same sentence before.

It’s so beyond abnormal for the two of you to not fight. And it might be becoming the new normal, if the two of you keep this up. If the two of you can figure out how to keep this up.

+++

Hotch decides, for better or for worse, that it isn’t safe for you to drive your car. You don’t argue with him. It’s suspicious enough that your car hasn’t moved from your apartment building’s lot, and if the unsub is watching you, it’ll no doubt be suspicious if your car moves out of nowhere.

The rest of the team lingers a bit in the office Friday afternoon. Rossi left to catch his flight a few hours ago, but no one else seems to want to leave.

“Is he packing away the files?” JJ nods up toward Hotch in his office.

You glance once before nodding, just to cover your ass. You know exactly what he’s doing because the two of you spoke about it. Neither of you can bring yourselves to put the case down fully for the weekend. Rossi has all but told you guys to stay out of the office, for God’s sake, just for the weekend, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take files with you — Hotch normally does it anyway. It’s not like this is any different.

“What’s that look on your face?” Emily asks, looking back and forth between you and Hotch.

“Nothing,” you answer quickly. “Why? What’s wrong with my face?”

Reid looks up from his book, narrowing his eyes at you. “Nothing’s on your face.”

“Thank you,” you say to Reid, gesturing to him. “I’m glad someone is on my side.”

Emily rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on.”

Spencer suddenly jumps up, nearly dropping his books as he rushes to put things in his bag.

“You good?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah, forgot I have a reading to go to,” Spencer says. “It’s for this biography I read last week about this astrophysicist— Anyway,” he looks directly at you, “enjoy your weekend with Hotch!” 

Your jaw damn near drops to the floor, but before you can scold Reid for that comment, he’s out the door and turning toward the staircase.

Before you turn back to Emily and JJ, all you can think is how glad you are that Morgan and Garcia are in her lair and not listening to this.

Emily is smirking when you turn back around. “So…your weekend with Hotch?”

You have no idea how Spencer found out about that, but that obviously doesn’t matter anymore. 

“Anything you want to share?” JJ shares a look with Emily, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Not really,” you grimace, putting your head in your hands. “Look, it’s nothing.”

“You’re spending the weekend with Hotch,” JJ repeats, grabbing a chair and rolling it closer. Emily does the same, both crowding around your desk with you like it’s gossip time in the middle of the high school cafeteria. “What are you doing?” she whispers.

“Nothing!” you hiss. “Rossi had that guest lecture to go to, and I don’t want to be alone— I probably shouldn’t be alone right now, so I…asked Hotch if he would stay with me. At Rossi’s. Just for the weekend.”

JJ and Emily share knowing looks.

“What?” you almost shriek. “What is that look?”

“Nothing,” they echo.

“Guys,” you deadpan. “It’s nothing. JJ, you literally have plans with Will this weekend. And you,” you look at Emily, “how many times have you canceled your fun plans for a case we’ve had? Too many!” You pause. “And Pen told me her and Derek already have a movie weekend planned.”

“Oh, right, a movie weekend that they wouldn’t possibly let you join in on,” Emily teases. 

You open your mouth for another excuse, but you don’t have one. And that’s all these are, really. They’re just excuses. You needed excuses for why you asked Hotch to stay with you without hesitation. Why you barely thought twice before asking him to stay with you, when you easily could’ve asked to stay at Pen’s with her and Derek. That would’ve made more sense. 

Instead, you asked Hotch. Of all people. You asked Aaron.

“Don’t look too closely at it,” you urge them, leaning into them both. “Please, it’s nothing. We’re just going to keep going with the case — just from the comfort of Rossi’s mansion instead of these stuffy desks.”

“Right,” JJ nods seriously.

Emily shrugs, agreeing, “Right.”

“I hate you both,” you mutter, standing to your feet. You glance up to Hotch’s office and see he’s starting to gather everything into his hands, and you’ve never been so ready to leave — with him, of all people. “I’m leaving. Enjoy your weekends.”

“Enjoy yours too,” Emily sings.

You give them both the bird as you walk away, up the stairs to retrieve Hotch.

He’s just flipping off the lights as you reach the second level. “Hey,” he smiles softly. “Ready?”

“Ready,” you reply. “Do you need help?”

“No, I’ve got it,” he chuckles, despite looking very much weighed down by his bag and file box. He glances behind him at the open door. “Actually, could you—”

“I’ve got it, move over,” you laugh, waiting for him to step out of the way so you can pull the door closed. He steps the wrong way, though, knocking right into you, and you roll your eyes. “Your other left, you dumbass.”

“Sorry,” he laughs with you, moving in front of you, closer to the railing instead. 

You shut the door, checking that it’s locked. “There.” You spin back around to see Emily and JJ not-so-subtly giving you and Hotch looks. “Goodbye, you two.”

“Bye,” JJ waves.

“Have fun,” Emily says.

You’re rolling your eyes as you leave the BAU, holding the door open for Hotch and then pressing the down arrow for the elevator.

“They’re still watching, aren’t they?” you ask.

Hotch cranes his neck. “Yep.”

“We have the nosiest coworkers in existence.”

“Comes with the job, I guess,” Hotch shrugs. 

“This is true,” you concede. “You’re just as nosy— probably worse.”

“Hey,” he laughs awkwardly.

“Hey,” you reply with a smirk, knocking your shoulder into his arm just as the elevator arrives. 

You want to say something else, but what? Is this where you’re both at now? Joking about him going behind your back and looking into your past? Is it something you’re just going to be able to joke about now?

What neither of you see is just down the hall, Derek and Penelope were heading out as well, though they pause when they hear you and Hotch speaking. They watch as you both joke, as you even give a flirty touch to Hotch’s arm.

Pen grips Derek’s forearm as his jaw drops just a little. “See!” Pen hisses. “I told you something was going on!”

[emakataken]

Part 4

This is pre-canon, slow-burn AU, Buck arrives at Station 118, ruled by Captain Gerrard. Tommy/Buck/Sal

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3

Forks scraped plates. A radio murmured from the kitchen. Gerrard’s approval hung in the air.

Tommy didn’t move. Just kept his eyes on Buck’s hand, where the fork had trembled a moment ago. His gaze flicked to Sal’s across the table.

“Petty Officer, huh?” Gerrard muttered without looking up. “Guess the Navy was setting the bar low that year.” The silence turned sharp. Buck didn’t flinch, but the line of his jaw tightened. Tommy’s knee bounced once under the table, then stilled.

Sal set his coffee down, deliberate, the sound cutting through the tension. “That’s enough table talk,” he said mildly. “Cobb, let’s do engine checks. Chim, you’re with us.”

“Copy that,” Chimney muttered, rising with a glance toward Buck.

Buck forced one more bite into his mouth before pushing up from the bench. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He reached for the broom.

“Actually, you don’t.” Sal’s voice was calm, final. “You’re on cool down. Grab an IV water and stretch out your back. That’s an order. Cohen and Rodric have the house today.”

Buck blinked, caught off guard, then nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Sal didn’t look away. “Tommy, make sure the probie follows chain of command.”

The scrape of Sal’s chair echoed as he stood, tension radiating off him.

Tommy was already moving. He didn’t spare Gerrard a glance. Just grabbed two water bottles from the fridge, snagged a Liquid I.V. packet from the cabinet, and followed Buck to the gym.

The gym was empty, air smelled faintly of rubber and sweat, the silence was a relief.

Buck dropped onto the bench press, not touching the weights, just resting his elbows on his knees. He peeled the Liquid I.V. open and poured it into the bottle Tommy passed him.

Tommy leaned against the rack across from him, arms folded. Watched him drink half the bottle in one go. “Hands still shaking?” he asked, quiet.

“Nah, blood sugar back up.”

Tommy reached without asking and took Buck’s hands, turning them palm-up. The skin was red, split in places. He didn’t say a word as he took out his phone and snapped a photo.

Buck’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Seriously?”

“Relax,” Tommy said, slipping the phone away. “Not sending it anywhere. Just… holding onto it.”

Buck snorted. “What for? Scrapbooking?”

Tommy didn’t rise to the bait. He studied Buck for a long moment, gaze steady. “You should’ve said no.

Buck gave a humorless huff. “Didn’t feel like I had a choice.”

Tommy nodded like that tracked, even if it pissed him off. “You don’t have to prove anything, you know.”

Buck looked up, eyes tired but clear. “Yeah, I do. That’s the entire point of the probationary period.”

Tommy’s jaw twitched. “That’s not what this is.”

Buck didn’t answer. Just took another sip of water, then set the bottle down beside the bench, he rolled out the yoga mat Tommy passed his way.

“I’ve seen more than a few probie wash out,” Tommy said, voice lower now. “Hell, I’ve seen guys break under less. But what Cohen’s doing? What Gerrard’s letting happen?” He shook his head. “That’s, this isn’t training.”

Buck let out a breath and turned his neck to catch Kinard’s gaze. “Gerrard’s not going to break me. I’m not going to let him get me killed.”

Tommy didn’t look reassured but he didn’t argue. He kicked off his shoes and lowered himself onto the mat beside Buck, legs stretching out to mirror his.

They didn’t speak. Just moved in sync, easing through motions, muscles loosening as Explosions in the Sky played low from the speakers, the soft rise of guitars filling the quiet between them.

The call came in just after nine, a kitchen fire in a small duplex on Magnolia and 12th. No reported injuries. Light smoke visible.

“Routine,” Gerrard muttered as the rig pulled up the the scene.

They moved as Sal took point, Hen right behind him. Tommy and Buck circled around the back, gear clinking softly as they moved toward the source of the smoke.

Buck stayed quiet as he checked the windows. He tilted his head to listen and placed his hand on the glass. No voices, movement or vibrations. Just the faint rattle of a ceiling fan and a dog barking down the block. “No signs of life.”

Tommy nodded and called over the radio. “House clear, fire started on the stove. Pot’s still on the burner. No visible flame, but plenty of smoke.”

They ventilated quickly, popping the rear window while Chim and Hen swept the interior. Buck set the fan up without being asked, checked the battery line, and angled it. Sal watched, noting how he didn’t glance as anyone for direction.

The homeowner, a young woman in scrubs, arrived ten minutes later, breathless and panicked.

“Kitchen’s a little scorched, but your home’s safe,” Chimney told her, voice gentle. “Could’ve been a lot worse.”

“Hey,” Tommy said as they packed up, voice pitched low. “Nice work.” Sal nodded as if he seconded Tommy’s words.

Gerrard passed by, tossing a glance over his shoulder. “Even a broken compass points north sometimes.”

Buck rolled his eyes. Tommy’s hands curled briefly at his sides.

The days moved on. Shifts ticked by. Buck rotated through B and C shift, filling in where needed, learning the rhythms of each crew. Eventually, he was placed full time with A shift.

He stopped fumbling for tools and started anticipating Sal or Tommy’s next move. His grip on the ladder grew steady. His hose coils were tight. The few calls he made on scene were clear and well thought out.

~*~

The call came just before midnight.

Apartment complex. Structural collapse. Multiple victims.

The ride was silent, no music, no banter. Just the occasional rattle of gear in the cabinets and the tight press of tension settling over the crew.

Gerrard broke the silence. “Hope our little sailor knows we don’t carry life vests for this one.”

No one laughed or even attempted to scoff.

When they arrived, it was worse than expected. One side of the eight-story building had collapsed in on itself. Rubble spilled across the sidewalk. Windows were blown out. Smoke and dust choked the air. People were crying, some screaming. A power line sparked across the alley, throwing off a shower of light.

Hen swore under her breath, her eyes wide as she turned to Sal. Tommy was already out eyes scanning.

Gerrard barked into his radio, but the words were lost to the noise. No one waited for his direction. They all looked to Sal.

Buck ducked under the caution tape and dropped to one knee beside a woman half-pinned beneath twisted railing. Her leg was bleeding, but she was awake, gasping, trying to crawl. He steadied her shoulders.

“Hey. You’re okay. You’re not going to move until we make sure nothing gets worse, alright?” His voice was calm, grounding her as much as it grounded himself.

He looked up, scanning the wreckage, then called out over the chaos. “Sal, we’ve got progressive collapse on the lower floors. We need an anchor line and a stabilization team.”

That snapped Sal into motion. His voice cut through the noise, steady and firm.

“Hen, you’re with me. Cobb, Chim, start triage, get the injured to the green zone. Tommy, take Buck. Sweep the interior, stabilize where you can, no heroics. Cap, we need more hands. Call in additional engines, mayday this shit, have dispatch send everyone they can. Let’s move, people.”

Tommy’s voice came over the radio more than once, steady and clear as he followed Buck deeper into the wreckage. The victim count kept climbing. A kid wedged beneath a collapsed coffee table. An unconscious man with a fractured skull. A woman curled in a stairwell, hands pressed hard to her own abdomen, blood slipping through her fingers.

Buck uniform was covered in dust, by the time the last victim was pulled free, the sun was high in the sky. Sal found Buck leaning against the back of the engine, forehead pressed to the cool metal, chest rising and falling.

A faint crack of splintered wood echoed from the site, and Buck flinched. His fingers twitched against the metal. For a second, his breath hitched like he was back in the dark.

“You, okay?” Sal asked.

Buck nodded, turning to catch Sal's gaze. “Ask me after I sleep, Deluca.”

Sal cracked a tired smile, clapped him once on the back. “Fair enough, Hershey.” @paperyowl

[rista-senpai]

Love you in the shadows

pairing: Sung Jinwoo x f!reader

summary: You are Antares’ beloved daughter. His biggest treasure, despite him being the CEO of the second biggest company in South Korea. He would give up everything within minutes just to see your smile. Even so, you failed to keep your father just as delightful, since you ended up as the secretary of his biggest rival, the number one CEO in your home country, Sung Jinwoo.

            Being stuck with a so-called ruthless man, feared by many for his authoritarian presence and cold, dark eyes, didn’t sit well with your father. Yet, you found them mesmerizing, something magnetic in those royal purple irises. Little did you know that the exact same eyes would see you beyond professional matters, forcing you to keep your feelings under a key, given the fact that you didn’t want to betray Antares.

            However, how could someone resist him, when it’s just you two in the middle of the night, lights low, soundless rain hitting the wide windows in his office, the air out of your lungs in seconds, when he looks so ravishing, words not being enough to describe him?

tags & warnings -> office au, forbidden love, secret relationship, reader falls in love with the only man she shouldn’t have been near, she fell first, but he fell harder, age-gap (reader is 24, Sung is 32), smut with plot

CHAPTER THREE

He changed.

You felt it first thing Monday morning, when the usual call for his coffee never came. Not a word, not a glance. Just silence echoing from behind the thick glass walls of his office.

At first, you brushed it off. Maybe he was just in early meetings. Maybe the weekend had drained him too. But by noon, the silence had calcified into something heavier.

He didn’t ask for the economic trend reports. His schedule sat untouched on the edge of your desk, his inbox flooded with unread messages you weren’t sure you were allowed to sort anymore.

Evening came, and that’s when you finally saw him.

Not the man you knew — not CEO Sung Jinwoo in his tailored confidence and razor-edged focus — but someone worn around the edges. Someone... else. His tie was loose, the top buttons of his shirt undone. Dark circles carved shadows beneath his eyes, and his usually polished hair was an afterthought.

Sleepless.

That’s the word that fits him now.

He didn’t acknowledge you when he passed by. Just a faint nod, as if you were another piece of furniture in the sleek office halls. You stared at your screen long after he disappeared, your fingers motionless on the keyboard. You couldn’t understand what went wrong — Saturday night kept replaying in your mind, forcing you to analyze every word, every look. But there was nothing you had done to deserve this silence. Still, you shoved that feeling deep down, like it would somehow dissolve on its own.

One of your worst ideas ever.

He didn’t ask for you in the following days either.

The clock was ticking. The meeting was just two days away. And he still wasn’t speaking to you.

With the weight of the entire office suddenly resting on your shoulders, you knew you couldn’t let this continue—not like this. Something had to give.

It was late at night, well past midnight, and as usual, you were the only two left in the building.

You found him in his office, the lights dimmed low, city lights casting fractured reflections across the glass walls. He didn’t look up when you knocked. Just muttered, “Come in,” like he already knew it was you.

You stepped in quietly, fingers curling around the file in your hand — a pathetic excuse to be there.

“You didn’t ask for today’s review,” you said softly. “Or yesterday’s. I just thought you might… need it.”

“I didn’t ask,” he replied without looking at you.

“I know.” You placed it gently on the corner of his desk anyway.

The silence dragged. Your hands fidgeted in front of you, unsure what to do, unsure if you should speak again. But the weight in the room was suffocating, and you were tired of walking on broken glass.

“Jinwoo,” you said — quiet, careful.

His gaze finally moved to you. Not sharp. Not cold. Just… guarded.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you said, voice steady despite the sting it cost you.

He leaned back in his chair, slow and silent. “I’ve been busy.”

“You’re always busy. That’s never stopped you from talking to me before.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand across his brow. “It’s complicated.”

You nodded, even though your chest tightened at the words. “I figured.”

Another silence. This one is less sharp, more resigned.

“I didn’t know what to say,” he said finally. “Something changed after... Saturday”

You felt it too. The way things shifted. Not in the moment, but in the aftermath. How quiet he got. How careful.

“I know,” you said. “But we didn’t do anything wrong.”

His eyes flicked to yours again, this time longer.

“Didn’t we?”

You took a seat across from him, hands folded in your lap. “You don’t get to push me away just because things got real. I work with you. I care about this job. About what we built here. But I also care about…” you hesitated, “clarity.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, then didn’t. His gaze dropped to the file again.

“You’ve been quiet. We can’t go into that meeting on Friday like this.”

“No,” he agreed, voice low. “We can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to make anything easy. I just… don’t want us pretending nothing’s happened. Even if all we do is decide to keep it professional.”

He nodded slowly. “I respect you too much to pretend.”

That surprised you. The raw honesty of it. No games. No shields.

“Then maybe that’s a start,” you said gently.

The tension didn’t leave the room — not entirely — but it softened. Like air finally moving after a long stillness.

“I’ll see you in the boardroom,” you added, rising to your feet.

He didn’t stop you. But just before you reached the door, he called your name.

You turned back.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t needed.”

You nodded. “You did.”

A small pause.

“But I’m still here,” you said softly.

Then you left.

And behind you, for the first time in days, he let himself breathe.

Of course, you didn’t let yourself think until the elevator doors slid shut behind you.

Only then, as the hum of the descending car wrapped around you, did your shoulders sag, and your lungs finally remember how to work again.

God.

You leaned back against the mirror-lined wall, eyes fixed on the overhead floor numbers ticking down, each one dragging the weight of that conversation further into your chest.

You’d done it. You’d gone in there, looked Sung Jinwoo in the eye — the man who hadn’t spoken to you in days, who could break your career with a single word — and told him the truth. Not just as his assistant. As you.

It felt terrifying. It felt like a victory.

Your hands were trembling.

It wasn’t even that anything between you had been resolved—not really. But something had cracked open. The silence had been broken. The air felt clearer, even if only by a fraction.

When the elevator doors finally opened onto the lobby, you stepped out with the kind of quiet defiance that came after a storm. The night was still, the city outside bathed in streetlight and glass. Your phone buzzed in your bag, but you ignored it. Not tonight.

You needed to process.

Not the work things. Not the reports or the meeting or the way the office had started to feel like a frozen battlefield this week.

You needed to process him.

The look in his eyes. The guilt. The guardedness. The fact that, despite everything, he hadn’t asked you to leave.

And more than anything, the way your heart still twisted when he said your name.

You pressed a hand to your chest.

"Get a grip," you whispered to yourself with a dry, humorless laugh.

But deep down, you already knew the truth. You could pretend all you wanted that it was just tension, just confusion, just proximity…

But tonight had proved it. You weren’t walking on eggshells anymore.

You were standing at the edge of something.

And for better or worse, you weren’t alone on that ledge.

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[dailylucacorderodimontezemolo]

Luca Lore: Abandoning Niki at the Dutch Grand Prix for No Good Reason*

*he had a very good reason

Back in the 1970s, there was no team radio. All communication between the team and drivers was via the pit boards. This led to things like James Hunt not knowing he was in third place, enough to secure the championship, in Fuji in 1976, and once again, James Hunt being told not to be cheeky in succinct British fashion.

Every driver had a pit board that the team held out as the car went by. This would usually tell the driver things like their position, the lap number, the gap to their nearest opponents, etc.

Someone who is not Luca, holding out Clay Regazzoni's pit board in 1975, while Luca hovers in the background.

Luca Montezemolo, team boss at Ferrari, right-hand-man to Enzo Ferrari, being prepared for high office at Fiat, protege of Gianni Agnelli, was expected to personally hold out Niki Lauda's pit board. Because Niki is a little princess.

Anyway, it's the Dutch Grand Prix in 1975. It's wet. Niki is trying to deal with what will become a race-winning Hesketh driven by his former flatmate James Hunt, in what Hunt would later call "the race of my life." And Luca is in the pits (likely place for him to be), on pit board duty for his pet Austrian.

Then James pitted early for slicks, and changed everything.

Luca was moving around the pits, particularly when Clay had boxed for tyres and Niki had ignored the signals (likely thing for him to do), and stayed out.

And Luca didn't notice Ronnie Peterson's car, and it hit him.

Footage of the incident is at this link - I recommend watching from about 45:50 for 2-3 minutes, to see Luca's unique management style and his accident in the pits, bookended by Niki explaining how you have no friends in motor racing and then agreeing that Luca is actually a friend.

Luca had broken his leg, and his arm. With the race in progress, there was no possibility of getting him to hospital, so he was stashed in the garage, in tremendous amounts of pain, with his leg elevated, to wait out the race.

Look at this poor injured baby.

He also couldn't do the pit board.

And he had a princess on his hands.

Meanwhile, James was fending off Niki on the track. Niki had a faster and better car, but James was Jamesing the fuck out of shit and managed to keep the lead. Niki later wrote "James drove beautifully, and there was a great deal of excitement," and it's clear from the podium photos that Niki was pretty happy his friend had done so well.

But.

He was also Niki, so he was not happy that he hadn't won. He went to the Ferrari pit, asked where Luca was, and stormed to to him, saying that he (Niki) had lost the race because Luca left him alone.

Luca says:

"Niki didn't see me for half [the] race, doing the signals. It was very familiar. It was not a question of the numbers and signals, it was also the face and the attitude. [mimics Niki's mildly hysterical reaction] "Listen, you left me alone for half the race!" I said "fuck off." For me it was even difficult to speak because I was [in] pain a lot. [...] It was a fantastic relationship." Luca speaking on Beyond the Grid with Tom Clarkson in 2018. (From 25:40 - 27:10)

It's telling that Autosport magazine asked if Hesketh could win again at the next race if Luca was out of action. It goes to show how important Luca was considered to Ferrari's success.

Luca did show up at Paul Ricard, and Niki won. History doesn't record if Luca had to do the pit signals on his crutch, but footage from subsequent races suggests that his injuries didn't slow him down much.

Finally, in this footage of Luca absolutely losing his shit trying to get a race stopped for safety reasons (my BOY), I think you can see a little hop/misstep as he runs down the pit lane at the end. This was less than two months after he broke his leg.