#YOU KNOW ITD FUCK HIM UP SO HARD

[dailynaeleon]

1: sharing interests

[horrorwebs]

why are men literally the fucking worst

[bangcakes]

.

[designernishiki]

sometimes i kinda wish mirei wasn't killed off because boy the divorced exes dynamic with majima could've been so god damn funny

[blusandbirds]

half the time i'm like okay maybe i see the landry and tyra ship and other times im like no i just wish they'd be weird besties who are bonded by the fact that he killed a man for her

[urlovebot]

cw: perv!sunghoon, sunghoon jerking himself off, pillow humping, panty sniffing, choking, mentions of cnc!

a/n: swoons i love him. hes so gross!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

sometimes its your panties, other days its your pillow, but today, its both.

"f-fuck." sunghoon moans out. his cock leaks as he rubs it against your pillow, your panties held in his other hand, almost smothering his face.

he wants to use you. he wants to dog fuck you into the mattress. force your head into the sheets and take you how he wants but he can't. not yet.

so instead he opts in for bunching your pillow up and pushing it against his cock for now. and it feels so fucking good. the friction against his length both isnt enough and is too much at the same time.

he cant wait for you to go to sleep and lay your head on this filthy pillow tonight. the thought makes his cock twitch and leak more, dampening his boxers. he felt nasty and weird but he doesn't care. he's fucking obsessed with you. and it's gotten so bad lately.

when you watch movies together, he intentionally spreads his legs so you can see how hard he gets just from looking at you. when he cooks for you, he makes sure to listen intently to the sounds you make when you're enjoying his food.

the other night he even fucked his cock right in front of your face as you slept.

he can't get enough of you. and thats proven as he fucks your pillow harder and rougher. his hips jerk back and forth and his cock drags along the length of your pillowcase. his tongue pokes out to get a taste of your cunt as his pace picks up.

as soon as the taste reaches his mouth, he whines out and just loses it. he quickly gets up, shoves his pants off and mounts your pillow once more. this time he folds it so his cock slides in between the crease and its so much better this way.

his mind wanders and multiple scenes pop into his brain.

he thinks about eating your gushy pussy and the way it'd gush onto his face. he imagines you stuffing his face into your cunt, fucking his face. using him. he wonders if you squirt, and if you do, you'd drown him in it.

he thinks about dressing you up in a cute little babydoll dress, tying a little bow around your neck and fisting his cock in front of your face. you dont even need to touch him. he just wants you to sit and look pretty while he defiles your face.

his final thought runs a shiver through his spine. he thinks about taking you while you sleep, how scared you'd be when you wake up to his thick, long cock filling you up. he'd wrap a hand around your mouth and tell you to "shut the fuck up and take it," as he roughly fucks you into the mattress. he'd hear your screams and pleas and cries and itd only spur him on further.

he's whining and drooling and losing himself in his pleasure. he stops giving a fuck about being careful. he flips onto his back and bunches the pillow up once more. he spreads his legs and begins to fuck the pillow vigorously. he doesnt care how much the dry fabric burns against the length of his cock, his only concern was getting off.

his eyes roll as he feels the burn in his thighs from how hard he was thrusting into the pillow but he fucking loved when it hurt. one hand moves from holding the pillow to his cock, up his body and to his neck. he does a curious squeeze and he sees white. he can't see or hear but with the way his throat aches, he knows hes being loud. his knees knock together and his toes curl as he spills his load onto your pillow.

sunghoons eyes open and he spots himself in your mirror. he looks fucked up. hair sticking to his forehead, neck and chest red from panting, pillow tight in his grip.

he promises himself that the next time he gets off, it'll be in front of you.

[yayasvalveplay]

the miners in transformers one probably aren't given any form of sex ed. not even abstinence only because that would let them know that fragging each other is even a thing. keep them not knowing, keep them hard at work, and you can control the population of workers super easily. as a bonus, having their cogs removed makes them so infertile as to be practically sterile. itd take practically nonstop interface to get sparked up. don't want any of the cogless bots popping out a cogged sparkling, might give them the idea that their cogless state ain't natural.

anyways, orion comes across this really awesome bonding exercise in the archives, won't you pleeeeeeeeease try it out with me dee? woah, this feels so good maybe we should keep doing this. orion ends up getting sparked up within the cybertronian equivalent of a week asdhdhshs

YES YES YES

Orion just finding what ever the hell he can in the Archives, comes upon like the equivalent to a sex tape with the primes. And then asks Dee if they can do the thing he saw Prima abd Megatronus did.

"Come on Dee. If Megatronus was doing it. Then that means it has to be good." He gets into the same position Prima was at, and has to manually release his valve pannel, because he saw Prima doing it. And then helping Dee out with getting to his spike since that wasn't shown but obviously he has to have it right?

Oh look he does. Well time to go to town.

And they'd this as constantly as they can. Whenever they get a break, sneaking to the roof top. If they have time, they fuck.

Of course this leads to the rare 0.0004% of getting sparked without a t-cog. And now the others are asking why Orions stomach is getting bigger.

Darkwing gets a wift of this new information and goes and ask Sentinel what to do. "Kill him. Throw him down to sub level 50 and have him starved."

Of course he meets Bee, (Darkwing forgor Bee was also in that sublevel) goes back and reunites with Dee and Elita, where they are all now on the run trying to protect Op and the sparkling he gave birth to up on the surface.

[queer-n-here]

mayhaps...... some corruption, breeding, mating press, cruel levels of edging and some dubcon if ok? with akutagawa and atsushi ♡ or poe and dazai.

second offhand idea would be using a controlled vibrator on them in public uwu

(with poe itd be more so him becoming our little fleshlight, to make it different from last ask with poe ;3) TLDR; I WANT THAT MAN IMPREGNATED!!!also remember to take breaks and not overwork yourself!!

~🕸

Aww thanks! Is 🕸️ the emoji you chose to be? 'Cause it's giving spiderman. Also oh my god?? You totally read my mind???

So here you go, Atsushi and Akutagawa! I changed the contents a lil bit, but I hope you like it!

Contents: Breeding, corrupting and overstimming Atsushi in front of a mirror. Putting a vibrator up Akutagawa's ass in public.

Warnings: Smut, top male reader, nipple play (Atsushi), breeding kink (Atsushi), corruption kink (?) (Atsushi), mirror sex (Atsushi), praise kink (Atsushi), dubcon, overstimming (Atsushi), sex toys (Akutagwa), public (Akutagwa), punishment (Akutagwa).

Nakajima Atsushi

Oh the thought of corrupting this man has me in a trap hold.

Holding him by the cheek as you fuck him in front of a mirror, making him watch every single movement of your cock as it slides in and out of his slutty hole.

Let him try to struggle to pull his face away from your grasp, but you both know that it's no use; if you want him to watch you fuck him then he will.

Make him focus on that bulge that appears and disappears in his stomach every time you thrust, the sound of skin slapping skin almost drowned in the lewd noises pouring from his mouth.

Atsushi would do anything you ask him to, so sit back and tell him to ride you, then watch as he flushes so beautifully you almost lose control and fuck him into oblivion yourself.

And then, as he tries to move his hips in a slow rhythm on your lap, tease and bite his nipples.

Hear him complaining about how he wasn't good enough yet at this, and make him beg for you to fuck him before you do, his tight ass clenching around you at the pleasure.

Tell him you're gonna impregnate him and make him birth your children. It'll make him arch his back like a little slut and clutch at your arms desperately, his brain all fogged and cloudy from the feeling of your cock in him.

Make him cum over and over and over again, only stopping to push him down on his back to put him in a mating press. He'll cry and scream, begging you to stop, to let him take a break.

But don't listen to him. Keep overstimulating his little cock and hole both, stroking in rhythm to each thrust that hits his sweet spots. Wipe away those pretty tears of his even as more drip down from his eyes onto his red cheeks.

Once you're done, take him to the bathroom and clean him up, whispering in his ear about how good he is for you, and how pretty he looks all fucked out, then watch as he gets hard again.

But don't indulge in him all over again just yet, make him beg and try to convince you that he NEEDS you to fuck him, to put your cock inside him and bully all those pleasing spots inside him with your tip.

And when you do decide to listen (because he's YOUR pretty baby after all, you have to take care of him) make sure you have him screaming and writing beneath you again.

Ryunoske Akutagawa

I can imagine Akutagawa being so bratty you have no other choice but to put a little toy in him on your next date.

He'd try to act like it didn't bother him, that there was no way this would even be a punishment that bad, but deep down he'd know what grave he'd dug for himself when he sits down, feeling the toy nudge ever so slightly against his walls.

So don't go easy on Akutagawa, switch the toy only on the low mode in the beginning, and then watch as your sensitive boyfriend tries to muffle his moans with his sleeve, disguise them as coughs and even use fractions of Rashoumoun to stop them from spilling.

But you wouldn't let him off that easily, would you? Sneakily use your own ability to pry Rashoumoun away as you switch the toy to the medium level, making Akutagawa gasp and shudder.

Watch as some people turn their heads to give him weird looks as you guide him to walk through a crowd on your arm, smirking when their gazes make him whine into the sleeve of your jacket.

Turn it up to high every time Akutagawa tries to open his mouth to speak. He tries to suggest sitting down somewhere? Interrupt him with five continuous seconds of the high level that has his legs trembling so bad he needs to clutch you to stand.

Then raise your eyebrows innocently as he pants and huffs, tears streaming down his face at the situation, and ask him what he was saying.

When Akutagawa tries to talk again, repeat your teasing, till he's begging you through whimpers hidden in his sleeve to please, please, PLEASE, just be nice to him, he swear he won't ever be bratty again.

So take him to a nice restaurant, and make him order for you two while you constantly turn the toy a notch higher, making him squirm and shoot you pleading glances with his blurred up eyes.

When the waiter asks if Akutagwa's feeling okay, he has no other option but to jump at the chance, saying that he feels a bit 'under the weather' before dashing away to the bathroom to jerk off.

Follow him to the bathroom, and put your cock in him right next to the toy before turning it to the highest setting.

Akutagwa'll never be bratty again (or so he swears).

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

miss faNGGGGG!!! MISSS !!!! FANGGGGG!!!!!! please spare some thoughts on brothers best friend oliver 🧎‍♀️im on my knees. cz like i think hed get a thrill out of the indecency of it and maybe sendo would deem you off limits cz you’re too “clean” for a guy like oliver and itd only fuel him harder…

SDJLFJDFLK g*d. i hate this guy.

i think.... with sendo.... you guys are like total opposites. sendo grows up as like.. the perfect athlete jock type son. super popular and stuff.

i know you say clean here but in my mind im imagining ur sort of alternative u just keep to yourself to yourself a lot you know.... like bear with me but because sendo is so in the spotlight u sort of develop your own thing and tend to have your own individual style. very Different i suppose. you're a little weird and otherwise super straight-laced. got bullied for being different at one point or another but found a few close friends in school etc

sendo is sendo so he's always been super popular. u drifted apart when he played soccer more and so while u know of oliver u dont rlly get to know him until he's already a slut lol. sendo tells oliver that u probably wont be his type (not to be an asshole but u are not usually like who he dates) and to not be around you in general.

oliver sort of assumes that u have some experience though. like you have a certain look and style of dress that makes u stand out. so imagine his shock and surprise when he tries talking to you and you're kind of meek. you're like super doe-eyed which makes it even worse. and olivers like. oh. i have to make it my lifes mission to fuck this kid.

and so he starts coming over and texting you a lot. you're . so naive. which makes sense considering all that sendo has told you. but he really gets off on just how easily you seem to trust him. guys lie you know? don't you have any sense of danger. but guys have never been interested in you and you don't think oliver is either.

you guys meet on accident in a 7/11 near your house once and he sort of. jumps on the chance to be alone with you. you just make it way too easy. like way way way too easy. he doesn't even have to get you drunk he just asks if you have any kissing experience and then asks if he can kiss you when you say no. and you're like oh i mean. i guess. and you're super clumsy and it gives him a weird boner.

you lose your virginity in an alleyway and in the filthiest way possible. no condom either. baggy hoodie stuffed into your mouth, basketball shorts down at your ankles, socked feet pushed up out of your sandals and your hands on the wall with oliver fucking you in public - squirt and cum running down the inside of your thigh. he's fucking you hard too, no mercy just his hands on his hips while he moans about how good your pussy feels around his dick

he's kinda horrible because he keeps teasing you the entire time. and then when you give him a fucked out look over your shoulder and ask if you can kiss again he nearly cums right there.

you're like drooling and your thighs are trembling. you nearly fall down in the middle of it because your legs are so weak. he ends up taking you home after the first round and fucking you some more after that.

weirdly i do think oliver in this scenario ends up dating you in secret. he gets off way more on your sex innocent reactions and hiding it than he thought. sendoes gonna fucking kill him later but well, it's not his fault you make such a noise when he fucks you face down ass up yk

[geee-three]

yeah no im fine dwbi

sorry 4 everything btw

What

What are you sorry for wwhat

You better be okay ehat the hell

[justbelievinginmagic]

like a waltz⎯ part 2: fondu.

pairing(s): ateez ot8 x fem!reader; this chapter is heavily wooyoung x reader focused with a bit of san x reader & yeosang x reader! series summary: when 8 mysterious bachelors arrive to town and fall for your charms, will you be able to reach your goal to be prima ballerina or be dragged into a selfish waltz between love and obsession? glimpse: wooyoung and you dance around one another for a month - will he commit to being your patron or will it all be a fun game for the mysterious stranger? somewhere in the distant future, you wake up. warnings/tags: inspired by Ateez’s Ice on my Teeth MV & Teasers, Mafia AU, Ballet AU, early 1900’s AU with some divergences in tech advancements (i.e if i think itd be cool to include, this world has it earlier than irl), 3rd person POV, use of YN, mxm, polyteez, MATURE topics, allusions to sex work in ballet, allusions to exploitation in ballet, implied sexual themes (not really for reader x ateez), strong language, ballet lore, angst, fluff, flirting, suggestive topics, lies, manipulation, wooyoung is a sweet gentleman, medical drugs, traumatic foot injury, unequal power dynamics, injuries, alcohol mention, reader discretion advised, +18 readers only. let me know if there are any more tags i should add. a/n: hi! i'm not completely happy with this chapter (mostly the ending) but it has doubled in word count so I thought itd be good enough lol. i love woo in this fic, he's sweet and flirty. he is the glue for the entire polyteez x reader later on. let me know what you thought of this chapter plssss. next chapter will probably have yunho x reader :) word count: 11k first chapter <- -> next chapter series masterlist read on ao3!

fondu; french pronunciation: [fawn-DEW]; sinking down, melting.

That wasn’t the last time she saw Wooyoung in the ballet boudoir. No, for the next seven days, he was there for every show whether it was a matinee or evening performance. He’d be there, sitting in his box - the cursed box number eight – dressed to the nines. She swore his eyes only watched her when she was performing; it felt like her own shining spotlight, chasing after her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth across the stage. It felt electric as she took glances up at his box to see his curled lips and opera glasses peering down at her. YN didn’t wonder where he looked when she was in the wings, because no matter what he’d visit her.

Her.

Not the other girls.

Not the Prima Ballerina.

Her.

During intermission and after the show, he’d be waiting beside the small vanity (the one she shared with four other ensemble members.) Never did his gaze stray to the other girls – and some tried to tempt. He was one of the most attractive men they’ve had in a long time, and the air of mystery he held was intoxicating. A viable bachelor, a way to climb. Ballerinas were hard-workers after all; they loved and knew the long game.

They’d swish past him in their enticing leotards, skin-tight with no tutu to complete their look. They would bare their neck as they gathered their long hair into a bun. Glance at him through their lashes as they stretched.

Still, he waited patiently, arms crossed as he leaned back against the white vanity’s desk. His brooding eyes zeroed in on the boudoir’s doors. Only when he caught her in his sight did he light up like a firework across the night sky.

“Hello swanette,” he’d coo out with the sweetest grin, hand outstretched to her.

“Hello Wooyoung,” it felt dangerous to call him by his first name, intimate. None of the others ballerinas called their patron by their first name – even the ones fucking one another.

YN wasn’t stupid or oblivious. She knew what this was – what this could end up being. She’d watch the prima ballerina, the principal dancers, really all of the rising starlets of the ballet over the years. They all covered their kiss-bruised skin with make-up, tugged on thick nylon tights that would hide their patron’s affections from audience’s view. She wasn’t sure if she wanted that – even with Wooyoung’s handsomeness. In some ways, her pride bit at the thought with rabid hatred; sourness on her tongue at the thought of not truly being different, not truly earning her way to the top.

Regardless of her conflicted feelings, Wooyoung hadn’t hinted at any of that – even after a week. He hadn’t provided monetary aid either so perhaps he was waiting. A bittered part of YN never understood patrons who didn’t sleep with their proteges. (But then again, it was rare to begin with. She hadn’t met one prima ballerina, one feature dancer who hadn’t slept with their patron.) She was always half-expecting him to let his hands dip lower and lower or high and higher, but, to her surprise, they remained fairly decent. He liked grabbing her waist, his thumb would rub circles over the boning over her bodice but it’d stay relatively far from anything intimate. (Any touch from a man in the public society was intimate though. She still flushed and felt the rush of feelings she didn’t quite understand how to place.) In her mind, he had yet to make a move.

Not even a cheeky kiss.

…

It was nice.

He was nice. She could sometimes forget that he paid to sit and talk to her in-between dances. He smelt nice; he looked nice; he acted nice. The fancy-free touches he gave with little thought were something she could enjoy considering the worser options. (Julia had covered up a nasty bite mark on her collarbone the other night.)

Wooyoung and her would speak of nonsense most nights – idle gossip, comments about the show, the dancers, the town-folk, and the bourgeoise that sat in the seats of the theatre. Who’s who in this town? He’d wonder, and she’s point them out under her breath; the men of the high-class with their wandering eyes and their wandering hands all over their own ballerina. Far cruder touches than Wooyoung’s reverent gentleness as he leaned close into her bubble to hear her whispers.

“That man is the owner of the factories popping up across the port,” she’d tell him, pointing with a lithe finger. (Luckily, all the men had one thing in common; they’d never glance upon another patron’s ballerina; they’d never look their way as long as Wooyoung remained distant.)

“Shohei Takahashi.” YN said, watching as the rich factory-owner pressed a greedy kiss to the mouth of the ballerina of his choice. “Huge factories with little pay. I blame the winter gloom on him.”

Shifting her gaze, Wooyoung followed her eyeline easily as he raised his drink to his mouth.

“That’s Lord Frederickson; he’s the biggest importer of goods. Owns the port and its processing factories. Anything coming in and out goes through him. He’s favored by the King – if you believe the King still has a say around these parts.” Wooyoung smirked at that as he watched her jump to the next.

“Kim Dohyun – big shot in the banks,” she said. “I think he’s trying to start a monopoly, but what do I know?”

“A lot,” Wooyoung replied, quickly, before taking a swig of his drink. His dark eyes slid over each man with a snake’s laziness before he locked his attention on her. “Brilliance and beauty.”

“Charmer.” She teased.

“Only for you.”

He’d flatter, flirt, and call her all sorts of sweet names. Beautiful, swanette, little swan, pretty swan, pretty.

-

The ballet was good for two things – pretty art and petty gossip. And despite her claiming she was an artist, first and foremost, she liked gossip just like anyone else. She was used to listening in, eavesdropping, or being told the news by the youngers. It wasn’t often she was the one gossiping.

“C’mon, he didn’t comment at all about Wooyoung?” YN asked one of the older ballerinas before a show.

“No, YN. He didn’t.”

It was a snap of an answer, but she couldn’t blame her. It was the third time she had asked. (Tiny had gotten her habits from someone after all.)

“I heard from someone that he was, like, like, a runaway prince,” said a younger girl, sighing out as she clung to the barre. “He’s as handsome as one.”

“Princes don’t run to Cromer,” Julia commented, tying her hair into a bun.

“But Lords do?” Everly snorted.

“Ha-ha-ha,” she sarcasmed out. “At least I’m getting my costume paid for next season,” Julia countered, tossing a sweater towards the other girl.

“So, none of the other patrons know him?” YN tried again, falling into a full stretch in frustration. Hunched over, she huffed.

“Nope – could be a traveler. You haven’t asked him?” Mina retorted.

YN struck a nasty face at that, scrunching up her nose. As if. Of course she has. All she had gotten was basics. He was from Aurora. He was in town for a while. That’s all she ever got from him.

Did he like the show? Of course, you were in it.

How was his day? Better now that he was here.

How was his stay in Cromer? Was it always this cold? He was too used to Aurora’s temperatures; he missed the bright sun and humidity.

What did he do for a living? Charm you.

It was like a game of chess, trying to get actual answers out of him. If he wasn’t so fun to talk to about other things, she’d be frustrated. Or more frustrated. After all, Wooyoung wasn’t like the other men in town – he was new and exciting. Despite all his mystery, despite the tell-tale hints of tragedy as a protégé and patron, she couldn’t help but begin to fall for the bright smile that greeted her at intermission.

-

It had been two weeks. He’s slowed his attendance to only every other night, warning her that he had other business to attend to on certain days. But he’d still hover around her vanity when he did show. He’d gotten more nosy she noticed. Not in a bad way. Fingers prodded at the make-up containers; he’d peer into her bag, spotting her folded clothes and sometimes a book or two in it. She noticed from the corner of her eye as she’d get ready for the next act, shimming into another feathered costume.

He’d lean on the edge of the vanity, giving her more room than usual and talking but not saying much and always, always, averting his eyes. It made a warmth bubble in her chest. Respect. He respected her. It was rare here. In under a few seconds, she had the new bodice on, snapped and tied with ease. Her skirt shimmied on and fluffed.

“Decent, little swan?” he queried, eyes still facing towards the ceiling.

With a true smile, she’d nod. Tonight, with affection bubbling in her chest, she reached out to cup his chin with gentle fingers and guide his face down to meet her gaze. His skin felt electric-hot beneath her fingertips like the hum of new-powered light bulbs at the cinema.

“Hello pretty,” he crooned. A tempting smile crossed his face as he shifted forward at her guidance. His fingers pressed against the vanity shifted to land on her waist. He liked the way the feathers felt, the beads he could fiddle with, and the warmth radiating from her.

“Spin for me?” he encouraged.

She held back an eye roll of fondness; when had she grown so fond?; he had seen this costume far too many times, but each time he had her spin about, and he’d grin and flatter and flirt. And she’d flush and flutter.

As she twirled, his fingers barely left her waist, feeling the fabric, feathers and beading twist and tug at him with her movement. He wished her hair would be out of the perfect tight bun, so it’d flow down freely. But Wooyoung didnt encourage such a thought – he was a reasonable man. For now.

“Beautiful,” he complimented, tugging her by her waist to stand in between his legs.

His fine velvet pants brushed against her nylon-tight clad legs. His fingers fiddled over her waist, dancing across beads and sequins, handsewn and delicate. Just like every night. He didn’t climb higher or lower, simply thrummed his fingers across her mid-section as he smiled at her pleasantly. 

“She makes it, you know,” there was an exclamation from a local eavesdropper, Tiny.

The youngster grinned over at Wooyoung from her spot, warming up on the floor. The little girl was cute in the eyes of Wooyoung; the tiny ballerina flashed him an innocent smile even when YN glared at the younger with a clear look of ‘shut up.’

“Makes what, kid?” he queried, glancing her way.

“Her costumes! We all do – or well, we all pay for them. Not YN though! She sews ‘em; all of hers are made by her!”

“Tiny,” YN tried to hush, but Wooyoung squeezed her waist playfully firm.

“Really?”

His tone was melodic as his gaze trailed from the tips of YN’s ballet shoes over her long-toned legs clad in white stockings with the smallest of rhinestones sewn into the fabric… over the white tutu before trailing around her bejeweled waist of beads, false pearls, and feathers. The feathers curved around her, hugging her chest. Everything was tied together with the pretty white-feathered clips in her hair. Everything looked exquisite.  

“You never told me that,” Wooyoung commented. He pouted at her.

That wasn’t the reaction she expected. Surprise, yes. Perhaps pity? Perhaps disgust? She couldn’t afford a seamstress after all. It was embarrassing.

“You never asked,” YN retorted.

He smirked, a rumble of a pleased laugh bubbling in his chest.

“I guess I hadn’t,” he admitted.

Had he asked anything about her… other than her dancing talent and the daily gossip of the theatrical world? He tilted his head as he took her in again. How much did she know about him?

Some questions he answered; others he twisted words until they were onto another conversation. His questions remained on her work. How long had she been in the ballet? How did a beautiful talented woman not have a starring role? Did she like it here? Did she like him?

Their conversations always ended back to that. More times than not she thought he was playing her like a cat would play with a mouse. While he paid for entrance to the foyer de la danse, like most of her suitors, he had not taken her up as a protégé. Most of the girls who had a patron reassured her that it took time. Some had to fall to their knees first before he agreed.

So, now when his head tilted as he examined her, it felt like the air changed. Ever magnetic but something deeper as his finger picked at a bead with his fingernail.

“You made this?” he asked again, fingering at the beadwork.

Its intricate pattern caught the light on stage beautifully, but he never noticed it made a pattern of a lily pad, ‘til now.

“Yes,” she said, shivering as his touch tickled her ribs.

He noticed her glancing aside, almost shy.

“What other talents do you have, swanette?” He queried, voice low.

“Far too many,” she teased before she escaped his grasp to go towards the now empty-vanity.

Tease them, the older ballerinas had advised. They like a chase, just be sure to let them catch you every now and then. Julia had told her.

There was the stain from their first meeting. A remnant of his rouge-covered fingers in the fine-wood of the ivory vanity. It never seemed to leave despite her scrubbing. Her finger brushed over it on its way to pick up a powder puff to press it into her skin. Wooyoung’s fingers trailed over her arm, looking over her shoulder in the mirror.

“You surprise me,” he admitted. “You know my hyungs love fashion – they’d love to meet you.”

“You don’t know my fashion-taste, Mr. Jung,” she told him, raising a brow. “Just my costumier’s taste.”

“Oh, Mr. Jung, hm,” he repeated in a tut. His chin pressed into her shoulder, face tilting ‘til his lips nearly pressed against her skin. Hot breath fanned over her shoulder down her chest. Gooseflesh tickled up her spin.

“Did I upset you?” he teased before whispering in her ear. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask about your pretty costume.”

She snorted, a bit unlady-like but it made his own lips twitch into a smile. He liked her smiling.

“It’s okay, Wooyoung,” she replied simply. “I didn’t expect you to.”

This wasn’t what the patrons wanted to talk about. Men never spoke of such things.

“I should’ve,” he corrected her. “I want to know about you.”

The air burned for a moment between them, his dark eyes settled on her in the mirror with the pull that only gravity had on someone. There was more here. In these moments, it didn’t feel like a game or an agreement or a partnership of exchange. Not when he looked at her like that.

“So, you sew?” he asked, still closer than acceptable for their society. Pressed into her back, his arms trapping her in. He urged her to lean into him, his chest broad against her back.

“My mother is a seamstress – was. She’s now in a factory rather than an independent shop.” She admitted. “I learned from her.”

“What about your dad?” he asked.

She shook her head before going to pressing powder into her skin with a puff. He huffed a bit as the perfumed thing invaded his nose.

“Not around anymore.”

“What did he do? Did he leave some coin around for you and your ma’?” he asked.

YN sighed out, reaching for the rouge pot next. “Miner. There used to be diamond and gold mines outside of town. I mean, there still are, but they aren’t like they were before. He never found anything worth anything – and when there was a cave in,” she sighed again. “My mother had always provided more; he didn’t leave much. Except me…”

Wooyoung’s hand soothed up and down her arm

“I can’t remember my ‘ma or ‘pa. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t define me. Don’t know much about them - if they sewed or worked at all. I just knew I had to work to survive.” He stated casually. “But Hongjoong, he’s like my brother - he sews in his free time. He’s made all sorts of things for us. So, I know a bit about that.”

Us… it was the first time Wooyoung had mentioned others. This was the first time she had learned anything about the mysterious man. YN itched to ask more about who us were, more about Hongjoong, more about what he had done growing up. How did he end up here, dripping in enough coin to go to countless shows, countless ballet boudoir meetings. But she didn’t know if she could. She didn’t want to pressure him. Push him.

“Maybe I’ll meet him one day?” she instead led, following his thought from moments ago. “Hongjoong and your hyungs?” she added. C’mon, tell me more, tell me more.

Wooyoung smiled bright, almost excitedly before his face fell dramatically. He was prone to that she’d noticed, ever expressive despite the stony gaze that fell over him when he didn’t know she was looking. His grin tumbled into a pout, big lips pressing out and puppy dog eyes gleaming in the gas-light.

He held her closer. “Not yet. I like having you to myself. They love the ballet – they’d love you.”

They. Us. Again, he spoke of others.

Who were they?

They’d love her?

-

In the third week, Wooyoung offered to buy her drinks from the Opera House’s bar, and she always refused. She didn’t want to fall into his arms intoxicated – especially with her aching muscles already. Alcohol wouldn’t help recovery. Instead, he made a game of bringing back a sweet from the concessions. Ones that the kids in the audience would nibble on. It’d always be half-eaten by the time he joined her in the boudoir – which made her smile. It felt intimate as she snacked on the other half of a cookie or taffy after the show. She’d sit on top of the vanity as he watched her eat.

It was during these times they began to talk about what they liked. Sweet or sour? Spicy or mild? What’s your favorite color? Hot or cold? What’s your favorite food? Favorite season? Favorite song?

She learned a lot about him. And he was sweet. His answers were sentimental as he yapped and yapped.

“I like seafood more than anything,” he said in between bites of the cookie she shared with him.

The boudoir was growing colder; the radiator had been turned off for the night. The hallway outside of the room was dim. She was in her own clothes for the first time; her costume hung in the costumier’s closet. Her worn-brown jacket was drawn tight as she and him sat on the vanity.

“Meat over vegetables for sure. But, any stew needs to have vegetables to feel right. But shrimp, mussels, clams, oh, tofu is needed too! Seonghwa makes the best stew – it reminds me of Aurora.”

He could ramble on and on, and YN didn’t mind it was so late as she made mental notes. Not just of the names he’d drop every now and then but his favorites. His preferences. She’d think about it as she made her own meals late at night – while she stood in front of the stove and stirred her potatoes and gravy. Was Aurora seafood better than Cromer’s? She’s only ever had the smallest of fish if they could afford one.

They were the last to leave the opera house that night, practically kicked out by the Madame who insisted upon the time. The moon hung high above them as they walked onto the main street of Cromer. The streetlights were lit; some flickered in the cold air; after all, not all lamps were gas yet. The cobblestones were wet with rain from earlier in the night.

“Let me walk you home?” Wooyoung asked. He was haloed in a gentle lamplight. His cheeks were round from eating the last of their shared treat and his eyes almost sparkled.

She swallowed. Don’t let them into your house; their house is the only fair game. She had heard the ballerinas warn her. Some even insisted on not letting them take you anywhere beyond the Opera House’s porch. There were plenty of spare rooms, they said.

Wooyoung was able to read her easier by the day.

“It’s late, YN. Please.” He insisted. “I’m a gentleman.”

His arm was offered, politely.

It was cold; rain was clinging to the clouds, tempting to pour.

He gave her another look, half-stern… half bratty? Wooyoung nudged his arm again in her direction.

“O—kay,” she conceded after a moment, taking his arm. He was warm against the cold.

But that was just Wooyoung after all.

-

“I saw YN walking home with her patron!” The gossip was electric the next morning.

“They’re in love,” Tiny swooned.

“They don’t know each other!” Another chimed.

“Did you—” there was a question on the tip of their tongues.

“Was he-“

“Had they-“

“No, no; he was a perfect gentleman,” YN reassured. “He stayed on the street as I entered my apartment. My mother had been watching from the windowsill. He simply waved and was off.”

Some of the ballerinas hummed their relief; others huffed their discontent.

“He’ll declare his patronage any day,” Julia whispered to her. “He has to.”

-

On the next Saturday, Wooyoung had ‘snuck’ in before the show. It was not often a patron was allowed before the show – it wasn’t as ‘exciting’ as intermission or after the show. The girls would be in their own clothes, usually warming up or trying to stay warm in the chilly room. His cheeks were flushed from the falling snow; he looked youthful as he bounded up to her, surprising her. Cold hands grasped hers as he spun her about.

Her hair was down. Her costume on, but her feet were in thick wool socks, and her face bare of makeup. It was a surprise he was here, and she felt the flare of insecurity, of worry, flush over her. He hadn’t seen her not so imperfect. Ballerinas were meant to be perfect. Wooyoung didn’t seem concerned as he lifted her into his arms to twirl her again as he chuckled and giggled. He sounded a bit like a hyena but it only made contagious giggles tumble from her own lips.

“Wooyoung,” she giggled nervously as he whirled them about.

All eyes watched her and him; some girls whispered in each other’s ears.

“Happy anniversary, pretty swan,” he chimed out as he finally set her back on the ground.

He looked at her with such innocent joy. His hands shifted from her form to cup her jaw and squeeze her cheeks. Over the past few weeks, his touchiness had grown. His favorite was to do just this, squish her cheeks fondly.

Dark eyes stroked over her features; her cheeks were pink beneath his fingers. Her eyes were bare of charcoal. Her lips were a nude shade. He noticed that despite his cold hands from the wintery outside that she was equally chilly… the entire boudoir felt cold at this time actually. A miniscule purse of his brow crinkled his forehead.

“Anniversary?” YN queried, raising a brow. Her hand rose to stroke the back of his hand softly, her blunt nails circling his skin.

The butterflies fluttered in her ribs, nibbling at her bones warningly. He was celebrating their anniversary? Had any patron done that? She’d have to ask the others.

He looked almost annoyed as if shocked she’d forget the day they met. The glower on his brow was handsome and statuesque before he frowned at her seriously. Her blood felt like fire, then; the skin on the back of her neck turned a clammy hot.

“It’s been a month,” he said, the words not as strict as his face. Instead, it sounded like a reprimanded child’s voice.

“Oh! I know that; I didn’t know you’d celebrate it,” she admitted, warm eared.

And she did. She hadn’t had a patron-suitor this long before but she kept count of the days. Noting them down with precision as she did with everything in her life.

He huffed; perfectly gelled hair fluttering with the action. Grumbling under his breath childishly of this and that, he took a too-close step into their embrace. His leg found a way between hers. He was so warm despite the melting snow on his outer coat.

“Of course I would,” he grumbled, thumbs going over the apples of her cheeks. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you. I do like it! I assume you’d-”

He was babbling at this point, grumbling about this and that quickly. She giggled, and his frustrations eased at its sound.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, hand squeezing one of his hands gently. “I’ve liked getting to know you, too.”

And she had gotten to know him… somewhat. His favorite foods, books, art, and whatnot. She knew that he had moved here over the past month, that he liked the ballet but loved theatre more. Singing was his favorite thing. He had money. He had asked her far more about herself. He knew she’d lived here her entire life, practiced at the company for nearly just as long as she’s breathed. He knew about her family and her mother’s-tired rants after a day at the factory. He knew what treat she favored; he knew that she got cold easily. He still felt like a stranger despite their closeness. Like all she saw was what he wanted her to.

“Of course, you have,” he preened before stepping back.

His hands left her cheeks to present a small velveteen gift box, almost magically.

“Now, accept my gift, pretty.”

She awed at it, insisting he didn’t need to while equally feeling chuffed that he got her something. It was a small box, and her mind raced to think of what could be within. Jewels, diamonds, perhaps it was just a trick… or a treat. Whatever it was she felt a hum of excitement. With a fond look at him, she took the box and opened it.

A pretty pearl necklace rested on a crushed-velveteen cushion. Polished silver-white pearls. She had never had pearls before. Never seen them so up close. Only replica pearls made of melted plastic were what she knew. These had a different sheen, a prettiness to them that felt ethereal.

Pearls were expensive; pearls are things upper-class women wore in multiple loops across their bared throats to tempt their partners to glance down at their bosom. They are status-symbols. She would’ve never been able to afford these – not even just one pearl. Meanwhile, he had bought her a long, long strand, long enough she could wear it in multiple loops. They glimmered and shined in the lamp-light as she carefully reached out to graze their pearlescent surfaces.

“Woo,” she breathed out. “They’re beautiful.”

She hadn’t expected this sort of gift – especially after how little monetary incentive came from him. Her eyes rose from the gift to meet his eyes. They were watching her face with tenderness. His smile curled on his lips, and he couldn’t help the rumble of a fond chuckle from bubbling up in his chest.

“To match you,” he said, easily, before his fingers grazed hers to lift the necklace. “Turn around, baby.”

Baby… he hadn’t called her that yet – just as she hadn’t ever called him Woo. He noticed that and couldn’t help the thrum of excitement, puppy love, adoration, whatever you call it, go through his veins.

YN did turn. Her hair was pushed aside by now-warm hands. Frowning, he felt how icy her skin was; she shivered as the pearls caressed her bare skin. Carefully, he clasped the pearls about her throat ‘til they rested across her decolletage in a double string of pearls.

She stared into the vanity’s mirror. Wooyoung smiled over her shoulder, content as a cat as he watched her admire herself. He sighed, fingers rearranging her hair to rest around her attractively. His fingertips grazed her hair for the first time, fondly, and playfully as he tousled her strands. His hands landed on her shoulders; she was cold, cold, cold. His hands slid from her shoulders to her biceps slow.

“So beautiful,” he sighed. “The necklace looks good, too,” he teased as an afterword, close to her ear.

Her cheeks flushed. A hand rose to stroke over the gift admiringly.

“It is pretty, thank you,” she turned around in his embrace, his hands sliding over her shoulders as she did so. He cornered her to the table. Her hands rested on his forearms, thumb brushing over his coat. She wiped away at some fallen snow, melting on the rich fabric. Glancing up with a genuine smile, she asked him: “What shall I gift you?”

He hummed low. Fingers slid up her arms slowly, eyes grazing over her face thoughtfully. Before he proceeded to unbutton his fine-woven coat-jacket. Her breath caught. What was he doing? Her eyes flickered from him to the room around them. Many of the girls were watching them brazenly. Some with lovestruck eyes as if witnessing some penny film in the nickelodeon; some were looking with jealous-ridden eyes.

She licked her lips, a flash nervous as he shook off his jacket with ease to reveal a fine silk tunic. It was a dark color; she realized he had worn nothing but black each night. Like a night sky shining with starlit clouds, the fabrics clung to his frame temptingly. She glanced up to his face as he swooshed his jacket over her bared shoulders. 

It engulfed her in warmth, his warmth. The intoxicating smell she had begun to recognize as Wooyoung smothered her. The deep spiced-floral cologne filled her senses of him, him, him.

She couldn’t help but let out a jittery breath, not expecting this from him as he smiled down at her, satisfied. He didn’t do much more. She wasn’t sure what she was worried he was going to do in first place.

“Wear them for me during the performance?” he requested.

YN shifted her arms, a hand raising to touch the pearls around her throat again before her other hand rose to catch the coat from slipping off her shoulders. His own hands rose to rearrange the jacket over her, rubbing her arms up and down slowly.

That was all he asked for? Even now, she knew other patrons would request far more. A kiss even wouldn’t have surprised her to be honest – he could’ve stolen one from her lips and not a person would’ve batted an eye in the boudoir. Instead, he warmed her, thumb grazing up and down her now-jacketed arm.

“I will,” she acquiesced. “The Madame might be upset at the costume violation,” she teased lightly. “But, I will do it for you.”

He laughed, the thing a crow-like tone. He hadn’t shifted from her, hands rubbing up and down still. “If she does, I’ll handle it. A pretty girl like you deserves pretty things. And to show off those pretty things.”

She smiled at him. She shocked herself as she rose up onto the tips of her toes, easily with her experience on-pointe, and pressed a sweet fleeting kiss to his cheek. She could smell his after-shave; his skin was soft and warm and inviting before she pulled away to smile up at him.

“Happy month of knowing you, Wooyoung.”

“Here’s to many more,” he smiled warmly.

-

The pearls clung to her neck tightly, tighter than how Wooyoung had clasped them. They needed to be so they wouldn’t clank and clink into her face with each pirouette and jete. She stood out in the ensemble with the pearls gleaming on her throat. No other ballerina bore real pearls except her. No one – not even Odette. And for once, she felt the eyes of the crowd on her. There was a murmur in the crowd; some pointed. But all she could do was search for Wooyoung’s eyes. 

She had a bad habit of looking up at Box 8 in general now. Her gaze would flicker up and up, head tilting as she snuck small glances towards the private box Wooyoung had claimed. Usually, she’d catch his eyes, staring at her solely and smiling a small smirk in the shadows of the theatre.

But it wasn’t just him today. In the shadows of the theatre, she could see his familiar form, his opera glasses glinting in the low gas light of the grand chandelier. But behind him, dark blurs of shades, were other figures. She squinted.

It shocked her at first, doing a double take as she performed a jete.

What? Who?

There were others with him; he turned to say something to the one beside him.

It surprised her that she knew the form of him so well to know even in darkness and distance that he sat in the front. But she knew in her core as the figure turned back to look at the stage. Wooyoung sat in the front in his usual spot. A figure sat beside him, shadowed in a brimmed hat. And one, or was it two, figures shifted behind him.

When she left the stage, she remained waiting in the wings, peering and squinting at his box.

“He has guests,” an older ballerina whispered in her ear, startling her.

“Is there a woman?” she whispered back, trying to get a good sense of the forms.

It looked like ghosts behind him, two…or maybe three shifting figures. She saw one lean forward and cup a large looking hand against Wooyoung’s ear. Glinting rings winked at her, taunting her as fingers hid the stranger’s face from view.

“That one looks like a man,” the same ballerina advised to her.

They both squinted as a reflection from the Odette’s glamourized costume glared into their eyes. Looking away, YN rubbed her eyes before looking back at the box. It looked like only three figures now.

“What of the other… others?” she asked.

“I can’t see.”

“Neither can I.”

All she knew was Wooyoung was not alone.

-

She tried asking about as they waited for the next cue – was there men? Was there women? What can you see? But when they crept onstage once more for their small promenade across the stage as a ‘flock’ of swans, her stomach dropped.

Box 8 was empty.

-

He didn’t come visit during intermission, and she felt uneasy. Had he left? Why? A childish part of her cried out it was their anniversary. Her fingers fiddled with her pearls. The Madame glared at her addition as she passed the large open doors of the boudoir but said nothing.

-

He didn’t come after the show either.

-

When she crept out of the Opera House, her pearls were hidden beneath a coat. And there was no sight of Wooyoung outside. A fragile thing in her heart peeked out and she swallowed down the disappointment as she began her walk home in the cold snow.

Why had he left? He left mid-show with his friends? It burned despite the chill.

-

The next day, YN felt nerves eating up her stomach. She was a creature of habit, a person of rehearsals and repetition. Why hadn’t he shown? Why did he leave? Was he unhappy she hadn’t gotten him something? Was it due to the kiss? Was she too forward? Was he unhappy with her? He had never not shown up to the boudoir after a show. He had never left during a show, and he’d seen the show countless times now.

YN had arrived early to the boudoir, hoping to practice away her worries. Clad in her warmest clothes, she began to warm up on the floor.  She only got so far when she heard a voice.

“YN!”

It was Tiny. Her footsteps were a flurry of tip-tap-tapping as she rushed towards her. “YN!”

The little one hadn’t changed into her costume yet, wearing a dark brown skirt and matching orange blouse. A hooded cape kept her warm.

“He’s one of the new bachelors! He’s one of the bachelors!” the young girl cried out in excitement as she charged into the room. Her giggles were light and fluttery as she bounced on her toes. “The ones who have taken over the Ateez Mansion. He’s one of them! He’s one of them!”

“What?” She paused in her movements.

“Your patron! Your patron! It’s in the paper! Remember his box had more folk last night, right? It was the other bachelors!” she squealed. “I heard from the newsie! ‘Kim Yeosang, the finest tennis player this side of the Atiny Sea, spotted at the grand Cromer Opera House last night accompanied by frequent ballet goer Kim Wooyoung and others. This is the athlete’s first public appearance in Cromer since his move into the famed Ateez Mansion.’”

“Kim?” she queried.

Wooyoung had introduced himself by Jung Wooyoung.

“Maybe they’re brothers!” Tiny exclaimed. “An athlete, YN! He must be fit. And handsome!”

“And rich,” another ballerina commented from across the boudoir.

YN was still confused. “He’s never mentioned brothers – I mean, he mentioned he had friends that were like his brothers. But the only name I’ve heard has been Hongjoong… Seonghwa.”

Tiny repeated the names curiously. “I didn’t hear the newsies say those names. Just Yeosang and Wooyoung! Maybe it’s in the paper. Do you have 5 coins?”

5 coins! It made her splutter. When did she have money to toss at papers?

“No,” she laughed.

“Well, I just thought with the necklace and all – he hasn’t paid anything?” Tiny gossiped.

Her cheeks flushed as she shoved the tiny ballerina away. “Not yet.”

Her hand self-consciously fiddled with the pearl necklace. Kim Wooyoung. It felt weird to think rather than Jung Wooyoung. And, Kim Yeosang, she wondered. She hadn’t heard the name but she wasn’t privy to most sports. Who had time for sportly leisure in this age – especially as a trained ballerina? But a world-known tennis player… it made sense how he’d have money. Why move here? Sure, it was a major port, crawling with trade, but it was just Cromer.

Hongjoong. Seonghwa Yeosang. Wooyoung.

Who were they to Wooyoung?

Were they here last night? Were they the reason he left without even a note of warning?

-

That night he didn’t appear in his box. There was gossip amongst the girls.

“Maybe it was too good to be true.” A dancer taunted

YN. Jealous and envy were bitter dregs of ballet society.

She found herself playing with his necklace more and more.

-

“Miss YN, if you continue to fiddle with that god-forsaken necklace on stage, I’ll rip it off your neck myself.” The Madame croaked, her cane thudding against the floor during their debrief of the latest performance.

“Sorry,” YN managed to get out.

“Sorry doesn’t fix mistakes. Which you’ve been making. Your pirouettes were sloppy all evening; improve or else I shall remove you from the scene.” Her words went in one ear and out the other. Like they had all night. She was just in her head.

She had thought it was different between them – why had he given the cold shoulder? Was it the cold shoulder? She wasn’t sure. Weren’t things fine between them? He had gifted her pearls for goodness sake.

When had she begun to care about the relationship? YN had never cared for her patron-suitors but… she did like Wooyoung. Had she disappointed him? Had his guests warned him away?

She licked her lips, barely hearing the criticism pouring out of the mouth of the Madame of the Opera House.

-

The next day at intermission, there was a white-papered note on her vanity. Bounding up to it excitedly, hope in her stomach, she unfolded it to reveal the too-neat cursive script of the Madame.

‘Remove the necklace or face a fee for costume violations.’

Her necklace was gone the next act. She couldn’t face any more costs.

-

It was two weeks before she’d see Wooyoung again.

When he did return to the Opera House, it was done in a Wooyoung style. Rather than waiting until intermission, he strode through the boudoir’s door with the confidence of someone who owned the place like he had on their ‘anniversary’. YN was by the vanity per usual; make up caked on her face and her neck bare.

“Hello, pretty swanette,” he greeted, his arms wrapping around her waist in an embrace. The scent of him hit her like a train – she hadn’t realized she missed it. Missed him. Her jaw tightened in annoyance.

No, she didn’t want to miss him. He was the one disappearing like a ghost. No wonder he stayed at the Ateez Mansion; he fits right in with the phantom stories there. Her lips were stern as she painted on her rouge with a fine-precision brush. She tried to not to make eye contact with him, tried to not to seek out what he looked like tonight. Were his cheeks rose-flushed from the cold? Was he wearing the silken tunic or a warmer velvet?

“Swanette,” he repeated, shifting her in his arms. Swaying her softly.

Her head tilted; her face twitched as she placed the brush down and grabbed the coal-eyeliner pot.

“Oooh,” Wooyoung cooed out. Minty breath fanned over her neck. “You missed me.”

His voice wasn’t pleading or angry or upset. In fact, it was almost giddy. He took pleasure in her displeasure. It wasn’t like she was giving him attention – or perhaps the lack of attention was so obvious, it was simply attention all over again. Intentionally ignoring someone meant they were on your mind. He was on her mind. She wondered for a moment was he like her – searching for the spotlight.

She finished applying her eyeliner as she felt his lips almost touch her bared shoulder. Her jitter was clear and he chuckled. Dark eyes watched from over her shoulder.

“Your necklace is gone.” He commented, pouting. Long fingers tickled at her neck, as if the pearls were simply invisible around the column of it.

No reply as she placed the make-up down, shifting in his tight embrace but never leaving it, never breaking the bond of his arm around her midsection. He smiled at that. So, for a moment, he simply laid his chin on her shoulder – waiting. He was an optimistic man and, even if she was frustrated, she didn’t pull away from him.

“Your left brow twitches,” he noted casually after a while, making her brow furrow.

“When you’re angry.” He clarified.

“How do you know that?” she countered, breaking her silence with a bite.

He smiled at her words. He got her to talk.

“I know you, swanette – which is how I know you are upset with me. I’m sorry I was gone.” He apologized.

She swallowed and glanced to the side. It was silly to be angry at him. He’s just--- a man. A rich boy with too much money to flaunt. This entire situation was stupid. She never pined after a man, after a stupid patron, too. She focused on her work not men. When had seeing him made her so… excited? And when had not seeing him ruin her day?

His pout came into view as he reached out to tip her chin his way.

“What else, hm?” he urged, thumb petting at her chin. “I was gone for days unannounced but what else could be making you distant?” He sighed, searching her eyes. “Was your necklace not pretty enough? Were the girls cruel? Were-“

“You had guests that Saturday.”

His eyes sparkled at that almost like the gleam of ice in a whiskey glass. He smirked. “Yes, I wanted them to see you.”

“They - you didn’t come to the boudoir.” She followed up her statement, shifting her head from his grasp.

He paused before like a cat prowling his gaze fell into a lazy leer. “Is that why you’re upset with me?” he crooned.

“I’m not—”

“Don’t.” he cut her off, sharp but not cruel. There was a jingle of a singsong in his next words. “You were jealous.”

Now, that made her splutter. “I was not jealous!” she turned around to face him fully. “You left before intermission and then stayed away. I saw you whispering to them!”

“You didn’t like someone stealing me away from you,” Wooyoung continued, smirk on his lips.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she accused him. He was acting like he was the one being courted after not herself. “I-I just wanted—”

“You wanted to meet them, hm?” he swept in a step to wrap an arm about her waist. It was strangely comforting despite their conversation taking a bubbling turn. Almost as if he was reassuring her with his closeness. “Wanted me to show you off?”

She grimaced, not meeting his eyes. Did she? Over the weeks, she had felt a lot, conflicting and confusing.

“I got your hopes up, hm?” he continued to tease.

“Are they your brothers?” she countered, seriousness to his teasing. “Hongjoong? Yeosang? Seonghwa?”

“I told you I don’t know my family, no brothers to my name,” Wooyoung replied easily.

“Your name maybe, but what is your name? Mr. Kim Wooyoung?” she said, raising a brow. Wooyoung’s tongue licked over his teeth as a low bittered rumble of a chuckle built. “Or is it Mr. Jung Wooyoung?”

“Jung Wooyoung to you,” he hummed. “Hongjoong and Seonghwa got me out of a tight spot. Yeosang is like my brother; I trust him like one. You remember a lot, don’t you, swanette?”

She nodded tentatively. It didn’t answer her burning questions of why were they there with him and why did he give her a false last name or did the papers have the wrong one?

“He said you were the prettiest there. He had wanted to meet you – I wanted to show you off, swanette.” Wooyoung reassured.

“Why didn’t you?” it sounded of a whine and her cheeks burned in humiliation. Why did she want him? Was she so used to his praise and attention?

Thumbs went up and down her sides reassuringly. “We got pulled away, is all. It wasn’t intentional. I had wanted them to meet you. I swear it.”

Wooyoung was a charmer, she knew this. But his words tasted so sweet, so honey-sweet. It was hard to question him when it felt real.

“You didn’t mean to leave?” she asked, feeling foolish. Foolish for wanting to know, foolish for asking, foolish for caring at all.

“No,” he laughed out. “Trust me, I’d rather spend time with you than what I got caught up in.”

There was a pause as she took in his face. He had a faint cut over his brow, covered by his perfectly styled hair. Her eyes fell back to meet his gaze.

“Say you missed me?” he encouraged, leaning forward with a smirk. “It’s been weeks; you had to miss me?”

Was this a game? Was this the way patronage felt? A tug back and forth between enjoying their presence while being dreadfully aware that this was all paid pretty folly for them.

“I missed you,” he said when she took a moment too long.

Another beat hung in the air as she pressed her lips together, trying to decipher her confused emotions. There was just one emotion she could figure out.

“I missed you, Wooyoung.”

-

“What happened to your pretty pearl necklace?” He asked later that night. Their tension had eased only a smidge. He sat on the corner of the vanity; multiple treats sat beside him on a silver platter. An apology he said. It had all of her favorites.

“Madame requested I no longer wear it. I’d receive a fee to my costs.”

He scoffed. “Stupid. I’ll talk to her.”

“She won’t take to talking,” she laughed. “She’s the worst woman I’ve ever met.”

“Does she give you a hard time?” he queried.

YN nodded her head as she took a bite out of brownie.

“She’s always disliked me,” she admitted. “I wasn’t as dedicated to dance when I was young. I liked reading and wanted to go to school like the rich girls in the audience. Madame thought I was disobedient.”

“You were just carving your way,” he said.

She shrugged as she offered the other half of the brownie to Wooyoung. He took a nibble, his mouth forming over her own bite.

“I’ll pay the fee,” he said softly after a moment. “Wear it tomorrow.”

He reached up to tuck a strand of her free hair behind her ear.

-

There was someone with him once more. Box #8 looked cramped with Wooyoung and this mysterious man sitting side by side. Throughout the entire act, all she could see was them. Wooyoung grinning and whispering to the mystery man.

Waiting in the boudoir, the pearl necklace around her neck felt hot, like it was on fire. When Wooyoung bounded inside, he looked ecstatic. 

“I brought someone to see you,” Wooyoung revealed in a false whisper, the tone muddled loud with excitement like a child keeping a secret. “I told you I wanted to show you off.”

His hands squeezed hers before with a flourish he spun her around. Hands leaving hers only to find home on her waist. Holding her steady as she was faced with the broad chest of a suited man. Fine fabric draped over his form, tailored from his large shoulders to his lean waist. Spectacles rested on the bridge of his nose, a gleam over his eyes. His hair neatly gelled back into a pompadour.

“Swanette,” Wooyoung’s timbre of a voice was close to her ear; so close, that he could smell her perfume, her hairspray, her hair gel – all aromas that made up the blossoming scent that was uniquely her. Intoxicating. His breath kissed her skin and made her shiver. She could feel the pearly white of his teeth smile against her. “YN, this is San.”

San smiled a smirk down at the dancer, his amber brown eyes flickering to look at Wooyoung. Approval burned in his eyes, and Wooyoung’s grin grew.

San’s hands weren’t large or imposing like his form as he reached for her hand. With gentleness, he clasped her hand and raised it to his mouth. The cat-like smirk didn’t fade even as he pressed a short kiss to her knuckles.

“Miss Y/N, Wooyoung has spoken so much about you,” San’s voice was lower than Wooyoung’s, and it held a honey sweet tone. He hadn’t let go of her hand. “You are a beautiful, talented dancer.”

“Thank you,” she shook his hand softly. “I appreciate your kind words. And it’s nice to meet one of Wooyoung’s friends.”

Wooyoung’s chest rumbled against her back. He squeezed her hips, fingering the place where the beads of her bodice meet her tutu.

“Sannie is my best friend,” he whispered close to her ear. “And he isn’t a kind-worded man; you must’ve really wooed him, swanette.”

San rolled his eyes, hearing Wooyoung’s words. His fingers twitched in her grasp before he let go of her hand carefully.

“Don’t slander me.” He warned before his eyes settled back fondly on her. “I’m a very nice person, little bird.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she replied. “How do you know Woo – did you grow up in Aurora?”

San’s face twitched at the mention of Wooyoung’s previous hometown. “I’ve known Wooyoung since we were tots.” he said, agreeing.

“Do you stay at the Ateez Mansion as well?” she queried.

San nodded. “I do.”

“He likes to decorate the place. He like shiny things.” Wooyoung added, half nuzzling into her shoulder.

“And he likes to blab, if you haven’t noticed,” San countered. “I thought this was time for me to meet the woman you couldn’t shut up about?”

Wooyoung’s hands rose off of her waist in defense at his friend. A curling smirk on his lips, teasing… bratty.

“Excuse me,” he snarked. “I’ll leave you two to it then.”

He stepped away, making her turn to glance at Wooyoung. His face looked serious but there was the air of teasing that Wooyoung just had. His dark eyes shifted from his friend to her with a cat-like slowness.

“I’ll be back,” he pressed a quick kiss to her temple, surprising her.

Her heart jumped and stuttered. He had never done that before. Her ears turned bright red to rival her rouge lipstick.

San smiled at her, his first true smile. It wasn’t curling or seductive but boyish. A grin that made his eyes shut and his nose scrunch. A soft laugh rumbled from his chest. He eyed her with that same grin as she rubbed her temple where his lips had touched, shocked.

She looked after Wooyoung as he scurried away, a rhythm to his steps. His hands tucked cooly into his jacket. If he had been facing her, she’d see the coy grin, boyishly spread on his face. Maybe a cocked eyebrow.

“He’s affectionate,” San revealed. “I’m surprised he hadn’t stolen a kiss yet.”

“He’s a gentleman,” she defended, blushing.

“Gentleman, huh?” the broad-shouldered man repeated with a lilting brow.  He glanced towards the multi-storied doors that he just passed through.

“As much as a man can be while spending money for the boudoir,” she commented. She blinked once and then twice. “I mean— all the men here are gentlemen. . . “ Her laugh was awkward, fumbling.

Perhaps the kiss shook her up a bit too much or YN was surprisingly too comfortable around San already – loose lipped enough to break the allusion of the foyer de la danse. There was a pause before he leaned in. She leaned away out of instinct, hands and form pressing backwards into the vanity. San’s smile hadn’t shifted from his lips nor did the playful grin change to anything offended. He kept her trapped there.

“I don’t know much about this opera or ballet shit,” San admitted, his voice bashful despite his profanity as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “While my household have plenty of enthusiasts... I’m a bit of a novice at this, Miss YN.”

It was charming his confidence in not knowing. It was also charming how he covered for her insult, shifting the attention.

“I see,” she murmured. 

“This is all new to me,” he glanced this way and that at the room. “Wooyo had said he had befriended the prettiest dancer, not that he came to this. What is this place?”

He didn’t sound cruel or tricking. He sounded curious if anything. He leaned forward on the vanity, one arm pressing into the wood to hold his weight as he leaned in close. It reminded her of when she and Wooyoung met. The closeness, the intimacy, the magnetic energy. She thought it was strange to have it with one person, let alone two, but here they were.  

She licked her lips as she ghosted after his gaze around the room. The boudoir in front of her looked like its own scene out of an opera or play. Every girl in their spot; every patron a leading role in their own fantasy.

“Ballet is costly, Mr. San,” she started, her tone low and quiet. He hummed in response.

“These gentlemen-” she continued her post-humous correction through gritted teeth. She saw one of the regular patrons slide a hand over a ballerina’s thigh lower and lower. YN scowled, looking away for the benefit of the girl. “-pay. They pay to see us up close, to talk to us. Our time is theirs.”

“And?” he continued, tearing his eyes away from another patron and his ballerina.

“And anything else they want is theirs,” she managed to get out.

San frowned before spotting Wooyoung returning from where-ever he had ran off to, now carrying back three glasses. One was precariously balanced in between his ring-covered knuckles as he hurried back with careful steps.

“Hello, love birds,” he called, raising his brows playfully. His eyes darted at the closeness between the two of them. San shifted politely away from her.

“Love bird?” he repeated to his friend. “Says the peacock fluffing its feathers.”

Wooyoung crowed out a laugh. It caught the attention of a few ballerinas.

“I’ll take that. I’m handsome.” He flipped his head back to push away his hair that has swung in front of his eyes.

San’s smile returned with ease as he swooped in to grasp one of the glasses before anything more spilled to the wood planks below.

“Swanette?” Wooyoung offered one of the glasses her way. In the glass was no amber liquid but water? She raised it to her nose and sniffed suspiciously.

“It’s just water, baby-doll,” the smaller man reassured.

“She’s a smart one,” San commented.

He smiled politely before taking a sip of his drink. His actions were slow around her she noticed. Or maybe Wooyoung was so high-energy that his friend felt slower in comparison. He moved with intention. Careful. Concise. 

“What were you chatting about?”

“Nothing.” They both said at the same time.

“Intriguing,” Wooyoung countered before smiling wide.

He looked so happy. His smile was so comfortable and yet beaming. She didn’t know it but she was matching the look on her own face. San glanced between them, fondness crinkling his eyes. He cleared his throat.

“Miss YN was just explaining the boudoir to me.” He repeated.

“Boudoir… isn’t this the foyer de la danse?” Wooyoung queried.

“Nickname,” she tried to reassure.

“And what did she say?”

“It’s a whore house,” San said cooly, taking a sip.

Her face flushed at that. “No, I did not!” she exclaimed. Wooyoung glanced between them, amused.

“She wouldn’t have,” he snorted in agreement. “She’s a lady.”

“Its essentially what she said,” San sighed out, raising a brow at his friend.

There was a long moment between the two men before the smaller man looked to her. Wooyoung glanced her up and down.

“Is that true?” he whispered. Concern flashed in his eyes.

“Woo, I – “ she glanced aside, anxiety tumbling. Like theatre, the façade of the boudoir worked only when there were the illusions in place. But now Wooyoung’s careful concerned gaze made her feel like something was wrong. Trouble. Like the theatre was aflame. Like something was changing. “I’ve never- Wooyoung has been my first patron.”

“I’m your patron?” he bumbled out, brows pursing.

Had he thought… they were something else? San had called her his friend. The woman he wouldn’t stop talking about.

She nodded nervously.

“I thought so – you hadn’t paid but the necklace, the treats, everything-“

“Swanette-“ he started, talking over her as he took a step forward. But she didn’t have another chance to voice her words. San’s arm curled over Wooyoung’s shoulder.

“It’s a good thing we’re her patrons,” San insisted. “Patrons like them-” he glanced around at the men in the foyer de la danse with disdain, taking a protective step forward as well. “-aren’t to be trusted.”

YN was shielded from the boudoir in that moment. Like a bird caged in, but was she truly caught? Or was she in the warm embrace of a nest?

San looked at Wooyoung with a little nod, and, with that, the shorter smiled.

San grinned at her, and it sent a zing up her spine, electric.

“I’ve got you, honey. We’ve got you.”

And YN believed them that night.

-

In the dark of another night, her eyes flickered open. She wasn’t in the expensive automobile, nor cradled in Seonghwa’s arms. The last thing she remembered was the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the smell of everything that made Seonghwa Seonghwa. Bittered ground coffee beans, warm vanilla, and a hint of something deeper, something like burnt florals. Elegant and strict-cut like him. How many nights had she spent consumed by that scent in his sheets?

Now, she felt a strange conflicted fondness for his scent. It comforted her as much as it made her stomach churn. A bittersweet situation.

Even now as she blinked her crusty eyes, YN sought it out. Sought him out. It itched at her anger. He wasn’t safe now. Were any of them?

She went to move, push off the too-warm sheets from her form. The room crackled with a lit fire-place; the smell of smoke was heady in the air. She could barely move. Her body didn’t hurt, but her limbs felt slow and sticky like she was submerged in honey, melting into molasses. With a small whine, she shifted under the luxurious covers of the bed restlessly, rustling them as she tried to push herself up.

“Be careful, sweetheart,” a voice rumbled out.

Her bleary eyes shifted to look around the room. Ah, of course, it wasn’t her room. Her sheets were never so heavied. Her fire-place wasn’t ever lit. He stood in front of the flames, a pick prodding at the logs.

Her face sturdied, frowning at him as she tried to move again.

“Don’t move too quickly, sweetheart,” he sounded soft as he put back the pick and approached the fluffed bed.

“Are you in pain?” the man asked, kneeling beside her.

He smiled fondly at her, a hand going to wipe hair out of her face. She wanted to turn away from the love written over his face. Her numb legs reminded her of what had happened. It hadn’t been a nightmare.

“Don’t touch me,” she mumbled, blearily.

“Are you in pain?” he pressed again.

He petted her hair back, tucking it behind her ears. She felt coddled like a pet. Her brow twitched.

“I can get Yunho; the doctor promised him that he gave you enough medicine that you wouldn’t feel a thing until tomorrow’s check-up. If you are –” the man chuckled lowly. “He’ll have hell to pay.”

She glared. The mention of doctors, of Yunho, of everything made the flickers of her rage burn.

“Yeosang, stop,” she bit out. The haze of sleep was fading and as she took deep breaths of the smokey air she felt her anger grow.

His smile faded for a moment at her abrupt command. He licked his lips as his hands mother-henned about her. Fixing the covers to lay lower, fluffing a pillow. She wanted to wiggle away.

“Yeosang!” she snapped again as he continued to fuss.

“YN.” His voice rumbled out warningly.

There were footsteps outside his door. He glanced towards it before, with a deep sigh, he shook his head.

“I know you’re upset.” Yeosang sympathized softly. His hands slid from the comforters to rearrange her hands to rest on her stomach. His fingers intertwined with hers. “But you don’t need to be hurting on top of that. So, I’m going to ask again – are you in pain?”

She glared at him. Why did he have to look at her with such softness? Such devotion. Did he plot her injury? Did he know? No, for some reason, she felt like Yeosang couldn’t manage such cruelty – even if he was cruel on the court. And there was the glaring obvious fact that he hadn’t been in the mansion for some days.

“YN,” he pushed again.

“No,” she admitted.

Her gaze fell to their interlocked hands. His thumb brushed soothing circles and the occasional ‘x’ across the back of her hand. He smiled, small and kind. Relieved, she realized.

“Good,” he breathed before he leaned forward to press a warm kiss to the back of knuckles.

Her fingers twitched. He didn’t move after the kiss. His chin rested there on her stomach as he stared up at her. Yeosang always held this reverence, similar to Wooyoung. Eyes of devotion she used to think, but unlike Wooyoung’s playful gleam, Yeosang’s had a look to his eyes. Of seriousness. It wasn’t a darkness, no, his eyes were the most honeyed-ambered of the bunch, soft and gleaming like a fire-place’s embers. There was no humor, no teasing, when it came to her. Steadfast, knowing.

He breathed in her skin, lips hot against her skin.

“Why are you here?” she asked after a moment.

He frowned at her, head unmoving.

“You were away on business – you had been gone for days,” she continued. “And now you are just back?”

“I heard what happened to you, sweetheart,” he offered. “I had to come back.”

“How did you hear? It’s only been hours – no letters could reach you that quick.” She retorted.

Yeosang’s smiled against her knuckles. “I had a feeling.”

It felt like he was painting an ‘x’ on a treasure map – all pointing to the fact that she was right. They had done something – they had known something; they had planned this. Her own lovers. The same men who had made her melt into the idea that she was safe with them.  

She scoffed and, with the little energy she had, she pushed his cheek away from her. It didn’t do much. How much pain medication was she on to be so weak, so drowsy?

“Seonghwa had mentioned you were upset, but not this upset,” he pouted as if she had slapped him.

“How would you handle this, Yeosang?” she bit back. “If someone had broken your arms? Your wrists?”

He’d understand; he had to understand. He was dedicated to his sport; the fearsome Kim Yeosang. Awarded countless first-places and countless prizes for his talent on the court. But instead, she saw this sadness flood his gaze. Not tears, no, he never cried.

Yeosang’s hand rose to stroke her cheek with a gentle forefinger. Far too gentle compared to the harsh words, he spoke next.

“I would have never tried to leave, sweetheart. I know better; I wouldn’t have tried it ever.”

[whispering-ways]

Hear me out. Softdom!Mike (fnaf) takes you to work with him and wants you to cockwarm him while he looks over the cams

˖⁺‧₊˚♡ checking the cameras ♡ ˚₊‧⁺

◉ summary: mike takes you to work, but you become incredibly bored incredibly quick. luckily, Mike has a solution for that.

◉ pairings: mike schmidt x reader

◉ tags: cockwarming, nicknames like love and baby

◉ notes: anon I literally adore you for this, i know in my bone marrow that Mike is a soft Dom!!! hope you like this short fic!

You were always a fan of true crime since you were little. So when your boyfriend, Mike, offered for you to come with him during a shift, you jumped at the opportunity. I mean the place was just riddled with mystery; I mean missing children at an entertainment place? You knew there had to be some sort of clue to what had happened so many years ago and you were going to get to the bottom of it.

You were expecting a fun night of snooping around, but Mike had said that was absolutely not allowed. It was understandable; he was working hard at this gig and he couldn't have anything fuck it up for him. 

Nevertheless, it actively killed any excitement the pizzeria once had. It didn't take long for you to become absolutely mind-numbing bored. You'd practically done everything you could in Mike's office. Flip through manuals, make paper swans out of old napkins, watch the training VHS tapes, there was nothing more you could do within that office.

"Well, almost nothing," you thought, looking over to Mike. You had to admit, he looked pretty good in a uniform and it's not like you had anything better to do. You walked over to his chair and climbed in his lap, thighs trapping him down to his seat. 

His focus shifted from the cameras to you, moving his hands to hold you up from the small of your back. "What's up love?" he asks with a soft but tired smile.

"Babe~!" you said dragging out each syllable. "I'm so bored...can I please just ride you?" you whine.

Mike's face flushes red, but it slowly leaves as he lets out a tired sigh. "As much as I'd love that, and truly I would, I'm too fucking tired for that and plus I've gotta watch these cameras baby."

You didn't want to push him, so you nod your head, dissapointment written all over your face. You lay your head in the crook of his neck; if you couldn't have his dick inside you, you were at least gonna cuddle him. 

Mike hated to see you upset like this. How could he concentrate on work when his love was in his arms feeling so sad? He patted your back, making you sit back up. "Why don't you just cockwarm me for a bit love? Itd be nice to have you around me while I look at the cameras."

You nodded enthusiastically, happy at the compromise. You quickly reached to pull your shorts off, leaving you in your panties as you ground down on his crotch. Mike put his hands on your hips, pulling you up just enough for him to unzip and push his pants down just enough for you to have access to him. He placed you back in his lap gently and you conrinued to grind down on him, feeling his erection poke through his boxers.

It didn't take long for you to pull down your panties and line yourself up with Mike, impatient to have him inside you. You slowly slipped the tip in, hissing at the stretch. 

"Fuck baby, you're so tight~" Mike groaned out. You loved how raspy his voice would get every time you both messed around. You slipped all of him inside you, finally bringing your hips down to his. His dick filled you up in all the right places; although it was average in size, it made up in length with thickness. 

Instinctively, you started to raise your hips to ride him, before feeling Mike's hands on your side again, pulling you back down roughly. "Remember you're just cockwarming. Don't disobey okay? If you're good for me, maybe we can mess around later after my shift."

"Ugh~ fine," you say reluctantly, sinking back into his  chest.

He chuckles at how much you wanted him. "Good girl," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

Something about being so close to Mike managed to make you sleepy and although you did your best to prevent it, you felt your eyes close.

You woke up to Mike tapping your back again to let you know it was time to go back home. You look up at him groggily before noticing you'd been cockwarming him all shift. Mike wordlessly helped put your clothes back on and led you back to his car, letting you sleep in the back seat as he drove him.

After checking in on Abby and sending the babysitter away, he brought you to his bedroom, gently laying you down on his bed. You instinctively pull the blanket around you, only to have it ripped away a few seconds later, the cold air now jolting you awake. 

You look up to see Mike above you, blanket in hand and a smile stretched across his face. "Baby you can't go to sleep just yet. I have to reward you for being so good don't I?" he said in a low voice.

[activesplooger]

Vox x Mom!Reader | Had this idea, heres a prompt I was thinking of:

———————————————————————

You had worked for Vox for years, yet you two knew very little of eachother. He had always thought you were more of an attractive employee, but that was the extent of his personal feelings for you.

One day, you came into work with your 4 year old daughter, Amelie. You apologize profusely for having to bring her in and how unprofessional it was. Vox wasn’t a huge fan of kids, however, he didn’t mind too much since you were a good worker and you had promised she wouldn’t leave your side.

Amelie ends up escaping your cubicle unbeknownst to you and stumbles upon Vox’s office. Amelie bothers Vox for a bit and begs him to let her watch cartoons on one of the various moniters he has in his office. Amelie, being a child, rambles about her home life and mother even thought she probably shouldn’t have and certainly said wayy to much. “Do you have dad? I dont.” “My momma is so funny she always worry!” “Why does momma always work so late here?”. Vox pries a bit and finds out about your personal life.

He knew Amelies deadbeat dad wasn’t in the picture, and wasnt paying child support. And well, his workers wages werent great, even if you worked hard and worked overtime. Suddenly, he has an idea.

He invites you out (which shocks you) and cuts right to the chase. He explains his situation, which essentially is just that hes touch starved. He makes an offer, he’ll help you out financially if you have “sessions” with him as he pleases.

This offends you, of course, did he think you were some kind of whore?! You were about to tell him off until he offers you 5k per session. Fuck. You didnt want to do this… But it could help you a ton. You were living paycheck to paycheck and struggling to support you and your child. You reluctantly agree, but set some boundries like no one can find out. Hes definitely fine with that one, hes not too fond of other people knowing.

The first couple sessions are purely transactional, and seeing Amelie light up at the new things you could finally afford made it all worth it. However, as time goes on, the sessions get more passionate and loving. You two start to actually care about eachother and even move in together. For “convience” is the excuse you two came up with.

Amelie pretty much adopts Vox as her new dad, despite him bluntly telling her hes not every time. One night, you get caught up in something (idk) and cant make it home for a session, nor can you take care of Amelie. Begging Vox to babysit her, he finally agrees.

You come home and find Amelie in Vox asleep on the couch, Amelie clutching onto his arm and snoring softly. He had a storybook in his limp hand slumped against Amelies small figure.

Time passes and you three become a little family. A tad dysfunctional but… still, family.

—-

rushed i just had a thought lol. do ygs fuck w this? lol i thought itd be a cute lil prompt :)

[hannieehaee]

teasing you over your crush on them - vu

hhu, vu, pu

content: gender neutral, very minimal angst, fluff, the crush is kinda implied to be reciprocated.

wc: 705

a/n: i took so long to get to the pu version of this sorry T-T

masterlist

jun -

you'd have to be a bit obvious for him to notice your crush, honestly. someone wouldve probbaly had to point it out to him, telling him that your crush was obvious to everyone but himself. this would change everything for him, instant imaginary lightbulb lighting up in his head. he'd somehow think itd be a great idea to fluster you on purpose to test out your crush, but would grow immediately addicted to his effect on you, amping it up more and more as time passed.

your distancing from him would be noticed almost immediately, with you avoiding him when he'd seek you out. he would feel so dejected (and even a bit hurt) by your sudden dismissal. he'd give you a bit of time alone before confronting you, apologizing if he ever made you feel bad. he had just been so excited at your feelings that his own feelings took over, not leaving him room to consider anything else. you'd make up pretty quickly, with him promising that he'd be the flustered one in the relationship from now on to make up for his actions.

soonyoung -

it wouldve taken A LOT for him to realize you liked him. he thought you were just being nice! would grow immediately overexcited at the thought of you liking him, now going on a mission to constantly impress you whenever he had the chance. would eventually even grow the balls to tease you about it, trying to incite you into returning his flirting.

would feel extremely dejected if you pulled away from him at his flirting. did he read it wrong? did you not actually like him? fuck, did he ruin a friendship over some stupid jokes? eventually he would approach you, pout adorning his face as he asked you why you didnt like him like that. he liked you like that. why was the concept of him liking you so bad that you had to keep away from him? would be shocked but happy at you returning his feelings, explaining that maybe you had misunderstood his reciprocation for teasing.

minghao -

he can be a bit of a smartass at times, so it wouldnt be surprising if be felt a bit elevated at the thought of you having a crush on him. itd start with him chuckling whenever you were flustered at him, eventually evolving into straight up throwing sassy comments at you that would have your face heating up. he just found your reactions so cute, he couldnt help himself.

he'd immediately notice you begin to distance yourself from him at his teasing, deciding to open a line of communication with you right at that moment. would not want to risk having hurt your feelings over something he considered to be some lighthearted fun. it'd be a bit awkward for you, but he would talk to you about your feelings, letting you know that he hadnt meant to make you feel bad, but had found you so endearing he couldnt help his teasing. this would likely be the start of something between the two of you.

chan -

the moment he noticed your crush, he would instantly make jokes about it any time the two of your bantered or joked around each other. wouldnt think too much of it, although it would bring him a bit of an extra confidence boost knowing that you held a torch for him. he was already a pretty charming guy (damn anything his elder brothers had to say about it!) so it wouldnt be hard for him to fall in the habit to subtly flirt with you in the middle of banter.

if he ever noticed that maybe his flirting or his jokes went a bit too far, causing you to drift away from him, he would feel instant regret. feeling like a fucking dumbass, he would immediately go to his brothers for advice, who would all scold him and tell him to apologize. would probably still feel too awkward to do it, choosing instead to give you some space. this would only last so long as his own resolve broke, missing you too much and seeking you out to apologize, maybe even confessing his own recently discovered feelings for you.

[hyewka]

dominating..ceo soobin….dominating CEO SOOBIN!!!

using his tie as bondage ..haha im normal about this haha..but hear me out!!!!! hes a total nepo baby, getting the ceo position because of his father. different than his older brother in the sense that he thinks following in the steps of his father is his duty, none of that sense of “carrying tradition” translates well to his work though bcs he effing fucks up virtually everything that he touches. terrible at his job (nobody really tells him though) that his father has to literally hire someone to take it upon themselves to make the right decisions..so basically he has his CEO title for show. terrible at negotiation but not at asserting his dominance in the work space lol has the face of steel, not cracking a smile at any formal work events (not everyone knows hes playing with the cuffs of his stupidly expensive suit behind his back).

networking networking..networking!!! you approached mr. choi for networking. like everybody else. being friends with your ceo is unlikely, but being friendly with him would give you some perks. itd be hard though, considering the reputation he holds (cold, aloof, distant…bleh). with your simple black dress paired with pearl accessories to compliment it and your glass of wine in hand, you walk up to the rigid man by the weirdly empty bar. soobin is…awkward, really awkward. stumbles around his words when he offers a longer response to you, definitely is unprofessional with the way he just cant hide the blush on his cheeks and the fact that he even mildly finds you attractive. okay so change of plans, you’re flirting with your boss. harmless fun, everyones sort of drunk and in their own world with their plus ones anyway. “what department do you work in?”

“mm, you’re quite a curious guy.” you hide the amused smile managing to break through at seeing how his eyes widen, looking like his brains working at hundreds of miles per hour, “i’m in marketing.”

“oh, i hope you don’t take this the wrong way—sorry if you feel uncomfortable with so many questions.”

“i don’t mind them, keep asking.” you were definitely crossing an invisible territory with the way you bat your lashes at him, swirling your drink, pushing your tits up..just a bit.

himbo soobin getting more tipsy by the minute, he definitely becomes a little loose, a lot more confident with his words, though more susceptible to your teasing remarks, getting flustered every time you decide to slur your voice and actually hold eye contact.

now imagine you end up pushing soobin in a bathroom definitely not meant to fit two, at the party where hundreds of your coworkers are present, and giving him a fucking …handjob. “the bathroom?” he whispers, shocked at his whereabouts. you don’t pay him much mind as you hurriedly unbuckle his jeans, “raise your hands.” you order.

when you realize he didn’t listen to you, you take it upon yourself to take untie his tie, to which he audibly complains, “wait no—my outfitttt..”

“do you want to get like, the handjob of your life or are you going to keep being a whiny bitch?”

you’re not sure where the surge of confidence comes from (considering he could fire you with the snap of his fingers), but it shuts him up. using his expensive tie to keep his hands restrained, arms up high while you play with the himbos dick, haha…im gonna pass because the way hed be sooo whiny, whimpers slipping through but even more so when you experiment with dirty talk to see how he reacts—trying an insult about his work ethic, and how everyone sees him as incompetent, destined to throw the company to the ground..oh yup, there it is, his dick’s reacting. beads of precum’s dribbling down his tip, and you coo having found what he likes. “mr. choi likes getting degraded? imagine if your subordinates found out…”

“don’t—don’t tell anybody..please” its barely a whisper through the gasps you pull out of him every sudden speed up on his girth, but you could pick up on it.

you could’ve reassured him that you won’t, his secrets safe with you, pathetic ceo who likes to be dominated by a woman?!?!! scandalous!!! you obviously wouldn’t tell anybody, and you’ll make sure to clear that up after this but…having some fun wouldn’t hurt. not when you’re already giving your boss a fucking handjob. “my mouths tight shut… if you follow through. no cumming unless i say so.”

[soobieedoo]

Formula of Love CH. 11.5 - the first shift (written)

word count: 542

you subtly watch haechan at work. for the past 2 hours, you both have been silently working…well, at least YOURE trying to. he keeps trying to make a conversation with you but you reply back with short answers to end the convo quickly.

attempt 1

“how are you?” haechan asks as you sit at the computer looking at the prescription orders for the day.

“fine” you reply back not even sparing him a glance.

attempt 2

“hey, youre in intro to chem class too right? how was professor kim’s recent quiz? it was absolute hell for me” he chuckles.

“hard” slightly annoyed as you lose count of the refill of pills youre currently counting.

attempt 3

“y/n youre going on break right? you hungry? i packed some snacks he-” he tries to hand you his box of chocobi snacks, and then the clinic bell rings signalling a customer has entered the store.

“y/nie!! im here”

haechan recognizes his face, dance guy, hanbin was it? what’s he doing here..? with…bags…of food. suddenly feeling embarrassed about his offer he quickly puts back his pathetic box of chocobi in his coat pocket and watches as you run up and hug him.

Now, 30 minutes until closing, you feel slightly guilty. He stopped trying to talk to you and he keeps…sulking. You have a hard time focusing on your work for the rest of the night, guilt on the back of your mind. Is he really that bothered? why is he even-

“you mean to tell me you went 2 weeks without your allergy medicine? do you know how dangerous that is?”

“i didnt have time! you know i’ve been too busy practicing for soccer tryouts!”

“yeah yeah just take it and leave, we’re closing in 30 minutes park jisung” he deadpans to who you assume is his friend. they seem close but there’s been a shift in donghyuck’s usual friendly tone.

finally done for the night, you lock up the clinic, you watch as he gives you a small wave and walks away…..fuck it.

“donghyuck!” you have no idea what youre doing.

he stops in his tracks, he looks around before he realizes that it’s actually you that’s calling his name.

“um, hanbin gave me wayy too much food. i remember you told me once you like kimchi jjigae and i have some here left untouched. i can’t eat this much food on my own and itd be a waste to throw it away, so you should take it with you home” you slightly tremble as you hand him the bag, you look anywhere but him silently praying he takes the bag. why isn’t he taking the bag?

he laughs. you look at him confused, is he making fun of you? feeling embarrassed you begin to bring the bag back towards you but he grabs your hand and takes it. he gives you that smile again. that damn smile.

“thanks y/n i’ll enjoy it well” he stares at you and suddenly youre feeling self conscious.

“yourewelcomehaveagoodnightdonghyuckenjoy” you scramble out, you give him a quick wave before speed walking towards your dorm.

haechan stares at your back as you quickly walk away, he tries to calm himself down but he just cant seem to stop smiling.

note: just a cute mini chapter for their first official shift together hehe, trust u guys y/n has a soft spot for him she just doesn’t want to admit it 😁🙏🏻

taglist: @bloomyroses @lionzyon @ourbeautifulaffair @yewshi @injunnie-lemon @nessaassen02 @dudekiss3r @jianreadsaus @haechsworld @catpjimin @onlyhyunjin

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