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honeyhotteoks · 13 hours ago

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across stardust - two (j.yh); section one

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you’ve never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he’s so much more than a crush, he’s your soulmate. one | two (*section one); (section two) | three | four 🔗read on ao3✨ across stardust pinterest board

note: i hope everyone enjoys this chapter. it's wildly fluffy and wildly romantic, and then deliciously smutty so i hope everyone enjoys.

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, suggestive language, allusions to a past ex who pressured her into things she wasn't ready for, anxiety etc., and finally the smut; heavy makeouts, grinding, oral f!receiving, convos about oral m!receiving, lots of fingering, lots of cock touching, earth shattering soulmate sex, rough sex, soft!dom/pleasure!dom yunho and wide eyed sub!reader, heavy on the dirty talk, HEAVY on the praise. we got a lot of good girls in this one, and good god tagging for gratuitous use of pet names from yunho. lots of missionary and missionary adjacent positions, spooning sex to idk he's on his back and she's on top but laying on him it's hard to describe but by god is it hot please enjoy

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 28.1k

**this part was too long for tumblr's new word count guidelines! please check out the second half of this part, here!

The tour ends in Paris of all places. After weeks of concealing your growing relationship with Yunho from everyone, it feels like the universe is rubbing salt in the wound bringing you to the so-called city of love.

For weeks as you hopped city to city, a whirlwind of language and culture and food, you found yourself living for the quiet, stolen moments with him. Quick visits to each other’s hotel rooms and even faster kisses, but never a full night. He hugged you briefly in Amsterdam, left a single rose on your station in Rome, bought you a cashmere scarf in London when the weather took a turn. You catalog these moments in your memory, and scribble down musings in your travel journal, and try not to judge yourself for saving every little scrap of your secret relationship down to the gift receipt in the bottom of the bag and one of the rose petals (pressed dry between the pages of your latest read).

Paris feels different though. Everywhere you look there are couples snuggled close in the winter chill, and though you aren’t necessarily one for public displays of affection, seeing it like this makes your heart ache. You’d at least like the option. But despite his little gifts, you and Yunho have been doing your best to be subtle, mitigating even the smallest glances, and getting to know him over text. It wasn’t enough, but you could cope, until now. Until this city. You weren’t supposed to walk through a city this romantic alone, not when your soulmate was a few blocks away in a hotel room. You were supposed to be with him.

He feels your ache though, and you feel his.

Besides, it’s almost, almost over.

In Paris, you all have an extra two days to account for the end of the tour and flights home, and the electric energy of being almost finished and almost home has everyone buzzing. The members are jittery with anticipation but so is the staff, so close to being back home and in the arms of their loved ones and with a belly full of Korean food.

On the last show, after soundcheck runs perfectly smoothly and the pre-show rituals have all been checked off without a hitch, it goes to shit. Venue delays, an issue outside getting the fans inside, leaving the stadium only half full at the call time.

It’s not the first time this has happened of course, but it is the first time for this tour and to have it happen on the last day leaves everyone groaning.

“They couldn’t tell us this twenty minutes ago?” Hongjoong asks one of your production team.

They had been moments away from starting the introduction lights and music, the boys had already gotten up onto their rising platforms when a member of the venue staff had jogged all the way backstage waving her arms and trying to explain in a mix of French and English that they had to wait.

“They said thirty minutes,” The staff member replies, “we won’t have to make any cuts, but anything over an hour we’ll need to start,”

“Fuck,” Hongjoong’s jaw tightens, “Sorry, I apologize,”

The boys are gathered tightly around management and the production staff and you, Iseul, and the other members of makeup and hair step forwards to listen in.

You can’t quite catch all of the conversation, but then there’s some nodding in the center circle and Sunhee, the head of tour production, turns and addresses everyone as they shuffle into a semi-circle around him, “Alright, we’re running on a thirty delay,”

Everyone nods.

“If we hit 60, we’re electing to cut Deja Vu, Silver Light, DLWB, and Eternal Sunshine,” He explains, “We’ll shift Wave into the 8th block behind Dreamy Day, yes?”

Everyone nods again.

“That’s a setup we’re already prepared for, correct?” He addresses the sound team who nods, and then looks to every other team who follows suit before he continues, “If we need to cut more, we need to be prepared for a lot of small changes. It’s possible we lose Win and Fireworks, and that’s not something we want to do. Everyone needs to be on strict standby until we get rolling, I don’t want to be looking for anyone in the bathroom or finding out someone stepped out for a smoke, clear?”

There’s a chorus of responses.

“If you need a break, do it in the next five. Every ten until lights, we’re right here.” He’s a clear, no nonsense leader, but everyone has their marching orders.

The group breaks up after that, several staff hurrying off to the bathrooms now and a couple of the BB Trippin dancers slipping out the back access door for a cigarette.

The members are talking amongst themselves in a tighter circle, planning choreography changes and ment changes to tighten up the time, and you try your best to not look at Yunho for more than a passing glance. His back is to you, and you ache to reach out and see how he’s doing, ease the bubble of stress you feel in your gut, but you can’t.

Iseul bumps you gently with her hip and nods her head back towards your stations. Dahan and Eunji are back, thankfully, having gotten over Covid fairly quickly and started testing negative, and the four of you huddle up to do your own planning session.

“This doesn’t change much for us except how fast we work,” Iseul says, “we can make some strategic cuts around the unit stages too, no added eye enhancements, keep the focus on skin, lips, and brows.”

“Done,” Dahan nods and then settles back into the chair at her station, “I don’t think there’s much more we can do,”

Iseul nods, “It’s not a makeup heavy set,”

Eunji collapses into her own chair and pops open an energy drink, “That just means their foundation has to look better,”

“They look good,” You assure her, “and lord knows we use enough setting spray,”

Eunji laughs and takes a swig of her drink, her carefully manicured nails clicking against the aluminum can as drops it back down on the table, “Hmm,” her leg bounces nervously, “we should check them again,”

“They’re fine,” Iseul says, “plus, wardrobe has them.”

You look back up, and sure enough the wardrobe team is fluttering around them as they talk, taking every opportunity to re-steam a jacket or fix a pant hemline.

You lean back against the long table of snacks and water bottles along the one white wall and watch the chaos, your fingers drumming restlessly along the lip of the table.

“Hey!” One of the wardrobe staff leaps forwards and you look up, “Don’t sit on the couch, I’ll just have to press those pants again!”

Wooyoung leaps up from the couch and groans, “Sorry, sorry,”

“Let me check you,” She inspects his pants with a sharp gaze, “these crease too easily,”

Wooyoung cracks a joke you don’t hear, but everyone within earshot is laughing and you smile at the scene. You’ve all worked together for so long it really does feel a bit like family.

Staff starts to gather back up, and Sunhee makes another clear announcement, “Still running on a thirty,”

Everyone echoes back their understanding.

Now there’s nothing to do but wait. Chewing the inside of your lip you fish your phone out of your brush belt pocket and idly scroll, flicking through photo after photo on Instagram and barely absorbing any of it.

A body shifts in your periphery and you look up to see Yunho, leaning on the table next to you but leaving an appropriate amount of space between your bodies. His head is angled away from you, talking animatedly to San about something, and though you know he’s ignoring you on purpose you also know he sat here for a reason.

Your chest warms, and so does his.

Feeling him this close feels like you’re standing in a rising tide, the sensation of him filling the space around you so wholly and completely, and you know if you were to just surrender to it would carry you right out to sea.

San’s eyes flick to yours, “What about you?”

You blink, “Hmm?” You might have been looking in their direction but not a single word made it into your brain.

San’s eyebrow quirks up in amusement, “That dance challenge with Bada, have you seen it?”

“Oh,” You nod, realizing what trend they’re talking about on Tiktok, “yeah, for sure, it’s everywhere right now,”

“I’m trying to get Yunho to do it with me,” He explains, “it’s cool right? I think we’d kill it,”

Yunho swivels his head to look in your direction and your stomach flips and you fight to keep your face somewhat professional and neutral when you nod, “It’s definitely cool, a lot of idols are doing it, you should,”

“Well,” He smiles, his expression warm, “I guess I’ll have to,”

San snorts softly, and you wonder briefly if he involved you in the conversation because he knew Yunho would cave if you said something.

The moment is short though, when Wooyoung cuts between San and Yunho, “Budge over I need a water,”

Yunho slides to the side just a few inches, but it’s enough to feel the heat of his body from shoulder to thigh as he gets closer to you and your breath quickens. Even after a few weeks, his proximity still makes you feel a dizzy kind of elation and you swallow tightly to keep your own reactions under wraps.

“You good?” Yunho’s focused on Wooyoung’s serious expression though.

“My calf keeps cramping,” He complains, uncapping a water bottle and locating a packet of electrolytes to pour into it.

“You need to stretch,” San says, “drink that and come here,”

Wooyoung grumbles something and Yunho chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah,” San rolls his eyes, “don’t complain when you know I’m right,”

“Fine,” Wooyoung downs the water bottle, drinking half of it in three thirsty gulps and then spins on his heel to follow San to the far wall that’s empty.

For a moment, Yunho doesn’t move.

You stay frozen in place, unsure of exactly what to do, if you should move or if you should let him move, but he makes the decision for you.

The back of his knuckles brush along yours for just a moment, and then he’s up again and walking towards his members. Your heart flutters, and you’re sure he can feel it with the way he looks at you, just one quick glance back before he starts stretching again with Wooyoung and San.

You’ll have to add that one to your notes then, he brushed your hand in Paris.

Blissfully, they announce again that the delay is only going to be thirty minutes. No cuts to the show, no panic. In ten minutes everything will start and you’ll be one step closer to home.

In the wings at the new call time, you prep them again with a final pat of powder, smoothing out any whisper of a pore. When they move past you, Yunho’s hand brushes yours again, and you wonder if he knows he’s doing it. It feels unconscious the way he gravitates towards you, and though he keeps the contact decidedly subtle, you can feel the way his nervousness eases with just a touch of your skin on his.

You watch him as he jogs out to the stage risers, you can’t quite tear your eyes away. He’s so handsome, so commanding of the stage, so unlike the soft, gentle man you’ve come to know off screen. You’re starting to really love them both, or perhaps you already do, and quietly you send him as much warmth and confidence through the link as you can.

His eyes flick over to the wings, a flash of a smile on his lips, but then he refocuses and adjusts his in-ears, and the risers lift into the roar of the crowd once again.

Your eyes track him as he goes up, and sensation bursts through the link from his side, only this time it doesn’t take you down to your knees. You’ve gotten used to it the past few shows, and now it just rings in your body like background noise.

A hand closes around your forearm and pulls, yanking you out of your dazed thoughts, and you whirl to catch Iseul’s serious expression.

“Come with me,” She murmurs lowly, “right now.”

Your stomach twists but you keep the panic to a minimum, you can’t do this to him again. Following her to the backstage door, she grabs her coat and tugs it on and throws you yours. She tugs you outside before you can even properly get your arms through the sleeves and you yank your arm back, “What’s going on?”

“You’re asking me?” She says quietly even though the stage door is shut tight and there’s no one in sight, “Are you kidding?”

She shoves a hand into her pocket and fishes out a pack of cigarettes, ones that she usually only smokes after a few drinks, “I started to think in Amsterdam that it was one of them,”

Your stomach sinks like a stone.

She sparks the lighter and leans in to light the smoke, “You were watching them differently,”

“Iseul,”

“But, I guess it’s Yunho, isn’t it?” She takes a drag and levels you with a serious expression.

“Please,” You don’t even know what you’re begging for, she’s your best friend, but the fear of the unknown still crushes your chest, “don’t,”

“He watches you too,” She says, “I wasn’t sure at first, he’s always been friendly with us, but this is different,”

“I don’t know what to say,” You manage.

“How about you don’t lie to your best friend,” She takes another drag, “that would be a good start,”

“It’s not what you think,” You step closer.

“I don’t think you know what I think,”

“Iseul,” You wrap your arms around yourself.

“Fine,” She tips the ash off the end of the cigarette and pushes her pin straight hair back over her shoulder, “I’ll tell you what I think,”

You stay silent, stomach tight.

“You’ve been weird,” She says, “I’ve never seen you act like this over a guy, and I really doubt you just noticed him for the first time, so either you’re an excellent liar or you’re in love with him,”

You blanch.

“And if you’re in love with him,” She points out, “so suddenly after years, then there’s more to it. So I started paying attention,”

She takes a long drag of her cigarette and sighs out the smoke.

“You’ve been sneaking off,” She points out, “checking your phone constantly,”

Your eyes flick down to the pavement.

“But the weirdest part,” She says, “is that you’ve been changing in the bathroom and we’ve been friends for years. I’ve seen your tits like a hundred times,”

Your head snaps up.

“You’ve been too happy lately for it to be something bad,” She says, her voice softening a bit, “so it’s something good, something like your mark changing.”

”Iseul,” Your voice comes out weakly.

“Fuck,” She looks over your expression, “he’s your soulmate,”

“We didn’t know,” You stumble through the words, “I swear, we didn’t,”

“I believe you,” She nods, “I just want to know why you couldn’t tell me. I’m your best friend, I would have helped you, I wouldn’t… I would never tell anyone,”

“I know,” You reach for her, “I know you wouldn’t do that.”

“Then why?” She pulls her wrist from your touch and ashes her cigarette again, “Because it really hurts that you couldn’t trust me with this.”

“It’s not that,” You press, and it pours out of you, “we don’t even know what we’re doing. It’s really overwhelming, everything I’m feeling and he’s feeling, and then there’s the contracts and the job and the fucking public, and I just… I don’t know what to do, we don’t know what to do. We decided to wait until we got back to Korea to figure it out properly,”

She nods.

“I was going to tell you as soon as I got the nerve up,” You promise, “I haven’t even called Hana,”

Her eyes widen at the confession that you haven’t told your sister after weeks, “Babe,”

“If you know,” You manage, “and she knows, then it’s happening, and I,”

Iseul flicks her cigarette to the curb and throws her arms around you, tugging you close for a hug, “Oh, you nervous idiot,”

“I promise,” You hug her back, “I was going to tell you,”

“Don’t you want it to be real?” She murmurs the question, “It’s your soulmate,”

“I do,” You nod, “I want him, it’s just,”

She rubs your back as you sigh.

”It could be easier,” You finally admit, “if he wasn’t who he is, then it would be simple.”

She nods and pulls back from the hug, giving you a final squeeze, “Simple’s for fairytales,”

“I guess,”

“We’ll work it out,” She nods, “I’ll help.”

“I should have told you weeks ago,” You confess.

“Probably,” She nods, “I would have helped cover for you at least,”

You smile, “Yeah?”

“Totally,” She nods.

You sigh into the cold air, your breath making a cloud of vapor.

She pushes her hands into her coat pockets and then stops, “Who else knows?”

“San, he saw it when we touched,” You tell her and her eyes widen, “and Seonghwa… he found us in bed that morning in Berlin,”

“I’ll be mad about them knowing before me later,” Her nose crinkles, “but that’s good, let’s keep the circle small for now.”

“Definitely,” You nod, “we want to tell people, but just not… it’s better at home,”

She chews the inside of her lip, sighing and pulling out another cigarette, “You haven’t slept together?”

“Not yet,”

As she lights the second cigarette her eyebrow quirks up, “So you’re just tormenting yourselves for fun, or?”

Iseul was, without a doubt, the biggest believer in soulmates you’ve ever met. Everyone in her family was lucky enough to have found their match young, from her parents to her siblings, but she’s been waiting. Out of anyone without a soulmate though, she knew exactly how difficult the time between initial touch and fulfillment of the bond was.

“We nearly did,”

“And?” She takes a drag.

“He wanted to do it right,” You explain, your cheeks heating.

She nods, “He seems like that type,”

Your gut tightens and you exhale, “I was also a little terrified,”

“You and relationships,”

“This is different,” You cross your arms.

Iseul smirks at your sudden defensiveness, “I know it is,” she says, “but it’s still freaking you out, obviously,”

“It was,” You admit, “maybe it is, but not in the way you’re thinking.” The logistics have you stressed beyond belief, but him? Those fears have been fading fast since that first night.

“So, you do love him,” She smiles, flicking away her half smoked cigarette.

All you can do is nod.

Iseul softens at that, after so many years of friendship and watching each other try relationships on for size. Every almost match that withered into nothing, every missed connection, every late night wondering.

“I’m happy for you both,” She says earnestly, reaching for the door and clearing her throat to shove away the emotion there, “but I swear if you lie to me again,”

You laugh, “Got it.”

She punches in the key code to the door and twists the handle when it goes green, but then she stops short, “Listen, we’ll talk about the rest later, but you’ve got to tone it down with him in there. No more longing looks, no more little touches, if I saw you someone else will too.”

Your stomach twists, “Fuck,”

“It’s fine,” She says, “I was looking for it, but eventually someone’s going to notice.”

“Okay, you’re right” You nod.

“Let’s get back in there,” She pulls the door back open and you stumble inside.

Everyone is gathering up again for the first costume change, and you do your best to shake off the conversation. Iseul squeezes your shoulder once, and then slips back to her station like nothing ever happened.

You don’t look at him again the rest of the show.

Iseul’s warning lives in your mind and you try to keep some distance. You give him the same polite congratulations on the tour that you give to every member, ignoring the little crease between his brows when he realizes you’re being funny.

At the team dinner, you keep to the far side of the table and keep the soju to a minimum.

You ignore the buzzing phone in your pocket and his quick glances.

Iseul keeps you busy, keeps you steady.

You don’t let yourself look at the text messages on your phone until you’re back in your hotel room and able to finally relax. A string of texts from him make your heart twist.

everything alright?

you seem tense, did something happen during the show?

alright now i know you’re avoiding me….. jagi, what did i do? tell me so i can fix whatever it is

you look so beautiful tonight, i wish i was across the table from you. i wish we didn’t have to hide this. i wish you’d tell me what’s wrong so i can make it better.

let me know you get to your room safely.

“You good?” Iseul asks as she flops back on her bed, “You look freaked,”

“Yunho,” You pass her the phone so she can see for herself.

She skims the messages quietly, one eyebrow raising, “Girl,” she looks up at you, “I said be subtle, not emotionally terrify your new boyfriend,”

Your cheeks heat, “He’s not my boyfriend,”

“Yeah he is,” Iseul rolls her eyes and tosses your phone back, “and the sooner you accept that this is good for you, the sooner you can get a handle on this with him and actually make a plan,”

Chewing the inside of your lip you sink down onto the edge of your own bed, “I keep fucking this up,”

She shakes her head, “You’re fine, but you’re also wound so tight some strings are bound to break. Call him,”

“He’s probably so pissed at me,” You breathe.

“He’s probably worried,” She counters, “but babe, he’s not any of your shitty exes. At some point you have to stop being scared that every guy is going to break your heart, especially this one.”

“Ouch,” You grimace at her words.

“Am I wrong?”

You sigh heavily and run a hand through your hair, of course she wasn’t wrong. Iseul had watched you couple up time and time again only for it to be another failed attempt at not being alone. That combined with your only significant relationship being littered with gaslighting, cheating, and a truly terrible sex life meant she wouldn’t let you settle, or let a good thing pass you by just because of your anxiety and less than stellar history with the opposite sex.

“Call him,” She interrupts your thoughts again.

You swallow tightly, but at her unwavering gaze you finally look down and press the call button next to his contact picture, pressing the phone to your ear, your fingers drumming nervously on your knee.

Yunho picks up on the second ring, “Baby?”

He doesn’t sound mad at all, all you hear is relief in his voice and your shoulders drop, “Hey,”

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” You hear the rustle of sheets on his side as he sits up.

“Nothing,” You let out the air trapped in your chest, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry,”

He’s quiet for a second, but then he speaks up, “I can feel your stress, y/n,”

You wonder how heavily it’s pouring out of you for him to feel it so clearly through the link.

He takes a slow breath and then continues, “If it’s something I did, I’d like to know so we can talk about it. If it’s something else, I’m here,”

There’s a brush of warmth against your mark, and all your tension starts to melt, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Yunho, I promise.”

“Okay,” He murmurs, letting you know he’s listening, waiting for more.

You look up and meet Iseul’s gaze. She nods at you, waving her hand towards you in a ‘get on with it’ motion, silently pushing you through this.

“Iseul knows about us,” You tell him in a nervous exhale, “she noticed we were being familiar, that there was something going on,”

Sheets rustle again and Yunho clears his throat, “Oh,” he says, “I mean, you’re friends aren’t you? Is she upset?”

You open your mouth to say more, but Iseul groans and pushes herself off the bed, snatching the phone from your ear and taking over the call. You jump up to grab it back, but she holds you back with one arm outstretched and a growing smile on her face.

“Yunho?” She says, “It’s Iseul,”

You hear a short response from Yunho, but you can’t make out the individual words he says.

“Of course I’m not upset,” Iseul says, “I’m honestly really, really happy for you both, even if I had to figure it out myself,”

You watch as Iseul listens to his reply and she laughs sharply.

“Yeah, you two giving each other puppy eyes for the last few weeks was not subtle, no,”

Another beat, and you nudge her side, whispering, “Iseul,”

“No, no,” She shakes her head and steps away from you to keep talking to him, “I told y/n this, but I was looking for it. She was acting weird so I knew something was up, but I just wanted you both to be careful in front of everyone,”

Yunho says something you can’t hear and Iseul nods to herself.

”She’s okay,” Iseul looks back to you, a soft expression in her eyes now, “you’ll learn this, but she’s a little skittish.”

“Iseul!”

She rolls her eyes at you, but listens to him and nods again, “Listen,” she finally says, “I’m going to give the phone back to your girl, but before I do I just want to remind you that she’s my best friend. I think you’re a good guy, Yunho, but if you so much as make her cry, I’ll kill you. Clear?”

His reply is short and she laughs.

“Good,” Iseul grins, “she deserves someone good, and I know you can be that person for her.”

You reach out your hand for the phone again, needing to talk to him and pull your best friend back from whatever emotional speech she might let loose next.

“I’m glad,” Iseul says, “now let me put y/n back on, I think she’s about to have an aneurism.”

You can hear Yunho’s laugh as she passes back the phone and you take it eagerly, “Hi, god, I’m so sorry about that,”

Iseul laughs and walks towards the bathroom to wind down and do her skincare and give you a brief moment of privacy, and you spin and walk towards the far end of the room near the window.

“It’s fine,” Yunho sounds warm and not at all upset, “I’m glad you have a friend like her,”

“Still,” You curl up into the armchair, “I didn’t mean to act so weird today or to corner you like this after such a long show,”

“Don’t apologize,” He soothes you, “I know this is a lot, and Iseul’s right, we need to be careful if we want to do this the right way,”

“Yeah,” You sigh, “still, I could have texted you and told you. I just got nervous,”

“I know,” He murmurs, “but in the future, you don’t have to be alone in that. I’m your guy.”

A smile tugs at your lips, “You are?”

“Mhm,” He says softly, “you don’t have to handle anything alone anymore, jagi.”

Tightness sinks into your throat and you nod, pushing back the telltale sign of tears, “I’d like that,”

“Good,” He murmurs, “now are you up for doing me a favor?”

“A favor?” Your brow furrows, “What’s wrong?”

“Not wrong,” He sounds so relaxed, so comfortable, and it puts you at ease, “but get your coat and map yourself to the location I’m sending you,”

“What?” You laugh, feeling your phone buzz as his text comes through.

“We’ll keep our distance,” He assures you, “but sweetheart, it’s snowing, and I am not missing the first snow with my soulmate in Paris,” he emphasizes, “so bundle up and get out here.”

You pull the curtain to the side, and sure enough there’s snow swirling in the air, falling in soft fluffy flakes.

“Oh, wow,” You breathe, taking in how a white blanket has already started to thicken up on the streets outside.

“Call me back when you get there,” He says, “okay?”

“Yeah,” You smile, soft warmth spreading through your body, “I’m on my way,”

You’re a whirlwind as you tug your coat back on, lacing up your boots and searching your bag for a pair of gloves. Iseul gives you one look when she sees you getting ready, but she smiles, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,”

“I won’t be long, I’m sure,”

She shrugs, “Be safe,”

“I will,”

She searches for something on the side table and tosses it to you, a small black piece of fabric, “Mask, don’t forget,”

“Got it,” You nod, affixing the mask to your face. The likelihood of you being photographed in Paris during a snowstorm when you weren’t even going to be next to Yunho was close to zero, but the risk wouldn’t be worth it.

“Go get your man,” She arches her brow suggestively and you groan, rolling your eyes and darting out of the hotel room before she can embarrass you anymore.

As quickly as you can, you map yourself to the pinned spot he sent and start walking. It’s hard to tell from the map, but as you get closer to the spot a few streets up from your hotel on the far side of the Seine you realize this is all it is, a street corner by the edge of the bridge.

There’s barely anyone around, especially with the weather, and you can’t see Yunho anywhere.

Tucking your coat closed around you, you find your phone and follow Yunho’s instructions.

He picks up your call immediately, “You there?” he asks, his voice sounding a little muffled.

“Yeah,” You breathe, looking around to see if you can spot him now, “Are you coming?”

“I’m already here,” He says, “look up, across the river under the light by the steps,”

You step close to the stone railing at the edge of the river, and sure enough under the street lamp directly opposite your corner, Yunho stands unmistakably tall under the light. You can’t make out the details of him from this far away, the river is wide enough that he could be just about anyone at this distance, but then the figure waves.

You can hear the smile in Yunho’s voice when he says, “Hi, baby,”

“Hey,” You relax into the railing, your stomach flipping pleasantly. You’re still not used to the way he’s tender with you, his pet names and how easily he sunk into being soulmates, but you trust him. It doesn’t matter how fast or how hard you’re falling, despite those fluttering nerves, you know he’s going to catch you, you feel it.

He hums pleasantly through the phone and you imagine him smiling, “Take a walk with me?” he asks brightly.

“Love to,” You murmur.

“I have a surprise for you,” He says, “it’s just around the bend of the river,”

“How did you have time to do anything? We just got to Paris last night,” The figure across the river starts to walk and so you follow, slowly making your way up the length of the river by the stone railing.

“Don’t get too excited,” He laughs softly, “I didn’t do anything,”

“Mhm,” The air is crisp and sharp, and you take in a deep breath, “I love snow,”

“Me too,”

“People always say I’m crazy, but I prefer winter over summer,”

“I do too,” He says, and you can almost picture him smiling, “I hate the heat,”

There’s a natural lull, a gentle pause in conversation, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. You feel his presence with you as if he were walking right at your side, and it keeps you warmer than any scarf or padded coat.

Finally, Yunho breaks the companionable silence, “I always try to take a long walk in a new city,”

“Late night, like this?” You ask.

“It’s usually the only time I have,” He sighs, “I’m getting used to exploring places by street lamp,”

“I’d like to actually explore here during the day,” You say, “I’ve always wanted to come here,”

“Where else have you always wanted to go?”

You step around a couple nestled close together near the wall and continue on, boots crunching on the layer of snow ahead of you, “Everywhere,” you admit, “but I don’t know, there’s more of America to see, and I’ve never been to Australia. Vietnam maybe, or, oh, Iceland, I’d like to see the northern lights.”

“I’d love to take you there someday,”

“Take another long walk in the snow,” You offer, glancing across the river. It takes you a moment to find him as you both pass through a busier spot, but you see him pass under another street lamp and your heart is back at ease.

“y/n,” Yunho says after a beat, “are you sure you’re alright with Iseul knowing about us?”

You swap your phone to your opposite hand, tucking your frozen fingers into your pocket and nod even though he can’t really see that from this far away, “I am, she’s my best friend, I should have just told her.”

“I don’t think either one of us knows what we’re doing,” He reminds you, “and that’s okay.”

“Mm,” You sigh, a heavy cloud of vapor blooming in the icy air, “I do know one thing,”

“What’s that?”

Your stomach flutters nervously, but you press on, “I haven’t felt this happy or this cared for in a long time,”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then you hear his breath, “I feel the same way,”

“I just want to be on the plane now,” You admit, “at least then we’d be almost home,”

“Well,” He says, “don’t wish for it too soon,”

“What do you,” You start to say but he swiftly cuts back in.

“Look to your left, sweetheart,” He says warmly.

Your head snaps up, and you turn only to have the breath knocked out of you by this city yet again. There, across the river and beyond a large bridge in the distance is the Eiffel Tower, standing golden against the night sky.

“Oh,” You breathe.

“Wait for it,” He murmurs.

“What did you do?” You can’t stop yourself from grinning like a fool, but you expect that’s a common experience for tourists in love in this city.

“I didn’t do anything,” He laughs, “I just got the timing right, just wait,”

You step closer to the wide bridge, ornate with golden statues and arched to offer ferry boats passage underneath. All the while you keep your eyes locked to the tower, and blink away the dust of snow collecting on your eyelashes.

“Yunho,”

“Just,” He starts to say, his voice getting far away as if he moved the phone, “another minute,”

You tuck your scarf up around your face and wait, and then it starts to glitter. Blocks away but still standing tall before you in the distance, the golden monument starts to sparkle with the fast flicker of silvery lights.

“Oh,” You breathe, “I didn’t think I’d see it,”

“Mhm,” He murmurs, “you might have mentioned it in London,”

“Did I?” You can’t tear your eyes away.

“I’m sorry I can’t take you there properly,” He confesses, “or anywhere properly yet, but, someday I will,”

The glittering stops and you finally look away to try and find him again across the bridge, only he’s closer now and walking directly along your side of the bridge towards you. Your feet are moving before you can convince yourself otherwise, a magnetic pull straight to him.

The bridge is thankfully quiet, barely anyone on either side, and you both stop in the middle, both of your phones tucked into your respective pockets.

“Hi,” His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles beneath his mask.

“Hey,” You sigh, “should we be doing this?”

“No one’s here,” He says, stepping closer, “just one minute,”

You nod, “One minute,”

“Listen,” He says, his hand brushing against yours again, “I know you’re scared. I’m scared too,”

Your heartbeat quickens.

“But we are almost home,” He says, “and once we’re there, we will make a plan. We will make this work, and I promise you, I’m more afraid of losing you than of losing all this,” he gestures towards the city around you.

“There’s got to be a way, other people who have done this,” You nod.

“We’ll find out,” He assures you, “just please, don’t pull away from me when things get hard or if you’re afraid. You can rely on me, you can trust me, I swear to you, y/n.”

You can feel the nervous knot in his chest, and you step close, resting a hand where you know his soulmark loops on his chest. When you let yourself feel him, focus on him, it’s clear to you just how anxious about your growing relationship he’s been. Soulmates or not you still have to walk the path together, and of the two of you, you’ve been less clear. His gestures, his gifts, the way he’s tried his best over the past few weeks to show you his true feelings and intentions, but you haven’t given him enough back to soothe that knot in his chest.

“Baby,” The endearment slips out and you feel him soften under your touch, “I’m here, I’m with you. I’m so fucking terrified, but not of you or of this.”

Snow sticks to his lashes, swirls in the air around you, but his exhale of ragged breath isn’t the cold, it’s relief.

“I’m worried I’m going to fuck it up somehow, of what will happen when people find out,” You confess, “and I’m so scared you’ll wake up one day and realize I wasn’t worth the mess,”

“y/n,” He shakes his head, reaching for your cheek.

“I know, I know,” You catch his hand against your face, press a fast kiss to his palm through the fabric of your mask, “it’s just a fear, I just want you to understand where my head has been,”

He nods, a little crease between his brows.

“But I do trust you,” You tell him, “more than anyone, and I’ve been alone a long time, so I’m learning how to let myself rely on you, but I’ve never doubted you. Not before and definitely not now,”

“Come here,” He tucks your bodies together and tugs his mask down, “kiss me,”

You pull yours away, and you press up on your tiptoes to meet his eager mouth.

His nose is cold, and his fingers are icy against your cheek, but his lips are warm and soft and his broad body blocks the gust of wind and snow.

The knot of anxiety in his chest starts to ease, and you brush your fingers over his mark to seal your own promise back to him.

“Sweetheart, I,” He sighs, kissing you once more, letting his words fade on his tongue, “thank you.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t said it like that before,” You say, “but I’m here,”

He nods, a soft smile on his mouth, and he leans over to kiss you once more in the snowy Paris street, the golden glow of the Eiffel tower still in your periphery.

When he pulls back, he rights his mask and you follow his lead, “It’s cold, let’s get back inside,” he says.

You can barely feel it, but you nod, “Okay,”

“Call me again,” He squeezes your hand once and then lets it drop, “I’ll walk you back,”

You smile, finding your phone and dialing him.

Yunho pulls his phone out, and starts to walk back across the bridge, but then he picks up, “Hello?”

“Hey, again,” You walk backwards slowly, watching him as he tucks the phone closer to his ear.

“Hi,” He says warmly, and then he turns to catch sight of you when he says, “I just met the prettiest girl in Paris,”

Butterflies roll through you, “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm,” He murmurs, “I think I’m falling for her,”

Easy warmth spreads through your chest despite the chill, “That’s so funny,” you tell him as you turn to round the corner of the bridge again, “I just met this guy,”

He laughs, and slowly you make your way back to the hotel. The conversation comes more easily now, the lingering threads of any tension dissipating with the wind. You talk about everything and nothing, how to tell the members and what you’re planning to have for coffee in the morning, and by the time you’re at the hotel the snow has slowed to a stop and the streets are empty except for you both, two long-distance lovers across the Seine.

───────────────────────── ✧₊⁺───────────────────────

The final day in Paris passes by in a blur just like the plane home. It’s always like this after a tour, the absolute exhaustion after weeks of adrenaline and travel, but this time all you want is to be home and it feels like you’re doing the epitome of just going through the motions to get there.

Yunho had texted you to sleep well on the flight, and you did, only to be shaken awake hours and hours later by Iseul when you were preparing to land. You had only woken up for one of the flight meals and a quick bathroom break, but now as you descend into Incheon you’re itching to get out of the seat more than you normally would be.

Home.

You can see it out the window, but you can feel it too.

Up until this moment, everything with you and Yunho had been on a delay, the reality of what you were to each other only something to fully reckon with after the tour, and now here you were.

Your fingers start to nervously drum against your knee as you prepare for landing, your heart picking up as you touch down, your leg bouncing in anticipation while the plane takes its time taxing to the gate.

Iseul gives your hand a squeeze when you finally make it off the plane and into the interior of the airport, only this time it’s not to calm your nerves, it's to remind you that you have a role to play. Today the crowd is thick, rows and rows of screaming, clawing girls and you feel your heart rate pick up immediately. They’re not here for you, they could honestly care less about you, but you still have to make your way through them as quickly and painlessly as possible.

The support staff is always split, half in front of the boys and half behind, an extra layer of bodies between them and the hands that so badly want to touch them. Girls that want their one moment, a quick press of skin on skin, seeking a confirmation of the bond they’re so convinced exists between them and their bias. It’s never bothered you before, just a hazard of being famous, but now you can’t help but feel like they know. One look at you and they can see right through all the careful lies, they can see your tattoo and his, a string knotted from your ribs to his, and you think they might kill you for it. It wouldn’t be the first time a deranged fan took things too far, and your stomach churns with every step as you leave the relative safety of the main gate.

Getting from the plane to the cars is a well oiled production. You’re used to sticking close to your team and a set of the support staff, head down, hat low, moving swiftly. There’s not much you can do about it unless you happen to be on a different flight, which has happened a time or two while you’ve been working with Ateez but it’s rare.

For weeks since you first felt the link between you and Yunho, you’ve been able to feel some echo of his emotions through the connection, but as you file off the plane and group up to start working through the crowd, the sensation of him goes quiet. You’ve seen the members as they walk, a crafted persona of friendliness over the full disassociation, but you never expected to feel some shadow of that yourself. Your nerves are swirling, but you take a few slow and steadying breaths, and alongside Iseul and the rest of your coworkers, you start walking.

It should be quick, it should be painless, but it isn’t.

Halfway to the doors, a body breaks through the guards to your side, making a desperate beeline for one of the boys behind you, the girl’s face streaked with tears and hands outstretched, her shoulder checking yours hard as she pushes her way through into the interior circle.

You stumble hard, footing unsure on the slick linoleum, your heart pounding suddenly in your chest.

You make a tight noise of surprise, hand outstretched to brace your fall as you collapse hard onto your left knee. Bodies bump into you on all sides, stumbling to not knock you over and trample you, but you still struggle to get your feet under you.

It’s loud in here, the sudden sound of fans and bodyguards, but you feel a spike of alarm shoot through your gut as he comes back online and reacts to your fall. You can’t turn around, but you feel him, and then all at once there’s hands hooking under your arms and you’re stumbling back up to your feet.

Yunho’s several paces back behind you, layers of bodies away, but despite that he lurches forwards, forgetting himself in the fray. There’s no cameras, no crowd, no thought of familiarity in his mind, only the singular truth that his soulmark is hurt and the need to get to you is all encompassing. A hard hand locks down on his bicep, another on his opposite shoulder. He has half a mind to throw whoever has him off, and then reality clicks back into place.

He watches as Iseul and one of the other managers hauls you back up to your feet while the bodyguards close ranks and remove the cloying girl.

San, his hand still locked around Yunho’s arm, leans in tight to his ear, “She’s fine, don’t.”

“You don’t,” Yunho starts to say but Seonghwa claps him on the shoulder again, squeezing him and trying to silently remind him the stakes here.

“Look,” San urges him as they keep moving, “she’s up, use your head.”

He focuses, and he watches the way you walk. Iseul is still pinned to your side but you’re not injured, just keeping your head down. He takes a tight breath and focuses on the feeling of the link, searching for your emotions under the bubbling rush of his own.

Seonghwa’s hand falls away as the group makes it closer to the door, but San stays steady bracing Yunho’s bicep.

Yunho blinks and focuses, and then he feels you. Your own heart is beating fast, a blanket of anxiety mixed with discomfort and blushing embarrassment. There’s no fear though, no pain, and he shudders a sigh in relief.

This kind of connection with another person is so singular and so maddening. He’s always cared for you, he would have wanted to help even if you weren’t his soulmate, but knowing that you are and feeling it all has him ready to tear the world apart for your smallest needs. He can understand now with perfect clarity why companies are so protective of skin on skin contact with their artists, why there’s no room for exceptions until positions are far more established. A young man with a soulmarked bond would ruin every scrap of his own career if it meant he could touch her, hold her, have her for just a moment.

“Breathe,” San bids him, “you’re staring,”

Yunho rips his eyes away from your back and looks to San, “It’s too much,”

San gives him a wide, idol smile and shakes his head, “Cameras, Yunho,”

He blinks and refocuses, finding his own photogenic smile and nodding towards the crowd. He waves, he nods, he does all the things a good little idol would do.

Warmth brushes over his chest, the feeling of your fingers along the loops of your tattoo and the tight fist around his heart loosens, breath finally filling his lungs the right way. Silently, you’ve told him you’re safe, you’re well. He can breathe.

You’re in separate cars though, and as you climb into the SUV with the rest of the makeup and hair staff, your hands start to shake.

“You okay?” Iseul finally asks as the doors close.

“Mm,” You sigh, leaning back into the soft seat, “I hate those crowds,”

She nods, “Security should have never let that girl get through,”

“She just pushed me aside,” You rub your tired eyes, “I can’t even believe someone would be that unhinged,”

“Mhm,” Iseul rolls her eyes, “well, when it’s her one chance to see if her precious Yunho-ya is her star crossed soulmate,”

A flicker of jealous anger sparks in your gut, “Is that who she was after?”

“Yeah,” A look of disgust passes over her face, “as if fate would actually match up an idol and a saesang, get real.”

You laugh, and someone else makes a comment about how cruel it would be if that actually happened, but you and Iseul are sharing a private look. Of course none of those girls are his soulmark, not when you’re sitting right here.

You shiver, you can’t stop thinking about the girl’s tear streaked face as she shoved you to the side. What would a fan like that think about you being her bias’s soulmate? You don’t even want to know.

The car pulls away, and you feel your phone start to buzz in your pocket. You fish it out and keep it close so no one next to you can see the screen.

Your body melts at the message.

Are you hurt, jagiya?

You tap out a quick reply, needing to not keep him waiting - I’m alright, it just startled me.

Bubbles pop up immediately as he types - I’ll have a talk with security, there’s no reason for staff to be that close to the fans like that. Too risky.

You’re in love with him already, it’s impossible not to be when he talks like this. You smile and write back - Don’t, we shouldn’t draw any attention. But it means a lot that you were worried about me.

Of course I worry - His first message flies in, and then another - I felt you fall, I nearly ran to get to you.

I’m glad you didn’t. We really can’t give anyone a reason to question things.

I know. But I wanted to, I never want anything to keep me from you when you need me.

Jeong Yunho…. - You write back, butterflies in your belly at his words - Are you trying to make me like you?

I thought we covered this, you don’t already like me? - You feel his warmth through the bond and you know he’s teasing.

You know I do. - If you said more you’d probably reveal how far in this you already are after a few weeks of a bond.

It takes a moment for him to respond, but when he does your cheeks heat - I’ll have to work harder then, to make sure you feel as strongly as I do.

Your mark warms, a punctuated touch of his heart to yours.

Before you can reply he sends another message - You promise you’re not hurt at all?

Embarrassed mostly, and my knee hurts a little, but I promise it’s nothing serious, I wouldn’t lie to you. - You reply, touching your mark gently with your fingers to send back the same warmth, the same truth of your words.

When can I see you? I don’t think I can go days until our next schedule.

Tonight? You can’t help yourself.

Where?

Your stomach flutters at the thought of being alone with him again - My place? I live alone in Seongsu. It’s nothing special, but it’s private and it’s home.

Text me the address, I’ll find a way over.

You tap out your address and send it through - Please don’t get in trouble trying to come by.

I won’t - He replies instantly.

Iseul’s hand gently touches your knee and you look back up at her, “What’s up?”

“You want a ride home from the office?” She asks, eyes flicking down at your phone briefly.

“You don’t mind?” You ask.

She shakes her head, “You’re on the way,”

You nod, pulling your phone back out to send him a message - Iseul’s driving me home when we get to the office. Are you going to your apartment now?

Yes - He replies - Yeosang keeps yawning, when our managers leave and he goes to bed I’ll come by.

Aren’t you tired too? - You ask him.

I slept on the plane - He replies, and then another message comes through - If you’re tired you can sleep, I just need to be with you right now.

I slept too - You assure him - I’ll be up. Just message me when you’re close.

I will - He says.

You send him one last bit of instruction, a little safer if he can let himself into your place just in case anyone sees him coming by - It’s apartment 26B, Door Code is 10824*

He sends a heart in reply, and you tuck your phone back into your lap.

Soon, you’d finally be alone. After weeks and weeks of waiting, the ache in your chest would finally be soothed.

Even after Iseul drops you off at home, it takes him hours. By the time you get a message that he’s on his way you’ve nervously cleaned your tiny apartment three times over and ordered far too much take out just to be sure he has something to eat if he hasn’t gotten anything already.

When you hear him keying your door code in, your heart starts to beat double time.

He slips in quietly, dressed in a dark gray long coat, black ball cap, and black face mask, and if you didn’t know him just from the cut of his shoulders you could have easily mistaken him for just about anyone in a crowd.

“Hey,” You feel at ease immediately, and he looks up at the sound of your voice.

Your apartment amounts to a double wide hallway, your lofted bed above the entryway and bathroom, a small galley kitchenette along one wall, built-in storage and a desk, and then an extremely modest living space. The sight of him in your apartment is strange, he’s so tall he seems to fill up the space of the entryway, a surreal sight now that you’re home and not in random hotel rooms.

He kicks off his shoes to leave them by the door, and then he steps up into your apartment as he pulls his mask off, crossing the room in three easy strides to get to you.

“Hey,” He replies, his cold hands cupping your cheeks as he gets close, “there you are,”

“Here I am,” You smile, stepping closer to him and relaxing into his touch.

“I,” He shakes his head and his words falter a little, “I know you said you’re fine, I just… it’s nice to see for myself, I couldn’t shake that feeling,”

You soften at that, “Oh, Yunho, I’m okay,”

“I know,” He sighs, “I’m sorry it took me so long,”

“It’s alright,” You slide your hands into his jacket and rest your hands on his chest, “you’re here now,”

He folds you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you properly and cupping the back of your head with his broad hand, “I’m so glad to be home,”

Your heart flutters, “The tour felt like years,” you murmur, nuzzling into his chest.

“Mm,” He sighs, his body melting around you, “our managers wanted to talk about the upcoming week, and Hongjoong had schedule changes, and then Yeosang wouldn’t go to bed, he kept sitting in the living room, I thought I was going to scream,”

”It’s fine,” You smile against his sweater, “do you have a schedule tomorrow, then?”

“No,” He unfolds himself from around you, pulling his cap free and running a hand through his messy locks, “I’m off, I don’t have anywhere to be.”

Warmth fills you, “For how many days?”

“Three,” He grins.

“Me too,”

“Any plans?” He drops his hat and mask down onto your side table where your own keys and gloves are and steps close again.

”None,” You murmur, “sleeping,”

“Want some company?” He wraps his hand around yours.

“For three days?” Your eyes widen, “There’s no way you can get away for that long,”

“I worked it out,” He says, “waiting for Yeosang to get tired,”

“Okay,” You don’t want to let yourself be excited too soon.

“I’ll have to go back and pick up a few things,” He tells you, “but I told my manager that my brother might be coming up to town to see me after tour,”

“Okay,”

”And that I might drive down to Gwangju with him,” He smiles wider, “and that he could drop me back off before schedules pick back up.”

“Really?” Your hand tightens on his.

”Really,” He nods, “if you want me here, I’m here.”

For a split second you feel like you could cry, relief washing through you, and you dive forward to wrap your arms around his neck, “Stay, please, stay,”

He bends to accommodate your height difference, and ends up wrapping his arms around your back and lifting you in the air, “Good,” he sighs, “I hoped you’d say that,”

“Yunho, thank you,” You pull back enough to find his face, “god, I missed you,”

“Me too,” He confesses, “seeing you everyday but not really seeing you, I don’t want to do that again,”

“It’s so much harder than I thought it would be,”

He nods and gives you a soft smile, “We made it, though,”

“Yeah,”

He dips in and presses his lips to yours, and the last threads of tension unravel, everything else forgotten with his body so close to yours. Yunho sighs pleasantly, pressing close lipped, familiar kisses to your lips, before setting you back down on your feet and straightening back up to his full height.

Your hearts feel like they’re in sync.

He smiles at you again, and then finally glances around to take in the space around him, “Oh,” he says as he takes it in, “I like your place,”

“It’s small,” You shrug, “but it works for me,”

“That view,” He nods towards your floor to ceiling glass window, truly the only selling point of the apartment, “that’s something.”

You follow his eyes to the glittering city outside and nod, “It really is,”

It’s quiet for a moment as he takes in the view, and then he sighs and looks back to you, “It feels nice to not have to rush away,”

You nod, “I know,”

You’re dancing around each other again, now that there’s no deadline hanging over your heads or threat that someone might walk by. You can simply exist.

“I’ve got takeout,” You offer, making the first move, “if you’re hungry, but if not it’ll keep,”

He smiles, “In a bit,”

“Let me take your coat at least,” You stretch out a hand, “get comfortable,”

He slides it off his shoulders and folds it as he hands it to you, “Thanks,”

You find a home for his coat in the entryway nestled on a hook next to yours, his shoes already placed neatly side by side with your sneakers. It looks so right, your life against his, and you let your fingers skate down over the back of his coat as you take it in, a smile pulling at your lips. He belongs here, in every way, and for the next three days you’d pretend his presence in your apartment was permanent, solid and immutable in the way it feels in your heart.

His coat, his shoes, and in a flash you see it all, flickers of a real life together. Toothbrushes, coffee cups, letters in the mail, his keys kissing yours in a dish by the door, books slotted together on the shelf, clothes tangled up in the laundry basket.

Your chest aches with need, but he just walked into your apartment for the first time, so you shake off those thoughts and turn to him, “What did you have in mind for tonight?”

“Honestly,” He grins, “being able to talk to you face to face is as far as I let myself get,”

“Way better than texting,” You smile back, “you want a drink? Beer? Wine?”

“Sure,” He nods, “Beer?”

You nod and take the two steps into the kitchenette to locate glasses and two cans of beer, calling over your shoulder, “Make yourself comfortable, are you sure you’re not hungry?”

”I’m okay,” You hear him settle onto the couch and it occurs to you that you’ve never had a man in your apartment, at least in the sense of a romantic partner. For years you were going to their places, strangely protective of your own little haven between these four walls, and yet with Yunho you feel comfortable enough already not just to let him inside, but to give him your door code without a thought.

You blink at the realization, almost letting his glass overflow onto the countertop as you pour. How strange the last few weeks have been, how different you already are.

“How long have you lived here?” Yunho asks, and you let the thoughts about what it all means fade into the background as you turn towards him.

“Um,” You do the math in your head, “a few years? Almost four now,”

“It’s a great place,” He says again.

You leave the two empty cans on the counter and cross the room towards him, “Yeah,” you nod, “It’s small, but it’s nice and accessible, and in this area anyways I really can’t beat the rent,”

“Mm,” He nods, “I wish I could say I know what you mean, but idol life is strange.”

“That’s right,” You nod, “you don’t pay for your place?”

You settle onto the small couch next to him as he answers, “It’s part of our contract so it’s provided, but if we were to leave the group before contracts are up we’d owe the money back,”

You grimace, “That’s terrible,”

He nods but it’s with a slight shrug, “Some companies are worse, KQ being small has its benefits in other areas so that’s never been much of a concern for us,”

“That’s good at least,” You nod, “and they treat us pretty well, all things considered.”

“Did you ever work anywhere else?” Yunho takes a sip of beer and makes a noise of satisfaction at the flavor.

You smile and tuck your legs under you, angling towards him on the couch, “After cosmetology school I worked at SM for about a year,”

“And?” He asks.

“Awful,” You groan, “The pay was terrible, and the schedules were worse. It felt like being an intern,”

“And then you came to KQ?”

You sip your beer, nodding as you do, “Iseul and I went to school together, she got me in as soon as a position opened up, really vouched for me considering I had a smaller portfolio than she did at the time,”

“I’m glad she did,” He smiles warmly.

“What about you?” You ask, “Was KQ your first choice?”

He turns towards you on the couch, his knees pressed against yours and he rests one arm on the back of your couch, “Not initially,” he admits, “but I had two other competing offers, and something just didn’t feel right about either. Then I met Hongjoong, and I guess you know, that’s it,”

“A little bit of fate,” You smile.

“Mm,” He nods, “fate, maybe luck, I don’t care what it was, I’m just happy to be with you now,”

Your cheeks heat a little, and you look down at the popping bubbles on the surface of your drink.

”I just wish it happened sooner,” He admits, his hand sliding over the cushions to touch your forearm.

You nod and look back up, “I know what you mean, but, maybe that’s another thing fate got right, maybe we’re finally ready for each other now.”

He laughs, “What was the word Iseul used? Skittish?”

You sigh, “Yeah, she’s not totally wrong. I used to have terrible taste in guys, or maybe I wasn’t comfortable opening up, I don’t know, but,”

Yunho gives your arm a gentle squeeze, “I get it,”

You cock your head, asking him a silent question.

“I’ve dated a bit,” He explains, “and I always thought maybe it was me, but no matter how nice or compatible someone was on paper it was just…”

“Dull?” You offer.

He nods, “Like I was sleepwalking through it,”

Your stomach bubbles with a nervous thrill, your chest constricting with anticipation, “And with me?”

His mouth turns up in a small smile, eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips and back again, “I’m more than awake with you.”

“Me too,” You confess.

It’s quiet for a moment, Yunho’s thumb sweeping a soft line over the veins in your wrist, and then he exhales and drops his glass off on the table.

“Yun?”

He smiles at the abbreviation of his name and takes your glass away too, “As much as I want to talk all night, and I do, I think I might actually die if I’m not touching you after all these weeks,”

He reaches for you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you over to his half of the couch. You squeak in surprise, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest and another on the cushions, but you end up pressed up against him and almost laying across his chest. Your body relaxes into him instantly, and Yunho lets out a relieved sigh. This, this is what you had been waiting weeks and weeks to feel again, the sureness of his body under your fingertips, the way your heart seems to slow and soothe with every touch.

“Anyways,” His voice cracks a little, a soft smile on his face, “you were saying,”

You’re nearly nose to nose, close enough to hear his breath, to feel the thump of his heart under your palm. His eyes flick over your face, his lips part, pupils dilating wider with every passing moment.

You try to remember where you were in the conversation, but with him so close and his hot hands on you, it’s all like a distant memory and you laugh lightly, “I have no idea,”

He grins, his hand brushing your face, the pad of his thumb tracing your cheekbone, and then without a single conscious thought you’re surging forwards to press your lips to his.

Yunho groans, hands tightening on your back, and when he starts to kiss you back it’s like the catch of a match under your skin, a crackle of need through every nerve ending. He kisses you with unmasked urgency, pulling little pants and moans from your lips every time you break for a breath.

His hands slide down, cupping your backside, and you hitch a leg over his as you push yourself higher on the couch, desperately seeking more of his hot mouth.

“Baby,” He breathes between kisses, his tongue flicking against yours as your mouth opens to him.

Your body rolls on instinct, pressing your clothed core against his thigh.

He groans again, pulling your body tighter against him and shifting the position of his leg so that his foot is flat on the floor, providing a hard, stable straddle for you.

You wish so badly in this moment you weren’t wearing jeans, uncomfortably stiff denim that doesn’t let you properly feel the heat of him, but that doesn’t stop you from rocking your body once, twice, and again as you pant against his mouth.

His fingertips slip under the waistband of your jeans, resting on your lower back while his free hand wanders around to your front, sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb ghosting over your pebbled nipple.

You feel dizzy, and you press back from his mouth to take a sharp inhale, “Ah, Yunho,”

He shudders, cupping your neck and pulling you back to his mouth. Mumbled against your lips he offers, “We can talk more,”

You shake your head, “You really want to talk, right now?” You smile, pushing yourself further onto his lap, nearly straddling him now as you dive back in for another heated kiss.

He groans, his hands flexing as they find anchor points on your hips, and he tugs you right into place with your pelvis slotted right over his. One of his hands skims up the back of your shirt, hot skin on skin, and you moan pleasantly into his mouth.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He pants between wet kisses, “you’re killing me here,”

“Yeah?” Your stomach flutters with butterflies.

He hums a yes, tongue dipping into your mouth to catch on yours.

You can’t stop the little whine that leaves your lips, “Oh,” you roll your hips, “Yunho,”

His hips twitch under you, and you can feel the start of his erection as it hardens under your ass.

“Please,” You kiss him again, pushing your hips down and clinging onto his shoulders.

His hand snakes up higher under your shirt, and his fingers deftly close over the clasp of your bra. In a second he slides the fabric in just the right way to open the clasp, and you feel the support release as his hand slides up and down the bare expanse of your back.

“Fuck,” He shudders, “I’m sorry, I should have asked,”

“Shut up,” You dive back in, your fingers tugging at his sweater, “take this off,”

He kisses you hard once more and then pulls back, and you lean away still perched on his lap while he awkwardly tugs off the sweater, tossing it to the other side of your couch.

“Can I,” His hands slide under your shirt, circling your bare waist, his eyes tracking the way your shirt slides up, “Jesus, you’re gorgeous,”

“Off,” You raise your arms and he slides his hands up, pushing the shirt up and over your head until he’s discarding it on the floor.

When you look back down it nearly knocks the breath out of you. He’s staring at you like you’re a marvel, like you’re the eighth wonder of the world, and it draws your frantic pace to a blinding halt. He smiles softly, and his eyes skate down your body. Your bare neck, black bra straps loosely held on either shoulder, tattoos stretching down over your upper arms, over your elbows, stopping at mid forearm. The sheer mesh of your bra loosely cupping your breasts, nipples standing hard at attention through the fabric and the center of the underwire covering the top half of your red, looping soulmark.

He reaches for you slowly this time, one hand sliding to the back of your neck while the other skims up and down your arm, “Can I?” He asks again, his fingers ghosting over the strap of your bra.

You nod, breathless.

He hooks his fingers under one side and pulls, letting the strap drop and the mesh cup falls slack. His adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and slowly he loosens the other strap, your bra falling away and landing in your laps.

Your heart is hammering in your chest now, and your fingers tighten on the fabric of his crisp white t-shirt.

“So beautiful, baby,” He sighs, looking back up to your eyes, “you’re so perfect,”

You can’t find any words, the way he looks at you and touches you has you rooted to the spot.

“Can I kiss you again?” He slides his hands over your skin, still stroking your back and sides.

That snaps you back into reality, and you dip forwards to crash your mouth to his.

His arms wrap around you as yours knot into his hair, both of you a panting mess as you cling to each other on your sofa. Your bodies move in sync, his hands pressing just right as you roll your hips, only this time you can feel the hot press of his cock on your cunt through layers of fabric and you both moan at the contact.

“Yunho,” You exhale sharply, rocking again to try and catch more sensation.

“Jesus,” He pants, his hands locking down harder.

You shudder at the contact, and you’re about two seconds away from begging him to take you right here on the couch when he puts the brakes back on.

His hand slides up to catch your cheek, pushing your hair back and drawing your face away from his so he can look up at you, “y/n,” he says, voice a little hoarse, “that time on the phone,”

You nearly moan at the memory of your silent orgasm, his voice in your ear, but you manage to nod.

“DId you,” He starts and then backtracks, “I mean, you didn’t mind, or I guess what I’m asking is you weren’t, you know, uncomfortable,”

His cheeks are turning pink as he talks, and you have half a mind to let him muddle through the thought, but you want his mouth on yours again and you cut him off, “You mean the best orgasm I’ve had in years?”

He blushes properly then, his ears a frighteningly dark shade of pink and he clears his throat, “So you liked it?”

Warmth blooms in your chest and you smile, leaning closer to him, your fingers tangling into his hair again, “Yunho,” you murmur, “are you asking if you can boss me around a little?”

You’re nose to nose again, and his eyes search yours, “A little,” he concedes.

“Boss away,” You grin, pressing your lips back to his, but he shakes his head.

“Slow down,” He catches your hands in his and closes them together, pulling you back from him.

Your brow knits together, “I’m getting mixed messages,” you glance down at your bare chest.

His eyes flick to your breasts and back up and he huffs a soft laugh, “Sorry,” he manages, “I just meant we should talk,”

“So much talk with you,” You tease him lightly, “I think I liked the kissing,”

“Think?” His eyebrow quirks but then he shakes his head, “You’re a flirt, you do a hell of a job distracting me,”

“Distracting you from what?”

He reaches up, brushing the pad of his thumb over your lips, “Stop pouting,” he says, “I’m trying to be respectful, here,”

“I’m feeling pretty respected,” You slip one hand out of his grip and tug at his t-shirt, “kiss me again, let’s double check.”

He laughs properly this time, shaking his head, “I don’t know if it’s a soulmate thing or a you thing, but God, you know all my buttons, already, don’t you?”

“I’m confused,” You relax in his lap a little, arms folding over your chest to cover yourself, “we were making out and it was perfect and now,”

He nods, “I know, let me explain,”

You wait for him to say more, the soft silence his opening.

“We know each other,” He finally says, “but I don’t know what you like in bed,”

“Oh,” Your shoulders relax a little, “well, traditionally we would have sex and figure that out,”

He rolls his eyes at you a little, a smile still on his lips, “y/n,”

“Sorry, sorry, go on,”

His hands settle over your thighs, “Every time we touch it feels like a fire,” he confesses, “and I’m trying not to lose my mind before we have a chance to talk about any of the important things, I don’t want to cross a line, I don’t want you to feel rushed or uncomfortable with anything,”

You sigh, about to say more but he shakes his head and continues.

“Without talking I won’t know what you don’t want,” He says, “or even if you want tonight to be the night, if you’re on birth control or if we should use condoms,”

The thought of that sparks a clarity in you like no other and you realize he’s right, you were both so close to losing yourselves you could have made a mistake of the whole night. You blink, nodding this time.

“And I’m afraid if we keep going like this,” He continues, “if we go upstairs without talking, I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough to walk away without fucking you and making you mine tonight.”

Your heart thumps in your chest. You’ve never been held like this, talked to like this, no one in your life has ever searched for your boundaries on their own quite like this, with sex or otherwise and you know suddenly with perfect truth what this night is going to be.

You nod, and then you smile, “Can I talk now?”

“Please,”

“I’m on birth control,” You start off with the easiest answer, “and I’ve been tested since my last partner, so as long as you have too we can go without condoms,”

“I have,” He nods immediately, “it’s been a while and that’s part of our regular health screenings,”

“Good,” You let your arms relax now, resting your hands on his shoulders as you keep going, “so that’s one thing cleared up,”

He smiles.

“As for the rest,” You hold his gaze, “I liked how you talked to me on the phone very much,”

He swallows hard.

“I’m pretty sure I know what you’re asking,” You let your thumb rub over the pulse point in his neck, “so let me be clear, I like that. I like that you want to take control, and I like that you want to tell me what to do. Very much.”

He nods, “And,”

“I’m not the type to do something I don’t want to,” You promise him, knowing it’s as much of a promise to yourself after everything you’ve experienced in past relationships, “if something isn’t right for me, I’ll say it.”

His shoulders relax under your touch, “Good,”

“My guess though,” You nudge him, “is that we’re pretty compatible if the universe thinks so too,”

“I thought so,” He murmurs appreciatively.

You lean a little closer to him, and his arms slide around your back to hold you as you muster up the courage for the next part of answers to his questions, “For what I like,” you start, “let’s figure out the details together.”

He nods.

“For what I don’t like,” You tell him softly, “um,” your voice cracks a little with nerves and discomfort, a tone you were hoping to conceal at least for tonight.

He watches you fumble over the words, a little crease between his brows as he tries to parse out what’s behind your tone, his thumb dragging a comforting line over your vertebrae.

You sigh heavily and tell him your boundaries in a rushed breath, “Don’t pull my hair too hard, and if I’m ever using my mouth on you, just tell me before you move, alright? We can figure the rest out as we go,”

His expression smooths, and his eyes study yours with the start of a question. You didn’t want to go here, not for a while, but something about your connection with him or maybe even just his earnestness makes you tell him more than you ever normally would.

Again, as he always seems to, he senses the sudden tension in your chest and simply nods before touching your cheek gently, “Anything else?”

You shake your head.

He watches you carefully, his touch soft, and then with easy comfort he finds a question, “Do you want to tell me?”

There’s no demand in it, no insistence, only the offer of an outstretched hand, a listening ear. The momentary tightness relaxes inside you and you shake your head, “Not tonight,”

He wants to ask more, you can see it, but your past sexual experiences no matter how clumsy or good or borderline traumatic should have no space in your night here with him. He’s worried though, you can see that too.

It’s quiet for a beat as you take that in, and he nudges you gently, “You okay?”

“Mhm,” You nod, “I promise, but let’s not talk about it tonight,”

“Alright,” He draws you close, a soft kiss to your lips.

You return the kiss warmly, pressing the promise of later honesty into your intention and he nods, reading you with ease.

“Yunho,” You murmur as you part, “I do want it to be tonight,”

“You do?” He confirms, hand sliding up and down your bare back.

“I want this,” You cup his cheek, “I want us, and I don’t want to wait anymore,”

“Say that again,” He lets your words from a moment ago fade, focusing on what you’re telling him now.

“I want this,” You pull at his t-shirt again, restless energy creeping its way back into your body.

“Not that,” He dismisses, “the other thing,”

You know just what he wants to hear, but you play dumb for just a moment, “I don’t want to wait anymore?”

His hand tightens on your backside, “y/n,”

“Us,” You smile, “I said I want us,”

“That’s it,” He kisses your smile, “I like the sound of that,”

“I want us.” You repeat for him, lips to his, “Now, please, will you take me to bed and make me yours? Or do I have to beg?”

He groans, “Let’s go to bed,”

“So easy,” You tease him, sliding off his lap and reaching for him.

He pushes himself off the couch but slides his hand into yours and tugs you close again, “I’ll make you beg another time,”

Your stomach flip flops, arousal spiking through you and he smirks at your dazed expression.

“Cute,” He taps your nose and steps towards the stairs, “you’re sure?”

You’re about to protest again, a heavy sigh brewing in your gut, but he clears his throat and continues.

“On tour,” His eyes shift to the floor for a moment, “I know you were anxious about us, and we talked about waiting. I’ll… I know I want you, and I’m going to keep wanting you. I can wait if that’s what you need, we can date,”

The one good thing about the tour and all your sleepless nights was how long you had to think about this, about him. Your initial panic and fear over logistics and what-ifs had faded in days. He’s here, standing in your apartment, so you trust your gut, and you trust fate, and decide for once in your life to let someone in.

You step close and pull him towards you, “Yunho, I don’t want to date,”

His eyes flick to yours, his irises dark, “You don’t,”

“I said I want us,” You take his hands in yours and direct them to your hips, “I know what that means,”

His eyes study yours for a moment, and then he sighs, “Good,” he pulls you up into his hold and crashes your lips together.

This time there’s nothing between you, no schedules or secrets, no indecision or questions keeping you from letting go. With both eyes open you’re diving into each other, and nothing in the world could stop you from tying yourself to him tonight, body and soul.

You feel him shift on the landing as you kiss, and you pant a single word against his mouth, “Bed,”

He nods, stumbling up a few steps without breaking your lips apart, one of his hands secure on the railing to guide him upwards.

You giggle as he tips to the side and rights himself, leaning back and looking down to see how far up he managed to get you both, “Let me down,”

He eases you to your own step.

“Get up here,” You tug his hand and take the familiar steps to your loft bed as quickly as you can, dragging him behind you the whole way.

Once you hit the landing you take your hand back and start unbuttoning your jeans, but you stop at the sound of a soft thump and Yunho’s soft curse under his breath.

Turning you realize the issue, he’s too tall for your landing’s slanted ceiling, and he must have bumped his head on the way up to your bedroom. You laugh sharply, covering your lips to stifle the sound, “Sorry,” you grin, “are you okay?”

“Fine,” He rubs the spot, but shakes it off.

You turn back to the bed and tug the downy comforter open, “You’re too tall, when we get our own place we’ll get high ceilings,”

Something warm floods your chest and then he’s on you again. Yunho spins you around and dips to kiss you, only this time there’s an edge to it, a neediness. He walks you back until your knees hit the edge of the mattress, and then he wraps his arms around you and pushes you down in one smooth motion.

Yunho slots himself between your thighs, and you hitch your legs onto his hips as he presses you into the mattress with hungrier and hungrier kisses.

His lips travel over your jaw, your throat, “You said when,”

“Hmm?” Your brain feels cottony and light already and you turn your head just a little to hear him again.

His hand drags down to the top of your jeans, tugging at the zipper, “You said when, not if,”

“Yunho,” You smile, gasping as his teeth nip at your throat, “we’re about to tie ourselves together for life, did you think I haven’t thought about living with you?”

He groans, “You’re perfect,”

You thread your fingers through his hair, “So are you,”

He tugs artlessly at the top of your pants and sighs, “Need these off,”

“Take them off me,” You relax your legs, and he shifts back to stand, looping his thumbs in your belt loops so that when he tugs your jeans, they slide off in one smooth motion and drop to the floor.

“Oh,” He says softly, getting a good look at your now bare legs and the lines of ink that cover so many inches of your skin, “wow,”

You’ve never been self conscious about your tattoos before, not like this, and you find yourself letting your legs fall closed, “Oh?”

”I didn’t realize you had more,” He comments but his expression softens into a smile, “they suit you,”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” His hands slide up and down the plush curve of your thighs, “later you can tell me all about them,”

Your stomach flips pleasantly.

“Right now though,” He pushes your legs back open and drops back over you, slotting your bodies together and capturing your lips.

You sigh pleasantly against his lips, wrapping your limbs around him and drawing him closer, and when his hips drop just enough for your core to press firmly against the front of his jeans you moan.

Yunho groans, his hands wandering.

You roll your hips, pressing yourself more firmly against the hard bulge of his clothed cock, “S-shirt off,” you pant, tugging at the fabric.

He reaches back with one hand and grabs the back of his t-shirt and tugs, yanking it free with ease with only the briefest interruptions to your locked lips. When he presses closer to you this time, your bare chest is pressed against his.

Your brain feels like dizzy stars, like someone picked you up and turned you around in endless circles until you couldn’t help but stagger in his direction, falling over yourself to hold onto him. His hips thrust gently, pushing his hardness insistently at your cunt and you moan into his mouth, your hot breath mingling together in panting sighs.

“Yunho,” You whine, your core pulsating with need.

“Yes, pretty girl?” He smiles against your lips, his hand skimming over the curve of your breast, down your side to anchor on your hip.

You can’t wait anymore, if you do you might combust, and you reach between your bodies to tug at his belt buckle.

He huffs a laugh, “Yeah?”

“Please,” You work the leather loop free, “I’m way more naked than you,”

“Patience,” He nips at your lip.

His button is open with a frantic tug of your fingers, then his zipper, “I’ve been patient,” you push at his jeans, “baby, please, I need you,”

“I need you too,” He balances himself on one hand braced on the bed, shimmying out of his pants, and you hook your fingers in the elastic of his boxer briefs to push at those too.

“Please,” You find yourself begging so easily at the thought of this man pushing inside you.

“Relax,” He kisses your forehead, tapping your hand out of the way so he can take off his own underwear, “I got it,”

You ease back on the bed, but between the space of your bodies you watch him. Your mouth runs dry when he’s finally bare for you, and your heartbeat starts to pick up.

The size of him is intimidating to say the least. He’s long, at least nine or ten inches if you were guessing, but what’s more is how thick he is. His cock is heavy, the kind you’d see in porn and wonder how the women on screen could take it. You can see every vein, the way it stands perfectly straight, the velvety mushroom head already dark pink and slick with the first few beads of precum.

Yunho settles back above you, his hot, thick length resting on the top of your pubic mound, only the thin cotton of your panties keeping you from feeling him fully.

”God,” You breathe, still taking him in, “I hope you’re good at foreplay,”

He squeezes your hip, “We’ll take it slow,”

You nod, still fixated on the sight of him between your legs, and you try not to think about how far up your stomach his cock comes and what that means for when he tries to put it inside you. Instead you focus on the fact that he’s yours, “We were made for each other right?” You joke softly, “I can take you,”

He smooths your hair back and tilts your head up, finding your eyes, “We’ll go slow,” he reiterates, “have you ever been with someone my size? Or used any toys like that?”

For all the sex you’ve had, his question makes you feel a bit like a blushing virgin and you shake your head.

Something flashes in his eyes, and you feel the twitch of his cock against you.

“You like that?” You bite the inside of your lip to keep from teasing him too much.

He brushes past your question, “Let me warm you up,”

Easy relief blooms in your chest, your muscles starting to relax, and he settles his body over you properly to take you right back into a tender kiss. You can feel him hard and present between you, but he distracts you with open mouthed kisses, his hands exploring you slowly until your hips are twitching on their own.

You’re dripping wet, there’s no way you’re not soaking through the thin fabric of your panties, but his kisses continue like that’s the last thought in his mind. He makes his way across your jaw, sliding lower down your body as he lavishes attention on your neck, over the jut of your collarbones, across the smooth plane of your chest and tops of your breasts.

“Oh, yes,” Your voice is breathy as he slides even lower in the bed between your thighs, his mouth skimming over the swell of your tits, ghosting past your nipples.

“You’re so beautiful,” He murmurs, hands cupping your chest and drawing your breasts together, his teeth sink into his lower lip at the sight.

“Y-yeah?” Your hips arch beneath him, “You like me?”

A smile tugs at his lips, one hand sliding up to your cheek as he looks up, “I more than like you, y/n,”

Your breath is caught in your throat, your heart quickening in your chest.

Yunho smiles a little at that, feeling the echo of your emotions himself, and then he dips his face to kiss your chest again. This time his lips travel in a smooth, reverent line down your sternum until you feel his breath against your looped tattoo.

Pleasure sparks inside you and you moan softly, one of your hands threading into the back of his hair.

He hums pleasantly, and then kisses your mark.

“Yunho,” You sigh, heat flooding your body.

He kisses you again, pressing a peck to each of the four corners of the knotted diamond, before centering another again and pouring every ounce of his feeling into it through the link. This time, he murmurs what you already know against your skin, “I love you,”

Tears gather in your eyes, the feeling spilling over into you so all encompassing that it fells you. You tremble in his arms, your eyes locked to the white ceiling above you as you try desperately to steady yourself in the wave of emotion and sensation.

His kisses start to travel lower, and your fingers card through his hair, “Y-Yunho, I,”

“Shh,” He shakes his head, lips moving down over your belly as he shifts lower, “just relax,”

A little piece of you wants to protest, wants to tell him that you love him too, but he settles between your thighs and slides your legs open wider to accommodate his broad shoulders, and every coherent thought flutters right out of your brain.

Yunho kisses your inner thigh, easing himself into the perfect position, and then he wraps his arms around your hips under your splayed thighs, one hand braced on your rib cage and the other closing over your abdomen.

His nose gently, gently nuzzles against your clothed mound and you hear him breathe you in.

You shudder, moaning softly, your hand finding his hair once again.

“I’ll take good care of you,” He murmurs low, kissing your cunt, “I love you so much,”

“Oh,” Your breath catches as he tastes you through the fabric of you underwear, “p-please,”

His hand on your abdomen shifts, and he reaches between your thighs to tug your underwear to one side, hooking it under his thumb to hold it in place. You gasp as his warm breath caresses your slit, your hand sliding to brace his shoulder.

“I got you,” He soothes you, his free hand sliding up and down on your ribs, “I promise,”

A needy sound stutters from your throat.

At the first swipe of his tongue through your slick folds, Yunho groans and you start to tremble properly in his hold. It feels like liquid fire, better than any touch you’ve ever felt, partner, toy, or or own fingers. Yunho’s lips, his tongue, each little brush of his fingers, every bit of him feels like it was divined for you, and you won’t last a minute.

“Feel good?” He checks, sliding his tongue through your lower lips again.

“Incredible,” You pant, your hips canting to try and catch more sensation, “I, I c-can’t,”

He chuckles, the vibrations running straight up your body, “You taste like heaven, baby,”

Moaning, you grip down on his shoulder.

“Mm,” He dives in properly, nestling close and all but kissing your cunt, “god,”

His tongue drives any coherent thoughts out of your head as he gets the feel for your body, the firm tip sliding over your clit and making you jolt under his hands.

“Y-yes,” You manage, nodding into the pillows.

“Here?” He breathes, flicking your swollen clit again.

“Oh, yes, god,” You grip the sheets.

He hums, his hands tightening on your skin, and then he closes his lips over your bud and sucks.

“Oh!” You arch back, hand flying up to catch his head and brace yourself, “Fuck, fuck,”

He stays steady this time, sucking and lapping at you in a perfect rhythm, holding you in place as he finds the perfect combination to have you scrambling in the sheets.

“Baby,” You moan, the word turning into a heady whine.

He groans against you, dragging you tighter to his mouth with a flex of his arms. Your head spins as you slide down the mattress, a bubble of taut pleasure building inside you fast and hot.

“Please,” You moan, your back arching as he delivers a sharp suck.

His broad hand slides up from its place anchored on your side to cup your breast, and you look down to watch him move. His fingers deftly find your nipple, twisting and pinching gently, and as he takes a breath between licks and sucks to your dripping cunt, his eyes flash up and meet yours.

A smile flicks across his wet face, and your eyes roll as you collapse back into the bedding to let him work.

“That’s it,” He huffs as he sucks in another breath, tongue diving back inside you, pulsing and thrusting.

Your thighs start to shake, your body jerks on its own, and he finds the perfect tempo to take you through - his thumb swiping sharply over your nipple back and forth, his mouth working you up higher and higher with a sustained pressure.

The bubble of pleasure arcs up your spine and then settles back down, low in your belly, and you gasp sharply, “God, oh, god,”

He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t change a single thing, he stays steady and that brings you right up to the very edge.

“I’m,” Your eyes snap shut, your body shuddering, “I’m, c-coming, Yunho, I’m… baby, I’m,”

He moans through your babbled pleas, and then you break apart beneath him. Your orgasm crashes into you like a wall of heat, and your body wrenches up tight into fits and starts, legs snapping shut around his ears, fingers knotted in his hair, your free hand braced on the wall behind you as your body jerks itself in rolling grinds against his eager mouth.

He eases you through it, transitioning from sucks to lazy licks with the flat of his tongue, until you’re boneless and melted under him, your legs falling slack open as your eyes stay unfocused on the ceiling.

“Okay,” His low voice comes back to you, and you feel his hands smoothing over your trembling thighs, a kiss to your knee, “that’s it,”

A shiver runs through you, your body suddenly cold at the lack of contact and you take in a sharp breath.

“I got you,” He shifts over your legs, crawling up the bed so he can collapse along your one side, and he wraps you up in his arm.

His cheeks are pleasantly pink, hair a chaotic haystack, his mouth is still glistening from your slick wetness, and he grins down at you breathlessly, “Hey,”

“H-hi,” You sigh.

“Feeling good?” He cups your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

You nod, relaxing into his touch, “Mhm,”

“Good,” He presses a warm kiss to your forehead and draws you into him to let you recover.

You melt into his touch, cheek to chest.

Yunho brushes his fingers up and down your spine and gets his own breath back.

After a few more moments, you sigh, shaking out the post-orgasm haze and kiss his skin, “I’d say I’m warmed up now,”

He huffs a laugh into your hair, “Eager,”

“Aren’t you?” Your hand slides over his bare side.

“I am,” He squeezes you.

Feeling starts to come back into your body and you smile, wriggling in his arms until you’re in a better position and able to follow his earlier lead. You nip gently at his chest and pepper him with kisses, and you smile when you hear his contented sigh and pleased hum. His fingers slide up and down your back as you try to give him a taste of every sensation he gave to you.

At his mark, you follow his kisses exactly, and you feel him twitch, his hard length pressing into your belly where you have his cock trapped between your bodies.

You linger here a moment, “You feel that?”

At your punctuated kiss against his soul mark he sighs, “I can feel you,”

You nod, nuzzling into him, “You’re mine,”

“Completely,”

“I’m yours,” You murmur, promising him the same.

“Mine,” He breathes.

Your kisses travel lower as you work your way down the smooth plane of his abdomen, his muscles twitching under your lips, but as you settle yourself over his hips and work your mouth closer and closer to the base of his cock he shifts under you.

“Hey,” He catches your hands, closing them in his own, “I’m fine,”

“I want to,” You smile, a tender kiss to the underside of his shaft before you let your tongue trace up the seam of his thick member.

He gasps, hips twitching, but he shakes his head, “Wait, wait,”

You pull back immediately and look up, a swirl of feelings knotting in your gut, “What?”

He swallows hard and slides his hands up your arms, hooking under your upper arms so he can tug you back up to lie next to him eye to eye, “Not tonight,”

“I want to make you feel good,” Your hand snakes between you, searching for him.

“You do,” He sighs as your hand closes around him, “you are, but after what you said,”

It feels like a bucket of cold water and your hand falls away from his cock. You hate your ex so much for being anywhere near your head at this moment with this man, but he is. He never hurt you, but the way he pressured you and pushed you into things you weren’t ready for has been an ever present shadow in your sex life even now, years and multiple partners later.

Yunho kisses your lips and tries to keep his tone light, “Another time,” he tells you, “I don’t want to hurt you,”

“It’s not,” You fumble over your words again, “it’s not bad, I’m alright, I want to,”

He smiles and shakes his head, “I’d be more comfortable,”

That takes the wind right out of your sails, and you sink into him, “Oh,”

“You want to make me feel good?” He asks.

You nod.

His hand slides down your arm, drawing your own hand to his aching cock, and he closes your fingers around it, “Touch me, then, we’ll have time for the rest later,”

He’s hot in your hand and you take in the weight of him as you slide your fist up and down to explore him.

He groans, “Again,”

You pump your hand once more, base to tip, rolling your wrist experimentally this time as you work his tip. Leaving any thoughts of the past behind, you focus on him entirely.

“You’re s-so good at this already,” He sighs, “just like that,”

Your bodies shift to accommodate, he cuddles you closer with one arm wrapped around you and your legs tangled together, and slowly you start to learn his body too. The way he twitches as your fist drops down to the base and squeezes, his gasp when your knuckle brushes up over the seam of his cockhead. His eyes blow wide when your thumb collects a bead of precum to rub up and down his shaft, and he moans when your fingers tighten and release.

His free hand snakes between your bodies, finding your slippery center again like he’s been touching you for years.

“Oh, Yunho,” You part your thighs.

He groans, eyes slipping closed for a moment, “You’re so wet,”

You moan as he slides his fingers lower, teasing your entrance with his fingertips.

“Needy,” He murmurs.

You do your best to focus on him, but the pressure of his fingers at your wet opening has you jerking your hips. Your hand tightens on his shaft and he sucks in a sharp breath, nodding. His cock feels so right in your hand, thick and pulsing, and you shiver, “I should have known you’d be huge,” you giggle against his shoulder.

He smirks, “Yeah?”

“You’re tall,” You start.

He pulls his fingers back away from your pussy, dragging the pads of his fingertips over your clit as he does and you moan, a whiny needy sound from the center of your throat.

“Not all tall guys,” He starts to say but you pump your hand just right and he curses.

“Mm,” You slide closer to him if at all possible, “but you’re big everywhere,”

You punctuate your words with a gentle tease of his cockhead, the pad of your thumb rubbing a circle into the seam that made him pant before, and he twitches, his eyes rolling.

He swallows tightly and smiles, “Am I?”

“Mhm,” You nip his chest lightly with your teeth, pumping your hand again nice and slow, “big feet, big hands…”

“Been thinking a lot about my hands, sweetheart?” He teases, dragging his nails lightly up and down your thigh.

“Shut up,” You duck your face, planning to double down your efforts on his cock, but he pushes your hand away and rolls you smoothly onto your back. You drop back with a squeak, your eyes flying up to his.

“You have,” He teases, sliding his palm down your body, a slow and torturous pace on the path to your cunt once again.

“Maybe,”

”Fantasizing about my fingers?” His voice is low, warm in his chest, and he slowly presses his middle finger over your clit.

“Oh, fuck,” Your head drops back, eyes finding the ceiling once again only this time Yunho makes a soft noise, his tongue against his teeth and he shakes his head.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” He murmurs, his fingers rocking gently over your swollen bud.

You are a little, but there’s something in his tone that tells you he likes it and you think about the way his eyes flashed at the idea of being your first partner his size. With every little touch you’ve been figuring him out, and this suddenly feels like he’s allowing himself to want you in the way he needs. If he wasn’t so good at pressing all your buttons you’d try to tease him again, but when you meet his eyes and see the heat behind them, all you can do is melt.

His next words leave you breathless, “I fantasize about you,”

“Y-you do?”

“All the time,” He nods, his hand between your thighs getting bolder as he explores your wet folds.

“Please,” Your hips arch as the tips of his fingers pass over your entrance again.

“Oh baby,” He groans, and you feel his hard cock twitch against your thigh, “you need it?”

You nod, reaching down to find his wrist, tugging him to communicate while your head feels so full of fuzzy pleasure.

“Fuck it,” He bites his lip as he looks down at you squirming in the sheets, “I’ll tease you later,”

“Thank g-,” The words die on your lips, punched out of you when he slides two of his impossibly long fingers deep into your cunt in one push.

He doesn’t wait for you to beg this time, with his eyes glued to your every expression, he reads your pleasure and starts to pulse his hand, pumping his fingers in and out of your fluttering core with strong, steady strokes.

“Yes, yes,” Your legs widen, and you collapse into his shoulder, “oh my god,”

His fingers feel thick and warm in your cunt, crooked just right to reach spots you could only hit with toys, and even then the feeling of those pale in comparison to him.

“I knew you’d feel good,” He pushes your legs open wide with his free hand, “can’t wait to have you wrapped around my cock,”

Pleasure arcs up your spine and you moan, your hand flying to his bicep and gripping down hard, “Fuck,”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder as he adjusts his position and in torturously slow pumps of his hand, he starts to work you open. He scissors his fingers wide as draws them out, and when you feel him push in a third finger as deep as he can go, you shudder against the sheets.

“So tight,” He murmurs, the words sounding like praise on his lips, “you’re squeezing my fingers, pretty girl,”

Your cunt clenches in response and he chuckles.

“Exactly like that,” He smiles and thrusts his fingers in and out again, increasing his pace as your breath starts to quicken.

“Y-Yunho,” You jerk against him, the bubble of a building orgasm once again gathering low in your gut and you scramble in the sheets until you’re legs are open as wide as possible, one leg hitched over his. You can’t stop watching him now, the lean muscle of his arm, the way the tendons in his forearm twitch with his movements. Pushing up on your forearms you catch sight of his index, middle, and ring fingers gathered tightly together, glistening with your wetness as they plunge in and out of your fluttering cunt.

“So beautiful,” He groans, kissing your temple and wrapping his free arm around your back to adjust to the position change, giving his arm enough leverage that he can keep thrusting in and out.

You moan at the heady sensation of his fingers at your g-spot, hips pushing down into his hand.

“Want you to come again,” He says hotly against your hair.

You nod, heels digging into the mattress as your body jerks, needily meeting each stroke of his fingers with your hips.

“Tell me,” He says.

“H-harder,” You beg him, sensation cascading through you, “harder, baby, please,”

“God, yes,” He adjusts, and suddenly you’re pinned back to the mattress flat on your back, one of Yunho’s broad hands stretched wide on your sternum to pin you in place as he fucks you open with the other.

Perfect, almost painful pleasure has your eyes slamming shut and a desperate whine on your lips, “Oh, oh, oh,” each push in of his fingers punches out a breathy moan, your pussy fluttering as he draws you up to the peak.

“Tell me you’re close,” He pants, “I want to hear it,”

Your nerve endings light up, your body arching under the hard press of his hand, “I’m so close, I’m so f-fucking close,”

“Come for me, baby,”

Your nails dig into his thigh, the pressure mounting inside you, “Again,” you manage, begging for more.

His fingers curl, just a little more, “Come,” he says it again, only this time his tone is sharper, deeper and more direct. It’s not a question, not a wish or a hope, it’s a command.

Your free hand claps over your mouth, stifling a moan and you bite down on the fleshy heel of your hand to keep from screaming.

“Come,” He holds you steady, “that’s it, let go, let it all go, baby,”

Your body erupts into ecstatic shakes, pleasure rolling through in wave after wave, but all you can do is let it.

“Just like that,” He groans, “fuck yes,”

This time, as your orgasm starts to abate, he doesn’t kiss you tenderly or wrap you up for a cuddle, this time he’s just as frantic as you are.

“I need you,” He pants, his body over top of yours once again, “y/n, fuck,”

You blink hard, still a trembling mess, and you see his own desperate expression. His cheeks are pink, brow slick with sweat, pupils dilated with desire as he opens your legs and crowds you with his body.

“T-talk to me,” He manages, his hand directing his weeping cock to your throbbing entrance, “tell me you still want this,”

“I want this,” You reach for him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him closer, “I want you,”

“God,” He’s shaking, his body taut like a rubber band about to snap, and somewhere inside you you can feel the amount of self control he’s exhibiting just to go slowly.

You moan sharply when his tip drags over your throbbing clit.

“You’re so wet,” He pants, watching between your bodies as he slicks the head of his cock between your folds.

“For you,” You breathe, your head feeling cottony.

“So pretty,” The head of his cock nudges against your entrance and you shiver.

Need sparks through you, “Please,” you tug at his hip, just a little and he smiles.

“Tell me if I need to stop,” He manages, his weight collapsing a little as he slowly starts to push his hips forwards.

You gasp as you start to feel him, your cunt still swollen and pulsing from two back to back orgasms, and his eyes snap up.

Yunho watches your face carefully as he moves, his body strung tight as he tries to hold onto a thread of composure. It feels normal at the start, but as he pushes in past the head, you feel yourself start to stretch wide in a way you’ve never experienced and your breath starts to quicken.

“Oh, fuck,” You look between your bodies, watching his slow sink into your wet heat, and swallow tightly at just how much of him is left to take.

“You okay?” He asks breathlessly.

“Uh-huh,” You manage, “I can feel everything, but god, don't stop,”

He hisses, gripping your thigh with his free hand, fingers still slick with your juices, fighting the urge to lose himself. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his eyes flicking over the expression of tight pleasure on your face.

“Don’t you dare pull out,” You grip down on his shoulders and roll your hips roll a bit, taking him in another inch, “you feel so good,”

He lets out a heady breath, and moves in just a bit more, “Yeah?”

“Never felt anything this good,” You moan as he pushes in further, your walls fluttering and clamping around his hot length.

He rolls his hips this time, just a little experiment to drag himself in and out without fucking into you fully, and he moans when your muscles lock pleasantly around him, “God, you really were made for me,”

“Yours,” You say it like a vow, and in a strange way somewhere in the back of your mind you know it is. A dizzy promise in an almost marriage bed as your bodies sink together.

His breath hitches, cock shifting inside you, his head dropping so that you’re forehead to forehead, “And yours,” he agrees softly.

Your body feels hot suddenly, hotter than before, everything a hazy glow in the dim lighting of your bedroom. You feel all at once like you’re in the moments before a wave, the sudden suck back of the water with all the sand slipping away from underneath your feet, leaving you unsteady and sinking into the earth. Your ears catch with a dull ring.

Your breath is comes quickly now, warmth flushing your chest and cheeks, and your nails tighten on his skin, “Yunho,”

He adjusts to meet your gaze, and you realize he’s feeling exactly what you are, the thrumming sensation of it all but swirling around you in the air. He blinks hard, “I’m.. I need,”

You understand him without words, you know exactly what he needs because you need it too. Through the fog of sensation, you pull lightly on his shoulders and hitch your calves on his hips, drawing him in deeper, “Please,”

His hips drop, seating himself just a little more and you moan at the stretching sensation. He’s holding himself back, clinging to the one clear thought that he promised he’d take care of you, but his resolve is crumbing apart before your eyes.

“Yunho,” You cup his cheek, begging him with your expression to let go, “I need you,”

He swallows hard, his chest flushed red, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.

The words flood out of you, a whispered confession just for him, “I love you, please,”

He exhales in a rush, a wide smile breaking across his face, his eyes shining, and without any more hesitation he thrusts forwards and sinks his full length inside you.

You moan sharply, wrapping your arms around him as he drops his body down on yours, sweat slick skin pressed flush together. The hot dizziness grows, and he finds your lips, moaning against your mouth as he kisses you hard. Your bodies start to move in sync, a tandem push and pull as he rolls into the cradle of your hips, your breath tangled together as you rock in the sheets.

Yunho leans his forehead against yours, pumping his hips slow and firm, “I love you,”

The sensation grows, filling the air around you and a chill rushes up your spine, the hair on your arms standing up at attention, the magnetic pull between your bodies so forceful you don’t think a single thing in the world could drag you away from him. Emotion rocks through the link, and then all at once you feel it snap into place.

Your tattoo burns, the brand igniting just like when you touched his cheek for the first time, and you suck in a sharp breath. Yunho’s hips stutter in pace, sinking himself deep until your bodies are nestled together with every inch of him buried inside you.

He’s breathing heavy, arms wrapped tight around you, hands trembling, “I can feel you,” he leans up an inch, smoothing your hair back from your face, “you’re,”

His words die on his lips but he touches his chest and you nod, you feel him too. One single heartbeat, one breath. The link before was nothing, a mere echo of this, a blurry photograph now sharply in focus, and you reach up to brush your fingers along his cheek, his lips, a ghost of the sensation along your own face.

“How is this real?” Tears prick at your eyes. You’ve seen the movies, read the books, you’ve talked to people who have found their soulmates before, but nothing could have prepared you for this. You feel him inside you as if he were a part of you, his skin your skin, his emotions, even the shape of his thoughts.

You understand all at once why people say it’s possible to die of a broken heart. If you ever lost him, lost this…

“I’m here,” He interrupts your internal spiral, dipping to press a kiss to your lips, “I’m not going anywhere,”

“How did you,” You shake your head in strange awe of the feeling, “what is this?”

“I don’t know,” He kisses you again, “I just knew, I felt it,”

Tears spill over, snaking back into your hairline, and you press your palm to his chest, sliding down over his tattoo. Words fail you, all you can feel is the overwhelming breadth of your souls together. How could anyone live without this, how could anyone believe this isn’t real?

“Don’t cry,” He soothes, wiping the tears from your temples with his thumb.

“I’m happy,” You manage, finding his eyes again, “Yunho, I’m so happy,”

He grins, his breath catching in his throat as he lets his forehead rest on yours again and he nods, “Me too,”

His love thrums through you, tangible and solid, a truth you didn’t know you could have. You’re grinning too now, an elated laugh on your lips as you wrap your arms around him, “Fuck,” you thread your fingers in his hair, nuzzling into him, “you love me,”

“So much,” He confesses quietly, “I didn’t know I could love someone like this,”

“Me too,” You press your lips to his, sighing into him, “I love you too,”

The kisses feel like his love actualized, nothing more true than his mouth, his need, and yours reflected back in the mirror of his desire. You moan as another wave of heat floods through you, and Yunho shudders.

For a moment, there’s nothing more to say, tangled together in your bed in the middle of Seoul, time seemingly standing still just for you. Tightly locked together, you both start to move again. Each slow pump of his hips down is met with an upward roll of yours, his cock slowly stroking in and out of your pulsing center, your arms wrapped around each other as you pant and moan.

You crumble apart together, still deep beneath the dizzy waves, his mouth hot against your ear as he releases inside you, your cunt fluttering and spasming around him, drawing him in, holding him inside.

**this part was too long for tumblr's new word count guidelines! please check out the second half of this part, here!

#honeyhotteoks fic #honeyhotteoks updates #ateez fic #ateez ff #yunho ff #yunho #jeong yunho #yunho fic #yunho smut #yunho x reader

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biblical-chronicles · 3 days ago

Text

Marked

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where Liam's tattoo makes you feel things [18+]

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Liam hadn’t even dropped his bag properly when you launched yourself into his arms, nearly knocking him over with the force of your excitement. “You’re home!” you exclaimed, your voice muffled against his neck as you hugged him tightly. His familiar scent wrapping around you quickly.

“Alright, love, don’t knock me over.” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you slightly off the ground. “Missed me, then?”

“Of course I did,” you replied, leaning back to look at him. His face, though tired from the tour, lit up with a grin that made your chest ache. “You’re never leaving me for that long again, by the way.”

“Is that so?” he teased, setting you down gently. “Guess I’ll have to bring you with me next time.”

“You better,” you said, swatting his arm playfully. “But right now, you’re staying here, and I’m not letting you out of me sight.”

Liam laughed, pulling you in for another kiss, soft and warm, and full of everything he couldn’t put into words. You barely noticed him steering you toward the sofa, but soon enough, you were sitting beside him, your legs draped over his lap.

“I’ve got summat to show you.” he said suddenly, his voice laced with excitement.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued but wary. “What kind of something?”

“Just... hang on.” he said, starting to fiddle with the waistband of his jeans.

Your eyes widened. “Liam, what the hell are you doing?”

He grinned at your panic but didn’t stop, undoing the button and shimmying the denim down just enough to expose his upper thigh. There, nestled just above the curve of his knee, was your name inked in bold, dark letters.

You stared at it, blinking rapidly as your brain struggled to process what you were seeing. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you finally said, your voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. “Is that... me name?”

“Yeah,” he said proudly, leaning back like he’d just unveiled the Mona Lisa. “Got it done while we were on the road.”

“Liam,” you said slowly, your hand covering your mouth as you tried not to laugh. “Are you mental? You know that’s permanent, right?”

“’Course I do,” he said, his grin never faltering. “That’s the whole point, innit?”

You stared at him, a mixture of exasperation and affection swirling in your chest. “You realize you’ve tattooed my name on your body forever?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, meeting your gaze. “Just like us. Stays forever.”

Your laugh burst out before you could stop it, and you shook your head, feeling equal parts amused and touched. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Always aim to please.” he said cheekily, but the sincerity in his eyes softened the moment.

You slid off the sofa and knelt in front of him, pulling his jeans down a little more to inspect the tattoo properly. It was clean and crisp, the lines healed well enough that you could see the detail clearly. Your fingers hovered over it for a moment before you finally traced the edges lightly, still not quite believing it was real.

“You’re an idiot.” you said, though your tone was more affectionate than anything else.

“Maybe,” he replied, his voice low as he watched you. “But I’m your idiot.”

You looked up at him, shaking your head again but smiling. “You know, this is actually kind of sweet. Insane, but sweet.”

He leaned down to kiss you, his lips warm and firm against yours. “Worth every bloody second.” he murmured against your mouth.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand still resting lightly on his thigh. “You’re lucky I love you.” you said, smirking.

“Yeah, I am,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “More than you know.”

Your fingers lingered on the tattoo, brushing over the ink with featherlight touches as if testing its reality. The fact that your name was permanently etched on Liam’s skin sent a wave of warmth through your chest.

“He’s branded himself for you,” a voice in your mind whispered. “Yours.”

You bit your lip, eyes darting to his face. Liam was watching you with a lazy grin, though his cheeks held the faintest hint of a blush, like he knew exactly where your mind was heading. You felt your pulse quicken.

“You know,” you said softly, voice low and thick with intent, “this is kind of hot.”

Liam’s grin faltered for a second, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Hot?”

“Mhm,” you murmured, sitting back on your heels and letting your hands slide higher up his thigh. His jeans were still bunched low, and you tugged them further, exposing more of his leg. “You’ve literally got my name on you, Liam. It’s like you’re claiming me... but also like you’re mine.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his confidence wavering under your sudden intensity. “I mean... I don’t mind the idea of bein’ yours, love.” he muttered, voice cracking slightly.

“Oh, I know you don’t,” you teased, smirking as you climbed back onto the couch and straddled his thigh. “But you like being told, don’t you? That you’re only meant for me?”

Liam’s breath hitched, his wide eyes flickering with recognition and something more. His hands twitched on the cushions as if unsure whether to hold onto you or stay obediently still.

“Come on, say it.” you coaxed, straddling him and rolling your hips against his thigh slowly. The fabric of your lingerie creating delicious friction between you two. “Admit it—you like it when I praise you.”

He let out a shaky exhale, his head falling back against the sofa. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, his voice dripping with need. “Yeah, I do... I love it.”

You grinned triumphantly, leaning forward to nip at his jawline before whispering in his ear, “Good boy.”

His hips bucked instinctively, and a deep moan tore from his throat. You laughed softly, a little breathless yourself, and pressed your palms to his chest, keeping him pinned in place.

“You’re so easy to wind up,” you teased, rolling your hips again, a little harder this time, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped your lips.

“Yeah?” Liam rasped, his voice hoarse as his hands finally settled on your hips. His grip was firm, but he didn’t try to control your movements—he let you lead. “S’pose that’s ‘cause you know how to drive me mad.”

“Do I?” you asked, feigning innocence as you ground down harder, picking up a rhythm that had you both panting. “Or is it just that you’re obsessed with me?”

“Both,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly on the word. His head tilted forward, and his lips ghosted over your neck before he groaned. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

You leaned back, taking off his shirt and dragging your nails lightly down his chest, leaving red trails on his skin. “Look at you,” you murmured, your eyes dark as you took him in. “All flushed and desperate... just for me.”

“Always for you,” he said, his hands trembling slightly on your hips. “Only you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your stomach flip, and for a moment, you paused, leaning down to kiss him deeply. His lips parted eagerly beneath yours, his tongue meeting yours in a messy manner. When you pulled back, both of you were gasping for air.

“You’re so good for me,” you whispered, grinding down harder as your fingers threaded through his hair and tugged gently. “Such a good boy, Liam.”

The praise sent another moan ripping from his throat, and his hands tightened on your waist as his hips bucked involuntarily. “Fuckin’ hell, keep sayin’ that,” he begged, his voice raw with need. “Please.”

You smiled wickedly, leaning close to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Anything for me good boy.” you purred, your words punctuated by another sharp roll of your hips.

You leaned back, your hips grinding down harder against him as a sly grin spread across your face. Liam’s head tilted back, his neck straining with the effort to keep his composure, though it was clearly a losing battle. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and the flush creeping up his cheeks made him look impossibly vulnerable, completely at your mercy.

“Oh you're so beautiful.” you whispered, your voice low and teasing as your fingers trailed down his chest, playing over the slight sheen of sweat. “All wrecked already, and I’ve barely even started.”

His lips parted, a shaky breath escaping them, but he didn’t respond—he couldn’t. His eyes flickered to yours, dazed and dark with need, silently begging for more.

You let your fingers glide down his arm, grasping his hand gently and raising it to your lips. “You like watching me, don’t you?” you asked softly, your voice carrying a taunting edge as you slowly parted your lips and took two of his fingers into your mouth.

Liam’s eyes widened, and a low moan escaped him as your tongue swirled around his fingertips, wetting them thoroughly. You made a point to hollow your cheeks slightly, dragging his fingers out with an audible pop before kissing the tips. “That’s right,” you murmured, your gaze locked on his. “Good boys don’t look away.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he rasped, his voice hoarse as his hips bucked beneath you again. “You’re unreal.”

You grinned at his reaction, leaning forward until your lips brushed his ear. “Unreal, huh?” you teased, your breath hot against his skin. “And yet, here I am, and you're mine.”

“Yours.” he echoed, the word breaking into a desperate groan as your hips ground down harder. His hands moved higher to hold your waist, trying to steady you—or himself—but you swatted them away.

“Ah, ah,” you scolded, smirking as you sat up straighter. “Hands to yourself, Liam. You don’t touch until I say so.”

The sharp command sent a shudder through him, and his hands dropped obediently to his sides, gripping the cushions as if to keep them from wandering. “You’re bloody killin’ me.” he muttered, his voice deliciously strained.

You laughed softly, leaning down to kiss him, slow and steady, your tongue teasing his before pulling back. “Oh, love,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his lower lip. “We’re just getting started.”

Without warning, you spat lightly into his open mouth, watching as his eyes widened in shock before darkening further. “Swallow.” you commanded, your voice firm, and he obeyed without hesitation, his throat bobbing as he did. “Good boy.”

Liam just moaned, and you felt his thighs tense beneath you, the sheer effort of holding back driving him to the brink. “Please,” he begged, his voice raw. “Need you so bad.”

You hummed thoughtfully, as if considering his plea, before reaching down to drag the lace of your panties aside. The feel of his length, hot and throbbing against your core, sent a shiver up your spine, and you couldn’t resist rolling your hips against him once more. “You need me, huh?” you whispered, your tone dripping with mock sympathy. “Then beg for it.”

“Please,” he repeated, his voice breaking as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Please, love, let me feel you. I’ll do whatever you want—just need you.”

His desperation was quite intoxicating, and you couldn’t resist teasing him a moment longer. “Good boy,” you purred, taking off his underwear and guiding him to your entrance with deliberate slowness. “Now, let’s see if you can be as good as you sound.”

The moment you sank down onto him, a moan tore from his throat, and his head fell back against the cushions, his eyes squeezing shut. The stretch and fullness made your own breath hitch, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

“Eyes on me,” you commanded, your fingers gripping his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “I want to see that pretty face when I ride you.”

Liam’s gaze locked on yours, his pupils blown wide with lust, and he nodded, captivated. “Y-Yeah,” he stammered, his voice shaking. “Anything for you, love.”

With a wicked grin, you began to move, setting a pace that had you both moaning in tandem, the sound of your bodies meeting filling the room. “That’s it,” you murmured, your fingers digging into his chest. “Take it like a good boy that you are.”

You rocked against Liam’s lap, the friction and heat building, every movement drawing gasps and moans from both of you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, though he still let you control the rhythm, his face a mix of pleasure and vulnerability as you moved.

As you leaned closer, you cupped his flushed face in your hands, forcing him to look at you again, your lips hovering just inches from his. “You’re so beautiful, Liam,” you murmured, your voice low and reverent. “Do you even realize what you do to me? Those eyes… that smile. It’s not fair.”

Liam’s lips parted in a shaky gasp, his pupils blown wide as he held your gaze, his chest heaving. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “You… you’re…”

“Perfect,” you interrupted him, your thumb stroking his cheek as your hips rolled harder, grinding against him. “You’re perfect, Liam. The way you look at me, the way you touch me… no one even comes close to you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I didn’t even know I needed.”

His breath hitched, his hands trembling slightly against your skin as he gripped you harder. His hips bucked up, and the desperation in his movements made you smile. “That’s me good boy,” you whispered, leaning down to press your lips to his ear. “Taking it so well. So good for me.”

His hands slid up your sides, his fingers finally digging into your waist as he let out a low moan. “I love you.” he rasped, his voice hoarse and uneven.

You pulled back slightly, your hands trailing down his chest, your nails lightly scratching over his skin, leaving faint red lines behind. “You deserve this,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “All of it. You deserve to feel good, Liam. You deserve everything. I love you so much.”

His lips trembled as he tried to respond, but all that came out was a choked moan, his head tipping back against the cushions as his eyes fluttered shut. You leaned down, pressing kisses along his jawline, his neck, and the column of his throat, savoring the way his body reacted to every touch.

“You’re the best, Liam,” you murmured between kisses, your lips brushing against his heated skin. “The way you take care of me, the way you’re always there for me… you don’t even realize how incredible you are, do you?”

He let out another broken sound, his hands sliding down to your thighs as his grip tightened, his breathing ragged. “Love… you’re… fuck,” he stammered, his voice cracking with emotion and need.

“Shh,” you whispered, bringing a finger to his lips. “I know. I know, love. Just let me take care of you.”

You shifted slightly, your movements more deliberate now, grinding down against him, his body jerking beneath you as a desperate moan sounded from his throat. His hands flew to your hips again, trying to slow you down, but you weren’t having it.

“Don’t hold back,” you said firmly, leaning closer so your lips were barely brushing against his. “I want to hear you. Every single sound. Don’t you dare hide it from me.”

The command made him groan loudly, his hands trembling as they slid up your thighs. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, his voice wrecked. “You’re too much, love. Can’t handle it.”

“Yes, you can,” you countered, pressing a kiss to his lips before pulling back to meet his gaze. “Because you’re mine, Liam. My good boy. Aren’t you?”

His response was just a breathless, “Yeah. Yours. Always.”

You smiled, your fingers trailing down to his lips, pressing two of them into his mouth. “Good boy,” you said softly, watching as his eyes widened slightly, his tongue brushing against your fingers. “That’s it. Just like that.”

The sight of him completely at your mercy, his face flushed and his eyes dark with need sent a fresh wave of heat through you. “Look at you,” you murmured, your voice full of admiration as you began to ride him harder. “So beautiful. So perfect.”

His moans grew louder, unrestrained, filling the room as your praises poured over him. “Fuck, love,” he managed to say, his voice shaking. “I… I love you so fucking much.”

You paused for a moment, your chest tightening as you looked down at him. “I love you too.” you whispered, leaning down to kiss him, your hands framing his face as you poured every ounce of your emotion into it.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, anchoring you to him as your bodies moved together in perfect harmony. Each shift of your hips drew a sharp gasp or a deep moan from him, his head falling back slightly as his eyes locked onto yours, full of unrestrained vulnerability and passion.

“Fuck,” Liam rasped, his voice trembling with raw emotion and pleasure. “Love… you’re… you’re everything.”

You leaned in closer, your forehead brushing against his. “So are you,” you whispered, your voice shaking as your movements became more desperate, grinding against him with increasing urgency. “I mean it, Liam. No one—no one—comes close to you.”

Your words seemed to spur him on, his hips bucking up to meet yours, his grip on you tightening as his breathing became more ragged. “You’re too good,” he muttered, his voice breaking as his head tilted back. “Too fuckin’ good.”

“And you’re perfect,” you countered, leaning down to nip at his jaw, your teeth scraping lightly against his skin before soothing the spot with your tongue. “My perfect, most beautiful boy.”

The praise sent a shiver through him, and he let out another moan, his hands sliding up to cup your waist as his body tensed beneath you. The sound of his pleasure pushed you closer to the edge, your pace quickening as your nails dug into his chest, leaving faint crescents in his skin.

“Liam,” you moaned, your voice thick with need. “I’m so close.”

“Me too, love,” he choked out, his voice barely a whisper. “Fuckin’… can’t hold it…”

You leaned forward, your hands framing his face as you forced him to look at you, your gaze locking onto his. “Let go, Liam,” you murmured, your voice a mix of a plea and a command. “With me.”

With a final roll of your hips, the tension that had been building finally snapped, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you cried out his name. Liam followed moments later, his body shuddering beneath yours as his moans filled the room. His hands clutched at you desperately, pulling you closer as you both rode out the waves together.

As the pleasure faded, you collapsed against him, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you both struggled to catch your breath. Liam’s arms wrapped around you tightly, his lips pressing soft, reverent kisses to the top of your head.

For a few moments, the room was silent save for the sound of your mingled breathing. Finally, you lifted your head, your fingers tracing over the sweat-dampened skin of his chest. “Well,” you said, your voice soft and teasing, “I think it’s only fair that I tattoo your name on me now. Right?”

Liam let out a breathless laugh, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he grinned at you. “Don’t be daft,” he said, though his eyes sparkled with affection. “But… if you’re serious…”

You laughed, leaning down to kiss him again, soft and lingering. “We’ll see,” you murmured against his lips. “I just might be.”

_____________________________________________

hope you lot enjoyed this little piece of media xx

big thanks to @shes-thunderstormssss for the wonderful idea, was a pleasure to scribble down, can't wait to hear what you thought x

love ya all !!

#oasis x reader #oasis one shots #oasis band #britpop x f!reader #britpop x reader #britpop fanfiction #liam gallagher x reader #liam gallagher x you #liam gallagher x reader smut #liam gallagher x y/n #liam gallagher smut #liam gallagher fanfiction #oasis fanfiction #oasis fic

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foolbehavior · 1 day ago

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I definitely agree that Badeni’s tattoo plan is convoluted and has a high risk of failure on multiple fronts, but I think done more in-service of concluding his character arc.

Badeni’s story is deeply tied to Ocxy (and Jolenta to a lesser extent), and formulating a plan like this proof of Ocxy’s impact on him. It hammers home one of the main themes of Orb; of how the idea of a moving Earth can dramatically move people as well and the power of shared connection. Badeni—a man seemingly immovable in his mission of proving heliocentrism through independent research and concrete scientific evidence—ultimately forming a plan entirely dependent on trusting in people and the power of inspiration/inherited will, while still maintaining his flair for the dramatics. It’s pretty poetic to me.

That being said, though the result of his plan is the same as simply leaving Ocxy’s book behind, I think there are also a few practical, non-character arc reasons he may have chosen this method of delivery:

Badeni is explicitly trusting Grabowski with the fulfillment of his plan

He knows Grabowski has an interest in the secular (re: the poem), thus may be more open minded to these ideas.

He knows Grabowski is a compassionate man and it’s much harder getting rid of 60 people vs burning/ignoring a book. Hostages in a sense, as you also mentioned, but their efficacy as hostages increase because he’s targeting Grabowski specifically.

The convoluted nature of his plan is a trial of sorts. If Grabowski is willing to listen to his letter, follow the beggar, and not run away, he’s likely to go all in.

Like how he hooked Jolenta through her curiosity, or how Hubert did similarly to Rafal.

Since Grabowski is very aware of Badeni’s prickly, bad personality, him trusting other people may also be a sign to Grabowski of the depths of importance the information holds.

So willingly trusting others must mean it’s something Badeni would change his principles for.

Badeni wasn’t planning on leaving anything behind in the first place, so he was already staking it all on small hope.

If he’s going to leave something behind anyway, might as well do all he can to hide it and he’s a man that doesn’t do things halfway

Similar to your point of audaciousness, leaving the tattoo heads creates a stronger legacy.

Even if Grabowski fell through, if the rumours of tattooed heads reached the right people it would be intriguing enough to pursue.

Perhaps he thought leaving a book behind, especially one simply written, wouldn’t be inspiring enough to chase down.

Classism and social standing.

Ocxy seems to be the only one consistently caring for the beggars.

Badeni was probably trusting in the fact that the beggars would have no one to tell and that no one would care about them to notice any changes.

Badeni also could have been checking in on them before things went to shit or by having Ocxy visit, he instills in them a sense of being watched (despite Ocxy being unaware).

However, I’m more trying to justify Badeni’s actions rather than fully understanding them. As you said, we can only guess based on the limited info we have. Only Badeni know’s what Badeni is thinking and unfortunately the man himself is dead. But it’s fun to think about…

Ok, maybe a controversial opinion, but I don't understand how Badeni's tattoo plan was in any way clever or practical.

Functionally, how is it any different from simply making a paper copy of Oczy's diary and hiding it in a safe place, then leaving behind directions to find it? If he trusted Grabowski enough to lead him to the beggars (making the assumption that he wouldn't report the blasphemous tattoos to the church), then I'd say he could equally well have left the entirety of Oczy's diary with him directly.

Worse, tattooing the pages on 60 different people causes a bunch of unique problems that a paper copy doesn't have.

Firstly, life expectancy wasn't exactly fantastic in those times, especially for a beggar. By the time Grabowski discovered them, half the pages could be missing from them dying — or hell, just moving to a different slum. I'd say it's very lucky that all of the people Badeni tattooed both survived and stuck together long enough for the plan to work.

Secondly, that's at least 60 people who have witnessed/experienced Badeni tattooing something weird on their heads. They may not know how to read, but they should have at least some idea of what writing is. So, again, it's an immense stroke of luck that none of them, at any point, got curious or suspicious enough to go to a clergyman and ask "hey, what the hell did this guy write on my head"?

And remember, that's 60 people we're talking about. Whatever chance one of them has to accidentally or deliberately reveal the plan — multiply it by 60. Plus, if even one of them was discovered, catching all the others would have likely been fairly easy for the church.

So... what exactly was the point of the whole plan? If you think about it, it's an immense amount of work for seemingly no reward. I'm genuinely curious what Badeni thought the advantage was in doing things this way.

[2025-01-15 EDIT:]

On further reflection, the only two possible reasons I can think of are:

Badeni was hoping that his sheer audaciousness would create an emotional effect on whoever finds the writing. The plan was proof of his devotion to the cause, and a plea for the next person not to squander all this effort. Though I seriously doubt this would be enough to sway anyone devout to the church, so it's a bit of a stretch.

The 60 tattooed beggars were essentially hostages. Badeni was expecting that if the church found them, they would be accused of heresy and executed. So he put 60 human lives on the shoulders of whoever finds the writing. Reporting the tattoos would mean condemning 60 people to death, which I bet even devout believers would hesitate to do.

But these are just guesses based on imperfect information. If the beggars explained how they were unwittingly roped into the plan, maybe they wouldn't be executed. So it's unclear if they'd even work as hostages.

#SORRY THIS GOT LONG WINDED #and tumblr list formatting sucks 💀#also saying all this as anime only #of course the mangaka also knows the reason(s) but hope for further clarification on this front is unlikely imo lmaoo #my honest reaction to ep 15 reveal was ooooooh you crazy mf #the audacity of this man this icon #and then upon reflection it was ???? GIRL WHY DID YOU DO THAT ??#but to me the fact that he did all that to preserve ocxy’s writing forgives the questionable aspects #character arc reasons sells it for me #also badeni is silly lil guy TO ME #and his arrogance makes him blind (literally)...though that’s not necessarily the case here #orb: on the movements of the earth #chi chikyuu no undou ni tsuite

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natade-art · 13 days ago

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okay now that i have a solid outline of a whole story and most of a fake wiki page and pages of generative writing about her personality and role i think i can redesign her again says insane oc zelda maker

#au zelda #zelda au #zelda forgotten flame #zelda aurelion hyrule #bringing back a little bit of the shapes from my original 2019 zel...#like the flare leggings and more triangular shapes like the shirt imitation the old designs corset a bit #i like her old gloves and sleeves from one conceptual design i didnt like overall much so i borrowed them back #as well as imitating the ribbon tie at her neck with the tie on her cloak #changed her face paint.. tattoo...? deciding. so its closer to smth we see more in zelda than just totk sonia insp LOL #aaand made her hair a little more altp zelda but more blunt like i wanted. i really enjoyed drawing her hair a certain way #but i only liked it in a particular style i dont usually draw in or want to be confined to to like the hairstyle. so.#i might play with her color scheme some more though teehee we'll see

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espumado · 1 year ago

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#finally someone talked about syd's tattoos #and there are more tattoos than we though😍#that was for me!!!#all of Syd's tattoos cataloged😍🥰#the bear #syd adamu #ayo edebiri #I still need to know why they decided to show this in the middle of a Carmy and Clair montage🤔🤫#I need Ayo to talk about this #one by one #she liked the post👀#sydney adamu

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hillbilly---man · 1 year ago

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so there's this coworker of mine who makes me feel like daniel

It's like meeting the alternate universe version of yourself where you were cool in high school and managed to get your life together a little sooner

#it's neat #we were chatting yesterday about our experiences having to change host families in Japan unexpectedly when we were 16. WILD #she has many more anime tattoos than i do though

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logaritmi · 2 years ago

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#lmao HI i remembered this account and had to come an lurk in here #IT's BEEN YEARS #and i just????#i went through my posts and jesus christ i'm so emotional right now #skam still has a tender spot in my heart as it literally changed my whole being and soul and mind and body #but the funniest thing is that i actually married someone who's bipolar and bisexual #and yeah yeah ik evens pan but STILL #(and lmao sorry i lied we aren't married)#(YET)#(i have a ring on my finger though)#life literally gave me my even after years of loving isaks and evens love #and i think it's kinda beautiful that my isak valtersen type depressed ass found its bipolar king even type fiance #name a more iconic duo than isak and even or me and my fiance #okay thank you and goodbye i don't think i will active here even tho i now remember the password (and overall existence of this blog lmao)#i'm just emotional about life and thinkin about getting a tattoo about isak valtersen #tldr: i miss skam and i love my fiance who happens to remind me of even quite a lot lol

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dzozef · 8 days ago

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one thing that i love about myself is that my personal aesthetic, fashion sense, hobbies and personality all go together perfectly well and kinda make sense.... and then theres just this insane obsession with joseph joestar added on to it randomly that just gives my whole life a different vibe

#yapping #like. most people that know me irl can not imagine me liking any character even a little bit cause #it just goes against everything they know about me #ive had one of my best friends be shocked to hear im even a jojo fan.... just cause it was never brought up before in conversation somehow #and i randomly showed up like “omg i got a star birthmark tattoo”#n i think it ruined his whole perception of me AHHAAHAHHAB #he said hell give jojo a try though cause he trusts my taste (a mistake on his part but a welcome one)#anyway i am what the aesthetic girlies strive to be.... until i open my mouth n its just joseph brainrot 😔#THOUGH I THINK THAT COMBINGING MY HOBBIES WITH JOJO IS FUN IDC #ill be assigning jojo characters perfumes and cocktails and shit like that in my spare time hehe #like. who i am makes sense to me.... the fashion sense all of it.... but i think other people perceive me in a very specific way #cause w my other friend we were talking at a restoraunt and i showed her my joseph plushie in my bag and she was so confused #and im here like ????? this is genuinely so on brand for me you guys just dont get my brand #i love when ppl think im fancier and more sophisticated than i actually am #its odd to experience also #like i sit at home playing lethal company for like 6 hours nonstop every day #i am not your proper aesthetic pinterest girlie im sorry

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insanechayne · 5 months ago

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~ ~ ~

#at partner’s parents’ house for the weekend to celebrate their grandpa’s birthday #long drive from Utah to New Mexico which wasn’t really so bad just a bit tiring and annoying #but I’m kinda bummed because partner wants to just sleep on the couch while I take their old bedroom myself #and like I get that there’s some practicality in that since the bed is a bit small for two people and there’s not much space in the room #but I’ve only been here one other time and I wanted to be able to sleep next to them as usual #which would be especially comforting in an unfamiliar environment with people I’m not super close to yet #and would give us time to just be alone together for a while #but now it’s just me alone which really sucks #and I also feel bad because this is their house and they should get their own bedroom back not sleep on the couch #feel like my being here has pushed them out into a less comfortable spot which just makes me feel guilty #I know they wanted me to come and are happy I’m here with them but still it’s just a not great situation all around #kinda wish I hadn’t come at all and just stayed behind to watch the cats #coulda been at the tattoo expo in my town getting my first ever tat or something #coulda had plenty of time to myself back at home rather than this odd situation #and maybe even could have hung out with bestie for a while since he said he wasn’t doing much this weekend #though he hasn’t called or texted me back since this morning so idk maybe we wouldn’t have done anything together #still I just feel awkward about this whole situation #maybe I just need to settle in a bit more or maybe I’ll be happier once this weekend is over who knows #personal

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foldingfittedsheets · 3 months ago

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Working at the mattress store generally means a lot of long shifts. Ten hour days are not uncommon. You come in, sit alone in a box for a long time, maybe sell a bed, it’s fine. It’s not usually an issue of safety, though, because who’s coming in to shakedown a mattress store? We have no cash and nothing really portable.

But there was one night where I was whiling away my time and a guy came in. He was a big guy, muscular and very punk, tattoos, piercings, the works. We got along fabulously and while helping him a middle aged white couple came in. I was pleased to have a livelier night than I’d anticipated. I bounced back and forth between the disparate parties, eventually finding beds for both.

I finished sooner with the couple but they lingered uneasily by the front of the store instead of leaving and eventually beckoned me over. I trotted along to ask if everything was okay and the woman whispered to me that they were scared to leave me alone with the guy. It was getting late and he appeared quite menacing to them. I wanted to laugh, he was an absolute sweetheart, but instead I assured them that all was well and they could go.

They departed and I immediately told the guy what they’d said. We both had a hearty laugh over it. He finished his purchase and went on his way.

In the last hour, I had my final customer. A young white man in immaculate clothes, button down shirt with freshly shined shoes. Reader, I wanted to bolt. The man had the discordant energy of a cracked bell. Something was deeply wrong with his vibes despite his polished exterior. I desperately wished the nice couple would come hover in the doorway and stare.

I gritted my teeth and greeted him, projecting a friendly and unconcerned air. It seemed clear pretty quickly that he wasn’t actually that interested in getting a bed, which alarmed me even more. I tried to go through the process of fitting him for a mattress but instead he would segue off into telling me about his life while making unblinking eye contact. He asked probing questions about me. I longed for the nice punk man to come back in with a question.

I soldiered onward, visualizing my panic button and refusing to show the slightest hint of unease to him. Eventually he told me that he played piano. He asked if I would like to see a video of him playing piano. I said okay. He then turned his phone over and showed me his screen. In it, he sat staring directly into the camera while playing piano. Above the screen he stared with the same intensely unhinged energy in the video, two sets of serial killer eyes fixed on my tiniest reaction.

I smiled politely, pinned in place by social niceties. After an eon the video finally ended. It was clear he was not going to buy a bed. I insisted that I needed to lock up. He asked if he could stay for that. I firmly informed him he needed to leave for that. With reluctance he drifted out the door as I radiated calm assurance of my own safety and power, locking the door behind him. I turned out the lights and crouched behind the desk in the darkened store, peeking out to watch.

He sat in his car for a long time. But eventually he drove away. I darted out to my car and got home as quick as I could.

The encounter remains one of the most unsettling I’ve ever had in retail. In my decade of serving the public I helped a parade of characters from the harmlessly eccentric to the genuine creeps but this man truly frightened me unlike anyone I’d ever dealt with.

#ramblies #retail horror #retail #bed store #serial killer vibes #story #writing

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honeyhotteoks · 12 hours ago

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across stardust - two (j.yh); section two

summary: you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you’ve never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he’s so much more than a crush, he’s your soulmate.one | two (section 1); (*section two) | three | four 🔗read on ao3 ✨across stardust pinterest board

note: i hope everyone enjoys this chapter. it's wildly fluffy and wildly romantic, and then deliciously smutty so i hope everyone enjoys. **this part was too long for tumblr's new word count guidelines! please check out the FIRST half of this part, here!

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 28.1k

**did you read section one of part two yet? if not, click here!!

Slowly, ever so slowly, the hazy cloud starts to lift. You’re both still shaking, Yunho hiding in your shoulder, his lips brushing against your pulsepoint as he comes back down from his high. Your fingers are locked tightly on his back still, legs pinning him to your pelvis, and it takes time for you to breathe through the last bits of dizziness and start to feel some kind of normal again.

Finally you feel him exhale out an intentional breath and kiss your shoulder before pressing up on his forearms to look down at you, “Am I crushing you?” He lifts a bit of his body weight off, but you keep your arms locked.

“Don’t go,” You say, holding him steady.

He smiles dreamily, and shakes his head, “Not going anywhere,”

Your legs fall slack on either side of him and you let your hands slide down to rest on his chest, “Good,”

His eyes flick down over your bodies, to where you’re still connected hip to hip and with the fog of your newly cemented bond lifted, you feel a pang of his concern, “Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, smoothing your hand over his chest, “Mm-mm,”

“You sure?” He takes one of your hands in his and gently kisses your knuckles.

“You would have felt it if you did,” You remind him, “looks like we were right, we really were made for each other,”

He rolls his eyes and smiles at your soft teasing, “Uh-huh,”

You thread your fingers with his and tug him back down to where you rest in the pillows, kissing him as you do, “Mm,” you sigh, “do you think it will feel like that every time?”

“If it does,” He laughs, “I’ll never make it out of this bed, I better resign now,”

You nudge him, “Not funny,”

“It’s a little funny,” He kisses you again, “but maybe I should, just keep you right here on my cock all day,”

You shiver at his words, “And I’m the tease,”

He laughs a little but squeezes your hand, “If it feels like that every time, I’m not teasing,”

Your stomach flips pleasantly at his words, “Well,” your fingers skate down his chest, “we do have three days,”

“That’s true,” He murmurs, his brow quirking playfully as he pecks a kiss to your lips, “do you have any objections to me keeping you right here?”

You shake your head, “We’ll have to eat at some point, though,”

“I’m pretty sure we can manage having sex in the kitchen,” He nips at your lip.

“My kitchen’s pretty small,”

“I’m very creative,” He counters, his kisses traveling down your jaw now.

You sigh, breathy as his tongue catches on your throat, “W-where else?”

He huffs a laugh, “Shower,”

“Of course,”

“Couch,” His teeth tug gently at your earlobe and your muscles flutter and clench. Yunho groans lightly, and you feel his cock start to stiffen up inside you again.

“And then?” Unconsciously, your legs start to widen just a little more.

“The wall,” His voice is low and warm in your ear, “how see-through is that window, anyways?”

Your eyes roll and you twitch under him, fingers tightening on his skin, “It’s reflective glass, you c-can’t see through it,”

Yunho hums pleasantly, sucking at the pulsepoint of your neck and sending a shock of heat down your body, and you feel him start to stiffen up inside you again. A little breathy sound bubbles from your lips, and his hips grind down into yours just a little. His jaw tightens, muscles tense, and you feel him rock hard again and pressing insistently at all your sweet spots.

“A-again?” You shiver.

“Baby,” He sighs and chuckles, “all night,”

Part of you thinks he’s kidding about that, but with that look in his eyes you know he’s more than serious.

“Usually I’d need a little bit,” He admits, shifting up to his knees and dragging his hands down your body, “but you make me crazy,”

You nod, moaning as his cock shifts inside you with the position change. Nothing has ever filled you like this, felt like this. The stretch is delicious, the way he seems to reach the tenderest places in your cunt that makes you see stars. The dizziness from the bonding a moment ago has dissipated, but the searing heat is still there, and you shiver, his fingertips skating over your tattoo before his hands find a home on your hips.

“What do you say, baby? Can you take me again?” His hips pulse slowly, a torturous drag in and out to tease you.

“Fuck yes,” You moan, one hand flying up to the wall behind you to brace yourself.

“God, you sound pretty,” He pulses his hips again, punching a surprised moan from your throat, “exactly like that, I’m addicted to that sound.”

He’s so verbal now that you’re not both swimming in the sensation of your newly forged bond, that night on the phone really was just a glimpse into who your partner is behind closed doors, his idol persona left on the concert hall floor.

”J-just like that,” You nod, gripping the sheets.

“Like that?” He teases, dragging you down onto his cock with his hands on your hips, “Yeah?”

You moan again, “Harder,”

“Fuck,” He curses, hands tight, sure to bruise, “we’re going to be so good together, aren’t we?”

Before you can respond, he answers your plea with his hips, picking up the pace so that each pulse forward is met with the drag down of your body, connecting your bodies with firm, sharp snaps, the sound wet and wanton.

“Y-yes, yes,” You all but sob, pleasure arcing through your belly and a fresh sheen of sweat breaking over your brow.

Yunho groans, roughly fucking into you in just the way you needed, his body slick with sweat and glistening in the low light, his muscles flexing and relaxing with every snap of his hips.

His mouth falls open, thumbs digging into your belly where he grips your waist, “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,”

Your cunt clenches, “You feel so good,”

“That’s my good girl,” He breathes, his eyes hazy and lips parted as he watches you coming apart beneath him.

You moan hard at the praise, your belly fluttering and clenching at the memory of how he talked to you that first time. You’ve thought of it dozens of times, desperate for exactly this, “Yes,” you whine, “I love when you call me that. Love when you talk to me like that,”

Yunho shudders, his hips stuttering in pace and he groans, “Yeah?”

“Don’t stop,” You reach for him, nails brushing over his skin as you try to get your hands on him.

“Not stopping,” He assures you, but his hips do slow as he says, “what else do you like, hmm?”

You can feel his curiosity, and his arousal too, the way he wants to know every button that makes you tick. Your slick channel pulses around his cock and you sigh in the sheets, “What do you think I like?”

A half smile quirks his lips and he slows his pace to a stop, “Are you trying to tease me?”

Your cheeks heat, caught under the exactness of his gaze and the rolling ripple of arousal through your body.

“Cute,” He murmurs again, but he rolls his hips once hard to make you moan, “so pretty when you moan for me,”

“God,” You have to pull your eyes away.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” He brushes your hips with gentler hands.

“I’m not,” You drop a hand over your face.

“You’re blushing, baby,” His fingers loop under yours and pull your hand away from your eyes.

“Don’t pretend it doesn’t turn you on,” You counter, “I can feel you,”

“Oh?” He quirks a brow, rolling his hips, “You can feel me?”

“Shut up,” You groan, flutters rolling through your abdomen.

“Let’s see if I can make you really embarrassed, hmm?”

“Yunho,” You manage, but you’re caught under him, the press of his hips and the firm pressure of his hands.

”You’re mine, right?” His fingers skate over your body as he adjusts himself onto his knees between your splayed open thighs, “You trust me?”

Anticipation buzzes inside you, your mouth running dry. In this position you’re completely exposed, his eyes raking over your every inch, and when his tongue darts out to wet his lips with his tongue, your breath quickens

“Do you?” He prompts softly.

“Y-yes,”

He smirks a little, and then he settles on his heels and squeezes your thighs, “You like when I grab you,” he says, “I can feel your little jolt of excitement every time I do this.” He squeezes again for good measure, and just like he said your stomach jumps.

“You’re my soulmate,” You sigh, “of course I like it when you touch me,”

“Mm,” He nods, his hands skating up your skin until he’s cupping your breasts, “fair, how about this?”

You soften, “That’s nice,”

“And this?” He squeezes a little and you swallow to keep your composure, but when he finds both your nipples with his thumb and forefinger to give them a gentle pinch, you pant, “This?”

He watches your eyes go glassy, and you’re sure he can feel the liquid fire pooling in your belly.

He pinches them again, this time adding a little more pressure and tugging them upwards a bit before he releases.

You moan sharply, fingers locking down on the bedding beneath you at the sharp zing that passed from your chest to your achingly neglected clit.

“Is that nice, baby?” He tugs again, “Or am I being too rough with you?”

He’s teasing you, and you shiver, “Not too rough,”

The muscle in his jaw tightens but he lets that pass, cataloguing it and moving on, “And I think we’ve already established you like my hands,”

“No surprise there,” You sigh.

“My fingers?” He slides his hands up, and your heart starts to beat faster in your chest. Yunho settles one broad hand at the base of your throat, his fingers circling your neck gently. He doesn’t apply any pressure, but the way his thumb and index finger brace each side of your jaw has you trembling in his hold.

You swallow, throat bobbing against his palm.

“You do,” He murmurs, his voice a little rougher. With his opposite hand, he ever so gently touches your lips with the pads of his fingers, and like you’ve done it for him a thousand times before you let your mouth fall open.

He drags his fingers over the curve of your lower lip again, and your cunt spasms around his cock where it's still buried inside you. He smiles at your reaction and then he hooks two of his fingers over your lip, resting on your teeth.

You gasp sharply, your tongue pressing against the pads of his fingers.

He waits, his patience a challenge, and then you melt. You dip your head forwards to accept his fingers into your mouth, letting them slide back on your tongue, your lips closing around them so that when you drag your head back you can suck them just a little.

You can taste yourself on his skin and he groans, “Good girl,”

Your core clenches again, but as his fingers slip free from your mouth you pulse your muscles again to tease him this time, “You’re easier to read than you think,” you tell him, “I know what you like too.”

He smiles, full of cheek, and shifts back to roll his hips, “Yeah?” He slides his hand down, spreading it wide over your belly, “I like being inside you,”

“You like,” You start but he shakes his head.

”I like being buried so deep I can feel it here,” He presses down with the heel of his hand and thrusts forwards, driving his cock into you, and the tight sensation of his cockhead punching into your g-spot leaves you moaning, all teasing forgotten at the sudden sensation of pleasure at his hands.

Yunho drops over you properly now, gathering you back into his arms and pushing your legs back open wide with a tilt of your hips. He kisses you hard and then his hips start to pulse, “I like knowing this little pussy belongs to me,”

“Oh, fuck,” You grip down hard on his shoulders.

“That’s it,” He tips you back, rolling into you, “open up for me,”

You moan hard, arching into him.

“Fuck,” He curses low in your ear, “sweetheart, you feel incredible,”

You nod into his shoulder, “S-so do you, don’t stop,”

“The best thing I’ve ever felt in my life” He manages.

“Yunho, god,”

“That’s right,” He slips a hand under our leg, sliding up the back of your thigh to pin you open, “so good,”

Hot need arcs up your spine, belly tight with burgeoning pleasure, and you shudder a broken sob into his skin, “Please, please,”

He thrusts hard, groaning with every jut of his hips, “Fuck,” he pants, “you want to know what I really like?”

“Yes, yes,”

”I like you like this,” His kisses travel over your slick skin, “messy, begging for me,”

“For you,” You babble almost mindlessly.

“I like you coming,” He moans, “I could watch you come forever,”

“Fuck, god,” Your head falls back to the mattress.

“I want to make you lose yourself,” His pace steadies, and he drops his hand from your leg to the sheets for better leverage, “I want to watch you go so cockdrunk you don’t even know what sounds you’re making, how loud you’re being for me,”

“Yunho, oh my god,” Your moan is rough, deep in your chest.

He drops his forehead to your hair and nods, “Exactly like that,”

Your body is starting to move on its own, your thighs trembling, and your hips canting upwards to catch more friction on your clit as he fucks you, and you whine in heady need.

In a flash, his hips lock down hard, your body arching into his chest as you start to see the bursts of color behind your tightly shut eyes, but he doesn’t stop moving. Yunho grinds down, rocking his hips to give you extra pressure, and with needy jerks of your body you hump artlessly up into him, pleasure rolling up from your clit as he cock sits heavy and thick inside you.

His lips connect with your ear as he drops his body weight over you, hands gathering you close, “That’s it, greedy girl,”

Sparks roll up your spine and you moan into his shoulder.

“That’s it,” His hand slips down and cups your ass as you shudder, “take it, take it,”

You gasp sharply, nails digging into his shoulders, “Oh, god, oh fuck,”

“There she is,” He says hot at your cheek, his face leaving heavily against yours, “there’s my girl,”

You moan, and he circles his hips, grinding deeper.

“You like taking every inch of me, baby?” He flicks your nipple sharply, “You like knowing you were made for me?”

Your orgasm feels like it’s a breath away, ready to pull you open in a snap, and you sob beneath him, “M-more,” your head falls back as you scramble beneath him, heels digging into the mattress as you arch and try to bring yourself up and over the edge.

“Come for me,” He kisses you, wet, fast, “come on babygirl,”

“Ah, ah,” You press your eyes tight, holding him like a lifeline as you reach for it, “p-please, I want to come for you so bad,”

“That’s it,”

The pressure in your body builds, but you can’t reach it, and you ache to push your hands between your thighs. In a flash, his hands pulse on your skin, and he kisses you once more before pushing up and away from your body and drawing his cock halfway out of your aching center.

“No, no,” You reach for him, eyes fluttering open in the hazy dim.

On his knees once again he starts to rub your clit, his thumb pressing firm circles, the slick sound of it making your eyes roll back.

“God,” You curse, a ripple of pleasure running through you like a spasm.

He licks his lips, watching your face intently as he works your swollen bud, “Yeah? Do you need this to come?”

The husky tone of his voice makes it sound like dirty talk, but you know he’s also asking for real, learning your body for the first time. You nod, “Usually, but, it’s not,”

“Shh,” He pulls back, sliding his cock out of your wet warmth and kissing your knee before letting your legs fall slack to the mattress and shifting to your side, “I want to give you what you need,”

“You are,” You tell him as he kisses you, nuzzling into you.

“I can feel it,” He reminds you as he slides behind you, spooning you now and caging you in with his arms, “I know what you need, let me give it to you,”

You shudder, melting as his hands slide over your body, “Mm,” you sigh, “I was j-just going to say I don’t think I need it with you,”

“But it’s better?” He asks, lifting your leg and hooking a hand under your knee.

You angle your hips with an arch of your back, opening yourself to him, and gasp as he directs his cock back into your slick hole, “N-no,” You manage, “I don’t know,”

He kisses your shoulder, “Let’s find out,”

With a swift punch of his hips forwards he seats himself again and you moan, gripping down on the pillow under your cheek.

“There we go,” He croons and you moan into his bicep. He hums, fingers teasing your slit as he pushes in and out, “is it better because I’m bigger?”

“Yunho!” You gasp as he thrusts again, head falling back against the top of his chest.

“Do I hit your sweet spots, jagi?” His voice is hoarse with his own need.

“Yes, god,” You moan.

“Tell me,” His middle finger finds your clit again, “say it,”

You babble a response through a taut moan, “You’re so big,”

“And?” He bites down on your shoulder, rubbing faster.

“You’re the,” You gasp as his hips punch back and forth sharply, “oh, fuck, yes, you’re the biggest cock I’ve ever had,”

“Good girl,” He moans, “that’s my good girl,”

Hot pleasure rolls through you at his words and you whine.

“Feels good?” He teases.

“So good,” You manage, “so, so good,”

“Let go,” He kisses your cheek, gritting his teeth to focus on working you with his fingers an the steady pulse of his hips at the same time, “let it go and come,”

Your hand flies to his forearm, gripping onto him as you cry out, and he pants behind you, kissing any part of your skin he can reach in this position.

“Good girl,” He murmurs low, “just hold onto me,”

He slides his other hand from your knee to your hip to brace you steady and then he starts to adjust the pace of his hips, still slow, but firmer now so that every snap of his hips strikes a wet smacking drumbeat through the room as he circles his fingers on your slick clit.

Heat rockets through you, your nails digging into his forearm, and then you feel it. Just a little more will take you right over the edge, and you choke out a breathless moan, “Please, please,”

“Come,”

Your stomach tightens, legs trembling, and when it hits you crack open in his arms. The wave takes you just the same as before, and distantly through the ringing in your ears, you can hear the muttered pleas of Yunho as he feels the rush of your pleasure through the bond.

You’re boneless, both of you shaking, and then he wraps his arms around you properly and rolls onto his back, your body laid prone across his chest. His cock stays deep inside your pulsing core as you turn, but with a hiss he jerks his hips back and pulls out.

“Baby, oh my god,” Your chest is heaving, and you reach back for him, finding his cheek.

He’s quiet, shuddering beneath you.

“You didn’t come?” You manage, still breathless.

He shakes his head against yours, “Don’t want this to end too soon,”

“We have days,” You tell him, “now please, I want you to feel good,”

His hands tighten on your hips as he weighs your words, and then with a slow shift of his hips you feel his cock start to press at your entrance again. He slips home with ease, and you moan at the sudden stretch of him again, his cock thick and pulsing with his almost orgasm.

“I,” He pulses his hips once and groans, “oh, I’m not going to last,”

“Don’t stop,” You urge him again, “please, just take me,”

He moans, his stomach tightening, and then he starts to move.

He’s pumping in and out of you now, pinning your back to his chest with his arms banded around you as he rolls his hips and you can feel the tether in him start to fray. He’s getting close, but even without the bond you’d know it. His breath is thready, a hot pant against your ear, and your bodies slide together with slick sweat.

He feels unreal, stretching you wide with every rhythmic stroke, but you feel his heart hammer when your legs start to fall closed, your walls tightening around him.

“You’re mine,” He breathes, “s-so beautiful for me,”

“All yours,” You sigh, and this time with intention you draw your thighs tight together.

The position is tangled, muscle straining and almost an accident, but suddenly his cock has never felt bigger or thicker or perfectly positioned to hit that spot again and again. He groans, and holds your hips firmly to bounce you back down into every thrust as he chases his release.

Your head falls back over his shoulder, and you reach up to brace yourself on the wall behind your heads, your other hand still cupping his cheek and holding his face to yours.

“Shit,” He curses, “so tight, fuck, babygirl,”

You moan, “Please, yes, yes,”

“So tight and,” he babbles against your cheek, “fuck, still taking every inch of me,”

“So deep,” You gasp as his pace increases, and your eyes slam shut, a bubbling snap of pleasure rolling up your spine.

”God, I’m,” He shudders, moaning in earnest now, “b-baby, I’m close,”

You feel his need, suddenly striking you through the unmasked connection of the bond, and though he doesn’t ask you for anything, beg you at all, you know exactly what to give him.

You moan, arching your back to take his cock inside just a little more with every stroke, “Yunho,” your fingers lace into his hair and you turn your head to find his ear, “come,”

He huffs, fingers pressing bruises into your hips.

”I’m all yours,” You tell him, voice husky, “this pussy is all yours, all yours,”

“Mine,” His hips snap harder, a punishing pace, and you feel the taut edge of his pleasure.

“Made for your cock, baby,”

“Fuck,”

“No one’s ever fucked me like this,” You pant, knowing exactly what your words will do to him.

He groans, burying his face in your shoulder.

”C-come inside me,” You beg, “make me yours,”

His teeth sink into your shoulder, his hips erratic, “Mine, mine,”

“Yes, baby, please,” You rock your hips, taking over the rolling motion where he’s started to falter.

“I’m,” His words are cut off with a groan, and his hips slam up twice more before he holds himself in deep and you feel the hot sensation of his cum pumping inside you.

His orgasm yanks you down into your own in an unexpected flash of sensation, your vision fuzzy, head dizzy, and your body jerks in ecstatic fits and starts as you moan, wanton and wordless in his ear.

“One more,” He murmurs, recovering from his own heady orgasm faster than you, his hand pushing between your locked thighs, middle finger circling on your pulsing clit, “just one more,”

Your hips jerk with overstimulation and you whine, “I can’t,”

”Yes,” He kisses your forehead, bracing your body with one and while his other blissfully tortures your aching cunt, “come on, sweetheart,”

“Yunho, oh, oh, God,” Your orgasm stretches, his fingers cresting you straight up into another shuddering peak.

His body curls around you, dipping to the side when you jerk, holding you into his chest as he works you through it. The sound of his tender voice carries you up, “There we go,” he croons, “oh, god I love you,”

“C-Coming,” Is all you can manage, and your body folds in on itself, your orgasm white hot and almost painful.

He shudders as he feels you finish, and slows his fingers, “Good girl, come. I love you so much, can you feel me inside you, baby?”

You manage a nod, moaning into the sheets, riding it out with rocks of your hips until it turns from pleasure to sharp overstimulation and you whine, pushing his hand away.

“I got you,” He wraps you up tight, spooning you from behind, “shh, you’re okay,”

Trembling, you pull his arms to your chest, using him as your anchor as he shifts his hips and finally uncouples your bodies.

“You’re okay,” He repeats, “just breathe,” He kisses your hair softly, soothing you with gentle touches as your breath returns.

“M-mhm,”

”You’re perfect,” His lips travel to your shoulder, “I love you,”

“I love you too,” You murmur, resting your lips on his knuckles.

“Love you, love you,” He mutters against your skin, and you sink into him, a contented smile on your lips.

You lay wrapped up together for what feels like hours, both of you coming back into your bodies slowly. His arms slacken, and you slowly roll onto your front, cheek against the cool sheets as you recover from the whirlwind of bonding.

He murmurs sweetness against your spine, massages circles into your hips, and little by little your mind reconnects too.

Yunho sidles down in the bed, cuddling you from behind, “Are you hungry, sweetheart?”

You shake your head a little but you say, “Maybe a little,”

“Let’s go downstairs, I’ll fix you something,” He says, even though it’s your apartment.

You smile and shake your head again, “Five more minutes?”

He kisses your shoulder and you feel him nod, “Five more minutes,”

Cocooned in his warmth, and in the perfection of your bed, you let yourself relax.

More than five minutes have come and gone when he finally speaks again. Yunho’s fingers skate up and down your spine, slowly tracing each vertebrae like he’s making a mental map of you, “When did you get your first one?”

“Hmm?” You sigh, looking slightly over your shoulder at him.

“Tattoo,” He clarifies, now ghosting his touch over the large crane on your back, “you have so many, but when did you start?”

You stretch in the sheets, and roll towards him, shifting onto your back now and twisting your arm to show him the delicate lines of your first tattoo, English script in faded black. desire.

He passes the pad of his thumb over the lettering and the corner of his mouth quirks up.

“Not because of the song,” You laugh softly, “I was seventeen,”

“Hmm,” He lets his fingers travel up, studying more of your lines of ink, “young,”

He traces the lines of the flowers, the fan, the stippled black and gray twisting across your skin.

“I know,” You tug the sheet up a little higher, tucking it around your naked body to ward off some of the chill of your apartment, “I just wanted to do something reckless for once, but then once I started,”

He nods, listening, waiting for more.

“I think I wanted to get under my parent's skin,” You admit, “they were already so disappointed in me, so I thought why not give them something to be really disappointed in?”

He frowns a little, a crease between his brows, “I hate that you felt like that,”

“I’m okay now,” You promise him, “Hana and I rarely see them, just holidays and phone calls on birthdays, that kind of thing.”

He nods, pressing a kiss to your hair, “Still,”

You give him a tiny shrug, and you find yourself reaching up to your soul mark and brushing it, “For a while I was just running, from them and then from this,”

“Your mark?” He asks softly.

You nod, “It was a reminder of that house, of how much they didn’t believe in it. They never even wanted Hana and I to daydream about it, to wonder what it would be like to find our soulmate. They were so set on us following the path they laid out, and for a long time the mark was a reminder of what I wasn’t supposed to want.”

He swallows tightly, and you feel his discomfort at your words, the flicker of anger in his gut.

“I’m alright,” You continue, “but the tattoos started like that. First something to provoke them, and then something to distract myself from seeing this. I thought about covering it, but,”

“You did?” His eyes widen.

“I considered it,” You tuck your hand in his and give him a squeeze, “but then I realized that the farther I got from believing this could happen for me, the closer I got to what they wanted all along,”

He studies your expression for a moment and then scoots closer, tucking your bodies together and cupping your cheek, “When did you start believing it could happen again?”

You remember it so clearly, the pact you made with Iseul, the lines you wrote in your journal that year. You smile and look up at him, “When I got the job at KQ, Iseul and I went out for celebratory drinks when I received the offer letter,”

His expression softens, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone.

”I decided it was time to grow up,” You explain, “so we agreed that we would date, have fun, and keep looking for the one, but we’d never settle down for less than our soulmate, no matter how long it took to find them.”

Yunho dips towards you, kissing you tenderly, “I love you,”

Tucking into his chest you nod, “I love you too,”

His arms loop around you, cuddling you so that you’re nestled into his warmth, “For what it’s worth,” he murmurs, his fingers carding through your hair, “however you came to them, they’re beautiful, you’re beautiful,”

A brief flicker of tears pricks the back of your eyes and you press a kiss to his sternum, “Thank you,” you kiss him again, “I love them now, and now I get them for myself,”

He hums, nodding with his lips on the crown of your head, nuzzling you gently.

For a moment it’s quiet, just your heart and his beating in time against each other, but then your stomach tightens as you realize something you’ve been neglecting.

You sigh heavily, “I need to call Hana,”

“You haven’t told her?” He asks, despite already knowing the answer.

“No, have you told your brother?”

His hand stills on your back, “I texted him,”

Your eyebrows raise, “You texted him?”

He nods, “Is that alright?”

“Of course,” You say in a rush, “I just, I don’t know, I’m surprised.”

“We don’t see each other often,” Yunho says, “but we’re close. It felt strange not telling him something this big in my life,”

You nod, “Exactly.”

He brushes a hand up and down the length of your back again and then starts to untangle his body from yours, “How about this, can I use your shower?”

“Sure,” You’re about to tell him where it is, all the little quirks, but he keeps going.

”After, I’ll run back to my place and pick up things for the next few days,” You strangely hate the idea of him leaving, but you know that was always part of the plan considering he didn’t bring anything with him, “while I’m busy give her a call,”

”It’s late,” You find yourself protesting.

He smiles, “It’s not, you’re nervous,”

You rub at your chest, feeling the curl of anxiety there, “Yeah,”

“She loves you,” Yunho reminds you as he pulls himself out of bed, “and she knows what having a soulmate feels like, she’s going to be so happy for you, for us.”

“You’re right,” You breathe.

“I know you miss her,” He adds softly, “and I know you want to tell her, let me give you the space to do that.”

Warmth expands in your chest and all you can do is nod.

He smiles wide, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then he stretches, “Alright, shower’s this way?” Yunho nods towards the obvious path towards the bathroom.

You nod again, and he sighs, “Perfect,”

He disappears down the hall and for a brief moment you’re alone with your thoughts. You let your gaze go unfocused towards the ceiling, and you just feel for a moment. You feel different, lighter and heavier at the same time, like all the cells in your body turned over at once, but the knotted rope between you and him feels thicker, corded, braided, unbreakably sure.

For the first time in weeks, all of a sudden, you feel like you can call her.

You rub your chest again, rolling out of bed and making your way across the lofted bedroom on slightly shaky legs before finding your robe on its familiar hook and wrapping it around yourself, a smooth silk in floral and dark red. With a deep breath, you pin up your hair and find your phone. The sound of running water comes through the bathroom door, so you make your way downstairs for a bit of privacy and to get a cool glass of water. Once you’re tucked into the familiar corner of your couch with a downy blanket over your lower half, you find Hana’s contact in your phone and you call.

She picks up after a few rings, “Hello?”

“Hey,”

“Was your flight delayed?” She asks, her bright voice soothing you instantly, “You always call me when you get in,”

“It wasn’t delayed,” You tell her honestly.

“Ah,” She says, “did you crash immediately? Take a crazy nap? You know that will fuck with adjusting back to the time zone,”

“Hana,” You sigh, and all at once you wish he was next to you.

“I know, I know,” She makes a sound, tongue against teeth, “I’m just saying,”

“I didn’t sleep, or I mean, I did on the plane,”

“That’s good,” You hear glasses clinking on her side of the line.

“What are you up to, am I interrupting?” You ask.

“Hmm?” She says as if she didn’t hear you, and then corrects, “No, sorry, nothing really just some chores,”

“Oh, good, I thought it might be too late to call,” You admit.

“It’s only nine,” Hana says and you can practically picture her eye roll.

Upstairs the sound of your shower taps turning off draws your attention and your eyes flick up to the landing.

“So, your flight was okay?” Your sister’s voice in your ear brings you back to the present and you nod.

“Yeah, listen,”

“Oh,” She cuts you off, “Em wants to know how you liked Paris, you didn’t post anything on Instagram she was devastated,”

Em, Emmanuelle, Hana’s wife and your sister-in-law, born in Korea but half French on her mother’s side, who spent every summer in Lyon. Of course she would want to know how your first trip to France was, and your head was so wrapped up in Yunho you didn’t even think to text her.

“I loved it,” You tell your sister honestly, “so much, I’ll send you both some pictures as soon as,”

“You better,” Hana interjects again, “Em’s right here she’s asking if you had time to see the city?”

“A little, but, Hana,”

The door upstairs opens, and Yunho quietly pads back to your lofted bedroom, one of your white towels slung low around his hips. His hair is wet, mussed from rubbing a towel through it, his chest pink from the hot water and steam. Just seeing him makes you feel at ease, and he meets your eyes, “You okay?” He whispers.

You nod, and he searches for his clothes strewn all over the floor of your bedroom.

“Hana, what?” Your sister prompts, and you realize it’s not the first time she’s said it, “y/n, are you okay? You sound weird,”

Suddenly, you’re deep in a memory. Hana’s tear streaked face in the hallway of your first apartment, a backpack on her shoulder and a defiant jut to her chin. Sixteen years old and standing her ground more firmly than you ever had in your life up to that point, the strength in her voice when she told you she found her soulmate and she wasn’t going to give her up.

“y/n?” Hana says again, concern laced through her voice.

You find Yunho on the landing, watching as he rubs a towel over his hair again, and the words finally tumble out, “I found him,”

“You, what?” She asks, confused.

“Hana,” His eyes flick to yours and you find yourself smiling, blush creeping back into your cheeks, “I found him,”

The penny drops, “Oh my god,”

”I know,” You reply, and Yunho grins, watching you from the landing.

“Oh my god?” Hana all but shrieks and you laugh as she reacts, calling to Emmanuelle, voice muffled briefly as she shifts the phone.

“I know,” You manage.

“Is he French?” Hana babbles, “That would be insane, that would be crazy if both of us,”

You duck your head in laughter, “What? No, no he’s not French,”

“What countries were you in? How the hell did you bump into him - abroad of all places, that’s why it took so long, that’s what I was always saying,” She rambles a mile a minute, and it’s always so hard to slow her down once she gets going, barely taking a breath between sentences.

“Hana,” You cover your mouth with your hand, “Hana, he’s not foreign, he’s Korean,”

Yunho’s still smiling as he comes down the stairs, but he’s not dressed to leave, he’s dressed comfortably in just his t-shirt and his boxer briefs. Relief fills you with the knowledge that he’s not about to leave, and he watches you quietly as you try to navigate your sister as she jumps from conclusion to conclusion.

“That’s even crazier,” She says, “how the hell did you bump into another Korean outside of Korea while you were working constantly?”

“Let her tell the story,” You hear Em’s voice in the background.

“Am I on speaker?” You laugh.

“You are now,” Em replies this time, “hi, y/n,”

“Hey Emmie,”

“I have your sister restrained,” She says, but you hear an irritated huff from Hana, “now, tell us what’s going on and this time Hana’s going to listen,”

“Shut up,” Hana gripes quietly, with no real malice.

“You love me,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hana says, “alright, I’m sorry, I’m listening,”

Yunho waits patiently, but the moment you reach for him, he crosses from the foot of your stairs to your place on the couch. He had felt it, how much you needed him here, that much you’re sure of when he twines your fingers together. With his touch as a tether, you finally tell them, “I didn’t bump into someone random, and you cannot say ‘I told you so’,” you start off, “but, it’s Yunho. My soulmate is Yunho,”

There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the call. Hana is rarely stunned silent, but you wait. She knows the group well, from her teasing when you first started there all the way through listening to you tell her stories about work. There’s no doubt in your mind that she remembers your quietly guarded crush.

“Is he treating you well?” She finally asks, emotion thread in her voice.

“Yes,” You breathe.

“And you love him?”

“Yes,”

She pauses, “And he,”

“Yes, Hana,” You roll your eyes, but feel the rush of tears, “obviously,”

Yunho brushes his thumb over your knuckles and gives you a squeeze.

“God,” Hana says with a little gasp, “you’re bonded already, aren’t you?”

You slide a little to the right to get closer to him, “We are,” you confess.

For a moment you brace yourself, nervous at her reaction to not being told sooner, especially after everything you’ve been through together. At the anxious tumble of your stomach, Yunho separates your hands and reaches around to pull you into his chest and presses a kiss to your temple.

All your fears disappear in a matter of seconds. Hana laughs sharply and then she’s right back to herself, “Oh my god, I don’t care I have to say it, I told you so.”

You grin, a few tears spilling over, “Hey,”

“When have you ever had a crush that lasted longer than a day?” She exclaims, “I knew it,”

“Hana!” It’s Em who exclaims this time, taking the words right out of your mouth and you fall apart into laughter.

Yunho laughs too, softly against your hair and you blush and cover your cheek with your hand at the knowledge he can hear your sister’s teasing words.

“I’m just saying I knew,”

“God, stop,” You curl into yourself, your face in Yunho’s neck, “you’re embarrassing me,”

“Holy shit,” Hana exclaims, “is he there?”

Yunho slides his hand over your thigh and smoothly shifts you into his lap so he can wrap his arms around you, and you sigh, “Yeah, he’s here,”

“You sound so happy it’s freaking me out,”

“I am happy, Hana,” You confess, “I’m really, really happy.”

She takes a breath and you can hear the emotion caught in her voice too, “When can I come up to Seoul? We’re overdue for a visit,”

“Soon,” You promise her.

“The minute you’re free,” She says, “Em and I will make the time, you just say when,”

“I’ll look,” You nod, relaxing into Yunho’s hold, “but soon, I promise.”

“I want to meet him,” She insists.

“He wants to meet you both too,” You tell them, and Yunho nods against you.

“His schedule must be crazy, but,”

“Han,” Em interrupts, and you can practically see your sister in law calming her wife with gentle hand motions.

“I should go,” You finally say into the phone, “but I miss you,”

Yunho’s hand smooths up and down your back.

“I miss you too, Hani-ya,” You haven’t called her that in years, your beloved little sister who grew up too fast, but the familiar affection slips out of you with ease.

“I love you,” She says, “I’m so happy for you, I’m so,”

You swallow tightly and find Yunho’s hand again, “I know, it’s how I felt when you told me about Em,”

Hana laughs, the sound wet with tears, “Oh my god,” she sniffs and you hear her voice muffled as she scrubs the tears from her cheeks, “I knew we’d both find them, mom and dad were too shitty for us not to be happy now,”

You smile, nodding with your head on Yunho’s shoulder, “That I know for sure,”

There’s a brief moment of silence, both of you collecting your own emotions, and then Hana sighs, “I’m sorry, I’ll let you go, but let us know about coming up.”

”I will,”

“And, y/n,” Your sister says, a mischievous edge back in her voice, “tell him he better take care of you, okay? Tell him to pick you first, okay? Every time,”

Your throat constricts, and Yunho’s lips brush against your forehead. Before you can get your voice back in control to answer her, he does it for you, “Tell her I already have, I will,”

You clear the emotion from your throat, “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah,” Hana manages.

“He’s got me,” You tell her honestly, “I promise,”

Hana takes a breath, “Good,” she sniffles, “now stop talking to me and go get laid or something, if we keep talking I’ll keep crying,”

You laugh a little at your sister’s attempt at deflection, “Yeah, or something,”

“I love you, I’ll see you so soon, okay?” Hana says.

“Soon,” You promise again.

“Bye, unnie,” Em cuts in, affection in her voice, “we are so, so happy for you.”

“Thank you,” You smile, “I’ll send you some pictures of France, I’m so sorry I forgot before,”

“Ah, that’s okay,” Em says warmly, “I think you had better things to focus on,”

Yunho squeezes your hand.

“Take care,” She says, “we’ll see you soon,”

“You too,”

Em ends the call, and you let your phone slip back into your lap, letting out a sigh of relief and exhaustion against him.

Yunho stays quiet for a moment, giving you a second of space, and then he kisses you and leans down to find your eyes, “Baby?”

“Yeah,”

“You okay?” He murmurs.

You nod, pressing your lips to his and sinking into him, “I am,” you reply softly when the kiss breaks, “thank you for staying,”

“I realized I couldn’t go tonight,” He says, “I need to be with you a while longer,”

You squeeze his hand still laced in yours.

Yunho’s eyes are glassy with his own unshed tears, and he swallows and blinks to get himself together before he brings your knuckles to his lips and gives you a tender kiss, “I will, by the way,” he says gently, “pick you first,”

You know what he’s talking about, his life in the public eye and his new life with you behind the scenes. You feel his honesty, his confidence, the truth in his words, and all you can do is shake your head. You never want him in that position, especially after everything he’s worked for, “You won’t have to.”

“But I will,” He promises it to you like a vow, sealing it with a kiss, “I always will.”

“I will too,” You whisper, “I’m not giving this up,”

“You won’t have to,” He echoes, a soft smile on his lips.

His kisses are soft, tender now, and he holds you close as he reminds you of all the ways he loves you. Your quiet apartment cocoons you together, a pause in time just for tonight. Night ticks by and Seoul moves outside, but in each other’s arms you stay still, a stone jetty holding steady in the push and pull of the tide.

#honeyhotteoks fic #honeyhotteoks updates #ateez ff #ateez fic #yunho #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #yunho fic #yunho ff #yunho smut

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silkentine · 7 months ago

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Me when they are the sisters ever: 😭😭😭 They came out soooo freaking well. I won’t lie, they took me a thousand years to finish but through the constant support from all of my buds (and my latent bisexuality), we made it 😤

Hopefully you guys know the deal by now: design choices, easter eggs, and (NEW!) closeup shots below the read more. ⬇️

I wanted Ace to have a very down-to-earth vibe and looked at Aussie beach-girls, coastal cowgirls, and vaqueras for reference. (IDK, I’ve just always envisioned Ace as part-Australian🌺 and Mexican 🏴‍☠️) Her clothing choices are mostly natural or utilitarian materials like the painted wooden beads on her top, her woven fabric and leather belts, and her denim jumpsuit. I gave her bikini top a zen-garden kind of feel because I read the first Ace’s Story Novel and I loved how idyllic and peaceful they made Sixis Island sound so I wanted to invoke that in some way.

Speaking of her painted wooden beads, they hang off the back of her top and represent her connection to Sabo and Luffy. They watch her back once she sets sail. She only wears one red glass bead earring because the other one got ripped out of her ear when a child, leaving her earlobe torn (don’t think about it too much 😢). Also, YES! she does wear a hibiscus flower just like Rouge (because I hate you and I want to make you cry, muhwahahahaha).

Also, I really wanted her to have super textured curly hair that licks behind her like flames. I am always considering whether or not a character should have long hair or not because I don’t want it to be a hindrance if they’re in a fight (or if they ARE a fighter with long hair, how to they avoid an enemy making use of that?). Ace is, of course, a Logia-type Devil Fruit User so I think she wouldn’t have trouble with people grabbing it LOL I get the feeling that she doesn’t take very good care of it even though it looks amazing. Like you’d think it would be soft and bouncy just by looking at it but if you ever get the chance to run your fingers through it, it’s a total rat’s nest and there’s sand and food all up in it. She still falls asleep while eating 😂 but she tries her best to only do it around people she can trust (woman moment 😔).

Honestly, her design is not that different from Ace’s canon look. It feels really vital to Ace’s character to have a lot of skin showing. And he’s always hanging all over himself with his hips all cocked like the weight of the world is too much to stand up straight. It is certainly not my OWN preference to make her an absolute smoke show. That’s just the character, okay? (I’m partially lying and the proof is that I turned the emblem on Ace’s hat strap into a sternum tattoo for no other reason than that it is sexy af.)

Here are some closeups of Ace:

Now for Sabo, I’ve made her very girly. I tried putting her in pants or something more militant but she told me that she’d wear the big poofy sleeves and hiked-up ruffled skirt. I think Sabo has always had a strong grasp on his fashion sense and individual flair and I truly believe that his personal style is one of the major influences for the rest of the Revolutionary Army resulting in the very flashy, queer, steampunk aesthetic (aside from Dragon’s plain-ass cloak). So of course I had to implement her nonconformist look when reimagining her as a woman and dress her up to the nines.

I’ve given her very ornate jewelry that is there to tell a story, even if she herself doesn’t know it. I like to think she picks up stuff from her travels that resonate with her, such as a damaged set of earrings with one stone missing or red cup-shaped shells featuring three nestled pearls. Another accessory that cannot go unmentioned is her dragon claw hat pin that keeps her top hat resting on top of her hair (and is definitely used as a weapon when the situation simply doesn’t call for trusty metal pipe). She also has a veil that obscures her prominent facial scar. I imagine she’s not very keen on the reminder of the incident from her childhood that took away her memories. I also kept her chipped toothed because 1) it’s fucking adorable and 2) is a visual reminder that she no longer aligns herself with the nobility who would have gotten such a thing fixed. She is so poised in almost every outward facet of her life from her dignified role as the Chief of Staff to the elegant materials in her clothing that it can be easy to forget she was also a rough and tumble forest dweller. Every time Koala remembers this, he lets out the biggest sigh.

Her hair is inspired by Gibson Girls and Elizabeth Swann from the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie. I wanted it to be fussy and tidy but fall apart when she’s in moments of distress. For example, when she remembers her sisters, her hair starts to look like Ace’s flaming mane. I’m so in love with her, I think she looks like an adorable little porcelain doll that would fuck you up. I made an effort to keep her eyes a little bit manic. I get lost in her steely black orbs (and also Ace’s warm brown ones, but we’re talking about Sabo rn).

Here are her close-ups:

Plot notes for this AU:

For this series of character designs, I wanted the expressions and outfits to be aligned with the canon plot but I don’t know if I have the heart to kill fem!Ace in my AU. I’m too attached and ASL has suffered enough!!!!! But Ace’s death is also a major defining moment for Luffy so it feels disingenuous to completely avoid it. Also a huge aspect of Sabo’s character is carrying on Ace’s will and I have so many thoughts about how the Dressrosa Colosseum scene would play out if they were all women. Oh well, I’ll cross that tragic bridge when I get to it. I’m definitely going to draw some Modern AU Girl Piece ASL though. They deserve to hang out with no stakes 😭 They are sisters!!!

Check out the tag “girl piece” on my blog for my other One Piece genderbends! 🥰

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luveline · 2 months ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬

Aaron sets the record straight when an overheard conversation convinces you that you’re not good enough for him. 5k

c: fem, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive theme (non-graphic implied sex scene). hotch is a good husband. requested here

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Honey, this is Clint McMoore. We went to college together.”

You step into Aaron’s side. Clint McMoore is a handsome older man with silvering hair and a beard that looks out of control. His bowtie is loose around his neck, and his cheeks are blotchy with drink, but Clint smiles at you and offers his hand. “How do you do?” he asks.

“Quite well, thank you.” You’ve been practising fancy dinner talk with Aaron’s friend Emily for weeks. She has all the political background you’d needed to see yourself into the culture. “It’s nice to meet one of Aaron’s school friends.”

“While you still can,” Clint says with a chuckle. Something about being in your forties is obscene to these men, as though death waits for fifty candles to snuff them out.

“Clint and I were in the Student Theatre club together, our first year.”

You grin, smile laced with teasing. Each time you’re reminded of Aaron’s young interest in drama, you have to focus very hard on not laughing; the Aaron who has his hand to your shoulder isn’t one you could envision on stage. “Did you perform together?” you ask.

“Saturday Night Fever,” Clint says.

They laugh and reminisce. You find these sorts of events hard to keep up with, but you come when Aaron asks because he so rarely asks you for anything. He hasn’t mentioned knowing that you don’t like coming, But perhaps he hasn’t noticed —it’s not like you to frown, not when you’re with Aaron. The way he treats you, he probably thinks you’re the happiest girl in the world.

There’s a contentedness to be found when he touches you. He spreads a hand against your lower back and you let yourself sink into his side, curled into his embrace and amazed at the giggly laugh he lets out as Clint brings up the ‘King of the River’ tattoo Aaron has hidden beneath his shirt. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek.

Clint asks, “Isn’t that right?” and forces you back into the conversation.

You’re wearing a dress you panicked over for days. It’s black, cut playfully just above your knees with small petal sleeves. Your necklace is of a delicate chain and a not so delicate pearl —a black Tahitian South Sea pearl that glows pink and green in the light. For you, Aaron wrote, his pretty scrawl inky across a square of scalloped card from atop the box. I’m in love with you. Forgive me for not having the courage to tell you in person.

Your Aaron is quiet. Some days he comes home from work and doesn’t manage more than a sentence. Some days he can barely speak at all. But there are nights when he holds you to hold you and talks in murmurs against your ear, and he’s good at making calls when he’s away. Talking or not, smiling or otherwise, Aaron finds a way to let you know he loves you, and that’s all you care about.

“Excuse us,” Aaron says, giving Clint a rare, warm smile, “I’m being flagged by my boss.”

Sure enough, Erin Strauss is beckoning Aaron with a strange pained look.

“Nice to meet you,” you say quickly to Clint. He repeats your goodbye, and you and Aaron swerve around him.

“He was nice,” you murmur.

“Yeah, he’s okay.”

“How come you fell out of touch?”

“Oh, you know how things go, honey, you forget all the people you meet and make room for new ones.” He kisses your cheek. “And besides, he used to gossip like my mother. Why don’t you go find JJ?”

“You’ll be alright?”

“No, maybe not.” He squeezes your elbow quickly. “Go, find some hors d’oeuvres, at least.”

You find neither JJ nor finger foods. The gala you’re attending is being held in a hotel in the richest part of D.C, and the events hall is huge. The ceiling is a fantasy, glass and miles upward, overhead chandeliers dangling lower, dousing the crowds below in a light that’s clean. The rich and powerful gather at the edges of the room, though the performance toward the back of the room is watched by a few tens of couples with flutes of champagne held in gloved hands.

You hadn’t worn gloves. Hadn’t thought about it until you got here. Honestly, you felt grateful enough that JJ texted you to tell you to buy a shawl; if you weren’t wearing one you’re sure you’d feel bare.

What you’re lacking in fancy is made up for by your earnestness, or so you’d like to believe. You aren’t rich nor powerful, but Aaron’s a good man and you his good wife. You work hard, which is more than some of the richest in the room can say. You hold your head high without a second thought.

The hall is confusing. Tables are set but you aren’t sure Aaron said anything about a dinner service. Wait staff carry silver platters and hold bottles of champagne, but each time you approach one they seem to have already headed in another direction. JJ and Derek are both supposed to be here tonight, but you haven’t seen either of them since you arrived. You cast your gaze for Derek’s figure, searching for an easy gait and a strong set of shoulders. You cock your head waiting for a hint of JJ’s practised, polite laughter, but any familiar signs are gone. You can’t even find Aaron anymore, and your shoes are pinching your toes.

Disaster. You should’ve listened to Aaron when he told you to size up, just you doubted his knowledge of ladies shoes considering how rarely he wears them. Stupid man, you think to yourself, lovingly yet ruefully as you sit down at one of the uninhabited tables to the very side of the room. Knows everything. Tonight, you’ll limp back to the car and he won’t bother saying I told you so, he’s too good for it, which is worse. He’ll give you one of his amused smiles. He might offer you a massage.

Ridiculous man, you further to yourself, biting back a cheesy smile as you peel your shoe from a sore foot. If you shove your hand deep enough into the toe you can stretch them out a little.

“Darling.”

You look up. Clint McMoore’s resurfaced just a table away with his back to you. A sweet-faced woman with brown hair sits adjacent to him, her shoulder under Clint’s hand.

“You’ll never guess who I just bumped into,” he says.

Me, you think.

“Aaron Hotchner and his new wife.”

“You didn’t,” the woman says.

“I knew you’d be envious of that,” he laughs. “Charlotte, she’s unbelievable.”

Your stomach does a strange flip. He’ll say something nice, you insist, but you know his tone is a precursor for gossipy nonsense.

“I’ve never seen such a mismatched pair,” he says.

Charlotte rolls her eyes at him. “Well, what were you expecting? They were married after six months of knowing one another. I couldn’t so much as tolerate you until our first anniversary.”

“Hardy-har.”

“What’s wrong with her, then?” Charlotte asks.

“Nothing like that, Charlotte. She seemed perfectly pleasant–”

“But?”

“But, she’s nothing like Aaron’s usual woman.”

“Hm, I said as much when we saw their wedding photos.“ They both laugh. “It’s not like she had much of a chance. First Haley, and then that Beth, the designer, she’s in Milan now–”

“He seems rather besotted, in any case,” Clint says. “Very lady and the tramp.”

“Gentleman and the tramp.”

“Don’t be cruel, Charlotte.”

You know in a way that Charlotte is kidding, but you boil up with anger the moment you recognise what it is they’re implying. Then they laugh, and your anger quickly finds itself taking a crueller shape.

You slip your foot back into your shoe slowly. Your throat feels dry and then warm, like a crux of smouldering coal stuck in your windpipe as you stand, jerkily, hand stiff where it holds your weight on a silken tablecloth.

You blink and stare at the floor. It’s marble. It’s shot through with dark veins like a drop of ichor in water.

What the fuck?

You aren’t sure why you’re leaving the hall until you’re walking down the steps of the hotel and turning along the skirts of a hedge. A low brick wall lies in front of it, just short enough to sit on with your heels. Your coccyx stings with the force of how hard you go down.

Your head races with hurt feelings.

You’re not unaware of your husband’s past loves. It comes as no surprise to you that people regard Haley and Beth highly —Haley was extremely beautiful and veritably brave, intelligent, kind-hearted. Beth was funny, Aaron said, and not too much else. Being a designer in Milan hasn’t been mentioned before, but it’s impressive. They’re both impressive, and– and his usual woman.

You rub the starchy stockings stretched over your knees.

What had they meant by usual woman?

Mismatched?

It hadn’t felt mismatched when Aaron asked you to marry him. It wasn’t six months after knowing one another as Clint’s wife suggested, but it wasn’t much more than that. He proposed to you after eight months together, and you were married two months later, which is incredibly fast to some people but it just hadn't felt fast when he asked. It was exciting —it still is.

“Would you marry me, if I asked you to?” he’d said, some seven months after you’d agreed to be his girlfriend. Your head in his lap, his fingers rubbing at the soft skin of your nape. A sleepy Sunday morning like any other, you suppose that was a proposal in itself, but you hadn’t realised that when you murmured, “Yeah, handsome. I would.”

You thought it was just love. Making innocuous comments about the future is part of falling in love. It’s terrifying to tell someone that you’d like to live life in their lap, but you tell them, and they tell you to go ahead if you’re lucky.

He asked you to get married a few weeks later. “I had to talk to Jack,” he explained, “or I would’ve asked you then and there.“

You’re a wife suddenly, a step-mother, a partner. Aaron would’ve sold the house and bought you a new one if you wanted him to, but you like his life. You’ve always felt like you fit right in.

Angry again, you scrub at your knees with itchy palms and practise how you’re going to tell Aaron about his cruel friend. Gossipy was right, what a lark, and you’re not perfectly pleasant, you’re a delight, you hadn’t said one bad word to Clint and you didn’t deserve to be whipped and twisted into a bad joke between sips of Cristal.

Your eyes burn with the injustice of the thing.

Rawness overtakes. A thudding in your chest turns painful, neck wrought with tightness as you hang your head. Hiding from the cold air. November brings with it a promise of chapped lips the longer you stay there, biting into your thighs as your hands turn stiff with disuse.

She was unbelievable.

“Y/N!” The shout is sharp. You’ve never heard Aaron’s voice at that level or with that level of formidability, carrying from the bottom of the hotel stairs. You twist in shock on the wall and watch in real time as his face fills with relief. “Honey,” he says, calling but not half as scary as he jogs to you, “are you alright?”

“What?”

“You scared me,” he insists, bending down to hold your shoulders. “Nobody’s seen you for the last fifteen minutes, sweetheart, we talked about this. You can’t just disappear, you left your purse on the table, I thought something happened to you.”

You startle at his scolding. “I–”

“You should feel my heart.”

“I didn’t mean to come out here.”

“I wish you would’ve let somebody know,” he says. His frown softens slowly, but the concern around his eyes remains. “What?” he asks.

“Sorry.”

His eyes finally soften. “No, I’m sorry. It’s alright, I just worry when you’re not with me.”

“That’s romantic.”

He holds your cheek, pulling you in, and gives you two gentle kisses. Your lips part instinctively to receive them. “We’ll get our things and go home. It looks as though dinner isn’t happening.” He smiles. “Why were you out here?”

“Scavenging for food.”

That gets a laugh out of him, and another nice kiss. “You tried your best.”

—

Aaron takes you home, and when dinner’s been cleared away, when you’ve showered and he’s undressed, he pulls you toward the bed and kisses you warmly. His eyes track from your face to the tucked corner of your towel, a silent Can I?

You let him take it off. He lays you out, and for a while you’re only his. His wife, his half, his to tease and turn and delight. He says “Beautiful,” against your thigh, says, “Honey, is that okay?” says, “Please, I’ve got it, I have you, just let me have you…”

After, he tells you he loves you, his voice still ever so slightly high in contrast to usual dulcet tones.

“I love you, too,” you say.

His breath comes fast. Your lap is a mess he’d wiped as clean as he could manage, the memory of him bearing down on you yet to fade. He lies on his stomach beside you with his arm over yours, his face turned into you, his nose on your cheek.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. “You feel tense.”

“Mm.”

“No, did I hurt you? You’re rigid.” His hands fret a line down the side of your chest. “You didn’t…”

You hadn’t said anything, because he really hadn’t hurt you. But the thoughts you’re having now are intrusive —am I okay? you think. Do I measure up? He’s never made any indication that you’ve let him down, not in sex or anything else, but you’re unbelievable.

You swallow a lump. “Sorry,” you say, the lingering ebbs of pleasure twisting into tears faster than you can stop it.

“Are you crying?” he asks under his breath.

You suck in a breath as he pushes onto his hands.

“These aren’t good tears,” he says.

He’d know. They’re not.

Aaron reaches over you to turn on the lamp on the nightstand before settling, his hand cupping your waist. It’s too much suddenly, too bare, he’s too much to look at as you squeeze your eyes closed. “Sorry,” you squeeze out.

“What did I do?” he asks, holding you carefully. “Please, sweetheart, what’s hurting? I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not you.”

“But something does hurt?”

“No, no, I’m okay.” You cover your face with your hands. When you start to sob, it shakes the entire mattress, Aaron’s hand wobbling where it cups your ribs.

“Please.” His thumb works a soft spot into your skin. “Honey, please, you can’t cry now without telling me what’s wrong.” He tries a laugh, but it falls flat. “Honey. Honey.”

It wasn’t the sex. He never does anything wrong, he’s so gentle even when he isn’t, and if he did you’d only have to tell him, but the rush of being touched by him so nicely, fuck, the way he’d been looking at you, the way he took your face into his hand as he moved —you’re not trying to be a crier, but he makes you feel like you’re everything and you’re just not.

He looks sick.

“It wasn’t you, it was at the gala,” you manage.

For a long while after, you can’t get a word out. You shiver and sob as Aaron scoops you into his chest, his nose in your shoulder waiting for you to calm down. He rubs your waist, fingers parted and waving slowly as he shushes you. Not to make you stop, though. He’s reassuring.

“What happened at the gala?” he asks quietly.

“It’s so stupid.”

“No, it’s alright. Can you tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?”

You wrap your arms around his head. It really is stupid, you feel smaller than an ant under the shadow of a giant heel. Aaron doesn’t waver when you struggle to answer, feeling around behind you for a pillow and helping you against it. He kisses your forehead. “Let me get you something to wear.”

You catch his wrist. “It wasn’t you, wasn’t–” You lift your chin.

He kisses you. “Okay,” he says simply. “Let’s get dressed.”

He dresses quickly, bringing you underwear and one of your sleep shirts, a loose fit. You shuffle into them and watch him patiently as he cleans the small mess of the evening away. You’re sniffling softly when he returns to you, sitting with his back to your thighs.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry if I read things wrong. I never would’ve initiated anything if I knew you were feeling like this.”

You laugh weakly, worriedly, looking at him through your lashes. “It made me feel better,” you admit.

“If this is better, you must’ve been feeling awful.”

You relax as he puts his hand on your thigh.

“In the time I left you to talk to Strauss, something upset you. JJ and Morgan didn’t see you. So someone in the gala said something or did something that made you leave. If you tell me who it was, I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“You’re trying to bargain with me,” you mumble.

“I’m just telling you what can be done. I can take care of things.”

“It’s nothing… nothing so severe. You’ll wonder why I–” You give an unexpected sob. “Made all this fuss.”

“I don’t think I’ll wonder,” he says.

You laugh through tears. These ones are slow, your eyes already itchy from crying.

“Please tell me.” He tries teasing instead of sternness, lowering his face to yours. “Or I’ll cry too.”

“Aaron.”

“I will. You think I can’t, but seeing you crying like this, it’s more than enough ammunition.”

You let out a breath, admitting defeat. “Your friend, Clint? I overheard him with his wife. He didn’t have very nice things to say about me.”

“What could he possibly have to say?” Aaron asks with a frown.

You pull the sheets up your legs. “He said I’m… unbelievable, and I don’t think he meant it kindly. Said that I’m not your type, and that I… I had no chance of measuring up, because of who you’ve been with before. They were laughing about our wedding photos.” Your throat feels pressed into by a hot poker. “They said we were the gentleman and the tramp.”

His eyes squint. He looks disgusted, and for an uncomfortable moment you feel like it might be directed at you, but then he scoffs. “What a crock of shit.”

“Aaron!” you laugh.

“What could Clint McMoore possibly know about marriage? This is his fourth wife. And to imply that you’re any sort of calibre below the women I’ve dated before isn’t just misogynistic nonsense, it’s not true. You are the most beautiful women I’ve ever met, and what’s that supposed to mean, gentlemen and the tramp?” He gives you such an earnest glare of confusion that you can’t for a second doubt what it is he’s saying. “I’m sorry, honey, I think he’s allowed himself a few too many nightcaps over the years. Perhaps he’s suffered a stroke.”

“Aaron, don’t say that,” you chide, secretly very pleased.

“Our wedding photos,” he says, his hand drifting further down your leg to rest just shy of somewhere more intimate, “are beautiful. You look beautiful. Clint would’ve writhed in jealousy in the pews if he’d been invited, because he would’ve seen it for himself.”

“I just sat there while they laughed at me,” you mumble.

“What were you supposed to do?” His hand travels out, to your hip, and then he holds you by the waist with both of his hands. They have a way of making you feel encapsulated, big and strong and careful on the bump of your hips.

“I don’t know.”

“Nothing,” he says, meeting your eyes with his usual tender-hearted compassion. “You weren’t supposed to do or say anything.” Aaron appears younger than he is for a second, his eyebrows raised, eyes big and brown as they track over your lips. “Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise he was like that. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“I guess I’m just worried he’s right.”

“He’s not right. You are everything to me.” Again, he puts weight on the word, roughly said, like it takes a lot from him to say it. “I’m lucky to have been with women who were beautiful, and intelligent, but if there’s a question of you measuring up, there’s no competition. I’ve never been this in love.”

You take a shaky breath. “Never?” you ask.

He holds your gaze. “I knew it when we met. That's why I couldn’t wait to ask you to marry me.”

“You said you weren’t getting any younger.”

“Well, I’m not, but not everything’s about my age, you know,” he says, giving your waist a playful squeeze.

”You said it.”

“I did. That felt easier to say than, if I don’t marry you soon I might implode,” —he shuffles forward, encroaching on your legs and pressing his lips to your cheek— “would’ve just,” —he kisses your cheek, before turning your head— “wasted all that time waiting for someone else’s idea of the right time,” —and he kisses the other cheek, his nose skirting up your face— “wishing I was your husband when I could just,” —he smiles into your eyebrow as his hand slips under your shirt, holding your bare back— “ask.”

“I’m glad you asked me.”

You’d cried then, too, but it was less to do with a rush of adrenaline that knocked you out of balance and more to do with how lovingly he’d taken your hand as he asked. You knew from that moment on that someone was going to take care of you for the rest of your life. He’s doing it right now.

“I love you,” you say, forcing your arms over his shoulders.

He pulls you in so much that you lift from the mattress.

“I love you. Are you sure it wasn’t me that upset you? I have to check.”

“No. What you did to me wasn’t particularly upsetting.”

He laughs. “Are you sure? You can look a little teary–”

You shush him quickly.

He tips your head to the side to kiss your ear. “Maybe next time, you can tell me about whatever upset you beforehand.”

“And you can make me feel even better.”

His laugh is nearly inaudible, but his lips are by the side of your head. You hear it, the warmth of his breath kissing the shell of your ear.

—

Aaron likes to see you in your sweatpants. You look nice in everything, especially your dresses for the evening events he often drags you to, but he likes it when you wear sweatpants because it opens a window. You’ve purchased the wrong size, too big and too long, but you’ve tied them at the waist and you make do. You’re wearing the big shirt he helped you into the night before, sitting on the couch with your ferried breakfast.

The night before has been washed away, no sign of tears or upset. You have a clean, bright face, one he’d quite like to kiss, or hold, or have pressed to his neck, but none of this is unusual. Your eyes look sore, if he really looks. He’ll make you a compress after breakfast.

Dropped off by Jess an hour ago, Jack sits beside you picking at the breakfast tray. You’re sharing a plate. You don’t ever mind.

“Are you eating that one?” you ask.

Jack immediately nudges half of a chocolate chip pancake your way. “Was the gala fun?”

“Uh, sure. Saw your dad’s friends. But they had a weird thing with the caterers and we had to get dinner on the way home.”

“You could’ve made dad cook.”

“I guess, but we were tired. What did you have for dinner?”

“Jess made spicy chicken. It was amazing.” Jack squints at you. “Your eyes are puffy, Y/N. Are you sick?”

“I think I might be a little. Not enough to make you sick too, don’t worry.”

Aaron piles the last of the pancakes onto a plate and carries them to you in the living room. “Here, you two.”

“Did you eat?” you ask.

He loves you, bending over to kiss your forehead right in the middle. “Yes.”

“How come they didn’t have dinner at the gala, dad? I thought that was the whole point,” Jack says.

He sits down next to Jack on the couch. You cut a big square of pancake and grin at him, seemingly pleased with your breakfast and Jack’s sense of humour.

“It was a disaster, that’s all. No food, barely any wine, and terrible, awful company.”

“I thought Miss Jareau went?”

“She did. But besides her and a handful of others, it was a party for sad old people.”

“And you didn’t have fun?” Jack asks.

You laugh so hard tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Aaron cups Jack’s shoulder, surprised when his son doesn’t duck away from the touch. The older he gets the less affection he requires, so it’s nice for Aaron to hug him sideways and be allowed, better that you finish your choking laugh with a hug of your own. “Jack, thank you for that. I think you cured whatever illness I had,” you say.

“Hey,” Aaron says.

You run your hand up his neck. Your wedding ring catches against his jaw.

“It was worth going, though, to see your step-mom in her nice dress,” Aaron says, peeling away from Jack so he has room to breathe.

Jack turns to you, and his smile is audible, “Do you have any pictures?”

“I didn’t take any, sorry.”

“Just think of her now but in a dress, and that’s how beautiful she looked,” Aaron says.

“Dad, don’t be gross,” Jack says, cutting into the pancakes with his fork.

“It’s not gross, it’s just a fact.” Jack drops pancake down his front. Warm chocolate chips stain his t-shirt. “Missed your mouth, bud. I’ll get a rag.”

He’s up as quickly as he sat down, running his fingers along your arm and to the palm of your hand, touching you until he can’t. He heads back into the kitchen. His phone is beeping on the table, screen flashing with each new text.

Penelope: boss, I think the thing you asked for is illegal

Penelope: also, I assume you were kidding?

Penelope: so while making it that every link on McMoore’s computer freezes the desktop would’ve been very very funny, I didn’t do that

Aaron had been kidding, emphatically, because illegal activities aren’t his style. It was a sarcastic suggestion, and yet he’s disappointed nonetheless.

Penelope: I just signed him up for a bunch of recovering narcissists forums and an email subscription for self help, and maybe also a free online class about manners and etiquette

Penelope: And I ordered that big canvas for you. It was the one of you guys cutting the cake, right?

Aaron texts her back quickly: Thank you, Penelope. I couldn’t work out the dimensions online.

Penelope: You’re welcome! I live to serve :D

The canvas will look good in the entryway, Aaron believes. Somewhere you can see it, and remember exactly what it is he thinks of you; his eyes glowing with love where he’d been staring at your face, his hand guided yours atop the knife as he traced your features, and you cut that first, fat slice of cake.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

thanks so much for reading! please think about commenting, liking or reblogging if you enjoyed I love knowing what you think!❤️

also small note: this fic is in no way meant to diminish haley im a haley supporter usually (these days at least!) and I just didn’t mention her for brevity’s sake

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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hannieehaee · 3 months ago

Text

BOY WITH LUV

18+ / mdi

summary: a new job as a barista should be easy enough, right? except it gets a whole lot more complicated when the coffee shop's most loved client just decides he has to have you OR richboy!jk falls for barista!reader and refuses to give up.

content: richboy!jk, downbad!jk, barista!reader, sub-ish!jk, reader plays hard to get just for plot purposes, jk is down horribly bad for reader, afab reader, smut, dry humping, jk's the embodiment of needy, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 8.8k

a/n: another silly and unserious jungkook fanfic<3

masterlist | patreon

"Anyways just be careful with how many pumps you add to drinks. Customers can be extremely sensitive about that kind of stuff. Trust me," rambled on your new trainer, Jen? Jess? Something like that.

You watched disinterested, already having had a menial barista job in the past and being well aware of the high expectations of disgruntled customers. You, too, had been verbally harassed by one too many people in dire need of a drink far too specific for the average person to memorize. It was still appreciated, though, the effort she took in walking you through every step to ensure you did good at your new position.

Despite your focus on the task being demonstrated to you not being at its best, you did take notice when Jean(?) stopped her mentoring and instead spilled some of the drink she was currently making, clearly now equally as distracted as you. Her focus was no longer on the counter you were practicing drinks on, but instead looking past you and towards the counter a few steps behind you.

You meant to call out her name to question her, but without an angle on her name tag or any confidence in actually remembering the correct name, you simply grabbed at a nearby towel and cleaned off the mess, not bothering to look at whatever was distracting her. It was too early for you to bother.

Snapping out of her trance mere seconds later, she tapped at your shoulder urgently, her voice now a whisper as she leaned close for you to hear what she was about to say.

"Oh my God, don't look, but that's Jungkook," she whispered excitedly, as if letting you in on information you had any context about — hint: you had no idea who nor what she was referring to.

Turning around, you eyed another one of your new coworkers tending to the line at the counter, but more specifically helping out some guy. Focusing your eyes on him, you could now understand why his presence had caused a short-circuit in Jane (?) and why she felt the need to announce his presence to you.

The distraction in question presented itself in the form of a very tall and fit guy, one with a fully tattooed sleeve and dreamy black curls. Other outstanding attributes were the very obvious muscles encompassing his entire body and the shine that came from the various piercings on his face. In short, the man was nothing short of a dream straight from a Pinterest board — and the charisma radiating from his mere presence did not help matters.

"He's a regular. No one really knows much about him other than he's rich. He tips like 200% above his total," continued June, still leaning in your direction to whisper.

You felt bad at how obvious you were whilst staring at the boy, but he was likely the prettiest one you'd seen in a while. The blank expression in your stare did not tell on you, but it did not deny the fact that you were staring.

"We take turns serving him," your coworker informed you, "Sometimes we fight over it. He's a natural flirt, but he does it with everyone, so we're not sure if he's taken or not," she proceeded to tell you benign details about him that had you nodding along as you continued to stare at him.

The usually fast-paced place seemed to slow down when he entered the coffee shop, with most baristas' attentions going to him rather than their jobs. If he was aware of it, he was good at ignoring it, instead giving a flashy smile to the lucky barista currently tending to him. From the short distance between you, you were unable to hear his conversation, but you still had a perfect view of him as he simply existed. He could easily see you, as there was nothing in his way, but he hadn't yet, somehow oblivious to the attention he was receiving from all other baristas in the house.

As time stood still for everyone else, it continued normally for him. He paid for his drink, having it quickly bypass all other prior orders and made immediately by one of the many girls fawning at him. God, even the two baristas working the drive-thru had taken a short break from it go gawk.

It wasn't until moments later that Jungkook seemed to get a taste of his own medicine, with his own time suddenly coming to a halt. As he turned around to leave, sweet drink now in hand, his eyes incidentally met yours, causing him to pause mid turn and do a double take in order to catch your eyes again.

It was ridiculous, really. Almost too identical to those moments you'd see in those dumb romcoms you used to enjoy as a teenager. Except this was actually happening. And it was happening to you. As all your new coworkers watched his every move with extreme attention.

His eyes widened a bit. It was something the naked eye might've missed, but not you (nor the other five girls watching). His head tilted a bit to the side — maybe in curiosity due to not having seen you there before (Joanne did mention he was a regular). A ghost of a smirk took over the natural smile that had been on his lips since arrival. And lastly, a nod was sent your way — a nod in acknowledgment to your presence, but also with a flirtatious hint to it. It was hard to describe. You simply had to be there.

You remained watching him with a poker face throughout. The same poker face you'd had since clocking in to work that morning. It wasn't that you were mean or not a people person, you simply hated work. You'd been told you had a bit of a resting bitch face and gave a mean impression to those who didn't know you, but that was beside the point. The pretty boy whose attention you'd caught had gotten lucky, though, as he at least received the ghost of a smile from you before he left.

The first thing to occur upon his departure was a squeal from your left. The perpetrator? Julie (or whatever her name was).

"Oh my god!," she let out, grabbing onto your shoulder so you'd face her, "Did you see that?"

"See what?", you asked, not 100% sure of what had just happened.

"He totally checked you out . He's never done that before. Maybe he likes you? God, don't let Lila find out, she's got a huge crush on him," she informed you, once again assuming you knew who the hell Lila was.

"Hah, I think he might've just been surprised to see a new face," you downplayed, "What were you explaining before he got here? The thing with the pumps and the-"

"He comes here every morning at 8 or so. How about you take his order tomorrow? Y'know, just to test my theory," she suggested, disregarding your question.

"Orders? It's my first day here. Isn't training like two weeks lon-"

"It's fine! I'll be shadowing you. You'll do great! Now let's get back to your training-"

"Jane! I need more change at drive thru!", called one of the drive thru girls, interrupting your conversation.

"Coming, Lila!", she responded, giving you a polite smile before handing you the shaker she had just been holding, "Just practice some drinks how I taught you. I'll be right back to show you how to work the register."

So her name was Jane. And that was Lila.

At least you learned something today.

The subject of Jungkook stayed for a while after he left.

As you got to know a few of your other coworkers during your shift, you came to learn more useless details about him. Useless due to the fact that none of your coworkers had ever actually had a real conversation with him. It appeared as if he was always in a rush any time he stopped by. This bit of knowledge made it even more scandalous among your coworkers that Jungkook had stopped to blatantly check you out before continuing with his busy day.

And so the next day, you were admittedly a bit nervous when they'd suddenly prepped you for cashier duties only one day on the job. You'd done this before, but it was always slightly nerve wracking working a new cash register system and dealing with an entirely different hurdle of customers. That and the fact that you knew all your coworkers were awaiting the moment in which Jungkook came back, only this time he'd get a one-on-one with you.

For one, you didn't believe the suspicion that he liked you.

It was impossible to assert that from the simple one-over he'd given you. But then again, you didn't know the guy as well as your coworkers claimed to.

It was at 8:17AM that the theory was finally tested, when a certain heartthrob walked through the glass doors with all the charismatic energy a person could possibly carry.

He looked as handsome as he did the day prior, especially because now you had a beeline view of him, simply waiting for his arrival on the other side of the counter. His hair was wavier today somehow, and he donned a tight short-sleeve that gave you the perfect view of a sleeve full of colorful tattoos — fuck. His jeans were loose but still gave you a nice view of his physique. It was easy to tell the man was ripped to hell, yet another probable reason as to why your coworkers were all in love with him. Chunky shoes and shiny piercings accessorized his outfit, bringing an edge of grunginess you typically enjoyed in guys.

All things considered, he seemed just like your type.

However, the concept of even crushing on a guy that had every other girl at his feet sounded far too exhausting. You were just not into the idea of chasing after a guy who had a line of women waiting for their turn (or just chasing any guy in general). Today you'd simply serve his drink to prove a point and put an end to any possibility of even a mere flirtation with Jungkook before it even began.

Somehow, he hadn't taken note of you until reaching the cash register, too distracted by his phone as he made what was likely a familiar path for him — he was a regular, after all.

When he reached you, finally putting his phone away, he reacted similarly to last time, doing a double take before letting his eyes land on you for a more permanent stay. His mouth opened and closed a few times, hands reaching up as if undecided on what to entertain themselves with and remaining awkwardly on the air. A gulp took over his voice before he shook his head slightly to clear his head.

"Hi," he began, "You're new."

"Hi, yeah. What can I get for you today?," you got straight to the point.

As flattering as his reaction to you was, a line would probably form any minute now, and you'd already been thrown to the wolves, so you needed to move things along. There's never any time to waste in customer service.

"Oh, uh, the other baristas know my usual — but, uh you're new, like you just said, so, it's uhm just an americano. Medium, please," he rambled, not smooth like you'd expected someone as handsome and put together to be.

Your chuckle couldn't be helped, but at least it wasn't the girlish giggle you truly felt like letting out in the presence of such a man, "Yeah, okay. That'll be $4.95. Anything else?"

He stared at you blankly for a few moments, two silent blinks trapping his large eyes before clearing his throat, causing you to look up from the cash register to give him a curious look, hoping that was enough of a silent indicator at him to speak up.

"Your number, maybe?"

Admittedly, this caught you off guard.

You were surprised at the swift shift in confidence in Jungkook. Literal moments ago he was stammering his way through a sentence, yet the second time you looked up from the cash register he began to sport a cocky smile, confidently leaning against the counter separating you.

"God, you're gorgeous," he then added, eyes moony as he stared at you. It was said with a clear lack of thoughts in his brain, though also with an air of confidence, almost as if he were stating an irrefutable fact.

"Uhm, thanks," you mumbled, taking the money he was currently handing you with an awkward smile, "Okay, got a $5," you recited the usual cashier dialogue as you dug into the register for his change, "Here's your change. Your drink will be ready in a few minutes."

He took it, eyes still glued to yours with a dreamy smile on his face. Tilting his head to the side, his smile widened, "So, no number?", he asked with a teasing tone.

"Sorry, not allowed to give it to customers," you lied, "What's your name? Need it for the order," you asked despite already knowing his name. Disclosing this information would've only made him more adamant in asking for your information.

"That's a lie. Most of your coworkers have slipped me their numbers before," he called you out nonchalantly before giving you his name without any further argument, "What's your name? You don't have a name tag on," he seemed very okay with continuing with the small talk as much as possible, ignoring how your eyes looked past him to eye the line that had began forming.

You sighed, noting how settled he was on his spot, with his arms now leaning comfortably on the counter. He was clearly not going to leave with at least something from you.

You gave him your name, adding reluctance to your tone, attempting to send a message of disinterest.

Lifting his hand, he reached to yours which was currently lying on top of the screen of the cash register, softly grabbing its limp form to offer you a handshake. You did not grasp his hand in yours in return, making the handshake one-sided.

"Very nice meeting you. You'll be seeing me very often, gorgeous," he winked, dropping a bill way too high for a $4.99 order into the small tips cup on the counter and finally walking away as suave as humanly possible.

Internally, you groaned, knowing this was going to be the topic of conversation as soon as you clocked out for your break.

As expected, a few of your coworkers squealed at you immediately after Jungkook's departure, rambling about how clear it was that he was into you. And yes, that much was obvious — especially considering the large $20 tip he'd left you for merely taking his order. It was difficult to not give into their encouragement to ask him out or to at least respond to his advancements next time.

Most of your coworkers expressed happiness for you, simply enjoying the sight of the pretty boy coming around on a daily basis, while one or two seemed to grow an immediate dislike for you upon his sudden interest in you. Regardless, you wished to steer clear of any emotions his crush on you could bring. All you wanted out of this job was to clock in and clock out and call it a day.

The next time you saw him was two days later when you were finally scheduled to work again. Once more, you found yourself at the cashier once again. Despite it being your first week, your trainer had decided that you seemed apt for the task after the test trial with Jungkook a few days prior, so cashier duties were now assigned to you.

You didn't mind this. It was a straight forward task and far more preferable to drive-thru or clean up duty. However, you couldn't lie in saying you weren't a little on edge at the thought of interacting with Jungkook again. So maybe you spent an extra five minutes this morning on your makeup, so what?

You spent most of your morning taking orders for the early risers that frequented the store. They were all pretty nice, likely too tired at such an early hour to trouble the baristas in charge of their morning dosage of caffeine.

"Hey, gorgeous," were the words that took you out of your thoughts, calling your attention to the boy you'd been subconsciously thinking about all morning.

"Hello, Jungkook. What can I help you with?", you readied yourself to enter his drink on the register.

"What, don't remember my order? Missed you the past few days, by the way. Where'd you go?", he pouted.

"Sorry, not good at memorizing customers' orders, you're going to have to remind me. And I was off this weekend," you were straight forward in your responses.

Similarly to last time, he leaned on the counter, diminishing the distance between you as much as possible before speaking again, a smirk still present on his face.

"That's no problem, gorgeous, I'll remind you every day. Any chance you're nearing your break any time soon?", he questioned with confidence, repeating his order afterwards for you to type into the system.

You sighed, interrupting your work to respond, "No, I-"

"Actually, yes!", interrupted a sudden third voice.

You turned your head to the side to look at the intruder. It was Jane, of course.

"She's been working all morning. She's due for her 15," she let out, pushing you away from the cash register to take your place, "I'll work your order for her," she insisted.

"Great," Jungkook smiled at you in triumph, "In that case, throw in some cake pops in for my new friend," he went to take out some cash, handing what was likely too much to Jane and insisting she keep the change.

Turning his eyes back for you, he nodded in his direction as a silent request that you round the counter and head over to his side. Jane somehow completed his order in artful speed and handed it over to you with a wink before nudging you to encourage you to go. With a slight scowl, you did as suggested, handing Jungkook his drink and cake pops before he gave one back for you.

He began walking over to an empty counter, leaning against it and inviting you to do the same. Very casually, he drank from his drink and took a bite from his cake pop as he offered the other one out to you, chuckling when you grabbed it with reluctance.

"C'mon don't act like I got you hostage."

"You kinda do. My break wasn't until another twenty minutes. This just means I'll have to stay another half an hour," you quipped, more contrarian than anything.

He liked this, it seemed, indicating his amusement with another chuckle. It was probably not usual for him be met with much resistance to his flirting. And it wasn't as if it didn't work on you (it did). You were just not very willing to focus on it over your job — as menial as it was.

"I'll cover your overtime, gorgeous, don't worry about that," he smirked, "What time does your shift end anyway?"

"Hah, wouldn't you like to know?", you laughed antagonistically, continuing to nab at the sweet treat he'd given you.

Taking a step forward, he got up in your personal space. It wasn't an intimate type of closeness, but rather a standoffish one. He was challenging your own defiance against his flirting.

"You are aware I'm flirting with you, right?"

"Very."

Another amused chuckle left him, "How many visits is it gonna take me for you to reciprocate?", he asked, "Fine, maybe being so forward after my second visit was a bit too much, but I'm willing to play the long game if you are."

You listened to him with the ghost of a pleased smile on your face. Fine, maybe he was attractive and likable too. You weren't about to shut him down so easily. Maybe the long game sounded good to you too.

Taking the rest of your cake pop into your mouth with one swoop, you gnawed at the leftover candy on the stick, sucking at it with a pop before eyeing him again and nodding at him.

"You're more than welcome to, Jungkook."

He nodded back, "Them I guess I'll be seeing you here tomorrow ..." he paused with a lift of his eyebrow, a silent question for your name and groaning when you continued to grin silently, "Come on! At least give me your name!"

The giggle left you before you could stop it, continuing to sound out your name to him as a sign of peace.

"Pretty name," he murmured to himself, "Same time tomorrow?", he asked before turning to leave.

"I'll be waiting."

In the following two weeks of working as many hours as possible at your new job, you were finally no longer in your training period. You were now considered as useful an employee as Jane and Lila, meaning you got your name tag and could now comfortably settle into your cashier position.

In these two weeks, you also saw Jungkook almost every day (sans those in which you were off).

It got to a point in which Jungkook would occasionally stop by a second time in the afternoon in search of a peek of you, usually proving unsuccessful, but still trying anyways.

As summer time ended, the mornings became more packed, meaning yours and Jungkook's encounters diminished in time due to the peak of clients in the mornings. Jungkook was not shy in expressing his disappointment at this, always giving you eyes to attempt to get you to stall on his orders so he could spend a little extra time at the counter with you, or even attempting to bribe you with tips so you'd give him your number (something which had almost worked a few times).

Now, an entire month into your job, it was safe to say that Jungkook's crush was more than mutual by this point (though it really always was).

Unfortunately, your back and forth was so limited that you were yet to really find out anything about the guy other than his first name. Apart from having a vague idea of his wealth, you didn't know any basic details such as his age, profession or even his last name.

To be fair, you had never attempted to learn more about him, but this was partially due to your belief that he must've just enjoyed your casual flirtation. Likely, he liked your hard-to-get personality and enjoyed attempting to break you down. He had never actually asked you out past that first time he invaded your break, after all.

Up until today, that is.

"Please let me steal you away for your break," were the first words the boy had spoken to you when he'd finally caught you at the cash register after days of missing you altogether, "Or! I can wait until you get off. I'm finally off work for a few days. Please don't make me beg. I will do it, but it won't be pretty for anyone."

You sighed, fake annoyed at the gigantic pout on his face, "You've seen me almost every other day," you started, only to be interrupted by him.

"But you're always busy! God, why do so many people need coffee anyways?"

"Ask yourself. You're a frequent client here."

"Yeah, but that's different! I don't even come here for the coffee anymore. It's too packed," he continued, peeking behind him for a moment to make sure he wasn't holding up a line.

"Really?", you decided to play with him, "Why do you come, then?"

He leaned in closer to the counter separating you, grin copying your own satisfied one, "You know, the least you could do is acknowledge my flirting. It'd be really mean if you didn't."

"Fine," you gave in, "I work a full day today, but my lunch is in twenty minutes. Now order before my manager scolds me for letting you loiter."

He scoffed, "All your coworkers love me, that could never happen. But fine. I'll have my usual," he conceded, "I'll be waiting for you over at a table outside. If you don't come, I'll become even more of a nuance," he threatened jokingly as you processed his order, taking his payment and handing him a receipt with a reluctant nod in agreement.

"Okay, leave!", you couldn't help but berate him as you handed him his drink — which, hard to admit, you knew by heart.

With another chuckle in your direction, he made a face at you and made his way out, making sure to leave a far too large tip before exiting.

The twenty minutes before your lunch were spent boringly to say the least. Not many customers were around at that time of day, so you spent most of your time lounging around the small bar and restocking any lids or cups you felt were low enough to be refurbished. Contrary to how you'd previously expressed yourself, you were actually looking forward to getting to hang with Jungkook.

He was fun, what could you say?

Just a few minutes before your lunch break actually began, a subtle knocking sound caught your attention, causing you to focus your view on one of the many windows in the shop. Looking in that direction, you caught a smiley Jungkook attempting to grab your attention, waving cutely when you finally noticed him.

"Are you done?", he mouthed through the window, hands making a 'come hither' motion to entice you into coming out, eyebrows lifted in anticipation.

It got increasingly difficult to hold back a smile any time Jungkook would do something unknowingly cute, but you still managed.

You looked at the clock hanging on the wall, noting you had two minutes until your break. Looking back and forth between the empty coffee shop and Jungkook fawning at you from the window, you made a decision. What were two minutes, anyways?

Shrugging, you gave him a small smile, you began heading outside after clocking out of your register, having to force back a giggle at how much bigger his own smile got at your reciprocation.

"Was that a smile I saw?", he grinned when you finally made it outside.

You rolled your eyes, though the ghost of a smile didn't leave you.

"Shut up. You got me for thirty minutes, don't waste it."

You walked side by side up until the table Jungkook had been sitting at, not taking a seat but standing next to it.

"Do I have permission to take you out?", he tried, biting his lip in hopeful anticipation.

Pretending to mull over it for a moment, you crossed your arms and pursed your lips, hmm'ing at the proposal.

"C'mon! You know I like you. All your coworkers know I like you. And, y'know what? I think you like me back- Okay, wait, don't give me that look. Fine, you at least tolerate me."

"And?"

"See! You didn't deny it. That's a step in the right direction. Let me take you out. Please? I'm not in this just for the chase, if that's what you're thinking," he practically pleaded, looking down at you with those gigantic eyes you were unsure if you were truly immune to.

"Then why me?", you asked, truly unsure.

"I don't know," he began, "Call it love at first sight, I guess? Do I need a reason to like you? There's too many. I like everything I've known about you," he finished with sincerity in his eyes.

But you couldn't really buy it so easily.

"Jungkook, you don't even know me."

"But I want to! That's the whole point of dating. C'mon, I won't get in the way of your job. I'll even take you out somewhere fancy. I know you like pastries, I always see you go for the sweet drinks rather than the coffees, and you always pair them with a cake pop. See? I know as much about you as you've allowed me to know," he braved it and stepped closer, grabbing onto your hand tentatively, "So, please?"

You huffed, looking down before looking back at him, attempting to force the endeared smile out of your face.

"Fine. You can take me out. But not right now. If you want to take me out, you have to wow me. A measly thirty minutes in my work apron is not enough."

He took a few moments to wipe the huge smile off his face before responding, clearing his throat before doing so.

"Completely valid. Give me your number so you can text me your address and any time you'll be free for me to wow you," he handed you his phone, taking yours in exchange.

"Really? Any time?", you asked as you absentmindedly added your contact info to his phone, "Don't you have a job or something?"

"Huh, now who's the one who wants to get to know me?", he smirked lightheartedly, "That's for you to find out at our date," he went to hand your phone back, "Now, if I'm not mistaken, I still have an allotted seventeen minutes to spend with you."

In usual Jungkook fashion, he insisted on buying you something to eat from your own establishment, huffing at any suggestion for you to use your employee benefits and leaving a large tip as per usual. Whatever was his job, it must've left him more than satisfied. It made you curious, though his personality was even more intriguing. Against how you may have presented your lack of enthusiasm, you were quite excited for your upcoming date.

The next time you saw Jungkook, you got a very clear idea of what his job must be. Or at least of which tax bracket he sat comfortably at.

You weren't sure what model of car sat in front of your apartment at this moment, but you were sure it was worth beyond the money you'd see in this lifetime. There was also no doubt it belonged to Jungkook. The personalized JK1997 license plate was good enough indicator of its owner.

After giving Jungkook your number, you became victim to a myriad of messages from him from that moment on. Not only did he make plans for your date, but he also took advantage of how easily reachable you had become and chose to display his affection for you in the form of endless messages.

You couldn't lie to yourself, it was fun to have a guy so deeply interested despite your constant indifference towards him, specially if it was a guy that looked like Jungkook.

His messages varied from flirtatious to friendly to downright thirsty — there had been an instance of him sending you a picture of him at the gym, one which you shamelessly saved to your camera roll. You'd tease him about sending pictures back, but the most you ever gave him were selfies (to which he responded with threads of heart eyes).

Your date had been planned almost immediately. Jungkook, claiming himself a romantic, insisted on not telling you his plans, but did recommend you wear a pretty dress and some cute heels. He ached to see you all dolled up for him (his exact words).

Part of you wanted to be a brat (as he seemed to enjoy) and deny him of this pleasure. But a bigger part of you as tired of rejecting him and wanted to break him in different ways. And so you dressed up. You pulled out the dress you thought would wear him down the quickest, dolling yourself up to the best of your abilities and even donning the cutest pair of heels you could find.

The fruits of your labor manifested themselves in the form of a practically drooling Jungkook standing in front of your apartment door, stammering a greeting to you as his eyes went up and down your body multiple times, taking various stops at the parts he likely deemed his favorites.

He led you downstairs by your hand, groaning out loud at your perfume as he complimented it, claiming you must've wanted him dead before he even got to take you on your date. Maybe he was half right about that.

Once downstairs, he played dumb when you gaped at his expensive car, simply claiming that you deserved nothing but the best and opening the passenger door to you with a kiss to the pack of your hand.

His hand remained on your thigh the entire way over, nimble fingers occasionally tracing t the skin or sometimes even squeezing at the plushiness of it. You smiled in satisfaction at how blatant he was about wanting you. He'd always been loud and proud about it, but the reactions he was giving you tonight inflated your ego tenfold.

The restaurant was, once again, another demonstration of his wealth. This time you scoffed at any other suggestion to him being rich, to which he simply chuckled as he allowed the host to lead you over to your seats — some which he'd introduced as the best in the house.

"Are you going to tell me what you do for a living or should I start speculating?", you asked after a few sips of wine.

"What are your thoughts?", he decided to entertain you.

"You're in the mafia, maybe? Or a nepo baby? One of your parents married into wealth? You don't seem the lottery type. You look like you're very well accustomed to being rich," you began speculating, enjoying his amusement at you.

"All very fine guesses, but no. Gonna have to try harder."

"Can I bribe you into telling me?", there was a suggestive tilt to your tone.

"Please bribe me."

You giggled. You enjoyed how open he was about liking you. It was extremely refreshing. It was hard to remember now why you'd ignored his advances for months.

"Tell me," you whined.

"It's nothing exciting. I'm afraid you'll be bored by it," he clicked his tongue.

Maybe you should flip the script and show him your own interest?

Before you could decide, your body took control of its own, with your leg beginning to drag up and down his own under the table in a slow and seductive fashion. He instantly hiccuped at his drink when he felt the touch.

"Tell me?", you asked again, but your tone was far more convincing this time. You let the strap of your dress fall to the side, giving him a sneak peak at the strap hidden underneath it; the first hint at the pretty set you'd thrown on for later.

"A-ah, I'm just a video editor and producer. Nothing too exciting," he managed to not stutter too much as he felt your touch and allowed his eyes to zero in on the tiny sliver of bra.

"Oooh, sexy."

"Well, not as sexy as being a barista," he joked back through a stutter.

"Is that why you're always at the cafe? You're rich enough to not work a menial job like the rest of us peasants," you leaned towards the table a bit, foot continuing to tease at his leg.

"I'd say the pretty barista there is the bigger reason- Baby, you gotta stop doing that," he interrupted himself.

"What, I can't flirt with you? How's that fair?"

"You have the upper hand here. It's not fair!" he almost whined.

"Trust me, I could be doing much worse," you threatened with a smirk, "Don't make me sit next to you. I'll be even meaner up close."

He gaped at you for a few moments before readjusting himself on his seat, eyes trailing to your chest for a brief moment before attempting to refocus.

"Baby, did you enjoy your meal?", he suddenly switched the subject, sitting up straight now.

"We just got here," you tilted your head in confusion.

"Yeah, but, uh, I think I might've left my stove on. Come back home with me to check?"

Oh.

Well, that was fun enough for you.

But you could make it funner.

"But I wanted dessert," you pouted as you let your foot find higher heights on his legs.

"What I want isn't on the menu," he played along with a matching pout.

"Will you treat me to something good if I say yes?"

"I'll give you anything you want," he gave up on the double entendres, tone exasperated as he visibly itched to get up from his seat.

"Fine," you feigned disinterest, slowly getting up from your seat only to be rushed by Jungkook who had suddenly made his way over to your side of the table, ushering you out of your seat.

He scrambled through his wallet to grab a stack of cash, gesturing at the waiter to let him know it covered the bill and that he could keep any extra as a tip. You giggled as he dragged you away, not at all subtle in what his goal was. Even his grip on your wrist as he dragged you away was clear on its intent.

"Well, that was a shitty date," you deadpanned back in the car.

"You're the one who ruined it by playing footsie with me!", he rasped, attempting to focus on the road while you sat pretty beside him with an unspoken promise of sex as soon as you reached your destination.

You were happy to not be the one driving.

"But you said you'll treat me once we take care of your oven, right, Kookie?" you teased with a hand beginning to draw patterns on his leg, causing him to flinch with a whine.

"D-don't touch me! I will crash and I need you intact for I wanna do to you," he grumbled.

You laughed again, surrendering for the rest of the ride.

The next time you spoke was when Jungkook began pulling into a building that looked a few tax brackets above your own. It oozed luxury, being so high up that you could not see the end of it from the car window.

"A producer, huh? Dude, you're loaded. You could probably buy out the entire franchise of the cafe I work at," you marveled as you took in the expensive-looking parking lot you were pulling into.

"Can I? Will that get you to stop working and pay attention to me?," he pouted.

The sight gave you some cognitive dissonance. On one hand, you had an extremely attractive Jungkook donning what was likely an insanely expensive suit whilst maneuvering the car with only one hand. Meanwhile, you also had a needy boy pouting at you for your attention.

But you decided to play into the latter. The control he gave you was just too enjoyable.

"Needy," you teased.

"You have no idea."

And those were hid last words before he finally parked the car, rushing to get out and round it in order to help you out of your seat. It was embarrassing, really, the urgency in which he ushered you towards the lobby, practically dragging you all the way to the elevator before pressing a button far too high for the ride to be a short one.

Which was why you chose to take advantage of tour solitary surroundings whilst in that small ascending box.

Jungkook should've seen it coming, really. You hadn't been shy about being a tease back at the restaurant, nor had you really restrained yourself while in his car. It should've been obvious to him that you'd try and pull something whilst on the elevator too, right?

Wrong. Or well, at least if his whimper of surprise had been any indicator of his cluelessness.

The most sensible thing to do (in your horny opinion, at least) at that moment had been to corner him and catch him in a heated kiss. Apart from his initial surprise, it seemed like this was the right step to take, seeing as he fed into it immediately.

His hands were just as needy as his person, gluing themselves to your body and refusing to leave it for even a second. Every curve was felt and squeezed at as his tongue infiltrated your mouth. But his needy hands weren't even the best thing about him.

Your favorite thing was how shameless he was when it came to his sounds. If a mere kiss had him whimpering against you, you were ecstatic to know what second base would make him sound like.

Pulling at his hair, you pulled him away from you just so you could take a look at his dazed eyes (which were very adamantly glued to your lips). The sight was too pretty to ignore. But this lasted mere seconds before the poor boy drew you into another kiss, humming when you kissed back with the same amount of fervor.

Needy hands landed on your hips, long fingers digging into the plush and pushing them against his own. His hardness was already proudly present and dragging itself against whichever part of your body was closest. Pants were released right into your lips and suffocated against your tongue. No words were exchanged, as the sounds of clothes ruffling and tongues meeting were already loud enough.

Sadly, the beautiful art of dry humping had to be put to a stop when the elevator dinged, indicating you'd reached your destination.

True to his character, Jungkook whined again, immediately setting course for his apartment as he dragged you by the hand once again. You found your destination quite quickly as Jungkook fumbled to let the two of you in, practically pushing you in before closing the door behind him.

"Fuck, I want you so bad," he spoke for the first time as he pressed your lips together once more.

Blindly guiding you through his expansive apartment, he somehow managed to only bump twice before making it to his bed. Sadly, you were unable to take in your surroundings due to Jungkook's insistence in keeping your lips locked, but who were you to complain?

Landing on his bed, Jungkook remained standing, beginning to throw off his blazer and unbutton his shirt as you leaned back in a sitting position, legs spread to allow him to stand between them. You enjoyed the show, not even attempting to get yourself into any state of undress.

"Stop staring at me like that. You're making me nervous," he whined when he found himself finally shirtless, squinting at you as you quite literally ate him with your eyes.

You knew he'd be the prettiest sight from the moment you first spotted him, but he looked even better than you could've possibly imagined. He was clearly sculpted, but you didn't realize it'd be to this extent. Carrying a lean figure, every inch of his body still managed to contain toned muscle. The tattoo sleeve also did not help manners.

You ignored his whining, continuing to stare.

"Come up wrap me," you lifted your hands childishly as if to invite him to undress you, which he accepted happily.

Chuckling at your demeanor, his hands reached out to you, helping you stand up before blindly unzipping your dress and letting it fall down to reveal the other pretty garments you'd chosen to wear for him.

"Oh, you hate me," he mumbled upon a single view of what was hiding below your dress.

Pressing his forehead to your shoulder, he groaned, hands hanging by your sided as he appeared to apprehensive to touch you, not really knowing where to start.

"You haven't even looked at it yet!", you pouted, "I got it just for you. And it was expensive — maybe not by your standards, but," you shrugged.

His nose trailed its way to your neck by then, breathing you in and continuing to groan at the peak of lingerie he'd just gotten. There was no way he had gotten a good look from his proximity, but knowing that the mere suggestion of you dressing up for him already had him frustrated.

"I'll buy you a wardrobe full of them," he huffed whilst his hands felt you up, fingers lightly scratching at the lace barely covering your hips and breasts.

"If I rip it, will you be mad?", he asked after getting his fill of you. Your neck was practically wet with his saliva by then.

"Well, you did say you were gonna buy me more, so,"

Your statement was followed by a ripping sound coming from down south, your lower half now fully nude as you gasped.

"Jungkook!"

"Oh, these rip easily. That's good. I like these," he muttered, unhooking your bra before beginning to kiss his way to your breasts.

"K-kook, fuck."

His lips caught onto one of your breasts, tongue teasingly rounding the hardened bud in the middle before nipping lightly at it. A huff of air was released against your skin as he sighed in what you believed to be contentment.

"You're so pretty," he sounded pained as he said it.

He continued kissing at your breasts and feeling at your body for a few moments before laying you back on the bed, hands aiding you in scooting towards its middle so he could hover above you comfortably. His hands didn't leave you once, latched onto some part of your body at all times.

Trailing down with wet kisses, his lips acted as a magnet against your skin, finding their way to your middle slowly but desperately. Immediately once there, he nuzzled his nose into your bundle of nerves, sighing against it before letting his tongue get a taste.

"I- fuck, Kook," you sighed when you received a wide lick to your folds, followed by precise movements of his tongue.

Jungkook's proclivity towards oral became obvious quite quickly. It was as if he was trying to replace all the wetness seeping out of you with his own saliva. It sounded disgusting in theory, but felt far too good in practice.

"Hmm, fuck. Baby, I need to be able to breathe," he chuckled breathlessly when your thighs began squeezing around his head a little too harshly.

"It's your fault," was all you mumbled before whining at him to continue.

Unable to deny you anything, he kept going, tongue pointed as it poked and licked at your swollen pearl while his ring and middle finger slowly inserted themselves inside, doing a 'come hither' motion and gracing against your walls to perfection. The constant rumble of his groans against you did not really help matters either.

"You're too fucking good at this, shit," you groaned when he held you impossibly closer, nose rubbing against your clit as he licked at your hole maniacally.

"Just, fuck, it's so warn n pretty," mumbled the drunken man.

It made you pulse the way in which he described your cunt. Pretty had never been a word you'd considered, but who were you to oppose his expert opinion?

Far too soon, you felt your orgasm approach. All your senses were heightened. The smell of sweat, the feeling of his tongue against you, the sound of his grumbles of self-serving pleasure; you were done for.

When you came, it didn't come to you as a surprise when Jungkook refused to create any distance between you. His head remained buried between your legs, tongue lapping at you despite your body begging at him to stop. The sensitivity was high, but the pleasure was ever so present, you didn't have it in you to actually make him stop. Your hands dug into his hair even harder than before, though they were indecisive as to whether to pull him closer or away from you.

"God, fuck. I've been wanting to do that since I met you," he groaned out once he resurfaced.

He climbed beck up your limp and ruined body, kissing his way to your lips before nastily shoving his tongue in your mouth. Not bothering to ask whether or not you'd want to taste yourself, he took a wild guess and asserted you'd be enthusiastic in your reciprocation — which you clearly were, practically reaching down his throat with your own tongue.

Naturally, your bodies melded with one another as you kissed. Both pairs of hips became needy as they ground against each other. Bumping bellies, you ensured Jungkook remained trapping against you as you wrapped your legs around his nonexistent waist. He chuckled at this for half a second before continuing to devour your lips with his own, hips even more desperate than before.

"Wanna- fuck, wanna cum like this, but ... God, need to be inside you," he grunted out his predicament.

Pity.

Maybe you'd rebirth the lost art of dry humping some other day. It'd be far more fun to make Jungkook cum in his pants, after all. Why waste a perfectly naked Jungkook with some dry humping when he was already in a full state of undress?

"What are you waiting for?", you nudged him with your foot, opening your legs further to demonstrate your want for him.

"You're mean," he huffed as he kissed you before pulling himself away to scramble through his end table for a condom.

In an uncharacteristically non suave manner, Jungkook ripped the condom open with his mouth, peeling it over his hardness with an urgency that showed you just how needy he was. This caused you to giggle at the sight.

"You laugh now, but I'm about to fuck you into this bed," he grunted as he absentmindedly rewrapped your legs around his waist, ensuring you locked them behind his back so he could grab onto his cock and begin lining himself up.

"Fuck, baby, do you see that? So puffy and needy," he mocked, tip running up and down your folds, catching your clit long enough to make you gasp.

"Stop it. I'm the only one allowed to be mean," you complained, legs pulling him forward.

"Right," he chuckled, "What I'm about to do to you feels really mean, though."

"Jungkook, I swear to- F-fuck!"

"God, so fucking tight," he mumbled under his breath, "Feels even better than I imagined."

You panted for a few moments as you adjusted yourself to the huge intrusion, eyes faltering a bit.

"Thought about this a lot?"

"Every night, baby," he groaned when you gave him the green light to start moving.

With this, he began grinding into you with an intensity that showed you he'd been telling the truth. Despite how much of a mess he'd been throughout your date, his suave and confident persona was ever so present whilst fucking into you.

There seemed to be no thoughts in his mind that did not revolve around your pleasure. His pace was mind-numbing yet sensual, his fingers circled at your clit with the perfect precision, his lips never ceased in their smacking against your skin. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was trying to ruin you for any other man (hint: he was).

"Feels good, baby?," he grunted between thrusts, breathless and almost unable to form a sentence.

"K-kook-"

You were unable to formulate words, and he knew as much. Or at least that's what you got from the smirk pressed up against your cheek as he trailed back up to your lips.

"You're going to cum with me, right, pretty? Hmm?", his nose nudged your own, lips leaving teasing kisses against yours, "It'll feel so good, gorgeous, okay? I'm, fuck, I'm almost there."

"Kook, I'm c-cumming, sh-shit! Fuck!", you wailed when it finally hit you, having no time to feel embarrassed at how quickly it came. It had all been too much, but you were pretty sure Jungkook knew that.

He followed you into the abyss with a groan and a small bite down the skin of your shoulder. He hummed against the skin, getting it damp with saliva, but you didn't care. The heat from his body as he pressed you down onto his sheets created a damp sheen of sweat between you. It was all very humid and nasty, but the knowledge that Jungkook was currently creaming into a condom whilst buried inside you, mind lost as his sounds filled the room, was more than satisfactory to you.

"Fuck," he groaned once he slumped himself next to you.

He lazily slipped off the condom, throwing it at a trash can laid near his bed before nuzzling his body against your limp one. You had made no move since your orgasm, simply taking in the pleasure that had just invaded you mere minutes ago.

"You're dangerous for a barista."

"You knew this the moment you saw me. That's what you liked about me."

He hummed happily, "You should actually be mean to me next time. It'd be hot."

"Masochist," you laughed.

"Guilty."

"All the girls are gonna hate me when they realize I toon you off the market," you whined as you flipped yourself to your side, scooting closer to him and practically burying yourself in his skin.

"But you love that, don't you?", he chuckled.

You giggled back.

"Guilty."

to read short 2k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on patreon!

content: more cafe shenanigans with reader and her coworkers, jungkook still being down bad, smut, afab reader, tit fucking, face riding, mentions of sexting, etc.

wc: 351 (teaser); 2k (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"What the hell are you doing here with those?"

"Is that how you welcome your boyfriend?"

Those were his last words before you rushed to round the counter and get him out of earshot, dragging him by the arm towards the exit. On his other arm, he held tightly onto the ridiculously large bouquet of flowers he'd entered the facility with mere moments ago.

"Woah, what's with the aggression?", he scoffed in jest when you finally made it far enough from your coworkers' eyes.

"Dude, I already told you Lila's been on my ass since she found out we're dating. You have got to stop bringing gifts to my workplace," you groaned, though still taking the flowers from him and giving him a peck as a form of thanks.

There had been a few instances already in which Jungkook had been far too loud and proud about your relationship whilst visiting you at your workplace. It always led to thin-veiled animosity between you and your coworkers.

"So? Who cares about Loraine, or whatever her name is?", he shrugged.

"I do! And it's not just her. They're all in love with you. And most of them keep giving me the cold shoulder because of you! Lila's just the worst of them."

He pouted and coo'd, chuckling when you complained at him for patronizing you. His arms wrapped around you, still chuckling in amusement at your predicament.

"Well, you won. You have me," he hummed in satisfaction.

"Pfft. As if I chased after you," you scoffed.

"Is that a challenge? I'm not afraid to go back in there and confess my love for you."

"Jungkook. No!"

"I won't. Just because," he stopped to check his watch, "it's 2:02pm, which means you get to clock out and I get to take you home. So get your pretty ass back in there so I can get my girlfriend in bed."

"It's two in the afternoon."

"I said what I said," he gave you one last squeeze before grabbing onto your hand and leading you towards the cafe you'd just technically kicked him out of.

...

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