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ihangelic · 4 months ago

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PAS DE PUNK ╱ h.taesan

you and taesan go together like classical music and rock: not at all. but similar to the way taesan keeps getting piercings, there’s something about the way he gets under your skin that you kind of like— and you’re too proud to admit why you keep coming back for more.

pair ; punk!taesan x ballerina!reader

genre ; smut (with plot), fluff?, rock band au, enemies to lovers

warnings ; fem!reader, taesan has piercings (including tongue), arguing (flirting), some jealousy, ‘make me shut up’ kiss, confessing of feelings, petnames (mostly princess), lots of mentions of taesan’s hands & rings, dom!taesan, bratty/sub!reader, thigh riding, praise, degr*dation, bre*st play, begging, a little sp*nking, no prep, piv

wc ; 8k

playlist ; smells like teen spirit by nirvana / sugar we’re goin down by fall out boy / a little death by the neighbourhood / punk rock princess by something corporate / she’s kinda hot by 5sos / good girl by thomas larosa / s*xtape by deftones / closer by nine inch nails / all i really want is you by the marías

✉️ 𓂃 ₊˚⊹ note ; happy new year!! idk if it’s unhinged to make a playlist for a smut fic but i couldn’t help myself ><. i avoided using lesser-known ballet terms for non-dancers to understand (aka me), but also tried to make it enjoyable for dancers to read. hopefully i was successful lol.

! . . . COPYRIGHT OF IHANGELIC

dancing along with the music of l’oiseau bleu is practically impossible when it sounds like a rock concert is taking place in the room just across from you.

lowering to stand flat footed in your pointe shoes, you raise your hands to your face, pinching your nose bridge in frustration as you try and resist the growing urge to pull your hair out.

the obnoxious sound of drums, a bass’s low rumble, and an electric guitar’s higher tune rings in your ears— drowning out any of your more rational thoughts until you’re left with only rage.

you try your best to block it out, to take a moment to breathe and try to get a controlled hold over your emotions— and you think it may work after you cover your ears with your own hands, the sound of the instruments still audible but sounding more distant. then the teeth gritting noise of a cymbal pierces through the barrier of your hands and it’s almost like it’s a sound effect for the way your train of thought shatters, letting out a sigh that sounds much more like an animalistic scream before stomping over to your phone and turning off the music.

power walking out of the dance studio and to the very unfortunately placed neighboring rental space, you don’t even have to turn the knob as you look through the glass door. the raging bitch face you wear is absolutely effortless as you mean-mug all three ‘problems’ in the room; ‘problems’ that drip in leather, distressed or patched fabric, spikes, and way too oversized jeans. you’re about to feel acquainted with the three men as this situation seems to occur more and more often.

foam panels are stuck to the walls; black cords are neatly coiled or in squiggly lines across the floor; and of course there’s guitars, a drum set, and microphones everywhere.

finally you catch the eyes of the long, blond haired drummer— and that gives you enough incentive to open the door and barge in like you own the place.

“could you be any louder?” you rhetorically ask, but it goes unheard as two of the men sing passionately into their microphones, eyes closed and hands working the strings of their guitars while the drummer keeps playing his drums— all while staring at you with a relaxed, barely inquisitive face.

“could you be any louder!” you shout, the end of the sentence awkwardly fading in volume when there's a screech from one of the guitars and everything goes quiet.

the two seeming vocalists turn their heads to look at you, all three men now staring while you stand, clearly bothered as your hands are on both sides of your hips and your chest heaves with deep breaths of frustration.

“well…” the dark haired, taller one begins— and your expression only sours more as you’re already familiar with how snarky and full of himself he can be. “you’re the one yelling.”

you let out an appalled scoff, unable to help the way your eyes roll as you’re angered even more by how that only seems to make the man smirk.

“if someone has to yell just for you to hear them that means you’re the loud one.”

“you sure about that, princess?” he asks, quirking a pierced brow. your impending explosive response must be visible as the shorter statured one interrupts for damage control.

“w— we’re sorry!” he starts, speaking on his friends behalves. the blond’s expression never changes as he stares at your fuming face, while the darker haired looks like he’s about to protest— but the other continues before he has the chance. “look..we got off on the wrong foot and…”

the way his hands float in front of him, bass hanging against his chest by the strap— it only adds to how lost he looks on what to do, and it makes you feel kind of bad. (for him at least.)

you’re about to start apologizing when he’s suddenly reaching his hand out towards you.

“i’m riwoo.” he introduces, then gestures over to the other two men. “this is taesan and leehan.”

“…y/n” you say somewhat sheepishly, a bit of your shame coming back at the politeness of the bassist you now know as riwoo.

previously you’d only knock aggressively at their door to ask them to shut up, a few times popping your head in when that didn’t work to snappily ask them to please try and keep it down at least a little. you’ve never actually had a full conversation with them before— or an argument...whatever this exchange of words could be classified as.

“unfortunately we can’t really be any quieter. we have to practice for a gig we got coming up—“

“isn’t your little dance school supposed to be closed now anyway?” taesan abruptly interrupts, yet again grinding your gears with the snarky way he says the words ‘dance school’.

“it’s closed for classes, but the rooms can be used for practice up until eleven pm.” you provide smartly, catching yourself before you scrunch your nose in disgust at him.

“we try to keep the noise at a minimum if we’re here at prime hours,” riwoo cuts in again, attempting to explain gently. “but past that…” he trails off, shoulders shrugging as he gives you a sympathetic look.

you process his words, how he really is seemingly trying to help you out here, before sighing softly as your hand raises to press into your increasingly aching temple.

“do you have to use your amps?” you ask, raising a hand to point at one.

“did you not hear him? we have a show to do, we need to practice as best as we can. so yes, we have to use our amps.” taesan firmly states, over enunciating like you can’t hear. his brows are slightly furrowed as his previous amusement is completely gone, a flame of annoyance now in his eyes.

you let your hand defeatedly fall and slap against your bare thigh, taesan’s eyes glancing down at your leg for the smallest of moments before looking back up to glare at you.

“who the fuck do you think you are?” you bite at him, sick of his selfish attitude as you turn your body fully in his direction, crossing your arms.

“wxnder.” he dryly states, making your head tilt in confusion and absolute impatience.

“huh?”

“wonder— but like, with an ‘x’. that’s our band name.” leehan provides, throwing you off as you’re momentarily sidetracked by how deep and smooth his voice is. (are all these men vocalists? also, with an ‘x’— how cheesy can they be?)

“you should come watch us perform.” he smiles widely, eyes creasing and everything. you’re yet again thrown off as he speaks to you with such casual friendliness as though you haven’t practically yelled at all of them and continue to seethe at his guitarist like you want to rip his throat out.

“uh, i…”

“i’m sure miss priss has other things she’d rather do, like dance to swan lake in a feather tutu or something.” taesan finishes your sentence for you, conjuring a string of curses to lace your tongue.

“shut the f—“

“bye, twinkle toes.” he waves you off dismissively, grabbing the neck of his guitar by his multiple ringed fingers as he directs his attention back to his instrument and mic.

“it was nice meeting you, y/n.” riwoo adds somewhat shyly, adjusting the strap of his instrument as well— though much more apologetically.

“see ya’, y/n!” leehan calls before picking up his drumsticks and twirling them in his hands, looking up to taesan for his cue. you watch him cock his chin, the sudden rhythmic pounding of leehan’s drums making you flinch before taesan and riwoo start playing their strings again.

riwoo’s voice starts out soft before slowly raising in volume and you’re shocked by his melodic vocals that contrast so satisfyingly well with the rock instrumentals.

still disgruntled but more off put than anything, you don’t know what more to do than shuffle out of the room, shutting the door behind you as you stare at the air in front of you.

well, guess it’s time to find some earbuds that are sound and pirouette proof.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

you got it. you got the lead role.

all the extra (maybe slightly excessive) practicing, late nights and frustration (which would be a lot less if there wasn’t a band next door) paid off.

you’re playing as princess aurora for your dance studio’s performance of ‘the sleeping beauty’, which will be showing at a local theatre next month.

jaehyun, your good friend and fellow dancer who’s always making you smile and lightening sullen moments during classes— is your dance partner, playing as prince désiré.

the second the both of you found out you got lead roles, jaehyun was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement, insisting that you go out tonight to celebrate.

which is why you find yourself by jaehyun’s side at ‘sundown lounge’, your favorite bar and hang out spot.

“you look good, by the way!” jaehyun attempts to speak over the loud karaoke, leaning a little closer to your ear as you weave through the crowd.

“thanks!” you turn your head to smile at him over your shoulder, hoping your iridescent eyeshadow twinkles under the lights how you wanted it to.

“you do too.” you compliment before someone’s elbow is jabbed into your stomach, squishing yourself against the wall as you and jaehyun try to make it to the bar to order some drinks. “why is it so busy tonight?”

“i don’t know, maybe it’s happy hour!” jaehyun suggests hopefully, but when you finally reach the counter his theory is proven wrong when you’re told everything’s its original price. regardless, you sip on a strawberry margarita while jaehyun holds a glass of something that looks like muddy water before deciding where to sit.

“wanna go there, near the stage?” he asks, pointing over to a table that’s very near the performance area. you’d rather not have to hear a drunk girl sloppily sing a britney spears song right in your ears but jaehyun finds it hilarious, often unable to resist curling in on himself while giggling uncontrollably— and that always makes you laugh. so you nod your head, jaehyun grabbing your hand to make sure he doesn’t lose you in the crowd before leading you to the table.

there’s only two more songs played before the dj hops on the stage, speaking into the mic. “karaoke will be ending as it’s time for the band of tonight to take the stage. give us a few minutes while the performers are setting up!”

some people in the crowd hoot and holler excitedly as jaehyun turns his head to you. “i wonder what type of band will be playing tonight, last weeks was pretty good.”

“it’s punk rock!” a girl excitedly butts in from the table right next to yours, having accidentally overheard your conversation.

“a rock band?” you ask, somewhat groaned in annoyance as you now have a personal vendetta against the genre. but your tone goes completely unnoticed by the girl as her eyes continue to sparkle with enthusiasm.

“yeah! their music’s really good and they’re all super hot, my favorite one plays the electric guitar.”

“what’s their name?” jaehyun asks, curiosity evidently sparked.

“wxnder!” she answers, and your brows furrow with the familiarity of it. where have you heard that name before?

the girl’s head turns at a sound and her mouth drops open, a small uproar caused as some people in the crowd shriek and cheer. the unexpected noise has you flinching before looking towards the stage— and your jaw drops too, but not in a good way.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me...” you say to yourself in shock, watching as riwoo sits down his amp and plugs it into the wall.

“what?…what!” jaehyun whisper-yells, grabbing onto your arm to try and get your attention.

leehan appears next, sitting down behind the drum set that’s already on stage and wagging his head to adjust his hair, causing another small wave of squeals.

then a broad back covered by a black leather jacket abstracts your view, and he doesn’t even need to turn around for you to know who he is— but he does anyway. the way taesan almost immediately catches your gaze amongst the crowd is infuriating, smirking while glancing down at how close your table is to the stage before looking teasingly into your eyes again.

and it makes you pissed, unbelievably so— yet you feel your cheeks burn as you can’t help but think about how hot he looks, the stage lights glinting off his lip ring and drawing your eyes towards them.

have his lips always been so…plump?

taesan winks at you before looking down to tune his guitar, hands gripping the neck of it. veins pop out from the contours of his knuckles; long, thick fingers adorned with silver rings picking at the strings.

fuck…

“y/n?” jaehyun tries again, and you finally respond with the shake of your head, downing the remainder of your drink like it’s a shot.

“it’s nothing.” you insist.

after a few minutes of setting up, tuning, and making sure everything’s in order; taesan introduces the group (not that he exactly needs to, since it seems the bar is full of their fans), saying that their opening song will be ‘take my tears’, a song he wrote himself.

usually you and jaehyun talk throughout a band's live performance, as they’ll be playing all night— but you can’t seem to look away as you listen to the lyrics and how they perform.

it’s entrancing— much different than when you’re trying to ignore them through the studio walls. the song is somewhat emotional, beautiful; yet it also has such a fun and freeing feel. or maybe it’s just the way they sing it— how taesan sings it, his body grooving and head nodding to the beat of their sound. the lyrics aren’t what you’d expect from him— the guy you thought he was, and it leaves you wondering what more there is to him that you wouldn’t expect.

your heart skips a beat, and you’re not sure if it’s just the thrill of the rock music or if it’s because of him; the annoying, pompous punk who suddenly looks so sexy when he’s performing. (and never any other time. definitely not.)

you’ve just finished your second margarita and are a little buzzed by the time their set is finished, the night passing faster than you realized.

jaehyun is eating on a basket of fries, yapping away so fervently that he doesn’t even notice how you’ve gotten up from the table and are approaching taesan— who again locks eyes with you as he walks down the steps of the stage to meet you halfway.

“so, what did you think?” he asks, a little out of breath from the long performance, having had no breaks in between songs.

he stands closely so you can hear him— and it’s enough for you to smell his cologne; to see the way sweat clings to the skin of his neck; deep breaths coming out in puffs as his chest expands. something about it all has an effect on you— or maybe it’s something in the air, because taesan doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes rake over your body, admiring your legs in your denim mini skirt.

“you..you guys were amazing.” you compliment, sounding a little out of breath yourself.

taesan makes a ‘hm’ sound, faintly smiling at you while biting his lip— and you swear you see the glint of metal on his tongue.

your body heats up as you wonder if his tongue is pierced too, what kind of things he could do to you with it, what it would feel like against your skin— before you frantically try and dismiss the increasingly dirty thoughts, reminding yourself that the man you’re fantasizing about is right in front of you.

“i didn’t think you’d actually come.” taesan says, speaking in a teasing tone that you swear seems flirty paired with the slight quirk of his brow.

“how’d you even know we’d be here? did you stalk us, princess?”

okay, surely that was flirting, right?

you’re about to playfully roll your eyes, paired with a smart little comment and deny that’d you’d ever be interested enough to ‘stalk’ them— until the girl that spoke to you about wxnder earlier suddenly appears, putting herself between you and taesan.

“you were absolutely amazing, taesan.” the girl croons, confidently placing her hand on his forearm as she leans all up in his personal space.

and you expect him to shrug her off, either politely or not-so politely establish some distance between them. but again, he surprises you— in a way you absolutely hate.

he smirks at her, in just the same way he did to you just moments ago— and leans even closer to her face, unneededly close.

“aren’t you sweet. thank you so much.”

“no problem.” the girl smiles cattily, clearly enjoying the attention.

something in your heart burns, and that familiar feeling of uncontrollable annoyance comes back even worse than before.

“do you think i could get your autograph?”

“sure, princess.” taesan answers lowly— and that does it.

without even feeling the urge to look back and see that girl all over him, you’re gone, picking up a drunk jaehyun by his arm.

“wh— where are we going?” jaehyun drunkenly slurs, eyes glossed over as they look at you.

“to get an uber home.” you answer firmly, eyes hard as you once again weave through the crowd.

you feel eyes on your back, but you ignore it until you get to the door, turning your head as jaehyun leans half of his body weight against you. even amongst all the faces, you and taesan’s eyes meet easily, his arm now slung around the girl’s waist as she whispers something in his ear.

his lips are in that same smirk— like he’s taunting you, and you scoff, dragging jaehyun and yourself out of the bar.

you can’t believe you were actually feeling into him— but you surely don’t have to worry about that now.

he’s just confirmed that he is in fact what you thought he was: an absolute ass and a cocky player who sings on stage to get girls in his bed.

well, fuck him. he can get his dick wet with anyone he wants but it sure as hell won’t be you.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

the very next day you’re back at the dance studio, rehearsing for the upcoming performance.

jaehyun whines the whole day, saying that it’s somehow your fault that he got drunk off his ass— but despite that, he does incredibly well during class. you do also, but unbeknownst to you, your friend wonders why you seem so tense— like something has been bothering you all day.

“shouldn’t you go home and rest, y/n?” jaehyun asks you at the end of class hours. everyone else is packing up their totes and leaving, yet you’re stood at the ballet barre doing leg exercises.

“i’ll be fine. practice makes perfect.” you insist, keeping your eyes on your form in the mirrored wall.

“well..just don’t overwork yourself, okay?” jaehyun sweetly tells you, and you flash him a thankful smile through the mirror.

“don’t worry, yunie, i wont. see you tomorrow.”

if it weren’t for the absolute beast you’re known to be in the studio, jaehyun would force you out of your pointe shoes and drag you home himself— but you don’t seem even a little bit tired, and it appears as though you have some steam to blow off.

so jaehyun and you exchange goodbyes before he leaves you in the empty classroom. (yes, completely empty— aside from the lady at the front desk. no one is as obsessive as you to want to stay even another second practicing when you already have for the whole day— on a saturday night, no less.)

you spend the next thirty minutes going over the steps you learned today that you don’t have down perfectly yet, having small cool downs in the form of stretching in between.

‘entrée d’aurore’ is still playing on your phone when you hear the distant voices of what must be the front desk lady and someone else speaking. you wonder if somebody has returned to get some extra practice in as well, and as you hear footsteps approaching, you remain sitting on the floor doing toe touches.

the door to the classroom opens, echoing slightly in the big, empty space— you lift your head to see someone who definitely is not a part of the sleeping beauty cast.

“y/n?” taesan says somewhat quietly, eyes looking around the big room that only holds one ballerina, who looks small in comparison to the high ceilings and vacant space.

your eyebrows furrow, somewhat irritated to see him while also being surprised— not only by his presence but by the unfamiliar way he almost looks sheepish: barely taking a few steps inside the classroom, looking around like he expects someone or yourself to scold him and kick him out.

“…don’t tell me you auditioned.” you joke, although it’s said casually. your eyes only scrutinize him for a second before you look back down to your own hands as you stretch them across your straightened legs and to your toes.

taesan has seen you a handful of times when you’re in your casual practice wear, but what you’re clad in for an official performance class is a little different. you’re wearing a black leotard with a little mesh skirt, a cropped shirt overtop, tights, and black leg warmers.

you look..really cute. even when you’re pretending to ignore him.

“no. the lady at the front desk said you were in here.” he explains lamely, all his usual snarky remarks not coming to his thoughts as he watches you in your element.

“good. i don’t want to see you in tights anyway. not your aesthetic.”

“sure you don’t.”

your head snaps to look at him before you can think not to react, cheeks heating up as you see the twinkle in his eyes and the small smile he tries to conceal by pressing down his lips.

you sigh as though you’re bothered— because you are— obviously…and get up from your floor stretches to walk over to the ballet barre again. taesan follows you.

“i don’t know why you’re here but i’m practicing. you should leave.”

“who was that with you at the bar last night?”

your cold indifference is broken at the unexpected question, your expression clearly confused as you look at the man standing beside you in the mirrored wall.

“what, jaehyun? he’s my friend. he wanted to go out to celebrate our castings. y’know, for the performance i’m trying to practice for right now?”

“so it was a date.” taesan remarks, eyes hardening right in front of you— and there’s that angered burn in your chest again, your hands squeaking from how tightly they hold onto the barre as your expression turns sour.

“who i date isn’t any of your business to speculate. i haven’t asked you what you and that fangirl got up to last night, have i?” you snap, raising a challenging brow at him— but it only makes him shake his head in unbelief, staring at you like you’re an absolute idiot.

“what? y/n, i don’t even know her name.”

“yes, well, i’m not surprised over that. i’m guessing it’s not very important for you to learn a girl’s name— as long as you’re in between her legs by the end of the night.”

his hand is on your shoulder, turning you around to face him abruptly as he stands closely, right in front of you.

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean? you think i fucked her?”

“i don’t want to know what you di—“

“shut the fuck up.” taesan orders, his fingers curling over your wrists making you wonder when they got there in the first place.

“make me.” someone (you?) says, and then you feel the cold press of taesan’s lip ring against your mouth.

it’s firm at first: the way his lips slam into yours, how both of your expressions still look pissed off at each other, even with both of your eyes closed. but eventually you seem to realize that taesan is actually kissing you— and then you’re melting into him, sighing as you feel his touch soften in response.

his kiss quickly turns demanding, lips moving against yours in pursuit of your taste. you squeak when his teeth bite at your bottom lip, not knowing you’ve fallen right into his trap until his tongue has already seized the opportunity and invaded your mouth. turns out you weren’t wrong when you thought you spotted a ball stud piercing on taesan’s tongue, you can most definitely feel it when he brushes it against your own appendage.

your head is pushed against the mirror from his vigor and you whimper, never having felt so dominated simply by a man’s kiss; taesan explores your mouth like he owns it, like it’s his, and it makes your core pulse, a flicker of neediness growing.

the rough groan he lets out as his hands move to roam and grasp at your waist hints at his possessiveness, fingers pressing into your skin through the thin material of your leotard.

“didn’t fuck her. didn’t want to.” he murmurs between the eager movements of his lips. “just wanted to make you jealous.”

“wh— why?” you manage breathily, taesan pressing his body against yours as your hands move to brace yourself on the barre.

“because i like you, y/n.” he smiles and huffs in disbelief at your denseness.

“i want to take you on a date— whether you let me between your legs or not.” he smirks, referring to your earlier harsh remark and making you cringe at the reference.

“i…i’d like that.” you say shyly, looking at him through your lashes. “the date— and..and the other thing too.”

“the other thing?” taesan repeats, confused as you only avoid his gaze, not further explaining— but funnily enough, your sudden bashful attitude is what makes it click in his mind.

“princess?” he experimentally calls, pleased when you automatically lift your head to look at him. his tongue unconsciously peaks out to play with his lip ring as he cockily grins, hand creeping up from your waist to pinch your chin between his fingers.

“why don’t you be a big girl and tell me what you mean?”

your nose crinkles, a pathetic attempt at defiance amidst your embarrassment. taesan’s other hand pinches the tender skin of your thigh, causing you to flinch and whimper at the slight pain as he makes a disapproving sound under his breath.

“come on, y/n. be good or i won’t give you what you want.”

“i— i want you...i meant—”

taesan does anything but go easy on you, eyes dark with mischief as he lowers his head to nibble at your neck. you squeeze your thighs together, looking for relief from the way your pussy now pulses prominently.

his hands move in tandem, one cradling along your jawline while the other brushes up and down your thigh, making you annoyed at your tights with how they keep you from feeling the cold brush of his rings against your skin.

you want them off. you want taesan to take them off. so you admit it.

“want you to fuck me. please, taesan.”

“awe,” he coos. “aren’t you a sweet one.”

you swear the tone in which he says those words turn you into goo, your hands releasing the barre to desperately hold onto his shirt.

“please.” you beg, finding yourself only wanting more praise— more of him— just anything he’s willing to give you.

taesan is able to identify the look in your eyes, staring at your lips and leaning down so slowly, making you whine at his teasing until he finally grants you mercy and kisses you again.

it’s dirtier than before: a lot more spit, moans, and movement from both of your tongues. taesan’s leg leans against the wall between your thighs, and whether it was his purpose to give you relief or not, you take the opportunity and hesitantly grind your core against his ripped jeans.

the pleasure is immediate, sending a tingle up your spine that has you arching against his chest, forgetting any shame as you begin to earnestly grind your hips against him. the thin layers covering your core paired with the roughness of taesan’s denim creates a wonderful friction, feeling how wet you’ve become in your panties.

“shit, you’re such a slut for it.” taesan remarks in genuine awe after breaking the kiss to watch the little show you’re putting on. his eyes take in every movement, from the way you rock against him to how your eyes squeeze shut and you tilt your head back.

the previous song playing on your phone has long since finished as some other tune now plays from your playlist— taesan suddenly becoming aware of it and that he has a girl whimpering and riding his thigh in the middle of a dance classroom.

he abruptly pulls away, the presence between your legs disappearing as you conjure a bratty sound from your throat.

“y/n,” taesan scolds in a harsh whisper. “did you forget where we are?”

“thought you said you’d fuck me if i was good?” you argue, flashing him a defiant expression.

“you think using my thigh to get yourself off without my permission is being good?”

your eyes widen, not expecting him to call you out on it.

looking to the floor and hearing taesan’s responding laugh at your childishness, it only makes the desire to act out against him stronger— you’re just not sure how you can do it in this moment.

“get your things. we can go to my place.” taesan offers, your stomach fluttering at the idea as you do what he says— moving to grab your phone, bag, and change out of your ballet wear.

your heart is pounding out of your chest and what’s between your legs hasn’t calmed down at all either by the time you walk out of the dance studio and sit in the passenger seat of taesan’s car.

and the drive is just as excruciating.

the man seems hellbent on teasing you by not giving you a drop of attention, keeping his eyes on the road while some rock song plays through the speakers. and you know he knows what he’s doing, how you can’t keep his eyes off of him, because the corner of his mouth is subtly turned.

you see no reason to hide it since he’s already aware, so you stare at him— once again admiring how hot his hands look wrapped around the steering wheel, the contours of his jawline and perfect side profile illuminated by the low hanging sun.

your eyes keep wandering— down, down, down until you get to his lap, where you see the large bulge tenting his pants.

your mouth waters and your hands twitch, wondering if he’s really as big as he looks and hoping you’ll get to find out by the end of tonight.

then you’re struck with an idea, recognizing the perfect opportunity you have right now— and you reach your hand out confidently to grope him over his pants.

you’re so proud at the way it makes taesan softly gasp under his breath, back stiffening at the unexpected touch. you mold your hand over his clothed dick, rubbing and gently squeezing— in all the right ways apparently, as you feel him twitch in your hands— even through the thick denim fabric.

“y/n, stop it.” taesan grits, and you hear the squeak of what you guess is his hands gripping tightly around the steering wheel. you don’t look at him until after you’ve located the head of his cock, rubbing over it with your thumb and meeting his fiery glare with a teasing bite to your lip— clearly pleased with yourself.

taesan is visibly pissed at your blatant act of defiance, but he gives you one more chance in the form of a threat.

“you’re not very patient, are you, princess? keep touching my dick like that and you won’t even get to see it out of my pants.”

your hand immediately stills— the man releasing a huff of disbelief when you pull your hand away completely to lay both of your hands on your lap, avoiding his gaze as you stare ahead.

not another word is shared, taesan enjoying the way you nervously squirm in your seat as he finally pulls into his apartment’s parking lot.

“stay.” he simply orders once he’s parked, and you’re left confused as he exits the car, only to watch him come around and open your door for you— even going as far to unbuckle your seatbelt and keep a firm hold around your wrist as he leads you up the stairs of his building. it makes butterflies flutter in your stomach yet your insides twist with nervous anticipation— because he does it all with the same stern eyes he spoke to you with as he threatened not to fuck you.

when the key is twisted and his front door lightly squeaks open— his residence somehow looks exactly how you thought; dark, moody, vintage rock posters and memorabilia hanging on the walls.

you expect him to be cheesy and press you against his door the moment it’s closed, but he doesn’t— instead walking over leisurely to his couch and sitting down, legs widely spread in an oddly commanding and powerful way.

your eyes widen at the arousing image, feeling yourself become sheepish as taesan lets his eyes roam over your form without shame.

“why do you look so shy now? you were such a disobedient little slut in the car.”

you swallow, hardly able but trying to hold eye contact with him as your face heats up in a delicious sort of shame.

taesan sighs as though he’s annoyed with your silence, patting one thigh with his hand.

“come here.”

“…h— huh?”

“don’t make me say it again, y/n.” he orders— and next thing you know, your body is moving to straddle the leg he’s directed you to sit on.

“there we go. guess princesses can take orders sometimes, hm?” he rhetorically asks, but you’re nodding your head anyway.

taesan just stares at you for a bit, admiring how pretty you look sitting and waiting for what he’ll do next, so different from the bratty attitude you had during the car ride.

then his hands rest on your bare waist, giving him easy access as you had disregarded your leotard before leaving the studio, now only wearing your cropped shirt and athletic shorts.

you’re unable to conceal the shuddered inhale you take as taesan’s hands creep upward, seeing him smirk at the sound before his hands slip under your shirt and reach your tits.

“no bra?” he teases, biting his lip as his fingers pinch at your hard nipples.

“n— no,” you struggle out, flinching lightly as taesan plays with your tits without any restraint, like your body is his toy. the contrast of his cool rings against your heated skin causes goosebumps to rise on the surface of your arms, chest pushing further into his hands. “didn’t think there was any p—..point.”

you watch as taesan shakes his head like he’s disappointed, yet he’s smiling darkly.

“dirty girl.” he remarks, giving a firmer pinched tug to your hard bud and forcing a whimper to escape from between your lips. “just take everything off then.”

you’re quicker to do what he says this time, only letting your sudden shy attitude make you hesitate for a moment before getting up from his lap to discard your clothing to his floor, keeping eye contact with taesan as best as you can manage— as he seems pleased when you do. he lets out a hungry exhale when you take off your shirt and your tits are revealed to his eyes, hand leisurely jerking himself off over his pants by the time your shorts are removed— leaving you only in your underwear.

“is that a thong, princess?” taesan asks breathily, eyes slightly widening in what you think might be surprise.

“yeah? it’s…it’s what i always wear underneath my leotard.” you confirm, somewhat confused— until taesan speaks again, hand moving up and down his dick faster.

“fuck, just— just didn’t expect such a prissy girl like you to— shit, i don’t know. you’re so hot.”

you smile— and it’s equally sexy and cute in a way that makes taesan feel like he’s going to go insane if you don’t get back on his lap right away. your fingers slip beneath the band of your panties to tug them off, but he stops you before you can.

“don’t. keep them on, wanna see you make a mess in them for me.”

a part of you— the bratty side— wants to say you already have, the dark spot from your leaking arousal evidence of it. but you don’t, the desire to listen actually winning over as you remove your hands from your hips and straddle his thigh again. you hover this time, not fully sitting down as you’re embarrassed for him to feel your wetness directly against his bare skin, which are revealed through the large holes in his jeans.

but taesan catches on immediately, tutting fondly as his hands squeeze at your hips.

“all the way.” he drawls, like he’s giving a ditzy dog a command they’re struggling to understand— and it makes your stomach flip, hurrying to do as he says.

you know he feels it, how your panties clinging to your wet pussy lips press against his thigh— and as he bites at his lip, drawing your eyes to his twinkling piercing yet again— your face burns as you’re sure he’s probably looking at the glistening residue you’ve surely left on his skin.

“good girl.” he mutters roughly, you whining in response as your hands fist into the material of his shirt.

you feel like such a slut, sitting on a man’s lap almost completely bare while he’s fully clothed, your needy pussy slowly drenching his thigh in your juices; and you sound like one too as taesan leans down to suck your nipple into his mouth.

you gasp and stutter— unsure of what you’re even trying to say as taesan chuckles around your bud, continuing to flick and roll his pierced tongue over you. the contrast of his warm appendage and the occasional brush of round metal against your skin makes you sensitive, hole clenching around nothing with every other swipe of his tongue.

“like that?” he whispers before switching to give your other breast attention.

“yes,” you quietly moan, wrapping your arms around to grip and play with the hair at the nape of his neck, subsequently pushing his face deeper into your tits.

he likes that— if his responding groan is anything to judge by, his hands pulling your hips forward and drawing a more unabashed sound from your lips at the movement.

“use me. get your little pussy off on my thigh.”

“fuck— yes,” you obey, rocking your hips and finding a rhythm.

“shit. that’s it, baby.” he coos, his hand suddenly reigning down against your ass a contrast to his soft tone as it leaves your skin tingling with heat. “just a few little touches is all it takes to get the brat out of you, huh?”

you scoff at that— though it’s interrupted by a moan when taesan flexes his thigh. shame burns your skin and his little remark makes you want to act out again, but all you can do is grind your pussy against him, gasping and going faster whenever your covered clit gets brushed over just right.

your hands that are still tangled in his hair pull to disconnect his mouth from your tits, leaning down to kiss him instead. taesan doesn’t scold you for the demanding gesture— but he does lift a hand to grasp it over your throat. he doesn’t squeeze, but the simple act makes you feel so good and dominated— and his other hand which gropes at your ass and snaps the string waistband of your thong has you falling further into delirium.

“please— please, tae. wanna cum.”

“then cum.” he says simply, and when you finally open your squeezed shut eyes, he’s staring at your desperate face with amusement— and just like that, you’re pissed.

“taesan! i can’t! not— not enough!” you whine, not even able to think about how pathetic you sound.

“you’re cumming by my thigh or not at all. this is what you get for acting like a fucking whore while i was driving.”

you whisper out a sigh, and it’s so broken and helpless as you rock your hips earnestly against him that he almost feels bad— but the bigger part of him is proud; proud in a dark and twisted way at how he’s dwindled the ballerina down to nothing but a mindless slut that’s practically crying with the need to cum.

another spank is delivered to your ass and you flinch, taesan’s hand around your neck getting a little firmer as he forces your teary eyes to look up at him— and you feel like a dog in heat as your hips never stop their efforts to bring you to release.

“please.” you beg, and taesan’s eyes turn hazey at the beautiful sound.

“come on, princess. i know you can do it for me.” he encourages— and turns out that’s all you needed.

taesan gets an up close view as your eyes roll to the back of your head, mouth dropping open in a silent cry as he feels you ruin your panties even further.

his thigh is dripping as you keep rutting your hips against him, letting out small whimpers as you work yourself through your high. taesan grants you mercy at the very end, helping you grind your hips before eventually slowing you to a stop.

then he’s picking you up and carrying you into what you can only assume is his bedroom— because in the next moment he’s laying you down on a black comforter-covered mattress and stripping off his clothes.

you’re panting, still catching your breath— but you still manage to make a somewhat teasing comment as the man’s bare chest is revealed to you.

“no tattoos?”

taesan looks up at you right after pulling his shirt over his head, black hair disheveled and brushing over his eyes as he smirks silently at you and combs it out of his face.

“i thought all emo’s had tattoos.” you tack on�� and that gets him to respond.

“emo?! i’m not emo, i’m fucking punk!” he argues, somewhat offended but mostly amused as he works on removing his jeans.

“emo, punk, metalhead. it’s all the same thing.” you offhandedly say.

“…i’m about to go soft.” taesan threatens.

“kidding!” you laugh, sitting up on your elbows— and the smile is completely wiped off your face when taesan removes his boxers and his dick is finally freed, slapping against his abs.

“shit..” you whisper to yourself, watching as taesan rolls a condom on before climbing on the bed and caging you underneath him with his body.

“need me to stretch you first, princess?” taesan sweetly asks after peeling off your drenched panties, hand brushing up and down your hip soothingly.

as much as you want his sexy fingers in your cunt— you can’t wait any longer, spreading your legs for him as you flash him your best puppy-dog eyes.

“no. please just fuck me, taesanie. need you.”

“god…” taesan sighs, not making you wait anymore as he lines his head to your entrance before pushing in slowly. “oh, fuck. you’re so tight, princess.”

your chest heaves as he pushes into the hilt, your hands gripping against the sheets.

“move. fuck me hard, please. want it rough.”

you think you hear taesan mutter something about you being a dream before his pulling out till just the tip is stretching your hole— and slamming back inside.

you both turn a little animalistic and desperate, learning how the other feels and bodies being taken over by the pleasure of it. taesan’s cock stretches you out so good— he fucks you so good. the rocking of his bed frame hits against his wall, and you have a fleeting thought about if the walls are thin and if he’ll get a noise complaint— before all that is forgotten as taesan takes hold of one of your thighs and bends it against your chest.

“feel it, baby? feel how fucking bad i want you?” taesan groans between his teeth, hand squeezing tightly around your leg unconsciously— and you secretly hope it leaves mark indentations from his rings; tiny bruises from his fingers you can admire the next day.

you only can respond so his deeply uttered words with a broken moan, and taesan only fucks you harder.

“that’s it, princess got what she wanted.” he coos, eyes surprising you by how they turn a little soft— though the movement of his hips certainly never do. “always give my princess what she wants.”

you whine at that, grabbing him by the shoulders to ask for a kiss.

“fuck, you drive me crazy, y/n.” he breathes before leaning down to yet again give you what you ask for.

“but i like that about you.” he finishes between kisses.

your thighs are trembling in pleasure, sweat is lining your hairline and glistening from taesan’s chest— and you can’t take it anymore, wrapping your legs around taesan’s waist as your nails dig into his back.

“can i come, please? oh, fff— please?”

“such a good fucking slut when you got a cock in you, huh? can’t believe my princess likes it rough.”

his hand manages to squeeze between your bodies despite how tightly you cling to him, his fingers finding your clit and tracing shapes over it.

“cum, baby. get it all over my sheets.”

your body going stiff before trembling uncontrollably against him, all while your pussy clenched around his throbbing cock— it brings taesan to release as well, pressing his mouth to yours to swallow each other's cries of pleasure.

the come down is slow, taesan rolling over and pulling your body on top of his so he doesn’t accidentally fall against you in exhaustion.

your deep breaths puff warmly against his neck as he cradles you on his chest, hands swirling patterns over your back absentmindedly.

“that was…amazing.” you say around a sigh, enjoying the comforting aroma of taesan’s cologne imbedded into his sheets.

“yeah…are you done?” taesan asks, still breathy yet curious— and you raise your head to look at his face.

“you want to go again?”

“well,” taesan starts, somewhat sheepishly— yet his eyes hold that constant playful sparkle. “just thought you might be curious what it feels like to get eaten out with a piercing.”

your eyes widen, clearly shocked by not only the question but at how correct he is.

“come on, princess. you’re not slick. don’t think i didn’t notice you staring at it when we were at the bar. plus, you did say you wanted me between your legs—“

“can you stop bringing that up!?”

note ; and for anyone wondering, yes, taesan went to reader’s ballet performance. (and yes, he got jealous watching her and jaehyun dancing on stage together…part two material?🤭)

all taglists (perm/fluff/smut) are open if anyone would like to be added! age must be in bio/somewhere on pinned post if you want to be tagged in perm/smut taglist.

#ihangelic smut #taesan smut #taesan x reader #taesan imagines #boynextdoor smut #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor x reader #bnd smut #bnd imagines #bnd x reader #kpop smut #kpop imagines #han taesan #han dongmin #bonedo #hard thoughts #hard hours

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memorabxlia · 2 days ago

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badboy boynextdoor ━ 비엔디

☆pairing¡! ot6 x fem!reader (separate) ☆genre¡! fluff ☆warnings¡! mentions food, mentions violence, implied friends to lovers, mentions smoking, mentions bad weather, ☆wc¡! 836 (all together)

Sungho – wc: 131

He shows up at your place with blood on his knuckles and a cocky tilt to his grin. You don’t say anything at first. Just grab the first aid kit and sit him down.

“Seriously?” you mutter. “Again?”

“He deserved it.”

“They always do, huh?”

He winces when you dab at the cut, but he doesn’t flinch away.

The next day, you leave cupcakes on his porch—pink frosting, heart sprinkles, and a note that says, “Try problem-solving without your fists. Start with frosting.”

You don’t expect a response, but later your phone buzzes: “Too sweet. Just like you. I ate five.”

You shake your head, smiling, because of course he did.

Riwoo – wc: 155

You catch him feeding a stray cat behind the gas station, crouched low like he’s hiding something illegal.

“You’re serious about this?” you ask, stepping closer. “You hiding your side hustle as a cat dad?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not a cat dad.”

“Okay, so this one’s stalking you?”

He doesn’t answer. Just scratches the cat’s ears like he’s done it a hundred times.

You pull a granola bar from your bag and offer it. The cat eats it. He watches you with that unreadable look.

“You naming him or what?”

“Only if you don’t tell anyone,” he mutters.

“Cross my heart,” you say, smiling.

The next week, you show up with a tiny hand-knit cat sweater.

He calls it stupid.

He also keeps it.

Jaehyun – wc: 143

You show up to the party in pastels and glossed lips, feeling like the only splash of color in a house full of dark hoodies and half-hearted beer pong. You spot Jaehyun leaning on the porch railing, cigarette glowing faintly in the dark. His eyes find you fast. They always do.

When you leave, he’s suddenly beside you. He doesn’t ask. Just walks.

“You always follow girls home?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

“Just the ones who dress like a cupcake but walk like they own the street,” he says, not even glancing your way.

You scoff, but your heart’s racing.

He keeps his hands in his pockets, but when a car slows near the curb, his body shifts in front of you, subtle and sure.

You pretend not to notice. He knows you do.

Taesan – wc: 119

You’re talking to someone from yearbook—nice, clean-cut, smiley. He’s sweet. Harmless.

What you don’t notice is Taesan across the courtyard, watching with narrowed eyes, arms crossed like he’s weighing something.

He finds you after class, corners you at your locker.

“You into him?”

You blink. “Who?”

“That guy. From lunch.”

“Oh. No. He’s just… friendly.”

He steps closer, voice low. “Good. ‘Cause if you were, I’d have to pretend I don’t care. And I don’t lie well.”

Your brain short-circuits.

And just like that, he walks away, leaving you blushing and grinning like a lovesick idiot.

Leehan – wc: 193

The storm knocks the power out at his place. Yours went out earlier—and worse—so you showed up with wet hair and cold fingers, and he didn’t say much. Just opened the door, handed you one of his hoodies, and muttered, “Don’t drip on the floor.”

Now you’re both on the living room floor, wrapped in mismatched blankets with one flickering candle between you. He leans back against the wall, black hoodie, silver rings, and that usual calm that’s more dangerous than loud.

“I never pictured you being scared of thunder,” he says, lips curled just slightly. “I’m not scared,” you lie. Then, thunder crashes again—and you flinch. He doesn’t say I told you so. Doesn’t tease again. Just reaches over, pulls you into his side like it’s nothing, and settles you there. You feel his fingers brush over the frilly edge of your sleeve, slow and absent, like he’s thinking about something and not saying it. “You’re safe, princess,” he murmurs. “You can stop pretending now.” And slowly, with your cheek pressed against his chest and his scent in your lungs, you actually do.

Woonhak – wc: 149

You’re at lunch when you overhear two girls behind you.

“He’s just messing with her. Guys like him don’t date girls like that.”

“She’s probably just a phase.”

You snap.

“He’s better than any of the guys you’ve dated. He actually listens. He shows up. Last week he stood in the rain with me for an hour just because I didn’t want to be alone. So maybe mind your business.”

They go quiet.

Later, Woonhak finds you behind the gym, hands stuffed in your jacket.

“You didn’t have to say anything,” he says.

“I know. I wanted to.”

He leans in, kisses you quick and breathless, hand cupping your cheek like you’re something delicate.

And he doesn’t say it—but you know he’s never felt more seen.

☆taglist¡! @minkilicious @dobbiesvvorld ☆networks¡! @blossomnet @onedoornet @k-labels @k-films @kflixnet @daydreamnet

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starrihan · 6 days ago

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OH MY GOD I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR THIS FIC FOR AGES I CANT BELIEVE I FINALLY FOUND IT AGAIN HOLY MOTHER OF PEARL

International Relations || K. DH (Leehan)

❀ pairing: president’s son!donghyun x rival!reader (implied fem reader), ft. various foreign idol cameos

❀ genre: enemies to lovers, suggestive (like it gets very tense and a little graphic at the end), minor fluff

❀ word count: ~5.5k

❀ warnings: explicit language, suggestive content, drug mention, alcohol consumption

❀ summary: In the perpetual game of cat and mouse, you always find yourself on the offense. So why does Donghyun look like the cat who got the cream? And why is defeat so hard to admit?

❀ A/N: SURPRISE!!!! Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and is in no way related to the global political landscape. Please let me know how you guys like this one :)))

It’s too early on a Tuesday morning when a loud knock rings out throughout your bedroom, instantly rousing you from your slumber. You barely have time to open your eyes before a familiar face is letting himself into your room. Hanbin is clearly frazzled, his normally perfect appearance marred by a necktie with an improper knot and a severe case of bed head. You imagine you don’t look much better.

“You need to get up, now,” Hanbin rushes, beginning to flit about your bedroom at a panicked pace. “You have an interview with Kim Donghyun in an hour.”

Even through your sleepy haze, the statement immediately has you sitting up straight. “What?!”

As the darling son of the South Korean President, Kim Donghyun was more than just a household name. He was held as a sort of international superstar, known for his mellow temperament and his stunning looks. As the child of your own nation’s president, you have crossed paths with him quite a few times; enough times, in fact, to know just how much of an utter asshole he is.

“What do you mean interview with Kim Donghyun?” You ask, as Hanbin hadn’t bothered to clarify.

The man is still pacing the length of your lavish bedroom, typing something angrily into his phone.

“It’s for the BBC. They are doing some story on the children of international government officials. Since the Kim family is here for the United Nations Gala later this week, they asked to squeeze in an interview for you two to do together.”

“Together?” You groan, running your hands through your already messy hair. “Why didn’t you tell them no?”

“Your mother’s assistant accepted before I even heard about it. She also just so happened to forget to tell me until 15 minutes ago,” Hanbin sighs, finally stopping his hurried movement. “Please, just get dressed. There will be hair and makeup at the interview site, but we have to leave soon.”

You can’t help but groan again, fighting the tantrum building up in your core. A last minute interview would already irritate you enough, but having to do it with Kim Donghyun is enough to have you cursing the universe.

It blew your mind that he was able to be the world’s golden child when he had such a rotten core. He was disgustingly cocky and spoiled, clearly used to having everyone in his life cater to him. He couldn’t be bothered with anyone who he didn’t perceive to be of his status, never choosing to mingle with anyone except for his exclusive inner circle.

What makes it all worse is how disgustingly attractive he is. His blonde locks always frame his face perfectly, sometimes falling to obscure one of his ever-so-sparkly eyes. His full lips are always twisted into that cocky smirk he constantly wears, his left cheek always dimpling with the expression. He was tall and built like a model, his godly proportions always highlighted by the perfectly tailored suits he wore.

He’s so beautiful; you fucking hate him.

His deplorable beauty twists your stomach into knots an hour and a half later, when you slide into the seat next to him. The interview space has been set up so that the two of you are seated in chairs just inches apart, bright lights shining down on you so that the cameras can capture virtually any flaw. But of course, Donghyun still looks perfect, greeting you with his signature smirk.

“Y/N,” he drawls, voice deep and syrupy like honey. “It’s been a while.”

“Not long enough, clearly.”

You pointedly ignore the deep chuckle that your remark earns you. The sound still manages to slip past your barriers, setting the pit of your stomach ablaze.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you missed me.”

You can’t help but scoff, rolling your eyes even though Donghyun can barely see it. “You wish.”

“Yeah,” Donghyun whispers, barely audible. “I do wish.”

Palpable tension is nothing new for the two of you, your perpetual spats and teasing always leaving the air in the room a bit thicker than it had been before. The flirting always adds another layer. It’s not as if either of you mean anything by it, nor would anything ever happen between the two of you. But something about the smooth ways Donghyun counters your banter while looking like he wants to eat you alive makes you consistently hot under the collar.

It’s at that moment that the interviewer makes her way onto set, greeting you both with a warm smile. She’s clearly a fan of Donghyun, seemingly only addressing him in the few moments you have before the interview officially starts. The moment you get the countdown and the notice that they’re rolling from the director, however, she slips on her professional mask and begins the interview.

The hour slot goes by both painfully slow and surprisingly quick. You find it easy to get lost in Donghyun’s answers, fighting the urge to stare at his mouth as he speaks. But when it comes to your own answers, you find it hard to articulate exactly what you mean. It makes the minutes trickle by at a snail’s pace, only for the time to pick back up when Donghyun opens his mouth again.

You let out a sigh when the interview is finally over, the journalist thanking both you and Donghyun before disappearing somewhere off set. It leaves you and Donghyun seated while various crew members fuss over you to rid you of your mics. The silence between the two of you only lasts for a few moments before Donghyun decides to break it.

“You should come over.”

You can’t help but look at the man as if he’d grown another head, gaze flickering between Donghyun and the rest of the crew that lingers within earshot. He just shrugs, clearly uncaring if anyone overhears.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You whisper as harshly as you can. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Ehh…not yet,” Donghyun smiles. “So come over.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“I have some, uh, business matters I’d like to discuss with you.”

Before you have a chance to respond, Donghyun is standing from his chair, mile-long legs making themselves known as he rises to his full height. It takes everything in you not to stare at how stupidly tiny his waist is or how disgustingly broad his shoulders look in his suit jacket.

“I’ll have my people contact your people,” Donghyun says as he turns to leave, shooting you the tiniest smirk. “I’ll see you at eight, Y/N.”

. . .

You choose to show up to the specified address closer to 9:30pm than the expected 8. Hanbin says it’s out of spite, but you just consider it being fashionably late. Of course, no one is ever fashionably late to a business meeting, but a nagging feeling in your core tells you that it will be anything but that.

Your interactions with Donghyun have never simply been about business. The two of you always find yourselves in too close proximity, heated arguments ending up with you getting in each others’ faces or quiet insults whispered between a minimal space. Every attempt that the two of you have made to be cordial and civil just ends in fire and flirtation. So, the two of you have simply stopped trying. You no longer hide behind the guise of business or international affairs, choosing instead to be transparent in your desires to see each other. After all, both of you want nothing more than to push each other’s buttons.

Your suspicions are confirmed the minute you’re let into a swanky penthouse in the financial district of town, a well-known area for foreign ambassadors and their family residences. A sleek black door opens to reveal a shocked face that quickly melts into smugness. Donghyun simply smirks before opening the door wider, motioning for you to come in.

What was supposed to be a business meeting is obviously much more of a house party than anything else. You recognize a few familiar faces: Ricky Shen, the son of the U.S. vice president, Ning Yizhuo, the daughter of your country’s ambassador to China, and even the Yoon brothers, the sons of the Canadian Prime Minister. It seems like all of the children of top officials are here, drinking and chatting idly around the lavish apartment. If you were an outsider, you would laugh, the scene seeming all too much like a shitty movie interpretation of the life of the elite. But you know all too well that this is how it goes.

You’re sure that somewhere, there’s a stash of the world’s purest cocaine for anyone to indulge in. There may even be pills and other harder drugs if anyone wished to partake. The combined net worth of this crowd is well over $1 trillion, and that alone makes them untouchable. They are free to do as they please, simply enjoying the ability to be imperfect while the entire world sees them as the exact opposite.

“I’m surprised you came,” Donghyun whispers, his deep voice much closer than you remember it being.

When you turn, you find yourself almost nose to nose with the man, his greasy smirk still poised on his flawless face.

“I thought we were going to talk business,” you manage out, sounding much more confident than you truly feel. “Didn’t know that business involved so many people.”

Donghyun cocks a perfectly manicured brow. “You wish it was just the two of us, then?”

You can’t help but scoff, instantly reminded of your deep disdain for the man. “I wish you would stop fucking with me, Donghyun.”

A call of the man’s name sounds from somewhere deeper in the apartment, forcing the two of you out of your unintentional bubble. Over your shoulder, you can spot Donghyun’s typical entourage of friends, all beckoning him over with a frantic wave of the hand. Donghyun seems to notice at the same time, sighing deeply before taking a long swig of the beer in his hand. You struggle not to track the movement of his throat as he swallows.

“Well,” he sighs. “Duty calls. Try to have a little fun, sweetheart. You look like you need it.”

The man is gone before you can give him a piece of your mind, leaving you alone in the room full of people. Luckily, they’re all people that you know, having been well acquainted since early childhood. Everyone in this world knows everyone, which leads to a revolving door of familiar faces at every function. As much as you crave novelty, you can’t help but appreciate the familiarity.

Even still, it takes you a couple drinks to relax into the atmosphere. You find yourself giggling and making rounds as you mingle, spending extra time indulging in people that you know push Donghyun’s buttons. As much as you don’t care about the man and his reactions, you can admit how fun it is to see him riled up.

“I swear you get more beautiful every time I see you,” Jake gushes, plush bottom lip trapped between his teeth. “There’s no way you’re still single.”

You shrug, preening under the praise. “I don’t know. I guess I just haven’t found anyone who wants it bad enough.”

Hook, line, and sinker. Jake looks like he’s only a few seconds from devouring you whole, eyes raking your form despite the fact that your outfit reveals nothing. He reaches forward, his fingertips just barely brushing the curve of your waist before you’re snatched backwards. You stumble into a firm chest, the arm wrapped around your waist keeping you steady against the tall figure behind you.

“Sorry to interrupt,” a deep voice mumbles, easily recognizable. “I just need to steal Y/N for a second. Feel free to grab another drink or something in the meantime.”

You can barely register the confusion on Jake’s face before you’re being whisked away, only managing to shoot the boy a quick wave before you’re ushered down a hallway. It’s only once you’re decently far away from the noise of the party that you’re backed up against a wall, Donghyun’s frame leaning over you. He’s far enough that it would seem casual to an outside viewer. But you know that it’s anything but.

“No dating scandals for years, and yet you’re willing to risk it all for Jake Sim?” Donghyun chuckles cruelly. “Didn’t peg you for that type.”

“I didn’t peg you for the type to be all up in my business,” you retort, crossing your arms across your chest defiantly. “You jealous that it’s not you?”

“We both know that it could be…that it should be.”

A sly smirk is poised on Donghyun’s face as he peers down his nose at you, strong arm continuing to cage you against the wall. You could escape if you really wanted to, a clear opening for you to slip by and go about your night. But you don’t really want to, a fact that both of you know.

This is how it’s always gone between you, a perpetual game of cat and mouse. The two of you have spent your entire lives circling each other, just waiting for someone to fall into the other’s trap. And right now, backed against a wall, you realize that this time, you’re the prey. Instead of fear, however, a stinging warmth floods your veins.

“Admit it,” Donghyun whispers, words clearly just meant for the two of you. “I know you just want to say it.”

“Admit what?”

Your voice only comes out as a mere whisper, the wild thumping of your heart making it impossible to focus on your words. Donghyun knows the effect that he has on you, knows that just one smirk sent your way is enough to have you fuming for the rest of the day. He knows how much you think about him, how much you crave him, but he needs to hear you say it.

“Admit that you want me.”

The short command has your breath stuttering in your chest, eyes growing wide. You always enjoyed the push and pull around Donghyun, the game of never quite knowing where the both of you stood. It seems like he does too, always quick to playfully flirt and jokingly fight. But to admit it out loud, that’s something new.

To admit it out loud would be admitting defeat.

“And what do I get if I admit it?”

Donghyun just scoffs, cocky smirk deepening. “Then maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

“And what is it that I want?”

The man leans closer, the scent of his cherry chapstick ever so enticing. You can’t help the way your gaze shoots down to Donghyun’s lips for a brief moment, imagining what it would be like to feel them on your own. It wouldn’t be hard to close the distance, but you know that would mean you lost.

“You want to kiss me so bad.”

The stinging warmth floods your face. Fuck. Knowing that he knows how you feel and hearing him say it are two different things. And the worst part is that he’s right. All you’ve ever wanted to do since the minute you’ve encountered Kim Donghyun is kiss the smirk off his face. And there’s something in the twinkle in his eyes that tells you, for the very first time, he just might let you.

“And if I do?” Your own confidence shocks you.

“Well,” Donghyun murmurs, letting his free hand place itself on the curve of your hip. “Like I said, I just might give it to you.”

Your breath catches on an inhale, the low timbre of the man’s voice shooting electricity through your veins. Everything about Kim Donghyun is so invigorating, so thrilling, that you feel like you could get drunk on his presence. He’s simply addictive.

“I think you’re all talk, Kim,” you bite out, trying your best not to stutter through your sentence. “I think that you’re projecting to hide how much you want me.”

It’s impossible to miss the way Donghyun stares at your mouth as you talk, pupils dilating to expose something deep and raw. His thumb has halted where it was previously drawing mindless shapes into the fabric of your waistband, as if stunned by your words. His pause only lasts for a few seconds before leaning impossibly closer.

“There’s no denying that, sweetheart. Fuck, I want you so bad.”

Hmm, maybe you are the predator after all.

“Then do something about it.”

Donghyun shakes his head almost imperceptibly. “I need you to say it first.”

A rush of heat flashes through your core, making your knees grow weak. Your want for him has never been this bad before, but you’re finding it harder and harder to contain.

“C’mon,” Donghyun coos. “Tell me how bad you want me.”

Your lips remain parted, stuck, as you try to figure out what to say next. You can’t give in to him, but god do you want to. It’s in moments like these when you want to fold, with the warm fan of Donghyun’s breath on your face, his eyes hooded and pupils slightly dilated, and perfectly pink lips trapped between his teeth. You could lose the game, willingly walk into his trap and put an end to all of the years of teasing. With just a few words, you could get everything you have ever wanted.

Luckily, your internal dilemma is cut short as someone emerges from a door down the hall, stumbling their way out. The girl is giggling as she drags her feet along the sleek wooden floors. Despite her sluggish steps, she seems confident in her path towards you and Donghyun, only stopping to place a perfectly manicured hand on Donghyun’s shoulder.

“Donghyun,” she practically whines. “I think Dani drank too much. She’s throwing up!”

At the slur of words, Donghyun sighs, fully straightening up and putting some distance between the two of you. You hate the way that your body instinctively leans towards him, as if magnetized. The man just shoots you an apologetic look before turning to the drunken woman hanging off his shoulder.

“Do you know where she is, Hanni?”

The girl just nods, pointing a finger back in the direction from which she came. Donghyun lets out another sigh before motioning for Hanni to take the lead. He’s quick to follow her, not before sending you a small wink.

Once the two disappear into the room that you assume is the bathroom, you text Hanbin, immediately asking him to pick you up. Suddenly, the night has turned bitter again. Only a honeyed voice could make it return to being sweet.

. . .

If you had a nickel for every time you thought about Kim Donghyun in the following days, you would be swimming in more money than your already wealthy family would ever need.

He haunts your dreams as much as he clouds your waking thoughts. The image of his normally wide, sparkling eyes hooded as they peered down into you is seared into your brain. The flex of his arm feels like it’s been tattooed behind your eyelids as it kept the distance between the two of you, a distance that you had so desperately wished to close.

You can’t help but imagine what would’ve happened if you did, if you were able to admit just how desperately you wanted him. You wonder if the desperation would bleed into the kiss you shared, or if it would be passionate and fiery like the constant bickering between the two of you. Would he continue to cage you against the wall, pressing further into your space until you were pressed flush against his body? Would you be able to feel the hard ridges of his stomach? Would his hips connect with yours as you got lost in the kiss, bodies meeting in a filthy gri—.

“It’s out!” Hanbin all but yells, interrupting your train of thought. “They’re about to air your interview with Kim Donghyun.”

You barely register Hanbin’s words before the television screen in front of you is flickering to life, bathing your face in a warm blue light. The title screen then cuts to the smiling face of the interviewer. The clip is angled so that it looks like she is smiling at both of her guests, but you remember exactly how her gaze was trained on one person only. The memory makes your blood boil.

Hanbin gushes with commentary and compliments as the highlights of the interview are aired on the news. It’s only when they move on to tales of some new humanitarian crisis in Western Europe that the man pulls out his phone, instantly scouring the internet for any mention of you.

“Oh, Y/N,” he mumbles after a moment. “I don’t know if you’re going to love this or hate this.”

“What?”

Hanbin just sighs, handing over his phone. No matter how far you scroll, similar posts keep popping up, all focused on how good you and Donghyun would look as a couple. A queasy warmth overtakes your stomach as you continue to parse through the endless support of the fictional romance between the two of you. A reaction like this would only mean that tabloids will pick up on it soon, which would lead to nothing but more rumors.

You all but shove the phone back into Hanbin’s waiting hands, groaning loudly.

“The press is going to have a field day.”

“It was a simple interview,” Hanbin soothes. “There’s nothing for the press to pick up on. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You and Donghyun just have…chemistry.”

You can’t help but scoff in disbelief. “Chemistry? I fucking hate the guy.”

“No you don’t. Everyone can tell that you don’t.”

Before you can protest, a single buzz of your phone calls your attention. You reach for it with baited breath, just knowing that it’s a family member waiting to chew you out for ruining their global image. Instead, a familiar name flashes on your screen, their text notification inspiring a fresh wave of nausea to overtake you.

The whole world can see it, sweetheart. Why can’t you?

. . .

“Remember to be nice, Y/N,” Hanbin beams, snapping you out of your daydream. “Your parents want you to mingle as much as possible.”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself the same way you do for every public appearance. This is no different, the annual United Nations Gala having been the same every time you attended. You arrive separately from your parents, who must walk the red carpet of the gala before settling in. You, on the other hand, are lucky enough to go through the back, settling into the venue with the other family members of global leaders.

You already know who will be there, and plan to keep to yourself despite Hanbin’s advice to mingle. Well, you’ll keep to yourself unless a certain someone has other plans; he always seems to.

No matter how much you had prepared yourself to see Donghyun, his beauty still takes you by surprise. He looks dashing in his all black suit, perfectly tailored to showcase the breadth of his shoulders and the length of his legs. It’s not too different from his interview outfit earlier in the week, but it stuns you all the same.

What is different, though, is the small smile he shoots you when he catches your gaze. It’s far from the annoyingly cocky smirk that you’re used to, or his diplomatic grin that is constantly plastered over every news outlet. His smile almost seems sheepish, as if he is revealing an embarrassing secret simply by letting the corners of his lips turn up. His rosy cheeks add to his shy and childish demeanor, which you instantly blame on the abundance of alcohol at the event.

You shake your head slightly, as if to physically shake the sight of him out of your head. The only thing you are able to do is turn the opposite way, scrambling towards the nearest table. You shove any thoughts of Kim Donghyun to the back of your mind as you prepare yourself for an excruciatingly long night.

It ends up feeling even longer than you expected. Every so often, you found your thoughts drifting back to Donghyun, back to the deep drawl of his voice or the plush pink of his bottom lip. You banished those thoughts to the back of your mind and forced yourself to pay attention as some foreign diplomat would go on and on about the humanitarian efforts in their country. Then you’d find yourself drifting, Donghyun seeping into your mind and clouding it with a thick fog.

It was a cycle, on and on until eventually the closing remarks were made. You sigh in relief as the program finally comes to a close, thankful for the opportunity to go home and get out of your stuffy attire. Just as you search the crowd for Hanbin, ready to begin your journey home, someone grabs your wrist, pulling you back ever so slightly.

“Not so fast,” a familiar voice calls, their hand spinning you so that you stand nose to nose. “I can’t just let you disappear on me.”

“I’m trying to go home, Donghyun.”

The man lets out a chuckle, as if endeared by your efforts. “No you’re not. You’re coming with me to Keita’s after party.”

“And why would I do that?”

The man finally releases your wrist, choosing to take a step further into your space. You’re suddenly cognizant of all the potential eyes on you. Not only are the press here, putting you in jeopardy of being plastered on the front page of every tabloid, but you’re surrounded by the world’s elite. People talk and rumors travel. The last thing you would want is to bring any sort of bad attention to your family.

“Because you want to,” Donghyun whispers, uncaring about the hundreds of people around you. “Because I want you to.”

“That’s all you want?”

Donghyun chuckles darkly. “Oh sweetheart, that doesn’t even scratch the surface of what I want. So, you coming? My driver is out front.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Hanbin lingering by the door. It should be so easy to say no and go home with your aid. It should be easy to brush Donghyun off and go about your night. But something swims in your stomach at your thought. In the end, you sigh, rolling your eyes before leveling Donghyun with a look.

“Fine. Lead the way.”

It ends up being much harder to feign disinterest in the confines of Donghyun’s car. There’s a partition up, separating you and Donghyun from the driver, providing you an unexpected amount of intimacy. You would think it’s a little presumptuous, if not for the way that Donghyun remains perfectly polite throughout the ride.

You’re expecting some fiery banter or obnoxious teasing, but Donghyun makes simple small talk as you ride through the hustle and bustle of the city. It’s almost as if the boy is being nice. You two have never even begun to venture into nice territory, leaving you at a loss for how to respond. You find yourself craving your normal dynamic of push and pull for the entire time, up until you reach your destination.

Keita’s after party looks like every after party you’ve ever attended, not quite anything special, from the people, to the drugs, to the music. It’s all so cookie cutter. The only thing that is new, however, is how Donghyun keeps you close to his side the entire night.

His hand remains firmly wrapped around your waist as you navigate the party, only releasing you to pour the occasional drink. It’s impossible to ignore the way people look at you, eyes trained on your permanent point of contact as they shoot you knowing smiles. It leaves heat flooding your cheeks the entire night, face stained with a permanent flush that only gets worse as you knock back drinks.

The worst part is that you don’t even hate it. You find it all too easy to melt into Donghyun’s embrace as you chat idly with a few acquaintances. Exchanging soft smiles when he whispers a snarky comment into your ear feels like second nature. As right as it feels, you can’t fight the swirl of conflict bubbling in your core. Whether it’s from the alcohol, or the man by your side, it reminds you just how wrong this should be.

Just hours ago, you were worried about the optics of even speaking to Donghyun. Now, however, you can’t seem to care about the fact that you look like a proper couple, which is all but forbidden in your world. It isn’t until later in the night, when the party is dying down, that you begin to wonder where this all started.

“Donghyun,” you whisper, “what are we doing?”

His soft hum rumbles through his body into yours. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what is all of this?” You motion to where his hand is poised firmly on your hip, unmoving as you both lean onto an adjacent wall. “You haven’t stopped touching me since we got here.”

“Do you not want me to? I can back off…” he trails off, slowly removing any point of contact.

Before he can get far, though, you find yourself reaching out, catching his wrist in a firm grip. It feels like second nature as you guide him back to the curve of your waist, shivering when you feel the heat of his palm through the fabric of your dress.

“No, that’s not—,” you take a deep breath. “Just, why?”

Donghyun seems conflicted for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut as he sighs. When he opens them, his grip on your waist tightens. With a swift tug, you stumble forward, only to stabilize yourself with your palms on his chest. The movement brings you nose to nose, the newfound closeness forcing you to go a little cross-eyed to maintain eye contact.

“Because, fuck, if you won’t admit it,” Donghyun swallows, his throat bobbing enticingly, “I will.”

“What?”

Donghyun’s voice comes out strained, borderline painful as he speaks. “I want you so bad. I haven’t ever wanted anyone as bad as I want you. Fuck, sweetheart, I have for years. And I know you think this is the alcohol talking, but I promise it’s not. Every time I see you and get to mess with you and you flirt back it’s like god. Everything about you is just so amazing and sexy and—,”

Donghyun’s lips remain frozen for a second as you blanket them with yours. It takes a beat, two, three, before his brain resets enough to realize that you’re kissing him. Because you’re kissing him. Kim Donghyun, the man that you hate. You’re kissing him.

You only part a few centimeters, leaving only enough space between your bodies for your mingling breaths.

“I want you, too,” you whisper, voice thick with nerves. “There. I admitted it.”

. . .

The second ride in Donghyun’s car is much less polite than the first. Instead of side by side, you sit straddling the man’s lap, dress hiked up dangerously high. The only seat belt you have is Donghyun’s hands, one firmly grasping at your ass while the other tilts your jaw downwards. Never had you been more grateful for a partition.

Kissing Donghyun is nothing like what you imagined it would be. Instead of the calm, gentle side that he likes to display to the public, this Donghyun is demanding. He licks into your mouth filthily, using his overwhelming strength to keep you exactly where he wants you. He parts every so often to bite into your plush bottom lip, smirking at the soft moans that leave your mouth every time. His kisses are demanding, taking everything he wants from you while giving you everything in return.

It’s only when his kisses trail down to the side of your jaw and neck that they grow more gentle, his plush lips teasing as they ghost over unmarked skin. You’re almost tempted to beg for a mark, to beg for longer lasting proof that this is real.

Donghyun wants you. Donghyun has you.

It’s his hands that dig into the meat of your thighs, grip strong and possessive. It’s his hips that roll up to meet yours in a stunted grind, the rhythm thrown off by the car hitting an occasional pothole. It’s his lips on yours. It’s his blonde strands that remain carded through your fingers.

You have him. You want him.

And for once, you have no problem admitting it.

.FIN.

#starrihan recs #it’s the way I would search so hard to Leehan tags to find this #only to find your masterlists and find out that it’s been right under my nose this whole time #I appreciate you and your writing so much thank you for this wonderful delicious masterpiece #leehan #leehan imagines #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor #boynextdoor fluff #boynextdoor smut #written in the stars #bnd #bnd imagines

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loyasarchivee · 10 days ago

Text

Everything in Between cp2

Introduction: For Leehan, college was supposed to be a time of quiet routine; attending lectures, drinking too much iced coffee, and staying out of unnecessary drama. But life had other plans, or rather, his best friend Taesan, had other plans.

One day, he was just another freshman; the next, he was the guy everyone wanted to know. From meeting the ever-dramatic theater seniors, Jaehyun and Sanghyuk. Along came Woonhak, an overly enthusiastic Engineering major with too much energy and too many wild ideas, and Sungho, a sharp-tongued English major with a love for dramatic storytelling.

Yet, in a place where rumors spread faster than wildfire, and friendships are built on chaotic adventures, staying hidden, finding friendships, growing up and finding true love might just be the hardest challenge of all.

Genre: slice-of-life, college au, friendships, romance

Characters: BND members and original character will be mentioned as the story progresses.

Leehan stood at the mirror, buttoning up a loose shirt as Taesan groaned from the futon behind him.

"Why did I think an 8AM class was a good idea?" Taesan muttered, still half-buried under a blanket.

"Because you signed up for it five minutes before the system closed," Leehan replied, brushing his hair back.

"Don't remind me."

Leehan slipped on his sneakers and grabbed his tote bag from the back of the door. "You coming or not?"

Taesan peeked one eye open. "Do I have time for a five-minute nap before we leave?"

"You've been napping for seven hours. Get up."

Taesan groaned dramatically and rolled off the futon with the grace of a wounded animal. "I swear, I'm transferring to night classes next semester."

Leehan just shook his head and opened the window a little. The crisp morning air crept in—cool, sharp, and filled with the sounds of bicycles, footsteps, and someone blasting music from a balcony two floors above.

"Hey," Taesan said suddenly, pulling a hoodie over his head, "is it weird that I kinda like it here already?"

Leehan paused, glancing around their chaotic but cozy space. "No. Not weird."

Leehan and Taesan had managed to move into their new apartment—a snug, slightly worn two-bedroom flat tucked above a sleepy stationery shop. The floors creaked with every step, the heater made a soft whining noise when turned on, and the kitchen faucet had a mysterious dripping problem that came and went like a ghost. But still, it was theirs. A tiny kingdom of mismatched mugs, late-night instant ramen, and unspoken rules about who had to take out the trash (which, as of now, no one really followed).

Mornings were frantic. The chaos of getting ready for class usually involved Leehan brushing his teeth while Taesan stood half-asleep at the door, complaining about socks gone missing or lectures that started too early. Afternoons meant back-to-back lectures, running between buildings, and eating sandwiches on the go. And when evening rolled in, the two would drag their exhausted bodies to Café Veranda—aprons slung over one shoulder, eyes half-lidded, and caffeine cravings already blooming in their veins.

That particular Wednesday, the air was unusually crisp. Autumn had finally begun to stretch its limbs over the campus, turning the trees into living flames of gold and red. The café smelled like cinnamon syrup and roasted espresso beans when the bell above the door jingled with their arrival.

Leehan stepped in first, yawning into his sleeve. "I swear the lectures are getting longer."

"They're not," Taesan replied, dropping his backpack by the breakroom door. "You're just falling asleep with your eyes open."

Before Leehan could respond, they both froze.

Woonhak was behind the counter, gripping a milk pitcher like it held the secrets to the universe. His usual sunny expression was absent, replaced with a kind of dazed intensity.

"...Uh, Woonhak?" Taesan ventured.

The younger boy blinked rapidly, then looked up. "Oh. Hey. You guys won't believe what happened."

"Try us," Leehan said, hanging up his jacket.

"I met someone."

"You work at a café and go to class. Of course, you met someone."

"No, met met someone. She's in my strength of materials class. I think she might be... different."

Taesan snorted. "They're always different until you find out they're into your roommate."

Woonhak exhaled, setting the pitcher down like it weighed ten pounds. "I'm in love."

Leehan blinked. "It's 5 p.m."

Woonhak, utterly ignoring him. "She has this laugh—like a windchime in spring. Her hands are always covered in ink. She called me dude yesterday."

Leehan arched an eyebrow. "How poetic."

"She's perfect," Woonhak declared, eyes wide with hope and doom in equal parts. "But I don't know how to talk to her. Every time I try, I forget what words are."

"Oh, this is amazing," Taesan said, clapping his hands together. "Step aside, boys. It's time for Operation Heartbreak."

"I think you mean Operation Love," Sungho said from his corner seat, barely looking up from the book he was reading Wilde and the Aesthetics of Loneliness. He sipped his tea and added dryly, "But your name is probably more accurate."

At that moment, the bell above the café door rang again. Jaehyun walked in first, hair tousled and hoodie half-zipped, followed by Riwoo, carrying a camera bag and looking half-curious, half-bored.

"What are you talking about?" Jaehyun asked, strolling in like he owned the place—which, to be fair, he almost did emotionally. He plopped down into a chair backwards, arms slung over the backrest, and shot a look at the group. "You guys look like you're planning a heist."

"Close," Taesan replied with a glint in his eye. "We're planning a romantic intervention."

Riwoo followed, adjusting the strap of his camera bag before setting it down on a nearby table. "Please tell me this isn't another one of your schemes."

"Too late," Leehan said, already wiping down the espresso machine like it had wronged him in a past life. "You walked right into it."

"Woonhak's in love," Sungho supplied, eyes still glued to his book. "It's very tragic. Very Shakespeare meets student loan debt."

"Thanks for the support," Woonhak muttered, cheeks already flushed.

Riwoo raised a brow. "With who?"

"She's in my engineering class," Woonhak mumbled. "She has this way of laughing at circuit diagrams like they're private jokes. Her notes are always a mess. Ink everywhere."

"And she called him 'dude,'" Leehan added, deadpan. "It was a big moment."

"Dude?" Jaehyun repeated, looking impressed. "That's intimate."

"It is," Taesan nodded solemnly. "That's step one in the ancient language of love."

"Step two is ruining everything in public," Sungho said, flipping a page. "Which is where we're heading, apparently."

"I had a plan," Taesan said, hopping behind the counter and pulling out a notepad with dramatic flair. "Step one: Observation. We need intel. Where she sits, who she talks to, what brand of pens she uses, everything."

"She uses Muji," Woonhak said immediately, eyes serious.

There was a beat of silence.

"You're already in too deep," Leehan murmured.

"I hate how confident you are," Riwoo muttered, while eating the muffin.

"Step two," Taesan continued.

"Stage presence. Woonhak, you need to exist within five meters of her and not combust. We're gonna train that muscle."

"I'm not a muscle," Woonhak said, voice high.

"You're all muscle," Jaehyun said, patting his back like he was a prized racehorse. "Anxious, flailing muscle."

"I'll be the girl," Jaehyun volunteered, immediately pulling his hoodie over his head like a wig. "Hey Woonhak," he said in a high, nasal voice. "Can I borrow your calculator? I like your... graphing skills."

"Please stop," Leehan said.

"No, this is gold," Taesan whispered, watching with stars in his eyes.

"I think I'm going to pass out," Woonhak murmured.

"You're doing great," Jaehyun said, still in character. "Now tell me about Kirchhoff's Law, big boy."

"Stop," Leehan repeated louder, scrubbing a cup like it might disintegrate under the pressure.

"You two are insane," Leehan said, throwing a pillow at him.

"We are helping a junior in crisis," Taesan declared. "This is our duty."

"That's still better than Jaehyun's entire high school dating history." Sungho said.

"Hey, I was very popular in high school," Jaehyun protested.

"With the teacher who ran detention," Sungho said, going back to his page.

"Step three," Taesan went on, unfazed, "The accidental encounter. We choreograph the perfect moment somewhere casual. Library? Cafeteria? Maybe outside the engineering building"

"That sounds so creepy when you say it out loud," Riwoo muttered, taking out his camera.

"No," Taesan said, undeterred. "It's called strategic proximity. Write that down."

Jaehyun leaned toward Riwoo. "How long until this turns into a K-drama?"

"It already is one," Riwoo replied. "We're in the mid-season chaos arc."

Woonhak put his head in his hands. "I don't even know her that well. Maybe I'm just... infatuated."

Sungho didn't even look up this time. "Infatuation is love's younger, dumber cousin. Embrace it. He means well."

"She has a boyfriend," Woonhak suddenly added, like dropping a bomb into the center of the café.

Everyone froze.

Even the milk frother hissed in disbelief.

Jaehyun squinted. "Wait, are you serious?"

Woonhak shrugged helplessly. "I think. She mentioned someone named Minjae once."

Taesan dramatically tore the page from his notebook and threw it in the air. "Operation Windchime is officially on hold."

"No, it's not," Jaehyun said. "It's just upgraded to Operation Stealth Mode."

"That sounds morally questionable," Leehan said.

"Everything we do is morally questionable," Riwoo muttered. "You work in a café that charges eight bucks for oat milk."

Sungho gave a long sigh. "I really should've transferred schools."

From the couch, Woonhak beamed. "You guys are the best hyungs ever."

"Don't make it weird," Jaehyun muttered.

"You're all going to scare her away before he even says hello," Sungho sighed, setting down his book. "How is this worse than the time Jaehyun tried to flirt with the girl who was collecting recycling?"

"She smiled at me!" Jaehyun defended. "With both teeth."

"I think she was wincing," Riwoo said.

"And then you tripped over the bin," Sungho added, expression blank. "It was like slapstick from the 1950s."

Woonhak slumped forward onto the counter with a groan. "Maybe I should just focus on my assignments..."

"No way," Taesan declared. "We don't give up on love here."

"So overpriced," Riwoo echoed, pulling out his phone. "Alright, if we're doing this, I'll need a code name for her."

"Call her 'Windchime,'" Leehan said flatly.

Sungho nearly choked on his tea.

"Perfect," Riwoo typed it down. "Target: Windchime."

Maybe Woonhak's crush wouldn't go anywhere.

Maybe it would.

Next day was a crisp morning, the kind that felt like a fresh page waiting to be written on. The sun filtered through the thinning leaves, casting lazy shadows across the benches scattered around the courtyard. Students milled about, chattering, scrolling, sipping coffee from paper cups. Among them sat Woonhak, nervously fiddling with the zipper of his hoodie as he glanced every few seconds at the entrance.

"Okay," Taesan said from behind a bush, not even joking.

"She usually walks through here around 10:15."

Leehan blinked at him. "Are you hiding in shrubbery?"

"Strategic proximity," Taesan whispered, peeking through the leaves like a nature documentary host.

"We need to monitor the encounter from all angles."

Jaehyun lounged nearby on a bench, earbuds in, hoodie up, pretending to be casual. Riwoo had taken position on the second-floor balcony of the adjacent building, camera in hand, not to film, of course, but to "study body language," he claimed. Sungho, meanwhile, sat cross-legged under a tree with a book of poetry and the expression of someone enduring great spiritual suffering.

Woonhak gulped. "What do I even say if she comes by?"

"You say hi," Leehan said flatly, arms crossed.

"That's it? Just hi?"

"Yes. And maybe don't mention her hands or windchimes."

Woonhak looked mildly offended. "Those are good metaphors."

"No," Sungho said without looking up, "they're symptoms of your impending meltdown."

At exactly 10:16, she appeared.

Yejin, tall, smart, perpetually ink-stained from her sketching notes and doodles on math handouts, walked across the courtyard with two friends. Her laugh rang out, and Woonhak sat up straighter like he'd been electrified.

"There she is," Taesan whispered. "It's go time. Hawk is in motion. Repeat, hawk is in-"

"Taesan," Leehan warned, "if you keep talking in code, I will actually leave."

Woonhak stood up.

His legs didn't feel like legs. They felt like chopsticks made of old wood. He forced one foot in front of the other, holding his coffee cup like it might shield him from public embarrassment.

"Hey," he said, voice cracking halfway through the word.

Yejin turned. Her friends kept walking, but she paused, adjusting her bag strap.

"Oh-hi," she said with a small smile.

Woonhak blinked. She had noticed him. This was already leagues beyond his usual progress. He took a breath.

"I, uh, noticed you dropped your pen last class," he said, digging into his hoodie pocket and pulling out a sleek black pen.

Her eyes widened. "Oh my God, I thought I lost that. Thank you!"

He handed it over, his fingers brushing hers just slightly. She tucked her hair behind her ear, clearly pleased.

"I like your jacket," she added, and just like that, she was gone—walking off with her friends again.

Silence.

Woonhak stood there, blinking into the morning light.

"Did she compliment me?" he whispered.

"Mission accomplished!" Jaehyun whooped from the bench, scaring a pigeon.

"I got it all!" Riwoo yelled from above, raising his camera like a trophy.

Taesan popped up from the bush, leaves in his hair. "You absolute legend!"

Leehan looked grudgingly impressed. "Not bad."

Even Sungho gave a slow, sarcastic clap. "Congratulations. You've exchanged two full sentences with a real human female."

Woonhak sank onto the bench, stunned. "She smiled at me. She liked my jacket. She touched my hand."

Jaehyun grinned. "Bro, you're basically married now."

"Don't scare him," Leehan muttered.

Taesan threw an arm around Woonhak's shoulder. "This is just the beginning. Now we enter Phase Two."

"No more phases," Leehan said.

"I'll allow one more," Sungho said, turning the page. "As long as it doesn't involve hiding in shrubbery again."

They spent the rest of their day shuffling between classes. Taesan nodding off during a media studies lecture, Leehan scribbling meticulous notes he'd probably rewrite later, and Woonhak, still floating somewhere between reality and a world where Yejin might one day look at him like he wasn't just background noise in a crowded lecture hall.

By the time the final lecture ended, their feet hurt, their backpacks felt heavier than they should, and all of them were ready for that strange kind of peace that came from their part-time haven.

Now it was time to work, and maybe, in between customers and clinking cups, find a moment to just... breathe.

The bell above the café door jingled softly as they stepped inside. The warm glow of the hanging Edison bulbs greeted them like an old friend. The scent of roasted beans and vanilla syrup wrapped around them instantly, soothing in a way none of their professors' voices had been that day.

Woonhak entered like a man reborn.

"I feel changed," he declared, apron slung over one shoulder like a cape. "Do I look changed?"

"You look like you haven't blinked since morning," Leehan said, sipping his americano behind the counter. "Is that caffeine or delusion?"

"Let him live," Taesan said, tying his apron around his waist with flair. "The man faced the battlefield of love and came back victorious."

Sungho, polishing glasses by the sink, raised an eyebrow. "He returned from a battlefield with a compliment on his jacket and the brush of fingers."

"Which is more than you got from the poetry club mixer," Taesan shot back.

"I wasn't trying to flirt," Sungho replied coolly. "I was analyzing the death of romanticism."

"Maybe that's why you're still single."

"I choose loneliness," Sungho said.

"Keep telling yourself that."

Jaehyun arrived ten minutes late, holding two bubble teas and looking entirely unbothered by time. He handed one to Riwoo, who had already set up his laptop on the staff table and was uploading the footage from earlier.

"I can't believe you filmed that," Woonhak said, hovering over him like an eager fan. "Do I look calm?"

"You look like you're about to faint," Riwoo said, sipping his tea.

"But in a charming way," Jaehyun added helpfully.

Sungho was already there, sitting behind the counter with a cup of matcha and a book that looked denser than any of their required reading. He glanced up as they entered, eyes flicking from their tired expressions to the lovestruck glaze still lingering in Woonhak's.

"You survived," he said dryly, flipping a page. "That's more than I expected."

Taesan dropped his rag behind the counter and sighed dramatically. "Barely. Our boy here nearly confessed his soul after third period."

"I didn't confess anything," Woonhak muttered, tugging his apron over his head. "I just... answered a question. About bread."

"Which you're allergic to," Leehan reminded him, pulling on his own apron with practiced indifference. "That's a strong strategy."

"Bold move," Sungho murmured, "falling in love and dying for it. Very Shakespearean."

The shift began with its usual rhythm, machines hissing, milk frothing, cups clinking gently against saucers. They worked in easy rhythm, no longer thinking about it. Taesan pouring hearts into cappuccino foam, Leehan wiping down the counters with the kind of quiet focus that came from a need to do something, and Woonhak nearly forgetting the order halfway through making a mocha when Yejin's laugh replayed in his head like a song stuck on loop.

The café filled slowly; students with laptops, couples sharing desserts, tired professors grading papers in the corners. The usual lull between rushes offered brief chances to lean against counters, steal sips of each other's drinks, and talk nonsense.

"I'm just saying," Jaehyun said, stealing a cookie from the display, "She laughed, you've got a shot. Girls don't laugh for no reason."

"Maybe she was laughing at me," Woonhak replied, a little too seriously.

"Then make her laugh again," Riwoo called from his table without looking up. "Humor is just survival with flair."

Leehan sighed, resting his chin in his palm as he leaned across the counter. "I thought I signed up for a part-time job, not a romantic comedy."

Outside, the sky deepened into a dusky lavender, stars starting to blink awake. Inside, laughter spilled out between orders, and warmth radiated from every corner not just from the drinks or the lights, but from something quieter, something slower.

Then like fate had pressed enter on a plot twist the door chimed again.

And she walked in.

Yejin.

She looked around, slightly hesitant, until her eyes landed on Woonhak. She smiled. "Oh! You really do work here."

Woonhak froze. "Uh."

Leehan sighed and reached over the counter to gently push Woonhak toward her. "Go," he whispered. "Before your brain turns to static."

Taesan abandoned his tray mid-delivery and ducked behind the pastry case like a spy. Jaehyun elbowed Riwoo. Sungho closed his book with the solemnity of a priest preparing to witness sin.

"I was in the area," Yejin said. "And I remembered you mentioned a café job, so I thought I'd stop by. Also..." She held up a pen his pen. The sleek black one. "I think this one's yours."

Woonhak took it like it was sacred. "Thank you."

A pause.

"Can I get a cappuccino?" she asked, voice soft.

Woonhak blinked. "With...with foam?"

"...Yes?"

"I mean yes! Yes, absolutely. Foam. All the foam you want."

She laughed.

And the sound was just like he remembered, like windchimes in spring.

He turned to the espresso machine, hands slightly shaking. "Guys... how do you make foam again?"

From behind the counter, a dozen fingers pointed and gestured like traffic conductors. Leehan walked over to casually elbow him aside and began preparing the drink, while Woonhak stood there, dazed but smiling.

"She came here," he whispered.

"She came for you," Taesan whispered back dramatically.

"She returned the pen," Jaehyun added. "That's romance novel-level symbolism."

Sungho crossed his arms. "If she writes her number on a napkin next, I'm leaving."

But Yejin didn't write anything, at least not yet. She took her cappuccino with a soft thank-you and a smile just for Woonhak.

"I'll see you in class," she said.

And with that, she was gone.

But this time, Woonhak didn't sit down and swoon.

He just grinned wide, lopsided, and utterly lovesick.

"Guys," he said, "I think I'm doomed."

"No," Leehan said, handing him a towel to wipe the foam he had accidentally gotten on his face, "you're just getting started."

17 notes · View notes

lxvsiick · 2 days ago

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O U R

PART 24 | my eyes are starting to sweat

PART 23 | PART 25

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST [CLOSED]:

@tkooooop @ktzuki @dalliesque @cherrytaesan @crispy-kirby @onedoorland @chnhnyu @nujeskz @txjuns @prettiann @imuziawi @lynnimini @woorcve @swanyvess @ksywoo @heyitzmeg @f4irynono @m1dn1ghtv1olet @pinklemonade34 @livibbu @egojo1st @ilikelikingtoes @httpnhoon @kazemiya @endtostartbreathin @soobinskii @lovelookhard @zynz0 @rikkimura @jsyasubak @sol3chu @shenrickyistheloml @j4d @mydearyeseo @mwahvvis @thealchemy89 @minfolio @saiichai @ihruaz @luvkwh @riizenextdoor @imnotsureokay @bee-the-loser @jeongmie04 @dylanobr1ens @banana-milky @xoxo-sincerely-me @doofus-s @khannythursdaystar @tami1992x @haruharua @slowlylefttyphoon @koocreampie @yuyita-rosier

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rheasforum · 7 days ago

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pairing: Myung Jaehyun (BOYNEXTDOOR) x Reader

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, idol au, secret relationship reveal tease

wc: ~1.3k

⸻

“Wait… hold on.”

Jaehyun squints at the flood of comments flying across the live chat, his lips parting as he tries to read them aloud.

“Is that really you and Y/N in those baby pics?”

“Jaehyun, were you childhood friends with Y/N???”

“Are the photos real???”

Jaehyun freezes, mid-sip of his iced americano. “…Huh?”

“…You guys saw those photos?”

He doesn’t even look mad—just mildly surprised, then quickly amused as he leans back in his chair, laughing under his breath.

Then someone links the tweet.

He clicks it.

And yeah, he’s doomed.

It’s a thread. A whole damn thread.

Photos of you and him at ages 2-6. Holding hands in a stroller. Sleeping next to each other on a bean bag. You hugging Myungjae on the slide with your cheeks smush together in what looks like a daycare classroom while he holds a toy dinosaur.

He stares at the screen. Blinks.

Then just… bursts out laughing.

“Wow. You guys really went full FBI mode?”

He sets his drink down and adjusts the camera.

“Okay, okay. Yes,” he says, finally addressing the chat head-on. “That’s me and Y/N.”

The chat explodes.

Jaehyun grins, running a hand through his hair. “We’ve known each other basically since we were born. Our moms were best friends since middle school, and they got pregnant around the same time—“

He holds up his fingers, indicating the gap. “I’m older by eleven days, though. So technically, I’m the oppa in this friendship, okay?”

He leans in a little, grin spreading. “And don’t let her lie and say she’s the older one. I always had to share my birthday cake first.”

“OH MY GOD, THEY’RE SO CUTE.”

“STOP, THIS IS MAKING ME MELT.”

Your moms had practically planned this, so it was just… natural. You two, in this little bubble that the rest of the world seemed to understand far too late.

A flurry of laughing emojis swarm the chat.

“And since we were born so close in age, our moms used to always bring us to playdates together. We have hundreds of pictures. Some are honestly… embarrassing,” he chuckles, reaching for something offscreen. “Hold on, I think I still have a few…”

He goes quiet for a second, rummaging through a drawer beside him. Fans are still going feral in the chat:

“HE’S LOOKING FOR THE PHOTOS OMG.”

“DON’T DO THIS TO US”

He finally finds it—a small, beat-up photo album, pink and blue with glitter stickers peeling off.

“I kept this,” he mutters with a small smile. “My mom gave it to me when I moved to the dorms. Said it was for ‘sentimental purposes’ and also in case I forget where I came from.”

He opens the album and flips a few pages before holding a photo up to the camera.

It’s a picture of two toddlers—Jaehyun in overalls and a bucket hat, you in pigtails and a yellow dress. You’re holding hands in a sandbox, both grinning with no front teeth.

The next one is even worse (or better): you pecked Jaehyun’s cheek while he looks away flustered with dry tears on his face with a mess of frosting on both your faces from a birthday cake.

“I think this was Y/N’s third birthday,” he says, tapping the corner. “I cried because I thought she liked someone else.”

He pauses, then bursts out laughing at the memory.

“Aigooo, I was such a little jealous kid.”

“HE CRIED OVER HER??? I CAN’T.”

“LMAOO JAEHYUN YOU’RE SO CUTE.”

He waves it off with a crooked smile.

“Anyway,” he continues, “Our moms would leave us in the living room with crackers and toys and just gossip in the kitchen for hours,” he chuckles. “We were basically raised side by side. Like… if I had a memory, she was in it, always.” His fingers fidget with the drawstring on his hoodie. The softest little smile curls at the corners of his lips.

“I AM SOBBING. THIS IS A LOVE STORY.”

“WAIT. SO ARE YOU GUYS STILL CLOSE??”

“JAEHYUN PLS. WE NEED TO KNOW.”

There’s a nostalgic glaze over his eyes now, his voice dropping a bit.

He lifts his eyes again, like the question catches him off guard.

“Yeah,” he says simply. “We’re still best friends.”

“Even when we trained on becoming idols, even when things got busy, we never really… drifted. Not really. It’s like—even when we’re not talking for a few days or weeks, she’s always… there. You know?”

The chat floods with a million variations of “AWWWWW”, “HES IN LOVE,” but Jaehyun’s too busy flipping another photo to notice.

“Oh—this one. This was when we dressed as a bride and groom for Halloween. Our moms made us.” He shows it with a tiny smirk.

And then he says it.

“Our moms always thought we’d be in a relationship someday.”

He lets it hang there. A second. Two. Just long enough to let the implications settle.

He’s still smiling, looking off to the side like he’s remembering something soft.

“Maybe they knew something we didn’t back then,” he mumbles.

The comments have exploded.

“YOU CANNOT JUST SAY THAT.”

“WAITT, WHAT DID HE SAYYYY????”

“IS HE HINTING AT SOMETHING???”

“OMG, DID HE JUST LOWKEY CONFESS?”

He finally notices the chaos and squints at the screen.

“Okay, okay! Relax!” He laughs, raising both hands in surrender. “She’s just my—well… she’s my best friend. That’s all you need to know.”

But then.

His phone buzzes.

He glances at it. Unlocks it. Looks at the screen for maybe two seconds before trying to hide the way his lips twitch upward.

The camera catches it. Everyone sees it.

He presses his lips together, trying to be cool about it, but the corner of his mouth will not cooperate.

He finally glances back at the camera, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“…Okay, I actually have to go.”

The comments:

“YOU’RE KIDDING”

“SIR NO. YOU STAY HERE AND EXPLAIN.”

“WHAT WAS THE TEXT”

“They’re totally not JUST childhood friends, you can tell! 😂”

He’s already standing, hastily grabbing his stuff and slipping the photo album under his arm like it’s something precious.

He sends the camera one last grin. It’s shy. Guilty. Maybe even a little smug.

“I’ll see you guys next time. Thanks for hanging out with me.”

And just before the screen goes black—

His phone lights up again. This time, the camera clearly catches a preview of the message on the lockscreen:

Y/N: “hey baby, come over. i miss you. ❤️”

The stream ends.

And the fandom implodes.

#myung jaehyun imagines #myungjae x reader #myung jaehyun x reader #myung jaehyun #myungjae fluff #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor fanfic #myungjae imagines #myung jaehyun fanfic

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gyurilla · 22 hours ago

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if i say i love you - false alarm!!

pairing: riwoo x afab!reader

synposis: synposis: riwoo accidentally retweets one of your old posts, thinking he's on his spam account. he quickly deletes it, but your friend manages to screenshot it before it's gone. you play it cool, acting like it was no big deal-pretending you haven't secretly had a crush on him for years and thinking it was just a harmless mistake. but riwoo knows it wasn't a mistake

contains: cursing

masterlist

——

—

——

prev | next

reblogs and likes are always appreciated!!

taglist: @pinkiwinkiminki @banez @oowir @viesin @nujeskz @torkorpse @coffee-addict-kitten @8makes1atom @tempewra @jungwonbropls @janjoonty @uncasings @lvlyhiyyih @tkooooop @quinnynation @addictedtoboba @letwiiparkjay @skibidihan @dobbiesvvorld @jvngw0nlvr @conwunder @imma-jiki @koocreampie @totalnieparksunghoon

(the taglist is still open if u wanted to be added!)

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globaloppaaa · 4 days ago

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𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 𓎢𓎟𓎡

i can totally see taesan teasing you, simply for his own satisfaction because he loves seeing you flustered. Just something about the way darling slips off his tongue is so satisfying, though you seem annoyed whenever he calls you it you can’t help but silently beg he says it more. The drill is usually the same: You two are somewhere quiet and calm, like over his apartment watching a movie. He’ll slip an arm over your shoulder, gently moving you against his chest. His other hand finds your chin, tilting it upwards so that your lips are mere inches apart. And in his raspy, quiet voice he’ll tell you his hearts’ strongest feelings.

“you know I adore you, darling.”

which is why it takes you by complete surprise when you hear your special name in a completely different setting. Taesan’s friends decide to get together one night, gaming to their hearts content. Naturally you figured he’d want to spend some time alone with the guys, particularly because you were both aware of their habits to tease even the slightest sight of affection from one of you. But when Taesan stops you just as you’re about to head home, tugging at the sleeve of your shirt. He mumbles something you can’t quite hear, and when he repeats himself you finally view the faint blush on his cheeks. “i want you to stay.” How could you ever refuse?

you say your hello’s when the boys arrive, opting to make a separate space for yourself to let them have their fun, but taesan’s quick to catch you withdrawing. He takes your hand gently and guides you to the space beside him, ultimately squeezing jaehyun out of his spot on the couch. jaehyun watches this gesture with a questionable look, before chuckling under his breath. “excuse me for getting in the way of true love.” Normally Taesan would make some whitty remark, teasing him for not having a girlfriend of his own, yet he just relishes in the feeling of being next to you this time, leading you to answer the other boy with a shrug.

After hours of laughter and never-ending conversations, leehan suggests running to the store to grab something to eat. You catch the way your boyfriend hesitates, a lingering hand resting on your thigh, but the peer pressure from his friends gets the best of him as they head towards the door. He looks at you, and you swear he’s almost pouting, before he stands up and leans his face above yours. “I’ll be back soon, okay darling?” Your eyes widen, as he flashes you his most dashing smile. He pecks you on your lips before catching up to his friends, who begin cooing at the poor boy for simply loving you so much.

reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated!

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nicholasluvbot · 11 days ago

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WARMㅤ ◞ ㅤ前 ✿ ❜ㅤㅤ── 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂'𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗈𝗐𝗇, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 ｡

GUIÓN, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗒 !

𝒇 ! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋ㅤ 𖥔 ㅤ1700 ㅤ ❛ 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉ㅤㅤ ─── 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉ㅤㅤ 🥐ㅤ ㅤ𝖣𝖮𝖲𝖲𝗂𝖤𝖱

◜ᴗ◝ ✿ㅤ:ㅤ𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽

(재현) 𝖬𝖸𝖴𝖭𝖦 𝖩𝖠𝖤𝖧𝖸𝖴𝖭

jaehyun is lying on your bed like he’s got no bones, limbs sprawled out messily, one foot hanging off the edge, hoodie sleeves bunched up around his elbows. his head is tilted just slightly, eyes following your every move like he’s watching a movie he never wants to end.

you’re not even doing anything remotely interesting—just folding laundry, fixing your hair in the mirror, humming under your breath. but to jaehyun, it’s like the whole world slowed down just to spotlight you.

“stop staring,” you murmur, without looking at him.

“can you blame me?” he says, soft and lazy, and you roll your eyes. he just smiles.

a few seconds pass. then, quietly, he reaches out a hand—fingers curling around your wrist like an invitation.

you let him pull.

you fall forward with a laugh, catching yourself just before you land fully on him, but jaehyun’s already wrapping himself around you like a vine. arms around your waist, legs hooking around yours, face buried in the crook of your neck.

“you looked too pretty,” he murmurs, voice low. “couldn’t help it.”

you let out a breathy laugh, arms bracing yourself on either side of his shoulders. “you’re so clingy.”

“mhm,” he hums. “you say that like it’s new.”

you don’t try to fight it, just melt into his arms, your nose brushing his temple as you whisper, “you’re not gonna let go, are you?”

he shakes his head, nose bumping against your neck. “never.”

after a few minutes, you try to wiggle out of his arms—but he just tightens his hold, trapping you between his legs. you groan, but immediately give in.

“you’re really annoying,” you say, but there’s no real bite to your words.

he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “you love it.”

you do.

you really, really do.

(성호) 𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖲𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖧𝖮

you’re mid-conversation with a friend when you suddenly feel it—an arm sliding around your waist, the weight of a chin resting on your shoulder.

you turn your head, blinking—sungho? he’s not usually like this, especially not around other people. but here he is now, pressed up against you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“you okay?” you ask softly.

he doesn’t answer. just hums and tightens his hold on you, shooting your friend a perfectly polite smile. but there’s something smug in his eyes too—like he’s making a point.

you’re starting to piece it together when your friend finally leaves after muttering an awkward excuse. sungho lets out a quiet sigh against your neck.

“you jealous?” you tease, turning in his arms.

“maybe a little,” he says, not even trying to deny it. “i don’t know… i just saw him looking at you like he wanted your number.”

you don’t tease him for it. instead, you smile, warmth blooming in your chest as you lean into him a little more, fingers brushing where his rest on your waist.

“you could’ve just said you missed me.”

“would’ve been less effective,” he murmurs, his nose brushing your cheek as he presses a few lingering kisses along your jaw.

you don’t push him away, and he shows no intention of letting go anytime soon, paying no mind to the people around you. and for the rest of the day, he stays close—his arm brushing against yours, fingers laced through yours—like he’s not quite done being mad cute.

(리우) 𝖫𝖤𝖤 𝖱𝖨𝖶𝖮𝖮

you wake up to the scent of early morning—cool air, faint sunlight peeking through the curtains—and the feeling of something warm and heavy draped around your waist.

your first instinct is to stretch, but you can’t. you’re being held in place.

when you blink your eyes open, the sight that greets you is enough to make your heart ache in the gentlest way: riwoo, still deep asleep, face tucked into your shoulder, nose brushing your collarbone, arms locked securely around your body like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this world.

his hair’s a little messy, hoodie slightly rumpled, lips parted just barely as he breathes softly against your skin. he looks peaceful. too peaceful.

you shift ever so slightly, trying not to wake him—but even that tiny movement makes his brow twitch in protest. you pause. then try again, gently peeling the blanket back.

bad idea.

he lets out the tiniest, grumpiest noise—something between a sigh and a whine—and immediately tightens his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest.

“riwoo,” you whisper, voice barely above a breath. “i need to get up.”

“five more minutes,” he mumbles, voice rough and muffled against your shoulder. “s’cold out there. stay warm with me.”

you huff a quiet laugh. “you’re such a baby.”

“am not,” he grumbles, still clearly half-asleep. “i just… like this.”

he says it so simply, like he’s explaining why the sky is blue. like being wrapped around you like a human blanket is the most natural thing in the world.

you glance down at him, only to find his eyes cracking open—just barely. sleep still clouds them, but the way he looks at you makes your chest tighten.

“ten minutes,” he murmurs, already nuzzling into you again. “maybe forever. just… don’t leave yet.”

you don’t answer. you just slip your arm around him in return, pressing your face into his hair and closing your eyes again.

(태산) 𝖧𝖠𝖭 𝖳𝖠𝖤𝖲𝖠𝖭

it starts when you cancel plans with taesan. just a quick text: “sorry, can’t make it today. something came up.”

you meant to follow it up, but time slips by, and you forget. you don’t notice his silence until hours later, when you’re walking up to your house and see taesan sitting on your porch—head hung low, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands. his head lifts the moment he hears you call out his name.

“hey,” he says, but his voice is quieter than usual, a little hesitant.

“taesan? what are you doing here?”

he shrugs. “wanted to see you. you didn’t answer.”

you blink. “oh—i… i forgot. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to worry you—”

he doesn’t say anything. just takes a step forward and wraps his arms around your waist, like it’s the only way to make sure you’re not mad at him. you try to laugh it off, not used to his clinginess, but he doesn’t budge. instead, he tucks his cold nose against your neck, like he’s trying to soak in all your warmth.

“i missed you today,” he mumbles, his breath tickling your collarbone.

you pull him inside, and he doesn’t let go—not even for a second. not when you’re unlocking the door, not while you’re kicking off your shoes. you end up half-walking to the couch with him still glued to your side, arms looped tight around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

he melts into you entirely when you sit down, arms still locked around your middle, pulling you closer like he’s trying to make up for all the time he didn’t get to hold you today.

eventually, he murmurs, “don’t cancel on me again without telling me why.”

you press a kiss to his cheek. “i won’t.”

but you probably will, if it means you get him all cuddly like this.

(이한) 𝖪𝖨𝖬 𝖫𝖤𝖤𝖧𝖠𝖭

you’ve seen leehan tired before—after all-nighters, post-practice, sometimes when he forgets to sleep properly before a trip.

but today’s different.

he shows up at your house in the evening, hoodie zipped up, dark circles under his eyes, and a shy smile that doesn’t quite reach yet.

“hey,” he says, voice scratchy. “can i stay for a bit?”

you nod immediately, pulling him inside before he can explain or make excuses. he’s running a low fever—you realize it the second he leans into you, eyes closed, skin too warm.

you start fussing—getting him water, meds, a warm blanket, dimming the lights—and he just watches you from the bed, lips parted slightly, like he doesn’t know what to say.

“you should’ve told me,” you scold softly, kneeling beside the bed and running your fingers gently through his hair. “you didn’t have to come all the way here.”

his fingers brush against yours. “i know… i just didn’t want to bother you.”

later, when he’s tucked under your blanket, warm and drowsy, you think he’s fallen asleep.

but then you feel him shift, reaching for your arm. he tugs gently, eyes barely open.

you hesitate—only for a second. but when you slip under the blanket beside him, leehan immediately curls into you, arms winding around your waist, nose tucked into your shoulder.

“you didn’t have to take care of me,” he murmurs, “but you did.”

“you’d do the same for me,” you whisper, brushing your fingers through his hair.

“i would,” he agrees, already half-asleep, voice fading. “but i still think i’m the lucky one.”

(운학) 𝖪𝖨𝖬 𝖶𝖮𝖮𝖭𝖧𝖠𝖪

it’s late, way too late. you’re standing at the door of woonhak’s room, backpack slung over your shoulder, jacket already zipped. the room is dim, lit only by the warm glow of his desk lamp. and he’s standing there, pouting.

“you’re really leaving?”

you laugh. “yes, woonhak. it’s late.”

“but i just got you to myself,” he says, walking toward you slowly. he stops right in front of you and lets his head fall onto your shoulder, arms sliding around your waist. “we barely got to do anything.”

“you dragged me into three different board games.”

“yeah, but i wanted to cuddle.”

you roll your eyes affectionately. “you can’t make me lose five rounds of uno and then ask for cuddles.”

“yes i can,” he whispers, arms tightening around your waist like a little kid. “just stay five more minutes. please?”

“woonhak…”

he looks up at you, lip jutting out slightly. “if you leave now, i’ll miss you the whole night.”

that’s the thing about woonhak—when he wants you close, he really wants you close. he’s a flirty, playful loudmouth with everyone else, but with you? he softens. and you give into his wants every single time.

he presses his forehead against yours, like it’s the only way to make time slow down.

“please…?” he pleads, one more time.

you sigh, defeated, and drop your bag to the floor.

his whole face lights up.

“i love you,” he beams, pulling you straight into his arms and wrapping himself around you like a koala, dragging you to his bed. “just until you really have to go,” he murmurs, face buried in your shoulder—and you can feel him smiling against your skin.

you won’t leave for another hour.

ㅤ𝗇𝖾𝗍𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 ◞ @kstrucknet @k-films @sgz-net

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ihangelic · 3 months ago

Text

BND WHEN YOU KISS THEM MID-ARGUMENT

pair ; boynextdoor (legal line) x gn!reader genre ; fluff, barely-there angst warnings ; established relationship, silly arguments, couple shenanigans, petnames wc ; 2k (abt 400 words each)

✉️ 𓂃 ₊˚⊹ note ; mb by @/aeriinwonderland

! . . . COPYRIGHT OF IHANGELIC

𝒥aehyun. . .

it’s not like you and your soft hearted boyfriend were prone to arguments, but today was a mix of stressors for the both of you that made for a perfect storm.

a grumpy look from jae, a snippy comment by you, and the next thing either of you knew, you’d been arguing for the last few minutes. (like ten minutes tops, but that’s long for you two.)

when you see the telling sign of tears in your boyfriend’s eyes, you know it’s gone too far; even if you’re only lightly bickering about who was the one to leave the tub of ice cream out on the counter to melt. (🍡 — continued under cut)

your boyfriend is as tough as a stuffed puppy: all soft on the inside, made for love and snuggles. he’s not used to arguing with you and he absolutely hates it.

your heart fills with guilt, and that small fire burning in your chest, fueling the argument— it’s snuffed out without a seconds notice.

jaehyun doesn’t even notice you walking closer (probably thanks to his unshed tears blurring his vision) until you’re wrapping your arms around his middle.

acting on pure instincts and the overwhelming need to make your baby feel better, you press a soft kiss on his lips, lingering for a long moment before pulling away with a small sound that has jaehyun’s stomach fluttering.

“wh— what…?”

he doesn’t even let himself come up with a complete thought or conclusion, his eyes instead dropping to your mouth before pulling you into another kiss.

and that second kiss turns into butterfly pecks all over his cheeks, which gets your myungie all giggly, making you laugh a little yourself— especially with how he returns the attack, peppering his lips all over your face and making you ticklish.

“i’m sorry, baby. i was being immature and i wasn’t even thinking about how i could be hurting you until i saw you tearing up.”

“s’okay,” he hardly manages to say between his ministrations. “i was being dumb too. n’ you made me all better now.”

jaehyun finally pulls away from your face enough for you to see the adorably happy smile on his lips, causing you to react in a similar fashion as you giggle and fondly shake your head.

“you’re such a sucker for kisses, aren’t you?”

(after that, receiving kisses by your boyfriend in the middle of an argument or whenever one starts brewing is a regular occurrence, and it works like a charm every time. <3)

𝒮ungho. . .

(surprised cat number one.)

you were having what could hardly even be called an argument with sungho in the middle of the kitchen after you just cleaned it.

your chores are split 50/50; so when sungho walked into the room and saw missed, messy areas untouched, he didn’t find it very fair.

his tone is honestly rather gentle, and he never will raise his voice at you— but as he picks up a ‘clean’ spoon to show you the spots still left on it, notices you didn’t rinse the sink out after washing the dishes, and sees that you didn’t spray down the counter— it just snow balls from there.

you can tell he’s getting frustrated when his face tenses and his soft lecture turns into mumbled rambles, more to himself than you.

you want to tell him that you’re sorry, that you were just kind of going on autopilot and not paying close enough attention to how well you were actually cleaning— but you’re unable to get a word in or for him to actually hear you over his own thoughts as he continues fussing over things in the kitchen.

then you’re struck with an idea, a lightbulb over your head; it definitely might be cheesy, but you have a feeling it will work.

before you can sike yourself out of doing it, you walk up to sungho and cup his face into your hands.

his eyes widen in surprise before you’ve even completed the main mission, and when you lean forward to kiss his lips, a soft gasp escapes them.

his hands move to hold your waist, even though he hasn’t been able to process what’s happening yet— all he knows is that you’re kissing him (and he really likes when you do that).

the kiss is sweet and lingering, sungho’s hands eventually moving to hug you against his chest as he comes back to his senses.

even when you finally pull away, his hold on you never falters.

“did you just use a drama tactic on me to make me shut up?” he asks, expression somewhat shocked as his brows are raised, yet he has an amused smile and fond eyes while he looks at you.

“yeah.” you admit smugly. “did it work?”

(spoiler alert: it definitely did.)

𝑅iwoo. . .

if you and your boyfriend are arguing, it’s most likely the two of you worrying about the other’s wellbeing and health.

for instance, if there’s a cold wind outside and you’re about to go out for a walk together, riwoo always picks up your coat from the hook to put it on you— but the problem is, you don’t always want to wear it.

“riwoo, it’s not even that cold. we’re gonna be walking around and then i’ll get too hot.”

“baby, you need to wear it!” 🥺

he speaks in pout, trying to convince you with his cute face and pleading eyes. “you know if you get too warm in it i’ll just carry it for you.”

your ‘arguing’ (which most onlooker would think is really cute and comparable to a married couple) would continue from there, until riwoo finally decides to try and wrangle you into his arms and put the coat on you.

you’re both giggling and struggling against each other— and if you’re being completely honest— you’re not really putting up much of a fight, on account that you secretly enjoy riwoo fussing over you.

finally he manages to hang the coat over your squirmy shoulders and wraps his arms around yours, putting you ‘in prison’ as he calls it, to keep you from just shrugging it off.

you give a bratty huff, and in an act of defiance and ‘revenge’, smack a kiss on riwoo’s unsuspecting lips.

it’s done before anything hardly had the chance to start, you quickly pulling away, pretending that you’re not super shy and kinda embarrassed at your own actions.

riwoo is also shocked, his cheeks pink and eyes wide as he stares at you.

but it only takes a few seconds for him to clue back in, lips curving into an adoring smile, because he utterly adores you.

“…why did you pull away so soon, baby?” he asks, and a moment later he’s pulling you even closer to press his lips to yours, the kiss lasting for a lot longer— and deeper.

you get so lost in his kiss that you don’t even think to protest how he pulls the coat up your arms and zips it up— until he pulls away with a sneaky laugh, pointing childishly at you as he teases.

(and despite you ‘losing’ the argument, you can’t find in yourself to care. he’s just too adorable.)

“i got you! now come on!” he smiles, and you can’t help but smile too, letting him take your hand and lead you out the door to begin your walk together.

𝒯aesan. . .

(surprised cat number two.)

taesan is a good boyfriend and doesn’t get mad super often, but there is little pet peeves he has; if you manage to do one of those things on the list, it’s hard for him to not get a little upset about it.

the thing is, you’d almost rather have him nagging at you for whatever you’ve done to offend him, but most times he doesn’t; rather, he’ll opt to give you the silent treatment or avoid you.

(and by ‘avoid’, i mean he’s gonna pout and mope around rooms he knows you’re residing in, never directly talking or interacting with you but clearly hoping you’ll look his way and pay attention— because he’s kinda just a huge baby; as much as he refuses to admit it, he likes being fussed over by you.)

“love, just tell me what’s wrong.” you ask, tone lightly whined. but (shocker!), he ignores you.

it keeps going like this, you begging for taesan to just tell you what’s wrong and him not answering, until finally he turns around to look you right in the eyes— and then the words flow like a dam bursting.

his tone isn’t mean, he’s just clearly bothered— and you try; you try really hard to take him seriously and listen to his complaint…

but he’s just so cute when he’s angry. 🤭 (like bfr. we’ve all seen that clip of taesan being ‘mad’ at leehan. he looked absolutely adorable and not scary at all, like a kitten that just got wet and is pouting about it.)

and as his rambling just keeps going, you hold on until you can’t resist anymore, grabbing him by the arms and planting a kiss on his lips.

and although he still has many things to say 😤☝🏼, he still returns this kiss, lips moving sweetly against yours when he realizes what’s happening.

when you pull away, you expect him to be smiling— but instead, he looks even more angry then before.

that’s when you start actually getting a little scared.

“wow. you’re really just gonna interrupt me when i’m talking like that?”

“i— i’m sorry, taesan. i was trying—“

before you can finish, he’s pulling you into his arms and kissing you with fever, confusing you even further.

but when you feel his lips smile against yours as he kisses you, you realize that he wasn’t ever actually mad all along. 🥹

𝐿eehan. . .

hannie is just sooo not the argumentative type, so that means it’s you who’s the problem! 🫵🏼 (jk, but also kinda fr.)

if there’s an argument it’s usually going to have to be started by you, simply because leehan is not very confrontational at all, and he’s rather easy to please and be at peace with.

he doesn’t really have any issues with you because he’ll bring it up before it becomes one. on top of that, it’s very rare for him to show frustration (and practically non-existent in the realm of possibilities when it comes to you) because it doesn’t really go along with his nature.

but with that said— he’s human, and he has bad days too.

you got upset with him over something and it turned into an argument; debatably a one sided one— or at least it seems like that when you’re the only one getting mad and hannie’s just sitting there quietly listening.

it’s not until you look over at him again and see his furrowed brows and soft eyes— which appear clearly upset by your strong, opposing opinion— that you finally realize you’re hurting his feelings.

and then your heart sinks, the argument completely worthless and stupid now as you stare at leehan’s shiny eyes, downtrodden with sadness. 🥺

and the way he’s just sitting there quietly makes you feel all the more awful.

so you hurry over to him and cup his cheeks to press a delicate kiss to his lips, desperately wanting to make him feel better and wipe that heartbroken look off his face immediately.

when you pull away from his lips, he gawks at you with a deer in headlights look, not saying anything at all.

it makes you feel a little awkward and unsure of if you did was the right thing, so you ask—

“um— did that…work?”

he pauses for a while longer before humming deeply. “i don’t know. maybe…try again?”

that makes your stomach flutter with hope, and you do as he says in an instant, giving a peck to his forehead.

“and..here?” he asks, boba eyes looking at you adorably while pointing to his left cheek.

then it’s his right cheek— then his nose— then his lips again, until finally you burst into giggles at the continuous loop.

“i’m sorry, baby. i was being a jerk. i’ll try to be more careful expressing myself next time.”

“it’s okay,” he smiles, all happy and calm and perfectly content as he gazes at you with the most loving eyes.

“but…” he hesitates, and you give him a look of encouragement to continue his sentence.

“does this mean you’re changing your mind about us having an underwater wedding?” 😃

“no, leehan! i’m not getting married to you in scuba gear!”

taglist ; @yuzuksi @aeminju (if you’d like to be added, removed, or change what type of content you’re tagged in, dm me! <3)

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