#dark side of idol hell

[ashitomarisu]

Of course, being reminded of Shikaco's gravure past...

[tvseries-writings]

Takedown

Polytrix x reader (Kpop Demon Hunters)

Prompt: When Rumi falls victim to a devastating panic attack triggered by a demon who takes the shape of someone from her past, you throw yourself in to protect her, only to be struck brutally in the head. Your girls panic.

TW: fainting, passing out, panic attack.

Being an idol means sacrifice, passion, commitment. Being an idol is difficult, scary, but it also means bringing something to the world, and as Huntrix, that is your destiny. Idols by day and hunters by night, demons sliced by your blades and stolen kisses between kills, while the Honmoon grows stronger with every blow you strike.

Celine took you under her wing at the same time Zoey and Mira were recruited. Then you met that little girl with purple hair and a shy gaze, with deeply sad eyes, and your innocent feelings, over the years, with success, with sleepless nights spent defeating demons and rehearsing songs, had turned into a feeling so pure and powerful that every caress you gave her strengthened the Honmoon, though hidden from everyone's eyes except yours.

As hunters, your job was to defeat demons; as Huntrix, your job was to dominate the stage, hiding the diversity of a pure but unconventional love like yours, a bit like you. Rumi's "tattoos," the scars on your arms, Mira's past, Zoey's insecurities... a hymn to diversity itself, a hymn to yourselves.

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you look at what is supposed to be your new seamstress for the new tour.

"Okay, you're literally holding the needle the wrong way around, and you're supposed to be our seamstress... you're a demon, aren't you?"

"What? No, I don't know what you're talking about, I..."

You uncover her arms, revealing the typical marks and shaking your head in disapproval.

"I don't understand why you keep doing this. You should have figured it out by now. First learn the craft, then come to Earth. It should be easy, yet you idiots keep making the same mistakes over and over again. It's getting tiresome."

You snort in boredom, making the four shuriken (ninja stars) appear in your hands. You twirl them between your fingers and, as you watch the now-transformed demon in front of you, you notice three other brutes joining the party out of the corner of your eye. Rumi, Zoey, and Mira should be coming through that door any minute, but until then, you'll have to fend for yourself.

"If most of you weren't so stupid as to not even learn human customs and traditions, I'd almost feel sorry for killing you. Almost."

The seamstress demon attacks you, but you easily dodge it, letting one of your stars stick into its forehead, turning it to dust. You hear Zoey's voice echoing in the hallway, turn toward the door, and see familiar purple hair peeking into the room. The distraction is enough for one of the three remaining demons to throw you against the wall, hitting your head so hard that you see nothing but darkness for a few minutes.

Rumi is the first to spring into action, conjuring her saingeom and running towards you, but the demon that hit you blocks her path. Before any of the three of them can finish it off, turn it to dust, and send it back to the hell it came from once and for all, it transforms into Jinu, and Rumi freezes. The saingeom slips from her hands, crashing to the floor with a loud thud; the hunter falls to her knees and Zoey and Mira quickly rush to her side, while four more demons emerge from a crack in the ceiling.

"Rumi! It's not real, it's not really Jinu!"

Zoey grunts as three of her shin-kal pierce a demon's throat.

"Rumi! Get up!"

"They know what you are, Rumi. Your secret has been revealed, your marks are shining—"

The Jinu demon smirks as he moves closer, and Mira strikes him in the calf with her gok-do, causing him to stumble back a few steps.

"Don't you dare touch her."

Her eyes burn with fire, her hands clenching the gok-do with such force and rage that her knuckles turn white.

In the chaos, you finally regain consciousness. The demons have almost tripled in number in the room, and your eyes immediately fall on the hyperventilating figure of one of your girls. With a grunt, you stand up, make the shuriken reappear in your right hand, and start killing as many demons as possible—considering your current aim, very few—in a desperate attempt to reach Rumi before the situation worsens.

Mira and Zoey glance at you briefly before returning to the fight. They are concerned but unable to assist you at this moment.

You collapse to your knees in front of the purple-haired girl, ignoring the throbbing in your head as you gently caress her cheeks.

"Rumi, my love, look at me."

She doesn't answer you, she doesn't even look at you; her chest rises and falls at an alarming rate and your heart sinks at the sight. A demon approaches and you barely have time to strike him, a second before he hits you. Out of the corner of her eye, Mira notices two of your shuriken missing their target, and her stomach clenches. You never miss your target, never, under any circumstances. Something is wrong.

"Rumi, it's okay, Jinu is free, it's not your fault. We love you, we know about your marks, and we love you. Love, please, breathe with me."

You grab one of her hands and bring it to your chest, deliberately exaggerating your breathing to get the other girl to follow suit.

"Breathe, love, breathe; that's it, good girl."

You hold her in your arms, she's still shaking, but now the broken gasps she was making a few seconds ago are deeper and less raspy. That's enough for now.

"It's okay, it's okay, we love you, all of you. There's not a single part of you that we don't love, Rumi."

Your girlfriend clings to your arm, holding on to it as if it were her anchor, and in that fleeting moment you notice a demon running towards you. Mira and Zoey notice it too, but they are too far away to reach you.

"Rumi, watch out!"

You scream, pushing her out of the way. You summon two shuriken but miss the target, summon two more but your vision blurs; you don't see it coming, you don't even hear it. You can barely hear the muffled screams of Mira, Zoey, Rumi... The demon hits you with a dull thud on the back of your head and the world explodes into a painful red and white blur, like a camera flash projected inside your skull.

You stagger forward, then backward, your knees buckling like wet paper under your weight, the shuriken slipping from your hands and falling to the floor.

A high-pitched buzzing whistles in your ears. The lights become blurred, overlapping. You bend forward, one hand on your head and the other desperately searching for something to hold on to. But there is only air, and you fall. The floor welcomes you with unexpected violence, and the moment your temple hits the marble, you lose consciousness.

"Shit, shit, shit. Y/n!" Zoey screams, turning around for just a second before a demon attacks her, forcing her to look away from you.

"Rumi! Rumi, you have to take care of her, we'll take care of the demons."

The purple-haired girl hurries over, takes your face in her hands, and brushes the sweat from your forehead.

"Y/n, love, love, wake up, you have to wake up."

Her slender fingers frantically slide over your wrist, searching for a pulse. Then she lifts your eyelids, checking the responsiveness of your pupils. Her fingers tremble, her chest hurts, the consequences of the panic attack are taking their toll.

Meanwhile, the room has become a Dantean circle, filled with demonic screams and sliced flesh, turned to dust. Zoey advances like a bullet, using her concern for you as a trigger, the shin-kal are like liquid tentacles that tear and divide the demons. Next to her, Mira moves with awkward and brutal elegance: a gok-do strike, a sharp blow, a growl—on her part, of course—and another demon implodes under her weapon.

Rumi remains kneeling, her eyes unable to tear themselves away from your unconscious form, her hands wandering over your body, tears streaming down her face.

"Love, wake up."

The purple-haired girl leans over you and rubs her knuckles hard on your sternum; Celine had taught you that this technique was one of the fastest ways to revive an unconscious person. A small moan escapes your lips as you blink, trying to focus your vision.

For a single, terrible moment, you don't remember where you are, but then a glance at Rumi's worried, tear-stained face and the sound of Mira and Zoey's weapons cutting through the air in the room bring you back to reality.

"The demons! We, I..."

You try to get up, or at least sit up, but Rumi shakes her head, her eyes wide as she pushes her hands against your chest to keep you lying on the floor.

"No! No, don't try that, take it easy. You have a concussion and I still have to check your head."

Her voice trembles, tears still streaming down her cheeks, and despite the pain in your head, you sit up and hug her.

"You did well, love, everything's fine, breathe okay? Keep breathing for me."

You glance at Mira and Zoey and realize they won't make it on their own.

"Rumi, hey, listen to me; I have to help them, you sing, repair the crack."

You caress her cheek, smile at her, and then slowly approach her, leaving a sweet kiss on her lips before summoning your shuriken, joining your other two companions.

You grit your teeth and ignore the pain, praying that your body will hold out a little longer before finally giving way.

I don't think you're ready for the takedown

"Zoey, get down!"

One of your shuriken sticks into the throat of the demon that was about to attack the lyricist from behind and dissolves it into dust.

"Y/n! You should rest, sweetheart, don't stay here fighting."

Zoey approaches you, killing another demon and watching you do the same.

"You needed help, Rumi..."

Break you into pieces in a world of pain, 'cause you're all the same

You exchange glances, you don't need to speak. You both know you'll have to talk to her once this is all over.

Yeah, it's a takedown

"Y/n!" Mira quickly approaches you, and her relieved gaze rests on you, "you should-"

"...Rest, I know, I know. But I'm having so much fun killing these assholes."

You smile playfully as another of your shuriken sends the last demon in the room to the other world.

A demon with no feelings, don't deserve to live, it's so obvious

"Thankfully they're gone, I was getting tired."

Mira snorts, rolling her eyes, and makes her gok-do disappear with a wave of her hand. You and Zoey do the same with your weapons, and then all three of you turn to Rumi. She is still kneeling on the ground. She is out of breath from singing and most likely as a result of her earlier panic attack.

You nod to them, miming "go to her" with your lips.

"Hey sweetie, how are you feeling?"

Zoey sits down beside her, stroking her arm and trying to catch her eye, and Mira does the same; she sits down behind her and hugs her, resting her chin on her right shoulder.

"I-I'm fine, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I-it's my fault, I shouldn't have let-."

"Rumi, hey, hey, it's okay. It's not your fault, sweetie, it's not your fault."

You say and take a step towards them, focusing solely on changing your sweet and innocent Rumi's mind. A wave of dizziness hits you and the pain intensifies rapidly.

Without the hand that was supporting you against the wall, the only reason your body hasn't collapsed to the ground until now, your legs give way and your vision blurs. Your knees hit the floor, and your head would have too if it weren't for Zoey's lightning-fast reflexes.

"Y/N!"

Their cries are muffled sounds, as if you were underwater; you're not completely unconscious, but you're not fully aware of what's going on around you either.

"Honey, honey, wake up."

Zoey shakes you by the shoulders, her lips trembling as she struggles not to cry. You are pale, your chest rising and falling too slowly for her liking, and the terrified look on Mira's face tells her that the situation is serious.

"Zoey, Zoey, you have to be gentle. Check her head, see if she has any bumps, okay?"

The redhead is still holding the purple-haired girl in her arms, preventing her from falling apart and blaming herself for what happened. That's the last thing she needs right now.

The rapper's hands wander through your hair, finding not one but two bumps, one of which is bleeding.

"Damn, she's bleeding, shit,"

Zoey mutters, then tears off a piece of her uniform and presses it against the cut on your head.

"M-Mira... she'll be okay, right?"

Rumi whispers, clinging to the older girl, and Mira can only nod, hugging her a little tighter as she prays to the gods that she's not lying.

.....................................................................................................................

After the girls brought you back to your apartment, you spent hours drifting in and out of consciousness. The first time you woke up, it wasn't a pleasant awakening. In fact, you woke up because Mira shook you until you opened your eyes.

"Y/n, you can't sleep, love, come on..."

A small moan escaped your lips, tears forming in the corners of your eyes without you being able to stop them.

"What... Mira, what?"

"You hit your head, love, do you remember?"

The second time you woke up, two hours later, it was because of a painful massage on your sternum, which you tried to free yourself from by unconsciously summoning your shuriken.

"Woah tiger, take it easy with those."

Mira had snatched them from your hands and thrown them across the room. You looked up and saw the culprit behind that painful massage.

"Rumi, stop, stop, my head hurts... I just want to sleep."

"It'll pass, sweetheart, it'll pass."

You whimpered, and Rumi held back a sob, leaning over you to kiss your forehead. Then she, Mira, and Zoey exchanged worried glances before you fell unconscious again.

The third time you woke up, it was because of a loud conversation that had disturbed your sleep.

"We have to take her to the hospital, she needs a CT scan."

"She's so stubborn... she won't let us take her to the hospital." Mira shook her head, glancing quickly at you.

"I know, damn it, but she can't stay awake for more than five minutes. We have to do something. She took a bad blow, and if she has a brain hemorrhage and we don't notice it in time..."

"I'm fine," you muttered, rubbing your eyes, "Celine..."

"We don't talk to Celine anymore, love. Remember?" Zoey said, and you looked at her confusedly before throwing up the contents of your stomach onto the floor.

..……………………………...................................................................................

After seven hours of intermittent wakefulness, you regain consciousness. Slowly. You blink, move your arms and find them sore, before noticing the same in your legs. You look around, there is no one in the room and the only noise is the traffic of Seoul in the background. You sit up slowly and then swing your legs out of bed. As soon as your feet touch the floor, a chill runs down your spine.

"What are you thinking of doing? Don't even try it."

Mira's hands push you back onto your back and you snort.

"I feel better, love."

"Yeah, well... we haven't slept for 10 hours to make sure you don't have a fucking brain hemorrhage, that your chest is still rising, so stay the fuck still."

You sigh, abandoning all attempts to escape. You look at Mira, her shoulders tense, dark circles under her eyes, and the look of a caged tiger expecting someone to hurt her at any moment.

"Mira?"

"Mm."

"Love, look at me."

You manage to grab her hand, tugging it slightly to force her to look at you.

"I'm fine, Mira, I'm fine. Sure, it feels like someone played football with my head, but I'm here, I'm talking to you."

Mira remains silent for a few moments, her breathing still too rapid, her heart pounding beneath her skin. But finally, she lets out a long sigh and sits down on the edge of the bed, next to you. Her fingers brush your cheek and then intertwine with yours.

She can't take her eyes off you, as if to make sure you're really there, really alive.

You hear a rustle and the door to the room opens slightly, creaking.

Zoey enters first, her hair messy and still wearing her crew sweatshirt. She looks different—more vulnerable, as if she had been forced to look too closely at what she wasn't ready to lose. Behind her, Rumi tiptoes in. She is wearing a loose-fitting T-shirt and her bare legs are shaking; her hair is not tied back in her usual braid but loose and damp on her shoulders.

"Is she awake?" Zoey asks, turning to Mira. Her voice is little more than a whisper as they both approach the bed.

"Present, more or less."

You smile, raising your hand playfully, and before you can put it down, Zoey screams and jumps on you.

"Zoey! Take it easy."

"It's okay, Mira," you chuckle, hugging the girl in your arms and kissing her shoulders as you hold her close.

"You had us so worried, you were awake intermittently, you almost choked on your vomit, and you couldn't remember anything, not even Celine and-"

"Zo, breathe, it's okay, I'm here now. I'm sorry I scared you."

You feel your shirt starting to get wet and realize that Zoey is crying.

"Don't ever do that again. Google says you could have had a seizure and I searched in the forum that—"

"Zoey, sweetheart, we've already talked about this. When you're scared, you're not allowed to look it up on Google, you know that."

"I know, I know, but..." Zoey's voice trembles, as does her body in your arms, "...but you were there, motionless, and you weren't reacting. You weren't breathing properly, y/n. I didn't know what to do. And I—

Zoey stops abruptly. Her voice cracks and her fingers cling to your arm as if she's afraid you might disappear again. Mira strokes her back with a slow hand, but doesn't speak. There's no need.

Then Rumi approaches. Tiny steps, almost trembling. Her hands clenched around the hem of her shirt, her knuckles white with tension.

"Can... can I come too?" she asks in a whisper.

You don't answer. You just reach out your arm toward her, slowly but surely, and Rumi doesn't hesitate any longer: she joins you and crouches down next to you, between you and Mira, resting her face against your shoulder and hugging you gently. Her fingers touch your skin as if she's afraid of breaking you.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, it's my fault, I..."

Her voice trembles, her chin brushing your chest. You hug her tighter, one hand on the back of her neck, a light kiss in her hair.

"Rumi, love, hey... Do we ever apologize when one of us has a nightmare or an anxiety attack? You brought me back. You were brave."

"No... I'm not. I froze. I let them attack you. They used her face and I... I couldn't react."

Mira, who hadn't said anything until then, leans forward and gently takes her chin, forcing her to look her in the eyes.

"Despite everything, you kept fighting, Rumi. That's courage."

Zoey nods, tears still hanging on her eyelashes.

"Exactly. And then you calmed us all down. You sing, Ru. You keep us together. You're our anchor."

Rumi doesn't answer. She just nods, rubbing her nose against your shirt before letting herself go completely. Mira pulls her close, and Zoey hugs you from behind, her arms around your waist. You find yourselves like this: a knot of intertwined bodies on the bed, tired, bruised, still trembling but united. Your heartbeats slowly synchronize. The silence is no longer empty, but filled with your shared breathing.

You close your eyes, just for a second, a twinge in your temple forcing you to do so, and when you open them again, you find Zoey watching you.

"Do you know what scared me the most?" she asks softly, her voice barely vibrating as she looks at you worriedly. You shake your head slowly, your mouth dry, the twinge still throbbing behind your left eye.

Zoey takes a breath, lowers her gaze for a moment, then raises it again.

"That you didn't remember Celine. That... you weren't you anymore. As if something had erased you. As if... we had lost you before we even really lost you."

A heavy silence falls over all of you, like a shroud. Rumi hugs you tighter, and Mira does the same. You swallow.

"Celine raised us," more out of habit than conviction. "She taught us everything. She taught us how to survive, but—"

"Not how to live. Not how to love. Not like this." Mira whispers. The words come out slowly but firmly. "We've moved on. In every way. And now we can stop looking back."

Rumi sniffs, then speaks in a whisper:

"So we can stop being afraid of who we are?"

"Yes, Ru. We can," you murmur. "We are the Huntrix. We are real. It's the four of us."

Zoey smiles through her tears, reaches out and intertwines her hand with yours. Mira does the same with Rumi's. You stay like that for a few minutes, your fingers intertwined like broken rings that finally fit together.

Then Rumi yawns softly, almost shyly.

"I feel... exhausted."

"We're all exhausted," Mira murmurs, pulling her close.

You cuddle up, but not before Rumj checks your pulse and Mira checks her blood pressure.

"I think that's enough."

"You gave us a heart attack, so now you're going to get checked out and you're not complaining. Got it?"

You smile slightly, shaking your head in exasperation. Then you reach over to the redhead and kiss her on the shoulder. Mira stops, her fingers pressed against your wrist, and looks at you. They finish checking you and then lie down beside you.

"I love you," says the redhead, pressing a kiss on your lips.

"I love you more," adds Zoey.

"I love you most of all," murmurs Rumi, already half asleep in your arms.

And in that small, warm room, filled with silence and unspoken words, four hearts beat as one.

Four hunters. Four idols. Four souls.

One Honmoon.

Thank you for reading! Requests are always open, and even though I'm not entirely satisfied with this fanfiction... well, here we are. Have a great day! Like comment and, if u want, support me. Even 1 €/$ it’s more than enough! Please, feel free to leave a request with your donation! All the requests will be fulfilled, even without a donation. The donation will set your request on the first place and the request will be written in less than 48 hours.

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[eunscence]

It's like a polaroid love

in which; Taehyung finally posts your wedding photos after long years of hiding you

❨ 김태형 ❩ kim taehyung x fem.reader | est.relationship / married | idol au

note; in honor of my man being released from that hell (military). apologises for bad grammar ! english is not my first language and i refuse to let it influence my life (proud patriotic [lmao])

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am"

"... but like absolutely, thousand percent, pinky promise sure?"

you can't help but groan into your pillow at his uncertainty. Taehyung has been out of the military for just a few days and since then, he's asking you about the same thing

posting your wedding photos

you two got married right before he and the other members started preparing for the service. the man is a rather private person. he shares some parts of his life with fans but family is something completely different. he knows revealing it will literally break the internet, but, as he's always saying,

"i want everyone to know who's making me the happiest person alive"

that's why a small laugh leaves your throat at his questions. first he wants to show you of to the world, second he's too scared.

"Darling" you start, sitting straightly on your shared bed and looking down at Taehyung, who's just leaning his head on the bed frame. he's looking at you with these dark eyes that only you have the privilege of making softer.

"We are grown people. Your fans are, too. They will understand that you want to have a family on your own" netizens still have pretty unhealthy expectations of celebrities. relationship is still a taboo topic, but it's changing. slowly but surely. many armies have grown up and are growing up with these men, they're able to understand that Taehyung wants to settle down.

Taehyung's quietly listening to your words, almost getting distracted by the little marks he left on your skin last night. he knows your right. he noticed that his fans' standards shifted a bit, and they seem eager to know if he's single or not. he looks again at his phone. the photo is simple. polaroid, you dressed in a gorgeous white dress and a veil sitting on his lap, he in a black suit with a little red rose in the pocket on his chest, hugging you with the biggest grin on his face. even if someone wouldn't get it immediately, the date in the corner of the photo with a small heart says enough.

he takes deep breath

"Okay" he mumbles

"Three, two, one..." and he quickly clicks 'post'. he turns off his phone and throws it somewhere to the side on the bed. he rolls over to bury his face in your stomach and wrap his arms around you.

"See? It wasn't that scary" you say softly, your fingers running through his hair that thankfully got longer.

"It was" again, you chuckle. a big, grown man who looks like he could break a watermelon with his biceps being scared because of an instagram post

"If anything, we can always just get a good lawyer"

"A damn good one"

i seriously need to read more it's not funny anymore >:[ can someone recommend some books

[cutehoons02]

Kiss me, don't say no!

*pairing: pervy idol Jake x writer tumblr Girl

*trope: frat boy x good girl

*synopsis: What if your favorite idol and bias discovered your Tumblr account where you wrote cute and adorable one-shot about him but also spicy? You always dreamed of going to a fan meeting of the Enhypen but what would happen if Jake had written for days in anonymous pretending to be a fan of the enhypen and then made you realize that you were writing with him and he would want to recreate those one-Spicy shot you wrote about him?

*tags: Lots of tension, fluffy, Jake slowly becomes more and more obsessed by the protagonist, white lies, possession, jealousy, the protagonist is a pretentious shy, they are both perverts, inspired by one-shot and reading, manipulation, masturbation (f.receives) touch, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) +18,pet names (good girl,angel) (jakey)

Sunghoon pt Heeseung pt

(English is not my native language)

8k (🎀)

Jake was bored. And when Jake was bored, he could only do two things: annoy the group members until he threw a pillow in his face... or get lost in the meanders of social.

Lying on the bed of his hotel room, with hair still wet after a shower and phone in hand, he was lazy on Twitter until he saw a trade of a fan account on him that posted one-shots that could be read on Tumblr and the top 10 and there were for each one-shot link and when he entered the page of Tumblr it jumped out at him: #Enhypen x Reader.

Curious, clicked and his timeline immediately filled with scenes, gifs, fanart, and especially fanfiction about them. He was used to seeing the name of Heeseung or Sunghoon at the top of those charts, but when his eyes fell on #Jake x Reader, his interest lit up instantly.

And then he saw it.

A blog with a cute icon and a sweet username that had fanfiction number one: "Vampire Jake: My Predator".

He just had to slide a few lines and feel a shiver running down his back.

"His red eyes shone in the darkness as his warm body trapped me against the wall. His breath was irregular, the canines were touching my bare neck while his fingers were gripping my life with an almost animalistic possessiveness."

Jake swallowed it. For a moment, his shy side pushed him to close everything, but his curiosity - and, okay, maybe something else - prevented him from looking away.

He continued reading, the heartbeat in his chest. The way you described it... the sweet tone, but also incredibly spicy... He made him blush to the ears. You had written about him as a dangerously seductive vampire, someone unable to follow for the desire to taste his prey: his girlfriend. Is it the worst? It almost seemed that you knew him.

When he finished reading the one-shot he thought: Wow this girl seems to know me so well for just being a fan of mine!

Then, scrolling through the other stories in your profile and seeing the number of likes and comments was quite famous, he realized that this was not an isolated case.

"Boyfriend Jake (But he’s a Pervert)"

"Golden Retriever Jake (But he’s Obsessed with You)"

"Jake Sim and the Thousand Excuses to Touch His Girlfriend"

He almost laughed. Almost because his head was now full of images... and questions. Who the hell were you? And how did you write such things about him with such confidence?

And with a clever smile, he had an idea: Jake had always been the type to be carried away by instinct. And at that moment, his instinct was only one thing: to find out who was behind the blog.

And maybe... talk a little with you, he entered the message section but first, he had to create an account that looked like the account of any fan of Enhypen and at this point himself. In the image he put a photo of him taken from Twitter and created the name with his initials and the year of his birth "J_S02" was perfect because you would have understood that he was a fan.

Message from "J_02" (aka Jake, undercover mode: activated)

Hey! I know you probably get a lot of messages, but I had to ask... why are you writing ONLY about Jake? I read your story and it’s nice but you seem to know Jake better than yourself!

Jake bit his fingernails and rubbed the towel in his hair to relax, he wanted to talk about it to his friends like Jay or Sunghoon but what would he say to him: Hey I found a fan of ours writing one-shot spicy about me, and out of curiosity I wrote a message?

Nah they would have made fun of him when he waited madly for your message and after a while arrived.

Answer from you: Oh? Another jealous Jake fan? 👀

J_S02: No no, I swear I’m not jealous! (Maybe a little hahaha) But come on, don’t the other members deserve some love? I saw your master and you only have stories about Jake

You: Jake is special, I follow him from I-land. He has that adorable golden retriever look but with a dangerous side that makes him perfect for any scenario... sometimes I take inspiration from their video clips or their songs

J_S02: Dangerous? But he seems the type that gets excited for a puppy! Have you seen how mini it is when he sees any animal but especially Layla?

You: Of course, I know that it has a sweet side! When he came out that vlog with Layla was adorable but who says you do not hide a more... spicy side?

Jake laughed when he read that message, certainly, it was not innocent as they painted some fans but did not think that some fans could think of it as a boy a little perverted to say it all.

J_S02: Okay, okay, point in your favor. But then... how do you write about him in so much detail? Do you know him by chance or is it all in your imagination?

You: Maybe yes, maybe no. 😉 But sorry, why all this interest? You wrote me because I don’t write about other members but I think seeing also your profile photo that you are a fan, right?

J_S02: Let’s put it like this: I would like to see if your descriptions are accurate and yes, I’m a fan of Jake and the Enhypen too, but I’m a boy and I don’t know if this thing could bother you...

You: Oh, finally I met some male fans of Enhypen!! Returning to the message from earlier and if I find that I have perfectly grasped his character? And that Jake could be both the cub boy and "Golden retriever" as the members describe him but also with a bit of a not-so-innocent guy side?

Jake ran his hand through his thick hair and shook his head, god was so fun to write you especially when he wanted to know someone or maybe have a girl to talk to about these things but the Idol life had strict rules, and didn't want to burst dramas especially now that they were at the peak of their careers and with a thousand things at stake.

J_S02: Then I would say that... you should give me some more details. You know, for "research purposes".

You: Tsk tsk, what a pervert. Just like the Jake of my stories...

Jake loved how you imagined it and maybe that Jake you described so well was not only the Jake of your stories but also the one in reality!

The conversation with you on Tumblr didn’t stop, and every message he received made him smile and at the same time put him in a more complicated position. " Who was this girl?" he wondered. "What would she think if she knew who I was?".

He could not reveal his identity to you, and the most fascinating part of the conversation was just that. He felt like he knew the secret, while you were completely unaware that you were talking to one of the ENHYPEN.

Meanwhile, he kept on responding to your messages, in a friendly and curious tone, but always maintaining his "normal identity".

J_S02: I wanted to ask you this weekend will you go to one of the two concerts they do in Seoul and the fan meeting?" Jake wrote, pretending to be just a normal guy who was curious to meet a fan.

You: Of course, I will. And also at the fan meeting on Monday!

You’ll be there? Interesting thought Jake when he read that you were going to see him at the concert but also the formatting, could somehow find out who you were and understand who was behind this account

J_S02: It must be a big event for you! Don’t you think it would be strange to meet one of your favorite stars live? Don’t you think it might be a little awkward? I will not be at the concert because I work but at the fan meeting I will be

After a few seconds, the phone vibrated with a new answer.

You: Oh, no! I don’t think it will be weird... maybe a little bit exciting, since I follow I-land, I dream of seeing them sing and dance live. Although I’m a bit shy, I think it would be a dream to see one of my idols so close and I can’t wait for it to be Monday; however, we could meet on Monday at the meeting!"

Jake, reading that answer, smiled and felt puzzled. Something was fascinating about the way you spoke. You looked so genuine and completely unaware of who he was.

J_S02: It seems to me that you are a really big fan, what are you preparing for the most: the concert or the fan meeting? Anyway, it would be perfect if we met at the meeting

The response came in a flash, with a line of enthusiasm that made Jake smile.

You: Both, honestly! But what excites me the most is that after the concert I’ll go to the fan meeting and, well... I guess I will see him after 4 years in the flesh! It will be a unique opportunity. I can’t wait! Well perfect then on Monday morning we agree on where to find us, I will be with my friends:)

Jake holds a smile. He felt in a sense excited by the thought that this girl would soon meet the Enhypen and especially him, But the thing that intrigued him most was how she would react when she realized he was one of the members she was feeling with.

J_S02: Oh wow, you seem excited. I wonder how you’ll react when you’re face to face with the Enhypen and Jake!

He wrote, but with a subtle play on words, pretending not to be the star she loved so much.

J_S02: We should find a way to recognize ourselves if you want to meet me at the meeting, I guess there will be a lot of people.

You: I’ll send you a picture of my outfit on the day of the fan meeting! So it will be easier to find us 😊

Jake smiled and now the game could be even more interesting.

The two concerts in Seoul were crazy, They sang and danced to thousands of fans and everyone was happy with their performances Jake was excited because he knew that in that flood of people, you were also there and he couldn’t wait to write you and see you tomorrow at the fan meeting.

Jake, still hiding behind his anonymous profile, found himself typing a message right after the end of the concert. He wanted to know everything.

J_S02: So, how was the concert? Did you have fun?

It took a while for him to get an answer, but when the phone vibrated he found a long message that made him smile.

You: Oh my God, it was AMAZING. I’m still without a voice! I screamed so much that tomorrow I probably won’t even be able to talk 😂.

Jake laughed at himself, imagining you all euphoric and out of breath after watching the show.

You: The performances were crazy! They sang all my favorite songs and I did not stop to film. I have a thousand videos and photos, literally.

J_S02: And did you get all of them or just your favorite as well as Jake Sim? 😏

You: Um... let’s say my film is 60% Jake and 40% the rest of the group.

Jake shook his head laughing. So you had eyes only for him, huh? And he decided to go a little further.

J_S02: And how was Jake live? Did he look at you at least once?

You answered immediately with a message accompanied by a video.

You: I caught him right now! Look, for a second he looked at me!"

Jake opened the video and concentrated. During all the chaos of lights, fans, and screaming, he managed to see himself on stage... and then, for a moment, he saw himself turn his gaze to the camera.

He made up his mind trying to remember that moment but there were thousands of fans that night and the thought that you had immortalized that micro-second among so many people gave him shivers.

J_S02: Wow. He looked at you. Do you remember what you thought at that moment?

You: That I would have melted away instantly. And that I was making mental films, because imagine if he had seen me"

Jake laughed. Oh, if you only knew... that he had seen you and was also writing to you

You kept writing to each other for a while, until Jake, without even thinking about it, asked you:

J_S02: What are your favorite songs?

You: It’s hard to choose just a few! I love Shout Out, Moonstrock, One in a Billion, Criminal Love, and the whole "Dark Blood" album but let’s say I love songs where Jake’s voice is strong. And also... I miss the blond Jake when I saw him blonde for the first time I thought I was in love with him haha. Even as a brunette he’s fine but blond>>>

Jake when he read that he liked the blond version wrote to his hairdresser staff that tomorrow before the fan meeting wanted to make it blonde that was a lot that did not dye his hair

Without thinking, he wrote to her:

J_S02: Well, at the fan meeting you will see him blond again.

On the other hand, you took a few seconds to answer.

You: Wait... what? It’s impossible! There is no comeback planned, no special event. He couldn’t change his look so randomly.

Jake bit his lip. He had just said too much, cabbage had been careful until now you should not get caught up in the emotions.

You: Wait, how do you know?

Jake cursed himself mentally. But why did he miss that sentence?!

J_S02: Oh... ehm... I meant that maybe it could be a surprise. You never know. I was just kidding! 😅"

You seemed to accept his answer, but he knew the damage was done. The problem? The next day he would really dye his hair blonde before the fan meeting and scrolling on Twitter and Tik Tok had read everywhere on social media how fans liked that look on him, and eventually he decided to do it but now... He felt that he had done it for one more reason.

You were excited, the fan meeting was about to start and you already heard the music coming from the theater and the various voices of the members; you had spent the morning preparing yourself, choosing carefully his outfit: a white t-shirt with small pink bows, low-waisted jeans that let a thread of skin, loose hair and Adidas Samba on the feet. Nothing too flashy, but cute enough to feel comfortable waiting in line, you got a message.

J_S02: So, are you ready?

You: More than ready! I’m already inside the arena, soon I’ll enter the fan meeting room!

J_S02: "How’s your outfit? I want to understand how you are dressed so I try to find you."

You: Mh, I have a little T-shirt with pink bows, low waist jeans, the Adidas Samba and loose hair

After a few seconds, Jake responded with a photo.

It was a slightly blurred image, taken from below, but you could see clearly: a red sweatshirt and torn jeans.

You: Wow, mysterious as always. Where are we?

J_S02: Inside the fan meeting. But I’m sure you’ll recognize me right away.

You wrinkled your forehead for a moment in what sense would you recognize him immediately? You sent around to observe all the few males that there were at the fan meeting but none had a red sweatshirt and it was strange because it was an access color and you should recognize it immediately.

You: Um, I’m already inside, but I don’t see anyone with a red sweatshirt and ripped jeans... 👀"

Jake: Wait till you get into the main hall.

You sighed, thinking he was teasing you and finally, the line came forward. With a heart full of joy, you entered the room where the Enhypen were sitting next to each other, waiting to chat with the fans and time seemed to slow down.

You saw them, all seven. The faces you knew so well, the guys you followed for years, the guys you could see grow up in recent years and watch them record after record with their songs and performances but when your gaze reached the bottom of the line... your breath stuck in your throat.

Jake was crazy alive: His hair was blonde, fluffy, and slightly ruffled, the perfect face, the smile on his lips but it wasn’t his appearance that made you tremble. It was his outfit: a red sweatshirt, and ripped jeans, exactly those of the photo, and the world around you seemed to stop for a few seconds while your brain tried to put together the pieces.

Jake... It was him... He was "J_S02". You thought he was just a fan but instead you.

You were written with Jake Sim. You sent him your videos at the concert. You told him how you would dress. And, most importantly... Jake read your fan fiction about him. You wanted to disappear and run away from the fan meeting but you couldn’t go back and the heat went up to your face so fast that you feared to faint.

What about Jake?

Jake was looking at you with a clever little grin, eyes slightly closed as if he was having a bit too much fun at your reaction, and then slowly winked at you and you saw him for a few seconds pulling out of his pocket a phone and you felt your vibrating.

J_S02: Surprise. 😉

And in that instant, you realized one thing was fundamental you were in trouble.

You stuck your phone in your jeans with a nervous gesture and your heart was pounding, you tried to stay calm, to treat that fan meeting as a normal experience. With the other members, you were perfectly at ease.

Jungwon had made a nice joke about your shirt, Jay had shown you a magic trick, and Heeseung had been incredibly sweet to you but when it was Jake’s turn ... Everything changed.

You sat in front of him, your heart pounding in your ears and you couldn’t even look at his face. It was too much: too absurd. Too surreal. Too much of him.

Jake looked at you with a hint of a smile, fingers thumping read on the table, and then, without warning, he took your hands, and contact with his hand made you feel too real.

He approached slightly, lowering his voice so that only you could hear him.

«Hello, Y/n.

God, your name said from his lips made your heart beat even faster and you clenched your lips, but before you could say anything, Jake bowed his head and his smile became more provocative.

«Or should I say... writer of spicy tales?"

A heat wave went up from your neck to your cheeks. Oh no. No, no.

You cleared your throat, retracting his hands with a quick gesture but he was faster than you and put them inside you in his big hands and squeezed them slightly.

"Stop." Jake raised a slouch and started to laugh slightly

«Why should I? It’s not my fault if you spent days writing spicy things about me!

You felt the fire rising in your stomach. You were angry, angry with him for deceiving you, angry with yourself for not realizing it before, angry because... damn, it was even more fascinating live.

"You’re unbearable," you muttered, finally taking your hands off his and crossing your arms on his chest.

Jake leaned against the back of his chair, looking at you with that look that seemed to be light inside.

«Oh, so you’ve got the wrong idea about me all these years? Did you think I was more... sweet?"

Where was the sweet, sunny, awkward Jake you always imagined? Where was the human golden retriever who made millions of fans beat their hearts?

What you had in front of you was a completely different Jake, maybe... more like the one you described in your stories.

He looked down at your shirt for a second, then slowly went up to your eyes. «Cute bows on the mesh."

You felt burning with embarrassment, especially because, as he spoke,

He had to stop it immediately with you, for you that was not a game was a dream that had been realized to see all 7 live but slowly was turning into a nightmare.

"Jake, stop," you hissed. "That’s not fair. You pretended to be an ordinary fan!" Jake raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly as if he was amused by your indignation.

«I repeat, I am not the one in error."

He looked at you with that damn arrogant grin you had never seen on him before.

«You’re the one who writes hot stories about me."

You felt yourself dying. You wanted to sink underground and never come out again.

"I... Not "You tried to say something, but the words stuck in your throat and Jake tilted his head even more, his look was amused but there was something more.

«What is it? Are you ashamed to have me before you now?"

YES. CURSED YES. But you would never admit it.

"That’s not the point!" you slammed slowly, trying to ignore the heat that was coming down your face.

Jake leaned his head closer and stood there, a few inches away from you, with that air of someone who had just found his new favorite pastime: to make fun of you.

«You know what?" he said, crossing his arms and staring at you with an almost dangerous smile. «I was intrigued by those stories."

You’ve been peeking. "W-what is it?!"

«Yes. We should talk about it better, don’t you think?"

"Talk about what?!" you said with grace that they were on fire and you could not look at him anymore but you looked from everything except him and hoped that the staff called you to send you away and Jake came closer, his eyes glued to yours.

«Of all you’ve written about me." And in that instant, you understood something very, very clearly. Jake Sim would not leave you alone.

Days had passed from the fan meeting and your life was back to calm, you went to university, studied, and went out with your friends to downtown Seoul or near the river thrusts, when you had time you read new one-shots and in your drafts there were some already set but you did not dare to publish any because Jake knew of your existence and even if he had not written since that day you always had the anxiety to receive a message.

But on the other hand, Jake saw your Instagram profile, thanks to the list he had found after the fan meeting with all the names and surnames written and it was a breeze to find your Ig profile carefully, eyes that were shining with curiosity... e desire had found you and would not let you be for long.

Your photos told him a story he already liked too much.

Shots of travel with friends, always smiling, always radiant, Photos at concerts, immersed in the crowd, your eyes illuminated by emotion. Outfit as a good girl, but with the right touch of mischief.

Jake ran his hand through his blond hair, biting the inside of his cheek. You were the perfect representation of his ideal girlfriend and now that he had seen your world... he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Then, a notification brought him back to reality.

🔔 Y/nWritings has posted a new story on Tumblr.

A shiver of excitement passed through him. Finally, he wanted too much to see what you had written about him until now you had only imagined it but now that you had seen him live and even heard him talking with you you could describe it much better; opened the post, sure that she would find a new story about him but her smile is turned off when she read the title.

"Heeseung x Reader - After the Fan Meeting..."

Jake wiped his eyelids slightly because he had read wrong but when he opened the story in a hurry, eyes running through the lines with growing annoyance and a sense of jealousy crept into his chest.

That story wasn’t about him. It was about Heeseung and it wasn’t just any story. It was spicy.

Jake clenched his jaw, the blood boiling in his veins. But what the fuck... he was your favorite. He was the one who had made her crazy for days not heeseung. He was the one who invaded your thoughts and your Tumblr profile with him as the protagonist, not Heeseung!

A dark smirk curled his lips, if you wanted to play with him, then he would play but his rules and win at any cost.

You were lying in bed with the computer playing one of your favorite TV shows in the background and you were relaxed in your room until a notification that you knew belonged to made you shudder.

J_S02: I want to see you.

You pulled yourself up with wide eyes, no, it couldn’t be you had ignored it for days, you tried to forget what happened at the fan meeting but you knew that sooner or later he would rewrite you and maybe you played with the wrong person because fatality had rewritten you on the same day you published a one-shot but this one-shot had not as protagonist him but another member of Enhypen.

You: Don’t write me anymore.

J_S02: Are you sure?

You bit your lip. Yes, damn it, you didn’t want to do anything with him anymore;

You were about to type another message when an Instagram notification blocked your heartbeat.

🔔 J_S02 has viewed your story and started following you

Wait... what?! In what sense did he follow me? How the hell did he find my profile and panic took over?

J_S02: Look out the window.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you slowly got up from the bed and approached the window with the phone in your hands and when you looked out... your world stopped. Jake was there, leaning, with his red sweatshirt and the usual ripped jeans, hands tucked in his pockets but this time he had a black mask covering his nose you knew it was him and you heard him talking.

«Now you still want to say no?»

The voice was low, slightly hoarse. Damn dangerous and you felt the heat coming to your face. He was crazy?!

Open the window, heart in throat. "What the hell are you doing here?!" You hissed quietly, afraid someone might hear it

Jake tilted his head, his smile amused. «I wanted to see you.»

You stared at him incredulously. "You can’t... I mean... how did you find me?!"

He shrugged. «I have my famous methods.»

You pale because it was creepy, yet damn charming.

"I can’t get off."

Jake sighed, pulling out the phone. "So I’ll get up.»

"No, I’m not!" exclaimed in panic but he was already gone, You ran to your door and leaned until you heard footsteps and slowly opened the door and saw Jake climbing the stairs and slowly taking off his black mask and stared at him with your heart beating like crazy. He was a fool. But an incredibly sexy fool.

You sighed when you felt its slightly amber scent invade your spaces. "What do you want from me, Jake?"

He looked you straight in the eye.

«Gosh, you’re giving your favorite idol warmth! I want to know why you wrote about Heeseung.»

You flashed your eyes when you heard the last part of the sentence. "Wait... are you here for this?!"

Jake nodded. «Explain it. Why didn’t you write about me?»

You put your hand in your hair and were seriously incredulous about the situation you were living in. "I didn’t think it was a problem."

«It is,» said Jake, with a dangerous smile and you saw him approaching you

Was he jealous?

He watched you for a few seconds and put his hand in the door of your room which was like a shield that could protect you from him at that moment.

«Can I. Can I come in?»

"Jake, I’m..." He stared at you intensely. «I will do nothing to you, Y/n. I just... want to talk.»

You bit your lip, you knew you shouldn’t but damn... you wanted to find out how far he would go and with a sigh, grabbed the door and opened it, Jake at first is surprised but at the same time he is satisfied with your choice, and when he came in he got closer to you and said to you in a low voice

«Good girl," You were fucked. Closed the door of your apartment with too much heat, what the hell was Jake doing in his house?!

Jake had already gone into the small shared apartment with your friends, looking around with a funny, almost arrogant air. He stood at the door of his room and looked at it with a mischievous smile.

"Can I come in?» he asked with a friendly polite tone and you exclaimed "NO!"

Trying to prevent him from entering but it was quite late, Jake had already turned the handle and had entered and you bit your lip, while he watched everything with attentive eyes and after a moment of silence, he whistled softly.

"Wow,» he commented, letting a laugh run away as she looked around. "This is a good girl’s room. I did not expect anything less.»

His fingers touched a row of perfectly neat vinyl over the bookcase. His eyes slid to the hanging lights, polaroids stuck to the wall, the Enhypen albums neatly stacked on the desk but the thing that made him smile even more was the teddy bear lying on the bed.

"Oh? You sleep with a stuffed animal?»

"It’s not your business!" you slouched, crossing your arms at your chest. Jake grinned and, without thinking twice, threw himself on the bed as if it were his. He reached out nonchalantly, hands behind his head, body relaxed as if he were in his dorm with the other boys.

"Comfortable,» he commented, slowly sliding his hand along the edge of the blankets and then looking up at you, with that air he knew very well to drive you crazy.

"I was expecting something more... forbidden, you know? Seeing the things you write about me.» You came closer by snapping, grabbing him by the wrist in an attempt to pull him out of bed.

"Get off now!" exclaimed, trying to keep a steady tone, even if you were going completely tilt inside Jake laughed softly, but did not move.

"You shouldn’t be here, you’re a liar! I thought I was talking to an Enhypen fan, not you!"

Jake slowly lifted himself on his elbows and, with a fluid movement, grabbed your wrist, reversing the grip. His hand was warm and steady, the grip firm but not intrusive, and came slightly closer, your faces were dangerously close.

"I know,» he muttered with an enchanting smile. "Surely I played a dirty game with you...»

Jake tilted his head to the side, his eyes shining with pure fun.

"But tell me, Y/n, who is the one crazy between us?»

"What the hell do you mean?" Jake slowly let go of your wrist but remained close, his voice low and dangerously sweet.

"You write dirty stories about me.» Jake let himself be left again on the bed, making himself comfortable. " One-shot extremely spicy,» he continued, playing with the edge of your shirt. "Write about me that I do things that are definitely... forbidden.»

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," the liar, trying to keep your voice still.

Jake laughed. "Oh, you know. I read it all, Y/n. Everything.»

You stared. "Are you a stalker?!"

"No, princess, I would say that I am the protagonist of your dirty fantasies.»

"Stop it!"

"Why? Does it embarrass you? » he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Strange. You didn’t seem so shy when you wrote about me whispering obscene things in your ear.» You covered your face with your hands, mortified and Jake laughed again, but then his look became more intense.

"Tell me something,» he said, lowering his voice a little. "You’re so obsessed with me, why the hell did you write a one-shot about Heeseung?»

You were stuck for a moment. "What?" Jake crossed his arms behind his head, looking at you with a slightly annoyed air.

"I read everything. All your stories. And the fact that the last one was on Heeseung bothered me.» you stared at him, incredulous. " Did he give you... trouble?"

Jake sighed, sliding a hand through his blonde hair.

"Yes. Because I thought you were all about me.»

You bit your lower lip, trying to hide a smile. Was he... jealous?

"What does it matter? Maybe Heeseung is my true bias," you teased him, tilting his head to one side.

"Oh, so you like guys like Heeseung?»

You shrugged, trying to keep a neutral expression. "Maybe."

Jake gently grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"Don’t say stupid things,» he murmured in a low voice. "I know very well that you always had eyes for me.»

Jake smiled, satisfied with your reaction, then stooped down again to you, his face a few inches from his.

«Then tell me, Y/n...» he touched your face with his fingers, almost distractedly. «Who is the crazier one of us?"

You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was beating too fast, your breath too short, the skin hot where Jake’s fingers had touched it. What was he going to say? That yes, you were obsessed with him? That every scene you wrote for yourself seemed so real in your head that you lost sleep?

Jake tilted his head to one side, looking at her with that half-amused, half-dangerous smile. Then, without warning, he touched your cheek with his fingers.

«Here it’s all real, Y/n,» he muttered, his voice lower, deeper. «There is no game in action, no anonymous behind a screen. It’s just you and me.»

You felt a shiver run down your back. Why did he have to speak that way? With that tone that seemed like a promise and a threat together?

"You’re impossible," you slammed, trying to step back. "And a lying asshole, too, by the way!" Jake laughed softly, but in his eyes, there was something different. Something more intense and before you could go away, he grabbed you by the wrist and, with a fluid movement, pulled you over, and a moment later, you were riding on him.

"Jake!" you flapped your eyes, trying to move you but he held you with a steady hand on your back, holding you exactly where he wanted.

«Tell me something,» he muttered, looking you straight in the eye. «That scene you wrote... is how you imagined it» Jake lowered himself slightly, bringing his face closer to yours.

«Was this the position?» he whispered, his warm breath touching your skin, you could say nothing.

In the end, unable to sustain his gaze, you annuided and Jake smiled, but in his eyes, there was a predatory glow.

«Good girl», he whispered. And then without realizing it, he crashed his lips into yours, the kiss was not sweet. Or rather, it was for half a second.

His lips were resting on yours with a deceitful delicacy, as if they wanted to make fun of you, as if he was giving you time to run away but you did not run away and Jake understood it immediately.

His hands slowly slid down your back and then squeezed it harder, as if he wanted to taste you all the way. The kiss became deeper, more famished, and territorial.

You instinctively clung to Jake’s sweatshirt, fingers tucked in the fabric as you felt his body warm wherever he touched you. Jake wasn’t just kissing you, he was calling you.

Every movement of his lips against yours was decided, every touch of his hands on your curves was sure, every breath mixed with his said one thing: You are mine.

When you pulled away for a second, you were slightly panting, your cheeks burning, your chest rising and falling too quickly but Jake didn’t even give you time to catch your breath.

«You will never write anything about anyone again,» he muttered, kissing you again.

Groaning against his lips, unable to resist him Jake smiled in the kiss and pressed you even more against himself.

«Only on me,» he whispered against your mouth, biting your lower lip slowly before letting it go.

«Got it?»

You couldn’t answer, too lost in him, in his smell, in his touch, in the way he seemed determined to leave his mark on you. You nodded your head and he pressed you even closer to him and said

«Good girl,» gently caressing your side. When you came off again you covered your face with your hands, mortified by the situation and Jake laughed softly, his breath still irregular.

«So? Will you write about Heeseung again?» He asked with a dangerous smirk, you gave him a pat on the shoulder, trying to ignore the fact that I was still sitting on top of him.

"You’re unbearable," you muttered. Jake laughed again, brushing his blond hair.

«I know, princess. But you know what the worst part is?»

You looked at him with curiosity. "What?"

Jake took your chin between two fingers and forced you to look at it.

«Now that I have kissed you, I have no intention of stopping here.»

You missed the breath and Jake came closer, his eyes burning.

«And this time, angel...» he touched your lower lip with his thumb.

«It will no longer be just your fantasy. Then, tell me Angel...» his voice was a rough whisper as he slowly caressed your back with his fingers. «That famous one-shot in which I was a vampire... what was the exact scene?»

"I don’t... I don’t know," you tried to answer, but Jake shook his head with a smirk.

«Oh no, you know very well,» you muttered, bowing your head as his hands slid down your waist, making you shiver. «I read it all, remember?»

You felt his cheeks burn and Jake came even closer, letting his warm breath touch your skin.

«The vampire,» he continued, with a low and deep voice, «takes the girl in his arms... holds her close to him...» And meanwhile, Jake recreated every movement. He pulled his hair to one side...» Jake did it. The tapered fingers gently picked your hair, revealing its bare neck. «... and start kissing her,» Jake ended, finally pressing his lips on your skin.

The first kiss was slow, almost innocent, but it was nothing more than a deception.

Jake continued to leave a trail of slow, warm kisses down his neck, the touch of his lips so light that it gave you the creeps. But then, suddenly, he sucked slightly at the skin and made a little surprised noise.

«That’s how you described it, wasn’t it? » he whispered in a low, husky voice.

You couldn’t answer it was impossible and Jake continued, alternating kisses and sucking, leaving a trail of marks on his fair skin. As if he wanted to mark it and then, without warning, he bit you.

A slight bite barely hinted at, but it was enough to give you a sound that had never come out of his lips before.

"J-Jakey..." moaned softly, clinging to him and Jake froze for a second. That nickname on your lips? Damn.

You felt his breath getting heavier, something in him had changed and it squeezed you even more.

«Y/n,» he muttered, returning to your neck, the voice more raucous than before. «Say it again.»

You shook your head, embarrassed and Jake said to you: «You will say it, because from this moment on, every sound that comes out of your mouth will be mine and you will moan my name.»

You were anxious when Jake continued his torturing game, alternating deep kisses, bites, and suckers; it seemed that he did not want to let you escape.

Your hands clenched in the fabric of his sweatshirt with legs slightly trembling around his hips.

«If you keep on like that...» Jake mumbled against your neck, his voice scratched by the birthmark, «I will not stop, angel.»

He gave you a second of his nickname: Angel.

Jake took a break, looking for his gaze. «Tell me what you want», he said with burning eyes.

You stared at him, then you did the only thing that you could do at that moment. You kissed him. A hungry, desperate kiss, without any hesitation and Jake moaning softly against your mouth, almost lost it altogether.

"I want to continue," you said softly, and Jake stared at you for a moment. «Good girl,» he muttered, kissing you again and gently making you lie in your bed and he looked at you this time with a look full of lust but also of sweetness and respect for you.

Jake slipped his hands on your hips and stroked those fucking bows you had in your shirt and wanted to tell you that at the fan meeting, he would want to touch you but maybe it was better not, Because otherwise you would be scared to know all that he had thought when he saw you live that day.

Grunts against your neck, sinking her teeth into a new area of skin and sucking where she had previously gently bit you «All my fucking», repeats, squeezing your hips tighter and rubbing up into your still fully covered pants and in your center ever closer to him, his lips separate from your neck with a loud, moist snap and connect to yours with enthusiasm, You pulled his hair slightly when you felt that he had added tongue and were rubbing up and down with your bodies.

"Jake" whispered with his lips as he looked into his eyes as if he wanted to reproduce all those scenes you had written with him as the protagonist, He touched your pajama shorts and with one movement pulled down both your pants and your panties and you did not expect this gesture and shivered in feeling your hot excited area but at the same time the temperature of the room that was cool.

Jake leaned slightly down and looked at your pussy which was already excited by the kisses, the lollipops he gave you, and the stimulation of rubbing up and down; «You’re a disaster here», comments, eyes lit up with joy as he sees you slightly wiggling in embarrassment and without wasting time slips his fingers and starts caressing your folds, the fingers that slip between your excitement with embarrassing ease.

«Fuck, you were just waiting for this, look ready for me!» His deep voice vibrated against your skin as he pressed his lips against your thigh. A small sigh fell from your lips as his tongue split your folds before wrapping her lips around your clitoris, sucking greedily and gently.

A high-pitched whimper escaped from your lungs as he clung back to your clitoris, his teeth brushing the little bundle of nerves, leaving you breathless. "Jake-Jakey!" you cursed, the hand flew to your mouth when he added two fingers at once, widening your walls even further.

Jake chuckled at you, savoring the way your thighs had begun to shake around his head. He knew you were close; you needed a little more to get there.

«Cum for me, baby; let me taste you on my tongue like a good girl.» He tubed before diving back into your sweet pussy.

His words were all you needed to give in, your back bowing against the bed, pushing your hips even more against his face as you came.

«Let go of yourself completely.»

"Ja-Jake" You complained, one of your hands tangled in its dark tufts as its nose pushed against your aching clitoris. It was only when you were withering away from the burning sensation of overstimulation that you gave.

He pulled his fingers soapy from your pussy and took them to his lips, licking away all your essence, making you moan behind your hand as you covered your face.

«Don’t be shy with me now, baby; you’re beautiful. Who knows what your readers would say if they knew that the writer of stories spicy now is moaning my name» He bowed, catching your lips with his in a deep and messy kiss.

«We both know you’re not shy, I bet when you were writing about me this pussy was completely excited!»

Your hand wrapped around his neck as you moaned at him for the taste of yourself on his lips.

"Jake, please." You felt his hips press against yours.

«Please, what, pretty girl?» He whispered as she walked away, leaning back over you.

"I need you so much, Jake." You cried, tears of need and despair filling your eyes, causing Jake to make a mockery of you. It was all so real what you were feeling and you were afraid that it was just a dream and you were selfish on your part but once in your life, you wanted to have Jake all for yourself and at that moment you wanted him inside of you with all of yourself. Next thing you know, he wrapped his arm around your hips, lifting them off the bed before grabbing the pillow near your head that you weren’t using. Putting it under your body, he made you lie down again before making sure that you were comfortable. Sitting down, he took off his suit and panties, letting his aching cock free. Then he put his big hand on your thigh, separating it once more.

A small lament came out of your lips at the sight of Soobin’s enormous size, you didn’t know if you would take it all.

«Are you ready, angel?» He asked, looking up at you and noticing that you were staring at him with wide eyes, but you still nodded. Giggling, he leaned over you, his lips touching yours again, «Words, Y/n»

"Yes, please!" you said looking at them cock while he sucked it lightly

His lips met yours as he pushed slowly against your narrow walls, swallowing all the sweet sounds you made.

«God you’re so fucking tight.» Jake moaned as you huddled around him.

He turned his hips, a choked groan came down from your lips as your hand wrapped around her biceps.

"Move, Jake, I’m not a doll." You choked, your head falling backward against the pillows while he kissed your neck, nibbling on your exposed collarbones.

«So impatient, I bet when you were writing those obscene things about me, you couldn’t have thought that I would take you so well ?» He chuckled before hitting your walls. His rhythm was anything but gentle; at every push, his tip kissed your cervix, leaving you a whiny mess.

"Jakey!" You shouted his name when he moved just enough to touch your weak point. Your nails got stuck in his shoulder pads while you tried to hold him even closer; he was just fucking you too well.

«Fuck baby, look how deep I am and how well you’re taking me.»

He moaned as you felt the outline of his cock against your stomach, you didn’t think that Jake whom everyone described as a good guy and some kind of puppy was fucking you so well and at the same time as you described him in your one-shot. "Jake! I am close," you cried, as you heard that spiral in the pit of your stomach tighten.

«Come for me, angel. Be a good girl and come all over my dick.» His words were the last drop before the edges of your sight became white and your body contracted under his.

His breaths began to come out with difficulty as she fucked you through your orgasm and closer to hers.

«Fuck, it’s so beautiful!» he crowed, his whole body trembling as he came, painting your walls white with his seed. Slowing down until he stopped, he lay down against you, face buried in your neck as you both came down from your heights.

Feeling finally recover, open your eyes, watching Jake as you raise your hand to run his fingers through his messy hair, he wraps himself around you and my his head over yours and kisses your forehead gently.

You were in Jake’s arms, still shaken by the intensity of what had just happened. He held you, with one hand gently caressing his back, and the other holding it close to him. Her lips were touching each other as they chuckled, as if the world outside had disappeared, leaving only them two.

«So?" Jake whispered, his voice soft but provocative, «Who was better? Me in real life or in your one-shot?» His eyes shone with amusement, while a mischievous smile brushed his lips.

You looked up at him, your heart still beating. "You are extremely good even in reality," you murmured your face that was tinged with a slight redness.

Jake looked at you intensely, as if he was trying to read every thought that passed through your mind. With a sweeter smile, he came closer, touching your face with one hand. «What is it?» He asked, more seriously, sensing something was wrong.

You looked down, feeling a knot in your throat. "It was beautiful," you said softly, "What we have lived together. But I know that, in a little while, you will return to your world, to your idol world. And I... you are just a dream that lasts for a short time."

Jake looked at you intensely, as if those words had struck him right in the heart. With a gesture that seemed to protect her from any doubt, he squeezed you even more tightly in his arms, as if he wanted to keep you there, safe, for a little longer.

«I don’t want it to end like this,» he said in a steady voice, a touch of sadness in the tone. « I want to do it with you again a thousand times. And I want to ask you something... a real proposition.»

You looked at him confused and surprised. Jake continued, chuckling with that usual lightness of his, but in his eyes, there was something deeper. «Would you like to go out with me, angel? A real date this time. No games, no pretenses. Just you and me?»

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Comments and rebblog are appreciated

©cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2025.

[seokminfilm]

fast pace 🍒 choi seungcheol

🍒 pairing, choi seungcheol x reader

🍒 warnings, non-idol au, marriage au, husband/girl dad seungcheol, overprotective seungcheol, wholesome family interaction, seungcheol calls reader "sweetheart" once, suggestive at the end (if you squint)

🍒 summary, your daughter was just like seungcheol—so alike it drove you a bit insane.

🍒 author's note, trying not to tweak out right now (just wrote a whole seokmin fic (@realmofclouds' request) to accidentally delete it all and have tumblr save the now-empty post 🧍) so here's this seungcheol fic to try to salvage something for you guys 😭 trust me i'll write a BUNCH next week to make up for it (spring break week woop woop!) please enjoy girl dad cheol i know i enjoyed writing it SJKJDFSJK

🍒 now playing, fast pace (seventeen)

🍒 word count, 1k (1k exactly what the hell) | for @kstrucknet

when you got the call that you would have to go pick your four-year-old daughter up from her kindergarten class, seungcheol would not rest until you had allowed him to drive you there.

"i want to see what she got in trouble for myself." seungcheol had a streak when it came to his daughter, mi-cheol (she did have part of his name, after all). he could never seem to believe that his daughter would do no wrong, and even when you had told him that she had gotten in trouble, he had asked you "are you being serious?" about seven times before you had broken down and shown him the message.

and so, here you were, sitting in the kindergarten lobby as the two of you waited to retrieve mi-cheol.

seungcheol sat in the chair beside you, glancing down at his watch as he grumbled something under his breath. as a businessman (and a slightly overdramatic father), seungcheol loved when things were speedy, especially when concerning his oh-so-lovable daughter.

seungcheol tapped his dress shoe impatiently on the tile, long eyelashes brushing against his eyebrows as he glared at the constantly ticking clock. sensing his impatience, you place a soft hand on his arm, side-eyeing him as he sighs.

"please, cheol. patience." you sounded like you were talking to a disobedient child—and you were, in a way. seungcheol was just like mi-cheol in that aspect—they couldn't listen to someone for the life of them.

as soon as the thought of your doe-eyed, pouty-lipped baby girl crossed your mind, out she came, backpack in tow as she grinned at you.

"daddy!" mi-cheol runs right past you and immediately clings onto seungcheol's dress pants leg. the smile that breaks on seungcheol's stern features is only one mi-cheol can bring out, and he reaches down quickly, swiftly swooping the four-year-old in his arms as he gives you one last glance before heading to the car.

apologizing on mi-cheol's behalf and signing her out, you follow the two shortly, getting in the passenger's side of the car as you grab the tail end of seungcheol and mi-cheol's conversation.

"so, what did she do?" you ask, knowing good and well it may not be a good idea to hear the story from seungcheol. luckily, mi-cheol steps up to the plate herself, clearing her throat after taking a few sips from her juice cup.

"a boy called me cute, so i slapped him in the face." the sentence is simple, but so absurd at the same time that you can't help but burst into laughter.

seungcheol, on the other hand, is absolutely seething. his eyes are dark as soon as he hears the words 'boy' and 'cute', and you can see him jumping to all sorts of conclusions in his head. his grip on the steering wheel is tight, and he's blankly staring at the road, probably fighting back a profanity or two.

seungcheol was overprotective, everyone knew that—he held both you and mi-cheol to a very high standard, and therefore watched the two of you with a hawkeye. he never let boys near mi-cheol, and lord forbid a guy would try to hit on you—he would let them know their place, quickly too.

"a boy?" seungcheol asks softly (too softly for your liking), and you can see mi-cheol nodding from her booster seat, cup in hand as she lets out a little scoff. "i am not cute."

"oh, baby. you are cute—you just...you don't want a boy telling you that, do you?" you question, and mi-cheol nods, an overdramatic pout similar to her father's adorning her face.

"yeah. the only boy i want to call me cute is daddy." mi-cheol makes a sound that you think may be similar to 'yuck', although it doesn't sound like that in the slightest.

seungcheol’s hard exterior is broken by that sentence in an instant, and he’s smiling from ear to ear in the cutest way possible, nodding as he looks back at his daughter with nothing but pure fondness.

“good girl, mimi.” seungcheol encourages mi-cheol with a proud grin on his face, and you sigh, knowing this would happen—of course seungcheol would say nothing about how his daughter’s actions were wrong.

if anything, he was overjoyed that she realized the rules seungcheol had set in place before she was even born—”boys are a no-no.”

“seungcheol.” you whisper, glaring at him as he catches your gaze. reading the disapproval in your eyes, seungcheol bites back an eye roll before sighing, biting his full lips as he returns to the hard exterior mi-cheol had broken with her confession.

“mimi, sweet baby girl—you shouldn’t handle things like that with violence, okay?. if a boy calls you cute and you don’t like it, tell it to him. don’t let him get away with it, of course, but don’t slap or hit him, okay? will you remember that for daddy?” you can tell it pains seungcheol to give this speech to his sweet little mi-cheol, watching the way his thick eyebrows twitch when he says the words ‘boy’ and ‘cute’.

“okay, daddy. i’ll remember it.” mi-cheol holds a thumbs-up to seungcheol, and he nods, giving her a small smile as he pulls up at a red light. proud of your husband for holding back his overprotective nature, you kiss his ring finger, warm lips ghosting the cool metal wedding band on his finger.

it makes seungcheol chuckle lowly to himself, reveling in your love as he smiles at you, glancing back at his mini-me (who’s currently eating a bowl of cherries).

"you owe me for this, sweetheart." seungcheol whispers, voice laced with a low, suggestive tone as he studies your face darkly. chuckling, you throw your head back, letting it hit the headrest as your hands rest on seungcheol's forearm.

"name your price, cheol. i'll give it to you," you add teasingly, and with the look and smile seungcheol gives you at your words, you already have an idea of what that could possibly be.

[moon-ttokki-x]

oh my god I’m stupid I requested 8, 9, and 39 for the SKZ prompt list but I forgot to ask for which member. Bangchan pretty please 🥺👉👈

hihi this took so long sorry >< . . . this is a lot more angsty than anticipated but i hope it works. i wrote it a little differently that i normally would, but here you go, love~~

stupidly perfect - (best friend!bang chan x reader)

pairing: best friend!bang chan x reader

summary: chan has never noticed how you feel for him, and one fateful evening, you let it all spill.

genre: angsty as hell, idol!au, reader lowkey enters their villain era, mentions of eating and drinking, overexcited maknaes, chan is kinda oblivious in this fic ngl, supportive felix, itzy mentions (yeji, ryujin, chaeryoung if that counts ig), this is super sad tbh

a/n: this took a while tbh . . . div by @ferretmilkshakezzz

⛓️ prompts: 8. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere." / 9. "You can rest now." / 39. "I can't keep pretending I'm fine."

skz masterlist | skz prompt list | part two

"Y/n, do you wanna come to that ramen restaurant with us later?" Jisung tugs at your arm, skipping alongside you. "We've been wanting to go for ages, and we all finally have schedules off tonight."

"Yeah, come with us," Jeongin adds. "It'll be fun."

The maknaes are tagging all around you as you walk down the hallway, trying your best to keep a hold on all the papers you're carrying. It's difficult when they're fluttering around you like overexcited birds.

You'd taken the job at JYPE around four months ago; it was decided after a very long period of doubting and worrying that it wouldn't work out after what happened at your last workplace. But your best friend, Chan, had been super supportive throughout the whole thing, even offering to help you move into your little apartment down the road from the company. He'd brought some of his friends to help with the heavy lifting, and from there, you'd pretty much been adopted into the group he'd formed and was the leader of.

Not like you had a choice in the first place.

But you didn't mind; you'd been worried partly because of the fact that you wouldn't have any friends when you'd moved to this part of Korea; Chan had managed to inadvertently solve that issue without trying. Now, the four excitable boys skipped and bickered around you as you set down the papers on your office desk. Wiping the minimal sweat from your forehead, you sighed and pried Seungmin away from the trinkets neatly lining your bookshelf.

"Who else is going?" You ask as Jisung whines about you coming to the restaurant for the umpteenth time.

Seungmin shrugs, interrupting his friend. "All of the members, you, and a couple of the girls from our dance crew."

You feel your heart sink just as your brain tells you to agree; it's been ages since you went out with the guys, and you honestly couldn't wait for a break. Work was always stressful around comeback season, but you'd all settled into the rhythm of it soon enough. Spending an evening out with eight of your best friends eating some soul food sounded like a good idea. A better idea than spending the evening on the couch in your apartment, eating ice cream in complete silence. Alone.

You bite your lip, anticipating. "Which of the dance crew girls?"

Jeongin shrugs from the sofa, swinging his legs over a disgusted Seungmin's lap as he lounges back. "The usuals; Yeji, Ryujin, Young-hee, and Chae. Why?"

"No reason," you say, turning back to the bookshelf to unnecessarily reorganise something, fiddling with the solid fabric spine of one of your books. "I'll let you know if I'm coming. Now, clear out."

Your last comment doesn't bother the maknaes at all; they know you don't like your office being messed up, so they call goodbyes, and Jisung sneakily pokes your side as he filters out the door. Felix, however, remains.

You try to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest and keep a neutral expression as you turn the dark-haired boy. He looks so different from his usual blonde-haired countenance; however, no less beautiful, and not for the first time do you hold yourself back from carding your fingers affectionately through his hair.

You exhale. "Do you need something, Lix?"

He sits down on your chair, swinging it backwards and leaning his forearms across the back. An air of resignation flows around him. "You're not coming tonight, are you?"

You bite your lip. "I'll see."

His voice is quiet. "You've said that since Chae started hanging around us. Is it because of her?"

You scoff, dropping a pen. "No. Why would you think that?"

Felix leans forward on the chair, nosy. "It is because of her, isn't it? Do you not like her? Is it because of Chan-hyung?"

You whip around to face him, exasperated. The explanation bubbles out of you like molten lava from a temperamental volcano. "Okay, fine! I just- I can't stand seeing her around him. They're so close, and they always seem so wrapped up in each other-"

You cut yourself off then, not wanting to say anything you might regret. Chae is nice enough; she's never done anything explicitly hurtful towards you, though you secretly have suspicions that she doesn't like you at all. But you stay quiet, trying to dissipate the rising frustration blooming in your chest.

Felix is quiet.

You know he knows; he's known for ages about your little crush on his leader. You were afraid to tell him, once upon a time; but all you got in response from the affectionate chicken boy was a hushed giggle and a gentle encouragement to tell Chan how you feel. He hasn't told anyone else about your feelings, and you know he would continue to keep his mouth shut. But you wish, even just a little, that someone else would notice and find a way to get Chae away from your best friend.

"No wonder she likes him too," you say quietly to yourself, sinking into your office chair.

And it isn't a wonder, really. Chan is sweet, and gentle, and kind, and so, so, supportive and admirable. There's not a single flaw about him, except perhaps his slight dislike towards himself and his irritation when it comes to those soft, dark curls that frame his perfect face so perfectly-

You shake yourself out of it. Felix is still looking at you quietly, his head tilted in thought.

"You do know," he says carefully, "that you're closer with Chan that Chae is?"

"But still," you groan. "He always seems so much happier around her, and he always only talks to her when you all go out-"

"How would you know?" Felix cries, throwing his hands up. "You're not even there half the time, and Chan only talks to her because you're not there for him to talk to. He has to settle for her because he's fed up of us, and he's not close with Yeji, Ryujin, or Young-hee."

You sigh and hop up onto the desk, swinging your legs over the side. "I just can't stand it, Lix. Seeing them together..."

His expression softens. "I know, Y/n, and I know how frustrated you get when they're all over each other, but you have to at least try. Come with us. If not for him, then for us. We miss you."

"I'm right here."

Felix sighs softly. "That's not what I meant."

You rub two fingers along the bridge of your nose, trying to think straight. You can't get the images out of your mind; Chan and Chae giggling to each other, her touching his arm, him reciprocating the affection... no one said it would hurt this bad when you watch your best friend fall for someone else.

No one said it would hurt this much when you realise that you're in love with said best friend either.

"I can't keep pretending I'm fine," you say, so softly you're not sure Felix hears it. But he does.

"Then don't pretend," he urges gently. "Get him to fall for you. You're halfway there already, I'm pretty sure. But it's not gonna happen if you're always at a distance from him."

He has a point, you think. But, being as stubborn as you are, there's still that nagging doubt in the back of your mind that Chan will never feel the same way that you do, whether you're with him or not-

"Y/n," Felix says, a little more firmly.

You know exactly what he's thinking; sighing, and then bending down to pick up the pen you dropped earlier, you slot it back into the holder on the desk.

"Fine," you say quietly, trying and failing to hide the tiny smile twitching at the corners of your mouth. "I'll come."

Felix lets out a whoop.

.

You pull your jacket a little closer around yourself as you head round the corner, the evening wind whipping your hair into a state of extreme disarray. Sighing and then spluttering as you pull strands of it out of your mouth and eyes, you duck around people and head to the restaurant, its warm, golden light drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

You're not late, so to speak; you spot the group sitting at a large corner booth with comfy seats, mingling and chattering, and you notice Felix immediately. His face lights up when he sees you, half with relief and half with something else you can't quite decipher. He makes to get up before you're almost tackled to the floor by Jisung and Jeongin, who are pretty much hollering at the top of their lungs.

Minho shushes them insistently as he tugs them off you, bowing before shoving both maknaes back into their seats.

"Y/n," Jeongin says happily. "We didn't think you'd come."

You chuckle awkwardly and settle into the spot next to Felix, trying not to look around for Chan like you always do. "Yeah, I needed a break. Besides, you two would have come for my throat if I turned the invitation down one more time."

"Damn right," Jisung interjects, all three of you dissolving into giggles.

You look around then; not everyone is here. Hyunjin and Yeji are still missing, both Hwangs late as per usual, and you know Changbin will come by a little later, having decided to work out before treating himself for the evening. You make a mental note to stick to your work ethic as well as he does, but it's interrupted by the familiar tone of someone speaking your name.

"You look nice, Y/n," Chan says from next to Felix, who is sitting in between both of you.

Chae is sitting next to Chan, you notice with some sadness and displeasure; her long, pinky-blonde hair is straight and neat, long acrylic nails coming up to brush strands of it off her perfect porcelain cheeks, flushed with the cold. At least, you hope it's the cold and not the effect of Chan's probably flirting before you arrived.

Despite the indignance rising in your stomach, you can't help but notice how Chan looks tonight; his hair is slightly damp from the chilly weather outside, the adorably messy strands of it curling against his temples and nape. His eyes are crescents as he gazes into yours, and you fight the urge to reach over and wipe the faint remainder of strawberry milk off the curve of his plush bottom lip.

You know exactly where he'd bought the little drink carton of it from; there's a vending machine just down the street, one that the boys always buy drinks from before eating out. It was their tradition, and one that you gladly partook in, that is before you became too shy to be around the boys.

Because of Chan and his stupid perfectness.

You suddenly come back down to earth and realise that Chan is still gazing at you; Chae is laughing obnoxiously loud in the background behind him, no doubt to recapture his attention, but all you can focus on is the fact that you're locking eyes with the most beautiful person on earth. And also the fact that you haven't replied to his little indirect compliment, so you just nod and turn back to the table to fiddle with the menu in front of you.

Felix exhales discreetly and you fight a grin, watching as he unpeels himself from the corner of the table. He'd been bending over it so you could lean back to talk to Chan, and he pokes you affectionately in the side as you thank him quietly, clearing your throat in an attempt to get rid of the flush painting your cheeks.

"Could've warned me about how pretty he looks," you mutter to Felix under your breath. He just chuckles and touches your knee as everyone begins to order.

The food arrives just as Hyunjin, Yeji, and Changbin make their dramatically late entrance; they clatter noisily into their seats, and you bump fists with Yeji just as everyone begins to dig in.

There's brief silence as everyone begins to fill their stomachs with soul food, and then the chatter eventually rises again as the members turn to each other to bicker and laugh. You almost snort a noodle out of your mouth as you watch Hyunjin take a hairclip out of his bag to clip his hair back, before realising it's not there. Seungmin, sitting next to him, runs his hand through the boy's kiwi-like hair before turning back to his ramen.

You almost start to enjoy yourself, but there's still that lingering tension that you feel rests in the air between you and Chan; if anyone else has noticed it, they're not saying anything. Felix, noticing your quietness, tries to fill the space between you with small talk and jokes, but it doesn't seem to help. Once or twice, he even brings Chan into the conversation in a bid to try and get you two to converse, but Chae interjects more and more frequently until you quietly tell Felix to stop.

You feel bad because of it; you know he's just trying to help, but it isn't working. And it's beginning to make you feel worse, the fact that it seems not even the dark-haired sunshine boy can get his leader to try and talk to you. And you realise, all of a sudden, that maybe it's not Chan that's the problem.

There are two possible reasons that Chan doesn't seem to want to talk to you; you thought maybe he would talk more with you tonight, considering it's been so long since you've been out with them, but you're crestfallen as you realise that not more than a few words have been exchanged between the two of you tonight.

And it strangely breaks your heart.

The other reason is that Chae might have been badmouthing you behind your back to Chan, or it could be because of the fact that Chan genuinely likes her. You're not sure, but that belief is confirmed as you look across to see Chan holding out his chopsticks to her, bringing a piece of tempura to her perfect, pink lips.

Watching in horror and completely forgetting about the cooling ramen in front of you, you watch as Chae accepts the tempura with a little giggle, batting her lashes at Chan as he reaches up to wipe a crumb off her lip. The sight is so equally disgusting and upsetting that you immediately stand up, moving out of the booth as tears blur your eyes.

"Where are you going?" Jisung calls after you, Felix looking up from his food.

"Bathroom," you call over your shoulder, your voice surprisingly strong considering the fact that tears and beginning to stream down your cheeks.

Not wanting to make a fuss or arouse suspicion from the group, you do actually head to the bathrooms, locking the cubicle door behind you and sinking down against the door. You couldn't care less if it's dirty right now, the only thought in your head the mental image of your best friend and Chae giggling and flirting all over each other, blissfully unaware of your misery.

It's not fair.

"Maybe it's me," you whisper to yourself, sniffling as you rip off a piece of toilet paper, scrubbing at your face. You feel so pathetic and unworthy; what kind of person hides out in the bathroom crying over a guy who probably doesn't even care about them?

Standing up and checking you have your phone and wallet, you sigh as you feel the weight of them in your pockets. Good. You can just leave without having to go back to the table. The last thing you want right now is to talk to anyone, or have to put up a fake cheerful front.

Heading to the back of the restaurant, the once-inviting golden lights now feeling like a spotlight, you emerge out into the street, the cold wind soothing the hot, sticky tear irritation on your cheeks. You head to the parking garage down the street and try to walk as quickly as you can past the opening of the ramen restaurant, lest any of the group notice you walking away.

And they don't, not least until you cross the street and head down the dimly light footpath.

Someone grabs your wrist suddenly and you cry out, whipping your head back so fast to see who it is you think you might have whiplash.

Chan is standing there, his hand solid and warm around your wrist, the wind ruffling his dark hair back from his bare face. You can see the glint of his silver earrings under the streetlights.

"Wait," he pants. "Where are you going?"

You can't fight the hot, wet tear rolling down your cheek and inwardly curse it for escaping. "Home."

"Why?" He asks, concern and worry painting his expression. "Are you not feeling well?"

You fight the urge to slap him; it wouldn't be fair, however much you want to do it. He just doesn't understand. He doesn't understand any of it. And you want nothing more to run into his arms and spill all your thoughts and feelings like you have so many times before, but you can't.

Not this time.

You can't tell Chan that you've loved him since who knows how long; that seeing him makes your heart feel lighter, the way a high schooler might feel seeing their crush in the sunny hallways. You can't tell him how many times you styled your hair to look a little like his, hoping the curls that make him look so handsome might make you a little more attractive too. You can't tell him how many times you ran late for schedules just because you took a detour to his studio to talk with him, even if it was just for a minute.

Even if all of it was a waste in the end. Because he likes someone else, and that someone else isn't you.

So you just shake your head as the tears come streaming down, and rip your wrist out of his grip before turning and walking away. The earth feels like it's shattering around you.

Or maybe that's just your heart.

But Chan doesn't give up; you hear his footsteps continue behind you, hurried and irregular, like he's trying to decide whether to let you go or make you stay.

"Y/n," he pants. "Wait, just- will you stop walking so fast? Please, wait, slow down- What's wrong?"

"Everything's wrong!" You cry out, turning to face him as you throw your hands up. A sob rips through your lungs, face contorting with the force of your tears. "Okay? Everything's wrong."

Chan is silent, one hand out in an unsteady attempt to calm you. "What are you talking about? You're worrying me."

You scoff and kick a stone across the footpath, harshly rubbing a hand across your cheekbone.

"Y/n, please," he pleads, his voice quieter. "Felix noticed you were gone for too long earlier, and I saw you walking out of the restaurant. Please, tell me what's wrong. You look so upset."

"Then stop looking."

He recoils, looking slightly hurt, before it's overtaken by a look of determination. You know that look; it either results in an all-nighter to finish a song track, an attempt to wrangle seven naughty kids, or a hard-to-have conversation. You know it's the last one.

"Please," he says, even quieter. "Tell me what's wrong. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

"It's you," you say, broken with utter resignation.

He takes a step forward. "What?"

"It's you," you repeat, looking away as another hysterical sob brings the wind inside your body. It's sharp and biting, and it brings back some of your courage. But only some.

You raise your eyes to look at him. Maybe this is the last conversation you'll have with Chan, before he decides he doesn't want to be around someone who's in a one-way love story with him. Even if that person is his best friend.

"You don't realise, do you?" You whisper brokenly. "You never realised I was in love with you, Chan. But that's just who you are. You may be kind and compassionate and intuitive, but you never realised why I do what I do, or why I act the way I act around you."

His face is contorted in utter disbelief; whether it's from shock or disgust, you don't want to know.

"I realised around the time you helped me move in," you continue. Might as well get all of it out now. "I looked at you differently after a while. I didn't see my best friend anymore. I saw someone else, someone stronger and more clever and more dedicated and more perfect and flawless. And it was strange, because I realised that you changed so much. Maybe I changed too, but it was different seeing you walking around at the company and going about your schedules, because I felt different about it all. I felt different about you. And I couldn't let it go, not least when we actually talked. I used to be late for most of my meetings and events because I would take detours to see you. Some days I would think about canceling my schedules just so I could be around you more.

"And I love the boys, I do, Chan. So much. But I have to admit, I wouldn't be around them half as much if you weren't there. I felt so drawn to you, not like the way I did when we were friends. I figured that if I didn't want to lose you, I would have to discipline myself. So I did.

"I threw myself into my work; I gave myself so much to do, partially to distract myself, partially to use work as an excuse whenever I was invited out, like tonight. Just because I knew you would be there, and I didn't want to end up spilling it all to you, because I knew it would ruin everything between us. Forever.

"And when Chae started hanging around us, I didn't mind at first; I sort of liked her. But I started hating her because of how close she would get to you, how much you two would secretly talk between yourselves, and it made me upset. So I ended up spending much more time by myself so that I would be able to forget she existed. So that I could forget that she ever entered the picture, and that it was just me and my secret that I kept from you. For so long, Chan. You have no idea how much I had to hold myself back from you.

"Did you assume that I never wanted to go out with you guys? That I never wanted to buy drinks from that vending machine the members always go to before eating out, or that I didn't want to spend time with you? Because I did, Chan. But I forced myself not to, because I couldn't bear to see you, and most of the time I didn't know if Chae was going to be there. I told myself I wasn't going to sit there and watch you be with her, not while I felt so invisible and unseen around you.

"Let me tell you something, Chan," you choke through sobs at him, pointing a finger at his chest as though it were a gun. "Every time Jisung or Jeongin or one of the boys invited me out, I did actually show up. Even if you never saw me. I would watch from a distance to see if Chae was with you; if she was, I would turn around and leave, and go home. If not, I would smile from around the corner as the maknaes begged you for money to buy drinks from that vending machine. And then I would turn around and go home anyway.

"I know every single one of their preferences; even if you didn't know I was there to observe them bickering and choosing, faces lit by streetlight. I would go around to the vending machines at the company and randomly buy their favourites for them, even if you didn't know how I knew. I would buy them for you too, and debate leaving a little note for you telling you how I felt alongside it, and I never did.

"Because, despite all of that, it was all a waste," you snap at him. You're not sure why you're angry; you suppose it's the result of feeling unheard for so long. "It was a waste, Chan. Because you never even noticed how I felt. So don't come chasing after me in the night like this like you care, because it was Felix who told you to come after me, Felix who noticed I had been gone for too long, not you of your own accord. And don't look worried or concerned either, because I've told you what's wrong, Chan, just as you asked. You can rest now."

You can barely see him through the blur of your tears.

"Y/n," he whispers, broken as you feel. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't care," you cry out at him, turning and storming in the other direction. And this time, he doesn't follow, still standing under the streetlight with his hand out, though you're not there to take it.

You sob bitterly as you almost flee around the corner, breaking out into a full-on run, like sprinting can fix the problem, fix your heart and your tears. It doesn't, however, and you feel worse as you bolt pass the crossing light, not caring about its colour. Later you will realise that running with blurry vision and a hysterical, heartbroken mindset was not the wisest idea.

You don't see the car speeding towards you until it's too late.

a/n: *laughs in writer*

[sparklingblu]

Eroverse

Pt.1 - The Invitation

ft. Rei

"Harder, daddy. Harder!"

The sweet moans of the idol beneath you are music to your ears as you piston into her wet folds rapidly, a hand of yours gripping her throat and another kneading her large plentiful tits as she barely manages to stay on all fours on the bed. Her arched back is dripping with sweat and her breath is ragged. Nevertheless, she takes your pounding without complaint, like a good whore she is.

"You like it, huh? You cock hungry whore"

You ask over her mewls resonating around the room as you grip her throat even tighter, depriving her of oxygen.

"Yes...daddy...pound me"

Karina's voice comes out distorted and inaudible but it's impressive how she still manages to make a sound despite your hold on her vocal cords.

"Good girl"

You praise her and bring your palm over one of her asscheeks, which are jiggling with every one of your thrusts. The slap comes down harder than you expect, leaving a red handprint on that porcelain skin of hers. You repeat the motion again, this time on her other cheek, making it jiggle even more, marking it with your handprints as well. Maybe Karina squeals but it blends into her moans and the sound of her breath which is becoming even more shallow with how long you have been choking her.

You would have never thought you would have the chance to see Karina in real life , left alone fuck her. You have always drooled over the bounce of her huge tits and her curves as you jerk off to her fancams again and again. You would even get hard just from seeing that AI like face of her. However, these days are over as you claim her body as your own with your cock.

Karina's eyes begin to roll into the back of her head as she is cut off from the supply of her life force, oxygen, for too long. That doesn't make you decrease your pace or lessen the hold on her throat either. The only supply she needs to live right now is your cum.

As Karina's body becomes limp like a lifeless doll, you start to feel your high slowly approaching. That sensation in your stomach that travels down to your pelvis and ultimately to your shaft.

"Gonna cum, Karina, don't waste a drop"

You order as your flood gates finally open and Karina open her mouth to let out her final moan, but the sound that comes out is-

"Ring ring ring"

Your eyes flutter open as the alarm clock wakes you from your blissful dream.

"You are an idiot, Michael"

You mutter to yourself as you turn off the alarm. You? Fucking Karina? Yeah, sure, that can happen when pigs fly. You sit up in your bed, only to find yourself rock hard from that wet dream you have been having. That's a matter you should take care of later.

You slowly get off your bed and rub your eyes, the view of your messy room greeting you as usual. The tiny room is stuffed with every single one of your possessions. A shelf against the wall, taking up most of the room and a small wardrobe in the corner which is next to a table and a chair, piled with stationaries and stack of papers.

It's a dump, sure. But it can be considered a luxury for a writer like you. At least you have your own space. You have always dreamed of writing stories and hell, you even have a ten book series planned out in your mind. But in reality, you are barely scrapping by. Going from one publishing house to another to get that novel of yours released that have been sitting on the same table for years. You managed to survive with the money you get from your part time job and sometimes when luck is on your side, some of your articles and poems got featured in some magazines no one read.

"Stop whining" you remind yourself. "You just haven't found your true potential yet" An empty encouragement, yet it gets your mind off the bad stuff. You make your way to the bathroom, brushing your teeth, staring at the wreckage in the mirror which is your reflection. Your eyes were ringed with dark circles and your head throbs with pain from all the shots you chugged down at the bar yesterday after running into some old friends.

You head to the shower and you are about to turn the water on when you see a bigger problem at hand than smelling like a rat dies in your hair. The boner was still there, stiff and hard as ever. That dream really takes a toll on you.

You grab the phone on the sink and scroll through the collection of hundred videos of female idols you have saved on your phone, choosing the best one to jerk off to. There's so much variety to choose from, ass? tits? face? You once heard someone say "Jerking off is not hard, finding the material to jerk off to is" It seems like the case now.

Finally, you land on the video of Rei from IVE. The busty japanese idol in a white top and a skirt. Her tits bouncing with every move she makes. Not the ideal choice but you will settle for it.

You are about to get your hands on your mamba that's ready to pounce when a notification comes up on your screen.

"Still jerking off to Idols? Why not fuck them instead?"

You are confused. What kind of notification is that? It is like someone is watching you right here, right now. Maybe someone is pulling a prank on you? That's impossible because no one knows about your guilty pleasure.

Reluctantly, you scroll down to see the source of the message. On the left side of the notification is the icon of an app, a dark heart shape and its name on top "Ero". You are pretty sure you have never installed such an app on your phone but curiosity gets the best of you. You click on the notification.

Immediately, your screen light up with a warm neon glow as the loading screen popped up, with the same dark heart shape and the name "Ero" in the centre of the screen. After a minute of waiting, you are about to give up and quit the app when the screen shifts. Now, it displays a text box at the bottom of the screen like in video games and the same black heart rotate slowly like a top above it.

The text in the textbox says,

"Welcome, chosen one. Continue to your first quest?"

Chosen one? What in the Harry Potter is happening here? And what quest? Is this some sort of game? And what does it have to do with you jerking yourself off to idols? Million questions swell in your head but of course your curiosity pushes you to click the 'yes' button under the text.

For a moment, the screen is black. Then it lights up with such a bright white light that you nearly got blinded. The light dims, leaving another text box in the middle of the screen.

"First Quest: Rei's Blowjob

Have Rei sucks you off and endure it for 30 minutes"

Your mind is one complete mess, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. This sound like some sort of porn games you play on your laptop. Main character being chosen and all. But this is very much real though you still doubt this is some kind of scam app that steals the information from your phone. Not like you have any data worth stealing though. Another reason to doubt it even more.

As your brain gets blowtorched with questions, your phone suddenly shuts off. Before your fingers can reach the screen to turn it back on, the whole bathroom goes dark. When you say dark, you are not talking "turn off the light at night" dark. Only darkness exists within your vision as if the whole room have been swallowed by the night. You are about to move forward and try to reach out desperately for something to hold onto when your whole body gets washed over by a sensation like getting dipped in icy water. Your body starts to give out, your knees turning to jelly.

"Am I gonna die?"

You think.

"Oh god, I'm gonna die"

The darkness is the last thing you see before you are greeted by it once again as your eyelids close shut.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

The first thing on your mind when you regain consciousness is

"What the hell happened?"

You slowly open your eyes to see a chandelier on the ceiling above. Its yellow lights sting your eyes after seeing only the dark for so long. You slowly sit up, the fatigue in your body is gone, replaced by the lust earlier before you get dragged into this mess by an app. You are still clothless, your mamba springing up like a missel ready to launch.

You stand up, taking in your surrounding. You are in a vast room made entirely of mahogany. In the center of the room is a canopy bed with draping black curtains, opened to reveal the red bedsheets behind. On the console table in one corner rests a black vase holding a single red rose. Apart from it, the whole room is deprived of furniture, giving it a hollow incomplete feeling. The chandelier is the only light source but it is obviously not enough to illuminate the whole room as dark spots are scattered all around the room. If this is not creepy enough, the room has no doors.

Your first instinct is to try to escape but breaking out of a doorless room is easier said than done. Maybe you are dead and in heaven? Sure, if heaven is one dark ghastly room. But you doubt you will get in to heaven. You go back to the source of this problem. That stupid "Ero" app. And what did it say again? A quest, get a blowjob from Rei. But where is Rei?

"Here"

A voice utters from one corner of the room as if answering your thoughts. Your eyes adjust to the dark as a girl emerges from the gloomy spot, emerging from the shadows. It can't be, you think. But no doubt, standing before you is Rei, the japanese member of IVE, dressed in a black low cut sweater dress as if there isn't enough darkness in here and a loose belt wrapped around her waist like she has put it on in a rush. Her dreamy eyes beneath her hazel hair trace your body, studying you and you definitely don't want to be studied while you are butt naked. She folds her arms judgmentally, accentuating the shape of her huge tits under the fabric.

"Master, what takes you so long?"

She asks and you are speechless. Master? This have to be another wet dream. You should have response with some sort of snarky remark but all you can say is

"What?"

You want to bash your head with that vase on the table. A girl is calling you master and that's your first words to her. Stupid as ever.

"Master, I have been waiting for you. What takes you so long?"

This time your response is a bit better.

"Eh, I was busy..."

"I can't wait for that huge cock of yours, I need it so bad"

She whines, gazing at your exposed cock which is hard as ever. This gets you into your mood.

"Then why don't you come and taste it?"

You order, remembering your quest, blowjob. Maybe you can choose other alternatives too but this is a start.

"As you wish master"

Rei kneels, looking up at your cock as if it's something glamorous. The fingers of her left hand close around the base of your shaft, slowly stroking it and fuck, with how smooth her palm feels, you are not sure if you can hold out for 30 minutes for that stupid quest. Her movements are fluid, not too fast or too slow, taking her time just travelling her fingers along your shaft.

"Am I doing well master?"

She asks, looking up at you with her doll eyes.

"Yes, Rei but you have to be better than this"

Rei doesn't answer. Instead, she wraps the rest of her fingers above the space over the first ones and start stroking your cock faster. The friction sending jolts after jolts of pleasure through you body. Her fingers work like magic, with just the right grip and the right motion. Meanwhile, Rei's eyes never leave your cock, focused on it entirely.

"Like this, master?"

"Yes, Rei. Fuck, don't stop"

You groans as pleasure overwhelms you if every stroke of her fingers, bringing you closer and closer to your edge until you remember the time limit. You don't know what will happen if you fail, but you don't want to find out.

You grab Rei's wrist and stop her.

"Master needs you to use that pretty little mouth"

"Mhmm.....yes, master. I want to feel that hard cock stuffed in my throat"

Rei's filthy words leave her mouth no sooner than she impales it on your cock, stuffing your whole length down her throat. Usually, you expect some foreplay. A kiss there, a lick here. But Rei either doesn't know about or care about it as she engulfs your cock in one swift motion. A groan escapes your lips, the sudden warmth and the tightness indulging you with ecstasy. She holds you in her throat, her nose presses against your pelvis.

You have had blowjobs before but Rei's is on a whole different level. Her throat constricts around you, her neck bulging with the foreign object entering it. You are starting to think she's gonna hold you forever when she pulls back, a loud gag escaping her mouth as globes of saliva drop to the ground, the remnants connecting your tip and her lips in silky strings.

You expect her to take a breather but nevertheless she immediately went down on your cock again, taking it back into her warm cavern as she devours it like a hungry beast. Her plump lips sealed around your shaft as she bobs up and down with unyielding speed. Every single movement of hers seem calculated, designed to pleasure you in every way possible. The way her tongue traces the underside of your shaft, the way she moans around your cock, the intentional gagging sounds she makes ever so often. It's like a well organized orchestra with the instruments being her lips, tongue and her throat.

Saliva escapes from the corner of her lips with every bob, dripping down to her thighs and her cleavage, staining her black dress even blacker. You hold a tight grip on her hair, tying it in a lock in your grasp. Finally, she pulls back, leaving only the tip inside her mouth as her fingers envelope you shaft once again, stroking it so fast you think it's gonna start sparking. It might have as well as your body start heating up from her masterclass of a handjob, sweat beads hanging on your temples. You throw your head back, rejoicing in the bliss of Rei's tongue swirling around your head in harmony with her fingers that twist and turn all the way to her lips and back.

You have lost the sense of time, drowned by the euphoric feeling that doesn't seem to be stopping anytime. Has it been thirty minutes? You have no idea. But you are glad you hold out for this long. Time limit or not, you don't want this to end anytime soon.

However, everything have a limit and so do you. As Rei's hand leaves your shaft, only to be swallowed up and deepthroated once again, you start feeling that familiar feeling of the knot in your stomach, unravelling bits by bits. Your cock starts throbbing in the warmth of Rei's throat constricting and relaxing around the tip, as if giving it a massage.

Rei, who's either oblivious to it or doesn't care, suddenly release your pulsing pole from her mouth. She looks up at you and gives you a sly smile, like she knows how desperate you are for release.

"Is Master gonna cum?"

She asks with a smirk and god, you just wants to grab her hair and impale her on your cock again but you don't want to end things sloppily (ironic with how sloppy it already is) but you just nod.

"Cum down my throat master, fill up your slutty whore."

She says opening her mouth, waiting for your move and you instinctively grabs her hair in a makeshift messy ponytail and starts thrusting into her mouth like it's her pussy.

Everytime your cock hits the back of her throat, you get closer and closer to the finale of this rapturous session. Rei holds her gaze to yours, pleading with her eyes to you how badly she needs your cum, how badly she needs to be filled up from the brim.

"Rei....I'm cumming"

You announce as you conclude the act by burying your cock to the hilt into her welcoming throat, unloading spurts after spurts of cum all the way down into her stomach. It seems to go on forever, the flow of cum never ending until it eventually does.

You pulls out your now spent rod from her tight cavern. Rei's mouth was still open, saliva flowing like a waterfall and forming a puddle between the red mahogany floor between her knees, which are trembling nonstop.

"Thanks master"

She mutters, her voice hoarse from being deprived of oxygen.

"Good girl"

You mutter, grinning like a madman. You are pretty sure this definitely isn't a dream. And you just use an idol like a fleshlight. And your quest. Yeah, your quest. The reason you are here. Have you completed it?

As you are reflecting yourself, you are engulfed by darkness once again.

"Shit, not again"

You cursed under your breath. Anymore exposure to darkness today and you won't be able to see colors anymore.

"Worry not, chosen one"

A voice boomed all around you as if the darkness have built in speakers.

"You performed well, I expect more from you in the future"

You are about to protest when the same cold feeling earlier wash over you again and your mind goes blank.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

(My first smut and the start of a series, I hope you enjoy it)

[oracle-of-dream]

A Quick Walk

Summary: Being an assistant to an idol is hard work. Being an assistant to Wonbin is somehow even more demanding–especially when he's needy...

Notes: Male Reader, Idol!Wonbin, Assistant!Y/N, Blowjob, Deepthroating, Cum Swallowing, Eating Pineapple, Face-fucking, Whimpering Wonbin, Head-Pusher Wonbin

You had too many things to worry about. Press conferences, hair and makeup, TV shows, interviews on radio, and live performances. So many, all in such a short amount of time... But, of course, you weren't the one in front of the camera. You worked behind them.

The set was full of lights, cameras, and wires. People scurried about as they moved to get the filming underway. It was past midnight and you'd finally reached the final shoot of the night. Once it wrapped up, then you could go the hell home.

You waited in a side chair with your phone, sorting through messages. More offers inviting them to more events; which meant more paperwork for you.

The director called, "Can we get the talent on stage, please? The band is ready."

That was your cue. You approached a dressing room, knocking before opening the door. Slowly, the door opened and you were greeted by a handsome form. A man with shiny dark red hair; his outfit was a black tank top, a knit cardigan, and blue jeans. He was set with an in-ear headphone and a microphone that sat just below his pink lips. When his dark eyes locked onto you, he smiled.

You nodded in reply to his smile as you stayed on task. You leaned past him to speak into the room, "It's time boys, let's get this done quickly so we can get you back home."

Six other voices replied, letting you know they'd heard you. Shortly after, 7 men stepped out of the dressing room and made their way onto the set. The director gave directions, the cameras and lights were properly calibrated, and the music was tested one last time before it was finally time to start.

The men stood together in a line, and the red-haired man stepped forward. "Thank you so much for having us. We are," He turned to signal the others to finish the sentence with him. "Riize!"

You went back to your staff chair, with the other assistants. Your job was done for now unless any of the talents needed something. Then it was your job to spring into action to do anything they needed. You've been working as Riize's assistant for only a few months, but the job's been a rollercoaster. Flying for tours and somehow making time to sleep between all the activities. You weren't their manager, you were their personal assistant–meaning you had to work with Riize much closer. There were seven assistants in total, one for each member. All of them had to be male, for scandal prevention. You were assigned to be Wonbin's assistant.

Wonbin was really not much trouble. He rarely tried to burden you with requests. Mostly, he asked for drinks when he was tired. Or, at least that was how it started...

A break was called during the shoot. The members were allowed to step off set and rest, each went to their assistants to ask for treats and water. But Wonbin approached you with an all too familiar look in his eye.

"Assistant y/n!" He cheered as he approached with a smile, his chin lowered so he had to look up toward you.

"Yes, Wonbin? Do you want some water?" He nodded, accepting the water you had prepared for him. Between sips, he kept glancing at you. You tried not to notice, looking at your phone as you swiped aimlessly.

"Y/n, can I have something else?" His voice peaked slightly, indicating a smirk.

You sighed. "Of course. If you need me to get something I can go down the street and pick up a snack."

Wonbin shook his head. "Can you walk with me? I wanna stretch my legs." He stretched his back, with a slight grunt, letting his shirt lift a bit to show his v-line. Clearly dropping hints of what he wanted.

It was about two months into your time with Riize when Wonbin got comfortable enough with you to ask for his favorite thing. Sometimes Wonbin would get anxious, too excited, or just bored. He'd ask you to take a walk with him. It seemed innocent at first.

You nodded slowly. "Sure, let's go for a walk."

Wonbin held a hand out to you. You took it, and he laced his fingers with yours. Now you were locked in, you couldn't turn back unless he wanted you to. And Wonbin would never skip a walk with his personal assistant.

He took you down a long hallway, walking at a quick pace. He was practically dragging you. He found a secluded corner and pulled you in, forcing your back against the wall as he trapped you in.

"I promise, I'll be quick... I need it today or I'll never make it through this shoot." He took your free hand and guided it through his hair as he rubbed into the touch. Wonbin loved the feeling of hands in through his hair–your hands specifically.

"Can I use my hand?"

Wonbin whined, pushing up against you as he put his weight on you. "No~ that's not good enough. I need those plump lips today." His fingers poked at your lips as he leaned toward you.

You turned your head to the side as you pulled yourself together. If you let him seduce you completely, then it would be serious trouble. "No kissing. You promised."

"Kissing is for only when we're not busy," He scoffed. "I remember. I was just thinking about it... How good they'll look wrapped around it. They're always prettiest that way."

You rolled your eyes, but your heart raced. "Let's hurry before someone finds us," You muttered. Shifting Wonbin to stand upright, you slid down as your knees hit the floor. Your eyes were level with his crotch. "And, please... don't finish inside this time. It left a weird taste."

Wonbin looked offended. "I'll have you know, I've been eating pineapple every day!" You ignored him as you unbuttoned his pants and unceremoniously pulled his jeans to his ankles. "W-Woah! No foreplay?"

"No time."

"Are you sure that it's just me wanting this?"

You didn't even bother to look up at him. The shit-eating grin on his face was audible enough. "I'm just being a good assistant. If you prefer, we can stop." You started to stand but Wonbin's hand pushed your shoulder down.

"Okay! I get it. Quick suck then back to work. Please..." The way his voice trembled at the end of his sentence made you weak. The sound of him begging was something that sent butterflies into your stomach. But you couldn't afford to get more involved than you were already. You peeled Wonbin's waistband slowly before sliding down his underwear. His cock, rock hard and excited to see you, twitched as it felt your breath on it. "Please, y/n," Wonbin pleaded softly, his voice laced with desperation.

"You're so high maintenance..." You sighed before taking his length into your mouth.

No matter how often you did this, Wonbin would always get so... into it. He let out a strangled gasp as your warm mouth wrapped around him. The sensation made him shudder as he covered his mouth.

"Ah! Fuck, y/n, you're perfect." He moaned. His fingers tangled in your hair as his fingers flexed, as he struggled to control himself.

You knew the mission was to get the job done fast so you didn't hold back. You took a steadying breath through your nose before pushing yourself to deepthroat him.

Wonbin's whole body tensed as he slid to the back of your throat. He could feel the way it gripped him, flexing tightly before relaxing as you tried not to gag. "Hyung, holy fuck! Wait–you're so good!" He groaned as he almost buckled over. His other hand found its way to your head, slightly pushing you. His hips jerked as he shook. You knew he started fidgeting once he was close. He also loved calling you hyung in moments like these. "P-Please, just a little slower..." He begged his words loosely dripping from his mouth.

You pulled away to breathe and allow him a chance to compose himself. "You wanna do it?" Wonbin's eyes shook. He couldn't refuse if you were offering, but he knew he couldn't last long if he did...

"Of course, I wanna." His fingers tensed as he pulled your hair, moving you back to his cock. Wonbin's eyes rolled lazily as his hips moved with a desperate speed. You didn't offer to let him control you often–he'd never let this chance pass him. "Fuck, Hyung, you're so tight!" He grunted, and his pace faltered as he tried to hold it. Each stroke was wet heaven as he watched his cock disappear into your mouth. The fatal blow–when you looked up at him, made him lose it. The idol's vision started to tunnel as he focused on your sweet face looking at his. He felt your tongue working over him, the gentle suckles and swirls that you added. It was too much!

His orgasm snuck up on him. It crashed over him mid-thrust. He grunted as his mouth fell open. Instinctively, he pulled up into him, forcing you to take him completely. He bent over, his chest slightly brushing the back of your head as he came. He spilled load after load of hot cum directly into your mouth.

"I'm sorry! S-Sorry! I'm sorry! I can't let go–" His voice was a whisper in your ears, "P-please, swallow. I'm sorry!" It was a storm of pleasure that wracked over his body, as he rode out the aftershocks. He could feel you swallowing around him, milking his dick for every drop, which only made him jerk even more. Finally, once the tremors finished, he slowly let you go.

You pulled away, wiped a tear out of your eye, and put Wonbin back together–packing his cock into his underwear and pulling up his pants. "Good call on the pineapple by the way," You whispered as you guided him back to the set. Filming was just about to start but Wonbin had to see hair and make-up again to get retouched.

You sat back with the other assistants who looked at you with puzzled looks.

"Did you two go for a run or something? Why does he look like that?" One asked.

"The only thing that kid could run is his mouth..." You groaned as you slumped into your chair. You watched him closely as he walked back to the stage.

He noticed you and mouthed an apology to you one last time.

You'd have to get even with him later...

[ashitomarisu]

No offense, SWW looks like the type who would give hell if you double cross her ass.

[cigarettesuga]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ CHARITABLE CAUSES Ꮺ myg

request: Hi!! Im just discovered your blog and your writing is genuinely moving it's so beautiful 🥹 with that being said I would love to request a yoongi x reader fic maybe idol yoongi with actress reader. Maybe they're at a charity event or something and they meet and it's basically love I dunno. Potentially Smutty 👀👀👀

Anyway continue your absolutely beautiful writing pookie <3

pairing: idol!yoongi x actress!fem!reader

genre: strangers to lovers, slow burn, social event tension, emotional isolation, suggestive/flirty atmosphere

warnings: mature themes, strong sexual tension, making out in semi-public setting, suggestive language, swearing, mutual thirst with a side of pining, power plays in eye contact form

word count: 5.6 k

summary: yoongi doesn’t want to be at the charity gala — not when he is the only one doing the promotions, not when all he’s expected to do is smile and survive conversations that mean nothing. but then she walks in: the actress with sharp eyes, a reputation for blunt honesty, and a look that makes him forget how to breathe. what starts as a few shared glances turns into something neither of them can deny — tension thick enough to choke on, every moment charged, quiet, dangerous. and when she dares him to follow her, he doesn't hesitate.

lu's note: hi!! instead of making this one-shot smutty, i decided to make it charged with sexual tension between these two (it definitely has potential for a part two with smut if you guys are interested 👀). alsooo my requests are open atm if you want to send something in!! i think that was all i had to say lmao, thanks for reading

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀masterlist⠀ | ⠀taglist⠀ | ⠀more to read

Yoongi didn’t want to be here.

He was already itching under the collar of his suit, his tie too tight no matter how many times he subtly tugged at it. He shifted his weight, hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored slacks as his manager chatted with some executive he didn’t recognize — or care to. The lights were too soft, the music too polished, and everyone around him wore the same polite smile that screamed networking opportunity rather than actual interest.

He’d done the red carpet, posed for photos with the sponsors, nodded through two glassy interviews, and now he was trying to disappear into a dark corner of the ballroom with a half-glass of something amber and sharp. It wasn’t bad. Just... not enough.

This was what his life looked like now — solo appearances, solo press runs, solo dinners. The other members had gone off to fulfill their service, and though they kept in touch, the silence in the dorms had started to feel louder than any crowd.

He could hear Jin’s voice in his head: just show face, say thank you, and get the hell out before someone asks for karaoke.

Yoongi almost smiled.

And then —

She walked in.

He noticed her before the crowd did. Or maybe they did too, but didn’t quite react the same way.

She wasn’t flashy, not in the usual way actresses made entrances. She wasn’t dripping in jewels or batting her lashes at the cameras. But there was a quiet kind of magnetism to her, like the kind of song that doesn’t hit you until the third listen — and then it won’t leave you alone.

Her dress hugged her body just enough to command attention, but it was the way she moved — unhurried, confident — that made Yoongi straighten subtly, gaze tracking her as she crossed the room like she’d rehearsed it in heels and hardwood a thousand times.

She didn’t look at him.

He told himself he was only watching because she looked vaguely familiar. An actress. He’d probably seen her in something, but he couldn’t place it. And still — he watched.

His manager leaned in. “That’s the girl presenting the grant award later. She’s the face of that new indie film with the Venice buzz. She’s kind of everywhere right now.”

Yoongi just hummed, eyes still on her. She laughed at something someone said — a real laugh, the kind that crinkled her nose and tipped her head back slightly. She had no idea he was staring.

But god, she was pretty.

And Yoongi, who had been perfectly content with fading into the wallpaper tonight, suddenly didn’t feel like hiding anymore.

The first time her eyes met his, it was an accident. Probably.

She was in conversation with someone — a producer or a director by the looks of it — her hand delicately holding the stem of a wine glass, one shoulder tilted back in that practiced red carpet way, when her gaze skimmed the room and snagged on his.

Yoongi felt it like a pinprick. Just a flick of her eyes, a pass-through. Except... she didn’t keep moving.

She held it.

Not long. A second, maybe two. Enough for him to feel the soft, subtle shift in the air around him — the moment going still. She didn’t smile, didn’t look away immediately, and Yoongi? He didn’t either.

Her eyes glinted — there was no better word for it — something playful or curious or maybe even amused. Like she knew exactly who he was and wasn’t all that impressed. Like she’d been watching him first.

And then, as if remembering herself, she blinked and turned her attention back to her glass, laughing at something the man beside her said. Not a hair out of place.

But Yoongi stood there, unmoving, with a ghost of heat still crawling up the back of his neck.

He told himself not to look again.

He looked again.

She didn’t glance his way this time — not that he caught — but she shifted in her stance, exposing more of her neck, brushing her fingers along her collarbone. Deliberate or not, it made his mouth go dry.

Yoongi exhaled slowly, bringing his drink to his lips like it might hide the way his jaw had subtly tightened. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention. Or maybe he was, once — when the seven of them would work a room with a mix of chaos and charm — but this? This slow burn stare across a sea of designer suits and string quartets? This wasn’t his usual arena.

And yet...

He couldn’t bring himself to look away for too long.

She caught him watching again twenty minutes later.

This time, she did smile. Brief. Coy. Not even directed at him, not technically — but her lips curled just as her eyes passed over his, like a secret shared under breathless silence.

He swore she was enjoying it.

And still — neither of them moved. Not toward each other. Not yet.

He wondered if she was waiting for him to crack first.

He wondered how long he could stand this game.

The third time he glanced in her direction, it hit him.

Not all at once — more like a slow bleed. A flicker of her profile, the curve of her smirk as she nodded through a compliment, the way her hands moved when she talked — expressive, graceful, like someone used to taking up space on camera — and something in his brain clicked.

He’d seen her before.

Not just here. Not just tonight.

A clip.

Yoongi blinked, tilted his head just slightly, trying to chase it down.

It wasn’t anything dramatic — no scene-stealing performance, no scandal. Just a moment from some variety show that’d passed through his feed a year or two back. She was in a sleek black dress, hair shorter than it was now, legs crossed confidently as a flustered host asked her the million-won question: what’s your ideal type?

She didn’t name anyone. Played coy, the way they all did when management told them to avoid specifics.

But the way she said, “i like quiet people. mysterious. the kind who don’t need to be the loudest in the room to pull attention,” had lit the internet on fire for a hot second.

Fans clipped the moment to death, pairing it with every idol imaginable. But the top comments had mostly been the same:

 “girl just described min yoongi and dipped.”

He hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Just another clip. Another game. And he didn’t watch those kinds of shows unless someone forced him to.

But now? Standing here, watching her command the room with none of the desperation he was so used to seeing at these things, it landed different. It lingered.

She hadn’t approached him.

Neither had he.

And maybe that made it worse.

Because now he knew she knew who he was. Or at least… he suspected. And there was something in her eyes that told him she’d seen the clip too — or heard about it. Something about the way she’d looked at him. Measured. Steady. A slow blink, not surprised — prepared.

He didn’t know much else about her.

Her name, yeah. He’d seen it on posters for a coming-of-age high school drama, the kind stylized in soft lighting and pink overlays. He remembered the interviews after — her deadpan delivery as she confessed she only took the role because her agent guilt-tripped her into it, how she hated how they styled her hair, how she cringed at her own delivery of the “i like you, oppa” line.

He’d chuckled at that interview. She’d been honest. Blunt. Something about that had stuck with him, too.

And now, here she was. Real. Tall. Quietly devastating. And watching him like she knew something he didn’t.

Yoongi finished his drink.

Maybe it was time to stop playing polite.

Or maybe it was time to let her come to him.

Either way, something was happening — slow and certain — and he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop it.

Yoongi slipped away without much thought, half-finished drink abandoned on some linen-covered table, the chatter of the ballroom dissolving behind him like steam off hot glass. His manager didn’t notice — or pretended not to — which he appreciated. One less question to shrug off.

He followed the curve of the corridor, deeper into the venue, where the light dimmed and the press of bodies thinned out. A hall lined with mirrors and floral arrangements led to the back terrace — not quite hidden, but quiet enough to breathe.

He stepped outside.

It was colder than he expected, the Seoul night curling cool fingers into the stiff collar of his shirt. He exhaled hard, hands bracing on the stone railing, the silence settling like a weight in his chest — heavy, but better than all that polite conversation.

This wasn’t his thing.

Never had been.

The constant smiling. The small talk with people who only knew him in keywords. The way the music never really drowned out the static in his head.

It was like being trapped in a room where the walls were made of glass — everyone looking in, and no one ever seeing past the reflection.

He ran a hand through his hair, fingers catching at the base of his neck where sweat had started to cling. He needed ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. Just to be alone.

And then—

He heard it. The soft, unhurried click of heels.

He didn’t turn. Not right away. But he stilled.

The sound grew closer — not close enough to be bold, but deliberate. Slow. Intentional. When he finally looked, she was there.

Not right beside him. Not even within touching distance.

A few paces away, arms loosely crossed, the wind tugging playfully at the fabric of her dress. She stood there like she’d been looking for him — or maybe not. Maybe this was her spot, too.

Her gaze met his. Not shy. Not smug either.

Just... level.

Like they were picking up a conversation they hadn’t started yet.

Neither of them spoke.

She stepped a little closer, not closing the space entirely, just enough to share the moment without asking for anything. Her perfume reached him before her voice did — soft jasmine, something warm beneath it. He didn’t recognize it, but somehow it made his stomach tighten.

Finally, she said, “it’s loud in there.”

Yoongi’s lips curled at the edge.

That was the understatement of the year.

“you don’t seem the type to hate the spotlight,” he murmured, low.

“i don’t,” she replied, coolly. “but sometimes it feels like it’s hating me.”

That surprised a small breath of laughter out of him. Quiet. Real.

She tilted her head. “you always this elusive, or is it just tonight?”

Yoongi finally turned to face her fully, elbow still braced on the railing.

“depends,” he said. “you always this direct?”

She smirked. “depends.”

That hung there between them — easy, almost lazy — and yet the air was taut, like a string drawn back and waiting to snap.

They didn’t move.

They didn’t need to.

Something had shifted. Just enough.

Yoongi wasn’t tired anymore.

The conversation slipped in the same way she had — smooth, unannounced, strangely welcome.

They talked about nothing at first.

Weather. The view. The brand of wine being passed around inside — neither of them liked it, which felt like a strange kind of agreement. She mentioned the ridiculous sponsor gift bags, and Yoongi snorted when she admitted she’d already lost hers somewhere between the coat check and the champagne tower.

He found himself answering her without thinking. Letting his shoulders drop. Saying more than he usually would.

It wasn’t the way she spoke — though she was eloquent, wry, and more clever than most. It was the way she listened. How she let silence hang without rushing to fill it. How her eyes tracked his like she wanted to hear what he thought — not because of who he was, but because of how he said it.

And somewhere along the way, the lines between idle banter and flirtation started to blur.

When he said something dry and slightly cynical about award shows, she grinned and said, “careful, people might mistake you for charming.”

He raised a brow. “you mistaking me for charming?”

She hummed, tilting her head like she was weighing it. “maybe.”

Later, when he told her he didn’t remember the last time he willingly stayed at one of these things longer than he had to, she leaned a little closer and said, “guess I should feel special then.”

And maybe it was the moonlight catching on her skin. Or maybe it was the faint flush of wine on her cheeks. But Yoongi found himself looking at her differently — not just as the girl from the clip or the actress with the sharp tongue, but as someone he wanted to keep talking to.

Someone who surprised him.

Because this wasn’t him.

He wasn’t the type to flirt casually. To linger on someone’s lips when they weren’t speaking. To trace a fingertip over the condensation on the railing just because she had done the same a moment earlier. He didn’t do this.

And yet, here he was.

“I should go back in,” she said eventually, her voice soft, almost reluctant.

Yoongi nodded, suddenly a little too aware of how long they’d been standing out here.

She didn’t move right away. Her eyes held his for a beat longer — unreadable, steady — then she stepped back.

No fanfare. No goodbye.

Just: “don’t disappear completely.”

Then she turned and walked back through the glass doors, her silhouette catching the light for one last flicker before slipping out of sight.

Yoongi stayed where he was, heart beating a little harder than it should’ve been.

He didn’t disappear.

But he didn’t follow either.

Not yet.

Yoongi reentered the ballroom ten minutes later.

He wasn’t even sure what he expected — maybe the same static atmosphere he’d left behind. But things had shifted. Or he had.

She wasn’t looking at him when he stepped back in. She was standing near a circular table, deep in conversation with someone he vaguely recognized from a recent Netflix project. She was laughing, but her posture was loose now, less stiff than earlier. Like the edge had worn down.

He moved toward a small group clustered near the far end — an artist he'd collaborated with once, an old producer, someone from a fashion house — and for the first time all evening, Yoongi stayed in the conversation.

Not fully. Not with his whole attention.

But enough to nod, add in a comment here and there, even offer a small smile.

Because every few minutes, he’d catch her watching him.

Not obviously. Not in a way anyone else would notice.

But her eyes would drift — over a glass rim, past someone’s shoulder — and settle on him. For a second. Two. Long enough for him to feel it.

And when she caught him looking back, she didn’t look away like before.

She held it.

Once, when they crossed paths between clusters of mingling guests, her fingers brushed against his — just barely — like a ripple in silk. He could’ve sworn it wasn’t an accident.

Another time, she leaned in while passing behind him and whispered, “i swear, if one more man over fifty tells me he loved me in that high school drama, i’m gonna fake a fainting spell.”

Her breath skimmed his ear. He had to bite back a laugh.

“do it,” he murmured, without turning his head. “i’ll catch you.”

That made her pause. Just slightly. Enough to send a spark up both their spines.

Later, she found herself standing beside him again. Close enough to smell the warm cedar of his cologne. Not close enough to touch — but the kind of closeness that crackles.

“you’re smiling more,” she said, casually.

“you’re imagining things,” he replied.

She tilted her head. “sure i am.”

And then she did something he didn’t expect.

She leaned in again — not to whisper something snarky, not to tease — just to look at him fully. To see him.

“you look like someone who’s finally letting themselves enjoy the night,” she said, softer this time.

Yoongi didn’t respond right away.

But something shifted behind his eyes. Something open. Bare.

“maybe i am.”

The lights dimmed slightly as the final round of speeches began — polite applause, practiced smiles, a rotation of figures taking the stage one by one. Yoongi had tucked himself toward the side of the room again, half-listening, swirling the remnants of his drink, mostly watching her.

She hadn’t looked at him in a while.

Not directly.

But he felt her everywhere — in the way his pulse tripped every time she laughed, in the ghost of her perfume still lingering near his collar, in the phantom brush of her hand across his an hour ago that he hadn’t stopped thinking about since.

He didn’t expect much when her name was called.

Just the usual — a poised thank you, something light about the cause, maybe a rehearsed joke about the indie film industry. But then she stepped up to the mic in a fitted satin gown that caught the stage lights like molten silver, and Yoongi forgot to breathe.

She was magnetic.

Poised, sure. But loose in her skin. Her smile curved with intention. Her voice rang out, rich and playful, dancing between sincerity and charm so naturally that the whole room leaned in.

She opened with a quip about actor egos. The crowd laughed.

She thanked the organizers, cracked a joke about one of the directors being too handsome to trust with funding decisions, made a subtle nod to the importance of art in lonely times. Yoongi caught her saying something like “art is how we look at each other without saying it out loud.”

That one hit a little too close.

And still — still — she looked at him.

Not every second. But enough.

Between lines. Between pauses. Her eyes would wander the room, always land on him like they’d just remembered where they wanted to be. Like he was the safe place in a room full of pretty strangers.

She wasn’t hiding it anymore.

Not the lingering glance. Not the barely-there smirk when she said something cheeky. Not the way her fingers curled just slightly around the microphone when her gaze dropped to his mouth for half a second too long.

Yoongi leaned back in his seat, elbow resting on the table, and let her look.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t flinch.

But his eyes burned right back.

If anyone was watching closely, they’d see it — the kind of tension that wasn’t meant to be public but had no choice anymore. Like the room had melted away and there were only two people left, pretending to keep their distance while undressing each other with their eyes.

She wrapped her speech with a coy, “thank you for letting me steal your attention, even if just for a little while.”

The applause was thunderous.

But Yoongi didn’t clap.

He was too busy watching her step down, composure intact, but her eyes flicking to him one last time — and that was the moment he knew.

This wasn’t just harmless flirting anymore.

This was a spark waiting to be set on fire.

She excused herself somewhere between the end of a speech and the announcement of dessert, murmured something to the person beside her and slipped from the circle with the same effortless grace she’d had all night. Yoongi didn’t watch her go — not directly. But he saw the way her fingers ghosted along the curve of her clutch, the way her heels tapped against the marble, the way she passed by his side without a word and let her hand — barely — brush the bend of his elbow.

It wasn’t an accident.

Not after the look she gave him — not bold, not obvious — but expectant. Daring. As if to say, you coming, or are we pretending we’re done?

She didn’t look back once.

Yoongi waited two full minutes. Long enough to not make it obvious. Long enough to convince himself he wasn’t being impulsive. And then he stood up, excused himself with a nod, and slipped into the hallway like a shadow.

The corridors were quieter now — muted laughter and the clatter of glassware bleeding faintly from the ballroom behind him. He walked slowly at first, fingers adjusting his jacket sleeve, eyes scanning for her.

He caught a glimpse of her at the end of the corridor — a swish of silver, a turn of her head just before she disappeared right around the corner. Definitely not toward the bathrooms.

Yoongi’s mouth curved slightly, the weight in his chest heavier now — not stress, not exhaustion, but curiosity. Want.

He followed.

She led him through one turn, then another. Past the staff doors, past a roped-off staircase, deeper into the quiet hum of the hotel’s back corridors. They didn’t speak. Didn’t call each other’s names. There was no need. Every step she took was permission.

By the time she stopped, they were somewhere off the map. A tucked-away lounge maybe, or a service hallway that hadn’t seen a crowd in hours. Soft golden light spilled from a wall sconce, bathing her skin in something too tender for a woman who’d spent the whole evening mastering poise. Here, alone, her edges softened. Her back remained to him for a moment longer than necessary, like she was catching her breath.

She turned around just as he reached her.

Neither of them spoke.

They stood there, only feet apart but thick with everything that hadn’t been said. She watched him like she’d been waiting for this — not impatient, just ready.

Yoongi’s gaze dropped briefly to her mouth, then back up to her eyes.

And then he exhaled — a dry laugh, quiet and a little self-conscious — and said, “you sure do know how to make a simple guy feel like the main character.”

Her lips curled, slow and knowing, and for the first time that night, it wasn’t a smile meant for a camera or a room full of people.

It was for him.

She took a step closer, the heels silent now against the carpet, and tilted her head just enough for the light to catch in her eyes.

“there’s nothing simple about you,” she said, voice low.

And Yoongi believed her.

Because right now, with the quiet pressing in around them, with her looking at him like he was the answer to a question she hadn’t known how to ask — he didn’t feel tired. Or distant. Or guarded.

He felt seen.

And if he leaned in now, just slightly — if her hand brushed his chest in return — they both knew exactly what would happen next.

Yoongi didn’t move at first.

He just stood there, still held in her gaze, like some invisible string had been pulled tight between them. But then she took another step. A quiet one. Not enough to close the distance, but enough to change it — the kind of step that said, your turn.

And he answered without a word.

One step.

Then another.

Her eyes never left his. Neither of them smiled, not really, but there was something dangerously close curled at the corner of her mouth — playful, knowing, like she was already writing the next five seconds in her head and daring him to catch up.

“you always this good at slipping away from crowds?” she murmured, voice softer now, just for him.

“you make it easier,” he replied, a little rougher, each word grazing the space between them like a touch.

Another step.

Close enough now that the soft scent of her perfume found him again — jasmine and warm skin and something deeper beneath it that made his breath catch low in his throat.

“i wasn’t sure you’d follow,” she said, eyes flicking briefly to his lips, then back to his eyes like she wanted him to notice.

“you touched me,” he said simply, like that explained everything. and it kind of did.

Her laugh was breathy now, barely a sound. “bold of me.”

“stupid, really,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly — teasing, sharp.

“i’m an actress,” she whispered, voice like silk sliding over stone. “i do stupid things for tension.”

And fuck, that pulled a real grin from him — crooked and short-lived, but there.

Their steps slowed. They were barely a breath apart now.

Yoongi leaned in just slightly, his head tilted like he was listening for something she hadn’t said yet.

“you flirting?” he asked, low.

“what gave it away?” she breathed.

“the way you looked at me like you already had a scene in mind.”

Her breath hitched, just a little, the space between them crackling.

“and what do you think happens in that scene, yoongi?”

His hand brushed the wall beside her — not touching, just close. His voice dipped.

“depends on how long we keep pretending we’re not already in it.”

She didn’t answer him right away.

Her gaze flicked between his eyes and his mouth, lashes low, lips parted just barely — like she was already tasting what would come next. The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t awkward, wasn’t hesitant. It pulsed. It breathed. The kind of silence that thrums with every unsaid thing they’d been building toward since the first glance across the ballroom.

And then, she reached for him.

Not dramatically — no sharp grab or desperate lunge. Just her fingers curling softly into the lapel of his blazer, tugging him forward with a quiet surety that made his pulse jackknife in his throat. Her other hand came up to ghost over the line of his jaw, her touch featherlight, like she needed to confirm he was real. Yoongi didn’t resist. He leaned in, his breath brushing hers now, every part of him humming with how close she was.

“You gonna keep talking,” she whispered, voice low and velvet-wrapped, “or are you finally gonna shut up and kiss me?”

Yoongi didn’t smile, but something shifted in his expression — a flicker of surrender, of heat curling behind his eyes like a storm finally breaking. She’d won. But it wasn’t a victory. It was a truce, a mutual unraveling. And when he moved, it was like a thread snapping loose from both of them.

He kissed her like they were already in the middle of something — no hesitation, no testing the waters. Just lips colliding like a secret finally exhaled. Her mouth was soft but insistent, tasting like wine and want, and Yoongi lost track of his breath instantly. She tilted her head to deepen it, fingers twisting tighter in his jacket as her body arched toward his, like they’d been waiting to fit together like this all night.

He groaned — quiet, buried — and his hand finally found her waist, pulling her in flush. No one was around to see. No cameras, no curious glances. Just them, hidden behind a dozen turns and a door left slightly ajar, lost in a kiss that had been begging to happen since she first caught him staring.

Her lips broke from his just enough to breathe, but they didn’t pull apart.

“so,” she murmured, breath skimming his lips, “still think you’re just a simple guy?”

Yoongi chuckled, low and rough and completely undone. His thumb brushed along the small of her back, anchoring her there.

“no,” he whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth like he couldn’t help it, “not when you look at me like that.”

She didn’t give him time to say anything more after that — didn’t need to. Her mouth was already claiming his in a way that left nothing open to interpretation. This wasn’t a kiss built on curiosity anymore. It was hunger. Permission. Weeks, maybe months, of imagining what it would be like to let go with someone who could match them.

Yoongi melted into it, no — gave into it, let her guide him backwards with one hand curled tightly in his jacket and the other sliding into his hair like she’d been aching to touch it all night. His spine met the wall with a dull thud, but he didn’t care. Her body followed, pressing flush against his, and he made a sound into her mouth that was far too low, far too honest for someone usually so composed.

He wasn’t composed now.

Her lips were hot and eager, tongue teasing at his in a way that had his hands roaming on instinct. One gripped her waist, pulling her closer, while the other flattened against the back of her neck, fingers spread wide like he needed to anchor himself to her or risk falling through the floor. She kissed him deeper — not gentler, not sweeter — just more. Like she wanted to know how far he’d let this go before breaking.

Spoiler: not far. He was already halfway there.

When her teeth tugged on his bottom lip, Yoongi swore under his breath — a low, bitten-off curse — and surged forward, spinning her gently but firmly so she was the one pressed against the wall now. His mouth didn’t leave hers. If anything, it got rougher — not careless, just real. All tongue and heat and breath caught between gritted teeth. She moaned softly, and the sound went straight to his gut, coiling low and tight.

Their bodies moved together like they’d done this before in a dream they’d both forgotten. Her fingers were in his hair, tugging just enough to make his jaw clench. His hands were sliding down her back, settling at the curve of her ass with a grip that was possessive in a way neither of them were ready to name out loud. She gasped when he ground against her — fully, deliberately — and her head tipped back just enough for him to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

"fuck," she breathed, barely more than a sound.

He smiled against her throat. "yeah," he murmured, voice rough and uneven. "that makes two of us."

Her hand slid under the lapel of his jacket, nails dragging lightly along the crisp shirt beneath, and he could feel her trembling — not from nerves, but restraint. It was mutual. They were both right on the edge, poised in that dangerous place where want turns into need, and everything rational starts to fade beneath the weight of it.

She pulled him back in with a hand on his tie, lips crashing into his again — messier now, swollen, open, desperate. Their breaths tangled, their hips pressed, and time stopped existing. All Yoongi could feel was her. All she could think about was him.

And god, if someone didn’t walk down this hallway soon...

They were going to do something they wouldn’t be able to walk away from.

Yoongi’s hand had just slipped beneath the open side of her dress — palm skating the bare skin of her waist, hungry for more — when his phone vibrated sharply in his pocket. The sound was muffled, but the moment they both stilled, it may as well have been a siren.

He didn’t move at first. His forehead rested against hers, both of them catching their breath, their lips kiss-swollen and parted, panting into each other’s silence.

“don’t,” she whispered, fingers fisting gently in the fabric of his shirt. “just let it ring.”

He almost listened.

God, he wanted to.

But reality creeped in like a cold breeze — a reminder of where they were, what this was, who he was. The text buzzed again. Reluctantly, Yoongi eased back a few inches and dug into his pocket, checking the screen with a muttered curse under his breath.

[manager] yoongi-ssi, they’re asking for you. where did you go?

He didn’t respond. Just stared at the message like it had yanked him out of something he wasn’t ready to leave behind.

“I have to go back,” he said, the words landing heavy. Apologetic.

She didn’t answer. Not with words.

Instead, her hand smoothed over the lapel of his blazer, brushing down the fabric until it slipped into the inside pocket. When her fingers withdrew, there was a small folded piece of paper tucked neatly where only he would find it later. Her eyes never left his.

And then she was kissing him again.

Hard. Decisive. Like she was stamping her name into his memory before letting him go. Her mouth moved against his like she’d never doubted they’d meet again — tongue slipping past his lips with one last claim, hands curling in the collar of his jacket to hold him there, to brand him.

When she pulled away, it wasn’t clean. Her mouth lingered, brushing over his one last time, slower now, like she was memorizing the shape of it.

Then she leaned in, her lips grazing the shell of his ear, her nose brushing along his jaw in a featherlight stroke that made him shudder.

“to be continued?” she whispered.

It wasn’t a question.

Not really.

She stepped back before he could answer — before he could do anything. Her eyes glittered with something wicked and unfinished, her mouth swollen, hair slightly mussed, and she still looked like she owned the room even from a dark hallway no one was supposed to see.

By the time Yoongi made it back inside, cheeks still flushed, heart still pounding, the weight of her number pressed against his chest like a loaded gun... he knew exactly how this story was going to continue.

And he couldn’t wait to turn the page.

quietly always, cigarettesuga.

[writingmochi]

one year later...

cast: heeseung ✗ fem.reader (ft. the peeps, and other idols)

synopsis: as the day nears midnight on your twins' first birthday, you and heeseung reflect on the past year of your lives as parents, partners, and eternal life rivals...

genre: romantic comedy, slice of life, coming-of-age, rivals since childhood to lovers, college/university-to-fresh graduates au, parents/family au, established relationship au, fluff, angst, mature content (explicit smut)

word count: 17755 (17.7k) + 12 social media-related pics!

warning(s): dark humor, hardships of being a parent (baby blues, insomnia, etc), hardships of being young adults and fresh graduates in today's economy, mention of human excrements (pee, poop, blood, breast milk), nudity (outside of sex), multiple explicit smut scenes (rough sex and love making), they are freaky ahh, unprotected sex, hand job (m & f receive), oral job (m & f receive), deep throating, dirty talk with pet names (daddy & mama), marking, multiple orgasms, creampies, lactation kink (if there is something that i forgot, let me know)

message of the moon: remember that this story is fiction and do be careful and read the warnings at the top. all the idols mentioned here are not what they are in real life.

happy one year to this fic my gosh! i genuinely still can't believe that people love this fic so much. i just have to write this in return ('cause i have also been thinking about them too) :D thank you so much for giving laurel hell a chance and for loving them so much. hope you enjoy this continuation because we started laurel hell with a prologue. why not an epilogue too? + this post is this blog's 1000th post so cheers for that as well

soundtrack (updated playlist) | read part 1 first!

epilogue: my chest is about to burst

from your point of view, you are looking at your whole world.

your body leans against the doorframe as you twiddle with your fingers, eyeing the little fingers clenched into fists out stretched from beneath her little blanket from the gaps of the crib. on the other side, your sight meets the figure with broad shoulders that carefully sets down the baby boy inside his own crib. he leans down, tugging the baby’s blanket on top of the snoring chest just like he did with the sister and carefully leans down as the sound of a kiss flutters in the room. your cheeks warm as he turns around, a wide smile on his face.

heeseung pulls away from siwoo’s crib as the sound of your babies’ snores ring in tandem. his wide smile stops before receding into his signature smirk alongside a scrunched nose and a subtle wink—rolling your eyes as a result. yet, his approaching presence makes you step back outside to the hallway as he carefully clutches onto the door handle and closes it as quietly as possible. your eyes are staring at each other as you both let out a such a long sigh, signalling your tiredness of today from cleaning the house of the tables you pull out for the guests from the very important event of the day.

your twins’ first birthday.

reaching your hand out, you held heeseung’s wrist before bringing him in front of you. your hands fondling his shoulders, pressing down to give them messages as you both walked towards your bedroom. both of you passing by the glass door to the backyard of your new house as you eyed the hanging decorations from the birthday party. wrapped gifts resting on top of the coffee table in the living room, waiting to be opened after the sunrise of tomorrow. for now, your mind is focusing on the comfort of your bed.

the warm light from the bedside lamp creates a relaxing atmosphere as heeseung’s yawn makes you do it as well. he hums, stretching his neck from the soothing message you voluntarily give. heeseung turns his body around before sitting on the edge of the bed. his legs widen up before he tugs you by your hips into his embrace. his head rested on your loose t-shirt-covered stomach, giving it a peck before he tilts back to rest his chin on you, looking up to your face.

“can’t believe they’re one now,” heeseung mumbles. your hands automatically brushing his black bangs that are longer with his new hairstyle, pressing down on the little freckle on his forehead that you love to kiss.

“yeah. gosh, i still remember the pain when i gave birth to them,” you answered, pulling his hand from your hip as you find the crescent marks on the forearm. his blood mixing with yours in that tub, breaking skin to feel a sliver of your enormous pain. his eyes stare at how you caress the marks left by your nails, lifting the arm up so that you can kiss them.

“i’m still so proud of you for that.” his smirk shows once again, the hand you held moved out of your grip before resting on your waist.

“you should also be proud of yourself, hee, for actually committing to what you said that night on the balcony.”

“of course, baby.” his warm gaze pierces your vision as he leans into your left hand that is still cupping his face. leaning down, you rest your lips on his as he puckers up, both pairs melting into each other, signalled by the sigh coming from both you and him. heeseung moves his body backwards, making you gasp and let go from the kiss as you landed on top of him. playfully hitting his chest, heeseung lets out a small shriek and an offended look that made you gave one more peck to the corner of his lips before you rests your back on your side of the mattress.

your head sinks into the silky smooth fabric on the bed, staring at the ceiling as heeseung’s hand moves to connect with yours—interlocking your fingers. peeking from the corner of your eyes, he also stares at the ceiling with his eyelids threatening to droop from exhaustion. that is before he turns his head to meet yours and a smile spreads across both of your features.

“we fucking graduated. we have one-year-old children now together, and i’m living with you now. teen heeseung must have a fucking field day to rest or else his head will explode knowing the situation he is now.”

“heck, i think us in freshmen year of college won’t even expect this shit,” you uttered back. his eyes flutter as he studies your face and how your chest rises and falls in the same rhythm as his.

“i should probably be glad that yoon keeho’s party got raided two years ago. or else, we wouldn’t have fuck and be living this life now.” his statement raises chuckles from you as you shake your head, still couldn’t believe how everything happens and how you are actually enjoying reaping what you both sow now.

“many life-changing events happen even within the year since siah and siwoo are in our lives.” you curl your body now and turn to face it against his. his grip on your hand is still as tight as ever.

“summarize them for me, baby.” heeseung follows suit, the sultry voice that he uses making you roll your eyes once again from his out-of-left-field replies.

“shitting hell, lee.” you used your locked hands to nudge his collar as heeseung held his head against his other arm now resting upright on the mattress.

“well, where do we start?”

-

heeseung's eyes gaze at your shaking body, quiet sobs filter throughout the living area as he couldn't even focus on the movement from the game he is playing at the screen in front of him. days have passed since your confession. he is one month into parenthood and has an internship in a media agency as a copywriter for the sports column. your smile was always masking the session of crying you let out every time you put the baby to sleep.

he continues to peer at you who are standing by the dining table, letting the milk pumper pull out the breast milk so that he or anyone can also help feed the twin. putting his headset on the desk, the chair skids as heeseung stands up to go to you. your hand is gripping the dining table, trembling as heeseung steps closer and peeks his face beside yours. you don't jump anymore—unlike the many times you had before—and your eyelashes flutter as the evident sniffles don't magically make the presence of your crying self disappear instantly.

your tense body relaxes as a warm hand rested on your waist, the hand that was holding onto the table starts to relax as the other is holding onto the pumper. his hand moves and gently pushes your head to face him—dried trails of liquid glisten your cheeks from the light as he brushed them with his thumb.

"i'm listening…" his short reply earns him a small smile from your swollen face. the humming of the machine fills in the space as he holds onto your waist, one of the hand brushing against your breast full of milk.

taking a huge breath, you answered, "i feel… useless… i don't know- i, i just feel like i should do something else other than taking care of the twins. like, preparing for graduation, internships, or something?"

"our graduation isn't until february 2025. you still have a paper to do for that as well… and other than that," he turns your head to face him, mind scrambling as the highlighted words in relation to postpartum blues shows up in mind.

"you're adjusting to a new normal. everything that you, we, are experiencing will be normalcy. you have me to take care of them. you know that, right, baby?"

the pet name that slips out of his lips makes him nibble on them as you let out a small chuckle, your eyes looking another way as he kisses your temple. "yeah, plus you have that paternal leave notice as well," heeseung hums as a reply before he pulls back.

"i was thinking. maybe you could take a weekend trip with the girls. you deserved rest."

"and you deserved more time with your children too, lee heeseung," you retort, feeling how the tips of his fingers are brushing against the part beneath your swollen chest, holding you close against him.

"yeah, that could work." heeseung speaks like he is talking with himself before he rests his head on your shoulder as he opens the group chat with all eight of the gang. his fingers pressing onto the virtual keyboard as he chats away the plan he had been going for you. your sight following each written word as you nuzzle against him.

what could go wrong by leaving heeseung alone with the twins, huh?

-

"WAAHHHHHH"

"RRAHHHH"

two wailing cries come from two different sides of the room as the twins move on the bean bags of the living area. in the kitchen, heeseung is struggling to pour your now-warm breast milk into the bottles while looking at the instructions you give in the chatbox. siah wake him up early today, brushing on the other side of the bed to feel your dissapearance from the night before as chaeryeong picks you up for the girls' trip—a granola bar in replace with a small note of "good luck, lee :P." he didn't realized just how much of a foodie his babies are until siah even nearly finishes her bottle before the daylight graces his side of the earth.

the rest of the day is filled with burping the babies and see them sleep on the bean bag from most of the daylight. as he played co-op with jeongin on the other side of the screen, he had think "it's not as bad as i thought to be with them the whole day." that is before he rested his head against the backrest of his gaming seat that he looks at the instagram story of your matching picture.

pressing it, he finds the video of the rushing spring wave pushing onto the beach. his memory catches onto your apperance, straightening your body as you walk from the sea when he notices how you are wearing one of his basketball shorts—the 01 is evident as it contrasts the black decelis color—but it matches with your bikini top that shows your cleavage but also the rest of your torso that is returning back to your pre-pregnancy body from the wrapping you have done.

heeseung feels the seething flame inside his eyes as he presses to reply to your story, typing into the box as he watches how you're getting closer to the screen before brushing against the camera right as he hits send.

right as he sees your last message, siwoo's wail rings throughout the room that he even is startled by that. too late to quiet him down as his sister follows along. eyes on the empty bottles on the dining table from the morning that he has to refill.

his hands hold onto the two bottles as he gently picks up siah to join her with her brother on the same bean bag before heeseung picks up one bottle and holds the end onto siwoo's lips, which he latches onto. his free hand caresses siah's head before grabbing onto her bottle and doing the same thing to her. instead, she doesn't seem enthusiastic to drink as her cries slowly fizzle out whilst looking at her brother who is drinking the milk with her big doe-like eyes. heeseung chuckles, thanking the universe that it isn't as cruel as he thought.

however, his chuckles are also being followed, looking down to see the corner of siah's mouth lifting up and she lets out a giggle of her own. heeseung's smile gets wider, the first time he sees his daughter genuinely smile. his hand is still squeezing the bottle. siwoo is drinking from it as he can feel the way his eyes getting blurry to hear the chuckles coming from the baby's lips. he knows that he will brag about this to you when you come back tomorrow. "you want to know what happened? siah smiled. genuinely. her smile is so beautiful-"

the chuckles turn into blurbs as siah's innocent eyes look up to her dad's, finding how he grimaces as the smell floating around is a familiar smell—eyes returning to the culprit who was a blabbering mess full of laughter. heeseung sighs as he squeezes the last droplet of the milk before he replaces it with siwoo's pacifier and then taking care of the bomb that siah just dropped. his hands slowly familiarizing the muscle memory he had trained from the many classes with haseul. siah's legs flailing as he peels off the diaper before quickly replacing it.

he can't help but to want to get better with this. the motivation of his rivalry with you coming once again. and he will still definitely flaunt that he had been the receiving end of his daughter's first smile.

-

you didn't cry as much as the month before. instead, it is replaced with the sound of guitar strumming that has decorated your home's atmosphere for the past few days.

with siwoo at the back and siah at the front, heeseung finishes bringing the two on a stroll through campus and on the park—earning a few nods of respect from the people he had met before as he balances his final classes with taking care of the babies. their giggles decorate more of the day as he lets them reach out their hands on the soft grass while resting onto each of their dad's thighs. the door of the apartment closes gently as the sound of your guitar makes the twins react.

ever since that trip—and the many mentions of siah and also siwoo's smiles towards him—you are motivated than ever to reclaim your old life and assimilate it with the one now. reaching out to yoonah, she is able to put your name in for your old position with the additional apprenticeship with the human resources division. hearing much of mitski's latest album on the trip, you played air guitar chords as you listened to the song and looked at the tab deciphered online, implementing on your guitar that you now bring to work.

hearing the sound of the children singing along to your strumming warms and flutters your heart more and more, resulting in yoonah assigning you to play a large part for the annual showcase: playing your guitar as the background for the children to sing, even making you sing a few lyrics to also help them.

"aahhh!" siah reacted to the guitar as heeseung slowly lifted her up from her place and gently carried her whilst walking towards your shared bedroom where you are practicing. a nudge from his elbow is enough for the door to widen as he can hear siwoo also flailing behind his back.

"my babies!" you exclaimed whilst looking upwards from your position sitting on the floor. heeseung slowly kneels down as he places siah on the floor before opening the belt that holds siwoo's carrier by his chest. siah leans her body against heeseung's folded legs as her hands clap against each other. siwoo following afterwards as he had the widest smile on his face. your boyfriend's hand holding onto their chests to not let them lean too forward. their eyes flitting between your strumming hands and the one on the tab of your acoustic guitar. the chords you're playing are simple ones that heeseung asked for you to teach him, but that, combined with the familiar lyrics of the little mermaid staple, 'part of your world' creates a combination of how nonchalant you are between playing the guitar and singing.

heeseung had heard you sing before—from the mumble singing as you tried to separate yourself from him in your joint road trip between two families during the last year of middle school to the karaoke hangs out as you sing a high school musical song with minjeong—yet it still doesn't make him tired. sometimes he joins in even with a small volume. but with the way you had to practice for the performance whilst also helping the children you take care of to also sing, he had caught you singing numerous of times. when you start to play the guitar once again, he enters the room and hears how your sound dwindles from full one lyrical to just melodical hums. but, whilst waiting for the end of the night as you and he tuck in the twins into their cribs, you let him listen to you play mitski's song on the guitar whilst resting his head against your shoulder; sitting on the floor by the foot of the bed after a long day of wrecking his mind for proofreading his articles. his favourite is 'first love/late spring'—your all-time favorite and the very song your instagram handle referred to.

siwoo pushed his hand forward, fingers moving as his big eyes look at your hand on the fingerboard as he mimics them like he holds a small guitar of his own. siah, on the other hand, focuses more on the sound of your voice and on the guitar. her face agape with her eyes moving around to capture as much of the sound as possible. that is before she shrieks in excitement, her body bouncing around it makes heeseung panic as siah claps her hand.

"amma!"

the chord lingers as you stop strumming, jaw dropped as you look at your daughter who didn't know what she has done, but your eyes lock with heeseung who is also left stunned. and as you drop your guitar on the mattress, it begins.

"YES!!!"

"NO!"

your exclaims clash with heeseung's as you quickly grab siah out of his grip and lift her up in your arms. practically running around the bedroom as your whoops and siah's giggles filter into the room. heeseung pulls siwoo up onto his lap, looking at his mom and sister walking around in amazement and confusion before turning his head to look at his dad, who stares down with a look of determination.

"come on, my son! make me proud. say appa." heeseung speaks the last word as slow as ever, replaying it for siwoo to follow as you picked up your phone to record the interaction. siah's excitement spreads as she taps against your torso while calling for you in her baby speak. the viewfinder from the phone screen focuses on siwoo, heeseung's hand resting on the baby's knees as you can see how their eyes start to resemble each other. siwoo follows the way heeseung's lips move, a little chuckle coming out of his little body as heeseung finally lets out the word, slower and now with found.

"appa?" heeseung says once more.

"appa." siwoo follows, and the grin you were sporting gets wider as your body shakes. heeseung giggles as he tucks siwoo into more of his laps before spreading kisses from his head to his chubby cheeks. "appa!" siwoo shrieks as you slowly walk toward heeseung before leaning down and kissing the crown of his head.

"gosh, they're growing up so fast," you sighed as the twins seemed to be encouraged more to speak. heeseung stares up at your standing self, a smirk on his face as he looks at the two. his mind already be thinking of how warm his home can be.

with the numerous practice that you have done in the comfort, a few weeks has passed in a blink of an eye as heeseung looked at his twins tucked in their formal outfits and a small headset that covers their ears so they won't get hurt from the loud sounds, holding onto beomgyu's and ryujin's shoulders respectively.

heeseung tucked his suit jacket and smoothed down the creases as he eyed the numerous parents coming to the recital to celebrate the graduation of the older kids who will be going to elementary school this year; no need for daycares anymore. you have mentioned some of them—mainly woonhak, hyunseo, yujin, and rami—as you both converse about your day at work, as he reminded you many times of your conflicting feelings from the overwhelming sense of emotions and your still unstable postpartum hormones.

"those children will grow up and remember you taking part in their lives."

you left the apartment for the rehearsals, borrowing his car as he has to then drive beomgyu's sedan with the two people holding onto his babies like their designated car seats. a bouquet of pink flowers and another collection of sunflowers sitting beside ryujin, who is playing around with siwoo in the back seat.

the parents there had their eyes on the twins—their eyes full of reminiscence of when their own kids were that young as heeseung told them of their age: nearly three months old. ryujin holds onto the ticket for the recital to go to their seats, their eyes set on the poster for the disney-themed performance as they look at the credits to find your name: narrated and accompanied by (l/n)(y/n).

the twins couldn't contain their excitement as beomgyu sat on his seat and jumped siah around on his thighs. the boy's eyes looking at his best friend with furrowed eyebrows and bouquets tucked in front of him to hide.

"didn't know she is also narrating the recital," heeseung uttered, confiding with his best friend to whom he can pour his hearts out.

"yeah, but you should've known because she is practicing many disney songs to play." beomgyu shook his head, can't believing even your boyfriend can see the nuance of it.

"that is because you are a fully-fledged musician, beom. and it feels to me like she kept it a secret for me." he rolled his eyes before ryujin cut in.

"she does that. i know little spoilers but you'll see why she only practices songs outside of work," your best friend said as she hold onto siwoo. their eyes were looking at heeseung, who only gave a sigh before the lights dimmed in the rest of the room, shining a spotlight on the lone stool in the middle of the stage.

claps and cheers are heard as heeseung looks to the stage to find you in a dress he had never seen you before. a white sundress that is a perfect embodiment of a cozy summer look. the little scratchiness of the acoustic guitar strap on your back also filled in with your footsteps as you bowed down in front of the parents you recognized and guests that also come along, tucking on the headset microphone closer to your lips.

sitting down and adjusting the guitar to rest on your lap, heeseung looks as you played the song he never heard you play at home, but he recognized it from his childhood. your fingers picking on the strings as your voice rings as he held onto his breath, mesmerize by everything that is you. a intimate and warm rendition of 'you'll be in my heart' from the tarzan movie he had watched when he was also a kid.

"i will be here, don't you cry~" you sing and smile, knowing what happens next as you sing the chorus and the curtains lift up behind you, showing the kids dressing up in their costumes and the backdrop of a beautiful landscape behind you. the sound of the pitter-patters from the stage combines with the children's laughter as you continue to sing, and it made heeseung's eyes sting before looking at his twins, who are also looking at the stage, mesmerized.

as he watches the performance, he now understands your role as the audience surrogate—maybe even parental surrogate. a bridge between the children and their fantasy world and the people watching as you seem to be like an all-seeing and knowing deity, asking questions the audience may also thinking in their head as the children answers, playing the music diegetically and non-diegetically as heeseung can't help but to utilizes the lessons he learned in media analysis class. the children perform with the music as you continue to accompany them until the end.

with the last song—indicated by the appearance of a small orchestra group—ended, the audience stands for the standing ovation. you lead the kids to the front of the stage as you all take a bow alongside the daycare staff who appeared on stage as the team leaders of every group on the stage. heeseung quickly steps out from his seat, and giddiness flows through his body when he sees the other parents allowed to be on stage to give their bouquets to their children.

your eyes were greeting woonhak's parents, who were beaming with joy at their child's performance, saying words about the boy who is hugging onto his dad's legs before you heard someone call for you. turning your body to the voice, your eyes enlarged as you watched heeseung standing up on stage with a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand.

"for me?" you asked as you stopped in front of heeseung, who had a sheepish smile.

"this one? no, this is for the kids," he answered as the disappointed look he expected didn't come. it was replaced with disbelief.

"wow, you even thought of them, huh? genuinely impressed." you slowly hold onto the bouquet as you see the sunflowers are separated. in an instant, you left heeseung behind to approach woonhak as you squatted down and gave him one of the sunflowers. heeseung actually followed you around, giving the flowers to children that you had taken care of as he watches some of them wrapping their arms around your neck.

the paper that encases the stems is all left as you fold it when your eyes see ryujin and beomgyu standing at the front of the stage as they looked up at the crowd there. your legs stride you there as you see your babies realizing the look of their mom there with the exclamations of "ma" ringing between them.

"hello! how are you two doing with uncle gyu and auntie ryu?" you questioned as you sat down in the position where your legs dangled off the stage as the twins reached their arms up to caress your dress.

"they're surprisingly calm during the car ride. siah was actually bopping to the rock songs on the radio," beomgyu replied as he held onto siah gently while still letting her reach out to touch your hand. the boy's eyes moved to your right as ryujin rolls her eyes whilst giggling. you turn to see a bouquet of pink flowers in your eyes as you lift up and find heeseung's heavy breathing face with a sweating forehead staring right at you.

"i was chasing you around. you were so quick," your boyfriend complained as you echoed your question.

"so, this one is for me?"

"of course, baby," he replied as you looked down at the bouquet and pulled it to your hold. your hand brush up his forehead to wipe the sweat before he wraps his arm around your waist and kisses your temple. earning a look of disgust at beomgyu and ryujin as heeseung gives a quick bird flip to the both of them before he reaches down to get siah and siwoo from their hands to your laps to get some photos.

-

"has it been that long since we ate out?" you eyed the hotpot broths that were slowly boiling on the table between the two of you.

"only the two of us? probably before you gave birth," heeseung replied, his forehead framed with his bangs as you both wearing some comfy outfits whilst going out after leaving the twins with your parents.

"in technicality, all four of us were there." you held onto the chopsticks and put the things you ordered into the broth. "so, i can assume that we never go out only the two of us."

"why would we back then? we're rivals, and we can't stand each other."

you hummed as heeseung put the noodles in the mala broth, "yet, here we are. sitting across from each other, dating, and also having kids with each other." he continues.

"you just have to know how much of a relief i will be having today without the twins. i love them, but i also want rest," you said it so playfully exasperated, watching the food being boiled as heeseung tasted the broth on the tip of his chopsticks.

"well, they will be with your parents today and then my parents tomorrow. we'll have the whole weekend to ourselves until we pick them up on sunday. that should probably be enough, yeah?"

"yeah," you echoed. your eyes gleaming as you stare at the boy across from you, not as a baby daddy, but as someone you are interested in.

"i think you promised me to do a tell-all on that girls' trip with you five," heeseung continues the conversation as you sighed.

"unless you also tell me that day you brought the twins to work."

"deal."

both of you blabber as you keep up with each other's lives whilst filling your stomachs up with the delicious hotpot. maybe it is because of your shared struggle that you are very comfortable talking with each other about something deeper. you both actually resolve much of the conflict you had when you were younger, from the time when you stopped him from teasing a friend of yours to him genuinely apologizing for the nosebleed you get. you talked about your friends' relationships too, mainly beomgyu and ryujin that still pisses you off because of beomgyu's "chance" by using you. but you didn't expect that heeseung has some hot takes about it, too.

"it is very shitty of him when i knew of the big picture. i actually had a talk with him about that the first time we met after i moved into the apartment with you. he shouldn't use you like that." heeseung sipped his drink before continuing, "maybe that's why he still isn't as open to you like he used to."

"yeah, i feel it too. but i am glad that he manned up and actually courted ryujin. like, that time that i said to him that because she is demiromantic might be stuck to him because he had to actually get close to her to make her interested in him." you stretch your arms up after licking the broth that was sticking to your lips.

as you put your card down to pay—"for all the numerous times you paid me for my food" you retorted to him—you walk hand in hand with heeseung on the shopping street as you eyed the numerous stores before his eyes landed on the arcade. shaking your head, you let heeseung drag you into the building with numerous neon-colored machines as he leads you both to the air hockey table. a recognisable flame in his eyes as he inserts the credits into the machine.

"come on. don't tell me you're giving up on our rivalry?" heeseung taunts you as he grabs the mallet on his side.

"it never died down ever since you brought up the twins' firsts and who saw it. bring it on!" the puck is released from its dock as you hit it with your mallet hard to the other side, eyes on the goal.

it didn't stop with air hockey; it continued to racing games both on car and motorcycle to even the game where you both have to use teamwork to fight the enemies. in the end, the giddiness of your youths comes back as you walk side by side with fingers interlocked, your other hand holding onto the bag containing your favorite joint fried chicken franchise as a takeaway. the wind of the night blowing the cool air that combats the summer's stinging heat.

pressing the number in the keypad, the familiar chime tells you to push the door handle and the door open. your feet immediatly moves to push your shoes off as you step onto the wooden floor, heading towards the kitchen island that is your dining table. you put down the bag of chicken on it, moving it around on the island until it stands near the edge on the shorter side. that is when you also noticed the sound of loud breaths and hands pressing down on your hips.

"you look so fucking sexy." the familiar voice calls as he brushes his point nose against the crook of your neck, inhaling a little bit before pressing a searing kiss on the skin. "from that dress in the recital to your freaking outfits on that girls trip" he reminded. one of his hands move to the front of you, pressing down onto the tummy where your babies were—nearing the top of your lower lips. the searing kiss trails down until the edge of the collar from your neck before he gave the skin a hard suck.

"i wanna put another baby in you." heeseung's deep tone sends goosebumps up your arms. one of your hands meets the one pressing down your tummy. you expand your neck for him, leaning back against his muscular shoulders as his hold on you moves around your body, one of them squeezing your tense breasts that lets you feel both the pain and pleasure.

"hee, we might get an irish twin, then."

"irish triplet with our current situation. besides..." one of his hands guides your head to face his—even only a glimmer of it felt hot against your cheeks, "i haven't properly thank you for giving birth to our children and the past three months."

your quick movement makes his grip on you loosen and you wrapped your hands around his neck before slamming your lips against his that he replies hungrily. your baggy clothes fold into the form of your current body as he pushes his tongue into your cavern, sensing the saliva polling around the edge of your lips. a gasp come out from your lungs as he lifted you up to sit on the kitchen island. legs already curling up as he stands in between your spreading knees. heeseung's digits continue to trail down against your front as you lean back and find yourself breathing hard the oxygen around you. you help him lift your t-shirt off of yours, letting him see the nursery bra you bought yourself because of your enlarging breasts.

"fuck…" you hiss, letting him touch the much more sensitive nipples because of the arousal as he chuckles as you lift his t-shirt off. the plane of his muscles still looks sexy even without the strain of sports training them when you move your hands across his torso before you cup his jaw and meet his lips with yours once again. kisses that felt more like devouring every inch of your mouth to each other.

"i'm gonna worship you so much," he whispers against your lips, forehead meeting yours as you let your breath intermingle when his two hands reach behind to unhook your bra. your breasts fell from the hold as they landed on your chest. heeseung's hands pushed your shoulder blades so that you sat upright before moving to your perk nipples, all sensitive to touch even with his caresses.

"you have to know…" he cups one of your boobs gently, "when i was heating up the milk for the twins when you were away for your trip." his hands now move to hold you by your ribcage right underneath your armpit, making him able to play to around with them easier.

"i tried a sip." your eyes meet where heeseung's eyes supposedly are looking, yet his focus lingers a little longer on your breasts before he lifts it up to know your reaction. lips agape, you meet his hot stare as he steps closer, brushing his clothed bulge against your covered core. the tips of your nose touching as his eyes pierced into yours.

"i bet it tastes better from the source. please, let me?" you lightly gnaw at your bottom lip, looking between his thick lips to your sensitive boobs as you decipher the hint of desperation in his tone. one of your hands moved to caress the prominent lines on his abdomen.

"i want to see you do it." your words added to your nodding as he gives you a peck on the lips before trailing them down your chin to your neck and your chest. one hand holding yourself upright on the island, his hand cup one of your boobs before squeezing it, making you let out a small moan only for him to hear combined with both of your ragged breaths.

his lips trailed down the curve before flicking the nipple with his tongue. you peer down, focusing on the nipple that heeseung wants to try.

"a little suck first, until you taste it." you guide him as his big eyes open to meet yours while his lips wrapped around the nipple. the little tug from heeseung's force startles you because it feels the same as your babies when you breastfeed. "add a bit more force." his eyebrows furrowed a little to your additional guideline, the hand holding onto your other boob give a light squeeze when he sucked with a bit more force. and when he felt the sweet and warm liquid envading his taste buds, he couldn't help but groan and close his eyes to take it in.

your moans increase in frequency as your eyes continue to focus on your boyfriend's blissful expression from breastfeeding from you. his grip on the other breast squeezes more as you feel his tongue lapping your milk. he pulls off with an evident pop, vision still on the nipples as it squirts a bit more of the milk before landing on your areola, where he trails the tip of his tongue to not let them go to waste. he meets your eyes with a grin on his face before he presses his tongue back into your cavern, letting you taste the milk your body produced.

"it is better. now i know why the twins love the milk so much. i might get addicted to this." heeseung mumbles as he is already on his way to your other boobs. fighting the coolness with his warm mouth as you chuckle from his statement.

"don't hoard the milk for yourself, baby." your hand that was on his abs moved down to his clothed bulge. his eyebrows raised as you communicate with your eyes before you felt his hand following your actions.

"i'll buy you so many food so that you can make more for the twins and me…" your boyfriend utter against your skin before sucking with the same force on your other nipple, feeling the milk getting pulled out as your fingers unbutton his jeans and zip it down. you can't help but lean your head back and whimper, enjoying heeseung's warmth from his mouth lapping up your milk to his fingers already unbuttoning your own baggy jean pants and caressing your moist core.

pulling back as he licks up the rest of the droplets of milk, your touch on his hardened covered cock is gone as he slowly kneels down. he peels away both your pants and underwear to gaze at every expanse of your skin. heeseung kisses every scar around your waist, tummy, and hips areathe past three months about most are the result of how your skin stretcch to accomodate your twins during your pregnancy. he gives special treatment on the stretch marks on your tummy, the ones he also helps with when you were too busy breastfeeding the twins to give the lotion. and then, he continues to trail down, kissing along the slit of your outer labia before finding your clit and the wet core before he licks the pre-cum up.

"i miss this pussy." he groaned then quickly followed with a shriek from you as he laps up your slit, satiating his starvation. your hand locking into the strand of his hair as the gentle heeseung begging to breastfeed is now gone in an instant. your clit slowly becomes more and more sensitive with his licks, combine that with his finger pushing into your walls makes the whole of your body shudder.

"heeseung, heeseung, baby-" you exclaimed, thighs trembling as you held it open to not crush him. he thrusts into your hole with his tongue and presses down on your nub. your toefingers cringing in pleasure as you let the moans come out of you and into the darkness of the night and comfort of your apartment. his hums create more vibration as you brush the bangs covering his forehead, finding his hooded eyes looking at yours and your blissful expression. every thrust and lick is slowly building you up to the release you haven't felt in a while. your hand movement becomes more frantic from the caress of his hair to the hold on his shoulder.

pulling away, heeseung looks at the line of spit connecting his lips to your labia, brushing them with your thumb as he stands up to peel his underwear off, dragging you off the island as you take a quick look at his erect cock, before he brought you to your bedroom. being in the front, heeseung eyes the mirror in the corner of the room beside the window as he brings you both in front of it. the corner of the bed behind you when you eyed your reflection as you hear taps on skin before turning to see heeseung manspreading on the bed, his cock twitches as it becomes harder and straighter.

you bit your bottom lip as you stepped towards him. he turned your body around and pulled you into his embrace. his cock resting in between your cheeks as you can't help but gaze at your body on his. heeseung pulls you a bit upwards as he adjust his sitting, the dick that rested behind you now folding forward as you can feel it grazing your swollen nub. his head appears on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your front as he whispers, "look in the mirror."

from the reflection, you find two naked bodies in a passionate embrace; the warmth from the orange lamp on the bedside table enforces the intimacy as you gaze down to look at your nether region touching. but when you trail upwards, you feel shivers as you meet heeseung's eyes, who has been observing just how good your body is on his. his hand doesn't stop trailing to the stretch marks when you turn your head to find his. your hand holding onto his nape as his kisses are messy, trailing his saliva down the expanse of your neck before your collarbone and shoulder.

"i want you to see just how much you enjoy getting fuck by my cock," his hands slowly moved down to your thighs respectively, "spread them for me."

you folded your knees as you rested the heels beside each side of his thighs, jaw dropping as you can see your hole spreading open in the mirror. one of heeseung's hands caresses the lower lips, spreading it open using two of his fingers against the skin. his kisses along your shoulder continue with his eyes looking at you looking downwards. a hand reaches for his hard member so close to slip inside. you spit onto the palm as you wet his tip up. his sighs is chill on your wet shoulder as he presses down on your clit and your tummy—where your womb is.

"whenever you ready, because i'm going hard," he seductively tells you, biting the lobe of your ear lightly as he sits up and holds himself steady for you to move. when you nudge his tip against your clit, both of you let out a shared moan as heeseung's grip on you tighten. you slide his tip up and down your slit before pushing it into your hole, looking at it spread as you move your hips forward to push him deeper.

both yours and his eyes focused on how your walls spread to take him in—nearly closing your eyes as heeseung whispers, "eyes stay open." the sensation is something that you missed—and something that you don't want to tell him that he is the only one that could fulfill it—as both his and your hips move in tandem to see find the tip of his cock almost slipping out before you both push together, a gasp coming out as he stole your breath when you felt him touching the entrance of your cervix.

"look at you, mama. splitting into two with my dick inside of you." you moaned at his words as the sensation stuns you to brace yourself while heeseung continues to move, making you stabilize yourself by digging your heels on the mattress and one of your hands digging into your open lower lips with a v shaped from your pointer and middle fingers, pressing it close near heeseung's cock for added touch as he groans behind you, still rubbing onto your clit.

heeseung's head rested on your shoulder, pushing down so that it won't let go as his hips move his member into and hands holding you in place. he gazes at your bouncing breasts with each thrust, your moans combining with his as he eyes the nipples where the familiar white droplets are leaking out from the nipples.

"you're so fucking- i can't believe you're mine." he babbles, the hold on your waist moves up to your breast as he felt the stickiness of his saliva and your milk, not stopping the pace of his dick drilling into you. blood rushes into your cheeks when you realise that your breast milk is leaking out. but your boyfriend doesn't even have the comprehension to stop.

"harder, daddy-" you let out a long moan as every sense in your body overwhelms you. your eyes moving between his cock pushing and pulling inside of you, his hands holding onto one of your boobs, and heeseung's face full of grit as he chases his and your highs. leaning forward, you feel the way your back is sticking to his chest from the sweat as you brace your hands on his knees, lifting your hips to meet his as you feel every deep thrust he pushes inside of you. not even a minute later, you can feel your body trembling and your hands waver as heeseung pulls you back again to him. his arm wrapped around your collar before a hand grabs onto your neck and presses down on the side.

"i'm cum-" you announced, tears in your eyes as you see the blurriness of your face and the ruined make up on your face. shaking, you let out a loud moan as you collapse back onto heeseung, who is close because of his pattern of groans.

"cum inside me, daddy," you mumbled out, egging him on as your orgasm makes you open your eyes wide and clear. the wetness from your cum spilling out with his thrust as he holds onto your body tighter and tighter, his lips founding your neck as he gives a long suck while moaning against your skin. his warm semen coats your walls as he continues to groan; gravity does its thing as he fills you up so full that it starts to leak out.

you watch as heeseung's flushed face holds open your thighs wide, eyes on your nether region as you follow him to find his white semen leaking from around his cock as your lips continue to grip on him. your hands is the one that reaches down, picking up a trail of it from a prominent vein on his dick, and places it by your perky nipple, let his cum meets your breastmilk as he reaches up to caress the mixture, your boob, and your hand in the same squeeze—making you tilt your head as he slams his swollen lips on yours. his hums making hum as well as you felt his other hand touching the area where you and he meet, the stickiness of both of your releases on his palm

pulling away from the hot kiss, you mumbled, "one more."

"one more?"

"one more load from you, daddy, please." your hooded eyes meets his, clamping onto his cock as your lips brushes against his. then, a blur of movement pulls out another puff of breath from you.

your back landed on the matress, whimpers came out of you as he pulled out when his body now before you, kneeling on the beds as you spread your legs open for him. both of your cum squeezes out from your moving walls. heeseung doesn't hesitate, pluging deep inside of you as your eyes enlarges and lips widen into a smile.

"YES- ah!" you shouted, his legs grabbing onto your respectively as he pushes down, folding your body as it still shakes with every thrust he pushes in. your hands reaching on the forearms that holding onto your legs, locking you both into the position. heeseung continues to drill into you, your pussy's wetness from your natural lubricants and his semen becoming music into his ears along with the skin slapping and your moans.

"fuck- you can take it, yeah mama? one more load?"

"yes, yes, yes, yes- daddy!" you replied as he let go of his hold on your legs and leaned forward, pushing him deeper as your legs wrapped themselves behind his back. his hands sit beside your head, every movement from him drags you up the bed as he finally leans down and swallow your moans all to himself. his hand grabs onto the breast where you spread his cum on, leaning down so he trail of his off before to your nipple and he suck hard to get the milk out.

"fuck yes!" you exclaimed, hands moving down to his ass where you hold him there to push him more, "breed me, breed me, breed me- i'm cum-"

your body trembles underneath heeseung's as you hold onto his back to press him down against you, riding your high as he chases his own. his hold on your throat continues as he leans so close to make your lips involuntarily kiss each other's with every push. a thumb from the hold on your neck presses down onto your bottom lips to make you suck on them as he hides his head in your neck—holding himself as deep as he can inside of you for last time tonight as he groans for you, adding more load of his release for your walls to hold on.

hands reaching for his head as you slowly brought them in front of you, ragged breathes bouncing on each other as you adjust your breathing to his. a chuckle coming out from both of you as you pulled him down and kiss the freckle on his forehead before trailing down to his fluttering eyelids to his swollen lips. the only sound is from your breath before the familiar ringtone comes from outside of the room.

"get it for me, daddy? i feel wobbly as fuck."

"for sure, mama." he kissed your cheek as he stands up, seeing that he is also stumbling while a few of your releases flung from his dick that whips around everytime he moves—making you giggle more as you heard him say "fuck you" from outside the bedroom. his footsteps get closer as he throws your t-shirt for you before putting the phone on speaker as he tugs onto his own tee. the familiar cry coming from the end of the call.

"(y/n)! are you okay if we move to video call? siwoo seems to his mom so much, he couldn't fall asleep." your mom calls for you from the end of the line, making you quickly pull your back against the wall of the bed and tucking your t-shirt.

"sure-" you're startled by your hoarse voice before clearing them with a cough, "sure, sorry for picking up late. just preparing to get to sleep."

the call quickly changes to a video call as you regard heeseung, who is back from the bathroom, your makeup remover on one hand and a small towel on the other. on the screen of your phone, you are faced with the appearance of your crying son as you clear your throat again.

"siwoo-yah. mama's here," you called out as heeseung sat beside you, hands holding open your thighs as he lightly pats your core and cleans your releases from your lower lips.

hearing your voice, siwoo's cry seems to die down as he looks into your screen to see his mom's face while his grandma seems to bounce him when you notice just how sleepy he is.

"was he asleep before he cried, mom?" you questioned. the screen flips upwards to see siwoo on your mom's lap.

"yeah, i just think he missed his parents. that's all."

"we missed you too, buddy," heeseung calls from off-screen as the look in siwoo's face changes in recognition. pushing your hand forward, you slowly gave your phone to heeseung's other hand and tried your best to not show your mom what you both were doing while she was taking care of her grandchildren to sleep.

siwoo exclaims as he sees his dad on the screen, making you able to his with every caress of the towel against you core from how sore you are as heeseung comes to help soothe him before singing the lullaby he sings to get the babies to sleep—you following him in a whispers.

you settle all morning in heeseung's embrace when you wake from the warm shower you both have last night. all the plans for day two without your twins go away as you both are just there in each other's hands, and your social battery recharges as you spend quality time with each other- including a little cockwarming action as you help strategise his next moves in league of legends.

as the last day ends, siwoo and siah are tucked in their car seats as you sit in between them. the groceries and other things you got today sitting in the front seat with heeseung as he drives all of you home. heeseung's parents' words about how polite these two are give a sense of pride for yourself and their son as you pick them up, holding onto two more bags of goodies his parents and yours also give to the twins and their parents.

after taking a warm shower, you lean yourself back on the bean bag as you hold onto the controller, staring at the projection of the colorful gameplay of it takes two on the wall. a hiss comes out from heeseung who fails another jump on the platforming as you waited on the other end, following with a hiss of your own as you look down on your bare chest to see both the twins breastfeeding on each boob at the same time.

"i'm getting second-hand embarrassment from seeing you struggling so much." you tilt your head to face him on his own bean bag.

"i'm trying here, baby."

"yeah, you are. that's your fault for boasting a bit too much." your voice pitch goes a little high in the word 'bit' as he lets out a full sigh when he finally sees your character on his side of the screen. you recall his words as he bought the game off of the steam marketplace—"cool premise for a game about a married couple and their struggles but played by a young couple whose relationship is blooming from a place of competition," his words echo—yet, he is the one that is mad with himself.

peering down when you hear the sound, siah leans back and coughs as heeseung steps from his bean bag, bringing it beside yours as he picks up siah from your chest and into his arms, patting her back so she can swallow the food against his bare torso. the light refracted from the wall also lighting up your skin; specifically much more comfortable in being topless around each other the blinds are sealed shut.

you held onto siwoo, who is still enthusiastically drinking milk when you heard the burp from siah as heeseung turns his head to face you with a smirk. "one down and one more to go."

"i don't think they will rest soon." you point at your daughter, who is already mesmerised by the moving scenery of the game on the wall.

"that's okay. family bonding time, besides…" heeseung gently holds onto siah as he leans down towards your side, "i can take a sip of your milk again anyway, right? so that one is not lopsided."

rolling your eyes, you caress siwoo's hair before saying, "sure, baby."

heeseung leans down and laps the leftover from siah's feeding time before sucking lightly on the nipple and let him sip little by little, can't help but brushing the hairs of your boys that were clinging onto you as your girl speaks in her baby speak whilst looking at how the projection moves around with your movement on the thumb stick, fascinating her with the world of game and even the real world more and more.

-

"a-wa-wahh?"

"agooo!"

"yeah, i know," heeseung replied as he held onto the twins wearing their matching onesies of the zootopia characters. the bunny ears on siah pushed back so she can look at you who is still finishing your halloween look: adding onto the drawing on your skin so that it could look more "ripped up".

you looked one last time at your halloween outfit, a modern, last-minute outfit based on frankie stein from monster high as the girls finally settled on the outfit theme they wanted to wear. pulling a little bit of your shirt down, you clean up your look as you turn around to find heeseung and your children already waiting for you.

"done- oop, my bag." heeseung rolls your eyes as you approaches the bedside table to pick up the bag that you had prepared.

heeseung stands up as he brings the two babies into their car seats before you both lift them up respectively to the car's back seat—settling them down with the instructions you are familiar with by now. you give a long sigh and sit at the front seat as the car heats up the machine.

"we're probably going to arrive there late," he said, hands holding onto the sterring wheel.

"i mean, your outfit is really easy. your minecraft skin?"

"we could do a family halloween costume, but you already promised to coordinate with your girls. hence, i'm doing the same with my boys."

"i would love to do that next halloween."

a hand reaches for your thigh as you follow it to see heeseung's smirk already appearing. "there'll be a next time, huh?"

"you're stuck with me 'until the heat death of the universe', right?" you reminded him of his own words as you both chuckle. his hand grabbing onto the stick and move it to drive as the car moves forward. "you've send the link to the group chat?"

"yeah, when we were waiting for you. it is mostly your doing so i'll be the one doing the talking," heeseung answered as the car drove out of the parking lot onto the street.

"you don't need to be that serious. it's just a friendly presentation night with the others, but we're doing it together." you lean back against the seat as heeseung continues to give a squeeze on your thigh. a small click coming from his lips.

"you do remember that we are competitive as fuck, (y/n)? even if i go easier on you, it doesn't mean i will do the same with the others." you sighed with his answers, finding the familiar fiery eyes he has on even with a small glance. your hand reaches for his on your thigh, giving him your answer without words as you check on the twins in the back seat.

the car arrives at heeseung's former apartment complex before he moved in with you. jimin was already standing by the parking lot as he approached the parked car when heeseung went out and gave him a huge hug, guiding him to you as he helps carry siah's car seat alongside heeseung with siwoo's.

for this year's halloween, the gang—with the addition of yunjin and jaehyuk as the ones filling in in both of your old rooms and many of your closest friends—wanted it more to be a small get together like the new year's party you both were also invited to: filled with the same faces that you won't probably see during the winter break and eventually, the graduation.

squeels come as you opened the door to the apartment you haven't step in a while to be greeted with yunjin and minjeong who approaches you, arms wide in giving you a tight hug as you look as minjeong's clawdeen and yunjin's draculaura's outfits.

"where are my nephew and niece?" you heard the sound of your long-time best friend who comes in with her ghoulia outfit including her glasses. ryujin arrives as she crouches in front of the car seats where siwoo and siah are seated, leaving them behind to her and you as heeseung greets his boys as jeongin gave him a diamond sword to add to his costume property.

with the main agenda of the whole get-together being the presentation night, the wheel of names calls the name of beomgyu and ryujin before being followed by chaeryeong and jimin to then you and heeseung. the twins settled down on minjeong and jeongin's laps as they played around with them. your eyes focusing on the screen-shared tv as you let out a chuckle on the title of their presentation.

"the desperation of choi beomgyu vs the nonchalantness of shin ryujin," said the girl, speaking in a gradiose tone as you can't help but let out a chuckle because of your involvement in this. however, not the sweetest one, as you can already feel a little tug on your heartstrings at what will be mentioned. your eyes move around to find heeseung's on yours, a look of worry recognisable on his face before he picks himself up and asks chaeryeong in her cleo de nile outfit if he can sit beside you. his hands instantly hold yours, relaxing your shaking hands in his warm hold as you brace for what is to come in the presentation.

"the thing is, (y/n) had a crush on beomgyu for a while, and i genuinely didn't know that the reason he was visiting our place was because he was looking for me. i might have a feeling that it was because beomgyu reciprocate her feelings that he came every week, other than following heeseung's want." ryujin candidly speaks—something that you love about her as she just can't seem to hide something that could resolves somenone's conflict, inside and out.

"and when (y/n) and heeseung had a big fight, she came to me and confessed her feelings. and, i have to say no. other than my focus in pining for ryujin, i just knew that by that time, my best buddy here," beomgyu points to heeseung with an open palm, "was already catching feelings for (y/n)."

"you did?" you turned to face heeseung, his eyes looking at beomgyu before you, and he nods.

"when we opened up to each other, i realized how bad it feels to be treated like that for a long time. then with the whole pregnancey too."

"yet you don't plan on telling me that?" you pushed back to his words, creating a few whoops before giggles as you also let out a smile, knowing how funny this all is. the pout formed on your lips added more to the faux sadness you want the others to see as heeseung pulls you to him.

"hey, hey," he kisses your temple, "in the end, i'm here, right? i'm your boy, baby." you hummed to his answer as you could see ryujin and beomgyu grimacing from your affectionate display.

"you two do it too." you glare at them teasingly while the other couple in the room—minjeong and sungchan—remain unscathed in this whole ordeal.

after chaeryeong and jimin's enlightening presentation about the hardest dance style they have to dance inside and outside of their current studio, you opened the slides you have edited to be met with oohs and ahhs, then chuckles as they see the familiar faces of the presenters as children.

"how we (former basketball players) will assign your positions in a basketball team," heeseung says the title as he is even startled by the picture you put at the start: your pictures in middle school when you both still play basketball. your nose bridge has a bandage right across it as heeseung is holding a basketball by his right arm. you both looked so done with each other as you remembered the smiles your mom had behind his mom who is taking the picture.

"god, you both look so disgusted standing beside each other," chaeryeong mumbles as she continues to laugh as the presentation continues. some of the thoughts written here are from little conversations you have with heeseung from walking across each other, finishing another level of it takes two, or some spoken when you both are so close to sleep. heeseung knew that sungchan would be a good center because of his tall stature, and you chimed in with minjeong being small forward. the funny thing is that you argue a lot with him about where jeongin is supposed to be.

"he's a good shooter. i played with him before."

"but he is also great with his reflexes. he is a practically pro gamer at his point because of streaming."

heeseung can only chuckle as he sees little inclusions of photos from when you were children to his photo from the decelis team. in the last slide as you present, his gaze at the picture of when you were both in elementary school standing side-by-side in your basketball jerseys with the same design. he can't help but look at his twins, seeing a glimpse of the faces in the picture in their still chubby faces.

"any questions?" you call out as you see eunseok lift his hand up.

"i didn't know you were a basketball player before, (y/n). why'd you stop?"

you let out a thin smile to his question, eyes already moving to heeseung who stands before you with his head turned back to observe. "it's because of heeseung, actually. at some point in our life-long rivalry, i got tired of keeping up with him and decided to stop basketball in high school to go on my own path."

"because i'm the better one between us with basketball." said boy responds as you roll your eyes, "but (y/n) here still has some chops on the court. i've seen it myself and her advice actually made us won the last basketball season."

jimin also raises his hand as you point at him, "do you want to teach your kids basketball someday?"

both of you look towards the twins, who are now sitting on auntie minjeong and uncle sungchan's laps, respectively. their wide eyes are looking expectantly at you both as you could see siah looking at the screen behind you, a glimpse to seeing her parents when they are closer to her age.

heeseung caress on your lower back captures your attention as he gives a small tilt on his head. "i think it would be good to teach them basketball as soon as possible, right, baby? especially since our lease ended next march."

"but you'll be the one paying for the rings and balls and stuff. and…" you peck his cheek, "that's a confirmation that you will help me teach them how to walk."

your comment creates more laughter as you teasingly show your tongue to him and evade his kiss as you end your presentation and sit down, letting minjeong give you both siwoo and siah as they lean their heads against your torso. heesseung's arm rests behind you on the couch as he scoots closer.

-

"wakey-wakey, baby."

heeseung groan as he felt kisses on his puffy face, hands wrapping around his chest as he slowly opened his eyes to see a blurry view of a figure before him. all he could do was give a small smile as he felt a peck on his lips.

"we get around an hour and a half to check out from the hotel. come on," the voice calls to him as he is being pulled up to sit upright. heeseung blows some raspberries before he blinks away the blurriness to find you with your fluffy bed hair, trying to not let your heavy eyelids win against your consciousness. after all, it is your last day in osaka before moving to another city.

genuinely, heeseung felt bad to be outside of the country only with you. but his parents and yours are so happy to have their grandchildren stay with them more. the twins also seem to enjoy it—though you always remind them to not treat them too much. a japan trip is something you and heeseung decided on at the last minute, but it is more in a way that you have also choke him with japanese movies akin to nobody knows, such as drive my car and all about lily chou-chou. you do have to sacrifice much of your schedule to heeseung, who is already noting osaka as his main destination because of mainly universal studios with the harry potter and nintendo area.

you both spend the whole day there, utilizing the expensive tickets for the rides in both harry potter and nintendo areas. he takes a picture of you in the recreation of the hogwarts castle with your house robe alongside the slytherin robe that he is wearing. he was the one who bought the hats from nintendo world with you and your luigi hat, and he with his mario's: completing the look. even for a trip around a week, you've learned more about him because of your situation outside of your comfort zone. he is surprised by your basic knowledge of the japanese language—courtesy of the media you consumed. but he also surprised you by how gentle he is throughout the trip, not interjecting as much as he usually does.

the train ride to kyoto was filled with clear blue skies as you lean against his shoulder with his own rubbing against your arm. the autumn weather added more to the scenery as the colors of the leaves changed and fell, yet some greenery stayed in few specks on the earth. your eyes settled on the moving buildings outside of the wall as you could feel heeseung's steady breaths from the nap he is taking.

during the trip, you both don't really talk as much and enjoy each other's company. with every glance shared between the two of you, you could communicate what you want. you both walked around the neighborhood where the accommodation is: a small cabin by the river overlooking the much more fuller side of kyoto along with a glimpse of its castles and temples. your phone is held in your hand as you can't help but to take a picture of the street you are in—the last lush greenery before autumn brushs it away along with the little glimmer of lights from the wet streets of rain. as you bowed your head at the caretaker who gave you the key, you opened the door to find a quaint house complete with a kitchen and a patio at the back where you can take a look at the beuatiful scenery—something that you will enjoy later in the day.

heeseung's attention is always on you as you both walk around the castle at the center of kyoto, taking picture of you in his mind as you gracefully sightsee and take pictures of what you take interests in. the cold weather brushes against his warm cheeks as he follows you around like you do him back in universal studios—reacting to the mundane things you like about the city itself. much different than what a city like osaka has to offer.

he always has his eyes on you as you look around a small market selling homemade items from pottery to arts that he can't help but to take pictures of candidly, adding to a gallery full of pictures of you he had in his phone. something that heeseung from one year ago would not even comprehend to even make.

you both carried a few groceries back home after eating dinner at a delicious ramen restaurant for your breakfast for the next three days. the sun rays pushing through the branches as you take in the orange of the sunset sky. heeseung keeping up beside you as you two walk slowly—letting you take in the atmosphere.

"i think it's nice if we can find a neighborhood like this for a place to stay. just," you paused before turning your head. "somewhere quaint. it doesn't have to be exactly like this."

"a place where the twins can walk around and we can just live slowly," heeseung added as you hummed.

"you want that? living slowly?" you furrowed your eyebrows at his statement, eyes looking at how even adulting and being a dad has affected him with the dark circles under his eyes from uncertain time of sleep.

"someday. we have to grind to get that though. we barely finish uni and we're thinking about so much. maybe, we can invest in something too. i don't know…" you felt a nudge on your hand from him, "you're the business student out of the two of us. what do you think?"

"i think," you cleared your throat, "investing in something could be good. it doesn't have to be stock because it fluctuates so much. i think gold will be good because it increases every time because of rarity. it's just," shaking your head, you eyed heeseung as you are approaching your accomodation—the light rain landing on your skin. "we now have to think about the future. not just for us now, but for the twins too in their next 18 years of life, and maybe even our legacy that will be with them after we die."

heeseung had a small smile on his face after you mentioned the twins before it quickly turned into something comical, "this is actually the most mature you have ever sounded."

"shush!" you nudge his shoulders as he giggles behind you, jogging towards your cabin as you open the front door to let your hands finally rest.

drinking the warm broth, you both sit on the back patio decorated by the sound of rain pitter-pattering against the roof and the land. the gloomy color gives you more comfort as the green colors pop more from the scenery. heeseung gazes at the heavy raindrops as the tension he carries seems to dissipate along with the flowing water. his ears waiting for your follow up on your conversation.

"so, in conclusion: is the 2024 olympics good?"

"that," heeseung points out, even with his hand showing towards you, "has so many subjective answers that i still even try to figure out."

"hey, you're the one that is saying to me that your company tasks you to create content about the olympics, even for youtube. i supposed you have your opinion about it." you put down your bowl on the small table, tucking your knees to your chest.

"well, if you want an honest opinion of mine…"

"yeah?" your tone showing curiosity.

"i actually like the paralympics better. so many categories within one category that you can talk about. it has much more camaraderie, even between the athletes. plus, i do really like watching wheelchair basketball and goalball. like, the limitations don't stop them." heeseung took a small peek at you before focusing on the scenery before him; the words you've spoken stuck in his mind.

yes, heeseung can see himself living his life in a place like this. maybe he could be a local radio dj and curate local and independent artists like beomgyu and his band. maybe he could be a coach for a small group of kids that fell in love with sports—he doesn't mind learning more about sports other than basketball. maybe he could be a local reporter, journaling every news, both good and bad, for everyone to know. maybe-

"heeseung?"

his inner tangent stopped itself as he turned his body around, looking at how you are holding onto a small box in hand as he furrowed his eyebrows instantly. "(y/n) what-"

"i'm not proposing to you- fuck- okay, hi, um…" you peer down at the box before letting out a huge exhale. "when we were in the market, i found these cute rings. it's thin but it is shaped like a mobius strip, which i think looks cool as fuck."

he holds back on his chuckles as you continue, eyes looking between the box and your face, "i, uh, buy them. for us." you open the box, showing him two thin bands of ring that is like what you described. you scoot closer to him, letting his eyes observe the rings before peering back at you.

"think of it as a promise ring of sorts because…" you flick your eyes away from him, letting him observe your side profile. "as much as i don't want to acknowledge it, you've been there my whole life. as a rival, borderline enemies, a friend, and now a romantic partner. and i just can't see myself living my life without you in it, even if you are freaking annoying. um…"

the big smile on your face as you talked about you two's relationship slowly faded as you cleared your throat, "well, i think this is a promise from me about what you talked months ago. until the heat death of the fucking universe."

he slowly picks up the ring as he gently twist it between his fingers. an amused look on his face as he looks back at you, smiling with an awkward grin and panic eyes. but, he melts it away as he kisses the corner of your mouth.

"here, let me help you." he gently holds your hand as he pushes the ring by your middle finger until it rests by the edge. you placed the box on your lap as you picked up the other ring and slipped it onto heeseung's middle finger, him folding the other fingers and making you giggle.

"it's us against the world, baby." he shows the middle finger up into the grey sky. laughter flying between the two of you as you show your middle finger as well, high up to become the center point of your vision.

heeseung turns his head to face you as he leans forward and catches your attention with a little peck, making you turn your head around as you gaze at him.

"i love you, (l/n)(y/n)."

your eyebrows raised when hearing his words. "i…" his word trails before he lets out a huge smile. a sincere look in his eyes that seems to washed away your doubt as you could feel your eyes starting to water.

"it's true what beomgyu said ever since the start of your pregnancy. but it… grows to us being tolerable with each other, then becoming comfortable, and then becoming open with each other. and," he looks down at the ring adorning his finger, "i always thought i never outwardly call it love. but it is, and your promise ring solidified that-"

his words got cut out as you leaned in to kiss him, a huge smooch before you pulled back and placed your hand on top of his. then, you pushed yourself to stand up, pulling him with you as the rain continued, adding the calmness of the background to your moment with each other.

you brought him to your shared bedroom. the futons the caretaker has said to you both lay down for you to sleep on. but it became a background to your response to heeseung. his eyes still looking at the comfy futon as you turn his head to face yours. he breathes in, letting the scent of you enter him as he puts his hands on your waist like you are on his nape.

"i love you, lee heeseung," you whispered against his lips, letting him feel every movement of the words that you said before giving him a short yet huge kiss.

"let me show it to you." your hands already reaching inside his top, feeling the planes of muscles formed even with some fat in them.

"we only have futons-"

"futons are enough," you answered by his ear. his arms reach up as you pull the top upwards to the ends of his head and hands. a hand reaches to the middle of his chest—feeling how he breathes—before you move to your right. his heartbeat sensed and connects with your pulse.

heeseung's breath is taken away as you push him down on the futon. his arms are pushing against it, holding himself upright. his eyes peering up to you as you peel away your top slowly, making him gulping down his saliva. then, you kneeled down, hand reaching for his nape to bring him back to your kisses—softly caressing his jaw as he can feel how you furrowed your eyebrows to send the sincerity of the love you have for him.

he leans his head back, showing the expanse of his neck that you let your kisses trail down. his groans are covered by the heavy rain, letting him be more open and loud about it. your hand also trails down his torso, rubbing against his nipples before trailing in between his muscles. heeseung looks down at your moving head, feeling the warmth with every touch as you peer your head up to look at him, kissing his evident bulge beneath his jeans.

button and zipper opened up as heeseung lets you pull away his jean pants and boxers, his hardening cock springing up as you spit your palm before stroking him. his hand reached for your hair, brushing it away as he felt how your mouth enraptured the head of his cock. saliva gathering as you brush them along the tip as you then give a suck, heeseung's hand reaches for your cheek and then the jaw.

"love-" he called out. he called out to you as he could feel the hand holding him upright weaken. eyes peering at the way his cock sinks into your cavern along with the slurping sound that added to the sensation of your tounge on the underside. his groans follow along with your own, observing how one of your hands is slipping into your open pants and brushes yourself against the fingers. his eyes widened as he looked at how you pushed yourself downward more, taking him deeper as he could hear you gag, pulling away from him as strings of saliva connected your lips to his member.

you lick them up against your swollen lips, letting him focus his sight on your voice as you stand up, pushing your pants and underwear down in an instant before joining his pants into the pile of clothes by the door of the bedroom. the rain still continues pouring as you can't help but feel just how wet you are and how eager heeseung is by grabbing onto your calves to pull you down.

pushing him back to lay completely down on the futon, his hands move to your waist as you sit on his lap, brushing yourself against his shaft as he heard your whimpers. his heart feels so full and intoxicated for you as the grazes of his hand with the promise ring runs against your warm skin from the lust. then, you reach for his cock as you brace yourself upwards, sliding it around your slit until you find your lower lips, spreading it open with his tip.

"i love you," you say in such a gentle voice, eyes looking at his face before upwards at the ceiling as you sink down onto his cock slowly, letting him feeling every ridge of your walls as they suck on him. both of you let out a moan, your body stretched all out from the sensation as you finally unclasp your bra and letting them fall onto his abdomen. you move them away as you lean your arm against his chest, lifting yourself up and then down to sink him deeper into you until he felt your cervix.

"baby, i love you." he echoes your words with his own sincerity, hands moving up and down your upper body as he lets you take control of the pace, enticing you with his caress against your sensitive nipples. heeseung gazed at how you try to hold yourself by biting your bottom lip, both hands that were on his pectorals now only left one as the other moves to hold onto his knees. your hips now moving in an upward motion, his tip nearing from slipping out until it did from the wetness, making you both groan by the sudden emptiness before you push the shaft back as the head gently moves along your slit and nudge into the hole as you let it pierce into you once again.

your moans started to get louder as heeseung's hands become more frantic. that is when he pushes himself to sit up and embrace you fully in his hold, making your hand move to his shoulders as he gives a suck on the nipple, tasting the sweetness from your breast milk that spills out from how you ride him.

"heeseung…" you gasped, making him lift his head up from the other nipple as you rested your forehead against his, eyes drooping down because of the pleasure as you stayed in contact no matter how close. his hands move to your bottom, helping you by pushing you upwards as you melt away on his cock.

"i'm gonna cum-" your voice whispers against him, making him more determined to chase his high for you as he fold his legs and grind his heels on the ground before he pushes his hips upward, making you both fall on the momentum as you now lay on top of him skin to skin.

his hand reaches to your cheek, rubbing slightly against your butthole before he presses the rim of your lower lip, feeling every movement both you and he are doing as your kisses press against his cheek. heeseung felt how his eyes are rolling backwards into his skull from your orgasm making your lips and walls grip so tight on him, his groans a telling sign for you of his climax as you feel his cum flowing inside of you.

but he doesn't stop and he pushes so that you now laying on the futon. your grip loose yet on his shoulders as you let go for him to take control. legs wrapped on his back as he sets the pace for one more for the both of you. loud moans and groans are replaced with softer whimpers and whines as heeseung deliciously moves into you, as slow as possible as he etched your walls into his mind. your wide eyes gaze at him, your lips mouthing numerous "i love you"s that he can feel when his lips brush yours, connecting them for you to know he will also flaunt that to you. both of your lips brushing against each other whilst saying "i love you" as he increases his pace.

his hand reaches for yours, connecting the rings with each other as he interlocks the fingers between yours. your face is writhing in pleasure, eyes don't want to close to focus back on heeseung. hips moved to different angles so he could reach it all as the rain continues to pour into the raven night—becoming the background of the show of your love to each other until it finally stops.

-

your eyes stayed on the promise finger hanging on your middle finger before a tap on your shoulders startle you, making you turn around to face your best friend. her eyes seems to gleam with tears of joy as she looks down at your outfit and the graduation gown.

"no, no, don't cry again, ryu-"

she wrapped her arms around your shoulder before flinging you around. her hands holding onto her hat as you are with yours. you pat your hand on the back, the sentimentality of it all coming back to you because of how it will become rare to even see ryujin again after being with her for around seven years since high school.

"we haven't even done the ceremony yet," you stated a fact.

"yeah, but i'm going to miss you so much, (y/n). i genuinely miss you after you moved out like a year ago. even with heeseung and his icks." she also stated her fact as you giggled.

"you'll do great like, you graduated uni and already become a creative director for txt? i can't wait to see what you'll do to them in the future. don't cut beom's hair though."

she rolled her eyes at your comment before replying, "he is the one that's going to force to make him cut his hair. but i think he does look good in any haircut."

"don't be all whipped for beomgyu in front of me." you playfully hit her as she wraps her arm around your shoulder.

"don't be like that with heeseung too, lovely." she nudges your cheek with her nose as you gaze at the auditorium where the graduation ceremony will be done. the shadows of the afternoon clear sky pools the ground as ryujin has taken a photo of it with you for her instagram. you both approach your girls, chaeryeong and minjeong, who also wear their own graduation gowns. yunjin is away as she is picking up kazuha so she can give the flower to both her and you.

"wow, we graduating, huh?" minjeong says, her wispy hair touching her cheeks from the wind.

"i'm really, really going to miss you guys so much," chaeryeong says as her hand is placed on the lower part of your back before she continues, "we still are going to do that project, right? the la la land-esque movie?"

you giggled at her questions as minjeong raised her eyebrows as you recalled the scene. a drunken conversation with two bottles of wine in your apartment resulting in a brainstorming idea of making a movie musical similar to la la land. minjeong is handling the movie production and directing, chaeryeong is creating the choreography of it all, ryujin, with her design and creativity, is going for the marketing tactics for posters and such where she works alongside you, who is producing all of it. remembering that project you discussed in your second year reminds you of how these girls are going to be your ride or die even after graduation and you all go your separate ways in life.

"we need to make that happened. our two-year-old dream project. we can even have txt fill in the soundtrack and the rest of the boys help with the script. fully independent." you echoed chaeryeong who is already tugging you in her embrace.

"your business-minded thoughts are flowing, (y/n). gonna have to note that in my phone, wait a sec." ryujin chuckles as minjeong pulls out her phone to actually jot down your sayings, making you pout at her familiar action.

"i'll be missing you, guys." you open your arms wide as they step in. your head on minjeong's shoulder with left arm around chaeryeong and right arm with ryujin. a very tight and warm hug with so many emotions as you also heard the sobs coming from them.

"okay, distraction: where's your babies?" chaeryeong says as she pulls away, staring at you as she wiped her tears away from the corner of her eyes.

"they're with my parents probably this way." you pointed towards the graduate parents supposed to gather at, focusing on searching for the bow you put in siah's hair that is similar in color to the outfit you are wearing. your eyes enlarged as you see what you're looking for, held by heeseung's dad as you arrived there with your girl squad.

"there's mama." uncle lee said as siah's squeal caught your attention before looking to the side to see siwoo in your dad's hold. your mom and heeseung's mom are locking arms as they seemed to walk around the crowd.

"siah!"

"siwoo!"

their aunties gathered for them as you give uncle lee and your dad an exasperated sigh before asking, "where's heeseung?"

"i am here," said boy replying as he wrapped his arm in front of you, pulling you backwards as he kisses the side of your head. turning around, you see heeseung with his boys as they approach the twins. his gown covering the shirt he decided to matched up with your outfit.

hands trailing to the collar, you smoothed down the front of the gown before saying, "you look good, baby."

"so do you, love." he leans to give a peck on your lips before turning your body around to face your friends and families.

"good, you both are here," auntie lee calls to you, still walking beside mom before they both hold onto their phones.

"we got to have a picture of you four, and maybe we can help with your friends also," your mom added.

"we can also help with taking a picture for the family, auntie," beomgyu said as jeongin nodded his head beside him.

"perfect! we have to go fast before the ceremony starts," mom exclaimed as you reached your hand out to carry siwoo while heeseung holds siah. the weight of your baby is far heavier with their growth as they start to be able to grab tight onto the nearest things they can hold.

you settle your body beside heeseung as you tried to make siwoo focus on the camera. that is when you see jimin and minjeong waving their hands behind your mom's stature to capture their attention, making you smile widely at the sight as you pose with heeseung beside you. the first ever family of all four of you, which you want to frame beside both of your diplomas.

-

the framed diploma rested on the wall on top of the table you are tidying in your last touches. the warmth atmosphere of the room combines with the setting sun outside as you turn your body around: admiring the house that you have fully decorated.

with the lease ending in early march, you and heeseung have been searching for a neighborhood you think you can live in. good for you both, but also good for the twins. the search commences even before your graduation, using the place you stayed at in kyoto as a perfect frame of reference. with heeseung's position much more in shape as he is now being brought onto the fields and courts to interview coaches and players, plus to accommodate for your job now but also wanting to have a sense of calmness: you both decide to pick a suburban area that is pretty close to public transport.

and so, when you see a sale sign in front of a house that has a backyard at the end in a quaint neighborhood as you both drive around, you can see the place as your home instantly.

you both are lucky that both his and your parents are very supportive of the decision—"of course, we are. cause you both are our only child and you will then inherit our assets." dad says which uncle lee also agrees with—that they also help you deal with the bank for a loan for the house which you both will have pay off in 10 years. both of you are much more determined when clear objectives are set as you helped prepare in the home economics side of things such as savings for your family's day-to-day lives and the twins' education.

eyes gazing at the house that is fully decorated, you watch the twins play with their toys in the living room. siah is crawling around to go to siwoo, who is playing with a sensory toy. your vision then moves to the set up of the large television on the table where heeseung's consoles settle there beside a shelf full of board games and card games. you could already imagine spending much of your free time here.

looking back at the door leading to the backyard, you are met with heeseung's apparition as he stands there, making you follow him there.

the backyard itself is pretty big and there are garden beds where you could try to garden some vegetables. it is connected to the carpark where your car and heeseung's car are parked. a basketball ring stands tall there with the little one beside it as you can imagine heeseung working out his skills and even asking you to play a 1 vs 1 game with him other than his workout equipment by the patio.

"hey…" you called out, making heeseung turn his head at you.

"hey," he replies with a smirk on his face before he looks away. you both don't really need words to communicate with each other anymore, as even spending time doing other things is enough. knowing deep down that heeseung seems to need space to take in the new house he will come home to.

your eyes have already gazed at the corner of the backyard that will look good with a tree. imagining the big shade of the many leaves added more to the comfort of the home.

"what do you think-" your words are cut off after you see what happened when you turned your head.

heeseung, kneeling down in front of you, his gleaming promise ring sits on top of a velvet box.

"(l/n)(y/n). even with our rich and complex history, you have always been there. seeing me in my highs and lows even though you tease them a lot. i can't see myself living without you. so here i am," a chuckle comes out from him as you echoed with your own, "asking you if you want to be my eternal life rival even after death tears us away from each other."

a pout showing on your lips as your eyes are heating up and tears threatening to fall out when you heard the very words as he flips the velvet box, showing you the ring in the same color as your promise rings.

"will you marry me?"

a sigh came out from you as you nodded, kneeling down in front of him as you gave him a huge embrace. his chuckles tingles before he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, breaking down in front of you as you can't help of the amount of pressure he has althrough out this.

hands on either side of his head, you give him a sizzling kiss before leaning your forehead against his. looking downwards, you find the engagement ring he bought for you as your observation on the details makes your heartstrings tug more. the band is as thin as your promise ring but the gleaming metal doesn't stop there. a flower is also made from metal: a combination of both siwoo and siah's representation in your lives.

as heeseung slip the ring into your left hand's ring finger, your eyes caught onto the movement of your babies as they crawl to approach you. both of your arms open to gather them in your arms as you look at them climbing onto yours and heeseung's lap, respectively. looking at their faces, you could already guess that this will be your whole world.

-

"happy birthday to you!" the song rings as you sing while holding siah in your arms, your eyes gaze at the minimalist decoration for the twins' first birthday and also a house warming party for your family and friends, all from your gang of 8, the rest of your same year first friends, the decelis basketball team players, to even both of your extended families.

"blow the candle!" your mom calls out as you lean forward alongside heeseung, helping to blow the flame out as the wick is near the single candle representing their one year of life. siah seems to follow your lips as you blow away the fire before facing you with that expression. the cake that you homemade stands there cutely before you let them taste the cream whilst cutting it for the guests.

the twins stand whilst holding on the short coffee table as they lick up the cream you gave them, seeing their eyes widening from the sweet taste before they show their smiles before speaking up for you. but, then they started to wiggle their butts together that almost makes you faint as heeseung holds onto to you after placing the cake onto the plate.

you let the twins go around the house, already babyproofing much of your pieces of furniture as their new form of skills of walking is taking over. siwoo was the first one taking his baby steps, walking from the tv table towards you who is relaxing on the sofa before recording it to give to heeseung who is out with his friends. then, siah also has her baby steps on the same day as she lets go of your guidance hand when she approaches her kneeling father to hug him—something you both have been training them to do when one of you comes home.

little shrieks came about from the guests as they looked at the birthday twins walking around the house, playing around with the numerous people there as you and heeseung settled to eat the cake before he tended to the house warming and birthday gifts.

the room is filled with people both you and heeseung are thrilled to see. even your school friends you still keep in touch with are still shocked to see you both together. your hand plays with the engagement ring as you hide them, saving the information for it all at the right time as you and your now-fiance still wear your promise ring to wad off any suspicions. a smile lifts your face as you look across the living room, dining room, and kitchen that are opened with each other.

"they grew up so fast, right?"

a voice asks you as you turn to find beomgyu, a sheepish smile on his face.

"yeah. can't believe they can walk now, even if they are still shaky."

beomgyu hums. the evident awkwardness still flows between you, especially after what happened on halloween when you saw heeseung in a new light. but other than that, you could still see how guilt is eating the boy up, especially after he finally gets the girl that he dreamed of.

"i forgive you, beom," you reply with his nickname, "all of it. i just think that if we still think about all that happened, we won't ever move on."

"i know. i didn't realise i was that easy to read," beomgyu leans his head down, eyes focusing on the promise ring on your right hand.

"hey, no matter what. i still see you as a friend. you are my best friend's boyfriend and i would not stop teasing you for it like you both do to me and heeseung." you both chuckles at your answer as you tap him on the chest with your pointer finger. "besides, if txt has 0 fans, that means i am dead."

the party continues as you introduce the rooms of the house to your friends and family members until evening comes, and you wave goodbye to heeseung's and your parents as the last guests that leave after helping out with cleaning the food and some floor decorations. eyes on the twins, who are already drooping to go to sleep. you both wait for each other to end the day by taking a deserving shower before preparing them to sleep, letting heeseung tuck the two himself.

"i think that's that, right?" you replied to his request, hands already tucking the ends of the blankets as you could also feel how sleepy you are.

"there are many more that you have left, but a summary doesn't always have to include everything."

you roll your eyes and reply with, "you and your pedanticness."

heeseung gives you another kiss on the temple as he snuggles closer to you before fully wrapping his arms around you. even with sleepy eyes, you still grabbed onto your phone as you haven't caught up with the last few hours, especially after you posted something on instagram as his comment that actually makes you have to pull him aside to talk about.

"one more look at your post 'cause i think they have caught onto the big news."

"your fault for actually commenting. i was actually thinking of doing a pretty hard launch by just giving them an invitation of the wedding." you guffawed with him as he tucks his shoulders.

"which we still have to plan for and then the honeymoon and such," heeseung mumbles into the crook of your neck as you press open the app.

"one step at the time, love." you lean your head close to him as you show him the post and the comment section that earns laughter for you both, satisfying enough for you two to end the day with.

taglist: @raeyunshm @leilasmom @evidive @boba-beom @kwiwin @heesw1fe @aloverga @endzii23 @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @cha0thicpisces @y4wnjunz @yeehawnana @beansworldsstuff @kimipxl @blurryriki @amazzwon @sunpov @ineedsomezzz @reallysmolrenjun @stealanity @deobitifull @mheretoreadff @gandaengene @amaraeofsunshine @nyxtwixx

laurel hell taglist: @possibly-zoe0218 @enhypenilycometoaus @jaysupremacy @jungwoneez @erenshawtybae @nctislifue @vixensss @smilefordongil @lhspeachie @b9chira

[zerocoded]

summary: your estranged grandmother left you exactly one thing in her will: a sprawling luxury apartment in the heart of seoul — the kind of place that could singlehandedly cover your entire college tuition if you ever decided to sell it. now you had a penthouse all to yourself, a pink-tiled kitchen you weirdly adored, and a hopeless, slow-burning crush on the absurdly attractive neighbor who barely looked your way.

authors note: here i am uploading this big ass story when i should be totally studying for my finals next week. well, i can't help but be obsessed with these vampire ahh cuties. stream desire unleashed everybody! it is a good ass album. i changed and this is the second prologue of the story. don't ask me why, but i think this one suits better as a prologue and not a chapter.

warnings and tags: sfw content but suggestive • niki is our bestie and i hope we're ok with that • dark themes such as depression, melancholy, killing • landlord!sunghoon x reader • vampire!sunghoon x collegestudent!reader • gore, mentions of violence and blood • description of violence• HEAVY ANGST • poor attempt at comedy • fluff if you squint • bad writing • reader's dad has cancer • complicated mom and daughter relationship • family drama.

word count: 10.9k (pls someone sedate me)

previous chapters: series masterlist.

you should’ve known this was exactly how your mother would reach out for the first time in seven months — not a call, not a text, not even a passive-aggressive emoji reaction to your instagram story — but a forwarded email from a lawyer with the subject line "regarding the inheritance of han ok-ja's estate."

no context. no greeting. just a pdf attachment and the words: "at least your grandmother left you something useful. don’t waste it."

that was it.

your mother, ever the poet.

and by good thing, of course, she meant a multi-million won apartment unit in seoul’s most absurdly exclusive building — a place you’d only ever seen from a bus window once during a high school trip, the kind of place you thought only politicians and pop idols lived in.

you hadn’t even known your grandmother owned an apartment in the city. hell, you hadn’t known she was still alive until she wasn’t anymore.

but that was the han family legacy, wasn’t it? generational silence, weaponized inheritance, and the occasional real estate windfall.

you grew up in boseong — land of green tea fields, gossiping neighbors, and a high school with a graduation rate that would make your seoul classmates flinch. your entire life had unfolded in two rooms above a butcher shop, where the ceiling leaked every spring and the walls knew too much about your parents’ divorce.

turns out college plans were ruined when you were only 12 and discovered your father had cancer — stage 3 colon cancer, to be exact.

you remember the way your mom said it like she was announcing a sale at the grocery store. no softness, no warning. just facts over kimchi stew. your dad, on the other hand, had tried to smile through it, like he was the one who should be comforting you.

you kind of always thought you would forever be taking care of him in boseong. after your parents’ divorce — at thirteen —, you knew no one else would be on your father’s side to fight cancer, so you only imagined that would be your legacy forever. no big dreams, no neon skylines, no designer buildings with their own saunas and private libraries. just him, you, and the rice cooker that only half-worked in the winter.

he was your best friend. he let you paint his nails when you were five and cried with you when your hamster died. he showed you how to ride a bike, how to swear in three different dialects, and how to make the best damn doenjang jjigae in the province. you would’ve done anything for him. and you did. you sacrificed your future before it even had a chance to form. quietly, without question. like it was just part of being alive — giving up everything for someone you loved.

and for years, he let you. even when the chemo worked, even when he got stronger, even when the worst passed and the only thing left was exhaustion and silence and the scent of hand sanitizer still soaked into the kitchen tiles — he let you stay.

but then you graduated high school, and he started asking. don’t you want to go? aren’t you curious about life beyond the fields? you’re too smart to stay here forever.

and by “smart” he meant that you had great communication skills and were part of the very small chess community of boseong — it consisted only of you and two old ladies.

you pretended not to hear him sometimes. because the truth was, you didn’t want to leave. not him. not your routine. not the only person who made life feel even slightly manageable.

it wasn’t until your mother’s email — short, cold, weaponized — that everything shifted. she hadn’t even mentioned the death, just the logistics. how your grandma died three months ago. how your mother and her brothers were waiting for legally open her will, how some of them took advantage, how they fought. and still, she had left something for you. her only granddaughter. 

and when you told your dad, expecting him to scoff or curse or at least roll his eyes, he’d only smiled. that soft, sad smile that meant he’d been waiting for this moment longer than you had.

“go,” he said. “your life isn’t here. it never was.”

at first, you fought. seoul was never your main goal, you never dreamed of getting out of boseong and going to college. you were content with your two part time jobs at the local bar and at the grocery store. you always had good grades in school, good relationship with your neighbors and a great money reserve. 

so you told him that you would never leave him and that you were content with your ok life in boseong. 

but one night you got weak and searched about college applications just right after your shift. you could say the curiosity got the best out of you, and there you were perching in your bed with your laptop in hands in your dirty waitress uniform and greasy hair. at first, you really didn’t found anything interesting, until you decided to search up the address of the building your mother sent you.

you were surprised, to say the least. and for someone who shared the same bathroom with your own father for 10 years and cleaned tables as a way of living, your temptation to got to seoul changed a bit after that.

on the same night, your father told you to go. to let him go. let boseong go and live a life. 

your life.

you talked to him all night, telling him about how you felt about studying topics you never heard of and living in a too spacious environment when all you have ever wanted was to take care of his sickness. he cursed at you so many times that night about your stupidity that you felt obligated to go and get a life beyond the fields.

so you packed. and cried. and pretended you weren’t terrified of being alone for the first time in your life. you moved into a stranger’s home — one who just happened to share your blood — in a building that felt like a five-star hotel married a haunted mansion.

seonghyeon jaega.

a building that at first made you feel too small, too out of place — all clean marble floors and echoing hallways and neighbors who looked like they’d stepped out of a luxury catalog. the hundreds of pictures of the place on the internet couldn’t get close to how the building was terrifyingly aesthetic inside and out.

and when you said terrifying, you meant it. 

the lobby alone had three chandeliers, a grand piano that no one touched and a concierge desk staffed by a man who looked like he hadn’t blinked since 2003. the elevator played classical music, but not in a comforting way — in a this-is-the-last-song-you-hear-before-disappearing kind of way. there was a koi pond in the library for no reason at all, a fully operational greenhouse on the rooftop that smelled like lavender and secrets. the gym was nicer than most hospitals. the sauna had eucalyptus-infused steam and, somehow, free chilled grapes. and you swore one of the mirrors in the hallway moved half an inch every time you looked away. luxurious, yes. but also deeply cursed. like a rich aunt who only gives you money if you promise not to ask what’s in the basement.

you were so scared your first night here that you called your dad before even unpacking, crouched on the pristine floor of the guest bathroom because it was the only place that didn’t echo like a murder documentary reenactment. he didn’t know how to work his phone most of the time — had once accidentally live-streamed himself peeling an orange for nine minutes — but somehow, that night, he figured it out. he stayed on the line with you until you fell asleep, whispering his arsenal of stupid dad jokes like it was a bedtime ritual.

“what’s a vampire’s favorite fruit?” he asked, barely holding in his own laughter. “a blood orange, obviously.”

you groaned. he continued. “why did the skeleton break up with the ghost? … because he could see right through her.”

“dad,” you warned.

“okay, okay, serious one. what’s dracula’s least favorite dentist?”

 “dad—”

 “you. because you’d stake him for his plaque.”

somewhere between his third and twelfth pun, you stopped noticing how unfamiliar the apartment smelled or how quiet the building had become after sunset. it was just his voice in your ear, warm and ridiculous, reminding you who you were when everything else felt too big, too expensive, too not-you.

he kept talking even after you stopped answering, just in case you were pretending to sleep but still needed to hear him. he told you a story about the time he got kicked out of a supermarket for trying to haggle over cabbages, then promised to teach you how to cook galbijjim in an electric pressure cooker “once you stop being a fancy city girl.”

he called you that — fancy city girl — like it was both an insult and a title you’d earned.

and eventually, in that bathroom that smelled like foreign air freshener and existential dread, you fell asleep to the sound of his voice calling you brave in between bad puns about ghosts with dental insurance.

you hated every second of your sleep that night until you started decorating the next morning. with unpacked bags, you left your clothes in a sad little pile of indecision and focused on the real priority: comfort. not survival comfort — emotional comfort. aesthetic comfort. petty, personal, i-will-make-this-haunted-barbie-dream-my-home kind of comfort.

you didn’t have much, but what you did have mattered. mismatched frames, old polaroids, that ugly rug your dad swore was a “family heirloom” (you were 90% sure it was from a garage sale in 2007), your chipped mug with the cartoon bear that looked perpetually anxious — each item slowly carved a space for you inside all the clean, terrifying luxury.

and then there was the kitchen. the pink-tiled kitchen.

you’d thought it was a visual hallucination at first. a fever dream from sleeping on marble and grief. but no — it was real. baby pink tiles from floor to ceiling, gold handles on every drawer, and a retro mint-green fridge that looked like it belonged in a movie about a rich housewife who poisons her husband with artisanal arsenic.

the oven was smarter than you. the faucet lit up in LED colors when you turned it. there was a built-in coffee machine you accidentally worshipped for three full minutes before realizing it also made espresso martinis.

you’d never had your own kitchen before. not really. in boseong, the stove had to be turned on with a butter knife and a prayer, and your dad’s idea of spice organization was “vaguely the same shelf.”

but here, in this edible-looking kitchen that screamed chaotic heiress with secrets, you felt something shift. you didn’t belong here — not even close — but you could pretend. you could make it yours.

starting with the bear mug. front and center. because if the ghosts were going to haunt you, they were going to have to look at his anxious little face first.

you didn’t know much about your grandmother — except that she hated your dad, apparently tolerated your mom, and once sent you a birthday card with your name spelled wrong and five thousand won tucked inside like a truce. growing up, she was more ghost story than family member. the kind of woman who existed only in bitter phone calls and family reunions no one ever enjoyed.

so the fact that this pink kitchen — this frosted, weaponized femininity — had belonged to her was confusing at best and mildly horrifying at worst. did she choose this aesthetic? were the gold swan-shaped drawer pulls intentional? did she wake up one day and think, “yes, i want my home to look like a macaron opened a credit line”?  and if so — who the hell was han ok-ja, really?

you were still staring at the gold-rimmed stovetop on your second night here, trying to decide if it made you feel rich or nauseous, when you heard it.

voices.

the first sound of life outside your apartment since moving in — and not the unsettling creak of old pipes or elevator music that sounded suspiciously like a dirge. actual human voices.

you froze, mug in hand, heart thudding like you were the one trespassing.

you crept toward the door and peeked through the peephole like a responsible citizen-slash-nosey neighbor. and there they were: two of them.

two men.

not delivery drivers. not maintenance workers. not the faceless ghosts you’d imagined floated through these halls at night. these guys looked like they’d walked off a K-drama set about billionaire assassins. tall, sharply dressed, effortlessly serious. one had that slicked-back hair that screamed “i own three nightclubs and a moral dilemma,” and the other looked like he could command a room without saying a word. they spoke low and fast — something about “containment” and “asking jake later” — before disappearing around the corner like this was all completely normal.

you didn’t breathe until the hallway was empty again. and even then, only because your bear mug was fogging up the peephole.

you didn’t know who they were. hell, you didn’t know anyone here. the one person who’d helped you move in was the doorman with serial killer energy and an unsettlingly strong grip — and even he disappeared the second your last box was through the door, like helping you was part of some cursed blood oath he had to fulfill.

your college classmates weren’t much better. your entire winter prep course so far had consisted of awkward breakout rooms, muted mics, and staring at floating letters in google classroom. no faces. just ominous little circles with initials like “K” and “Y,” as if you were being haunted by the world’s most boring ghost cult.

so yeah. no friends. no neighbors. no idea if anyone in this building was even real. and you were introduced to the concept of “other residents” in the most dramatic way possible — via hallway mafia cosplay and mysterious murmurs about something that definitely did not sound legal.

you did what any mentally stable person would do: took a shower. hot water. calm nerves. fake a sense of control.

four minutes in — conditioner still in your hair, face mid-existential crisis — the doorbell rang.

you stood there frozen, water dripping down your back, just staring at the tiled wall like maybe you’d imagined it. maybe the building was playing tricks. wouldn’t be the weirdest thing.

but it rang again. twice this time. like whoever it was had the audacity to be persistent.

so you grabbed a towel, cursed under your breath, and padded across the marble floor like the world's angriest wet ghost.

and when you opened the door —

sunghoon.

you didn’t know his name at the time. you only knew he looked like someone who didn’t need names. the kind of face that belonged on perfume billboards and moody vampire dramas. sharp jaw, colder eyes, all cheekbones and contempt. holding your mail like it had personally offended him.

“your delivery,” he’d said.

two words. no emotion. no explanation. just a stack of envelopes addressed to han ok-ja and a stare that nearly short-circuited your brain.

you stammered. tried to say thank you. dropped your conditioner on the floor like a dramatic prop.

he didn’t flinch. didn’t blink. just placed the mail in your hands and turned around, disappearing down the hallway like a final boss retreating after a tutorial level.

you shut the door and immediately collapsed against it, half-naked, half-mortified, fully confused.

you told yourself it was just a fluke encounter. he probably didn’t even live on your floor. maybe he was visiting. maybe you hallucinated the whole thing and the envelopes were cursed.

but then you started hearing more voices in the next day. always calm, always composed — unnervingly so, like they were narrating a documentary or conducting a negotiation instead of, you know, talking like regular people. they were different voices, too. distinct. male. low. not loud enough to catch the words, just the rhythm. steady. practiced. like they knew someone might be listening.

they came from the only other apartment on your floor — the one directly across from yours, the only other unit tucked into this absurdly private corridor. at first, you thought it was just the acoustics messing with you, echoing from the floors above or below. but no. the timing was too perfect. the pauses too measured.

so you pieced it together: those voices, the ones that made your skin prickle and your heartbeat speed up for no logical reason, belonged to your neighbors.

whoever they were. whoever he was.

so, naturally, you started stalking him.

you called it “gathering intel,” but really it was just you loitering in the hallway and pretending to take out the trash three times a day. you even got fake-lost once, wandering to the rooftop and pretending to marvel at the view — only to find him elbow-deep in a planter box in the greenhouse.

you tried to play it cool. like you just happened to stumble upon this botanical mysteryland by accident. he didn’t buy it. you knew because he didn’t say a word. just looked at you, one eyebrow raised, dirt on his hands, like really?

and yes, really — you made yourself a fool. not even the endearing kind. the talks-to-flowers-to-fill-the-silence-while-your-hot-neighbor-ignores-you kind.

you replayed every second of that encounter at least seventy-two times on your walk back to the apartment.

you, standing like a lost sims character in his private garden. 

you, talking about hydrangeas like they personally offended you. 

you, saying “are you deaf?” to a man who could probably hear a moth sneeze through a concrete wall.

he’d told you his name. sunghoon. 

no last name. no polite small talk. just sunghoon — like it should’ve been obvious, like he assumed his name carried weight in ways you were too human to understand. and maybe it did. maybe that was why it stuck with you so easily.

after that, you told yourself you’d avoid him. let the awkwardness fade, let time cover the whole thing in dust like everything else in this building.

but curiosity’s a bitch.

and so were you, apparently, because you started noticing things.

all the other residents vanished during the day — ghost cars coming and going at strange hours, silent hallways, apartments that never flickered with light. seonghyeon was supposed to be the pinnacle of luxury, and yet sometimes it felt like a very expensive haunted house. a place for the rich and restless to disappear.

but his apartment — the penthouse — that one was never truly still.

the door was always closed, always locked, always giving you shall not pass energy. but something about it pulsed with life.

sometimes, if you stood still in the stairwell long enough (not that you did that on purpose), you could hear it — laughter. deep voices. music, faint and classical one day, low and thumping the next. the clink of glass against glass. sometimes even footsteps pacing, like someone arguing with the walls.

and they weren’t ghost sounds. they weren’t echoes. they were unmistakably human.

which confused the hell out of you.

sunghoon didn’t seem like the hosting type. he didn’t seem like the talking type, honestly. and yet… those voices.

you tried to rationalize it. maybe he had roommates. maybe he had a large, weirdly formal family. maybe he was running a strangely attractive cult and no one had noticed because they were all too hot to question anything.

you figured those two men from your second day here — the ones who looked like they belonged in a noir film or an underworld fashion spread — lived there too. the timing made too much sense. the way they moved, too — like the building was theirs.

and that made everything worse.

because, really — why were hot men living together in a penthouse?

not just hot. alarmingly hot. HD-ready, slow-motion-walk-through-the-smoke hot.

either they were in a boyband you’d never heard of, or something weird was going on. and the more you thought about it, the less it felt like a fantasy and the more it felt like the start of an expensive psychological thriller.

you’d moved here thinking the biggest threat was going to be loneliness. 

now you weren’t so sure.

between the mysterious roommates, the suspiciously symmetrical garden, and the fact that your neighbor might be the living embodiment of a victorian fever dream — things had shifted. subtly. quietly. but still.

which brings you to the present.

two weeks in. january air pressing sharp against your windows. your heating system suspiciously temperamental. your prep course schedule eating your sanity one unread syllabus at a time.

it was friday — the day after the greenhouse incident. or, as you now lovingly referred to it in your mind: the day you decided to mortify yourself in front of a hot cryptid.

you were doing your absolute best to pretend like it never happened. which was hard, considering the mental reruns your brain insisted on playing every time you so much as walked past a plant.

also, the silence. the kind of silence that felt too big, even for a place this large.

you missed your dad.

you missed the way he knocked on your door every morning even when you weren’t home. you missed how the house always smelled like burnt rice or old coffee.

here, everything smelled like luxury cleaning products and echoes.

you still didn’t know how to use the guest room bathtub.

you still hadn’t figured out which switch turned on the weird chandelier in the hallway.

you were still trying to remember what it felt like to not be new all the time.

which meant: staying indoors, drinking your weight in instant coffee, and trying to finish your college assignment like a normal, functioning member of society.

outside, seoul was a frozen postcard — january at its peak, all gray skies and the kind of wind that made your building moan like it was haunted (which, honestly, wasn’t out of the question). inside, you were wrapped in a giant hoodie, sitting cross-legged on your overpriced sofa, staring at a half-finished document titled “attachment styles and their long-term impact on adult relationships.”

it was due in four days. you’d written seven words. two of them were your name.

“jesus,” you muttered, dragging a hand down your face as your laptop fan whined like it too wanted to give up.

your textbook lay open beside you, unread. you kept glancing at the clock, at your phone, at the kitchen — literally anywhere that wasn’t your word doc.

you’d already cleaned the counters. twice. rearranged the spice rack. googled “can someone have both avoidant and anxious attachment or am i just doomed.”

now you were debating whether “take a nap” qualified as productive.

and yet, no matter how hard you tried to focus, your brain kept looping back to one very specific visual: sunghoon. crouched in the dirt. sleeves rolled. that voice. those hands.

you groaned, flopping backwards like gravity owed you a favor.

this was a nightmare. or a romcom. except instead of falling in love you were just… spiraling. academically. emotionally. thermally, because your heater was already acting up again.

it was the end of your second week in seoul.

your father had called that morning, asking how you were adapting to the city’s temperature.

you hadn’t had the heart to say that you missed his jokes the most, that you felt embarrassingly late starting a winter prep course at twenty-three, and that you hadn’t made a single friend over winter break because you were too busy staying inside.

not studying. not exploring. just… existing.

you told him everything was fine. you laughed at his dumb pun about kimchi being your emotional support food. you pretended the loneliness didn’t cling to you like an oversized coat you couldn’t quite shake off.

you were about to post a photo of your aggressively pink mug sitting next to your aggressively pink kettle when the doorbell rang.

you paused.

not because doorbells were inherently threatening — but because in seonghyeon jaega, they kind of were. no one visited. not without warning. not without coded texts or concierge calls. your mail came through a steel chute. your food deliveries were dropped two floors down. you didn’t even think your bell worked.

so when it rang — sharp and alive — you froze mid-caption, thumb hovering over the word “aesthetic.”

you stood, barefoot and confused, tiptoeing toward the door like a raccoon at risk. peeked through the peephole. blinked.

hoodie. messy hair. that grin.

niki.

leaning against your doorframe like this was a tuesday rerun in a life he was half-bored of. black sweatshirt slouched at the collar, sleeves pushed up like he’d been working on something — or pretending to. his hair was slightly damp. maybe from rain. maybe from chaos. you wouldn’t put it past him to casually rinse his face and show up with a weather update like he controlled the forecast.

“hey,” he said, voice low, almost sheepish. “sorry for the drop-in. weird question—do you have a printer?”

you blinked. “a what?”

“a printer.” he gestured vaguely toward your apartment like this was a very normal thing to ask. “ours died. jake forgot to refill the toner and now it sounds like it’s dying. i have to print something for heeseung before he comes home and murders me with passive aggression.”

he smiled like this was cute. like you were both in on some inside joke. you weren’t.

“you don’t have a backup?”

“we have centuries of accumulated wisdom,” he said, solemn, “and apparently none of it includes printer maintenance.”

you raised an eyebrow. leaned a little against the doorframe.

niki didn’t falter. just tilted his head slightly. “look, if you say no, i’ll totally respect that and probably cry myself to sleep. but if you say yes, i’ll owe you a lifelong debt. possibly cookies. maybe foot massages. depends on the mood.”

you were already tired. the heater in your bedroom still made weird clicking sounds. your period was trying to kill you. and now your possibly-weird, definitely-too-handsome neighbor was flirting his way into your apartment with printer lies.

you should’ve said no.

you didn’t.

“i swear to god,” you muttered, stepping aside.

niki grinned like he’d just won the lottery. “this is why i like you.”

“you don’t even know me.”

“sure i do,” he said, walking in like he’d been invited. “banana bread last week? tragic gym attempt? neon pink slippers with sad cat faces? i know your whole arc.”

“oh my god.”

“you’re adorable. and weird. but mostly adorable.”

you nearly threw your mug at him. instead, you pointed to the corner of the room, where your sad little printer sat beside a stack of tangled cords and empty ramen cups.

“be my guest. if it explodes, i’m blaming you.”

“i accept all legal responsibility,” he said solemnly, already crouching like he’d lived here for months. “also. you owe me. i fixed your heater.”

“you unplugged it and plugged it back in.”

“and it worked.”

you opened your mouth. closed it again.

because he was right.

and maybe — just maybe — he wasn’t the worst neighbor you’d ever had.

somehow, niki was the only neighbor who actually talked to you. he sometimes sounded oddly flirty, in that way that made you question if he was joking or just naturally like that, but still — he was the only constant you’d had all week.

like that first night in the elevator.

you’d gone out to take the trash in your sad-girl uniform (read: mismatched socks, your dad’s hoodie, and the kind of messy bun that was less “carefree” and more “actively falling apart”).

the elevator doors opened and there he was. leaning against the mirrored wall like the ride was a runway.

he looked at you, at your tragic ensemble, and without missing a beat said, “rough night or bold fashion statement?”

you almost dropped the trash bag.

then there was the gym.

which, in your defense, you thought would be empty at noon on a tuesday.

you walked in ready to attempt some kind of fake cardio — only to find niki mid-rep, shirtless, earbuds in, glistening with the kind of sweat that looked like it came with a lighting crew.

you stood frozen like you'd just walked in on a pagan ritual.

he noticed you instantly — of course he did — and pulled out one earbud with a grin.

“didn’t take you for a gym rat,” he said, not even out of breath. “what’s your workout plan? anxiety and instant noodles?”

you left seven minutes later, sweating from embarrassment.

another time, you tried to sneak out for a night walk — hoodie on, playlist blasting, full stealth mode — only for the lobby door to swing open and reveal niki… balancing a tray of banana milk, three convenience store bento boxes, and what appeared to be a single lemon.

he blinked at you.

you blinked back.

“don’t judge me,” he said, as if you were the one caught mid-snack run with a lemon like it owed him money.

you weren’t sure if he was teasing you or had the personality of a teen movie star.

but either way, he was a puzzle you couldn’t quite solve — half charming, half cryptic, entirely unpredictable.

and now he was standing at your door, asking for a printer, like that made perfect sense.

niki’s company wasn’t uninvited, just oddly strategic sometimes, like he’s been waiting for tou to open your apartment door for him to leave his. 

not that you two were friends, exactly. but he made you feel comfortable — or at the very least, not like you were one bad decision away from becoming a true crime podcast episode. he seemed decent. normal-ish. like someone who held doors open and actually texted back.

so maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to give him a chance. you guys already had a decent amount of stupid hangouts. maybe he could be your friend in this giant, freezing city. maybe you wouldn’t have to do this whole alone-in-seoul thing completely alone.

“so,” you said, arms crossed as you leaned against the kitchen counter. “what are you printing that’s so life or death?”

niki didn’t even glance up. just crouched in front of your printer like it was an ancient artifact and he was the chosen one. “building schematics.”

“schematics,” you repeated slowly, squinting like that would help. “for, like… a building?”

“yeah. stuff heeseung asked for.”

you blinked. tilted your head slightly. “okay, wait. which one is heeseung again?”

niki’s head snapped toward you so fast it was almost dramatic. “wow. wow.” he looked personally offended, like you’d insulted the honor of his bloodline. “you’ve lived here for two weeks and you still don’t know our names?”

you shrugged one shoulder. your socked foot nudged the cabinet behind you. “should i?”

he leaned back on his heels, hand over his heart like he’d been struck by lightning. “unbelievable. and here i thought we had something special.”

you rolled your eyes, but your mouth twitched. “you literally showed up at my door because your printer broke.”

“and you let me in,” he countered, pointing a finger at you like that settled the case. “which means something.”

“uh-huh.”

niki turned back to the printer, humming as he clicked through the settings. too casual. too smooth. like this was his third printer mission of the week and your apartment was just part of the route. “anyway. heeseung. red hair, tall, stares like he’s reading your thoughts. very expensive skincare routine. kind of terrifying if you don’t know he listens to city pop while painting model trains.”

you blinked again. processed. “he dyed his hair red?”

“see?” niki shot you a scandalized look. “this is how i know you only remember my name. scandalous.”

you opened your mouth to argue. closed it again. because… fair. kind of. he wasn’t wrong, exactly. your brain had definitely slotted everyone else under vague descriptors like “hot one,” “scary one,” and “probably legally dead but still pays rent.”

niki, unfortunately, was “the one who made you laugh when you were trying not to.”

“it’s okay,” he said, grinning wider now. “i get it. i’m memorable.”

“you sound like we’re actually friends,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes. “which we’re not, by the way. i barely know you. and i barely see your friends — they’re like never here. or they vanish when i’m around. which makes you suspicious, you know that? because the only one i always see is you.”

niki didn’t flinch. didn’t even pretend to be offended. just kept fiddling with the printer tray like you hadn’t just accused him of being a walking cult recruiter.

“of course i’m the only one you see,” he said easily. “i’m the most charming. obviously.”

you opened your mouth — probably to insult him, definitely to point out he was insufferable — but before you could fire back, the printer let out a high-pitched whirr and came to life.

niki looked way too pleased, like he’d personally reanimated a corpse. “and voilà,” he announced proudly, as the first page slid out. “proof that i am both useful and handsome.”

you stared. “wow. incredible. now take your stuff and go.”

but of course he didn’t.

niki — who apparently had zero sense of personal space or social cues — didn’t grab his papers and bolt. instead, he wandered away from the printer like a man surveying a summer home, casually inspecting your space like it was a showroom.

you didn’t stop him.

you told yourself it was because you were too tired. but maybe, just maybe, you didn’t hate the company.

your arms uncrossed as he ambled toward your couch, his hoodie sleeves bunching near the elbows, hands still holding that fake-offended air like it was part of his wardrobe. you leaned a little harder into the counter, feeling the cool granite bite into your hip, grounding yourself.

this was not how you planned to spend your evening. you had ramen in the microwave. a half-finished essay waiting on your laptop. an outfit that could only be described as “please don’t perceive me.”

but here he was.

niki.

too much charm. too much hair. too many secrets you weren’t sure you wanted answers to.

and for some reason, he felt... safe.

chaotic, yes. deeply questionable. likely to ruin your sleep schedule.

but safe.

you sighed. he grinned.

this, apparently, was your night now.

“nice place,” he said, eyes scanning your living room like a bored art critic. he wandered toward the corner where your only plant sat — half-wilted, probably dying, but still somehow upright. he crouched beside it, poked a finger at the soil, and raised an eyebrow.

“what’s this one’s name? depression?”

you didn’t even look up from your cup of tea. “that’s literally a peace lily.”

he tilted his head, deadpan. “ironic.”

before you could respond, he flopped onto your couch like it owed him money. limbs everywhere. hoodie pulled up to his wrists. sneakers still on. your throw blanket bunched under his thigh like an afterthought.

“is this real leather or vegan sadness?” he asked, patting the cushion beneath him.

“niki—”

“oh,” he perked up, already reaching. “are these cookies?”

you lunged forward from the kitchen. “those are mine! you can’t just— you’re not even invited!”

“i was invited by the owner,” he said smoothly, already chewing, crumbs on his hoodie. “and also, by the universal law of ‘i fixed your heater.’”

you stared at him in disbelief. “that is not— that’s not how anything works!”

he made himself even more comfortable — which, given the way he stretched out across your furniture like a cat in a sunbeam, should’ve been physically impossible. one arm thrown over the back of the couch. the other still clutching the cookie like it was a trophy.

“this is nice,” he said, entirely too relaxed. “i feel very welcomed.”

you folded your arms. stared. sighed. “you’re a menace.”

he glanced at you, eyes glinting. “a charming one.”

“i should start charging rent.”

niki grinned like you’d just paid him a compliment. “sure. just add it to the list of things you pretend you don’t want from me.”

your brain stalled for half a second.

then you grabbed the nearest throw pillow and hurled it at his face.

he caught it midair — barely — then smirked. leaned forward like the entire apartment was his stage. “just doing my neighborly due diligence.”

you made a show of rolling your eyes, but your cheeks felt warm. it wasn’t fair — he said everything with that same tone. playful. borderline cocky. but never cruel.

“do you talk like this with all the other residents?” you asked, mostly to keep him from reading too much into the way your voice dipped a little softer.

“only the pretty ones who lend me banana bread and let me into their apartment without asking questions.”

you blinked. stood very still.

he didn’t flinch.

you opened your mouth. closed it again. reached for your tea like it could help.

“you’re lucky my pepper spray’s buried in my tote bag,” you muttered.

“you’re lucky i’m charming enough to take that risk.”

you shook your head, fighting a smile that was halfway there already.

a few more pages printed in the background. niki didn’t seem to notice — or maybe he did, and just didn’t care. the air between you softened slightly. not tense. not flirty, exactly. but... familiar.

like maybe this wasn’t the first time he’d ended up on a stranger’s couch.

and maybe you didn’t mind as much as you should.

“met any of the other neighbors yet?” he asked, casually sprawled across your very recently cleaned sofa like it was his birthright. shoes still on. hoodie riding up slightly at the waist. 

you sighed. apparently, this was your night now — your other cute neighbor (not the one you kind of maybe occasionally imagined kissing in a greenhouse, but still cute in that devil-may-care way) had decided to turn your living room into his own private lounge.

you dropped into the only other chair — the one beside the shelf where a TV should’ve been, if you could afford anything other than groceries and tuition. ramen was your closest friend these days. the only reason you hadn’t withered away was sheer spite.

you glanced at niki, who looked deeply unbothered by your existential student crisis, and answered, “not unless you count the old woman on the third floor who yells at the mailman in jeolla dialect. i think she has a shrine to her cat in the stairwell.”

he laughed, warm and easy. “ah, mrs. cho. the patron saint of passive aggression.”

you grinned despite yourself. “and then there’s the guy with the black porsche. not korean. definitely not even asian. i swear to god i’ve seen him in a movie before.”

niki lifted a brow. “short? built like a villain? always wears sunglasses indoors?”

“yes!”

“that’s theo.”

you blinked. “you know him?”

“he owes me two shirts and a very expensive wine opener,” niki said, as if that explained everything.

you stared at him. “so you hang out with western celebrities but still have to print schematics on your neighbor’s barely-functioning printer?”

he gave a long-suffering sigh. “i’m humble like that.”

you gave him a skeptical look. “right. and what’s the deal, then? why is this building full of ghosts and runway models? from what my grandmother told me, i thought this was going to be filled with retired professors and rich ajummas named eun-sook with bichons in pearls.”

niki’s grin widened — that foxlike, too-sharp one that always made you feel like he was six steps ahead in a conversation you didn’t know you were having.

“maybe you’re just circulating in different areas,” he said breezily. “you haven’t met mr. park yet. lives on the tenth floor. made his fortune directing very adult films in the seventies. talks to his plants. wears velvet robes. honestly? king behavior.”

you blinked. “…he’s real?”

“realer than my GPA,” niki said solemnly.

you stared at him. “what are you, then? the building’s unofficial tour guide?”

“resident heartthrob,” he replied without hesitation. “printer technician. heater fixer. emotional support neighbor.”

you narrowed your eyes. “you’re impossible to age. your face screams ‘freshman orientation,’ but you talk like someone who’s been divorced twice and got revenge both times.”

niki leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand. “i’m twenty-two.”

the way he said it — soft, unbothered, with the slightest glint of mischief — made your brain short-circuit. it was too clean. too polished. like he’d practiced it.

you stared a second too long. “…sure you are.”

he raised an eyebrow. “what, you don’t believe me?”

“i believe someone is twenty-two,” you muttered. “i’m just not convinced it’s you.”

he laughed. easy. like it didn’t matter either way.

you, on the other hand, were very aware that you’d been running on caffeine, anxiety, and precisely one cookie all day. your stomach made a small, pitiful noise — like it was mourning your last real meal.

niki’s print job was finally done. but instead of collecting his papers and leaving like a normal person, he floated back to the couch like he lived here. he flopped down again, one leg tucked under the other, as if this was his regular friday night routine — lounging in your furniture while you silently debated crying over your student loans.

“do your roommates also pretend to live here,” you asked, “or is that just your thing?”

niki hummed lazily, shifting again as the cushions dipped beneath his weight. “depends. jungwon’s usually busy running the world, sunoo only leaves for beauty products, jay’s emotionally allergic to sunlight, and heeseung…” a pause. “well, heeseung’s redecorating his room again. new hair, new furniture. guy’s going through his third identity arc this year.”

you blinked. twice. “he really dyed it red?”

“like full villain arc. he stood in front of the mirror for two hours yesterday practicing his ‘you dare betray me’ face.”

you laughed — surprised by the sound of it, warm and real in your own apartment, like it had been waiting in your chest for a week and finally broke free.

“i should’ve picked him to develop a weird crush on.”

the silence that followed wasn’t loud, but it hit like a dropped pin in an empty room. niki looked at you. really looked. a slow turn of the head. a raised brow. a grin, wide and merciless.

you realized, too late.

your heart dropped with the weight of your own stupidity.

did you just… admit that? out loud?

a crush.

on his roommate.

his roommate, who you’d spoken to exactly once. who had not smiled at you. who looked like he’d been sculpted by victorian grief and dressed by vogue. his roommate who — unfortunately — probably heard everything you’d just said. through niki. or the walls. or sheer karmic spite.

your blood turned to static.

and niki, of course, said nothing for a second. he just smiled like the universe had finally handed him the plot twist he’d been waiting for.

“you are very unique, you know that, right?” he said at last — and for once, his voice didn’t carry a joke. not fully. it was soft. curious. and it made your skin heat in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

you tried to recover. you really did. you raised your eyebrow like you weren’t seconds away from combusting. “so you were the girl sunghoon-hyung was muttering about all morning. i thought i was going crazy.”

pause.

what?

you blinked. again.

“what?”

niki just stared back at you, like you’d missed something obvious. like he hadn’t just set your brain on fire.

“sunghoon,” he repeated. “pale skin, cute moles, nice fashion sense. he was relentless this morning. a lot, actually. and he doesn’t do that. ever. not unless something’s bothering him.”

your mouth opened. then closed. your heart had gone rogue — hammering now, like it couldn’t decide if it was excited or preparing for a cardiac arrest.

“and you… came here to print. not to spy. right?”

niki gave you a look so flat, so unimpressed, that it was almost comforting. “i came here to confirm a theory,” he said, waving one of the printed pages like it was proof. “the printing was just an excuse. i don’t actually care about heeseung’s floor plans. the guy’s redecorating again — it’s like watching a pinterest board have a breakdown.”

you stared at him like he’d grown another head. “so you think… sunghoon’s spiraling? and you came here to see if i was the reason?”

he tilted his head. thoughtful. “he didn’t go out with the rest of us today. jay’s out. jungwon too. even jake finally left the building. which means whatever got him all twisted up happened here.”

you tried to process. tried to piece together the chain of cause and effect that somehow led to you being the root of sunghoon’s existential turmoil. it didn’t track. it didn’t make sense.

“so i asked myself: what changed yesterday?” niki went on, pacing now, gesturing around your apartment like this was a true crime scene. “and then i remembered our neighbor. who decided to play dumb in his private greenhouse.”

you groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “i didn’t decide anything. i got lost.”

niki arched an eyebrow, eyes gleaming. “sure.”

“i thought he was going to throw a rake at me.”

“nope. just internalized it and started spiraling like a man in a period drama.” he leaned in then, elbows on knees, expression alight with amusement. “which, honestly, is kind of flattering. he usually skips the spiraling and goes straight to brooding.”

you dropped your head into your hands, completely mortified. “i’m going to die. i’m going to be haunted by this for the rest of my life. tell no one.”

“too late,” he said. “i’m emotionally invested now. this is my entertainment.”

you groaned again, hands still pressed over your face. “and—how do you even know? don’t tell me he’s the type to talk shit about women around his guy friends. please.”

niki scoffed. “sunghoon-hyung? no. he doesn’t talk bad about women. he doesn’t talk about women. or people. or, like, at all most days. that’s why when he started pacing the kitchen and cleaning the already cleaned counter like he was trying to hex himself, i paid attention.”

you peeked through your fingers. he looked serious. calm. like he was just stating facts.

“it wasn’t mean,” he added, voice quieter now. “just... restless. confused. like you short-circuited something in him and he couldn’t figure out why.”

your head thunked back against the chair. “so i’m haunting him.”

“you’re interesting,” he corrected.

you sat up, arms crossed. “okay. fine. i admit it. he got my attention on the first day. but i didn’t know anything about him, so i went up there to check. just... to see.”

niki’s grin returned. smug. knowing. “and?”

“and i made a fool out of myself,” you muttered. “i insulted his hydrangeas. i accused him of spray-painting flowers. i basically loitered in his personal sanctuary like some floral cryptid. it was a disaster.”

“a disaster he’s still thinking about, apparently.”

you stared at him. “get out of my apartment.”

“rude. but fair.”

you waved your hand like a white flag. “he’s probably trying to figure out how to get me evicted. he looked very not thrilled to see someone new, now that i think about it.”

niki just raised his brows.

“actually,” you added, like your mouth had given up on logic, “he’s so fine it’s probably safer for me to just move back to boseong. honestly. for my health. for public safety. i might actually die if i see him again.”

niki blinked. once. then: “you’re unwell.”

“you started it.”

“and i regret nothing,” he said, beaming. “please spiral more. i’ll bring popcorn next time.”

you groaned into the chair arm. “the guy i found cute is exposing my terrible flirting techniques with his roommates.”

niki casually flipped one of the printer pages. “nah. sunghoon-hyung would probably just water your ghost like a houseplant.”

no words. no strength.

“okay, maybe i am crazy,” you mumbled. “i’m having a mental crisis over a neighbor i barely know and who doesn’t even know my name.”

niki looked at you. calm again. “oh, he does. i told him.”

you stopped breathing. “you what?”

he shrugged, gathering the last of the printed pages. “you were spiraling. he was spiraling. i connected the dots. you’re welcome.”

“you’re insane.”

“you say that like it’s news.”

and then, just when you thought he might actually leave, he turned at the door.

“don’t overthink it too hard,” he said. “it’s not like you’re the only human who’s ever made him spiral.”

your stomach dropped. “wait — the only what?”

he paused.

smiled.

too slow.

“neighbor,” he said, deadpan. “human neighbor. obviously.”

and then he was gone.

the apartment door clicked shut behind him.

you just stood there, staring. trying to decide whether this was real or some elaborate fever dream induced by printer ink fumes and too many empty carb meals.

and maybe that was what made you do it.

maybe that’s why, ten minutes later, you were zipping up your coat. lacing your sneakers. moving on autopilot. maybe that’s why your hand hovered near the elevator button, breath caught somewhere behind your teeth.

because something wasn’t right. and hadn’t been for a while. and maybe, just maybe, you were finally ready to find out what.

you pressed the button.

the elevator doors opened.

you stepped inside, heart in your throat, mind buzzing with too many thoughts and not enough certainty.

you were going back.

to the greenhouse.

to the one place in this strange building that made even less sense than the boy with the smirk and the printer.

and maybe, somehow, that was the whole point.

——

you didn’t really have a plan. just your coat half-zipped, your phone shoved into your pocket, and a fuzzy memory of the stairwell leading to the rooftop.

by the time you reached the greenhouse, the wind had started howling louder, curling around the marble like it had claws. the door creaked as you pushed it open, hesitant — not quite sure what you were hoping to find. not even sure you wanted to be seen.

but no one was there. not yet.

instead, there was… stillness. eerie, clean stillness. the kind that didn’t feel empty, just waiting.

the lights were dimmed to that soft, golden low — like the whole place was stuck between late evening and a dream. the air was warmer here than in the rest of the building, humid and filled with the scent of damp earth, jasmine, and something vaguely sweet you couldn’t place. like something had just bloomed, or was about to.

you stepped forward carefully, eyes flicking from one corner to another. there were plants you couldn’t name — some domestic, some probably illegal, some tall enough to have a personality. there were shelves of tools that looked antique, a misting system that hissed like a sleeping cat every few minutes, and in the far back — the camellias.

you didn’t know much about flowers, but those had been the ones the cute neighbor was tending the last time you embarrassed yourself in here. they looked too perfect to be real now. which somehow only made you more nervous.

you walked slowly, brushing your fingers over a leaf here, a petal there. something about the place made your heartbeat slow down — not relax, but drag, like time was thicker here.

you reached the camellias. stared at them. quiet. then:

“if you start talking, i swear to god i’ll scream.”

no response. which was good. you weren’t ready for enchanted flora just yet.

you leaned against the nearest wooden post and let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

“i’m not crazy,” you told the flowers. “i mean, maybe a little. but he’s just a guy. a really… visually jarring guy. with plants. and beautiful hands. and maybe cult energy. but still. a guy.”

actually, now that you thought about it, your father would be losing it if he saw you right now — probably wheezing from laughter, maybe texting you articles about urban hallucinations, and definitely threatening to drag you back to boseong before you joined a handsome, plant-worshipping cult.

you never been in love before, hell, you only felt attraction through tv shows and social media platforms. boseong didn’t have actual boys your age to fantasize about. so you felt stupid for being so new to all this experience. hell, you only found him hot, it’s not like you have already fell for him.

or so that was what you were willing to admit right now.

and of course — because your life was a joke — that was exactly when the door creaked open behind you.

you turned. slowly.

sunghoon stood in the entrance, hoodie pulled over his head, face unreadable under the warm light.

he was dressed so casually compared to the last time you saw him — exactly here, probably twenty-four hours ago to the minute — when he looked like he’d stepped out of a noir film in that trench coat that probably cost more than your tuition and shoes you were too scared to breathe near.

now it was just a hoodie. black, like niki’s. sleeves pushed to the forearms. sneakers.

he looked… human. more human than yesterday.

still, hot as fuck.

but you controlled your thoughts. barely.

“sorry that i’m trespassing again,” was your first move — because, naturally, you led with self-incrimination.

great. amazing. full confession. this man was definitely going to start locking the place now. maybe even file a restraining order.

honestly, you wouldn’t blame him.

he didn’t answer right away. you could feel his gaze, though — heavy, unreadable, like he was trying to decide if you were a threat or just stupid.

your embarrassment arrived a second too late. you turned your back to him, pretending you weren’t mortified and that the night view just happened to be that interesting.

and to be fair, it kind of was. this part of the greenhouse stretched farther than you realized — glass walls curved outward, revealing the full sprawl of the city below. lights blinked like dying stars. rooftops dusted with frost. your own reflection faint in the glass, barely outlined by the soft yellow glow inside.

you exhaled.

“i hadn’t seen this part yesterday,” you said quietly to no one exactly. “was too busy making a fool of myself in the front.”

you didn’t turn around. just kept your eyes on the skyline. “it’s pretty,” you added. “i mean—i guess you know that. you live here. obviously.”

you heard movement behind you. quiet steps on stone. then his voice — calm, low.

“most people don’t notice this part. too bright during the day.”

you blinked. “well. i only trespass at night, apparently.”

there was a pause. not awkward — just… full.

“you can keep coming here, if you like,” he said finally, gaze fixed on the orchid. “it’s nice during winter.”

you blinked. “is this special treatment because i became friends with one of your roommates?”

he glanced at you. “are you talking about riki?”

“riki? i swear it was niki.”

he laughed. and you absolutely weren’t prepared.

it wasn’t loud — just a quiet, breathy sound, like something slipped out before he could stop it — but it lit across his face in this rare, startling way. his lips parted slightly. you caught the sharp glint of his canines.

and for one irrational second, you felt your blood run cold.

those were long ass canines, my lord.

“yes, niki,” he said, finally looking away. “he goes by that too, apparently. he’s… troublesome. don’t fall for his traps.”

you smiled before you could help it. “thanks for the concern, but i think it’s too late. he literally invaded my apartment earlier today.”

sunghoon raised a brow. 

“printer emergency,” you added, like that somehow justified it.

his mouth twitched. “sounds like him.”

you nodded, trying not to feel weirdly proud that this sunghoon guy didn’t seem annoyed. that he was still standing there. that he hadn’t told you to leave.

did niki say anything to him? god, if he did…

until then, sunghoon had kept a good distance between you both — a few careful feet, a plant or two, like the space between you was intentional. personal. you let it slide, thinking maybe he still thought you were unstable. (which, fair.)

still, you figured you shouldn’t push your luck. shouldn’t linger long enough to ruin the first actually peaceful moment you’d shared with him.

so, with slow steps, you began walking further into the greenhouse, fingers brushing gently over the edge of a planter, letting the silence settle.

the warmth of the space, the smell of wet soil and night-blooming flowers — it all pressed around you like a soft blanket. 

you let yourself breathe.

“do you all live here? for how long?” you couldn’t help but ask, voice low, like the plants might tattle.

sunghoon didn’t answer right away. you glanced back at him — he hadn’t moved from his spot, still half-shadowed by a curtain of ivy, the soft yellow light outlining the curve of his jaw.

“a while,” he said finally. vague. noncommittal. ancient-sounding.

you waited for more. didn’t get it.

“like... years?”

he tilted his head. “give or take.”

you squinted. “that’s not an answer.”

“it’s the only one you’re getting.”

you exhaled, half amused, half suspicious. so mysterious. so nonchalant. so suspiciously good at evading direct human timelines.

“you’re worse than niki at evading questions, god. are you all like this?”

sunghoon almost smiled — almost. just a flicker at the corner of his mouth, like he was debating whether you were worth the truth or just another nosy neighbor with too much curiosity and too little survival instinct.

“maybe it’s a roommate requirement,” he said.

you narrowed your eyes. “what, like a quiz? ‘how mysterious are you on a scale from 1 to dramatic rooftop monologue’?”

this time, he actually smiled. just a little. but it was there.

“you’d fail,” he said simply.

you gasped. “rude.”

“you talk too much.”

you grinned. “and you brood too much. balance.”

“actually, you’re the one who should be asking questions,” you shot back, turning to face him fully. “i got here first.”

sunghoon blinked, like he was momentarily stunned by your logic.

“trespassing doesn’t count as arrival,” he said flatly.

“semantics.” you waved a hand. “i was emotionally distressed. that grants me squatters’ rights.”

he let out a quiet breath — not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh.

“you’re unbelievable.”

“and yet, here you are,” you said, gesturing between you. “still talking to me. maybe you’re the crazy one.”

he didn’t deny it. just glanced away, like maybe you were onto something.

“do you always go out with your pink phone case?”

you froze. blinked. stared. how did he—

“wait, you noticed that?”

sunghoon didn’t even blink. “hard to miss.”

your mouth opened, then closed. “it’s for the aesthetics. i like pink.”

he hummed, like he was storing the information away for later. or judging you. or both.

you crossed your arms. “don’t make that face.”

“i didn’t make a face.”

“you did. it was very i-expected-black-but-of-course-it’s-pink.”

he looked at you, gaze steady. “i expected lavender, actually.”

“do i give off lavender vibes?” you asked, genuinely confused.

sunghoon didn’t answer right away — just tilted his head slightly, eyes trailing over you in that unreadable way of his, like he was assessing your soul for color palette accuracy.

“sometimes,” he said. “but mostly… chaotic rose gold.”

you squinted. “that’s not a real vibe.”

“it is now.”

“you just made that up.”

“it’s a pretty color,” sunghoon said.

you blinked at him. “are you calling me pretty?”

“no.”

“that’s rude.”

“you should be at your apartment.”

you narrowed your eyes. “are you saying i’m ugly, then?”

he didn’t flinch. “beauty is about preferences. you can think a flower is pretty, but someone else might think it’s not the best.”

you stared. “are you a walking inspirational monologue coach? is that your side hustle? why are you always showing up late at night like some poetic batman?”

sunghoon looked off toward the glass ceiling like he was considering whether to dignify that with an answer.

“plants prefer quiet,” he said finally. “and so do i.”

you crossed your arms. “you’re so weird.”

and cute, you wanted to add, but decided against giving him that satisfaction. instead, you walked further into the greenhouse, letting the soft hum of warmth and the faint scent of soil wrap around you like a blanket.

you couldn’t believe you were actually talking to the cute neighbor. like really having a conversation, not just a one sided talk. you think you could count this as a good win for today.

the camellias were everywhere — climbing the trellises, tucked into carefully sculpted beds, blooming in quiet defiance of winter. pale pink, deep red, soft ivory. some petals curled like folded silk, others stretched wide like they had something to prove. you could tell someone tended to them with care. the kind of care that didn’t just water plants but listened to them.

tiny ceramic pots lined the shelves, holding herbs you didn’t recognize, some with tags written in what you swore wasn’t korean. there was a cluster of hanging plants near the center — spider plants, trailing vines, a few that looked carnivorous — and nestled between them, a tea set. just… sitting there. like someone had once hosted a garden party and forgot to clean up.

you weren’t sure how long you wandered, fingertips grazing leaves and petals, occasionally pausing to mutter something dumb like you guys get more affection than i do. it felt sacred in a way. not holy, but intentional. lived-in. like it had memories.

eventually, you saw him again.

sunghoon.

he was standing by the far end of the greenhouse now — in the same spot you had been earlier, overlooking the city through the large arched window. the skyline shimmered under the frostbitten night, a painting of silver and cold light. he was still. too still. hands in the pockets of his black hoodie, shoulders drawn back, head tilted just slightly, as if listening to something only he could hear.

you didn’t think. just moved. quietly, carefully, like your slippers might betray you.

he didn’t turn. he didn’t seem to notice you at all — until you got too close.

you were maybe two steps behind him when it happened.

his body stiffened. violently.

his shoulders tensed first, like he’d been punched in the spine, then his head turned just enough for you to see it: the way his eyes had gone wide, pupils blown open like ink on paper.

then the wince.

his nose twitched, and in the span of a single breath, he stumbled back.

three steps. four. too fast. like he’d touched fire.

his face wasn’t angry. it wasn’t surprised, either. it was… pained.

like something disgusted him. or worse — tempted him.

you stood frozen between the camellias and the windows, confused and small.

he was staring at you like you were the ghost.

you stepped back too, instinctively — as if your retreat might undo whatever invisible boundary you’d just crossed.

“are you okay?” you asked, voice soft, the question half-caught in your throat.

sunghoon didn’t answer right away. he was still staring. still breathing like he’d run here instead of just been standing still.

his jaw flexed once, then again. you could see it — the way he was trying to keep his composure, to collect himself into something human, but failing spectacularly.

his tongue darted out to wet his lips, slow, distracted, and for a second you could’ve sworn you saw it — the glint of a canine too long, too sharp.

his eyes, dark and wide, flashed. not red. not exactly. but something burned behind them, low and glowing.

he took another step back.

then another.

“you should go,” he said finally. voice low. hoarse. like the words scraped on the way out.

you blinked. “did i… do something wrong?”

he shut his eyes for a beat too long. shook his head, almost imperceptibly.

“no,” he said, forcing a breath through clenched teeth. “it’s not you.”

and then, quieter — barely audible, like a confession he didn’t mean for you to catch: 

“it’s me.”

you hesitated, your fingers curling slightly at your sides.

“do you want me to call niki? or a medic? are you sure you’re alright?”

his eyes snapped shut again. his voice was rough when it came out — like it hurt.

“please. you can leave already.”

you took a cautious step forward anyway. “should i go find one of your roommates?”

that’s when he flinched — visibly, violently.

“fuck—just stay right there. don’t move.”

it wasn’t anger. it was something else. desperation. restraint.

you froze.

his pupils were blown wide now, his chest rising and falling too fast. his hands trembled where they hung by his sides, like he was holding himself back from something.

“please,” he said again. this time quieter. almost a whisper. almost a plea.

you didn’t say anything. just nodded, slowly, and backed toward the door — one careful step at a time.

and the moment you were out, you heard it.

not footsteps.

not words.

just the slam of a side door somewhere deeper in the greenhouse.

like he needed distance. fast.

like he needed saving from something only he understood.

you didn’t look back.

but you didn’t stop thinking about it, either.

not even once.

author's note: i swear the more vampiric side of this story WILL GET HERE, just wait a bit more. i know this is fast paced, i know this is rushed and chaotic, but bear with my little time to plot everything and proofread it. i hope we see each other in the next chapter. send me a request • my masterpost

[smutmind]

https://www.reddit.com/r/kpopfaceporn/s/Lz2cBZNsrP

The definition of "When it doesn't fit.."

By the way, I love your BBC story... if you don't mind, can I request for Seulgi x BBC in the middle of nowhere... thanks..

When it Doesn't Fit ft. Seulgi

Idol X BBC

The road behind her stretched out like a mistake.

Seulgi sat on the edge of her car’s hood, phone in her lap, eyes scanning a signal bar that never appeared. The sun beat down, hot enough to sting her scalp through her cap. Her tank was soaked at the back. Her thighs stuck to the denim of her shorts.

No signal. No shade. No idea what to do.

She should’ve stayed on the coast. Or at least told someone where she was going. She could already hear her manager’s voice: “Why the hell would you go on a road trip alone?”

Then she heard it—gravel shifting. An engine. A truck.

She stood.

It pulled up slow. Big. Dusty. Black pickup. The driver killed the engine and stepped out.

He was taller than she expected. Broad. Older, maybe mid-thirties. Skin dark and smooth, shirt thin and sleeveless. Hands large and clean.

“Car trouble?” he asked, already glancing toward her hood.

Seulgi swallowed. “Won’t start. Dashboard just died.”

He nodded once. “No signal out here. Closest place’s my garage. Just a mile down.”

“Oh,” she said. “Can I… call a tow?”

“No point,” he said. “I’m the only shop around.”

He moved toward the car. She watched his shoulders flex under the sun.

“You push, I steer?” he asked, already lining up behind the bumper.

Seulgi blinked. “Wait, you’re just—”

But he was already pushing.

They moved slow, her hands on the wheel, heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the heat.

The shop was exactly what she expected—sun-bleached, worn, a single metal bay open like a mouth waiting to swallow her whole.

He parked the car, popped the hood, leaned in.

She watched his back, the long line of it, the way his forearms tensed when he reached in.

He stood again. “Timing belt’s gone. Battery looks tired too.”

She moved closer. “Can you fix it?”

He nodded. “Couple hours.”

She reached for her bag. “Can I Apple Pay?”

“Nope.”

She winced. “Cash only?”

“Yup.”

“I… didn’t bring any. I’m not broke, I just didn’t plan for this.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. Just watched her.

She felt the silence. Heavy. Too heavy.

“I’m Seulgi,” she offered. “From Red Velvet.”

He didn’t blink. “Don’t know what that is.”

“I’m kind of… well-known. In Korea. Globally.”

He looked her over slowly. Not with recognition. With hunger.

“Well-known doesn’t fix cars,” he said.

She laughed once. Nervous.

He stepped closer.

“You’re not getting out of here for a while.”

Her heart jumped. “Are you saying—?”

The shop’s overhead fan clicked as it turned. One blade was bent, making the rhythm stutter—click-click-whir, click-click-whir. Seulgi stood at the counter with her wallet open, bills folded neatly inside.

He waited. Calm. Watching her.

“I really don’t have cash,” she said.

“No signal. No swipe. No transfers,” he replied. “Not out here.”

She looked down. “I didn’t think I’d need it. I planned stops. Hotels. Gas.”

He nodded once. “You didn’t plan to break down.”

Her lips pressed tight. “No.”

The quiet stretched.

“I’m good for it,” she said.

“I believe you.”

“I’m not asking you to fix it for free. Just… maybe later. I’ll send it.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just walked to the other side of the counter, leaned against it, arms crossed.

“You’re stranded.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not walking out. Car’s dead. Heat’s climbing. No signal. No shade.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“You got a few choices, Seulgi. None of them include leaving.”

Her eyes flicked up. “You know my name.”

“You told me.”

She exhaled, flustered. “Right.”

“You’re a long way from stages and cameras,” he said.

She met his gaze. “You really don’t care who I am?”

He shrugged. “I care that you’re sweating. Nervous. And out of ways to buy your freedom.”

Her throat tightened. “You’re saying…”

“I’m saying there’s something else you could offer.”

He didn’t move.

Didn’t touch her.

Didn’t smile.

But the air went heavy, thick like syrup.

Seulgi’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.

“And if I say no?”

He tilted his head. “Then you wait. Out there. Heatstroke. Dust. Dark. I won’t stop you.”

She looked down again. Her hand brushed the edge of the counter. The wallet. The empty signal bar on her phone. Her reflection in the glass—flushed cheeks, collar damp with sweat, lips dry, jaw tight.

“Would you… even enjoy it?” she asked, voice cracking.

He stepped closer. Just one step. Close enough to feel the warmth of him.

“More than you think,” he said.

She didn’t move.

He reached up—slowly—and touched her jaw with two fingers.

She flinched. Then relaxed.

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

“I know.”

He let his thumb drag down, across her throat.

“But I’ll still do it,” she said.

He didn’t ask again.

He just watched her set the wallet down.

Then her bag.

Then step out of her sandals.

“You’re an idol, right?” he said, leaning back on the edge of the cot, his cock resting thick and veined against his thigh. “Then you already know what men want.”

Seulgi stood stiff in the doorway, her hands clenched by her sides. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her heart raced in her chest—not with excitement, but something colder. Something tight and sinking.

She shook her head once. “That’s not who I am.”

He didn’t flinch. “You’re standing here with no cash. No phone. No help. That is who you are right now.”

Her throat moved as she swallowed. “I didn’t sleep my way up. I danced for it. Sang for it. I worked harder than anyone.”

He shrugged. “You think I care?”

Her face flushed—humiliation blooming hot in her chest. “I’m not some groupie who fucks to be remembered.”

“Good,” he said. “Then show me something worth forgetting.”

She took a breath. Shaky. Pulled her tank up over her head and let it drop to the floor. No bra. Her tits bounced free, nipples already tight with shame and cold air.

Her hands reached for her shorts.

She hesitated.

“This doesn’t mean I’m that kind of girl,” she said softly.

“I know exactly what kind of girl you are,” he said. “The kind who knows how to perform.”

She blinked hard. Bit her lip.

Then shoved her shorts down.

No panties.

She stepped out of them, naked now, body trembling.

He didn’t move.

She approached slowly. Dropped to her knees in front of him.

“I’ve never done this,” she said. “Not like this.”

“First Black cock?” he asked, smirking.

She looked down. “Yeah. I… I don’t even know how you’re supposed to fit.”

“Start with your mouth.”

She reached out. Touched him.

Her fingers barely wrapped around the base. He was huge. Thick. Long. Her hand moved gently, unsteady, like she was holding something sacred—or dangerous.

She leaned in and kissed the tip.

Then opened her mouth and tried to take him in.

It was too much. She gagged almost instantly.

She pulled back, gasping. “I’m sorry—I’m trying—am I doing it right?”

He didn’t smile. Didn’t mock.

“Do it again.”

She nodded. Swallowed. Took him back in slowly.

Her jaw ached. Spit dripped down her chin. Her throat fluttered with effort.

He groaned. “You look better on your knees than you ever did on stage.”

She moaned around him, humiliated and wet.

When she pulled off, breathless, her voice cracked. “I didn’t come here to fuck. I came to get help.”

“You got both,” he said, standing.

She froze.

He sat on the cot and nodded. “Come on. Climb on.”

Her legs moved without thinking. She straddled him, shaking, his cock pressed against her soaked slit.

“I don’t know if I can take it,” she whispered. “You’re too big.”

“You’ll stretch.”

She guided him in, slow.

Her mouth dropped open. Her body tensed.

“Oh fuck—fuck—it hurts.”

“You’re halfway.”

She whimpered. “That’s halfway?!”

“Keep going.”

She did.

Tears welled in her eyes. Her pussy burned as she slid down, inch by impossible inch, until he was fully inside.

“I feel like I’m splitting open,” she moaned. “No one’s ever been this deep.”

He grabbed her hips. Started moving her.

She rocked on top of him, tits bouncing, breath ragged.

Her hands gripped his shoulders. “I feel disgusting.”

“You look perfect.”

“I didn’t earn anything this way,” she gasped. “I never had to do this.”

“But now you are.”

She came without meaning to—her body clenching, shivering, mouth open in a wordless cry.

He grunted. Thrust up hard. Filled her with heat.

She collapsed against him, sweaty, broken, full.

He stayed inside her. Cock still thick.

“You’re not who you were when you walked in,” he said.

She didn’t answer.

Just lay there, dripping, empty and wide open.

[munefille]

yandere!eldritch horror moves into the apartment next door and you're not okay with it.

He's an absolutely terrible neighbor. You see people enter his apartment every night, but you never see them leave the morning after. Must be drunk hookups, right? You don't know, and you don't care, but there are weird nightly noises coming from his place, and his face is a strange dark blur that you have trouble picturing, and you swear there's a sour smell wafting out from under his door.

Every time you try to talk to him about keeping it down or getting rid of that God awful stench, you're suddenly afflicted with a piercing headache... ugh, what were you even going to say again? You can't remember, but the way he's looking at you with wide blue... no, brown eyes and a grin stretched sickeningly far makes you think you should leave it.

While you’re busy figuring out how to get him evicted, the abomination dwelling on the other side of your paper thin walls gets the idea that you're trying to ask him out.

You approach him so often, you must like him, right? He's giddy just imagining it. Yeah, you come up to him with a grimace, but then you catch his eye and a forced smile takes its place. You haven't asked him to be yours yet because you're shy (he understands humans so well!).

No worries! He doesn't have an issue initiating. The meat sack he wears may not be the most convincing (he's inexperienced, just recently escaped into human society), but you'll be impressed by his real form for sure. All of the members of his old cult praised him for it, after all.

Many eyes to watch you with. Many limbs to touch you with. Many teeth to devour the flesh of your enemies with. What more could you possibly want?

Back then the cultists were so enamored with the lumbering heap of distorted skin and bone he possessed, feeding his ravenous hunger until he was quelled. He hated what he was to them, hated what they made him into. They search for their missing idol, but he makes sure they never make it back to utter a word of his new identity.

He moved in after leaving the cult that created him, quickly coming up with a flimsy human adjacent shell to not raise suspicion. Having mind altering abilities also comes in handy, too- no one but you seems to pay any mind to his existence in your run down complex.

Now that he has you, nothing will ever drag him back to their clutches. Being treated like an otherworldly god has nothing on the way you make him feel when you ask what the hell is rotting in his apartment ♡

[koyagifs]

𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞

pairing: hongjoong x reader au: 9th member | idol | poly genre: angst with comfort word count: 1.2k synopsis: you didn't mean for it happen, but it did.. warning(s): hospital, description of passing out, bad eating habits.

You were burning up.

So hot that even with the staff frantically fanning you, sweat clung to your skin and the water you chugged did little to cool you down. Hongjoong noticed how winded you were and rushed to your side, quickly pulling out his earpiece.

"Are you okay? Do we need to call a medic?"

You waved him off, taking a deep breath before straightening up. "Just need a minute," you mumbled.

The staff exchanged glances with Hongjoong, concern etched into their expressions. Still, he stayed close, silently offering you your microphone. You took it with a small nod as the two of you followed the others toward the stage.

The roar of the crowd grew louder, fans screaming as Wooyoung, San, and Yeosang lit up the stage with their performance.

Behind you, Mingi and Yunho appeared, concern flashing across their faces the moment they saw how closely Hongjoong was hovering by your side.

"You look... pale? Y/N, are you okay?" Mingi asked, his brows furrowing.

You waved him off, nodding as if that would settle it. "I'm fine," you insisted, though your voice lacked its usual strength.

Hongjoong let out an annoyed huff beside you, clearly not convinced. He was one second away from calling off the rest of the show—there was no way he was letting you push through when you looked like this.

But just as he turned to call out to the director, the crew was already ushering you all toward the stage, headsets crackling with urgency.

“No time—go, go, go!”

You barely had a moment to collect yourself before the stage lights flared to life, blinding and hot, the deafening cheers crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You moved on autopilot, slipping into position as the music kicked in. When your line came, you lifted the mic with trembling fingers, your voice barely catching the beat.

Then your vision blurred.

Your words slurred, the mic slipping slightly from your grasp just before your knees gave out beneath you. A sharp ringing filled your ears, drowning out the roar of the crowd—though you could still feel the shift in energy, the panic breaking through the cheers.

Someone was in front of you—reaching, calling your name—but their face was a blur.

Then everything went dark.

Hongjoong hadn’t left your side since you were admitted. He sat in the stiff hospital chair, your hand cradled tightly in his, his knee bouncing restlessly.

How did he miss the signs? The exhaustion in your eyes, the way your energy had been slipping day by day. You’d been skipping meals—he knew that now—but he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen you eat.

The guilt clawed at his chest, sharp and suffocating.

Then you stirred. A soft groan slipped past your lips as you slowly sat up, disoriented and sluggish.

Hongjoong was at your side in an instant, the chair screeching back as he leaned over you, hands hovering like he wasn’t sure whether to hold you or let you breathe.

“Hey—hey, take it slow,” he said gently, eyes scanning your face for any sign of pain. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“What happened? I just remember going on stage,” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as your hand moved to your head, wincing at the dull throb settling behind your eyes.

Hongjoong let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He gently guided your hand down, his touch careful.

“You collapsed,” he said quietly. “Right in the middle of the performance. Scared everyone half to death.”

Your eyes widened as his words sank in, panic bubbling up as questions rushed to your lips—but Hongjoong held up his hands before you could speak.

“Yes, the boys are okay,” he said, voice firm but gentle. “They’ll come visit once you and I have a nice, long chat about your health.”

He gave your hand a light squeeze, his gaze unwavering.

“The schedule’s cleared for a few weeks—for all of us. We’re not letting you keep running yourself into the ground. You’re going to rest, and you’re going to eat, and we’re going to make sure you’re actually okay this time. We’ll be damned if we let you keep going like this.”

Hongjoong let out a sigh—not one of disappointment, but one heavy with worry and guilt.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he asked softly, his brows drawing together. “You nearly scared half of us to death. Do you have any idea how worried we were, Y/N?”

His voice cracked slightly at the end, and you saw it clearly now—how shaken he truly was. Not just as your leader. Not even as your teammate.

As your lover.

Your eyes welled up, the weight of everything finally crashing down. You looked down at your interlocked fingers, gripping his hand tighter as the tears began to fall, silent and steady.

“We were just so busy,” you whispered, voice trembling. “And I didn’t want to disappoint any of you. It didn’t feel like something to worry about… not until today.”

Your shoulders shook as you tried to steady your breath.

“It just got so hot, and we’ve worked so hard to be able to perform on that stage. I didn’t want to screw it up.” You paused, tears slipping down your cheeks. “But I did anyway. And I’m so sorry, Hongjoong…”

His heart broke a little more at the sight of you blaming yourself. Hongjoong’s expression softened instantly, his own eyes glistening as he reached up to gently wipe a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“Hey, hey… no,” he murmured, voice low and full of emotion. “You didn’t screw anything up, Y/N. You scared us, yeah—but not because you failed. Because we love you.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against yours, his grip on your hand never loosening.

“You don’t have to carry everything by yourself. Not with me. Not with the boys. You’re not a burden, and you never will be. We’d rather a thousand cancelled stages than see you like that again.”

His thumb brushed over your hand, slow and grounding.

“You’re more important than any show. Please don’t ever think otherwise.”

“Now,” Hongjoong whispered, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, “be real with me. I won’t be mad, I promise.”

His thumb continued to trace soft circles against your skin, grounding you in his presence.

“When was the last time you ate?” he asked softly.

His voice held no judgment—just concern. And love. The kind that made your chest ache all over again. Because you knew the answer wasn’t something he’d want to hear.

You slowly pulled your hand away, gaze dropping to the blanket, unable to meet his eyes. And that alone was all the answer he needed.

Without hesitation, he reached out and took your hand back, holding it even tighter this time.

“Oh, Y/N…” he whispered, heart breaking.

Your shoulders began to shake as the guilt and exhaustion finally caught up with you. You looked up at him, eyes glassy and voice cracking.

“I’m sorry, Hongjoong. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

He didn’t say anything right away—just pulled you into his arms, holding you close like you might slip away if he didn’t. One hand cradled the back of your head, the other wrapped firmly around your waist.

“I know,” he murmured into your hair. “I know you didn’t. But you don’t have to be sorry for falling apart. Not with me.”

He held you like that, letting you cry, letting you be human.

[callmenigma]

Heaven in His Hell

Summary: In a world where darkness clings to fame and demons whisper through the cracks of sanity, Jinu—an idol haunted by an unseen voice—meets a mysterious girl who radiates impossible calm. Drawn to her like a man drowning to air, he doesn’t yet know she’s an angel in disguise… nor that their connection defies the rules of heaven and hell. As obsession brews and fate unravels, a forbidden love begins to take root—between the damned and the divine.

Pairings: Jinu x Fem!Reader

Genre/Warnings: fluff, slow burn, oblivious characters, light angst, hurt/comfort, pining, forbidden love, demon, angel

Part 1: A Silence That Shouldn’t Exist

The sun had long retreated, shadows bleeding across the cityscape, neon lights and dim street lamps mingling together to form pools of artificial twilight. Jinu’s footsteps echoed quietly along empty pavement, and in the hollow darkness surrounding him, the familiar whispers stirred—relentless, mocking, and strangely comforting. Gwi-ma’s voice was always there, whispering doubts and taunting him with cruel laughter, constant and cruel like the buzz of electricity.

“You’re so predictable, Jinu,” it hissed, low and amused. “Sneaking out alone, again. Who are you fooling? You’re desperate.”

He grit his teeth, fingers tightening into fists at his side, pressing nails into skin until pain sparked brighter than the voice’s taunts. He knew it was reckless to wander here—he wasn’t meant to be alone on these dark streets—but tonight his chest felt tighter, heavier than usual. Tonight, he sought distraction.

That voice was always there. Whispering, clawing, biting through the edges of Jinu’s thoughts like rust. He could be smiling at fans, laughing on variety shows, or lying on his back in bed, staring up at a ceiling he couldn’t recognize anymore, and still—always—the voice crept in.

But tonight, the voice was louder than usual. Worse.

He shouldn’t have left the dorm. He knew that. His manager’s voice was still fresh in his ear, warning him to lay low. "Too many fans hanging around. It's getting risky."

And yet, here he was. Hood pulled up. Hands in pockets. Wandering the edge of Myeongdong like a shadow looking for a body.

He hadn’t meant to be in this part of the city. It wasn’t on his schedule—not that he followed it anyway these days. The staff thought he was at a late shoot, the manager thought he was in his hotel, and the truth was… even Jinu didn’t know what he was doing here.

The streets were quieter here. Older. They belonged to a version of Seoul that most people forgot existed. A flickering neon sign buzzed above a closed tailor shop, and the sharp bite of early evening clung to his collarbones. He tugged his hoodie a little lower, head down.

That’s when he saw you.

Standing beneath the washed-out glow of a streetlamp, your figure felt oddly ethereal, bathed in pale light that outlined your form in delicate clarity. Even from a distance, Jinu felt an unfamiliar shiver curl through his bones, something cautious yet curious. He watched you tilt your head slightly upward, eyes tracing something unseen above, the quietest smile curling your lips.

Something about you was… off. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what or why, but he was certain he’d never seen someone who radiated such peculiar calmness. Normal people had edges, imperfections, visible cracks—yet your outline felt blurred, softened. Your presence felt like a misplaced melody hummed softly beneath the noise, one he recognized somehow but couldn’t place from where.

Before he realized what he was doing, Jinu began to follow. The whispers in his head grew louder, accusing him:

"Look at you, drawn like a pathetic moth. You chase after shadows now?"

He ignored it. His heart quickened with each step, yet his feet moved on their own, guided by something deeper than mere curiosity.

Pathetic, Gwi-ma mocked again, Following after a girl you don't even know, desperately hoping she’ll save you from me?

"Shut up," Jinu muttered under his breath, hands curling into fists at his sides.

You moved gracefully, steps feather-light against concrete. Each moment he spent watching you only sharpened the unfamiliar ache in his chest. And when you paused at an intersection, your gaze slowly shifted, almost as if you sensed him, your head turned slightly.

Time slowed down as your eyes met his.

It happened in the blink of an eye, a fleeting heartbeat, but in that moment—there was silence.

Utter, pristine silence.

Gwi-ma’s mocking voice faded into nothingness. All the unbearable noise inside Jinu's mind dissipated, leaving him raw and vulnerable. He sucked in a sharp breath, the city's ambient noise clear and oddly comforting for once—car horns, footsteps, the gentle murmur of people nearby. He could hear his own breath trembling in disbelief.

He stared, unable to tear his eyes away. In the depth of your gaze, he saw something indefinable—a softness, a glow that no one else in this noisy, chaotic world possessed. Familiarity tugged at his heart, aching faintly. But it was distant, hidden behind veils of forgotten memories, unreachable.

“Who are you?” he murmured helplessly.

Before he could think clearly, your gaze broke away. The city blurred back to its chaotic noise again, violently wrenching Jinu back into reality.

Gwi-ma returned at full force, louder, crueler than before.

Ah, look at that desperation. It mocked, laughing cruelly in his head, making Jinu’s temples pulse with unbearable pain. How sad, Jinu—so desperate to grasp at silence that you'd chase after an illusion.

He winced, gritting his teeth against the agony that filled him. But despite the torment, he moved forward again, recklessly, desperately trying to follow after you.

Yet the crowd thickened suddenly, swallowing your figure effortlessly into a sea of anonymity. Panic rose sharply in Jinu’s chest as he searched frantically, eyes darting from face to face.

Gone.

She’s gone. Gwi-ma’s tone was disgustingly satisfied, dripping mockery. Now what will you do, pathetic little fool? Chase phantoms in the dark?

He stopped abruptly, head throbbing in agony, chest tight. Without the clarity of your presence, everything was louder, sharper, more painful. It felt as if every single noise pierced right through his skull.

But amidst the crippling headache and vicious mockery, one single truth became frighteningly clear:

He had to find you again.

Because, for once in his miserable existence, Jinu had finally felt silence—pure, gentle silence.

And now, even if it destroyed him, he was desperate to feel it again.

The hours slipped through Jinu’s fingers like smoke.

He wandered the streets long after the last shops had pulled down their rusted gates and the crowd had thinned to late-night stragglers and cigarette-lit ghosts. His hood was still pulled low, hands shoved deep into his pockets, but his pace had slowed from something desperate to something… numb.

He’d retraced every step. Twice. Three times. He’d turned down side alleys and empty stairwells, scanning rooftops and bus stops as if maybe—just maybe—you had lingered somewhere, waiting. But there was no sign of you.

No glow under another streetlamp. No humming silence. Nothing.

You were gone.

The ache in his chest had settled like a weight behind his ribs, dull and heavy, a reminder of something real—or not. A hallucination, maybe. A trick of the light. A lonely mind grasping for a miracle.

Gwi-ma was merciless.

Hours? You wandered for hours? Hah! That wasn’t silence, boy. That was madness. You're cracked open and bleeding, and you think salvation's gonna walk up to you wearing a pretty face?

Jinu didn’t answer. Not this time.

He’d let the voice rant. Let it claw and howl and jab at every raw spot it knew. But something in him had changed. Not enough to fix anything. But enough to resist.

It took effort—more than he’d admit—to lock the voice out. Like forcing a window shut during a typhoon. But he did it. Slowly. Deliberately. He pictured a heavy door inside his mind, thick and cold and bolted from the inside. And for now, Gwi-ma would stay on the other side.

The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful. It hurt. But it was his.

When he finally stumbled back into the dorm building, it was nearing 3 A.M. His feet dragged. His shoulders sagged. And his hoodie was soaked through with sweat and city fog.

The lobby lights buzzed dimly overhead. The familiar scent of sterilized floors and takeout containers filled the stale air. He was just reaching for the elevator button when a sharp voice cut through the haze.

"Jinu?"

He froze.

Their manager stood at the base of the stairwell, arms crossed, wearing a hoodie over his pajamas and dark circles under his eyes. He looked more confused than angry, which somehow made it worse.

“Where the hell were you?” the manager asked, walking forward slowly. “You didn’t answer your phone. You weren’t on set. You weren’t in the hotel. You just—what, vanished?”

Jinu opened his mouth. Closed it. The truth bubbled in his throat like a bruise.

I was chasing silence, he almost said. I saw an angel under a streetlamp and now my head won’t stop screaming.

But all that came out was, “I just needed air.”

The manager stared at him for a long beat, expression unreadable. “Air,” he echoed flatly.

Jinu nodded, not trusting himself to speak again.

With a sigh, the manager rubbed a hand over his face. “You scared the shit out of the staff, you know that? Next time you pull something like this, I swear—”

“I won’t,” Jinu interrupted quietly.

A lie. Or maybe not. He didn’t know yet.

There was silence again, but not the kind he wanted. This one was awkward, stretched thin by exhaustion and unspoken things. The manager finally stepped back, rubbing at his temple.

“Go to sleep. We’ve got rehearsal tomorrow.”

Jinu nodded again and stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut with a mechanical groan, boxing him in.

He leaned back against the wall, eyes closing as the hum of the machinery carried him upward.

He’d wandered the city for hours, searching for a stranger whose name he didn’t know. Maybe you hadn’t been real. Maybe his tired brain had finally snapped. Maybe Gwi-ma was right.

But still— He had felt something.