#elle.recs

[dairyminki]

1.) But how could it? Now that you knew what it was like to be loved by him, and what a thing it was to love him. Against all hopes, that night, you hoped he was right.  — DAMN I LOVE THIS

2.) “Don’t play dumb now” his face gets closer until his lips are pressed against the shell of your ear. “If looks could kill, I’d be dust right now. So would be Mingi” you gape at him, watching as he smiles amusedly. — FVCKING HELL? I'M SQUEALING LIKE A MADMAN HERE I CANNOT DO THIS

married in vegas | choi san

pairing: choi san x gn!reader genre: exes2lovers synopsis: choi san had been your first true love and who you'd hoped would be your last. but things don't always work out. too bad your friends were his too, and jung wooyoung was hellbent on spending a long weekend birthday trip in las vegas. never mind your poor heart. warnings: drinking, swear words, a lil angst, dramatics, fluff, unedited word count: 5.2k author's note: fourth installment is here! hope you like this one, i recently rewatched that one episode of friends (iykyk) and just thought i'd put the final dialogue from it in here, kinda. ngl i feel like on the whole i could've done better but i hope you'll enjoy your read anyway! :3

series masterlist | regular masterlist

The breakup was amicable. You stayed friends and, sure, you didn’t hang out as much as you used to - for obvious reasons - and, yes, you did try to get out of any gathering that you knew he was going to be at. Still, you were civil. You could be in his presence.

And yet, all of that didn’t explain why the mere mention of him joining his best friend’s birthday trip to Las Vegas, had you circling around the room like a madman. 

“I hope you’re fucking joking” you whine through the phone, earning a sigh from Yeosang.

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion” 

“Am I?”

After talking your best friend’s ear off for minutes on end, that sounded wrong to your own ears.

“How did you not realize? San is Wooyoung’s best friend, of course he’d be there!” he reasons, as if you need a reminder that you are being ridiculous. “Plus, he’s taking a huge leap of faith in inviting you both”

“Listen, it was months ago, he didn’t use the group chat to invite us, I didn’t put two and two together. I had a lot on my plate! And hey, we’re civil!” The silence that meets you is so loud. You sigh. “Sorry for the dramatics, it’s been a long day” 

After all, you are still recovering from having to dash home in a downpour. And having to stay after hours to have a long, unnecessary meeting with your head of department. Realizing your ex-boyfriend would also be joining your long weekend getaway was just the cherry on top.

“I’d say sorry for springing this up on you at the last minute, but then again, I could’ve just waited to see your face tomorrow” you hit him back with a real funny, Sang, smiling when you hear him snort. The line goes quiet for a second. “Do you want me to come over? We can head to the airport together in the morning” Yeosang says softly, a silent peace offering. 

“Are you kidding? Have you seen the weather?” you look out the window, the rain’s still unforgivingly pouring down. 

“Unlike you, I don’t refuse to drive in dire conditions” he pokes fun.

“You’re on thin fucking ice, Kang Yeosang” 

“I’ll be over in ten” you could basically see his amused grin. You let out a chuckle hanging up. Then you press a hand to your forehead, trying to soothe the headache starting to form.

Choi San is the boyfriend. The one you never thought would leave. The one parting from hurt like nothing you ever experienced. The one you eventually bounced back from, but did you really? Because it still feels as if he was a part of you, just as much as you are a part of him. And when he left, you had to re-learn how to go through life with a missing piece.

He’d been your best friend, the person you ran to for everything. Someone you loved so much that it scared you sometimes because you knew just how much it would kill you to lose him. 

Choi San is the one that got away and took a piece of you with him.

But what could you do, after months of healing and avoiding him, when your friends were his friends too? Declining invitations got old fast. The first time you saw him again, you thought you could handle his presence for the night. And you did but cried the whole way home. After that, no more. With time, it got better. Seeing him no longer left you with a sinking feeling. Of course, it isn’t like before, but it never could be, and you made your peace with that.

Still, after one year, you microdose on San, afraid of what could happen to your heart if you spent too much time close to him. It’s for your own sake, your peace of mind. That’s why, when it finally clicked into place that you’d be spending a whopping four days in his presence, you flipped. 

The doorbell pulls you from your thoughts, and a smiley Yeosang holding a bottle of wine greets you. You should have known better than to accept alcohol as a peace offering from your best friend. Most of all, you should know that it never really ends with just one bottle. Because now you are incredibly hungover, severely nauseous and totally late for your flight. 

“This is all your fault” you hiss as Yeosang asks the Uber driver to please hurry. Both your phones are annoyingly dinging with unread text messages, not helping your headache at all. 

“Excuse you?” he turns around, tone accusatory. “As far as I remember, you were the one who brought out the tequila” 

“Well, you didn’t stop me”

“You were crying!”

“Even worse!”

Your bickering is brought to an end by the screeching halt of the car in front of the airport. You ignore the severe wave of nausea it causes and get out, Yeosang right in tow. Incessant teasing and half-hearted blame tossing accompanies your run through the airport. 

With just five minutes to spare, Wooyoung’s screeching hyena laughter welcomes the two of you at the gate. Surely the matching sunglasses and coats thrown over your pyjamas are a sight to behold, you think as you hug your friends hello. 

“Birthday boy!” you pull Wooyoung into a big hug, giggling when he sways you both back and forth. 

“Thank you for coming” he already said that months ago, when he first proposed the idea, but right now - with San’s eyes on you - the sincerity in Wooyoung’s somehow shines brighter.

“Thank you for having me” you smile genuinely. The breakup put a strain on your group of friends for a little, and you wanted to make sure he knew how much you appreciated him wanting you here. He squeezes your hand, before moving to Yeosang. 

“We need to go, you’ll say hi in eleven hours when we land. Chop, chop!” Seonghwa rushes everyone to join the last few people in line. You let go of Mingi, laughing, hearing Yunho say something along the lines of they literally just started boarding, and follow the rest. You finish saying your hellos through boarding, finally facing San. 

As you always do when it comes to him, you push down whatever mixed feelings bubbled up in your chest and put on a smile. 

“Hi, San," you wave, so you're stunned when he just spares you a quick side hug, smiling curtly after greeting you.

Your friends had long stopped holding their breath whenever you two are in the same room, but this feels off. Like a splash of cold water, it sends you back to the first, awkward time you met up again. Nobody seems to notice though, apart from Yeosang. Unlike the rest of your friends, his gaze still lingers on you carefully. You subtly nod at him, like you always do. 

Sighing, you keep walking beside your best friend, not really able to shake the disappointment San’s cold greeting leaves you with. Despite your best efforts, you let it eat away at you during the flight, the car ride to the hotel and the moments you unpack. No amount of berating does it. Why would he behave like that? Is this all in your head?

It’s not like you two would usually have heart to hearts but you talked, at least. You were friendly. So you don’t get why suddenly San is being so distant. For Wooyoung’s sake, you promised yourself you’d do your best to ignore it all. Be the bigger person and not get involved with whatever bullshit had his panties in a twist. 

A whole day into the trip and you had to resist the urge to punch him in the face for behaving like an immature teenager multiple times. But you keep contact to a minimum. Complain to Yeosang in the comfort of your hotel room. Take several deep breaths. You aren’t good at this whole maintain-inner-peace thing.

“I just wish he would stop ignoring me” 

The view from the panoramic terrace of the hotel is breathtaking, but, margarita in hand and sunglasses on, you find yourself not fully appreciating it. Not when you are using your time away from the rest of the group to vent to your best friend. Again. 

“Ah, so you do care” the way Yeosang wiggles his eyebrows makes you want to wipe off that smirk on his face. 

“No, I don’t” he doesn’t look too convinced. “Seriously! He’s just making it hard to get along with him”

“Or is his distance making you think about stuff you don’t want to think about?” you hate how much your best friend knows you. You let out an exasperated sigh. 

The last thing you should be thinking about was your ex, but you can’t help it. He wouldn’t usually behave like that and, you had to admit, it threw you for a loop. Not to mention how you despise the way you still catch yourself thinking about him. It’s subconscious at this point and it's been hard to accept. Had he finally moved on? Were you the only one left running in circles inside your head?

No matter how much distance there is between the two of you, he’s still there, in a corner of your mind. Like a phantom pain, he follows you in the most mundane of things. The frozen aisle at the supermarket still reminds you of his favorite ice cream brand. When buying Christmas presents, your brain immediately goes to the one thing he’s been obsessing over. The reminders zap you like an electric shock, bringing you back to reality. San is a friend now - they say. Nothing more, nothing less. And so you’d berate your heart for acting like he wasn’t. You’d put down the tube of mint-choco ice cream with a sigh, and choose fucking socks as a present. 

“Promise we won’t change?” 

It was hard to make out the look on his face through the tears in your eyes. You never thought breaking up would hurt this bad, like giving up a piece of you. It felt like the end of the world. Of your world. One where you could no longer navigate life with San.

“You’ll always be my best friend” he murmured, lips against the skin of your neck. You felt the wetness on his face, too. “We’ll go back to how it was before”

But how could it? Now that you knew what it was like to be loved by him, and what a thing it was to love him. Against all hopes, that night, you hoped he was right. 

No amount of space was ever able to lessen the strain the break-up put on your already existing friendship. You keep it amicable, for everyone else’s sake, but it just isn’t like before. It could never be. You both broke that promise, one that perhaps you shouldn’t even have made.

You’ve long realized that it’s closure that you need. Because the two of you healed separately, but never really talked about it together. It’s a conversation you need to have if you intend on being around each other. What scares you the most, though, is the possibility of something happening. Or rather, of you letting it happen. You aren’t so sure about San. If you truly want to let go, you need to know.

The dings of your phones pulls you from your thoughts.

meet in the lobby in an hour-ish? we’re going out!

You share a look with Yeosang, knowing birthday celebrations are due tonight, and Wooyoung isn’t about to hold back. 

“Let’s go” your best friend offers an encouraging smile, walking back to the room with you. 

-

The second you go down to meet with your friends, you feel yourself stumble on your heels and almost wish to find a way out of this dinner party. Now, you aren’t a stranger to San’s beauty, you never were. But holy fuck, how you wished that he was still yours. If he were, you could saunter up to him and tell him just how breathtaking he looked with his unbuttoned white shirt and slicked-back hair. The knowledge hits you like a train and leaves you breathless.

You need a drink. 

And, boy, do you get one.

You don’t remember the last time you had this much fun. Wooyoung sure knows how to party. The dinner went quite smoothly - safely hidden between Yeosang and Mingi, you didn’t spare much attention to San, not that he spared you any - and soon after the birthday boy dragged you to a club.

“Sunshine!” Wooyoung appears out of nowhere, stealing you away from your impromptu dance battle against a buzzed Mingi. “Don’t you look stunning” he compliments, twirling you around, flirty as usual. You cackle, throwing your hands on his shoulders. 

“Thanks Woo, you look dashing” you wink back, dancing with him.

“You shouldn’t be saying that to me,” he laughs. The confusion in your eyes must be enough for him to elaborate. “I noticed you’ve been eyeing a certain someone… who happened to be eyeing back”

“Who?” you’re going to fight this. No way.

“Don’t play dumb now” his face gets closer until his lips are pressed against the shell of your ear. “If looks could kill, I’d be dust right now. So would be Mingi” you gape at him, watching as he smiles amusedly.

“Wooyoung, we’re not going to talk about me and him during your birthday party”

“Oh, please! My birthday wish is for you two to get back together already!” homeboy is drunk. Your jaw hits the floor, and you smack his arm. He just laughs harder. 

“Wooyoung, what!? You can’t be serious” 

“Come on! You’re both incredibly oblivious about your feelings. It's getting sad” he groaned in frustration. “You’re still obviously hung up on each other and I can’t take it anymore, it’s excruciating! Take me out of this misery” 

“There’s a reason we called it quits, Woo” you deadpan, taking a step back from him.

“And it’s a stupid one,” he looks like he’s about to say more, but he can’t. 

“Alright enough” because Yunho, your saving grace, intervenes. “We’re going back to our booth” he shoots you an apologetic smile, half dragging the birthday boy away and back to the others. You don’t know how much of the conversation he caught, but judging by the good-natured scolding he’s doing, it was enough. You sigh, deciding it’s time for your well-deserved drink. As soon as you reach the bar, you claim the last free stool for yourself. 

Wooyoung’s words won’t leave you alone. They keep bouncing around in your head louder than the booming music. Was it really a stupid reason? But most of all, how drunk does he have to be to insinuate that San is still in love with you? That you are still in love with him?

You nod to the bartender when the drink lands in front of you. 

The night you broke up is a tangled up mess of emotions and memories you rarely ever allow to resurface. At first, it hurt too much, and then, just like everything else San, you tried to forget in order to move on. But if you think long enough, you still feel him slip away from you, the hollow in your chest when you woke up the morning after and his head wasn’t resting on the pillow beside yours. 

Lazily, you toy with the straw of your drink.

It was something about work and it keeping you apart that drove a wedge into your relationship. The nights when one of you would pass out waiting up for the other started to become the norm. The arguments that the lack of each other’s presence fired up outnumbered the sweet talks you used to have over dinner. 

Bitter words were spoken, and everything crashed and burned to its fateful end. The mutual decision to break it off before you broke the other seemed the best option. You never truly gave yourself time to think if you regretted it, afraid that bringing it up would only prevent you from letting San go. So, you foolishly swept it under the rug. 

And now, here you are, downing your drink in response to the wave of emotions Wooyoung’s words elicited in you. Trying to ignore how your skin crawls every time the man sitting beside you lays his eyes on you. Inching away every time he tries to talk to you. 

“We’re leaving” there is no mistaking his voice, but it feels so foreign. You turn around, facing him. His unreadable eyes send a chill down your spine. You lift a brow in question.

“You’re drunk,” San shrugs. “I’m taking you back to the hotel” 

Who does he think he is? Looking down at you from his high horse of righteousness, worrying about you like he cared. You scoff. 

“‘M not and you most definitely aren’t” you turn around in your seat, facing away from him. 

“Are too, come on” San’s hand reaches for your arm, turning you back around and trying to safely get you off the stool. 

“And what’s it to you?” you finally snap, shrugging him off. “You haven’t spoken more than two words to me the whole trip, why do you care now?” 

Despite your resolution not to cry, or not to care, you feel tears stinging in your eyes. So much for not letting him phase you.

“Yeah, let go man” all hopes of getting out of this situation are ruined the second the guy sitting beside you speaks. You roll your eyes, bracing for what’s to come and cursing yourself for not leaving the bar after getting your drink. “Who are you to ruin their fun?” 

“I’m their boyfriend”

Of course. 

But you can’t deny that the way he says it - like he very much believes it - moves something inside you. 

San doesn't waste any time and doesn’t wait for a reply. His fingers wrap around your wrist delicately, making goosebumps cover your skin. His hold is familiar, warm and it makes you feel like crying. Too stunned to speak, you let him carry you through the stuffy club, not even bothering to apologize to the people you bumped into. 

It takes way longer than you’d like to get out of the club, and the lump in your throat is getting harder to ignore by the second. Suddenly, you don’t feel like blaming San all that much for ignoring you. 

Once the cold air of the night hits you, you free yourself from his firm grasp. San stops dead in his tracks, looking at you. You can’t do this right now. You worked so hard to keep things civil between you two, you can’t fight with him on Wooyoung’s day. Knowing that one more word from him would break you. You take a deep breath. 

“You just had to do that, didn’t you?” Clearly, it didn’t work.

“And here I was, thinking I was going to get a thank you” 

You point a finger at his chest. “I can handle my own, San” and there it is, that look on his face that tells you he knows better. He knows you. And for a moment, you hate that he’s right. For a moment, you hate him for fucking with your head. “And you know perfectly well what I’m talking about” 

“Do I?” 

“What do you want me to tell you, San? You’ve been acting all distant and righteous these past couple of days, and then you pull this stunt?” This is most certainly a conversation you don’t want to have in the middle of the street, but oh well. “You could’ve just asked if I wanted a ride back to the hotel, there was no need for all that”

A gust of wind blows by, making you shiver. When San moves closer, all traces of his anger gone, you stand still, holding your breath. Dumbstruck, you follow his every movement. San peels his jacket off, only to drape it over your shoulders. Something he’s done a million times before. A melancholy so strong pulls at your heartstrings. You didn’t think he noticed. His touch lingers a second too long, eyes looking into yours as if asking if what he just did was alright. 

“Thanks” you mumble, watching him step back. The warmth melts your anger away as much as it messes with your head. You don’t like how the air shifts and becomes heavy with the weight of words left unsaid. 

But what would you even tell him? That, apparently, for how much you tried, you can't move on? That he lingers in your mind, in your heart, your apartment. That he’s still all over you, and you don’t know how to shrug him off – you aren’t even sure if you want to. 

“I miss you” the words leave your lips before you have a chance to stop them. You definitely shouldn’t have drunk tonight. San’s eyes are on you in a split second, but yours stay focused on the pavement. You can feel his gaze putting you on the spot, begging you to say more. You don’t.

“Me too” he speaks so quietly that his words almost get lost in the night. 

San waves a taxi over and helps you in. The whole ride back is quiet; you’re a second away from bursting into tears, having finally realized the extent of your feelings for San. Only cursing Wooyoung for being right keeps you in one piece until you reach the door to your room. 

You go to unlock it and turn around to give him his jacket back. Not being surrounded by his scent sends your heart to your feet. You can’t believe all the work you did not to feel like this anymore has gone to shit. 

“Thank you,” you say once more, before turning to step into your dark room so you can cry to your heart’s content and pretend none of this happened in the morning. 

San’s hand grips yours, stopping you in your tracks. When he whispers your name, you’re done for. One second you’re about to hide in your room and the other he’s turning you to him. You can see how he's looking for the words to say. You know that expression all too well, you recognize the furrow of his brow. Then e pulls you closer and the breath gets knocked out of your lungs. He’s closer than he’s ever been in a year and pressed as you are against his chest, you’re afraid he might hear the way your heart is furiously beating. 

His sorry eyes are scanning every inch of your face, or so you think, blinking back tears. Under his gaze, you’re burning. Because you want him to let you go and hold you closer at the same time. His hands on your hips are still delicate, you can break free at any time, but you’re not sure you want to. 

Your breath hitches when his forehead connects to yours, you can’t breathe, you can’t think-

And then he’s kissing you, and it’s like coming home. It tastes sweet like your drink and bitter like the whiskey on his tongue. You’re unsure if the saltiness is from your tears or his. It’s familiar and your gut tells you that it’s so right, so good that you push yourself closer, lose yourself in him. San’s hold on you is almost bruising, and he’s kissing you like you’re the only thing he’s ever known. Like he used to when he wanted to show you just how much he loved you-

You push away from him like you’ve been stunned. His confused eyes search your face, asking what’s wrong. You clear your voice, but no words leave your mouth. So, when he calls your name with a voice so fragile that it makes you shiver, it’s all you can do to bid him goodnight and finally lock yourself in your room. 

Your lips are still tingling, you still feel San’s mouth on yours. In the darkness, a sob wrecks you. You’re supposed to be over him. You spent so much time trying to be. Your heart shouldn’t be breaking this way; for the time you lost trying to forget him, for how all your efforts were in vain.

“Let me in” though muffled by the door, his voice makes you jump. “Please”

Another loud sob escapes you, and you curse yourself for not stepping away from the entrance. Of course, he’d stay. Of course, he’d hear. Well, you can’t run now, can you? 

When you open the door, San’s head shoots up. He goes to take a step but hesitates. You simply open the door wider, and he visibly relaxes. After letting him in, you close the door and turn on the lights. The silence is thick, and you almost can’t breathe. 

“I’m sorry” he starts, catching your attention. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done a lot of things these past few days” despite your tears, you manage a scoff. 

“Why?” it’s all that leaves your lips, but you know he’s caught on. You’re met with silence. Disappointment spreads like wildfire in your heart. He doesn't even have an answer - you bitterly think.

“So you’ve got nothing to say for yourself?” you push, starting to feel the anger bubble up inside. “You know how hard I’ve tried to make this trip work for Wooyoung's sake? For all our friends' sake? So that they don’t have to walk on eggshells around us, or invite us out one at a time?”

“And I haven’t!?”

“Oh, don’t sound so surprised, San!” you take a step closer. “We were doing alright, why’d you have to go and act like you have a stick up your ass whenever I’m around? Wooyoung’s your best friend, for crying out loud!”

“Don’t act all high and mighty! Have you ever considered, hell, even ever stopped to think-”

“Have I?” oh, if he only knew. “Have I? All I ever do is think, San! You’ve haunted all of my what-ifs ever since we broke up. So you can’t go ahead and pull shit like this when I’ve been trying my damn best” 

Your voice is thick with emotion and your throat feels tight. The deafening silence that meets you makes your ears ring. San visibly deflates and the way he speaks is in open contrast to how you just did. 

“Would you keep trying?” you don’t remember the last time you heard him sound so small. Still, his eyes are so full of determination. 

“Why would I?” you ask, defeated. It’s like a flip switches inside him. 

“Because I love you! I still love you” 

Time stops, and for a moment nothing exists but you and your racing heart. It’s going so fast you fear it might beat out of your chest, or that he might hear it. It’s so loud that it rings in your ears. A surprised gasp escapes your lips: you understood perfectly fine, you just can’t believe the words he just so desperately uttered. 

“I’ve been in love with you longer than I can remember. I loved you when I thought I’d never get to tell you again. I loved you when loving you quietly and at a distance was all I could do, but it was alright as long as I got to love you”

“San…”

“I’m sorry for earlier. I’m sorry for these last couple of days. There’s no excuse, but I just…” he sighs, closing his eyes. You go to take another step, but all determination to do so dies when you see him produce a little velvet box from his pocket. Your breath hitches and a sigh of his name leaves you. “All I could think about leading up to this trip was our first anniversary. You remember how we joked about eloping in Las Vegas?”

It seems your tears won’t stop flowing. You can’t believe he remembers. It was such a small thing, it takes you a second to connect the dots. It was a comment thrown around, something you said to make him laugh. Though you remember thinking that if he’d asked, you would’ve said yes in a heartbeat. 

“I’ve had this since then” hope sparks in your heart, though you’re not really sure you’re even breathing right now. 

“San-”

“Don’t. I know this is so incredibly stupid, I don’t even know why I brought this with me-”

“Ask me” finally, finally he looks up at you and there’s no doubt in your mind. You still love him, you always have. You always will. 

“What?”

“Choi San, ask me or I will” he’s blanking, frozen in his spot. So, you get down on one knee. His eyes widen and you hear sounds of protest. Suddenly it’s a race on who’s speaking first, both on your knees, face to face. You’re giggling like idiots, tears in your eyes. 

“I thought that I could manage life without you” he starts, and you let him intertwine your fingers. “I thought we could go back to being happy without being in love. That we’d be better at a distance, but I was so wrong. The only thing that matters is that you make me happier than I ever thought I could be, and if you let me, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way. Fighting to make us work. I already made the mistake of giving you away once, I'll never make it again"

"Will you marry me?”

You waste no time in kissing him, big smiles barely making it a kiss, but you don’t care. You don’t care because San just asked you to marry him. Because he’s lifting you up and spinning you around and kissing you like he’ll die if he doesn’t. And for the first time in a while, you’re happy. So happy you could burst, laughing like you haven’t since you let him go. 

“Do you think we should go get married?” he asks, swaying you around in his arms. You stare up at him, snorting. 

“Maybe let’s wait till tomorrow, when our friends aren’t drunk off their faces, you know?” he chuckles, looking at you like you’re the only thing that could ever hold his attention. How could you ever convince yourself even for one second that you didn’t want to fight for him? 

bonus:

Yunho’s slowly munching on a croissant, head resting on Mingi’s shoulder – who’s barely awake. You fear Wooyoung’s not even on your same astral plane right now, forehead against the table and hand gripping a coffee cup for dear life. Yeosang’s head is thrown back against the wall, he’s sipping slowly at his own coffee. It almost makes you think that you and San walking hand in hand could go unnoticed. 

“Is that a ring?” you should’ve known Seonghwa’s sharp eyes wouldn’t miss it. After all, he’s the only one remotely awake. That, and he’s the only one not wearing sunglasses at the breakfast table. Lethargically, your friends’ faces emerge from behind the shades. Various sets of eyes squint in your direction as you come closer. 

“Holy fuck you got back together” surprisingly, the voice is Wooyoung’s, though he sounds exactly like he just came back from the dead. 

“Technically, we got engaged,” San points out. The words have barely left his mouth that suddenly his best friend is up and asking what, how, when, and why?! Eliciting various groans and shut the fuck ups. 

“My birthday wish came true!” he throws himself at you both, squeezing you in a hug. Over his shoulder, you look at Yeosang. Despite his tired face, he smiles at you. So do the rest of your friends.

“Alright so, wedding tonight before we leave?” Wooyoung smirks all too enthusiastically, and you hear Seonghwa mumble as long as we drink juice, eliciting a round of quiet laughs.

[fcbayern]

I was tagged by @moisekean 😊🌼 thank you!

Rules: You can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to! Put your favourite playlist on shuffle and list the first 10 songs, then tag (10) people. No skipping!

1. Auf Gute Freunde - Böhse Onkelz

2. Tainted Love - Soft Cell

3. Space Age Love Song - A Flock of Seagulls

4. Wagon Wheel - Darius Rucker

5. Ain‘t Gonna Drown - Elle King

6. Ludens - Bring Me The Horizon

7. That‘s All - sKitz Kraven

8. Deutschland - Rammstein

9. Sayonara - Rebecca & Fiona

10. Delicate - Taylor Swift

I tag: @manuelmueller @nikisuele @jakeperalta @loftuscheeks @goretzkaaas and @havertzz

[tsat0ri]

── ANGELS/ASKS

angel.talks ( just me & you chatting )

angel.thirsts⁺ ( all the thirsts send by you guys )

angel.requests⁺ ( your nsfw requests)

── MY STUFF

elle.thirsts⁺ ( me simping over lots of characters )

elle.chats ( random thoughts of mine )

elle.recs ( reccomendating sfw works )

elle.recs⁺ ( recommendating nsfw works )

[dairyminki]

"yeah, don't worry your pretty head about it."

AHHHHHHCK this!! smthng about the word pretty always makes me fuzzy all over!!

sage green | jeong yunho

word count: 633

request: congrats on 500 followers bestie‼️ may i request sage green + fluff/coffee shop au + yunho?

warnings: yunho and y/n are so stupidly in love with each other

author's note: you are so sick for requesting this babes (no you are not i actually died from the amount of fluff in here) hope you enjoy heheheh :D

it was absolutely ridiculous how often you visited the coffee shop that was conveniently located five minutes away from your campus and ten minutes away from your apartment. but who can blame you when the cutest man worked behind the counter.

"small vanilla iced coffee?" the cute barista asked, a warm smile on his face. oh did you mention that said cute barista knew your coffee order? that's how freakishly often you went.

an awkward giggle left your mouth as your cheeks warmed. "yes, please. i probably should take a break from all this cafiene"

you were too busy fishing your wallet out of your sage green tote bag to notice the cheeky smile growing on his face. "do you want to try something else without any cafeine?"

"excuse me?" you ask, the question throwing you off guard as you realize that this was out of your usual conversations with the barista.

"i can make you something without any cafeine if you prefer." he offers, the sage green sweater peaking through his coffee brown apron.

"sure, surprise me." you smile at him before sifting through your tote bag to look for your wallet.

"it's on the house, don't worry about it." the barista dismisses, shaking his head.

"are you sure?"

"yeah, don't worry your pretty head about it."

a slight blush forms on your cheeks at the word "pretty" and him using it towards you. he thought you were pretty? you were too wrapped up in the small win that the cute barista had some type of mutual feeling towards you that you didn't realize him visibly cringe at his words.

he meant to call you an endearing nickname or at least call you pretty but he didn't mean to say "pretty head". like who says that? head???

whatever, yunho tried to not think of the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to him just a few moments ago. he carried on behind the counter, crafting and perfecting your non-caffeinated drink.

after a couple of minutes, yunho called out your name for you to get your drink. even though he says your name every time you order, the butterfly feeling truly never goes away.

"what's the drink?" you ask before bringing the cup to your lips.

"take a sip and i'll tell you." he teases as he wipes down the counter, making his eyes look somewhere else before he dies from the bubbly feeling in his stomach that he gets whenever he sees you.

"oh my god," you gasp, "this is delicious! what is it?"

yunho heart beats ten times faster seeing you light up with excitement over something he made for you. "it's a uh s'mores hot chocolate. the sugar will keep you going for a little bit."

"it's wonderful! thank you..." you pause mid sentence realizing that you never knew the cute barista's name.

"yunho." he answers with a warm smile on his face.

"thank you, yunho." you finish, with a grin.

there was an awkward pause between the both of you. one of those, i don't wanna leave you but i don't know what to say type of situations.

"you, uh, wanna grab dinner later?" yunho quickly asks, his words almost slamming into each other from how fast he was speaking. "i know a pizza spot down the street and they have deals for two slices for a dollar on tuesdays."

"sure, yeah i would love to." you answer, the blush on your cheeks growing with every second.

"i'm off in thirty minutes."

"perfect, i'll wait for you then."

"perfect." yunho mumbles as he watches you walk to an empty booth. the sage green sweater he was wearing was making him sweat as he finally realized he made a move on you after taking such a terribly long time to.

who would've thought that the cute barista who knew your order felt the same way? ;)

[dairyminki]

“Soulmate, I fucking adore you but, holy crap!” — SORRY BUT I GIGGLED

“Hey, I think we’re soulmates!” he exclaimed, a big smile stretching his lips as he talked again: “You have no idea how excited I was to meet you, despite the pain you caused me. I learned to love you with all of it.” — HE'S SO CUTE (chip pls allow me to smooch him)

dynamic

Genre: soulmate!au, strangers-to-lovers, crack, maybe a bit suggestive but not really?, floofy floof

Word count: 2.1k

Pairing: rockstar!Wooyoung x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of pain and some broken bones, mentions of a funeral but nothing explicit (related to Seonghwa's story Memento Mori), mentions of crying, swear words, Wooyoung has some other piercings that he has irl, pet names, a kiss, possible grammar mistakes

Taglist: @shakalakaboomboo, @pocketjoong-reads, @nebulousbrainsoup, @justhere4kpop, @bluehwale, @bluisheye93, @ssaboala, @i-luvsang, @ad0rechuu

Networks: @cromernet 🤍

The music echoing through the loud speakers was suddenly replaced by your muffled breaths, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips as you kept messing up the same step for the nth time that day. You groaned in annoyance when your friend blamed it on the pain of your overworked limbs; yet, you signaled him to shut up, starting the music once again and trying to concentrate as much as you could before everything you crafted came crashing down—cause this scene happened exactly two minutes before the disaster. 

Wooyoung was helping his bandmate, Hongjoong, upload some announcements on the internet as they temporarily needed a lead vocalist who could replace Seonghwa on their tour. Due to the loss of his soulmate, all he wanted was to stay back from fans and fame for a bit, and they were all willing to give him a well-deserved break and wait for him. 

"You know you can still call me whenever you need help, right, guys?" Seonghwa asked on the other side of the phone, voice low and raspy due to all the crying he'd been through. 

Hongjoong smiled and nodded, wishing nothing more than to be close to his friend and show his support in this hard period. Attending a funeral would never be easy, especially when it’s your soulmate’s, your other half’s grave you're crying on; so he just wanted to show love to his friend. 

“Yeah, Seonghwa, just relax. It will be alri—’’

“OUCH! MY FUCKING HAND!” a sharp scream was heard, followed by another one: “It hurts, I can’t feel my hand, ouch!” 

“Woo?” 

“Soulmate, I fucking adore you but, holy crap!”

Hongjoong looked worriedly at Wooyoung, hanging up the phone as Wooyoung continuously hissed in pain. Among the eight rockstars, Wooyoung was the most excited to meet his soulmate—despite the pain he had to go through. Thus, he was convinced it wasn't one-sided; Wooyoung was clumsy and made you suffer a bit as well, and after all, where would the fun be in having such a bond, if not in teasing each other about the places you've hit yourself? Wooyoung endured all this pain for the sake of your tied souls, the pain that wore his soulmate's face, so he was taking it like a champ—not today, though. 

“Does it hurt that bad? Do you need to go to the hospital? You have quite a low pain tolerance, maybe it’s too muc-’’

“Shut up and just take me to the hospital!” 

Hongjoong took a long breath and shut his eyes, allowing Wooyoung to talk to him like that only this time. It’s safe to say that it was a hell of a day for both of you; all you wanted was to prepare the perfect choreography for the opening of Guerrillas’ concert, yet everything seemed compromised now. You were on the way to the hospital and you were sure you had some broken bones, crying not only for you but for your soulmate too, knowing how hurtful that must have been. Minho was nagging at how he told you that it was too much, but as soon as he saw the tears on your cheeks, he stopped. 

“Y/n, you will be fine… I’m by your side.” Minho, better known as Lee Know, your friend and partner for over ten years sighed, rubbing your back to soothe you a bit. 

You tried to take deep breaths, being used to this kind of pain, but more likely overwhelmed due to the wrong time this happened. As soon as you reached the hospital, your friend helped you get out of the car and followed you inside, asking for a doctor who could see you soon. At the same time, Hongjoong made it to the hospital too, carrying his extra whiny friend as he didn’t seem to shut up about his condition. 

“I’ll get you both an X-ray, prepare. I will need to cut your shirt so that I can have access to your hand, okay?” the doctor professionally said, until you heard some protests from an emo guy. 

“My mesh shirt? No, doctor, sorry but you are not cutting this.”

“Wooyoung, let her do her job.” Joong sighed, rubbing his temples as the younger one was giving him a headache. 

“No, no! No one is touching my outfit, I put a lot of effort into it!” 

Already losing his patience regarding Wooyoung’s antics, Hongjoong nudged his nape slightly in order to make him shut up—yet Wooyoung didn’t seem to be the only one affected. 

“Ouch!” you said in unison. 

Your eyes widened and you looked immediately around you, in search of the voice that echoed your scream, realizing that besides your friend, the emo guy, his friend, and the doctor, the room was empty. You stared at the shiny, silver jewels that adorned the long-haired guy’s ears, your eyes unconsciously roaming on his eyebrow piercing, then slowly, on his handsome features. His hair was tied in a messy ponytail, and you were completely out of it; was he really your soulmate? You must have been daydreaming for a while, because you felt Minho’s fingers pinching you, and when you flinched in pain, the guy copied your reaction—he had to be your soulmate. You opened your eyes to see him standing next to you, an overly excited wave coming from his healthy hand. 

“Hey, I think we’re soulmates!” he exclaimed, a big smile stretching his lips as he talked again: “You have no idea how excited I was to meet you, despite the pain you caused me. I learned to love you with all of it.” 

You smiled softly, reciprocating the feeling; the soulmate bond has always been a special thing for you, so now, with your soulmate beside you, you couldn’t help but show it to the world. Soul ties have fascinated you since you were just a little girl; something about having your own half, someone you could call yours forever, made you shiver with excitement. 

“I’m happy to meet you as well, emo guy.” 

Hongjoong smiled softly at the sight of his friend, an arm on his shoulder as he played with his hair softly: “Wooyoung is quite a special human, he is more than the emo guy he wants to be perceived as; he has a lot of love to give you.” 

You nodded at his friend’s words, Woo’s hand touching yours before the doctor came back, taking you to the place where you would be examined. 

“Seems like you two have a broken arm,” the doctor said, writing something down before talking again: “you should take some rest and medication, for at least a few weeks.” 

“I won’t be able to play the guitar for that much time? Holy crap, what would you guys do without your dear bassist?” 

"So we need to replace both Seonghwa and you now, amazing." Hongjoong said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at the younger one who was sticking his tongue at him.

The familiar names seemed to make more sense now, as you opened your mouth to speak.

“Don’t tell me… are you guys members of Guerrillas?” the words left your mouth as your soulmate smirked, nodding. 

“See, Joong? She’s a woman of culture.” 

“No way, I was supposed to dance at the opening of your concert!” 

You saw the shocked look on their faces; they were surprised to have one of the best dancers at that moment, and the leader of a well-known dancing crew beside them. 

“I guess I couldn’t get luckier, then.” Wooyoung whispered, hugging your shoulders with the other hand while you leaned into his touch. 

Three months passed since you and Wooyoung first met, and this period was filled with nothing but happiness and news in your life. You have discovered that under the cold allure he loved to keep on stage, he was a lovely, sweet guy (although clingy). He was also surprised by how much you resembled each other, though, in the end, you were his other half. His heart had always craved your touch, your voice, you. And despite those around you who were judging you for going too fast, you two felt as if it was the right thing to do. For Wooyoung, his soulmate meant another reason to keep pushing through when life gets hard, it meant happiness, the sweet sensation of spiritual fulfillment. For you? Your soulmate meant dynamic. A constant development of your personas, learning and growing together. A necessary energy that tied your souls together—it was giving you life, just like the blood flowing through your veins. And there you were now, in your practice room, your body settled between his legs as he laid his chin on your shoulder, watching whatever you were scrolling on your phone when suddenly, an idea hit you. 

“Should I show you the choreography that united us?” you chuckled, turning your head to see him better. 

“I would love to. Teach me too!” 

You smiled and got up, dragging him after you, in the middle of the floor. You started teaching him some of the easier moves in your choreography and watched as he followed along, though he seemed pretty much blinded by your beauty, and maybe, just maybe, a little lightbulb started to brighten his head with some amazing ideas too. He met the sight of his guitar, going to grab it as you looked at him. 

“Woo?” 

He just smirked, grabbing the guitar and attaching it to his torso with the help of its strap, then taking his phone and playing a rhythmic rock song, filling the speakers and your ears with a sweet melody. Queen's Crazy Little Thing Called Love was now serving as background music, while Wooyoung was working on strumming his guitar, fingers skillfully plucking the strings while he moved his head along to the music. You looked at him in awe, admiring how his hair fell into beautiful, raven waves on his face, the way the rings adorning his fingers shined with every movement of his hands, the way his body was swaying to the beat. 

It didn't take you a lot to start moving to the music, eyes shining with passion and love as you found yourself freestyling something. Your arms and legs were swaying graciously, making you get carried away with this being the first time properly dancing since your hand healed. Your soulmate wore a cheeky grin on his face as he started to sing the lyrics, his fancy attitude flying around him as he mouthed the words. 

"There goes my baby

She knows how to rock and roll

She drives me crazy" 

His smile kept growing bigger and bigger with every step he was making toward you, finally approaching you and putting his guitar aside. He smiled and his hands found their way around your waist, your bodies swaying in unison (more like jumping as you were too immersed into the music), into your little soulful party. He pressed his forehead on yours, noses rubbing together, making you giggle softly. You two kept stepping and stepping until he had you pinned to the wall as his face got closer to yours, his warm breath on your neck. His soft lips captured yours, your hands finding their way into his hair as your tongues molded into a sweet, yet passionate kiss. It was lovely, exuding a sincere emotion, the pure love between you—that was until you softly hissed when you felt something cold against your lips, looking at Wooyoung with a raised eyebrow, to which he only smirked. 

“Holy shit, do you have a tongue piercing?” 

“Surprise, baby.” 

You were face-timing your boyfriend while he was on tour, and the idea of cooking together popped into Wooyoung’s head. He was still upset that you had an event coming up right when he was touring (or at least that's what you told him, cause you had other plans), so there you were, trying your best to distract him from finding out more than needed.

“Hi, princess. We’re making waffles today.” 

“Okay, chef.” you nodded, giggling at how advanced he was with his recipe, while you were only taking the ingredients out, in order to waste time.

“My love, you are soooo sloooowww.” he whined, intentionally dragging the words and looking at the camera while you moved away from the camera’s view. “Baby, a bit to the right, please? I can’t see you, can you move your phone a bit?” 

He frowned when he noticed your sudden disappearance, looking around and noticing something off; you were definitely not home. What he expected to be your usual kitchen was replaced with some modern furniture, way too similar to the one in his hotel room. 

“Babe? Your kitchen looks so damn similar to mine… Are you perhaps in the same hotel as me? Did you trick me?” 

You smiled softly, knocking at the door and waiting for him to open it; without hesitation, he hung up the call and opened the door for you, catching you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist, whispering a slow “Surprise, baby.” 

[dairyminki]

“such a fragile thing can’t possibly handle life” — uhm excuseee me? why are they like this grrr

"Baby you're home!"

"Allow me," — fuckfcukfcuckdks mingiii such simple lines yet the effect on me is- GAHHH im kicking my feet in the air

Your stay-at-home husband, Song Mingi. The man who makes it— the time, the work, the stress— all worth it. — UHUH I BET HE RLLY DOES

— ✨️ collarbones ✨️

“What do you mean?", Mingi pouts, "Is it not good? I showered! Just for you, baby.” — I'M- not fine.

"Baby," he grins, kissing the inner sides of your thighs, "I would never do such a thing." — CHEEKY SO CHEEKY

𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 | song mingi x fem!reader

an ao3 requested husband!mingi one-shot

"Are you trying to challenge me?"

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: You come home stressed, feeling like the world wants only the worst from you. Good thing that your husband wants the best, right? Right...

"Baby, I would never do such a thing."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: fluff, smut

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 7.3k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): established relationship, girlboss office worker!reader, stay at home husband!mingi, praise kink, hand kink, size kink, service top!mingi, use of the pet-name “baby”, starts rougher but then gets really soft and gentle, cunnilingus, fingering, over-stimulation, passionate sex; reader and mingi are in their late 20s/early 30s, reader is a bit bratty but mingi is a brat as well, it pains writer mingi is not a sub in this FUCK, he puts reader in place just a tiny bit, but the dynamics are pretty even, reader and mingi love each other deeply

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: i wanted to make mingi wear a tanktop but when i digged for it THERE WAS NOTHING???? we never got tanktop!mingi selcas???? how do yall not die of hunger, no, THIRST?

anyhow. this was an ao3 request!!! i had lots of loving fun with it and i hope you do as well babes and bbies xoxo

Did you know married employees are respected more?

Well, that’s what statistics say, but you certainly have never had this observation be proven true. It’s been almost a year since the first time you’ve worn your ring at your work-place, but you still get weird looks for having settled down “too early in the relationship” at such a “young age”, as if they knew anything about your private life— so no, you don’t. You wouldn’t know anything about being respected more as a married employee, even if you’re a few working hours away from being promoted to General Manager.

You throw your keys into their respective tray and hold your nose-bridge, when you enter your house with the sound of your shoes immediately falling to the floor after you shake them off in frustration. Yes, you may have earned your money, but at what cost? To hear old people pick you out because “such a fragile thing can’t possibly handle life”, despite being their lead director, have their hairy fingers pointed towards you since “someone like Y/N needs extra checking” despite you never having missed a dead-line, and to be eyed by them while you’re just trying to get your papers— oh, fucking hell; that is, by definition, not respect, that is horror, and one more reason to finally just quit your job and—

“Baby, you’re home!”

You take deep breath.

“Here I am.”

“Allow me,” your husband hums, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his torso close to your back; he’s rubbing himself against you with the excuse that he’s helping you get that fucking bag from your hands, and you let out an exhale once the weight is removed from your grip and lands on the floor. He is masterfully not referring to the fact that you came a full hour later than the initial time you have texted him you would arrive, and rather focusing on the how your shoulders feel more tense than usual, massaging his strong thumbs into them.

“Thank you,” you sigh and lean the back of your head against his breast, for he’s towering over you like a guardian pressing gentle kisses onto your hair, making him one comfortable, cushioned wall. You feel a bit guilty for not having asked how his day went, but for all you know, he’s having a blast arranging his new studio that he wants to use in the future to produce with other music artists, but most importantly, help you earn money.

Your stay-at-home husband, Song Mingi. The man who makes it— the time, the work, the stress— all worth it.

“How do you feel, baby?”, he murmurs, kissing your temple while he’s at it. He brushed his teeth not too long ago, you can smell the remains of mint toothpaste at his lip. Is he being obvious? Yes, maybe. You're not complaining though. “Rough day?”

“Yeah,” you exhale and let yourself be touched by your husband, though it doesn’t make you as calm as it should in your heart. You’re not craving for any soft vicinity here, you want to smash something to the ground and stomp on it; you’ve spend the whole day surrounded by the loudest, noisy, dim-witted idiots who are certainly preying on your downfall if they don’t fucking—

“Tell me all about it, baby,” Mingi murmurs, his vocal chords vibrating against the back of your head, as he rests his chin on top of it. “I’m listening.”

Sometimes you ask yourself whether you would still be receiving the same comments, if your co-workers knew who Mingi was. Not because he’s some famous man to be afraid of, but because he is taller than all of them, has got a louder voice and could knock those douchebags out with his muscly arms— okay, maybe they should be afraid. Very afraid.

“No, it’s okay,” you breathe and turn around to get your arms around your husband’s waist and press your face into his collarbones that you didn’t realize were revealed. "Button up,” you murmur, almost annoyed that you can inhale Mingi’s comforting scent through the cleavage as well as you can. You wanted to stay angry for just a little bit longer, but your husband makes it nearly impossible. Not to say it doesn’t make feel you any less hot though.

“What do you mean?", Mingi pouts, "Is it not good? I showered! Just for you, baby.”

You chuckle and your lips graze his freshly-washed, freshly-lotioned baby-smooth skin. “No… It’s too good…”

Mingi gets his hands into your hair and rubs his finger tips across your scalp.

“What were you stressed about, baby?”, Mingi continues to ask you, applying a bit of pressure to his touch, his hand feeling like it’s ripping off the upper layer of your head in the best way possible.

“My co-workers hate me,” you murmur, teeth gritted. Your breast begins to slightly enflame at the thought of your co-workers’ faces, but your husband doesn’t seem to mind your tone as much, allowing your mind to roam freely.

“Hate you?”

“They, like, hate my existence.”

“What would they hate you for, baby?”, he asks, working his long fingers down to the lower side of your head, reaching for your neck to scratch it. His hand is well big enough to do all of it at the same time.

Preparing to answer his question, you inhale and exhale deeply, smelling the clothing and leaving it warm.

“They hate that… I’m already settled down at my age.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that I am as confident about it and— and as hard-working as I am…”

Mingi chuckles and strokes your hair one time to get your hair in its right place after having mushed it. His touch expands warmly on your scalp and it spreads like a soothing wave of comfort.

“They hate that,” you inhale, and then —with revelation— exhale, “I’m such a strong, successful woman.”

“There you go. My strong,” Mingi murmurs, and he’s letting his hands glide down your back, “successful,” further down your ass, “wife.” Squeeze.

“Oh,” you chuckle, fully aware that nothing is on your husband’s mind rather than to persuade you to get into bed with him. Cleaning his teeth, showering, putting on fresh clothes— Did he even shave his beard by himself? Wow.

After almost a year of marriage, some clues become very self-explanatory.

His amazing hands work their amazing ways on your ass, and as it goes for Mingi, he always prides himself that he can make you melt under his touch, especially when you come home from work late on days like these.

“You should just let your anger out on them next time,” Mingi smiles, cupping your ass with the big surface of his hand and you can feel how he’s trying to figure out whether he can raise you up like this— spoiler: he can— and continues to encourage you. “Or on me.”

Were you implying your co-workers should be scared of Mingi? Yes, but also no. For someone your size, despite seemingly being ever-so tiny in your husband’s embrace, to make it so big in such a short time is astounding; ground-breaking, even. You may or may not know, but Mingi finds you are one cold-blooded woman whose blood only boils when she’s being provoked, and if there is one thing your husband wants you to prove to your co-workers, it’s that you won’t think twice once you’ve got the title of being their supervisor.

Too harsh? Maybe. But that’s something you can consider when they’re begging you to accept their apologies, no?

“Don’t edge me on, or I might actually turn into the Hulk or something,” you laugh hoarsely and raise your head up to him. Mingi looks down immediately and grins, continuously groping his hands into your butt.

“You can’t scare me,” he lulls and kisses your forehead, “because you’ll always be my little baby, Y/N.”

“Ohh, shut it,” you sneer and can’t deny that Mingi is the only one who can make you feel this small, “I wouldn’t be too sure I can’t scare you.”

“Do try, please,” Mingi insists with a cheeky smirk and gung-ho, you’re raised from the floor, being carried to the bedroom. Was that a challenge you heard?

“Be rough all you want tonight, alright? I don’t think your stress is gonna get away our traditional way today.”

“Really? ‘Traditional’?”, you huff and raise an eyebrow, Mingi kissing your cheek, as he opens the door to your bedroom.

“It’s almost our anniversary, let’s try something new, baby. I'll do anything you want. Don't care about me. I'll just be... you know. I don't know.”

“What? Is my husband getting bored of being in charge?”, you gasp theatrically, easing your hands into his shoulders, “Does hubby want me to order him around?”

“Let’s get rid of the terminology,” Mingi mutters, a bit sheepish, not wanting to admit that he read the term ‘service top’ somewhere in the deepest corners of the internet earlier this evening and had to ask you when you came home. You coming home an hour later just made him travel further the needy path, imagining how good he could make love to you, when his "own pleasure isn't the focus" (that's a quote from the website.)

“I just want my wonderful wife,” Mingi sighs, as he lets himself fall on the mattress backwards, with you landing on his hard-on, knees propped next to his hips, “And relieve you from all your stress.”

You’re still in your office attire, got your tie on tight around your neck, everything that screams ‘not ready for bed’, but Mingi doesn’t seem to care for your sheets to become dirty. In fact, he apparently wants you to be the dirtiest you’ve ever been, huh?

His long, slender fingers hold you by your jaw, as your husband roughly presses his lips into yours, immediately opening up his mouth to get a second taste with his tongue. While he tastes like mint toothpaste, you taste like bittersweet coffee, diligence and dedication; you are dancing heavenly on Mingi’s tastebuds, and his tongue laps over yours eagerly to not let any drop of your essence go to waste. He’s making you feel wanted, no, he wants you, and as Mingi takes your blazer off, your own desire to have him grows bigger with each passing second.

Your legs feel a bit tight due to the fabrics of your suit, but it doesn’t prevent you from grinding yourself into him, pants interrupting your greedy kiss. “Let’s get this off,” Mingi murmurs into your lips, hooking his finger into your tie, loosening it up, pulling it until he can wriggle your head through.

“Let’s get all of this off,” you reciprocate and his hands are on your waist, as Mingi watches you flawlessly open up the buttons of your blouse, tongue running over his lower lip. “Your co-workers don’t know you,” he chuckles, admiring you sitting on top of him with a look in your eyes that he could feast on for days, “But they should know that you are, fuck, breath-taking.”

You move your hips over his crotch, enjoying hearing your husband gutter out his thoughts.

“You are eye-candy in that, baby,” Mingi heaves, “I’m getting kinda jealous of your co-workers here.”

Cheeky, you let the blouse droop over your shoulders, revealing your lacy bra. Saying that you’re eye-candy doesn’t put it into words, Mingi thinks, and gulps at the sight of you stroking over your own torso and your breast that is just being so perfectly pushed by your lingerie, and— though it barely needs any convincing for him to swathe his tongue around your pretty nipples and get even more prettier sounds out of you— your slight gesture gets your husband’s head fuming with the things he wants to do to you to make you crumble and eat it all up deliciously, not leave anything behind.

“I bet they don’t get to see this though,” he grins and with a quick, studied flick of his fingers, the tightness around your torso is released and your tits are out for Mingi stare into. “Only I get to see this, don’t I?"

You nod and sigh, when he traces the red indents from your underwear with his thumbs and wets his lips; but before you think he's being too gentle, Mingi doesn't let you speak out the words 'yes, only you do' and interrupts you with his mouth, his hands holding you by your waist.

"Mingi," you pant. He has pushed you over on your back to the mattress without warning, caging you in with his frame. "Sorry, baby," he grins, pulls off his tank-top, throws it on the floor, quickly— he's got things to do here!— and then zips open your pants, kissing you from your cheek down to your collarbones, covering your body with his fresh breath. "Works better this way."

Mingi hooks his fingers into your trousers and pulls it off until your panties are revealed to him, but before he's able to wriggle it down to your calves and finally have it off your body, he's having a moment to look at his wife laying in front of him; your glowing eyes are glancing up, waiting, no, teasing, urging him on to do what Mingi has been planning to do since the first time he asked you when you would arrive back home.

"Please don't mention 'work'," you hiss, pushing your tongue against the inner space of your mouth.

He knows. He has never been there at your work-place, and he never asks you more about it than he should, because Mingi does think that his distraction works way better than to rant for hours, and he sees it, feels it— your anger, your frustration, your stress— but does he... well, how should he say this... care for it?

No.

"Why not?", is what Mingi whispers into your skin to make you roll your eyes and border him in with your thighs, the pants that aren't off yet keeping him between your legs. Fuck, you're so hot when you're stressed.

Okay, wait, wait, wait— hear him out.

First, please forgive him. You really have to. Mingi would never say this out loud, not under any circumstance that doesn't include you directly asking for it, but shit, look at yourself right now. Enveloped by your open blouse, your perfect breasts hanging out of it like a window luring him to peek like the shameful man he is, your facial expression judging him for his fawning— you are a goddess in his eyes, Y/N. And gods get angry. And then, when they're angry, they're the most powerful they ever are.

So there you go; Mingi, even though he's a husband that has never, ever throughout your marriage or your relationship, made you angrier for more than 24 hours, kinda enjoys it when you come home stressed, gritting your teeth, panting, groaning— talking to him with umph. The stress makes you riled up, makes you breathe fire, shoot flames out of your eyes that seduce him to be even more ignited, just for you.

"Are you trying to challenge me?", you huff and Mingi makes himself comfortable, placing his elbows around the sides of your body, anchoring himself on your lower abdomen with his forearm.

"Baby," he grins, kissing the inner sides of your thighs, "I would never do such a thing."

Except he is. When you get— and your husband thinks he's a genius to think of this— 'worked up', you become demanding, slightly sassy, playful, and there is nothing Mingi loves more than his wife to tell him exactly what she wants, because he knows he can be a bit dense sometimes. He tries his best, always, to do things according to your liking, but usually, you just let him do his thing since sometimes you need nothing more than his presence.

"I would never tease you like that, my," he pesters, "baby." With his lips stuck at the last inch before he's able to get it near your clothed cunt, you scoff, pressing your thighs together to squeeze his face.

"You better fucking not tease me tonight," you warn him and Mingi bites his lip, feeling his already-very-hard cock twitch inside his joggers at the cause of your tone.

"I love you too much," your husband answers and moves his head around, his pointy nose grazing against your covered clit. Like an automatic reaction, you gulp and throw your face to the side, your hand intertwining with Mingi's long fingers that are resting at the seam of your panties.

"Oh, please," you taunt, “dare to give me your worst performance,” and you think you're safe, since his hands are occupied with yours, but when you are in bed with him, and proceed to tease Mingi like this, then you are never safe with your husband.

(Except the part that you are safe, and safe with the thought Mingi is indeed going to relieve you.) Pressing his tongue against the fabric, Mingi curves it into the band, pushing it with ease, without any type of struggle to— and you should've seen this coming— plunge his tongue into your folds. "Fuck, Mingi," you breathe and he's chuckling against your wet cunt, as he laps his wet muscle over your slickness to gather what has been collecting in your underwear, slow and sensually, though his heavy breathing tells you that he's going to feast on it in no time.

He ‘loves you’, you know that, but ‘too much'? — Can there ever be too much?

"Ohh, fuck, that's good, right fucking there," you groan, gripping into Mingi's hand. With your feedback, Mingi continues to purl over your clit, sucking the fluid so it can spread on his tongue and melt in his mouth.

No. There could never be too much.

You taste so delicious, and it goes without saying that Mingi finds it fascinating that you look even better from this angle; he can see every lash of yours flutter with the slow flicking of his tongue, adding speed as he goes. “Yes,” you whimper, “‘feels so good.”

His heart and mouth are cooperating wonderfully, as his lips are spelling words of awe into your labia; He’s pronouncing how good it feels so good to be your husband, how good it feels to do good— and oh, it is so good to be yours, Y/N. You can’t even believe. The sounds you let out tingle all of his senses and he’s definitely going to have to hurry with his studio, if he wants to eternalise them.

Mingi holds the eye-contact to not miss any of your expressions, laving at your cunt with bizarre flexibility that makes you twist here and there, but his forearm is pressing you down to keep you on your back. "Squirmy," he grins, babying you while you are unable to open move your legs, since your own set of trousers is keeping them closed together, "am I doing you that well?”

Panting because of how constrained you are despite wanting to move around so much, you throw your head down on the soft mattress. "Uh-huh," you exhale, feeling his tongue circle around your clit and tease itself into your entrance, "so well."

Mingi's head is spinning. He wants to make you cum so fast, but he also wants you to beg for your orgasm until your voice is hoarse from the moaning, just so he can see your ribcage move up and down the bed one more time, no, please so many times, and maybe he could get his fingers in so he can— fuck, didn't he plan this out?

He makes it look easy, but in your husband’s mind, he's puzzling and figuring out the ways to pleasure you the best way he can. Mingi heaves and laughs, noticing how he's been cutting himself short of breath, too excited to be pleasuring you. "You’re so beautiful, baby," he says, voice having become raspy and an octave lower than usual; it appears to you that he's drunk on your taste, "you're making me insane with that view."

You inhale through your mouth with your lip-corners pointing upwards, a bit shy with your husband's praise, but you have no other way around than to listen to Mingi's dreamy words. "Unnh-huh," you react, but once your husband is laving at your cunt again, talking amidst of it, you are becoming a mindlessly noisy mess.

"My pretty baby," Mingi murmurs, and as he does so, his mouth is flocking in your slick, tickling your clit repeatedly, "my prettiest, loveliest baby, so whiny for me, fuck."

"More, Mingi," you grunt, feeling like the blouse is keeping you tight, so you push yourself up and get it off your arms— Mingi uses his chance to pull your panties over your knees— and after that, the male digs deeper into your crevice, thighs pressing him in which makes him gasp for dear air, "please."

Your pleads are meaningful to him, make his heart jump, make his head click like he's a dog being asked to obey, and okay, Mingi doesn't think he wants to be a pet, let alone an animal, but— you know what? Your pleads not only show what a considerate wife you are, it also makes Mingi know how much you want him, and that’s the best feeling in the entire world, and he would do everything to chase your pleasure and praise.

“Oh, I got all night, baby,” your husband chuckles, he’s grinding himself against the bed, huffing and panting, tongue delving deep into you on your command.

He drags the intertwined hands of yours down the tiny bit it needs for his thumb to meet your clit, and as Mingi rubs extensively over it, your knuckles go white from how strongly you grip into his fingers.

Oh god, this is exactly what you wanted. His tongue, his lips, his hands, oh, his hands— his fingers; those ridiculously long fingers that cover your whole pelvic bone when extended— slender and rapid, frantically incautious over your cunt, so eager to push you over the edge, pull you back up and throw you over again and again; you love how they look against your body, on your head, on your neck, on your cunt, everywhere they travel during your desirous journeys.

"Aren't I so scarily good?", Mingi huffs, nervy and immodest, talking to get himself to breathe, clearly confident that you are feeling the best you've felt the whole day given the way your muscle was contracting around his tongue, when it was still in you; unfortunately you're unable to answer him with words, just letting out another gutsy "unnnh" as feedback.

"I know, oh, I know," he grins, his thumb rubbing over your clit like he's racing with your stuttered breath, but ultimately, he’s making you feel quite empty with the lack of his mouth at your cunt, and he’s making you feel that way on purpose, "I'm the best, I can do you the best—"

"Mingi! Your Tongue! Please."

After his pant, his mischievous little chuckle, you understand it, understand it all clearly: your naughty Mingi loves to be ordered around by his wife. Loves being ordered around knowing that, once his tongue is inside you, you'll do absolutely nothing to hold him back, and it does make you want to fuck him even more, doesn’t it? You love your husband, you feel so young with him, so undisturbedly yourself— and how loved you feel, too.

Humming a fond "I got you, baby", Mingi shuffles himself together one last time, your thighs sitting perfectly on his shoulders, and there he goes, driving his tongue into you, even more ecstatic than before; now, that you even begged him to, it's like your husband has taken enough of a back to duplicate the amount of vigor, exponentially getting faster and more impassioned. "Oh, fuck," you breathe out and with Mingi's tongue rubbing your inner walls wild and avidly, his thumb sprinting across your sensitive clit, you are heading straight to your first orgasm.

"Just like that," you whine, knowing very well that it gets your husband riled up well across his usual efforts, and you continue with it just to chase your high, "just like that, baby, just like—"

Hey now, did you just call him 'baby'? And how sneakily you did it, too! You know how crazy it gets him, you tease. Your husband’s tongue raves against your sweet spots and your slick gets combined with his saliva, his thumb using the moisture as lube to not miss any of the chances to make you squirm and spasm on his touches, but Mingi’s cock, his poor cock, twitches in the short moment his sweet, desirous pet-name is exhaled out of your pretty mouth he’s definitely going to need to kiss a thousand times until he can only taste the word “baby” on his lips.

His own pelvis is grinded deep into the mattress, and pearls of sweat form on both your foreheads, your eyes rolling to where you can’t see Mingi concentrating on your face, when it cums with a movement of your pelvis bucking up.

“… That!”, you moan, and Mingi pants, shovelling your come into his mouth, slurping it up so long until you physically have to wring with him to get his tongue off your pussy, but the trousers at your calves make it impossible. It’s Mingi’s choice here. And he’s not letting go.

“Ba—,” you squirm, rocking your body from side to side, “—by, please! Fuck!”

“Call me ‘baby’ one more time, just for me,” he lisps, laving his tongue against your throbbing, pulsating clit, all the while you try yank your ass down, overwhelmed by your prolonged pleasure.

“Baby! Baby, baby, baby—“, you whimper, and Mingi kisses your inner thigh, when he finally stops, satisfied by your calling. With one last peck on your clit, he lets go off your hands and slips out your chokehold, pulling off your pants by hooking his fingers in and sliding them off your feet. “Aww, look at you,” he beams, grinning, going through his hair and stroking his swollen lip, “all blushed away, reminds me of the older days, baby.”

“You are the worst,” you sob, and lay lax on the bed, legs once in for all extending and relaxing. Strangely enough, your head feels light, and your body that was straining and trying to get Mingi off of it, is now feeling warm and calming down from the high.

“Aw, you think so?” Mingi smiles, kissing up your leg, your hip-bone, pressing his lips on your abdomen, your tummy, your ribs, marking all of your body with his love-soaked mouth. "I adore you so much."

Having wrung with your husband, you got rid of some of the fighting needs, but— as you’re being smothered by him and his sweet antics— you sigh into the gentle, feathery contact with your skin, and play molten with his soft hair.

You remind yourself of his words, ‘don’t care about me’, but your husband would be a fool to assume that his wife doesn’t want to give him anything back. “Mingi,” you murmur— noticing that you’ve been closing your eyes due to the relaxation you are experiencing, and he immediately answers an attentive “yes, baby?” back, as he repeatedly kisses your jaw.

“Do you really want me to order you around?”, you hum.

“Haha, no, baby,” he chuckles, “it's just…”

Mingi harrumphes in his thoughts, wrapping his arms around your waist, laying his head on top of your tummy and looking up to you— whispering, "I want to do what's best for you. Especially on days like these."

Your heart throbs at the sight of your husband's hair being dishevelled, his already plump lips seemingly looking more peachy, rosy, kissable after he's eaten you out with more than greed and thirst; something that’s more valuable to a healthy marriage than the phrase ‘good sex, no ex’— Love. And the sweetest love there could ever be.

"You would do that for me, baby?", you ask him, your voice coming out sighed.

"Yes, of course," he insists, kissing you down your sternum, your ribcage moving up and down in a slow rhythm. “Baby, you work so much for us… I feel like this is something I can do for you in return, you know?”

“But what if I don’t make you cum?”

"Huh?"

Mingi stops kissing you and glances upwards. You grin. You wanted to catch him off-guard a little bit. (Though you don't know whether that's surprise in the white of his eyes or something like... intrigue.)

“… Uh,” he gutters, thinking about his words very carefully, but ultimately failing to find something good to say.

You smirk and go through his hair, gently grabbing a handful of it. “I think you’d find it hot."

"Really?", he asks, nervously huffing.

"Mingi, didn’t I edge you all during our early twenties?”

“Baby, don’t—“

“What? Well, I thought it was hot. I remember it being really hot.”

“Those were trying times.”

“We did try a lot of things during college.”

Reminiscing and visiting your rather youthful, spry days, Mingi pushes his head deeper into your hand and smiles, having calmed down from the rather exciting idea that you would suggest something so risqué to him. How long has it been? More than ten years, wow.

"Look at us now, baby," Mingi murmurs, sub-consciously wandering up the silhouette of your body with the backside of his hands, making you rather ticklish, but in a way that goosebumps find themselves on your skin, your breath feeling lighter with each stroke of his finger-tips, "Look at you." He inhales, and then exhales, your thumb resting at his ear, "You are trying to kill me, baby..."

"Ohh, Mingi, I'm not!", you giggle, and you may not know what your husband is talking about, but through his lenses— though you would be right to assume that these lenses are painted a deep, deep red— he's seeing his wife be tempered, moderate, relaxed. If he finds you so hot when you're fuming, Mingi finds you enthralling, when your eyes are barely open, the slightest of smile decorating your lips, and an even more hidden pink daubed on your cheeks... You're his wife, Mingi repeats to himself, and in his heart grows double its size because of it.

"I love you," he murmurs, and for the moment, he doesn't even know he said that out loud, “I love you so much”, and means it more the second time.

And there you lay, on the mattress, your husband beginning to kiss you again, his hands cupping your head, your fingers interlaced in his hair. "I love you too," you whisper, and as Mingi grabs you by your back, inviting you to get your body up, you're right in the zone again.

Soft, smitten contact— it’s your lips this time to cover Mingi’s neck with kisses, down to his shoulders, his collarbones, your knee working against his crotch, arms swung behind his head.

“I want to take care of you, baby,” Mingi whispers, his thumb caressing your jawbone, as you peck away the sweat on his skin, he will need another shower. “I want to make love to you.”

You smile in awe of your husband lulling the loveliest of words into your ear, soft rustling from your sheets accompanying his voice. The room you decorated together, the home you fill, and even sooner, you'll start a family— with Mingi as a father to be proud of. Who has done so much to keep you happy.

"But sometimes I think—”

“No, baby,” you interrupt him, his voice was dropping and you know you are preventing Mingi from talking bad about himself. He feels guilty, though you've told him uncountable times that you don't feel like you're the only one under this roof.

"But—"

“Baby, no.”

"Okay... I guess I just love you, then." Mingi chuckles, when your fingernails trail down his breast, drawing a line along his muscle definition, “what did you think I was gonna say?”

“Something that’s gonna take me off my mood,” you hum, hooking yourself at his joggers. Mingi sighs, loudly, not yet relieved, but still at peace somehow.

“Make love to me, Mingi.”

A slight gasp leaves his mouth. Oh…

“Y/N… You can’t say things like that.”

With a smirk, your hand disappears in his joggers, and then in his boxers; his thick, throbbing, struggling cock slicking in your grip, as you wrap your fingers around it.

“I can, baby, and I will,” you sneer, “I thought you wanted the best for me?”

He grits his teeth, but Mingi smiles, finding himself at your service. “Am I the best?”, he asks you, leaning forwards to rest his head against your shoulder, pushing you down again.

“You’re the absolute best, Mingi.”

You slowly glide your hand up and down his length nibbling at his ear, exhaling, seducing him. “You’re the best husband,” you purr, “with the most handsome face,” kissing his temple, “and”, with your other finger hooked at the waist band of his joggers, you reveal “the best cock.”

Mingi is touched. A bit embarrassed, yes, it’s been a while since he’s heard you talk like this, but to hear from the best wife that he is deemed the best husband is the highest compliment he could have gotten. What, his face still charms you? His cock is still alluring to you? Don’t judge him, but even after ten years he will be moved by your words.

Moved.

“Come on, Mingi,” you coo, feeling your cunt pulsate between your legs, his cock twitch between your fingers; your husband gulps and, with your command, roams against your body, "let's get you to work."

Maybe he's really revisiting things from the past, after all the talk about your college endeavours, because you definitely recognise his canine teeth ever-so slightly sunken into your shoulder, as Mingi grabs you by your thighs and spreads your legs gently. Your body remembers, and his cock surely does as well, glistening in pre-cum as it is positioned at your cunt. "God, baby," Mingi grunts, and you lick over your lips in anticipation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pouts, and in an almost reverent tone, Mingi brushes away a sweaty strand of hair from your face, “you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“Not even your mom?”, you giggle, and while you think of your mother in law with utmost respect, your husband smiles, unfazed; “She’ll agree.”

And with that, Mingi is inside you, all of his length gliding into you with utmost caution; he’s driving in his pelvis unhurriedly, slow and deliberate, just so you can feel every inch of you inside expand for his girth, stretch for his entrance. "Fuck," you gutter and grab Mingi by his hair, pulling him close to you just as he begins to move, your moan coming out muffled against his lip.

"Never growing tired of it, are you?", Mingi grins into the kiss, and he's right, he's so, totally right, but your face is strained together in ecstasy, lascivious— aphrodisical to your husband. He's throbbing and he can feel how warm his own cock is, as Mingi pulls himself out of your tightness in his entirety and then, "fuck," pushes himself right back in inside you to experience it all again.

"I could never grow tired of my hubby," you chuckle and fuck, feel him, physically feel how he's getting excited about your words, something so enrapturingly hot boiling inside him; but while your personal heat ends up being your devilish little voice encouraging you to tease him, Mingi's does nothing more than to whisper him the most delicate ways of loving.

If he sucks on the spot right here at your pretty, graceful collarbone, will you sigh out an even more graceful breath? (Yes!) If he slides his tongue across your neck, just until your sensitive jaw, will you pull his hair with some type of feistiness? (Oh, god yes!) If Mingi, looking at you with sunken eyes, catches you off-guard and pistons his pelvis in at this exact moment, will you— "Fuck, baby!"

Oh, he didn't even need a voice for that one. Your husband slithers his arms under your armpits, one hand holding you by your back, the other resting on top of your head, so you don't hit the bedframe and hurt yourself, as it falls to the back with his thrust.

"Want me to say sorry?", he hums, again slowly driving himself out, knowing very well that once Mingi changes the direction, he will hit your sweet-spot again, and you shake your head rather weakly, drunken on the feeling of him filling you out.

"Good," Mingi confirms your answer, peppering kisses all around your forehead, as he quickens up his pace, breathing throughout it all. "Y/N," he sighs, you sighing with him for all the same reasons, "you feel so good."

You get used to the rhythm and let loose of the sheets, lightly scratching his skin at his waist. "You feel so good, baby," Mingi repeats himself and his eyebrows are pushed together, his grunts vibrating down your cunt. "Do you feel good, baby?"

Nodding, whispering a wispy string of a lot of 'yes'es, Mingi flashes his eye-smile and digs his face deep into the nook of your neck. He doesn't say it, because he's too busy panting, moaning, breathing out to his own thrusts, but your husband is overjoyed. You feel so tiny under his body— and maybe it's because you are, and yet the place you have reserved in his even bigger heart— which even in this moment, is beating for you and nobody else— is inexplainably huge. He wants to be yours as much as he wants you to be him, be with him, have all his life painted in your pretty colours until his canvas drivels over.

His cock is slipping in and out of you at fast speed now, your whiny moans encouraging Mingi to hold this angle since you're not stopping with it; "Are you close?", he asks and gets one arm of his out to rest his hand on the bedframe, towering over you, hair falling in front of his eyes.

"Yes, I'm close," you answer and search for another kiss, raising your hand to his cheek, Mingi immediately plunging his face into yours. He's close too, has been for a while now, but he had to get your confirmation that he was finally able to release himself into you— and then, when you nibble at his lip while a heavenly note of a moan leaves your opened mouth, Mingi's pelvis moves by itself.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," he cusses, having to install one hand at your hips so he doesn't rock you around too much, voice becoming high and needy, greed messing with the practiced way he thrusts into you, becoming sloppy and all the while passionate, chasing the speed it takes to make you feel the best and even better. His other hand slides onto your clit, and it does so by muscle memory, knowing exactly where to rub so you clench around him, scream out his name.

"I love you so much, baby, I want you so bad, and I'm— fuck," he heaves, his voice catching up with his movement, "I'm going to love you until we grow old, baby, I want to be with you until the end of our days— I," and Mingi is rambling his free mind here, his whole body, mind and soul at your service, "I want you to have me forever, Y/N."

"Mingi," you whine, and his cock doesn't stop hitting your soft-spot, your clit tingling from his thumb, making you dopey, skipping you through time, to a future where you lay with Mingi in bed at the same late hour, both heads fuming from work, trying to your steam off together now, worried that your kids will hear your words, grunting silently into each other's ears, the words being, "I'm gonna cum!"

Oh, what good days await you two, and how straight you're heading for it, too— with Mingi's breathing being cut short, coming out stuttered from how fast he's ramming himself into you, not too rough, but fluidly and ceaselessly until you are gasping for air, feeling the string be stretched further and further, pulled for release, spiralled by your husband's vigor and his panting; "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum so fucking bad, fuck!"

Mingi soaks sweatily in your words, his hair chaotic, his abs glistening from the heat of it all— you yank your hand out his mouth, your lower body curling up— "Fuck, baby!"

And with your tightened cunt Mingi lets out a deep, whole-hearted grumble, falling flat on your body, as he spasms; his hot, thick semen shot seeps through along the tip of his cock out your cunt, needing to be fucked right back into you so it doesn’t get lost on your sheets— you seeing absolute bliss, as he pistons into you one last time, eyes focused on your husband.

“Baby,” Mingi pants, and with your gazes meeting, his lips rush over to your cheek, pecking you one, two, three times— and then, on your lips one, two— no, holding one long kiss with you, his plump, rosy softness making your body melt into the mattress, as it falls deeper in slumber. “I love you,” he whispers into your kiss, tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “my baby.”

He pulls out, infamously slow, making you heave on his length even after you both finished. “Mingi,” you exhale, feeling your eyelids close by themselves, your husband slightly chuckling.

“Sorry, baby,” he says, caressing your waist and cheek, “you need anything?”

“Oh, Mingi,” you laugh; Mingi can't help himself, can he? Will always ask for your wishes, wishing to grant them, like he's some wizard, a magician, a devoted believer of your enjoyment and happiness— "You did all you could have done, baby."

"Really?"

"Come on, Mingi, you big baby, c'mere."

He huffs, a bit sulky maybe, your silly husband, getting the blanket from the bed to throw it over his shoulder and wham, over you— cuddling you in, for now ignoring that the both of you need a hot, steamy shower, just breathing in and out your presence, your sweet, dulcet presence, which caramelizes in his warmth, against his body, melting.

"Thank you for being there for me, baby," you smile, voice dampened by the blanket, but Mingi understands you just well enough.

You don't need to thank him. Mingi knows you know that. He's obsessed with you, and though you could try and say you're just as obsessed, your husband will try everything to your favour to prove otherwise.

As Mingi throws his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to his breast, making you listen to his heartbeat, beating just for you, you hear him whisper all kinds of affirmations. 'I'll never leave your side, I'll never make you feel lonely, I'll be yours forever.”

A career? A family? A happy life?

It's all waiting for you, patiently, each day and night you leave and come back home— in office clothes and a chaotic mind— watching, admiring, hoping to get the weight of responsibility off your shoulders, get you a taste of freedom, a taste of the fruits of your labour.

"Are you asleep?", he asks and you groan silently, pressing your face deeper down his armpit. "Baby..."

Mingi chuckles. You need this sleep, totally, but you also need to be cleaned up, which gives him the challenge to grab you by your leg the most gentle way he can, lift you up— and, when you lie in his embrace, head snuggled into his breast— he’s careful to not wake you up with the sounds of water splashing down his hand, as he soaps you in.

It’s difficult, this is difficult, it will all be so difficult— but Mingi, being your husband, your soul-mate, your everything, he’s putting his all on it to make it work.

(Work you up, make you work for it; until your voice is hoarse, until your body shakes, until your head is light and you can do it, all over again, the next day, evening and night.

“Happy wife, happy life!”

(Maybe Mingi embraces his new role as the father of your children too much.))

[dairyminki]

"What a pretty flower."

"Oh, I was talking about you."

CHOI SAN YOU LITTLE S- smooth talker

𝑴𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒚 𝑷𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒃𝒖𝒅𝒔

Summary: If only you knew how to look where you were flying Pairing: garden fairy!San x fem frost fairy!yn Tropes: fairy au Genre: fluff Rating: G Warnings: language but Tinkerbell-ified Word Count: 808 Note: for the Ateez Fairy collab hosted by @cultofdionysusnet

You’re so incredibly late to your duties to start the season-changing. You aren’t a wind fairy, but you fly at a speed that could rival them. As you fly, you take notice of a few blooms starting to sprout from the Earth. The garden fairies are putting their work in to make everything look pretty for the upcoming spring season. Then you see one garden fairy in particular that steals your breath away. He’s stunning, to say the least. He has the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen, and his white blonde hair stands out boldly against the dark green grass he’s surrounded by. You end up being so distracted by him that you don’t look where you’re flying. One moment you’re zipping through the air, and the next, you’re stuck in some sort of soft textured red thing.

“Oh, jingles.” you huff, trying to see if you can find you’re way out of whatever this is.

Suddenly the thing around you opens up, and you see daylight peeking in. As it opens more, you realize you flew directly into a rosebud and managed to get yourself stuck inside. You’re already embarrassed, but when you see the garden fairy that’s helping you, you think it wouldn’t be so bad if you stayed stuck inside the bud. That pretty garden fairy you were stunned by is the one who’s freeing you. You see his pretty smile alongside a deep set of dimples. His pale blonde hair pushed up and out of his face, showing sharp angles. You try to hide in your hands for a moment, hoping that it isn’t reality that he’s helping you.

“What a pretty flower.” he muses from his place on the ground.

“Yeah, yeah.” you sigh, staying sat in the now bloomed rose, “You guys are really putting a lot of effort in this year.” “Oh,” he smiles widely, almost resembling a cat, “I was talking about you.”

You feel the heat of a blush rush through your neck and your cheeks. You hold your face hoping to cool it down. The garden fairy looks amused, though. He’s still smiling brightly at you from the ground.

“You wanna come down here so I can properly introduce myself?” he offers.

You look down at the ground properly this time and realize he’s standing in a large muddy puddle, “I… don’t do mud.” you admit.

He chuckles, “It’s not that bad, see?” he giggles as he stomps down into the mud, some splashing up onto the bottom of his pants. 

You groan, “Watch out, I’m making an ice patch next to you.”

The garden fairy steps sideways and gestures for you to do as you wish. You gently move your hand and watch as the ice crystals form a patch big enough for you to stand comfortably beside him. After flying down, you grimace at the amount of mud around you. The blonde fairy has a bit on his cheek, which he likely doesn’t care about at all.

He reaches his hand out to you, they’re slightly dusted with dirt, but it’s clear he’s trying to give you a friendly gesture. You take it in yours and shake it. Shivers run up and down your spine and through your wings as you make contact with him.

“I’m San,” he smiles, “do I get the pleasure of knowing your name, pretty flower?”

“I’m y/n.” you smile back, “I’d love to stay, but… they need me over at the shift point and-”

“You’re running late,” he chuckles, “I could tell that from the moment I saw you fly into that rosebud.”

You groan again, “Yeah… do you maybe wanna fly over with me? They won’t believe me if I said I got stuck and had to let the handsome garden fairy help me…” you throw your hand over your mouth as soon as you process that you said he was handsome out loud.

San smiles at you, “I’ll go with you if-”

“If?”

“Just walk through the mud. It’s not that bad.” he giggles.

You sigh but tentatively toe into the mud just off of your ice patch. Cringing, you take a deep breath and take a step fully. San walks ahead to where the dry dirt is. The adoration is practically dripping from his eyes. He literally just met you, but he thinks he may risk it all for the pretty frost fairy in front of him. He watches as you cringe with each step. Small whines about how your pale blue and white clothing is getting covered in the dark mud. The moment you reach him, you look at him and huff an exasperated sigh at him.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, Snowdrop?” he giggles, booping your nose.

“It was horrible. Never make me walk through the mud again.” you whine.

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Tag List: @sanjoongie @jaehunnyy @ericssmile @anyamaris

[dairyminki]

“fuck, baby,” a hand swiped through your folds, gathering the almost embarrassing amount of arousal from your core. “you’re so wet.”

omfg this was such a strong opening that you alrdy had me gone just barely a second into reading 😭

say my name — song mingi

request by anon. "This is my first request to anyone ever so forgive me if this is..idk incoherent 😭. But lately I've been thinking about a short smut story where the reader (fem) being a backup dancer for ATEEZ and Mingi catching feelings for her over time and then end up fucking in the dressing room and maybe one of the members walks in idk have fun with it. 🤭"

pairing. song mingi x backup dancer!reader

genre. smut.

warnings. smut below the cut, explicit sexual content minors dni, fingering, some dirty talk, use of petnames (doll, baby), swearing, intentional lowercase.

wc. 1.2k

[ listening to . . . ] perceive by doma cyno.

　　　　　　　　　main masterlist

“fuck, baby,” a hand swiped through your folds, gathering the almost embarrassing amount of arousal from your core. “you’re so wet.”

you like to think your day started off like every other day. you woke up at 7 am, ate breakfast, got ready for the day and arrived at kq two hours later. you went through some choreographies with the other backup dancers until 4 pm, left to run some errands, and then returned to practice some more on your own.

since your first day at the company only a few months ago, you’d always take a few hours after your shift to perfect your art more than you already have. sometimes you’d spend those hours with the other dancers who showed up for the same reason, but surprisingly, a lot of the time it was mingi who found himself practising his group’s or his own choreography alongside you.

the first few times felt awkward, to say the least.

you yourself weren’t really one to strike up conversations with random people, and considering he was part of the group you had to dance for, you were afraid of slipping up and losing your job. but, eventually, he talked to you. after that, things were easier—you’d joke around, take breaks to go eat something, help each other and sometimes even stop what you were working on to choreograph something together; just the two of you.

it was only a month or two later that you caught yourself looking at him in a less than friendly but rather heated way… and much to your surprise, you slowly started noticing his own lustful glances—lips red from biting them and hooded eyes tracking your every movement. but, alas, you weren’t one for first moves.

considering all of this, you weren’t surprised at the position you were currently in; on the floor of the practice room, legs hooked around his as you sat between them, mingi’s lips against the side of your neck, one arm around your waist and the other with his hand inside your panties (your shorts had been discarded long ago, along with his shirt) as he faced you to lthe mirror, forcing you to watch his every movement.

he swiped his middle finger through your folds, gathering some arousal and then slowly circling your swollen clit. a breathy whimper escaped your lips as you threw your head back on his shoulder. the combined sensation of his finger around your nub and his lips kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin of your neck sent another wave of wetness gushing out of you.

“eyes on the mirror, doll,” he moved his head up to whisper right into your ear with that husky voice of his, gently biting down on your earlobe. he removed his hand from your pussy for a moment, letting your legs down to slip your panties off before hooking them over his thighs again. you were practically dripping as he exposed you. “i want you to see what i’m doing, watch how your beautiful little body reacts to me.”

reluctantly, you nodded and pulled yourself off his shoulder, eyes zeroing in on the arousal smeared between your thighs. a moan escaped your lips as he gave your clit a particularly firm tug, his ring and middle finger pressed against the skin on either side of it and pinching gently. you tried holding back your following moans, but the quiver of your thighs gave you away. though, you felt better knowing you weren’t the only enjoying this so much, his erection strained against his pants and poked at your ass. 

his movements against your heat were slow but precise, eliciting pretty little whimpers and moans from you. the hand wrapped around the front of your waist moved up, featherlight touches leaving a trail of goosebumps behind as he gently brushes his fingers over the fabric of your bra. then he nudge the straps down your shoulder and let the bra cups fall, his hand immediately going to tweak at your nipples. 

“f-fuck…” you cursed quietly, trying your best to stop your eyes from fluttering shirt from all the pleasure and keep your eyes on the mirror as he asked.

two of his large fingers circled your entrance, massaging it before slowly pushing in. jaw slack at the stinging stretch, you watched as they disappeared into your vagina, breath stuttering when he curved them just enough to brush against the right spot. your hand snaked it’s way behind his head, tugging on his hair gently.

“oh, look, doll,” you heard him groan behind you, feeling his smirk against your neck, “look at how well you take my fingers…”

and with that he slowly began pumping his fingers in and out of you, digits firmly pressing against the spongey spot inside you each time, increasing his speed more and more as his thumb continue circling your clit. he watched your face in the mirror, analysing each twitch of your muscles and each flutter of your lashes to perfectly adjust his movements. in any other context, you perhaps would’ve appreciated how perceptive he was. but right now you wanted nothing more than to savour the feeling of his fingers, anticipating how his cock would feel in you. 

before you knew it, the familiar knot of an orgasm began tightening in your abdomen, your body squirming.

“shit, mingi…” his name tumbled out of your mouth in a drawl and his movement stopped for a moment.l before he continued at a more rigorous pace. you could’ve sworn you felt his erection twitch behind you. 

“say that again,” he growled, “say my name.”

the rough scratch of his voice made you impossibly wetter as you obeyed quickly. “mingi, o-oh…”

after that it didn’t take much longer for you to snap, coming down hard on his fingers, muscles jerking and back arching as his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your noises.

“keep it down, baby, someone might walk in and see you at my mercy.”

he pulled his fingers out of you and caressed your thighs. it didn’t take to long for you to calm down from your high, chest heaving with deep breaths as he whispered praises in your ear. despite the fact you just had an orgasm, you knew you still wanted more.

“i-i need… i need you,” you tried, face flushed as you hinted the best you could.

“hm?” he chuckled. “and what exactly do you need of me?”

with a huff, you grinded yourself back against him, against his cock, but he moved his hands to grip your hips firmly and stop you. 

“that won’t do,” he shook his head. “i want you to use your words, doll. can you do that for me, baby?”

a moment of silence passed between you. it was awkward or anything, a teasing grin on his face as he looked you in the eyes through the mirror, your brows furrowed before you sighed.

“god, mingi, i need your cock in me.”

he grinned, hands tugging your shirt and bra off before sitting back on his knees and turning you around. mingi leaned over you, cupping your chin before kissing you with a bruising hardness. once he broke the kiss, a malicious spark shined in his sharp eyes.

“anything for my doll.”

　　[ lilo's notes ... ] i'm back!! this is the first request i've received, hopefully i did it justice. by the time i finished writing i forgot that anonie asked it it's possible for another member to walk in and join.... sorry about that. but anywhomst, i hope you all enjoyed this!!

　　[ network ... ] @cromernet

[dairyminki]

I CRIED 😭😭😭 THIS WAS SO GOOD OMG

infinity

Word count: 4.3k

Pairing: San x reader

Warnings: soulmate!au, reincarnation!au, angst, fluff

Summary: San loves you, he will always love you, will always wait for you, no matter how long it takes.

A/N: Fic is purely based off of a lyric from the song Infinity by Jaymes Young: Oh, darling, my soul you know it aches for yours, and you've been filling this hole since you were born. I would highly recommend listening to it if you haven’t it’s such a beautiful song. You can also find other things I’ve written right here

He remembers. Every life he remembers. You’re always at the forefront of his mind once he’s old enough to develop a coherent thought, no matter how young he is he’s always able to recognize the emptiness in his soul, a hole only you can fill. The burden of remembering becomes so heavy, weighs on his ageless soul, life after life, decade after decade, century after century he remembers it all. The lives he lives where he doesn’t find you get buried in the back of his mind, all meaningless and unnecessary for his aching soul.

The lives he lives where you stumble into each other, those are what fill his head in the night as he wanders off to sleep. He always hopes to find you, wishes for you endlessly, because the pain he feels after a lifetime without you by his side is enough to prepare him for death.

San remembers the first time he found you. You were both children, and your family had moved into his village. Your father was a baker, opening up his own shop as a way to make ends meet. Your mother had been a seamstress until you came along, then she spent all her days doting on her only daughter, keeping a watchful eye over you because she loved you so much. He couldn’t blame her, the minute he laid eyes on you he too fell in love. It was a peculiar feeling for him, only being seven years old when his eyes met yours for the first time, but he knew at his young and tender age that it meant something.

He had run up to you immediately, eyes bright and smile wide as you hid behind the skirts of your mother’s dress. He introduced himself, trying to speak as eloquently as his father had taught him to, especially since he was trying to impress you. Your mother thought him a funny little thing, and entertained his introduction. From that point on San was always looking for you, always trying to spend time with you or even your family. He loved you so much his heart would ache when he was away from you, even when you were only a few houses away and he’d see you the next day.

When he was twelve he marched into your fathers bakery, stared him in his eyes and asked for your hand in marriage. The amusement had been clear on his features and he told him that he would have to wait, as you were only ten at the time and of course the both of you were far too young for marriage. It had saddened him but he understood. In due time he would have your hand in marriage.

That first life with you had been one of bliss. He remembers it fondly and it’s always the memories from that life that take precedence in his mind when it wanders. You were the reason why he kept coming back. Living life was so difficult, and he was always so comfortable floating in the aether, watching life unfold from up above. Yet, he never stayed long, opting to go back to life just to meet you all over again. For decades he was able to make your acquaintance, you never looked the same but he always knew it was you. He knew the way your soul felt, had etched himself in it all those years ago, you were his and he was yours. It didn’t matter what you looked like, nor what gender you were, he never cared about your physical appearance all he cared about was that he found you.

Until he lived the life where you never showed up. San had waited every single day for you, growing more and more anxious as years passed and he still hadn’t found you. He had become so distraught, so overwhelmed with despair that he paid nothing else any mind, just focused on where you were. He spent that life wasting away, every night he’d cry and wondered what he had done to deserve this. Had he been too greedy? To enjoy all those decades with you without another thought? Was he being punished for not appreciating you enough? He had no clue what he had done wrong, but on his deathbed, surrounded by no one in an empty house, he promised he would find you again and never take you for granted.

Whoever it was that manufactured his soul, whether that be God or the universe itself, must have thought this to be such a funny concept. Life after life came and he could not find you, his soulmate. He would search for you, far and wide driving himself near insanity every single time. At the end he was always alone, heart broken and soul mourning for the love he could not find.

After so long trying to find you and ultimately failing, he decided not to live life for a while. He stayed in the heavens up above floating around in nothingness as he let time pass through him. There was always the worry that he was missing you, missing his chance to be with you when he wasn’t on earth. Yet, after all those decades went by without him finding you, he found his soul was so tired, ready for rest and to just be bodiless, if not for a moment. A break is what he needed. Yet, the yearning for you was too much and eventually he went right back to try and find you.

In the next life he did, but you were far older than he was with a spouse and two kids. Your life was already set, and who was he, a teenager at the time, to try and take that away from you. He remembers how his soul lit aflame when he realized you were in his vicinity. It took everything in him to not run to find you, instead he calmed himself and searched for you slowly, only to find you with a spouse at your side and a ring on your finger. The pain that filled his body was immense. He remembers how he fell to the ground, footsteps had approached him quickly, it was your voice that called out to him, asking if he was okay. He had gazed into your worried eyes before his consciousness faded to black.

When he awoke in the hospital he was disoriented beyond belief. The last thing he recalled was your voice, stricken with worry as you called out to him. Now though, you were nowhere to be found. He was alone. He didn’t know what was worse, to never find you at all or to find you with someone that wasn’t him. He chooses to forget this life as often as he can, not proud to say that he ended it shortly thereafter, the grief just a bit too overwhelming for him.

The lives he lived afterwards fared no better, as he would always stumble upon you but he was always too late or too early. Sometimes you were far older than him, other times you were way too young for him. In all those lives you would end up with someone who would suit your age much better than he ever could. For a while he stayed lonely, letting himself dream of you without ever being able to have you. Eventually though, the loneliness became suffocating and he could no longer stand to die with no one else by his side.

So, he found love. In the lives he could not call you his, he searched for companionship elsewhere. These people were never really replacements, they could never love him the way you could and he could never give them all of himself the way he did with you. But, he did love them, maybe not as much as he loved you but he still loved them all. These people who came into his life, brought him comfort and accepted him, flaws and all, they meant something to him. No longer was he dying alone, rather he would die with the ones who loved him surrounding him, his spouse and his children and all the friends he made along the way. This helped to ease his weary soul, he knew these people loved him, they just weren’t you. On all his deathbeds you were always the last one he thought of before his being faded into nothingness and yet again he became a soul without a body.

He wasn’t searching for you in this life, he had finally accepted that if you were meant to be his then you would be, and if not then he would try again. He was a young man now, in college with his whole life ahead of him. Thus far this life had been kind to him, he had loving parents and had been awarded opportunities that could only be dreamed of. He was happy.

San was on his way to a cafe near his apartment, a light drizzle of rain coming down had him rushing to get there. The air had grown cold and he cursed himself for not checking the weather before he left. He was grateful for the rush of warm air that hit him as he opened the door to the cafe, the smell of coffee and baked goods filling his senses and bettering his mood. He approached the counter, ordered and then found a spot to sit near the window, setting his backpack in the seat across from him, it was simply a placeholder until Wooyoung came. He knew that he should get started on his work, but he was much more content with watching the rain as it increased. The slight drizzle he walked in was quickly turning into a full on storm. He felt his phone buzz and saw that Woo was canceling on him due to the rain. San sighed, and got up to receive his order. Once he sat back down he looked out the window again, watching as a hooded figure ran as fast as they could to the cafe. The stranger bursted in, out of breath and soaking wet, and that’s when San felt it.

The stranger was you, he knew it the moment you stepped in, could feel it in the way his heart rate picked up. He watched as you took off your coat and spoke your order to the barista, and he wondered if you could feel it too, or if you were simply too distracted to realize the change in the atmosphere. In all the other lives he knew you could feel it, would always see it in your eyes when you looked at him with slight recognition, as if you had always known him. Even when you two couldn’t be together you looked at him like you knew him, and it was he who would have to remind you that you were made for each other, and that’s when it would click. He wonders when you would see him and just know that he was yours as soon as he knew when he saw you.

Your eyes wandered around the cafe, trying to find a place to sit when your eyes met his. He could feel it, deep inside of him, his soul threatening to escape him just to intertwine with yours. It had been so long, too long in fact. A smile graced his face as he beckoned you to sit across from him, he too stood up in order to lay his backpack on the floor. And when you sat across from him you stared at him in confusion.

“I’m sorry, have we met before? You seem so familiar,” you say. You ask this every time, and he never knows how to answer. So he just chuckles and takes a sip from his coffee. He takes in the features of your face and immediately thinks that you’re simply the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, of course he thinks this every life but it’s true. Your beauty astounds him, and he can’t wait to get to know this version of you.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“(y/n),” you answer, “and yours?”

“San, it’s nice to meet you (y/n),” he likes the way your name feels on his tongue, to be quite frank he just likes you in general.

“Ahh so I guess we haven’t met before,” you chuckle to yourself, “I’m sorry about that. I must seem so strange just coming up to you like this,” he can sense your embarrassment, sees it in the way you fiddle with your hands.

“No no it’s okay. We have met before, just… not in this life,” you give him a puzzled look.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Hmm it’s a bit much to explain if I’m being honest. Do you have some time on your hands or…”

“No yeah, tell me what you mean I really want to know,”.

And so he does, he tells you everything, sparing the parts where he ends up heartbroken without you. There’s no need to make you feel guilty for the things you can’t control. He watches as your eyes light up with recognition, you never remember the past lives and he doesn’t expect you to anymore, but this recognition isn’t for that. You’re finally able to place the feeling of why you know him, how when you saw him you finally felt full, without ever knowing you were empty in the first place. The more he talks, the more you gravitate towards him, hand reaching out for him bashfully, but when he takes your hand in his you feel the tension leave your body.

You both hear the ping that comes from your phone, and you check it quickly, a frown upon your face as you take your hand away from San in a flash. He tries to hide the disappointment in his features as you do so, already knowing why you would retreat from him.

“Is something wrong (y/n),” he asks you.

You bite your bottom lip before responding, eyes cast downwards to the table when you say, “no, that was just my boyfriend,” and at the last word you cringe.

“Mmm, I see…” he’s not surprised that you have a boyfriend, everything about you is so wonderful, and he knows this based on centuries of knowing you.

“Do you love him?” he asks. You nod reluctantly.

“Does he treat you well?” and to this you say a very quiet yes.

San takes your hand in his once more, forcing you to look him in his eyes, “it’s okay (y/n), all I want, all I’ve ever wanted, is for you to be happy. I can always find you in the next life, okay?” He takes his hand and brushes your cheek gently. Your skin is soft and warm under his palm, and although you’re still right in front of him, he misses you terribly. He doesn’t want to make your life difficult, he doesn’t want to make you choose. Even though he hasn’t been with you for so long it doesn’t matter to him if you feel like you can be happier with someone else, your happiness has always come before his own and he’ll choose you over himself any day.

He moves to leave, giving your hand a comforting squeeze before he slings his backpack over his shoulder. By some miracle the rain has stopped, but he has no doubt it’ll start back up again with how grey the skies look. You look at him with sadness in your eyes, but he musters up enough energy to give you a dimpled smile.

“Will I see you again?” you ask him.

“Maybe,” he responds, yet he hopes he won’t have to see you again, at least not in the arms of another, not again. He leans down to place a kiss on your forehead before turning away and leaving the cafe. He’ll never go in there again, which is such a shame because he really liked their coffee.

You, on the other hand, have to sit and stew on what to do with the information you’ve been given. You can remember, the little glimmers of the past that he was talking about, it wasn’t clear but it was familiar. The connection you felt with San upon first sight was far too strong to just be some crazy coincidence. Not one to be overly romantic, you had always thought the saying “love at first sight” was a cheesy little phrase, now you’re not so sure. Of course you weren’t in love with San, but there was something deep inside of you that desperately wanted to be.

The feeling of longing was present within you for weeks afterwards, it was starting to become noticeable within your relationship with Yeosang. He was patient with you, kind in every way, and as soon as he noticed the distance he allowed you the space you needed but was also so reassuring. It was conflicting and you felt guilty. Guilty towards Yeosang because he deserves someone who loves him wholly and unconditionally, without a single doubt there. But you also felt guilty for San, who was someone you were destined to be with, and not being with him now felt like robbing him of happiness, and you were sure he didn’t deserve that.

Although you knew that you should have avoided the cafe like the plague, you still kept going. You were hoping to see him again, to be able to talk to him, yet he never came. You always sat at the same table you spoke to on your first meeting, you would face the window and watch every passerby just hoping they were him. Even this action felt wrong, and when you would go home at night you’d feel the guilt settle like a rock in your stomach, it was made worse when Yeosang was waiting for you, greeting you with his smile.

You lost track of the time that passed between your first meetup with San to now, the longing hadn’t gone away completely but it had faded somewhat. There were still plenty of nights where you wished things had been different but they were only thoughts that you could never act on. As the semester was drawing to a close you had resolved yourself to the idea that you would never see him again. You were graduating soon so the likelihood of seeing him again was so low that you just had to accept that you wouldn’t be together in this life. Besides, you were happy with Yeosang, or at least as happy as you could be given the circumstances. You would live the life you were supposed to, get married to him, have children, have a career, and that would be that.

When you see San again it catches you completely off guard. You felt him before you saw him and when you looked up to find him holding hands with another girl the feeling of dread washed over you completely. You had decided to study for your finals in a park near your apartment, wanting a change of scenery and with the weather being so nice it only made sense to spend your time outside. Yeosang was too busy to accompany you which was fine, you enjoyed your time alone. From where you were sitting you could see how close they were, he was speaking to her avidly and his smile was so wide you had no doubt that his dimple was there too. Seeing him with someone who wasn’t you left you with a bitter taste in your mouth, which you were aware made no sense. Technically, you didn’t really know San in this life, had only ever spoken to him once. Therefore, the jealousy that you feel at the moment is completely unwarranted and yet you can’t help it. You wonder if he can even sense you, or if he’s just too enamored with this other girl to pay you any mind. You can’t tear your eyes away from them and you watch as she giggles when he places a kiss against her head.

It’s only when he backs away from her when he sees you. You fill with embarrassment when his eyes meet yours, but you don’t look away from him, you find that you can’t. He’s the first to look away as he walks away with the girl’s hand still in his. You don’t move from your spot, in fact you find it difficult to do anything except stare at the same place they were once in. It pains you to see him happy with someone else, and you understand how he must have felt at hearing that you had a boyfriend of your own. This doesn’t feel right, you know that the two of you belong together, and you refuse to let him slip from between your fingers.

You pack your things in your bag as quickly as you can as you head towards the direction they went. Somehow, someway, you lost them and now you’re looking around the park seemingly insane to everyone around you. The embarrassment soons becomes much larger than your desperation and you force yourself to calm down. He’s nowhere to be found and it fills you with panic until you feel a hand close around your forearm.

“(y/n)?” San’s voice comes out worried and when you turn around to face him, his eyebrows are drawn together.

Now that he’s in front of you, you’re not sure what you’re supposed to say. ``Oh hey I’ve been thinking about you nonstop since you first spoke to me,’ ‘It should be me you’re holding hands with instead of her,’ ‘I’d leave Yeosang in a heartbeat for you if you asked me to,’. But you don’t say any of those things, not when you see the girl he’s with standing just a few feet away from you. She looks so nice and sweet and when you catch her eye she gives a warm smile. You can see why he’s with her.

“A-a-are you happy with her?” you ask him.

He blinks at you a few times before answering, “yes,”.

“Does she treat you well?”

He nods.

“Do you love her?” your breath catches in your throat as he softly tells you yes, he does love her.

You look away from him for a moment, sadness swirling inside of you as tears threaten to leave your eyes. You take a moment before catching your breath and looking at him again.

“I want you to be happy San,” you try to keep your voice steady, but it wobbles a bit as you say his name, “I promise to find you in the next life, okay? I promise to remember,”. The smile he gives you is a sad one, and you’re sure it’s because you never remember him first, but you will, you know you will. He reaches for your hand, giving you a reassuring squeeze sparing you one last smile before he leaves you.

That day was the last you’ve ever seen San again. The ache you feel inside dulls with each passing day, sometimes you mourn what could’ve been but you know that you made the right choice. You had already found your happiness with Yeosang, and San had found his happiness with the girl in the park. The two of you could’ve been together, could have left everything else behind just to be with each other, but that didn’t feel right. Neither of you wanted to hurt your partners just to be together, they deserved better than that. Truthfully, if the two of you were meant to be together in this life then things would’ve turned out differently.

You got the life you wanted, married Yeosang, had children and had a career you loved. When you laid on your deathbed you were surrounded by those who loved you, and you appreciated this life for what it gave you and the lessons it taught you. Before your final breath you remember his smile, and you tell yourself that you’ll keep your promise to him. You will find him.

The day is clear, the sun shining bright as you enjoy the warm air on your skin. You had begged your mom to take you to the playground, you were relentless with your begging until she finally caved. Hand in hand you walked together and you asked her to swing you on the swing. It felt like you were flying as she swung you higher and higher, until she got tired and decided to sit on one of the playground benches. You were nine, filled with life, the whole world ahead of you as imagination struck in your mind. Surprisingly the playground was fairly empty, but that was okay because you never minded being alone. You had just gone down the slide when you felt something so weird inside of you. You held your small hand to your chest and looked around confused until you saw him.

He was following closely behind his own mom, hiding behind her jean clad legs as they approached the playground. You ran up to them immediately, introducing yourself to his mom as eloquently as you could, just like how your dad taught you. You reached behind her and grabbed his little arm, you were so excited that you had found him, you had kept your promise.

He introduced himself to you shyly, telling you that he was seven. Something about this situation felt oddly… familiar, but you brushed off the feeling of deja vu as you dragged him to the playground.

“See I told you I would find you! I kept my promise!” he looks at you confused, eyebrows drawing together.

“Do you remember me?” He shakes his head no, and sadness flits across your features for only a moment until you regain your composure once more.

“That’s okay, you wanna know why?” His response is to tilt his head to the side, waiting for your answer.

“Because, I’ll love you for infinity,”.

[dairyminki]

wahhhhh this was so fluffy! (and i'm a sucker for fluff :3) they way you use words and weave it into one fic is immaculate 😭 i loved this, tysm!! 💕

Dream Christmas present for @dairyminki | Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Pairing: San x gn!reader Word Count: 1.6k Genre: Fluff Warnings: None A/n: This ended up being longer than I intended. I guess I focused more on reuniting than sharing a bed, but I hope I got the spirit of your request across while accidentally turning it into a fluffy soulmate drabble. ost: When I’m With You - Slander + Synymata tags: @hopexclouds @wooyoungsbae @yunhoflrtz @yungisstar1117 @jenossslut @yunhomocide @yunkiwii @nymeriaaa @troy-on-sea @hjsraccoon @dazzling-lightzzz @sanraes @baguette-atiny @strawberryjoongiee @wooyoung-a @mongsangga (please message me to be added/removed from this list at any time)

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[my life is better when i’m with you]

Your travel agent didn’t even tell you they had screwed up your reservation until you were about to board the plane. Somehow they had accidentally booked you a room with only one bed, but one roommate. Sharing a bed with a stranger? Not something you thought you’d be doing, but you’d do anything to see this concert. Your life savings was poured into the tickets, the flight, the hotel… there was no cancelling now. Push comes to shove, you’d just sleep on the floor if this person was a creep. This band had been one of your favorites since you were a child, thanks to the boy down the street.

Choi San irritated you at first, always bothering you to play with him when you clearly wanted to be left alone with your toys. But persistent as he was, he began to grow on you until you were inseparable. You shared everything… toys, clothes, food, sometimes even thoughts. When you had gotten old enough to start developing a true taste in music, San was the first person to introduce you to all the songs that defined your late childhood. You both vowed that you would see this band together one day, but you hadn’t heard from San in years. After your parents divorced and you were forced to move away, you always longed for home… longed to see San one more time so you could have your proper goodbyes.

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