#if you want to be on the taglist for this i have one!! just send me a dm/ask

[kikidoul]

── FIRST TIME.

໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა 이희승 x fem! reader content established relationship non-idol au ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content petnames used soft dom! hee fingering pussy eating protected sex (amazing!) aftercare because bro's an angel tbh i think this is kinda soft and vanilla . . .!? 1565 — mlist. req

note. sorry if this sucks... kinda running low on motivation to write whoops. taglist. @tfwbluu

To say you were nervous would be an understatement. Your breath hitched in your throat, tilting your head back as Heeseung trailed butterfly kisses down the expanse of your neck. Your eyelids threatened to flutter shut, a pleased sigh escaping your lips when his hands pushed the oversized shirt you were wearing—his shirt, to be more specific, up and up until they were bunched up, resting just above your breasts. 

“You’re so beautiful, angel. I can’t believe you’re mine,” your boyfriend murmured, voice an octave lower—sending shivers down your spine. The way you shivered didn’t go unnoticed by him. Instead, he smirked against your unblemished skin. 

“Hee!” You gasped when he gently nipped a certain part of your neck, making you squirm underneath him. You involuntarily whimpered as he sucked, leaving a hickey—a physical mark, to show that you were claimed for. That no one else can have you. No one else but him and only him. 

Heeseung hummed, hands tracing the outline of your silhouette before doing the same to the hem of your panties. You weren’t sure why, but you felt warmer than usual. Perhaps it has something to do with your boyfriend. He detached his lips from your neck, leaning back a little to admire his handiwork. 

“Hee, please…” You begged, feeling shy as you were the receiving end of his gaze. 

“Please what, sweetheart? You need to tell me or I won’t know what you want,” he coos, a sly smirk on his face as he teasingly hooked his fingers through the sides of your flimsy panties, tugging them and letting it go, chuckling at how you yelped. 

“Please touch me?” You pleaded oh so prettily, batting your eyelashes at him with your lips curling down, pouting. Heeseung’s mind spun, your words sending heat straight down to his pants that had tightened. 

“Fuck, you know I’ll do anything you want,” he groaned, wasting no time in tugging down the final obstacle that’s preventing him from reaching his final destination and tossed it to the floor. 

To Heeseung, your current state was something straight out of a cliche pornographic movie. Your eyes were slightly dazed, one hand gripping onto the pillow while the other was resting on your side—unsure of where to place it. Your lips were swollen and bruised, along with an evident hickey on your neck. You might disagree but Heeseung believes you’re more gorgeous than you already are. 

He shifted down until he was laying on his stomach, running his hands along your thighs. He leaned in, glancing up to see you were watching him with bated breath. Heeseung blew hot air at your clit, chuckling at how your legs spasmed at the brief sensation. He held you down, thumbs drawing circles on the skin of your inner thighs. 

“Darling, use the safeword if it gets too much, alright?” He asks, waiting until you give him a verbal response. 

“A-Alright,” you stuttered. 

The moment you felt Heeseung’s mouth on your clit, your mind blanked out. Your back arched off the bed, lips parting to form an ‘O’ shape. The way he ate you out felt like you were being devoured from the inside. Flattening his tongue, he gave a slow lick up your folds, groaning when you blindly grabbed onto his hair to ground yourself. You cried out at the sensation that traveled through your body. 

Heeseung then licked and sucked your puffy folds, tightening his grip on your inner thighs when they instinctively closed. He gave kitten licks to your clit, swirling it around with the tip of his tongue. His action was rewarded with a high-pitched moan that was ripped from the depth of your throat. 

“Oh god, fuck, Hee!” You cried out, floating on nothing but pure pleasure that your boyfriend was giving you.

“You taste so good, princess. Could stay between your legs forever,” he moaned, able to get drunk on the heavenly taste you had to offer. 

Heeseung removed his left hand, parting your folds with his thumbs to slide his index finger in. He swore he nearly cum right there and then when he felt how your walls instantly clenched down on his finger. 

“You’re so tight,” he breathed out, observing your reaction as he twisted his finger in just the right angle, grinning when you visibly flinched. “Need to prep you so you could take my cock, angel. You want that, hm? You want to be a good girl and take my cock?” 

You frantically nodded your head, turning your head to the side to hide a part of your face in the pillow. You couldn’t help but buckle your hips forward and thankfully, Heeseung got the hint. He dived in for the second round, plunging his tongue in and with the double penetratration, you were having trouble breathing. Your stomach tightened and you tried to warn him, but it was hard to muster your voice and you fell apart, thanks to his skillful tongue. 

Heeseung didn’t pull away. Instead, he greedily accepted what you had to offer and just because this was your first time, he moved away. Your face turned as red as a tomato when you saw the bottom half of his face covered in your slick, glistening underneath the light. He wiped them away with the back of his hand, bringing his fingers to his lips to lick them clean, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. 

It was a lewd sight, to say the least. And it was embarrassing with how you clenched down on nothing but thin air, the urge to be stuffed full rises. Heeseung grins, pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the sheets. 

“Do you want to continue?” He asks, concerned but his eyes couldn’t hold back the desire to take you right there and then. 

You nodded, reaching out to rest your hands on his shoulders as he hovered over you. “Y-Yes, please. Need you in me.” 

Heeseung groaned, nodding and doing quick work of his clothes, throwing them to the floor without caring where they landed. He grabbed a condom, wrapping it on his cock and positioned himself between your legs. 

“Remember, use the safeword if you want me to stop,” he warned. 

You nodded, and Heeseung slowly pushed in. Your breath hitched, head tilting back at the heavenly feeling of him splitting you open on his cock. Heeseung breathlessly exhaled, having to control himself when he felt your gummy walls clung onto him with no mercy, afraid of letting him go. He eventually bottomed out—using your slick as lube and you were nearly gone, drunk on the feeling of you being split apart. 

“Angel, can I move? God, you feel so good,” he moaned, hands resting on your hips. 

“P-Please, Hee. Please move,” you whined and he obeyed, pulling out a little and thrusted his hips. The way his cock smoothly slid back in made you moaned, digging your nails into the sheets and pillow. 

“Fuck, you’re still so tight,” he breathed out, increasing his pace when you didn’t made any complaints, eyes focused on your facial expression. 

“H-Hee, s-so good—hah,” you panted, unable to focus on anything else but the intoxicating feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you, practically molding your insides to the shape of his cock. 

He groaned when your walls spams and contract at every rock of his hips. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a frantic, clumsy kiss as he swallowed your noises. This way, Heeseung could get a clearer look at the effect he has on you. That no one else would be able to do to you. You mewled, raising your hands to wrap them around his neck, pushing your chest up against his as you felt the familiar tightening of your stomach. 

“H-Hee, go-gonna cum,” you mewled against his lips, your hot breath grazing his skin. 

“Yeah? You wanna cum, pretty girl?” He coos and you nodded your head at the speed of light. 

“Then cum for me. I want to see you.” 

At his demand, you tipped over the edge. Stars exploded in your vision and you nearly blacked out from the intensity of your climax. Heeseung followed suit seconds after, spilling inside the condom but you could feel the warmth of his cum, making you wish he didn’t use the condom instead. You laid on the bed, panting to catch your breath while your boyfriend pulled out slowly, tying the used condom and tossed it into the bin with great accuracy. He busied himself by taking care of you—wiping you clean with a damp towel, changing the sheets, pouring you a glass of water and helping you wear a clean shirt. 

By the time he was done, Heeseung was on the edge of falling asleep. He laid down on the bed and you immediately snuggled against him. Chuckling, he drowsily wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head, bringing you close to his chest. 

“How do you feel?” He murmured. 

“I feel fine, thanks to you,” you whispered, yawning and Heeseung’s heart tightened at the adorable sight. 

“Get some sleep, angel. We can order in for dinner later,” he brushed his hand through your hair. You made a noise of acknowledgment, passing out in the span of three seconds and soon after, Heeseung joined you in the land of dreams. 

[heeaara]

FOR YOU, i WOULD ✴︎⠀ ( 정원의 남자친구 ) 𓈒𓈒 ╰—hand in hand, you & me. today, tomorrow, forever.

𝒥 ｡｡ bf ━ yang jungwon + 𝑓.reader ⟡ wc650, cw 𓂃 relationship, skinship, petnames, headcanons ? overall fluff ♡ .

ARA's NOTE : second post on blr, lets goo. took a little layout inspo from my one & only IT GiRL @flwrstqr. dani ilysm TT. also, this fic is mainly dedicated to my one & only jungwon girl @vmpivory. hope y'all enjoy reading it TT.

BOYFRiEND JUNGWON ━ who would always give you forehead kisses for every chance he gets. Forehead kisses is his way of showing pure affection and adoration towards you, His forehead kisses gave you a feeling of protectiveness. Because, let's be honest, a forehead kiss isn't just a kiss, its a promise. And, you knew yang jungwon wasn't the one who broke promises, he keeps them like an oath.

BOYFRiEND JUNGWON ━ who gives you butterflies even with the smallest gestures. He never fails to make you flustered with his cutest smiles, and not to mention, his compliments always had your heartbeat at the fastest speeds. He knew the kind of impact he had on you and he utterly loved it, he loved how your cheeks would turn red even at the slightest and smallest accolade. 

BOYFRiEND JUNGWON ━ who would absolutely turn into a baby for your attention. He loved being pampered by you, and it wasn't like you hated it. You loved it when he would turn into a little fluff ball and being all sulky, craving your attention. You loved the way he would use his boba eyes to manipulate you, not that you hated it, you wanted to actually hide him inside your pocket, that's how cute and irresistible he was. 

BOYFRiEND JUNGWON ━ who would always boop your nose whenever he wants to annoy you because he loved seeing his girlfriend being all pouty. You secretly loved it when he did that, it was something, actually ━ a kind of a gesture of pure love and tease. It was the kind of motion only you two understood only. It was his way of telling you that he treasured you and his unbounded love for you.

BOYFRiEND JUNGWON ━ who wouldn't even go a day without cuddling with you. To be accurate, you were like his teddy bear without whom he couldn't sleep a night. Cuddles with you were his favorite thing. Having the both of you tangled with each other, having to have you in his arms was like a beautiful dream from which he would never want to wake up from. 

BOYFRiEND JUNGWON ━ who loves surprising you with planning and taking you to small, cute dates. Like going on a spontaneous hike, trying new foods, or exploring new places together. As well as, he would take you to small ice cream dates considering how much you loved and were obsessed with ice cream. He loves spending time with you.

BOYFRiEND JUNGWON ━ who would totally destroy the whole damn world if something happens or something bothers his girl. He indeed was the cutest and with the kindest heart but when it came to his loved ones, he would actually turn into a monster to protect them. He had a protective nature and you always felt safe with him.

BOYFRiEND JUNGWON ━ who would give you the best acts of services. From holding your bag or carrying your heels to letting him do the dishes or cook the meal for the night. One of his actions that showed how he loved and cared for you.

BOYFRiEND JUNGWON ━ who would send you small, cute texts throughout the day to check up on you. You loved it when he did that. Whenever you both are away from each other, his texts are the only thing that keeps you motivated and you loved the way it would lighten up your mood or distract you from the biggest of stresses. You knew, he was always there for you.

BOYFRiEND JUNGWON ━ who would love you for who you are, always, and forever.

TAGLiST : @haerinheartss @flufflights @vmpivory @manaah02 @sugarikiz ( imk if u want me to add you to my taglist ).

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem pt. four (JYH x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

PAIRING: rich!yunho x afab!rich!reader.

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 24.1k.

WARNINGS & TAGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, dual pov (both yunho's and reader's), use of fem pronouns sometimes, angsty angst that angsts in the form a verbal fight, tears, unresolved feelings and denial, tension, a heartfelt conversations with bro and lots of yearning!, a time jump (three months or so), mingi and love being unhelpful but helpful at the same time, yeosang being a cutie pie and a little bit of his story gets mentioned!, the L word, confessions, apologies, mentions of body dysmorphia and body related insecurities, soft!dom yunho (he's a little bossy), switch!reader (oc hates to let him win i guess), reader has breasts and a vagina, mirror play, teasing, light choking, messy kisses and makeouts, masturbation (f), just the tiniest bit of voyeurism, praise kink if you squint oh my god, fingering, multiple orgasms, love making (who else cried), the post-sex convo and more feelings and dreams are discussed.

NOTES: hi everyone! WE MADE IT!!!!! here's part four of this mini series that is PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH. after this, there's an epilogue/little part five to let everyone know sort of what happens after this + to set up the next story in the universe. i also just want to adress that one of you kindly suggested to change up some of the terminology i use in the warnings and for some other things in the fic itself and i thank that person a lot! but i also want to encourage you, if you feel something's missing or if i can do anything to be more inclusive in my stories, to let me know! i hope you all enjoy it part four of mbc, we've come a looong way and i'm happy on how this turned out. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: february 2nd 2025.

taglist: @kyunlov, @tinyelfperson, @0115degrees, @daniela-f-uwu, @ultrapinkvoidbouquet, @kyeomooniee, @fairylover68, @sushiinmidnight, @qveenbunni, @calmoistorm, @potatomountain, @svintsandghosts, @lemonkait00, @blue5ummer, @fancypeacepersona, @hyukssunflower, @i-love-ateez, @alsomimi, @e3ellie, @st3ft0n3s, @hotteokkay, @xylatox

masterlist - part one - part two. part three.

You dream about him. Every night. 

His mouth on yours and his hands handling you with care fill the gray matter of your brain and rots it. It fits you. 

A rotten brain for a rotten person. 

The scenario repeats in a loop in your head even when you're awake, alone in your house office, accompanied by staff at the main office building. It doesn't really matter what you're doing, who you're with or if the task at hand requires your full attention, Yunho still invades your mind and makes you feel like you're leaping, flying through skies and then falling, falling, falling, before hitting the ground hard. 

Because at the end of the memory, it plays what you did. 

The way you pulled away, the way you left him there without a proper explanation. 

You didn't have dinner with your brother, it was over nine o'clock at night. You needed an escape goat, a plan, an excuse to flee from the happiness you grasped with your sticky, messy, disgusting fingers. 

Everything you touch seems to turn to shit. 

So you can't touch Jeong Yunho even if you want to. 

You shan't, you won’t, even when he’s so close to you it takes a lot for you to hold back. He’s a message away, a meeting away from you. And his messages on your phone kept piling up this week until they didn’t. 

And now, as you watch him enter the meeting in a suit and tie, you do your best to pretend nothing happened between you even though it's supposed to. To everyone else's eyes, you’re still a couple. 

You’re grateful for that. You don’t sit together, you can’t sit together. Of course you can't, that would be very unprofessional. You can't voice your opinion about any decisions made by his team (or rather, his brother's team) today because that would look like you're doing it to either spite him or to be on your boyfriend's side, it would look like corruption! 

God bless the stupid societal and corporate norms. You won't even have to speak to him today, if you're lucky. You know he's shadowing his brother today, learning his way through these meetings you've been attending for years or at least pretending to do so.

There's absolutely no reason to speak to him today. 

Yay. 

Soohyun sits at your left, at the head of the table, and Yunho sits with his brother at Soohyun’s left. Neither your father or his are here today so everyone’s shoulders are a little less tense and the meeting is a quarterly one, which means people are going to be explaining graphics and reading numbers you have to stay focused on. 

There's things you have to write down, there's statements you have to whisper in your brother's ear so he can say them out loud instead of you. 

But Yunho looks way too good in his suit and tie and it's a little distracting. 

And he's looking right at you, too. 

You can hear your co-workers immediately gossiping about it, you can see your brother turn to you, then to him, then to you and you can faintly see how he raises a brow. Faintly, because you're pretending to read over some papers in front of you by the time he bumps your leg to try and catch your attention. 

You step on his foot under the table, he mutters an offended ouch and pinches your arm in retaliation, which causes you to stop pretending to eye the documents and turn to him. 

“Stop it.” 

“You started it,” he says and then Soohyun gives you that look that lets you know he knows something you don't, although it can possibly be like that because he's a clueless little shit. “Did something happen between yo—” 

Well, maybe not as clueless. Good thing you wore great heels today, the face he makes as he's trying to pretend that the sharp end of your Louis Vuitton is not stabbing him in the leg feels like a victory. 

“Keep quiet, the meeting is starting.” 

Oh, how you love winning. 

The thing is, you can't even enjoy it now. Yunho’s face pops up on your mind again and it serves as a reminder of just how close he is. 

As someone from the sales team starts their presentation, your eyes drift to Yunho in a way that feels oddly familiar. 

There, trying to stay upright even though you know he's zoning everything out, there's this memory from your junior year in highschool that never tortured you the way it does now. 

Although he's always been very tall, Yunho used to sit near the window, in the second row of the classroom you both shared that year. Not his decision, certainly whoever made that decision was not the sharpest tool on the shed because all he did was look out of the window and close his eyes when the teachers were not paying enough attention to him. 

And you used to stare at him just like you're doing now. Through the corner of your eye, with your back straightened and ninety percent of your attention on the topic at hand. He held the other ten percent, tenderly, softly, without realizing what he was doing. 

Just like he held you that night. 

At the time, you wondered what went on in his head every time he drifted away from the class. New ways of making your life impossible? A new insult to your integrity, maybe? Highschool Yunho was everyone's dream but, for you, he meant nothing but nightmares and headaches. 

Nothing has changed much. 

But instead of wondering if he's thinking about new ways of pestering you with his presence, now your heart races at the possibility of him thinking about the kisses you two shared last week. 

You hope no one notices the sudden shift on the chair or the gulp you make to keep your emotions buried deep down inside of you, where no one can reach them. 

Trying to regain focus and ignore Yunho completely, you look at the projected graphics in front of you. The person doing the presentation turns to the next slide as soon as you're beginning to understand what the hell they're talking about. Surprisingly, your brother turns to whisper at you about it. 

“The new company sales are lower than expected.” 

When you turn fully to him, you can see he's biting his cheek in concerned concentration. You want to roll your eyes. 

“I told dad no one would care about this company and you were the one who approved for us to go forward with it.” 

“I know.” 

“Dumbass,” you whisper, scrunching your nose and turning to the presentation again but your brother nudges you slightly and you have to look at him again. 

Only for your eyes to completely bypass him and land in Yunho. 

God fucking damnit.

Is this what having a crush is like? Is tortuous and you hate this even more than when you couldn't stand seeing his face out of pure annoyance. 

This is why you probably never had a crush on anyone before. But it's strange, because it doesn't feel like something new. Yes, Yunho attending meetings is new but the feeling is familiar and grossly nostalgic of something you feel like you left behind.

And now has come back in full force. 

You never had a crush on Yunho, at least not that you know of. 

But this feeling is telling you otherwise and it's maddening and disgusting and— 

“Something definitely happened, hm?” 

Eyes flicking over your brother's sudden concerned expression, you push back on the seat and sink in it a little. This way, when you look up to him, Yunho is nowhere in sight. When you speak again, you make sure only Soohyun hears you. 

“We can save it, don't worry about it. I'll write up a proposal of how we can market the concept of the company in a way that it at least piques people's interest.” 

Your brother huffs, unsatisfied with your deflection and the way you visibly close up at the mere thought of telling him if something did happen between you and Yunho. 

But he says nothing. It stings that you know he's going to leave it at that, the support you're supposed to have slipping through your fingers as you do your best to keep your feelings to yourself. It's not his fault, not really. 

He doesn't know any better. 

You don't know any better, either. 

But your focus on the meeting comes back and you end it with thirteen pages of virtual notes and a list of things you need to do today to keep this shitshow of a company afloat. 

There's a split second when you get out of the room that you feel Yunho’s eyes on you. You're afraid he's going to take the opportunity to talk to you, so you look up and around trying to find something, someone you can use as a distraction, as a shield. 

But then there's like four pairs of hands dragging him away and you see that annoyed glint in his eye, usually reserved for you, as they turn him around and away from you. 

Yes, of course they wouldn't let him speak to you right now. He's shadowing his brother, he has important things to do! 

Yay. 

You ignore the beating of your heart as you move quickly through the halls. Soohyun and Gunho are already aiming for the elevator so you opt for the stairs, knowing you won't have to speak to anyone at all if you get to your office like this. 

Well, Soohyun's office. You have yours on a lower floor, not as unnecessary space-taking as his, but you usually work there because you enjoy the view. 

So when you finally close the door behind you and the view is blocked by thirty piled up boxes you start thinking that the universe is upset with you. Is this your karma? Everything and everyone against you just because you walked out of a kiss before making a mistake? 

Is not like Yunho cares that much about you anyway!

Huffing, you look around the room until your eyes land on that stupid tree you started painting when Soohyun told you he wanted to redecorate his office. Its branches extend just a little more than what you remember and there’s a part of it that was unfinished the last time you saw it. You can only assume either Seonghwa or your brother had something to do with it.

Which sucks. 

Because you’re so painting over the stupid tree one day. 

You stare at it while your mind wanders. Head slowly filling up with noise, you finally feel at ease when your thoughts are nothing but work: You need to write up a proposal to that stupid vintage-esque focused company to see if there’s some salvation for it. You need to speak with marketing, get one of them to go along the process with you. You need to sit down with your brother and kindly tell him to never allow something like this to ever happen again. 

Making a mental list to organize and prioritize everything you need to do, you barely register footsteps echoing in the long hall. You should’ve, because it’s lunchtime and there’s no one on the floor, but you don’t. 

And so when the person you least want to see comes through the door and lets out a heavy sigh, you turn to him like he grew a second nose over the course of the twenty minutes you last saw each other. 

“I hate it here, I truly do.” 

It almost makes you want to laugh, but you remain stoic as you move through the office. You take a few boxes and you put them down on the floor until there’s some light leaking through the window and illuminating the space enough for it not to give you a headache as you work. 

Sitting on your brother's chair, barely sparing him another glance before turning on the desk computer and pulling up an empty document. You click and tap a few meaningless things: You pick the font, you mess with the font size for a second before setting it back to its default. Anything to help you look busy and not like your heart is going a million miles per second. 

“Can I help you with anything, Yunho?” 

Blurry, in the background, you can see him look around the office, probably taking the mess in. He moves too, walks until his expensive shoes are tip to tip  with a literal mannequin resting against the wall. 

You stop paying attention as you write the date and the proposal title. Something simple, something that both your father and the CEO of the dumb not-approved-by-you company that has you in this predicament can understand. You hate to say that you assume they’re not very smart if they put out such a dated and non profitable idea for their company. 

Still, you try to address Yunho like nothing’s bothering you and like you’re not nervous you two are in a room alone after everything that went down. 

“You can ask Seonghwa what that means,” you start, sighing like his friend and your brother are hopeless. Because maybe that’s what they are. “They’re not running any ideas by me even though I’m the one that spends the most time in this office, so.” 

“Hm,” he starts and you can hear him walking around, but your focus is now on the first few words of the proposal. You realize there’s really nothing you can start before speaking with marketing and so you open the notes app, to have a list of ideas to run through them at least. “Thought you worked from home.” 

“I do. I have an office three floors down, too.” It’s easy sharing information with him now, especially if it means there’s something to talk about that’s not… Well, the kiss. “I hate it, it’s in a corner and people can see into it. It’s easier to work here.” 

“And Soohyun hyung doesn’t mind?”

“Considering he’s never here, I doubt it.” 

“Cool, cool.” 

There’s something in his tone that makes you want to look up, lump in your throat growing in size enough for you to cough it away. You don’t look up, you can’t look up even if you’ve misspelled the word rebrand like four times already. 

But then the light you managed to cast onto the space disappears completely. You feel something besides you, the soft material of an expensive suit blazer grazing your arm and cheek. You see veiny, masculine hands secure themselves around the arms of the chair before he’s turning you to face him. 

You gulp. 

He’s leaning down close, closer than he should be, closer than what he’s allowed to be considering anyone can walk in on you. You’re flushing, you can feel the redness creep up your neck and heating your ears and face before you gather the courage of raising a questioning brow. Yunho stays silent, his eyes scanning your face and briefly landing on your lips before returning your stare. 

“Can I help you with anything, Yunho?” You ask him again, quieter this time, voice trembling a little. 

“Princess,” he starts, the corner of his lip raising just a little, like it’s funny he has to say what he’s about to say, “are you ghosting me?” 

Shit. 

“Why would you— Why would I—,” a nervous chuckle abandons you and then you huff, trying to seem offended at his accusation, “W-what do you mean by that?” 

Leaning into your space a tiny bit more, he repeats “Are you ghosting me?” 

Creasing your brow, you straighten in the chair but do nothing to pull him away “No.”

“Then what about the ten messages I sent you and you left on delivered?” 

Faking a surprised gasp, you move to take your phone out of the pocket of your jacket and unlock it to swipe through your messages “You did? Oh, my God, I’ve been soooo busy.” 

“You’re shit at lying to me.” 

“I’m not lying to you—” 

“Are you okay?” 

Your eyes snap from the phone to his face, genuine annoyance creasing your eyebrows this time. 

“You don’t have to ask me that everytime you see me, Jeong.” 

“But are you?” He asks as you finally find his chat and open the messages you dreaded to see the entire time that passed. There’s a few of them practically begging you to speak to him, one apologizing for the kiss and the other ones you don’t even see because Yunho is taking the phone from your hand and placing it on the desk next to you. “I mean, what happened didn’t trigger anyth—” 

You hate he’s this considerate with you, even after you clearly walked out of the situation with a poorly formulated excuse.

“What happened was a mistake.” 

Yunho physically deflates and lets the chair go, the tension on your shoulders lifting a little now that he’s not as close. 

“What?” 

“It was a mistake, we shouldn’t have done that. We’re professionally obligated to work together, fake all of this together, so it shouldn’t…” You pause and consider for a bit before doing something you never do: take the blame “I shouldn’t have. I apologize.” 

Letting out a breath, you turn the chair and delete the misspelled rebrand to write it the correct way, heart too weak to even look at his reaction. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re never doing anything like it again. 

You hear him shuffle with the boxes at both your feet and, from the corner of your eye, you see him turning away from you and then back, hands on his hips “I don't think it was a mistake.” 

“Well, it was.” 

“I liked it.” 

That brings out a genuine, short lived laugh out of you “Thank you, I’m a great kisser.” 

You open your brother’s email and pretend there’s an urgent matter inside the contents of one of them until Yunho’s hand closes over yours, over the mouse. 

“Y/N.” 

There’s a lot of things about Jeong Yunho you hate: The swoop of his hair when there��s no gel on it, the free aspect to his nature you’re never going to get even if you try to, that one time he called you an ugly giant after wearing platforms for the first time ever. 

And the sweetness of his voice when he says your name, the plea you hear on it and the shudder it brings to your spirit. It shakes you, it moves you to look at him again, to actually take his feelings into consideration. 

He’s staring at you with so much hurt, it makes your heart sink into an abyss of guilt. 

“Hm?” 

“I think I like you.” 

Oh. 

Oh, no. 

Your heart drowns deeper, your resentment towards the situation grows branches like the tree on the wall. They hug your pride and your ego, they poke you on your side for reciprocating Yunho’s feelings just a little. 

Well, a lot.

“You think?” You ask him and your voice sounds far away. He nods. You stand up from the chair, hand squeezing his before letting drop. “Stop thinking then.” 

His eyes closing shut and his jaw tensing is the last thing you see before you busy yourself with the boxes against the window. You pick up two at a time, heavy and the cardboard smelly as you walk to the other side of the office, away from him. 

“I’m being serious, Y/N.” 

You sigh “So am I, Yunho. You don’t like me, you liked that I kissed you.” 

“Oh, I forgot you know exactly what goes through my mind and my heart, thank you for the remainder!” 

Looking at him over your shoulder, you drop the boxes against the corner wall “Lower. Your. Voice.” 

“No, no. Because that’s not an appropriate response to what I just told you!” He walks towards you and you meet him halfway, heart beating with annoyance at the way he’s speaking to you. He towers over you again, jaw clenched and voice a mere murmur when he speaks again “You have no say in what I feel, how I feel it, when I feel it.” 

“I know I don’t, you idiot. I was just providing you with a bit of perspective.” 

“Perspective?”

“What do you like about me?” Chin up and nose scrunched in a way it only does when you’re really angry, you insist “Why now? Why do you suddenly care? Is it out of pity? Is it because it’s convenient, because we’re already pretending? Is it because you want to fuck me?!”

“Watch it, Y/N.” His tone is laced with clear offense at what you offered just a second ago. 

“You don’t like me,” you start, shaking your head, “you can’t like me.” 

“Why not?!” 

He’s breathing hard, walking backwards, offering up his palms to the sky and looking around the room like any of that is going to give him an answer to his questions. 

“Why not?” He repeats and there’s that hurt in his voice that, for some reason, makes your eyes water. Are you having a panic attack? A heart attack? Everything hurts. Liking Yunho hurts, wanting him hurts. He comes back, his eyes searching yours even though you can’t do anything but cast them down, to your shoes and his shoes and the boxes and the carpet “Why can’t I like you, princess? What’s not to like? What kind of self-deprecating ideas do 

you have in your head that makes you think I can’t care about you like that?”

Shaking your head again and closing your eyes, you are barely able to stifle a sob and force your tears back. You want to tell him that that’s not the reason but you would be lying to him if you did. 

That’s part of the reason. 

Behind the whole letting your mother’s win argument, there’s an undeniable amount of self hatred that can’t let you feel like there’s any truth behind his words. 

Why would he like you? Why would he care about you? 

Your hands are dirty and sticky and your being is way too clumsy, so everything you love drops and breaks and turns to dust before your eyes. The fact that there’s this whole fake relationship deal in the middle of it and you can place the blame on your mothers is a blessing in disguise. 

It’s a weapon you can use. 

Even if you don’t want to: His hands are cradling your face, his forehead dropping against yours and drawing a surprised gasp out of you because you didn’t even feel him get him close. 

“I like you, I care about you,” there’s certainty in his tone, like he made up his mind, like he’s confirming his feelings to both you and himself, “I… I—” He takes a breath when you open your eyes and beg him to not say what you think he’s about to say. He takes the hint. “Do you not like me back, Y/N? Are you trying to… Is that what’s happening?” 

You say nothing, but swallow back your feelings and brace yourself on his forearms, nose budging his as you move a little. 

He reads your silence wrong “Y-you do?” 

You think it matters if you do or not. Your heart is already breaking by the time the words are on the tip of your tongue. 

“We can’t,” you whisper to him, letting your tears wet your cheeks and squeezing his forearms when his thumbs start to move in trying to dry them, shaking your head to signal him to stop. As your eyes catch his, you prepare yourself for the gentleness you’re about to lose, with the care you’re about to push away for his own good. “Because if we do, they win.” 

You didn’t know your heart could break this way, as you watch his expression morph from confusion to pain to utter, genuine anger. It’s the same face he made last week, in your living room, as he yelled at his mother for even daring suggesting that you two should be together. 

There’s a time when hurting Yunho brought you some sense of vengeance, a time where you considered it payback for being that person literally planned and made for you. 

Now, you want to hit your head against the wall for even daring filling his eyes with tears, for being the reason frustration descends and wets his shoes as he looks down. 

“Oh.” 

He lets you go and you miss it. You immediately want to take your words back, push him closer to you, hug him, kiss him, whatever it may be to keep him next to you.

You start to mourn the loss of the bond you were able to form with him right away. 

And it hurts. 

He nods again. And it hurts. “Oh, that’s what this is about.” 

It fucking hurts. When he laughs, hands on his face as he wipes his tears away, you feel like you’re going to pass out. 

“And you don’t care about me enough to tell them to go fuck themselves.” He says, a resentful statement that leaves his lips before a breathy laugh does. 

Opening your mouth, you attempt to contradict his words. That’s not true at all, he has to understand, he understands you, he— He raises his hand to stop you from speaking, he shakes his head like he doesn’t want to hear it. 

Like your excuses, even if he hasn't listened to them at all, are not worth his time. 

“I get it.” No, you don’t. “I understand.” No, you really don’t. 

But you say nothing. As he’s slipping through your fingers like sand, at your own doing, you just stare at him with sorrowful eyes and an apology on your teeth. 

He looks at you like he’s expecting you to stop him as he reaches the door. You want to, you really do. 

You don’t. 

“Thanks for letting me know.”

When the door closes behind him and leaves you alone in an office that’s not really yours, feeling like you’re not yourself, you finally allow the reality of what you just did to hit you. 

Hand shaking, you cover your mouth and let out a sob as you let yourself cry what you just lost. But, as you do, you remind yourself that you don’t really deserve Yunho’s care. 

You don’t really deserve his love. 

Hurting him is probably the easiest way out he has of whatever he thinks he’s feeling for you. 

Walking slowly to the desk, you wipe your tears away and nod to yourself. Yes, this is exactly what needed to happen. Good. Yes. What were you doing before he came in? 

You grab the mouse. 

Ah, the proposal. Of course. 

The noise comes back, louder this time. Unbearable and ear-piercing, it forces you to close your eyes and listen to the beat of your heart before you push the sound away. You can’t afford to crash right now.

You skim through your tasks in your mind and, as you do, the reminder of a little notification you saw on your calendar this morning, with Yunho’s name on it, is what finally lets the panic break through your senses. 

“No.” 

And you spend the rest of the afternoon typing your escape plan away. 

By the time your brother remembers he has an office, it’s dark outside and the proposal is

printed and in a folder placed neatly in the middle of his desk. 

He closes the door, raising an eyebrow at the way you’re resting your shoulder against the window behind his chair, the boxes blocking them all piled up in the corner you initially started moving them to this afternoon. 

“You’re still here.” He muses and you turn to him, scoffing at the obvious. 

“Well, somebody has to work.” 

“I was working,” he sounds a little bit offended, but when he passes in front of you and pulls back his chair to sit on it, you faintly smell whisky and cigarettes. “I was at a meeting in the gentlemen's club with Gunho.” 

“That’s hardly working, Soohyun.” 

Looking over his shoulder, he’s face to face with your unimpressed expression. Of course he went to the stupid club with Gunho, of course he didn’t do shit today. 

“Let me remind you that I am, in fact, older than you.” 

“And?”

“I deserve respect and zero questioning.” 

You hum, slightly amused this time. You know he’s goofing around, you know he’s hardly mad at the implication that you do all the work he’s supposed to do plus yours but there’s this slight worry in his face that’s unusual.  

“Is Gunho oppa okay?” 

Your brother frowns “Of course he is.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m— Why are you asking?” 

Shrugging, you turn away from him to look at the city through the window again. You can see the river and the buildings that encapsulate it perfectly and it brings you a strange sense of comfort everytime you zone out and just people watch those who feel free enough to walk along the bridge at this hour, with the cold and the rain and the mess that the leaves leave behind as they fall. 

“You look distraught.” 

“Well, you’ve been crying, of course I am.” 

Interesting. You didn’t think he could tell, which means your face is puffy and you look ugly. Great. 

“The mess in this office made me tear up when I got in this afternoon,” you say, swerving around the accusation with ease because there’s no way in hell you’re telling your brother what’s up with you. “I’m going to need your help when it comes to explaining that to dad.” And then you use your chin to point to the proposal sitting in front of him. 

“You didn’t have to do this today, I know sales are low but-” 

“Oh, that’s not it. That one is sitting on your email. This—” you take two steps, tap the front of the folder with your nails, “is a new thing. A thing he won’t understand nor approve unless you understand it and approve it.” 

And then you move back to your position by the window, staring at the lights and the buildings one more time without explaining anything else. When you hear the flick of the pages being turned, you know he understands how serious you’re about it. No space for debating, no time for complaining: you need him to get it done now, and so he will. 

Because your brother can be a lot of things but he’s not dumb. 

And he can read a room like no other except maybe you. 

Seconds turn into minutes and then the clock ticks and blends together as you wait, shoulder hurting by the time your brother lets out a heavy sigh. 

“No, I won’t approve this.” 

Definitely not what you wanted to hear. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You want to—” 

Defensiveness floats you, over-stimulates your senses and makes you see red at the rejection of your proposal “I want to expand our market, our clientele, our opportunities to keep this company on top. Can you relate?” 

“Y/N…” He scowls at your attack, at your tone “You’re running.” 

“I’m doing something for the company!” 

You think your roar is heard all the way to the first floor. Soohyun stares at you wide-eyed, mouth agape for a second before he closes it again. He has to fix his tie, his suit ironed for once as he takes the jacket off and discards it against the chair. 

Brat, princess, annoying little sister. You know that’s what he calls you, he has called you that ever since you were a child and in the most endearing way possible. You have yelled at him before, you have stomped your foot and cried and moaned until you got your way, until he agreed to let you do something. 

You have never screamed at him like this before, though. 

It shows in the way your chest rises and falls quickly, in the way he has to take a calming breath to not yell back at you. Your eyes are full with tears when he looks up and the crease of his brow disappears because, even though you both could be closer and understand each other better, he still is your brother. 

Your brother, who loves you and cares about you in his own way. 

It proves more difficult to let him see the real you, more difficult than what it felt with Yunho or with anyone else. 

So when the tears fall down your cheeks, you wipe them away quickly and pretend they were never there. 

“I don’t know what the hell happened,” he starts, calm, taking a step into your direction and raising his hand and you recoil a bit out of habit. He hesitates for a few seconds but then he’s squeezing your shoulder and pulling you into a tight hug that feels unfamiliar, unusual and weird until it doesn’t. You melt into the embrace because you need it, because it allows you to let go of your frustration and cry it out on your brother’s chest, “but you’re going to explain it to me whether you like it or not. And only then, I will consider saying yes to your proposal.” 

When you pull away to look at him, it’s with a pout and a scowl that draws a breathy laugh out of him. 

“Stupid.” He pushes you away a little before pulling you back in for a hug, “Always keeping things to yourself instead of letting me take the weight of it all. Stupid.” 

It takes a few minutes, but when the hug doesn’t seem necessary and your usual disgust for physical touch comes back into your system, he allows you to take two steps back and clean your face with the back of your hand. 

“Haven’t seen you cry since you were a child,” he whispers and you shrug, ignoring the fact that your heart stings at the comment. “What happened?” 

You tell him everything that night. 

Yunho hasn’t seen you in three months. 

Which, at first, came as relief. He didn’t want to see your face ever again after the things you confirmed to him back in your brother's office. Who needed you, right? He told himself his mother loved enough to understand the sudden change of heart, although she doesn’t exactly know what happened between you in the first place. 

Maybe he should’ve been honest when he got the chance, back in your house, the afternoon they told you both about the pr relationship. 

He was so close to telling the truth, too, when he walked out of the living room and into the hallway to clear his head and not scream at his mother in front of yours. It was there, at the tip of his tongue, and then his mother appeared in front of him with that spark behind her eye that could only mean one thing: it didn’t matter what the truth was, he was going to do this even if it killed him inside. 

Her words the next second confirmed it and he wondered right then if his freedom was worth the suffering:

“Either you do this or I’ll make sure you’re never able to dance again, Jeong Yunho. No more public university, no more friends, no more staying at the dorm, just your father’s company,” and he was about to refuse, yet again, she raised her finger as a warning. “I mean it. Y/N is perfect to clear the company’s image but if we can’t use her then we’ll have to work twice as hard as we do now to clear it.” 

And Yunho would rather fake an entire life with you than work for the man who single handedly ruined his life the second he was born. He didn’t hate his father, he thought about him like a concept he would never understand even when he desperately tried to, but he would never become part of his company.

Not in the way his mom suggested, anyway. 

He just needed to get through college, pretend to be interested in the family business and then land a freelancer job elsewhere, in a foreign company maybe, one who didn’t seem a threat to his father’s and then move on his own when he had enough money saved. 

Independence. He needed independence. Strangely enough, he needed you to gain that independence even though you meant the exact opposite to him, in his head. 

So he doesn’t know why he yelled at you that afternoon. To take it all out, maybe? He thought he hated you back then, too.

He had already agreed to it in the hallway, to his mom. 

He had already agreed to it the second he was born. 

Which is crazy because that’s not a normal experience to have. And if you were born a boy or him a girl, none of this would’ve happened in the first place. You’d be friends, like Gunho and Soohyun, and maybe he’d be forced to be with someone that wasn’t shoved down his throat for so long. 

Imagine his surprise when he kissed you back that night in his dorm. No, scratch that, imagine his surprise when he started liking you the second you showed your true colors to him. 

You’re not perfect by any means, but neither is he and it only took you allowing him to enter a little bit into your mind, into your heart, into your soul, for him to fall for you hard. Or maybe he always liked you? His mind didn’t allow him to sleep at all when you left, but it didn’t allow him to go and follow you that same night either, so the conundrum continued to torture him until it didn’t. 

After the fight in the office, he went home and sat in his childhood bedroom for a while. He had dinner with his brother when he came home to look for some documents in his father’s home office and then he went back to his dorm and stared at the ceiling until Yeosang came back from wherever he’s been disappearing to these days. 

He pretended everything was fine under Yeosang’s scrutinizing gaze but his friend and roommate knew him so much it only took less than a week for his sudden mood to reach the ears of the rest of the friend group. 

Not so subtle messages started entering his phone. He answered all of them and then used the excuse of being on the app to check your chat in case you sent a message and it didn’t notify him for some reason. He told them everything was okay, that he was feeling a bit under the weather. 

And he managed to convince them until he checked his calendar one day (the one he shared with you) and realized all foreseeable events had been cancelled. You had another meeting where you two needed to coexist, a company dinner with both your team and Gunho’s team that he needed to go to as your plus one and, surprisingly enough, a paparazzi session scheduled by your mother that you needed to first prepare to and then do. 

All of this was explained to him by his PR assistant. It surprised him to see that many postponed and canceled the app. It angered him to assume you canceled everything just because you didn’t want to see him. 

He didn’t want to see you either, but he had to. Weren’t you the one who more than once scolded him for not being professional enough? 

Ha! 

It was his opportunity to tease you about it. And so, when he was told to go to your brother’s office the next day, he had this whole speech ready to go. He would tell you to stop being so dumb, that a kiss and his feelings is something that can be ignored. That he needed you both to forgive and forget. 

Yunho needs to continue his plan, even if his own heart breaks in the process. And as he got down the elevator and walked the hall to reach the office, his heart desperately asked him to reconsider. Because there, while pushing the door handle to enter the space he dreaded to be a week prior, Yunho realized he wanted to ask you to be his again. 

When he found nothing but Soohyun on his chair, his conviction deflated and his ego sank to the ground. 

“Yunho!” Your brother sprung out of his chair, excitingly rounding his desk until he reached for him. Arm around his shoulders, Yunho raised a brow at the sudden animosity. “Were you expecting someone else?” 

“N-no.”

“Right.” 

He knew Soohyun could call his bullshit from a mile away. But it didn’t matter, he was already sitting down in front of him in the new couches facing each other. He wanted to point it out, but Soohyun beat him to it. 

“Your friend Park Seonghwa has amazing taste.” 

“Ah,” he breathed out a laugh, a nervous chuckle that made him gasp for air a second after, “yeah. He, um, was top of his class before he graduated.”

“I can tell,” Soohyun nodded and looked around, scrunching his nose in a way that reminded Yunho of you. “Y/N is not going to be available for the next few months.”

What? 

“W-what?” 

“I know you came here looking for her and we’ve known each other since you were born, Yunho, I think we can skip the shitty formalities.” 

“Hyung…”

Soohyun shaked his head, laughing with a relaxed sincerity that is such a Soohyun thing to do “There’s never not been a moment in my life where my sister doesn’t surprise me. I know you know her and I know you two have grown… Closer since this whole PR thing started but I don’t think you can grasp the full Y/N effect until you live with her, you know?”

He didn’t. Not at all. 

“She crafted in four, maybe five hours a project that would’ve taken me at least a month to sit down and write,” he explained and Yunho swallowed thickly, the lump on his throat going down. “And she wanted to get it done as soon as she got the approval from dad. So, I hope you understand that she couldn’t exactly give you a notice before postponing and cancelling your shared schedule.” 

Ah. So you didn’t want to speak to him at all. He scoffed, annoyed. “So she asked you to tell me?” 

“Nope. In fact, I’m pretty sure she would kill me if she knew I’m meeting with you at all.” 

Yunho blinked, confused. 

“Oh.”

“But I love you like a brother, Yunho. You’re my family, you’re her family even though she hates it and I realized recently that the four of us need to stick together. If everything else goes to shit, we’ll still have us.” 

The four of you. Including him and Gunho. 

“And as a family, we owe each other honesty. We owe each other loyalty and forgiveness and understanding. You see where I’m going with this?” 

“No,” he admitted, frowning a bit. “What does any of that have to do with me and Y/N? We don’t like each other, I know you and Gunho noticed at some point. It’s the way things are supposed to be.” The words had a bitter taste, but he pushed through them. 

He sounded like you.

Soohyun let out a sigh and he got up from his seat to squeeze Yunho’s shoulder “She comes back in three months, Yunho. She’s doing something from the company but she has to come back, right?” 

Yunho shrugged, pretending the information didn’t spark something close to hope inside of him. 

“Understanding. That’s what we owe each other: Love and understanding… And lunch. Your brother actually owns me lunch, feel free to join us.” 

Your brother is the weirdest guy ever. However, he realized that as Soohyun walked out of the office and left him to consider his words, that he was already planning on telling you when you came back. 

He missed you already, too. 

And yet, he didn’t find the courage to tell you at all. It tormented him, greatly, vastly. It consumed him through his classes, his dance rehearsals, his performances. It tugged on his heart the days he had to go to the office and pretend he cared about the company, and through his hang outs with his friends. 

They asked about you all the time. He had to remind them you were on a business trip, he had to make up a story, he had to tell them the details were apparently confidential when he didn’t even know where you were.

He could’ve just called you. He could’ve just asked you. 

His finger over your contact on his phone while he sits in Wooyoung's room during a house party, in the dark. 

He could just ask you. 

He–

“Okay, what the fuck is going on with you?” 

He drops his phone, the light of the screen going out as it lands down on the bed. 

“Holy shit, Mingi!” 

 A light turns on and he squints his eyes at the sudden intrusion. 

“You scared the shit out of me!”

“I walked in here like five minutes ago,” his best friend deadpans and Yunho pouts like a child. “You know, I’m starting to feel like I don’t mean that much to you anymore.”

That offends him deeply and he scowls before tossing a pillow in his direction  “What the hell are you even saying?” 

“I’m a patient person, Yunho,” he catches the pillow and tosses it back, “and I’ve been waiting for you to tell me what's been going on for the last month and half but you keep saying everything’s fine.” 

“Because everything’s f—” 

“No, it’s not!” 

Mingi is tired, he can tell. He’s been holding his worries inside since the day he told everyone about his relationship with you and Yunho feels awful. This is that part of his life that’s hard to talk about. He only explained to Mingi about the dreadful desire that his father has of making him work for him around a year ago and he’s known Mingi for so long at this point that it does feel a little like he doesn’t trust him enough. 

But it’s hard and he has kept his feelings and desires buried for so long he thinks he might’ve accidentally dragged his feelings for you along with it and now they’re all mixed up and scratching the walls of their enclosure, begging to come out of him. 

“I’m not used to push people around to tell them about their feelings but you’re my best friend and—” 

“I kissed Y/N.” 

Mingi stops mid sentence, blinking a few times before moving to sit beside him on the bed. Yunho hopes, as he faintly hears the music outside of the room getting louder and Wooyoung screaming something that he can’t exactly make up, that Mingi doesn’t think he’s suddenly confessing his afflictions out of pressure. 

Instead, the words came out of his mouth like he couldn’t resist telling them in the first place. After keeping it to himself for weeks, nearly three months, it finally feels like breathing a little. 

“O… kay.” He says as a response and it’s Yunho’s turn to blink at him in disbelief, Mingi laughs a little. “So you kissed the girl you like. Isn’t that something to be happy about?” Yunho gapes at the insinuation of Mingi knowing he likes you, except, it doesn’t come as a surprise. His friends are very observant, to his absolute horror they can’t be fooled. “Did she reject you? Is that what’s going on?” 

“No! I mean, yes. We… She kissed me first!” He defends himself, taking a quick inhale before cursing softly under it. “And then I kissed her. And then we kissed and she left and she ghosted me for a little, actually. And then I saw her in her office, that's not actually her office but her brother’s, and I… I kind of confronted her? And then she rejected me.” 

By the time he finishes his rambles, Mingi looks amused and a little worried. 

“You have to be in this… Fake relationship with her and that’s tormenting you, then? Because she rejected you?” 

“No, that’s not… We’re not— I am, we are still in the fake relationship, it’s just that she’s gone.” 

“She died?!” 

“What? No! No, she’s,” Yunho closes his eyes, laughing at the assumption because he knows Mingi said it to get that exact response in return, “she’s not dead. She, um, she’s on that business trip.” 

“Oh, that’s right! You told us—”

“I lied.”

“What?” 

His poor best friend looks confused beyond belief and that guilt of not telling him everything creeps in once more, threatening to shut him up until he reminds himself Mingi is trustworthy and deserves some clarity. 

“She is on a business trip, I just don’t know why or how or where she is,” he finishes softly, his lips in a line and revealing just how uneasy that makes him feel. “I don’t know where she is and I think that she left because I— Well, when she rejected me we didn’t end up on the best of terms.”

“So you think it’s your fault.” Mingi finishes with a nod, letting out a sigh a second after. “Well, it’s not.” 

“It kind of is, though.” 

“Yunho, it’s not. She’s a grown up, if she decides to run away from her feelings instead of facing them she’s kind of a dumbass.” 

“Mingi!” Yunho’s pushing him a bit with his hand on his shoulder before he can help it. 

“She is!” Laughing, his best friend takes no offense at the push and instead pushes him back, teasingly. “Remember that one party you had at your place, when your parents were gone on that business trip with your brother?” 

“Oh, that party?” 

“Yeah, that party,” Mingi nods, looking away for a second, something shining in his face Yunho realizes he’s longing for. He wants that to shine on him, too: the security that being with the right person brings you. “Love tried to run away from an argument that night, too. I just didn’t let her.” 

“Are you calling your girlfriend a dumbass?” 

“Yeah,” and instead of saying it with a grudge, the confirmation comes out of a place filled with, well, love. “She was a dumbass back then, at least.” 

“Y/N is not like that at all,” Yunho says after a bit, “she’s not a dumbass for running away from this. Our thing… It’s kind of different. We’ve been put in this situation since we were kids and we hated, like actually hated each other for a while. We treated each other so badly, Mingi, you have no idea the way she gets under my goddamn skin sometimes,” and despite saying it like it’s a bad thing, he can’t help but smile. Mingi notices this, too. “You know I don’t have the best relationship with my parents, right? Well, hers is way worse.” 

“Wait, you told us that this relationship was something to clear your company’s image?” Mingi recalls and Yunho feels another pang of guilt against his ribcage. 

“It is! It totally is, it’s just… Well, she was born a girl and I was born a boy and our parents have a very, um, old-fashioned concept of love and what it’s supposed to look like. It was decided a long time ago that we were going to end up together.” 

There’s a few seconds of silence before Mingi bursts out laughing so hard it drowns the noise from outside the room. 

“That’s funny to you?” Yunho asks, light-hearted and smiling at the sound of his best friend's laugh. 

“No, no, it’s just… Your parents are forcing you two together for some weird legacy, bloodline reason and you fell for the girl you’re in a fake relationship with and you’re supposed to hate?” 

Now that he hears it like that…

“Basically, yeah.” 

“Oh, San’s girl is about to have a field trip with this information.”

“Dude!” 

“What? It’s dumb! Y/N is a dumbass, you’re dumber for not just calling her and telling her you miss her and you’re both really fucking dumb for not telling your parents to fuck off. You’re grown!” 

Yunho sighs, shaking his head. “She doesn’t like me like that, Mingi.”

“Yes, she does!” He laughs again, covering his mouth with his hand once he realizes Yunho is getting annoyed with it. “Yunho… Ugh, is this how you all felt those few months where I was crying over Love?” 

“I didn’t feel anything.” 

“Because you’re a puppy,” Mingi’s shoulder brushes against his in a not so subtle way of teasing him and his eyes blank in pretend annoyance. “You are. And you’re a pretty great guy, Yunho. If she doesn’t like you back it’s not the end of the world.” 

Yunho nods, but he’s suddenly not as convinced as he should be. 

“And you’re also one of the strongest people I know, in here.” Mingi’s finger taps over his heart on his chest. “But you don’t have to carry your burdens on your own. This is all… It all seems pretty dumb to me but it must be really hard on you, hm? Especially since you want to live a life separate from your family, right?” 

That, Mingi knows. “Mhm.”

“And so does Y/N?”

“No, I’m not so sure about that,” he murmurs back and his heart aches when he thinks about you and the way you’re treated home, in the way your mother has treated you in front of him. “I think she thinks she’s nothing without her family but I also think she was raised to believe that. They… Well, even her brother has a hard time seeing how fucking amazing she is.” 

“Is she?” Mingi drops his head to the side, doubt and a little prejudice on his expression. “Is she fucking amazing, Yun?” 

“She’s… She’s such a good person. Which is really crazy for me to say, because I thought she was a spoiled brat for a long time. And she is! But she’s also… She cares so deeply and she’s enjoys painting and she’s so great with kids and—” 

“And you have it bad,” Mingi laughs again, shoving him against the mattress with a push and standing up from the bed. Yunho laughs, recognizing the amount of pushing as tipsy Mingi behavior and nothing else. “So bad. Were you about to call her?” 

He feels called out and a little shy about it. He blushes and all. 

“Maybe.”

When his focus goes back to his phone, it’s when he hears it. 

And his heart drops to his ass. 

A distant curse and the sound of a call ending is enough to send his mind into a new, different spiral. 

“Was that…?” 

Yunho picks up the phone, checks the last call he made and your name appears next to the nine minutes and a half his conversation with Mingi lasted. 

His mouth runs dry, his throat closes as he turns to screen to show it to Mingi.

“Holy fuck.” 

“What do I do?” 

“That’s insane. San’s girl is going to have the best night of her life.” 

“Mingi!” He blocks the phone, tosses it on the bed and gets up to shake his best friend's shoulders. “What. Do. I. Do. Now.” 

Your heart still beats like the day you not-so-accidentally listened to a conversion you shouldn’t have. 

There’s the distant memory of your phone vibrating under your pillow at the hotel you were staying at for the night. It happened only a few weeks ago, near the three month mark into your trip around the country, looking for businesses worth the investment in little towns. That far into your adventure, you had met at least a dozen small companies worth every penny inside your father’s pocket, more so than the one’s already signed. You had met wonderful people who didn’t exactly know who you were and you had been treated so kindly it made the ache in your chest go away. 

At least for a little bit. 

So when you sleepily read Yunho’s name on your screen at two am in the morning, the sting of the pain was unfamiliar and the first thing that crossed your mind was that something bad happened to your brother. Or his brother. Or him. 

What other reason did he have to call you when he left that office hating you all over again? 

“H-hello?” 

Nothing. Just silence and maybe a distant melody, the ruffling of the phone against something. 

“Yunho? If you called me to piss me off I swear to God—”

“Holy shit, Mingi! You scared the shit out of me!” 

Mingi? 

There’s a deeper voice you can hear on Yunho’s end and that’s when you realized he didn’t mean to call you in the first place.

And you should've hung up there. But you didn’t and so you listened to their entire conversation and realized one thing: 

Mingi was right. You are a dumbass. 

And Yunho is even dumber, but that’s something you would have to rub on his face when you gather the courage to see him again. That day is not today, you made sure of it. 

You see, you’ve changed just a tiny bit these past three months. It’s not like you went to a spiritual retreat but by crafting that proposal while fleeing your feelings and the mess that you made with just one kiss, you came around something you never experienced before. Not fully, at least: 

Freedom. 

You spent Christmas and New Years all alone, with no one dear to you around and you saw the fireworks from your hotel window and you felt and suddenly you understood what Yunho sees in in sleeping in that tiny dorm with a roommate and a pile of dirty clothes in a corner, with no pushing their way into the room to pick his messes up and no one making sure he eats at the correct time, the correct meals and the correct porcelain for the day.

No rules, no conditions, just a place where he can be free and himself. 

You did all of that while also making sure you didn’t abandon your priorities. You went to sleep late because you wanted to and then you went to bed early the next day because there were no rules, no events you needed to attend to, no photographers asking you to smile.

There was no one to tell you that you looked fat after eating one delicious, non dietetic meal. There was no devil (your mom) whispering in your ear how everyone would notice the carbs, the bloat and the tiny zits. 

There was no one there to stop you from cutting your hair. And so you did. What once was kept long and straight in order to keep a traditional, clean look, now rested in waves on your shoulders,

It makes it so much easier to walk out of the shower, in less time too! 

And although your heart yearned for Yunho everyday, especially after hearing his conversation with Mingi at two in the morning when you weren’t even supposed to, it was the first time in years you felt happy enough to drop the mask, the pretences, the good posture and even the makeup. 

Yup, you went out without makeup three times! That’s some information that would send your mother into cardiac arrest at the very least. 

So now, as you try to move fast through a college campus that’s not yours, with a box that contains something you call an apology and it might not even be, your heart is beating with the same amount of strength just at the thought of all this backfiring. 

Because you’re not ready to see Yunho, not yet. You want him to come and find you, to come and tell you if he wants to accept you back into his life, under his terms, after you so insistently kicked him out of yours. 

You sneakily checked his calendar. You bribed your assistant, who bribed his assistant, so now his schedule for the week is in a screenshot on your phone and you have checked it four times to confirm this is a good time to be here. 

He has dinner with his family and yours (who don’t even know you’re back yet) at his house, on the hill, which is forty minutes away from his campus. That’s exactly the window of opportunity you’ve been waiting for since coming back. 

And you came back a week ago. 

You may or may not have memorized the code for the door from that only time you came to his dorm and so it’s not really a surprise when you quickly enter it and hear a screech behind you when you are busy closing the door. 

When you turn around, Yeosang is shirtless and covering his chest with his hands “Y/N!”

“Yeosang.” You say with a small bow, struggling to not laugh and turning your face away, looking at the postered up wall. “So nice to see you here, in your room.” 

“W-what are you… I mean how do you… Should I call Yun—” 

“No!” When you turn to him again, eyes wide with worry, he has a shirt on and his phone in his hand. “Please don’t… Let me do something real quick and then you can speak to him, okay?” 

You start to fumble with the box, placing it at the end of the bed and opening it up fast. You throw the lid on top of Yeosang’s bed and then get to work, pulling everything out. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I hate lying to my friends, Y/N.”

“And you’re such a great friend for that but you won’t be lying to him because I’m not asking you to do that.” 

“I wouldn’t even if you did ask me to.” 

“Well, I don’t know about that…” 

Okay, so you changed a little bit. Not a lot. 

You sigh, struggling with the placement of your gift/apology because Yunho changed his sheets and so the color scheme it’s not perfect anymore. 

“What’s all of this?” 

“Yunho enjoys dancing,” you start and you see him nod from the corner of your eye, so you smile. “He told me he did it to have this dorm but I didn’t buy it at all, and so when I was on my trip I… Sort of thought of him a little bit, not a lot.” You clear your throat, a slight heat creeping up your cheeks. “But I didn’t want to wait another day without giving this to him. I just… I can’t exactly be here when he sees it.” 

You finish, turning back to Yeosang and you realize you’re out of breath, nervousness creasing your brows. 

“Would you please let me know how he reacts to it the next time we see each other?” You ask softly, almost shy and Yeosang visibly relaxes at the tone. It makes you feel understood somehow and so you relax a little bit, too. “If you’re here when he gets here I mean, um, you are all dressed up.” 

When you point to his outfit, he seems to remember that he was, in fact, getting ready to go out when you walked in. His hair is wet but styled and all. 

“Oh, I was… I was just going to the club.” He points to a camcorder on his beat and you raise a curious brow, but don’t really ask anything. “I’m making a dance documentary for one of my classes. Yunho is in it, too.” 

That peaks your interest and he laughs, possibly at the way you light up at the mention of your fake-boyfriend-possible-love-of-your-life name. “He is?” 

“Yes, he’s… A big part of it, actually, but I go to this club to get footage and… You should ask him to explain it to you.” 

Now, at that, your smile sure turns sour because there’s no actual way of knowing if he wants to see you again or not. 

After all, he didn’t attempt to contact you after that phone call. 

You don’t know if he noticed that he called you, either. 

It’s kind of killing you inside, all the space you need to fill with assumptions instead of facts. 

“Sure, um…” 

“I can stay until he comes back.” 

“Oh, I don’t want to ruin your plans for the night, Yeosang. You should go and—”

“I want to see it. I want to record it,” he explains, looking over your shoulder and into the gift in Yunho’s bed. “He says he’s not sure, but I think he wants to dedicate his life to it, you know?” 

“To dancing?” 

Yeosang nods. 

Your voice sounds very small when you ask him “Do you think he’s going to like it?” 

He smiles, softly, endeared almost.

“He’s going to love it,” he assures you, “And your haircut, too.” 

You chuckle at that, touching the ends of it that rest on your shoulder “You think?” 

“Yeah! It suits you, actually.”

“Thank you, Yeosang.” 

This time, and after making small talk with his roommate, you leave Yunho’s dorm with a smile on your face instead of tears running down your cheeks. 

There’s exhaustion pouring out of Yunho by the time he reaches his dorm door. He closes his eyes, rests his forehead against the cool wood of it and lets out a sigh to collect himself. He needs to have the energy to take a shower, after all. 

It’s not as late as he expected it to be, the digital clock on the wall glows blue and neon and lets him know it’s around nine thirty. Good, that’s great. 

He misses you. 

And it’s hard not to think of you when he’s surrounded with people who know you, who bring you up when it’s time to talk about positive results for the company, or the time you organized an event for you mother because your brother had no taste to pick the venue or catering or whatever the fuck they were going on about tonight. 

It didn’t escape him that Soohyun glanced at him every time your parents brought you up and he wonders if it shows in his face just how much he longs to see you again.

He’s thinking about your face when the room unexpectedly lights up and Yeosang is standing on his own bed, in the corner, smiling like a creep. Yunho almost falls as a curse slips past his lips and he stares at his friend like something is deeply wrong with him. 

Because it is. 

It’s almost comical how breathless he is as he asks him: “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Hey!” 

“��Standing in the corner like a serial killer.”

“Turn around, Yunho.” 

“What?” 

“Turn,” he repeats, slowly, as he climbs out of the bed, the camera pointed in his direction still. “Around.” 

So he does. 

And what he sees… Confuses him. Until it doesn’t. 

There’s a few things on his bed: There’s some polaroid pictures lined up, different people he doesn’t know in them, all in different traditional attire and Yunho can see there’s inscription in them, the dates all read from early november to two weeks ago. 

There’s tickets to a competition that’s supposed to be sold out. He knows, he tried to get a ticket the second they announced it but couldn’t. The top dance teams are going to battle for some bucks but, most importantly, they’re going to battle to keep the dying scene alive. 

A book titled Why Dance Matters next to a golden retriever plushie with a suit that makes him giggle out of the pure weirdness of it. 

There’s a copy of grease with some signatures in the front. He can make out something that reads as Barry Pearl in it, he thinks. His mind reels at what that means. 

A cd in a clear case with a beautiful sunset and a building he recognizes immediately as the orphanage you took him to. Six silhouettes he can only imagine symbolizes him, Jaemi, Hyunjoon, his brother, Soyi and you. 

But what confirms it’s something you did, it’s the envelope that sits in the middle of it all. It's waxed and sealed with something that looks regal, elegant and, when he picks it up to see the seal up close, he smells your perfume. 

He turns to Yeosang, eyes watery, in request of an explanation. 

“Open it! I’ve been dying to read it but I’m a great friend,” Yeosang almost wiggles with excitement and Yunho’s eyes water a little. “Or so she said.” 

“She was here?” 

“Y/N?” His friend asks in return, weirded out. “Well, yes.” 

“When?” 

“An… hour and something ago.” 

“Where did she go?” 

“Are you okay?” 

He’s speechless, envelope shaking a bit in his hand as he pushes the need to run to you away. He doesn’t know what this means, he doesn’t know what the letter says either. His heartbeats are thumping on his ears and muffling Yeosang’s words a little bit. 

He needs to calm down. 

He needs to read the letter. He’s–

“You’re crying,” Yeosang turns off the camcorder, closing the screen and tossing it softly on his bed before taking a few steps in his direction. Concern is written all over his face, a little bit of guilt too. “I shouldn’t have let her in, right? I knew something was off with you but I had no idea that you two had fought or—” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Yunho quickly dries off his tears, shaking his head at his friend’s anxious apology. “I just… I missed her so much, Yeo.” 

“Oh.” 

“So fucking much.” 

“Yunho…” He closes his eyes and jumps a little a Yeosang’s sudden embrace, but he’s grateful for it. Envelope trap between his chest and Yeosang’s rib, he takes a bated breath filled with things he can’t quite burden his friend with. 

He remembers Mingi’s words loud and clear, but the only thing Yunho wants to do right now is find where you are so he can see you again. Hug you again. Kiss you again. 

That night, after he realized he had dialed your number by mistake, he had a full on breakdown in Wooyoung’s room and it took Mingi and Mingi’s girlfriend to talk him out of fleeing the country out of embarrassment, out of guilt. He thought back then he had definitely lost you, because the consensus the three of them came to was a ‘let her reach you if she wants to clear things out’ instead of a ‘call her and explain it yourself before she has the chance to reach out to you first’. 

Mingi said you had to at least prove you had any interest in making things right, in fighting to at least keep your friendship with him. 

As he opens up the letter, he immediately knows he should’ve just called you. 

He even forgets Yeosang is right beside him, looking away to give him some privacy to read your words without actually letting go of the embrace, just in case he needs it. Yunho knows this, he’s thankful, his legs shaking with need to go after wherever you are. 

And he’s about to ask again but, as he turns his head to regard his friend and explains the letter a little, he’s one step ahead of him. 

“She’s staying in a hotel, not her house.” Yunho opens and closes his mouth, about to ask him the name of the hotel when he shakes his head. “The luxury one in Itaewon. What? Did you think I would let her go without getting the information first?” 

Yunho shrugs, Yeosang clicks his tongue in disappointment, letting go of him and putting, at least, ten steps between the both of them. 

“She’s very talkative when she’s not with a big crowd, Yun. Now move.” 

“I think I—” He starts to say but stops midway, looking down at the letter and then at his friend again. 

Yeosang gives him a soft smile, the one he curves on his lips when he’s endeared with something, with someone. Yunho went clubbing with him once, he knows the smile very well. 

“I know,” he says in a murmur and then sighs like it’s a task to be around him. “Now, let’s go. We’re going to the same area anyway and I could use the ride. There’s the box.” 

In the car (one he ordered from an app, not his family car), his leg moves up and down and his hands tremble with anticipation and, as the imposing structure of the hotel comes into view while he stares at the window, he swears he feels at ease. 

For the first time in months, he feels like he’s home. 

And it’s all because he’s about to see you again. 

Yeosang is not a very discreet person. He’s soft spoken and he looks like he cares about his friend’s a great deal, but he has that clumsiness of a person who’s used to being transparent about things. 

He asked you if you just got home with a spark of hopefulness in his eye, like he couldn’t wait to clue in Yunho about it, like he knew what he was going to do when he read your letter and saw your gift. 

Yeosang asked you like Yunho had already forgiven you and that had filled you silly head with warmth and hope and expectations you shouldn’t have because, as far as you noticed, Yunho is not the most honest friend to have. 

So you asked yourself if Yeosang knew about the fight, if the rest of his friends knew. 

And you still told Yeosang where you are staying. 

There’s only one lamp helping with lighting up the bedroom, the city outside of it alive and busy like it always is. The amount of lights beyond the river bring you comfort, something familiar spreads on your chest when you take them in and you admit, for the first time in three months plus the week you’ve been staying here, that you love this stupid city even if it makes you feel trapped most of your days.

But here? In this space that you have made yours over the last seven days? You love it. 

Your hair is wet and your face is clean of any product. You told yourself to go about your night routine like you weren’t expecting something else to happen. That way, when it doesn’t because you feel that what you did is unforgivable as much as it is cruel, you won’t be as disappointed. 

So your face is moisturized and you have your nightgown underneath the silk bath this hotel provides and you’re totally not thinking about Yunho being in the same city as you, you are totally not freaking out over the reaction to your gift, you’re chill. 

You’re chilling, you’re cool. 

And the way your heart leaps when you hear a knock at the door means nothing, because you ordered room service like thirty minutes ago. It’s fine. 

He’s probably not showing up. 

So why the hell is he there when you open the door? And where’s your room service when you need it? 

“Yunho!” 

“Y/N…” 

The atmosphere turns weird and tense right away and you grab onto the frame of the door as he stares at you with indecipherable emotion in his eyes. Is he happy to see you? Is he here to curse you out? 

Is he mad? He’s totally upset at you. He is, he’s… Skinnier, just a little bit. His hair is lighter, too, like a brownish blond that suits him and his skin tone and he looks so good even if there’s dark circles under his eyes. 

You missed him so much. 

“Come in! Um…” You say after what feels like hours of silence, of you two just staring at each other with a little disbelief, opening up the room door wider and stepping aside so he can pass right by you. 

His cologne makes you a little dizzy, drives you a little crazier but there’s not enough time to focus on that because he has the box you left earlier in his dorm in one hand and your letter in the other. 

You close the door, taking in a little calming breath that does nothing to appease the erratic beat of your heart. 

The eighty two square meters of this room suddenly feel like ten and when he puts the box down on the coffee table of the immediate tiny living room space of this suite, you feel like it’s over. 

He turns around, a hand on his hip and the shade that the lamp casts on him doesn’t allow you to determine if he’s clenching his jaw or not, if he’s upset or not, if he’s—

Yunho raises his hand, the one holding your letter. 

“What’s this?” 

Oh, he’s so upset. Okay, good, you foresaw this the moment you decided to give him something. It’s okay, you tell yourself as you walk the steps separating you and take the letter from his hand, you can deal with this. 

And, although you have changed a little in the months you didn’t see him, there’s a long way to go before your defensiveness stops being the only way you know how to approach a situation targeting you and your ego. 

“If you didn’t like it, you could’ve just thrown it away or burned it, Yunho, you didn’t have to come all the way here—” 

“Read it to me.” 

You look up at him, blinking once and then twice at his request. 

“Didn’t you—” 

“Princess,” he says, letting out a tiny breath in between his words, “read it to me. Please.” 

Now that you’re physically closer to him, you can pick up this gentleness in his features that you know well. It’s the same expression he had back in the orphanage, when Jiwoo took Jaemi in her arms and he was left staring at you with his cheek pressed on his forearm while he rested on the table. You think about that exact moment a lot, late at night, when the only thing overwhelming your thoughts it’s him. 

You swallow the lump on your throat down as you take out the letter from the envelope. It’s a little dark but there’s really no need for you to read the words when you know them by heart. You wrote and rewrote them at least a hundred times before deciding the letter looked good and that it wasn’t too long, too obnoxious, too sweet, too cringy. Just the right amount of emotion in case it came to bite you in the ass, like now. 

“S-sure,” you let out a sigh, past caring if he sees you’re a little affected by the situation as a whole. “Yunho, I’m sure you’re reading this after seeing the gift layed out in front of you. Take it as an expression of gratitude for all the times the mere thought of you got me through a day, even in this time when we’re supposed to be upset at each other. I think about you a lot and I think about what I did, too. I’m— This all sounds to stupid and formal,” you criticize your own work without thinking it through, frowning and looking up at him. “This letter is supposed to be an apology and it reads like an email.” 

Yunho shakes his head, a tiny smile tugging on his lips. “Go on, please.” 

Sniffing because you feel uncomfy and vulnerable, you continue.  

“I’m sure you’re wondering why now and not three months ago. Well, it takes a lot for me to defy the expectations people put on my shoulders. As you know, my last name is laced with success I didn’t work on and letting go of things you’re used to is hard, but I did. I went away, I learned, I grew up a little bit and in my journey the only constant was you. Not the fight we had, not the way we have treated each other throughout the many years I’ve known you. I’ve always seen your life from the outside even if I was a part of it, I’ve seen your social media posts and wondered if I wasn’t deserving of the same kindness you display to your friends on them but, as you proved to me that I am deserving of it, I understood that it wasn’t your voice in my head telling me I didn’t, it was mine.

“Not my mother’s voice, not anyone else's, but mine. Accepting that was hard but I did it and I did it on my own but as a result of the impact you had on me the second you turned around and held me with the care I now think I deserve.” Something drops on the paper, wets it and blends the ink of the pen you used together and you realize there’s tears running down your cheeks. “I can’t ask you to forgive me for what I did. But just know that I kissed you because I wanted to, not because you were being kind to me. And I pushed you away because, out of everyone that has come and gone from my life, you’re the only person who has the possibility to break my heart and mend it the times you seem fit…” 

You look up and to the side to wipe your tears. You’d pat yourself on the back for how you read this to him, without any stutters or mistakes, but the truth it’s that melancholy swallows you as you reach the end of the letter. It’s more emotional than what you’d remembered, too, now that you’re reading it outloud and in front of the man you love. 

There’s no need for you to read what comes next because you want to say it looking at him. 

“And I’m sorry. I love you and I don’t love you just because we kissed or because we are forced to be together. I love you because you’re part of me, because you’ve always been. I love you and I can’t stand to lose you. Again, I’m sorry,” you repeat, looking down at the words again before finishing in a whisper: “Yours, Y/N.” 

There’s this pregnant silence that follows that makes you fidget on your feet. It takes a second for you to gather yourself together again, wipe your cheeks and look up at Yunho. There’s disbelief in his expression and you wince in preparation for what’s about to follow. 

“Like I said,” you start again, extending the letter to him so he can take it, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t expect you to do anything, really, a-and I understand if this is all too childish or too cringy for you to say something back. I don’t need you to say something back! Really, I don’t,” you laugh amidst the sudden verbal vomit and shrug, not even looking at him anymore. “I j-just wanted you to know. And I mean it: If you don’t want me that way, it’s completely fine, Jeong. I also settle for being your friend, i-if that’s easier for everyone— For you, if that’s easier for you,” you correct yourself, “because I don’t really care what anyone thinks anymore, including my mother, she can go fuck herself and she can win all she wants if that means keeping you in my life and—” 

He grabs the letter and in a second he uses the tight hold you have on it to push you closer, tearing the paper in the process. 

“Kim Y/N, you big dummy.” 

He lets go of the letter and you do too, hands resting on his chest as you stumble forward a little, the paper falling to your feet as his right hand settles on your cheek, the left one on the nape of your neck. 

“Excuse me?” 

Yunho laughs, breathy and pointed while his eyes scan your face. “You heard me.” 

“Are trying to piss me off, Jeong Yun—” 

This time, when Yunho kisses you, it doesn’t feel new. It doesn’t feel like defiance, it doesn’t feel like you’re breaking the rules or letting your mom win. 

It feels like coming come. 

The ache in your soul stops the second his lips move against yours, deliciously slow and firm while he holds you close. His hands shift, they move the satin robe as they descend and find their place on your back, on your hip. Your chest collides with his with a soft nudge forwards and you sigh against his mouth, welcoming the way his hands tighten on you, feeling finally at ease in his embrace. 

You thought, when preparing his gift, writing the apology letter and then earlier at his dorm, that your self control was something to be admired. Yeah, you love him deeply and all, but you had the restraint to give him the opportunity to decide what he wanted to do with all the things you told him. 

Now you think that there’s nothing in the world that could stop you from kissing his lips raw, from pulling his hair a bit when your fingers tangle in it, from drinking the sound you get in return. 

Fuck your self control. You want Yunho like you never wanted anyone or anything before. 

That’s why you’re grateful when he pumps the break, lips leaving yours and breath on your lips. When you open your eyes, he’s already staring at you. With the way he’s holding you, you barely have to get on your tippy toes to nuzzle his nose against yours with care and the action reminds you of that day at the office, before you fucked up, but the feeling is way different. 

This time, your gut tells you that whatever is about to happen with the two of you is something that’s going to linger, that he’s going to stay one way or another and your heart thumps loudly at the thought of having Yunho in your life forever. 

Four months ago, the thought would’ve given you a headache. 

Now, it heats up your cheeks as his hands return to your face. 

“I’m sorry, I had to kiss you. I also should’ve gone after you that night, in my dorm, I— I’m also sorry, Y/N,” he lets go of you softly, putting a step in between the two of you so he can take your hands in his. “I’m sorry I cornered you in the office and I’m sorry I expected you to just… Drop all of your beliefs and convictions for me. That’s the most delusional thing I’ve ever done.”

“It’s okay—”

“But I love you,” he breathes out and you feel like the air it’s been knocked out of your lungs. “I’m a big pretender, you know? I… I try to be as positive as someone can be, I try to be aloof and I ignore a bunch of things in order to let myself be distracted from what my family expects of me, so I couldn’t understand when you didn’t want to do the same. I do now.

“And I don’t let myself enjoy a bunch of things either, Y/N, but I do allow myself little moments of happiness. When I’m with my friends or when I dance, I tend to have those little moments and then I allowed myself to see you in a new light and I… If I thought those two things brought me some sort of respite from my sorrows, I had no idea you of all people could feel like… Like…”

“Home?” You offer, your voice a sweet whisper full of understanding. 

“Like home.”

He swallows tightly, averting his eyes to the floor for a second. 

“I’m sorry for not returning that call,” he says, his brows creasing a little bit, “I took advice from drunk people in love, so I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you come to me.” 

“I was doing the same,” you whisper back, shrugging his worries away. “Letting you come to me, that is. I couldn’t even— I mean, I should’ve given you all of this in person instead of dropping it off like a scaredy cat.” 

“You did hear the conversation though?” 

“Yeah. Mingi called me a dumbass and I’m not going to forgive him.” 

He laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. “He was right, a little bit.” 

“He called you dumber,” you return, frowning at his jab even though you know he didn’t intend any ill with it. “So yeah, you could say he was right.” 

There’s a few seconds where he just stares: at your hands, twined together with ease and familiarity. At your face, a loving smile lifts the corners of his mouth up before he steps closer again and lets his thumbs trace the curve of your mouth, your cheekbone, your nose. 

“I missed you so much, my love.” 

Oh.

Fuck. 

You warm to the pet name immediately, its significance running through you like a shudder and making you gasp softly, almost imperceptibly. You guess it shows on your expression, the smile on Yunho’s lips widening as his knuckle presses on your cheek gently. 

“You liked that I called you that?”

“Shut up.”

“My love,” he repeats, pecking your lips, “I love you. I’ve… I actually don’t know if I’ve loved you this way all this time, but I’m sure I loved you to some degree. I cared— I care about you.” 

You tear up again. 

That voice that tells you that you don’t deserve him comes back, a distant murmur of it this time, but it’s still there. 

For a good reason, too. 

“Forgive me for being so horrible to you all these years,” he makes a face, like he can’t believe you’re apologizing for that right now. “I wish I could say I did it because I was a vain, stupid child but it was all very much thought through.” 

“I know.”

“And I was horrible. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks now, I—”

His lips press softly against yours again. “Stop it. I was horrible to you too, we were both stupid and childish and we had our reasons.”

“Did we, though?” Your nose scrunches while you truly think about all the times you could’ve been nicer to each other and chose to be mean instead. 

His eyes water a little. You frown, fingers tightening around his wrists, you turn to kiss his palm. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I just love you a lot,” he sniffs and you catch with your knuckle the tears that roll down his cheeks. He closes his eyes, letting out a breath and untensing his shoulders at the same time. “And it feels so good to be able to say it.” 

“When did you figure it out?” Curiosity takes over you for a second, you allow yourself to wonder about it without any guilt now. 

He hums, thinking about it with a pout on his lips “Like I said, I think I’ve always loved you to some degree. I just… Didn’t know it. I’ve never loved anyone like this before but I think that when I saw you with Jaemi and my heart felt like it was about to come out of my mouth, I kind of knew.” 

“So when I kissed you…”

“I knew,” he nods, “and I should’ve been more insistent when I was trying to talk to you. Go to your house, do something, but I’m… A little inexperienced in this type of stuff.” 

“Because you have no bitc—”

You’re already giggling before he interrupts. “And you love me like I am, so now what?” 

The smile on your lips is so wide you have to look to the side, focus on the shadow of the chair in the tiny living room space for a second to compose yourself. 

It doesn’t really work, because he’s smiling as hard when you turn back to him. 

And then, for the first time since he got here, he seems to notice the length of your hair. He brushes it back with his fingers, the strands barely damp now, and gasps when he reaches the tips at your shoulders. “You cut it!”

With a nod, you laugh at his sudden surprise. “I did, I’m about to get disowned.” 

“Oh, your mom is going to pass out at the very least.” He agrees right away and you laugh again before he joins, his teeth nipping at his lower lip for a second. “She’ll forgive you, though.”

“You think so?”

“You look too beautiful to stay mad at you for long.” 

Oh, your poor heart. You shake your head, diverting the attention from you by brushing the strands of his hair that rest on his forehead back. 

“Blond?” 

“Kind of, yeah. It’s this… Honey something that my hairdresser suggested.” 

Humming, you let your fingernails scratch his scalp gently as they go down, hands resting on his shoulder when you’re done. “They did a great job,” you say before you click your tongue, cocking your head to the side. “Are you sure they weren’t just calling you honey and you misunderstood?” 

His brow lifts, the corner of his lips does as well and he’s ducking his head so he can speak in that cocky tone of his you’re so used to. Only this time, there’s an edge to it that sends a shiver down your spine. 

“And If they did?” 

You know what he’s asking, you know why he’s asking. You find yourself curious about this type of teasing on his behalf, so you allow it to happen.

In your own terms.

“Did it happen?” You return, leaning even closer, hands grasping the lapel of his suit jacket and tugging on it, pretending to smooth it out with your palms afterwards. 

“Princess…” 

When you look at him, there’s this fiery energy that crosses his expression and it makes your imagination run wild with possibilities. 

Now that you both got through the emotional part of your reunion with tears, with overdue confessions and very necessary apologies, what’s left to resolve is this pent up tension that’s always been something more. With the way Yunho behaves sometimes, so proud and tough, you have a vague idea of what it could be like. 

And it makes you giddy with anticipation. 

You would like to turn your assumptions into facts. So you play dumb, fakely perking up when he calls you, blinking with pretend innocence a few times to sell the act. “Hm?” 

Catching the way his jaw ticks at your behavior, you realize that the rush that went through your body every time you got under his skin was not out of the pleasure of winning. 

It was because you liked it. 

Very much so, that the way his eyes scan over your body like he's deciding what to do with you and your attitude make you let out a tiny puff of air that he drinks right up when he crowds you again, hands on your hips and lips on yours once more. 

His mouth doesn't move with any trace of carefulness anymore. Before, you were able to tell he needed to kiss you, longingly, with all the things he couldn't say before on his lips against yours. Now, his tongue makes its way past your teeth and swipes against yours in a way that makes you stumble backwards, almost leaving the tight squeeze of his hands behind. 

Yunho catches you, walks with you until you feel the arm of the tiny couch supporting your weight as well. 

He leans in a little bit to help you up on it, his body immediately in between your legs, his palms making their way downwards. One is on your lower back, thumb absentmindedly caressing the area, and the other one is pressing right next to your leg on the couch so he can bite your lower lip and give both your lungs a bit of a break before diving into your mouth again. You wrap your arms around his neck and keep him close. 

Closer, closer, closer. You need his body pressing against yours as you try to keep up with the intensity of his kisses. You've never been kissed like this before, never with so much love and passion and want and need. 

You've been kissed while drunk and touched while high in the past, you've been fucked by people you don't remember the names of and you had dropped the sleeping around once you graduated college. 

There's so much of your youth you wish you've done sober. Because now, when his tongue catches a soft moan and his hand moves from your lower back to your leg, under your robe, you don't know why you freak out. 

No, you know exactly why. 

Breaking the kiss, you take two seconds to look at the plush of Yunho’s lips after being deliciously smothered with yours. You're both breathing hard, chests rising and falling in tandem and gasps for air filling the room. 

His hand moves higher, measuring your reaction and you know he's about to ask if it's okay to touch you when you grab his wrist and stop his movements. 

“We don't have to—” 

“Is not that,” you say right away but you're both speaking over each other. 

“I mean, there's a lot we need to talk about. I want you to tell me about your trip and—” 

“Sure, we can do that later,” you nod. “Right now, I'm— I mean, let me turn off the light and you can touch me all you want.” 

He frowns. 

“What?” 

Heart picking up for a different reason now, you clear your throat and try to cough the anxiety away. You can talk to him about these things, it's okay. It doesn't really matter how embarrassed you feel once the words come out of your mouth. 

“Um, I went up a few pounds while on the trip and— And that's a good thing!” You say when he looks at you like he's about to tell you that it's okay. “I ate whatever I wanted, it was great, really. I just…” 

“You did?” He asks in a soft, excited whisper.

“I don't know if you'll, um, i-if you're going to like it.” You finish, blinking the shame away. 

Yunho’s expression softens and you take it as an agreement. You've only been touched in the dark, anyways, so you push into his chest a little bit and off his embrace (even if you don't really want to) and start moving towards the only light casting shadows on the room. 

Only to be tugged right back by a firm hand on your arm.

With his chest against you and his lips grazing your ear, you can barely help the way you shudder. There's something hard poking your ass and the apparent size of it has you gulping, salivating even. 

But you have to turn off the light. 

“Come here,” he murmurs and softly moves the both of you to stand in front of the mirror that's next to the entrance. 

Even if you tried not to, it's something you've been avoiding the whole time you've stayed here. The mirror is huge, floor to ceiling and its position it's very elegant, very fitting for the purpose of this suit that's supposed to be reserved for people who need different outfits for different events. 

You haven't really used it other than quickly checking your clothes earlier today, before leaving to go to the dorm and, even then, it was only a quick ten seconds.

It stings a little that, although you've made progress, your body and the way you perceive it still have such a grip on you. When you add the man your heart desires to the mix? Well, there's little to nothing you can do to let go of your insecurities.

The heat of Yunho's body leaves you for a second and he's turning another light, the one closest to the entrance, adjusting its intensity so the ambiance is not broken by the bright glow of it. 

You gulp again when he returns, but melt into his chest when he presses his body against yours again. 

How can you feel so comfortable with him but so uncomfortable with yourself? It's weird, it's strangely very you but you can't even tell him that because the intensity of his gaze when you catch it in the mirror shuts you right up. 

You know he's telling you to listen to him, to notice how serious he is about this as his chin rests on your shoulder. 

“I've called you ugly before, right? I've have actively contributed to your insecurities in a way that I'm not going to forgive myself for, ever,” he starts and the direct approach to it makes you teary eyed all over again. He notices, lips finding your shoulder to comfort you. “The thing is, Y/N, that I never actually meant it. I think I was pissed off because you were— and are so fucking beautiful.” 

You close your eyes and let out a pleading sigh “Yunho…” 

“No,” he says and you feel how he shakes his head, his chin still on your shoulder. “Someone needs to tell you this. You live in your head way too much.” 

He understands. 

You love him so much. 

“Open your eyes, princess.” 

You do. 

“Look at yourself.” 

You don't. You look at him instead. 

He's staring at you through the mirror and he straightens his back to rest his cheek against your temple, the height difference at his advantage because, this way you have to look up at him and it will give away the pure rejection you have for your reflection. 

“I don't think I've ever found someone as beautiful as I found you. When I realized that, that was what pissed me off… Well, I think I somehow buried the thought away but you are so breathtakingly pretty, Y/N.” He takes in a breath and you lose yours, his hand resting on your hip going up and tracing the curve of your waist. “But it doesn't really matter what I think, it matters what you think, hm?” 

Turning his head, his nose presses against your skin now and he leans in, nuzzling softly, with care, until his lips peck your jaw. 

“I can assure you that you can go up a hundred pounds, go down, up again and I wouldn't care. It doesn't matter, I have found you beautiful in every version that you have presented yourself in and I will find you beautiful if you change your whole appearance everyday. I love you,” he reminds you, “and I love everything that you bring along with you. Insecurities, panic attacks and clever insults to my clothing included.” 

The chuckle that you let out makes him smile against your cheek and he gives you a little peck before putting some space between your face and his. He looks you up and down in the mirror again and you can see genuine want in the way his pupils dilate. You see it happening in real time but then you also see his self-restraint. 

You're at a loss for words, but manage to mumble out “Thank you, Yunho.” And then you turn your head, catching his lips in a soft closed mouth kiss that he returns right away. 

“Whenever you're ready to let me prove how beautiful I find you, I'll be here.” He says when you let his mouth move away from yours, your lips softly pecking his jaw instead and getting a sigh in return. “I can wait.” 

Then, the worst thing happens: His hands leave your body and he starts to step away. 

It's a little embarrassing how quickly your entire being protests and you realize that there's a clinginess to you that you're not so sure where it came from. You reach for him, barely turning, and tug him right where he was. 

Looking at him through the mirror again, you enjoy the genuine surprise on his expression and the way it turns into desire when you put his hands on you again: on your stomach, on your hip. 

When you turn your head to look at him directly, his eyes stay fixated on the reflection. His hand on your stomach turns, knuckles softly caressing you. You want to ask him what he likes about that but don't, instead, you tell him what goes on inside your head. 

“Yunho, I do want you. I want you… But I also want to make sure that you like me.” 

He looks at you then, mouth ready to reassure you again but you shake your head to shut him up. 

“I heard you,” you confirm, smiling a bit and then closing your eyes at the visage that accompanies the concept of your body in your mind. You know it's far from what it actually looks like but that also means that you don't know exactly what it looks like and that's terrifying. “I know you love me but would you like me?” 

“I do,” you hear the frown in his voice and take a deep breath before opening your eyes again. “Princess, do you trust me?” 

You nod without a second thought and he leans in, nose almost touching yours. 

“Would you let me show you how much I like you?”

It takes a second or two, but you nod again.

“And would you let me know if it's too much?” 

“Yes,” you breath out, too intoxicated by the closeness, by the way his lips softly trace yours without actually kissing them to think about the implication of his words. 

When he pulls away again, you let out a sound that gives away how much you want him. Yunho’s lips curve and when your eyes finally focus on his again, you can see the quick decision he makes as he looks at the mirror again, resolve and purpose in his expression as he takes off the jacket of his three piece, tossing it on the sofa. 

There's something magnetic in the way he rolls his sleeves up, securing them in his forearms and your eyes follow the motions and trace the veins that you're able to see before he turns away from you. 

He takes one of the chairs he's able to easily mov, placing it behind you both. You realize you've walked a few steps closer to the mirror, and so your back is pressed against it when his attention returns to you, when he takes your face with his hands and crushes his lips against yours without explaining what he just did. 

You brace himself on his forearms, nails pressing on his skin because somehow this kiss feels different. Its pace is not hard to keep up with but it feels like you are, the care he puts in his movements as his palms brush your hair back slowly and then go down, down until they're reaching the knot that keeps your robe closed. 

This time, instead of panic, you feel your stomach flutter. Butterflies all over, there's goosebumps on your skin when he tugs the robe open and feels the satin of your pajamas with his fingers. He makes a noise and, at first, you think it's out of protest because you're not already undressed for him.

But then his knuckles trace the hem of the nightgown and he makes the noise again, tongue flicking against yours harder, getting a moan out of you.

Yunho’s lips find your cheek, your jaw, nipping at the skin of your neck and over your pulse when he gets to it and you close your eyes, head falling against the mirror and head moving to the side so he can kiss every inch of skin if he wants. 

“You smell so fucking good.” 

That makes you smile, a droopy curve to your lips before you bite a sound back “I showered.” 

“You always do,” he whispers into your skin, lips finding your ear. “You always have. Do you know how many times I had to control myself around you?” 

“Hm,” you muse, pretending to think about it. “Do you know how many times you had to?” 

“Oh, trust me princess, I know.” 

He pulls back and you open your eyes. You wonder if yours are carrying the same intensity as his when they go down your body, taking your sleepwear in. 

It's a simple blue v-neck slip dress with some floral lace at the trim lines. It splits on the sides and falls mid-thigh. Something very basic in your opinion, but you don't miss the way his eyes are glued to the skin of your thigh. You're not wearing a bra and your nipples are painfully hard. 

“I didn't actually expect you to come to me tonight,” you lie a little, lips turning up into a shy smile. “So I didn't—” 

“Is this what you wear to sleep?” He interrupts and you watch him gulp. 

“Mhm.” 

“Every night?” 

“Something like this,” you tug at the fabric, softly, “yes.” 

“Fuck.” 

You giggle in return at how affected he seems, but the amusement dies when his eyes return to yours. Holding your hand, he takes a step back and then another and another until he's falling with a thump on the chair he brought close. 

He takes you in one more time before letting go of your hand and manspreading on the chair “Come here, princess.” 

The tone of his voice makes your entire being shake and you take in a breath before following his command. Which is crazy because you never, ever would've followed an order from him. 

But now you can't help yourself. 

Standing in between his legs, you can see when he holds the arms of it after attempting to touch you as soon as you get close enough for him to be able to reach you and, when you're about to straddle his lap, he shakes his head and clicks his tongue in response. 

You understand what he wants immediately and you turn around, watching your reflection in the mirror as you sit down on his legs that he managed to close again in the three seconds it took you to do so. 

You're breathing hard by the time he accommodates you both on the chair, his very clear erection pressing against your ass and lower back and making you dizzy at what you're looking at. 

The image on the mirror is clear, it allows you to see both your reaction and his reaction when you fidget without thinking about it on his lap and the friction it causes brings you a whisper of pleasure. 

“You're a dream, Y/N,” he says and you can tell it came out of his mouth without really thinking about it. Finally, he moves his hands and his nails press on the skin of your shoulders, goosebumps evident and tremor barely concealable when he drags them down the length of your arm and over your hands that rest on top of your knees. 

He covers them with his and you stop following his movements in the mirror to look at his face “Can I?” 

You swallow and then nod and he giggles, this hard facade he has on slipping as he presses a reassuring kiss to your shoulder “Can you say it, my love?” 

“Yes,” you say quickly, your voice betraying you “Please.” 

He closes his eyes, a curse under his breath. “Don't beg me, princess, I got you.” 

You can't help but be curious and, although this is something you can find out as the night goes on, you end up wondering out loud either way: “Why? You don't like it?” 

He shakes his head, that hardness in his expression returns when he opens his eyes to look at you and the curious glint of your expression through the mirror. 

“Do you enjoy it when I beg you, Yunho?” 

And then you slightly move on his lap, trying to pass it like an absentminded movement. 

He sees right through it and the realization shows on his face. 

“Ah,” he laughs, back falling against the chair and head lolling back, “are you going to be a brat, princess?” 

Your mouth quirks at the quick and accurate read he gives your attitude. 

“Of course you are.” 

Again, the bravery your amusement gives you is short lived. He uses his hands over yours to open your legs and his, fast, earning a surprised squeak out of you. Your first instinct is attempting to close them but he huffs and perches your legs on his. You loop your feet around them to avoid falling forward at the lack of things to hold on to. 

This way, your panties are on full display as well. They're simple cotton white panties and there's a wet patch in the middle of them that grows a little at the display, at the image you see in the mirror. 

Yunho curses under his breath again. 

“You're my dream,” he says, a little bit distracted again and then he remembers himself. “I don't like people begging me, I don't give them the time to.” 

Raising your eyebrows, you're about to protest because you don't want to hear about his encounters with anyone else, but he won't let you. 

“One time, I almost had a fight with a friend over teasing. You know her, Mingi's girlfriend,” he says and you don't know if he's smiling at the memory or at the way you squirm under his touch when his fingernails start dragging over the skin of your inner thighs slowly. “I told her the truth: I'm too impatient to tease. She said it's necessary, I said I never needed to tease anyone to get with them and it went on for almost an hour.” 

He reaches the plush that has formed on your inner thighs and you can physically feel your centre growing wetter. 

“I never got it,” he insists and, when he pretends that he's going to touch you where you need it the most only for his touch to go back down the expanse of your thighs, you let out dissatisfied huff. “Now I think I do.” 

“Yunho…”

“You wanted to beg?” He asks, mouth against your ear and hot breath on your cheek. “I can make you beg.” 

You give in almost immediately. 

“Please,” tongue wetting your lips, you attempt to move in order to get some sort of relief but he's quicker than you. Strong hands hold your hips steady and you puff out some air again. “Please touch me.” 

It's clear the whine on your voice affects him because he pants against your cheek, nudges your face with his nose and then dives with his lips to kiss your neck again. 

“Be still, princess.” He commands and you stop trying to wiggle against him, only to rest your back against his chest when he brings his hands down in a caress and holds you fully open for him again. “I got you, but do as I say.” 

He takes your nod as an answer this time and his lips travel down your neck, to the skin of your back and then your shoulder. You watch in the mirror as his teeth catch the strap of your nightgown and, when he speaks again, it's a little muffled because of it.

“Can I take this off you?” 

You take a breath before replying “Yes.” 

And then he slips the strap off your shoulder with his teeth and you swear you're ruined for everyone else entirely. 

There's no way anyone is going to make you tremble like he did just now.

He goes ahead and does the same to the other strap, hand quick in catching the gown from falling completely. 

“Should I?” 

“Yunho… Stop teasing me.” 

He chuckles and takes his time to redo what he just undone: he pulls the strap on your left shoulder up again, switches the hand that's holding your second to last piece of clothing up, and does the same to the other strap. 

“But you look so pretty in it.” 

Your skin heats up harder than ever before. 

“You look so pretty like this, all breathless and ready for me to touch you… Do you know how happy it makes me that I can touch you, princess? That you’re in my lap and not in my head?” 

You swallow back a whine “Y-you thought about me like this?” 

“I dreamed about you like this,” he kisses the nape of your neck and then focuses his attention on the shoulder he neglected before, “for months.” 

You hum in acknowledgement at his words, but your mind is elsewhere because his hands return to their ministrations on your inner thighs and it's hard to concentrate on anything else but the pad of his thumbs ghosting over your panties as they move. 

He finally concedes and lets his hands wander upwards until they get ahold of the hem of the nightgown and, in one swift movement, you're left in nothing but your underwear in front of him. 

Well, in front of the mirror. He's watching the reflection of your body carefully and you can barely spare a look at it, breath caught in your throat at his reaction. 

When he sees your naked torso, he fully lets out a moan. 

You feel slick rush out of you at the sound but don't turn to yourself to verify what exactly about you made him react that way, made him get even harder against your ass. 

“God, look at you.” 

Breathing hard, you turn your head slightly so that your nose touches his and you think he's about to drop it, give in and kiss you when you feel his thumb and index pressing against your cheek, turning your head to the reflection again. 

“Is this okay?” 

You know he's referring to the hold on your face and you mumble out a yes, still looking at him through the mirror. 

“I said, look at yourself.” 

You do. 

Legs open and still perched on top of his, white panties turning a little see through due to your arousement and nipples pebbled in full display, you allow yourself to enjoy the two seconds of clarity before your body starts to shape shift in your head, before your thoughts turn you undesirable and before you fall into your dysmorphia. 

Yunho is right there to catch you, though. 

“Do you know how lucky I am that you're even allowing me to see you like this, Y/N?” 

The hold on your face relaxes and you follow the movement of his hand, down until it settles on your throat, relaxed, not even putting any pressure. 

“Still okay?” 

You nod. 

He puts in slight pressure now and, when you moan, he chuckles but doesn't say anything to acknowledge what makes him laugh. Instead, his hand keeps descending until his fingers rests in between your breasts and then he softly cups one of them, thumb passing over your nipple and making you jump at the sudden contact before letting go. 

“So fucking pretty. You see this?” His fingers take hold of the skin of your tummy that connects with the curve of your waist and he pinches slightly, making you squirm and tickling you a bit. “Everything you are, everything you have makes my heart beat,” he kisses your shoulder again, “and my dick hard,” and again, “and makes me want to prove to you that there's no one in this world that can come close to you, not in my eyes, my love.” 

Oh, my God. 

He says it in a way that makes you want to believe him. And, deep down, you know you do. 

Even though it's complicated, even though it takes effort to make years and years of self-loathing disappear, you know you can try. 

Because you desperately yearn to see yourself from Yunho's point of view. 

This time, when you turn to kiss him, he doesn't put up any restraint. His dominant mask slips off of him for just a second when you grab his face, pliant mouth moving at the rhythm and pace yours is marking, a whine getting muffled with your tongue. 

He gives your legs rest, closing his legs (and, in consequence, yours as well) and, when you tug at his hair so you can mark his neck down at the weird position you're in, he groans and you want to smile but he's searching your lips before you can even leave a bruise on his skin. 

“I love you, I love the way you think about me, I love what you make me want to think about me,” you assure him when you pull back to look at him. His cheeks are red and his lips are swollen and you love the way they're parted as he recovers his breath. 

“Lesson learned?” 

“Mhm,” you kiss his lips again and take the hand resting your waist, bringing it down to your clothed sex so he can feel how wet you are “now please, would you touch me?” 

“Fuck, you really do love to beg, hm?” He says and it's breathy, like he can't actually believe, and he doesn't give you time to respond because he's already kissing you again. “Let's go to bed.” 

“W-wait.” 

“Yeah?” 

The way you glance at the mirror is a dead giveaway of what you truly want. It makes him take in a sharp breath and grab your face in between his hands, fascination written all over his expression. 

“Do you want to watch when I touch you?”

You breathe out a moan in response.

“You want to watch yourself while I make you come?” 

A little shy but with resolve, you nod. 

He curses. 

Next thing you know, your legs are perched over his again and they’re wide open. Your arms fly back to hold onto him, onto anything that helps you not fall on your face but then his perfect, veiny hand presses on your torso and you fall back comfortably into his embrace again. 

He wastes no time, lips marking a path from your shoulder to your neck and fingers ghosting your clit over your panties and you whimper, impatience making you move against his crotch and making him grunt at the friction. 

“I k-know you just s-said you just discovered the joy of t-teasing but can you please do somet— Fuck!” 

His thumb presses on your bundle of nerves over the cotton and you can’t help but shake. 

It has been a while since you’ve even touched yourself truly, with want and need behind. It’s been a while since someone else touched you there, period, so the sensation feels new and you kind of feel like an overly inexperienced woman with the way you can’t help the immediate build up when he starts moving his thumb.  

It’s electric and you notice that your eyes closed the second he touched you, so you remember yourself. You remember what you asked for, what you actually want to see. 

When you open them again and look at Yunho, you find him already looking at you. His parted lips turn into a proud smile when he catches your eye and he nods, kisses trailing up to your ear, teeth nipping at the skin. 

“Good girl.” 

Fuck. 

He stops his movements to let his index, middle and ring finger cup your sex entirely, press into the fabric and let it soak with your arousal. You see in the mirror and you watch, with fascination, how he manages to twist the cotton to the side and expose your pussy for you both to see with the same hand. 

“You’re so wet, princess, I bet you taste so good…” 

Your brain short circuits and malfunctions when he finally touches you without anything in between his skin and yours. His index reaches out and collects the evidence of how much 

you want him, of how much you want him and you moan when the fabric snaps against your pussy when he lets go of it. 

“Do you?”

He toys with the stickiness on with his fingers, rubs it in between them and then brings his hand up so you’re able to see it without the mirror’s help. 

“Look at me,” you do, obedient, “and open up.” 

You open your mouth and allow his fingers to get in and rest against your tongue. You suck out of instinct, eyes never leaving his, and he gulps as he watches you taste yourself until your arousal transfers from his fingers to your tongue. 

“Let me taste it now.” 

Licking into his mouth, the fingers that were previously on yours settle on your throat, not allowing you to fully lean in and kiss him like you want but, instead, letting him have control of it. 

You swear you see stars when he sucks his tongue into his mouth and he hums, pleased with the taste. 

“You taste so fucking good.” 

Letting you go, you’re breathing hard when he pushes you a bit to put some distance between the both of you. 

“Get up and take these off.” He snaps the elastic of your panties and the sting against your skin makes you whine. 

You can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything but wait for him to lead your actions and the consensual loss of control feels so freeing that it makes you dizzy. So you oblige, getting off his lap and allowing him to turn you around so that your ass faces the mirror. When you look at him, he’s looking at the reflection and not you, so you decide, with a boost of confidence because of the hunger in his eyes, to give him a little show. 

You bend over, forehead almost touching his chest and proceed to take off your underwear that way. You open your legs a little, giving him a clear view of it when the fabric falls from your legs and pools at your ankles and, when you twist your head to the side to look at his reaction, his tongue is out and licking his bottom lip like he’s starving for it. 

For the first time ever, you feel both sexy and desired at the same time. 

He reaches for your ass in a way you’re not so sure it’s calculated and you fall fully into his chest with a soft moan when he opens you up for him even more. 

“So hot,” he says, low, under his breath, like he’s not even thinking before he speaks and he lets his fingernails drag on your skin (something you’re learning he enjoys doing and that you also like, a lot) until his hands fall to his knees again. “Fuck.” 

He still hasn’t even touched you properly and you already feel drunk on his touch. You feel that way, at least, when you prop your hands against his chest and push yourself up. He turns you around quickly, sits you on his lap with your legs open again and sighs. 

“I’m not going to make you beg for it anymore when all I want to do is watch you come, princess.” 

Arm around your middle, he presses you flush against his chest and takes your right hand in his. It allows you to let go of the grasp you have on him a little and, when he guides your own fingers to your pussy, you get why. 

“Show me how you like it.”

You feel lewd, exposed and dirty in a way you never thought you would enjoy. But here you are, craving 

“Yunho…”

“Show me,” he insists, “so I can learn.” 

Isn’t it a little bit funny that he sounds like he’s the one begging you when he speaks? 

You show him. Starting with collecting a bit of your slick, you drag a finger upwards from your entrance to your clit and then, only when you can see it fully glistening in the mirror, is when you press down and caress it in circular motions that send electricity through you right away. 

As you do with everything, this is something that, although you don’t really have time to even think about doing most of the days, you have perfected. There’s a science to it, a method that you’ve discovered via need and lust and that has never been so thoroughly explored than right now. 

It’s like you have kept your needs like a nasty little secret inside of your heart, just like you did with your love for Yunho, and you’re letting it all out. 

You pick up the pace, alternating from circles to side to side motions and the pleasure quickly becomes overwhelming. Or have you been touching yourself for him for minutes now? Time disappears in every sound you unconsciously let out, it blends with the glint of passion in Yunho’s eyes and it dissolves in an orgasm that quickly takes over you and shakes you forward. 

“That’s it,” he mutters with his lips against your temple and his hands holding you steady. “Now’s my turn.” 

He replaces his hands with yours, bats your fingers away when you try to prolong your pleasure and takes over at a relentless pace, overstimulating you.

It goes on like that for a minute or so where you shake and you readjust in his lap and you shake again when he bucks your hips and you feel him firm against your ass. You desperately want to help him feel this way, too, but there’s only so much you can do when he teases your entrance with his index and finds you relaxed enough to put it in slowly. 

Slowly until it glides in and out smoothly and you hold onto your forearm, and whimper and his name spilling from your lips in bliss when his ring finger joins. You hope you don’t look too delirious, you wish you’re not making a fool of yourself for feeling the heat pool on your lower belly so quickly again. 

“Oh, yes, yes, I’m—” 

“Don’t look at me or what I’m doing, look at yourself.”

Huh?

“W-what?”

“Watch yourself come,” he reiterates, breathless and, when you disobey and look at him through the reflection, he’s already focused on your face, mouth hanging open and brows furrowed with determination. “I want you to see how beautiful you look coming all over my fingers, Y/N.” 

He curves them upwards and the sensation somehow intensifies “Shit.” 

“Come, Y/N.”

You’re not sure if you’re able to prove his words to be true. When you come undone, you’re looking at yourself and in the mirror is someone you don’t exactly recognize. Someone you don’t perceive as yourself because, yes, the person staring back at you is beautiful. And that person looks sexy and sensual and is glowing with pleasure written all over their face but they’re not someone you have categorized in your brain as you. 

And then you understand. This raw, pure, unfiltered state of you is something you hadn’t reached before. Naturally, you had never seen yourself come. And you hadn’t been handled with so much care through an orgasm before, so you lived it fully and then, only when you stop shaking and your legs fall from his and your feet are on the floor, holding your weight steady, is when you allow yourself to look away from your reflection and turn to the man responsible for the best orgasm of your life. 

His lips are quivering, his eyes are closed and his chest rises and falls against your shoulder as he holds you to him. 

“You… Jeong Yunho…” 

He smiles, probably at the way your voice trembles and gives away just how fucked out you already are, but he doesn’t open his eyes  “Yes?” 

“My turn.” 

When he opens his eyes, you’re already standing up in front of him, his hands shifting on your body, the fingers that just made you see stars leaving a wet trail on your skin before they settle on your stomach. 

And, although he seemed tough and dominant just a minute ago, he puts no resistance when you grab his arm and make him stand up as well. You get on your tippy toes to nuzzle his nose with yours and he holds onto you again as you stumble backwards, towards the bedroom. 

“You’re too dressed, Jeong.” 

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy me in a dress shirt,” he says, a smug smile in his lips when your back hits a wall and he presses his body to yours, “prepping you to take my coc— F-fuck, princess.”

Your hand teasing his erection over the fabric of his expensive pants is enough to shut him up. Good, you already let him have his fun (and yours, by consequence) and, even if you enjoyed the loss of control, there’s something equal parts rewarding and hot about winning it back with the simple press of your thumb where you believe his leaking tip is. 

“You’re too overconfident sometimes, Jeong,” you whisper against his lips and it may be your two amazing orgasms or the way you love to have something over him, a little bit of power at least, that make you overly confident right now as well. He puckers out to kiss you but you don’t budge. “Want to see if you prepped me right?” 

It’s a question for consent. You have to make sure he wants you this way, too. That this is fun for him, too. And when he pauses your heart feels like it stops for a second, just like time. 

But right after there’s this quiet agreement you both come to and his mouth devours yours as you move in tandem, in coordinated effort to undress him: You loosen his belt and work on the button of his pants while he unbuttons his shirt and both your feet move with synchronized steps until he’s falling on the bed and you’re getting on your knees in front of him. 

He, however, stops you with a hand caressing your face softly. 

“Later,” he mutters with a soft smile that’s laced with something passionate and lewd you feel you’re about to discover. He leans in, teeth catching your bottom lip and pulling until you’re whining and you taste a little blood on your mouth. “I need to fuck you right now.” 

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. You do however make sure to peel his underwear off him while you’re on your knees, the size of him making you wet and ready all over again.

When you stand up, he grabs your tired legs to pull you closer. It feels like a pause in the middle of passionate urgency, but when he takes his time to kiss under your belly button and the expanse of your hips, you feel like it only adds fuel to the fire. 

The fact that he’s even taking the time to explore you makes you want to combust.

“Oh.” He bites you right over your hip bone and you take his hair into your fingers, pulling him back. “Y-you said you needed to fuck me?” 

“I do,” he laughs against your skin and then leans back, taking him with you and you let him, falling on your side before he pushes you against the mattress, body covering yours and palms touching you all over. “I just enjoy taking my time with you.” 

“I can see that, Jeong.” 

He’s distracted again within the second, looking down your body and taking you in like it’s the first time he’s seeing you even though he had a clear view of you and your pussy in the mirror five minutes ago.

And there’s this urge that takes over you, you can’t even fight the words that come out your mouth next.

“Make love to me.” 

He pauses again and then your words register in his brain, you can see the exact moment they hit him and you think you see him tear up a little before he blinks the deep emotion away to focus on the moment. You have to do the same. 

“I will. Every day of my life, if you ask me to, if I’m so lucky to.”

The rest of the night, from the moment he says those words, kisses you and moves you so you’re in the middle of the bed, it all passes in slow motion. 

And it all passes really fast, too. 

Yunho makes love to you. He enters you while looking into your eyes and whispering how much he loves you against your lips and you say it back. He holds your hand as his hips move and his length drags deliciously inside of you. He marks your chest with his lips and your heart with his love and he closes his hands over yours when his pace picks up and he allows to lose himself in the moment too. 

You make love to him as you push him onto his back, his pretty face all flushed, the pink coloring his neck and his chest where you hand rest as you ride him and watch his control slip from him, as you memorize his moans and grunts and as your walls squeeze him in before coming again on his cock and it only takes to firm, hard strides for him to spill himself inside of you as well, the prove of your love making spilling out of you a little when he holds you to his chest and he pulls out of you, both of you sated, both of you in love. 

It feels like an hour has passed when someone speaks again, the silence in the room comfortable and accompanied by the beats of both your hearts. In reality, it’s only been around ten minutes where you’ve closed your eyes and breathed the remnants of Yunho’s cologne, cheek pressed against his chest and his fingers drawing random figures on your naked back. 

You decide to break the silence when you remember something. 

“I think they forgot my room service.” 

There’s a pause and then Yunho is laughing loudly and it makes you smile. His chest vibrates and you can see, on your peripheral, how he covers his eyes with his forearm. 

“I’m being serious, I ordered like three hours ago.” 

“Maybe they knocked and we didn’t hear them,” he mumbles tiredly and you finally look up, chin pressed where your cheek was a second ago. “We were pretty… Busy.” 

“That’s worse, Jeong!” 

“Why?” He asks, genuinely clueless and then it clicks for him. He brings down his arm and opens his eyes wide with shame. “Oh, my God.” 

“Mhm.” 

“How are you going to look the receptionist in the eye?” 

“She knows me, too. She asked me to take a picture with her  when I check out.”

Yunho sighs and says nothing. He looks at you, hand on your back moving until it reaches your face and he lets his knuckles trace your nose in a way that makes you scrunch it. 

“I forgot you were famous.” 

“We both are,” you w-hisper back, lips forming a thin line as you think. “I mean, if someone leaks that we’re both here, it won’t look weird because we’re supposed to be together.” 

“Supposed to?” He frowns. 

“Well, yes, to the public at least.” 

Yunho pouts. 

He pouts and your stomach twists and turns with nerves and butterflies. You’re joking, kind of. 

“Are you not my girlfriend, Y/N?” 

Oh, he’s adorable. It’s so easy to tease him when you’re both not at each other’s throat. 

You wonder if you’ll ever have a fight again, your heart weak for him even when you try to keep the joke going. 

“I haven’t been asked to be anyone’s girlfriend…” 

The deadpan expression that follows your quip breaks your resolve entirely and you laugh, hiding your face on his chest as he mumbles something you don’t catch. 

“What?” You look up at him again. 

“I said that you’re annoying and that you are my girlfriend.” 

“No, I think you said that you love me.”

There’s something so reassuring in the way the annoyance disappears from his expression and it’s replaced by something sweet and he looks like he can barely fight the words back when he replies with: “Yeah, I do.” 

You hum, happy with his response “I thought so.” 

Pressing your cheek against his skin again, there’s only two seconds of silence before his hand is on your shoulder and shaking your body. 

“Say it back, Y/N.” 

“So needy,” you tease and he shakes you again, groaning, so you sigh and pull away from his body to sit up a little. “I love you too.” 

He leans into your space, a blissful smile curving his lips before he pecks your mouth in a sweet, short kiss “Good,” he whispers, falling against the pillows and dragging your body with his so that you’re resting against the soft material as well. “When did you come back?” 

“A week ago.” 

“Hm,” his hands return to your body, fingernails dragging softly up and down your arm, “your family doesn’t know.” 

At the mention of them, you close your eyes and squeeze, reality washing over you. 

“I’m sure my mother does.” 

“She doesn’t,” he assures you, “she would’ve mentioned it by now and she only talks about the project you’re going to lead once you’re back.” 

You open your eyes “What project?” 

“I’m not sure,” he says softly, “I thought you were already leading one?” 

“Something like that,” you nod. “I, um… Was networking in a way, gathering new information on new companies to invest in and help their growth. Small business with original concepts that we can boost or help bring to the city and all of that.” 

“Did you have fun on the trip?” 

“Yeah,” you answer truthfully, “I did. I met a lot of people, I visited places I never even knew existed, I also learned a lot about myself and about what I want… And I got away from Satan for a while.” 

He knows you mean your mom, so he snorts out a laugh and shakes his head at the jab. 

“I missed you a lot, though.” 

His amusement dies slowly but happiness remains on his face. You’re sure yours is a reflection of his, as well. 

“I missed you too,” he answers in a murmur and you nuzzle the hand that reaches your cheek before giving it a kiss. “I’m glad you had fun and it sounds like being away helped but… Never do it again.” 

“Oh?” You try to tease but he insists. 

“Never leave without telling me again, please,” his whisper sounds like a plea and your heart beats louder. “I’ll miss you too much.” 

There’s an impulse, a need that soars through your blood. “I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get away again but, when I do, you can go with me.” 

“I will,” he answers right away and at the confirmation that you want him there with you, you see the tension slip away from his features, “my bags are already packed and all.” 

“I bet they are,” eyes rolling back in annoyance, you press a palm on his chest and push him a little. “Needy.” 

“Shut up.” 

There’s a lot of things to talk about. A lot of things you want to tell him, to mention, to bring up and discuss with him. Like what happens after you leave this bubble you’re floating in, if you tell your brother and his right away, if he’s going to tell his friends or wait until you’re a little far along in the friendship to do so. 

You have to ask him if he wants to tell your parents like… Ever. You’re not so sure you even want to. 

But he shuffles and moves until his naked chest is against yours and his hands are around your body, chin resting on the top of your head as he yawns. 

There’s this feeling of calmness that washes over you as you consider that, maybe, this can be the way you fall asleep from now on. No sleeping or sleepless nights, just Yunho’s embrace and his steady breathing above you, the beat of his heart, a lullaby that lulls you until your eyes are closing and tiredness takes over your senses. 

This time, you dream about a future together and nothing more. 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated and please remember the next part it's much shorter and would be the end of this mini series!

© jensthwa, 2025.

[occasionalsnippets]

Ngl i can imagine FD MC dumping an iced coffee on bruce while he's working on cases bc he hasn't slept for days and just going

"Your coffee, Bruce."

"...thank you."

(I love this au sm omg)

A/n: set during the early Tim Robin days

Taglist: @dragondevinity, @lonely-star2044, @sheep-from-rad, @ilxandra, @thethingwiththefeathers, @star-wars-lycanwing-bat, @sackofsadstuff, @zonked-times, @paastaboi, @venfia, @fantasy-angelo, @linaisadream, @shirp-collector-of-fixations, @roseapov, @alittletiredcry

—

The ever present fluttering of bats greet you as you descend into the batcave, two small bags in one hand and a hot mug in the other. Your sweater does little to protect you from the frostiness. There still aren’t any railings, you note as you head deeper in.

Mr. Wayne- Bruce Wayne- Batman- sits by the batcomputer, laser focussed on the recent case, some drug that’s been hitting Crime Alley, that has taken over him. You’ve counted the hours, the case first popped up beginning of the week and he hasn’t left the cave in three days.

You set the mug down on the table. There are two thermoses and four cups resting there already. The scent of coffee lingers. Mr. Wayne turns his head ever so slightly to look at you. Illuminated by the bright screen, his dark circles look deeper than they’ve ever been.

"Hot chocolate from Mr. Pennyworth,” you tell him.

He blinks slowly. “Not coffee?”

World’s greatest detective, everyone.

“Obviously not. You haven’t slept in three days.”

“There was a case.”

“And you, what, couldn’t leave the cave and go upstairs for three days to deal with it?” You raise an eyebrow.

“It’s urgent.”

“You’re using it as an excuse to destroy yourself.”

His jaw tightens and he turns to stare back at the data displayed on screen and begins typing. Rude but you didn’t expect this to be easy.

“Mr. Wayne. Here is what is going to happen.” Your finger curl around the handle of the mug. “Either I pour this hot chocolate directly onto the keyboard and your costume or you go wash up, I send the info to Oracle and we can both go upstairs to drink hot chocolate and sleep.”

You hope he does not make you have to do things the hard way.

“Choose.”

He does not waver beneath the weight of your heavy stare but he does stop typing. He still does not answer.

“Mr. Wayne,” you sigh and start lifting up the mug.

“15 more minutes,” he bargains.

“5.”

“10.”

“5 or I pour this over you and tell Mr. Pennyworth not to replace what you’ve wasted.”

“Fine. 5 minutes.”

“And then you’ll go wash up.”

“And then I’ll go wash up,” he agrees.

“Also, unclench your jaw,” you tap the side of his cheek and order, “unless you want to develop bruxism.”

His face shifts and settles. “… Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

The five minutes pass in silence. He does not solve the case, obviously, but an agreement is an agreement and you push him off to the showers when time is up. The bag you brought down with a change of clothes is left by the showers while you go clean up the batcomputer.

First, email to Oracle with the case information. Second, gather up the thermoses and mugs into your second bag to bring upstairs so Alfred can finally clean them. Third, wipe down the table.

By the time you are finished, Mr. Wayne has exited, fully dried off and dressed in the pyjamas you picked out instead of the batsuit. He remembered to dry his hair today. Better than two months ago when you struggled to even make sure he wouldn’t drown in a bathtub, accidentally or not.

“Hold onto the hot chocolate, we’ll warm it up again upstairs.” You motion towards the only mug left on the table. “C’mon.”

And so the two of you ascend, back to the warmth of Wayne manor where Mr. Pennyworth and Tim are resting soundly in the night. And as you lead the way, Mr. Wayne reaches forward and grasps your hand, slowly, uncertainly, like a child seeking comfort in the dark.

[aernx]

IT'S A WRAP ! ⌗ 이희승 ( THE TEASER )

synopsis ⟢ wrapping is easy when it comes to dumplings. but when it comes to your feelings…not so much. after getting separated from your childhood nemesis, lee heeseung, you think your life will go smooth like butter (js like what BTS sang). but fate has other plans when he was forced to help around in your family’s dumpling restaurant.

◌ wordcount﹒ tba

◌ pairing﹒ lee heeseung x fmr

◌ genre﹒ childhood enemies to lovers, hs au, takes place in their summer break, reader is taehyun’s (txt) older sister

◌ featuring﹒ txt, chaewon lsrfm, enhypen, brief mentions of other idols

◌ warnings﹒ profanities/cursing, heeyn annoyed at eo lol, lots of cursing guys

read full fic HERE

aerinotes ⟢ teaser!! I will post the fic in a week or two! COMMENT or SEND AN ASK to be added in the taglist. This is my first long fic, hope it piqued your interest! (for ppl who didn't know this concept used to be a smau but it's disc)

ONE WEEK HAS PASSED since you were forced to be Heeseung's mentor in your family's dumpling shop and you are now used to seeing him lurk around the area. Now that he’s already familiar with the register and serving people you have to go to the next step: teach him how to make dumplings.

At first, you were against the idea. But your mom insisted that Mrs.Lee wanted Heeseung to be more adapt than any other employee. Hence why he needed to master more than one skill to manage. So, you gave in.

Heeseung was ready to start his new routine. Coming to the shop everyday (excluding Sundays and Saturdays) at 8am and start preparing the register and other things before opening at 9am. He’ll be honest, the first few days, he was dreading it. But eventually, being surrounded with the busy yet calming atmosphere of the shop feels so comfortable? Or maybe because he was spending his summer productively. 

But yesterday, Yn had messaged him to arrive at the shop an hour earlier than usual. Seven am?! That’s basically dawn! Heeseung dragged his feet towards the welcoming door. The sun greeted him with a morning glow as he slowly entered his demise. 

“Morning, sunshine. Are you awake?” Sitting in one of the chairs, you chuckled, amused at his hunched silhouette. 

“You’re crazy for forcing me to work this early on. This is basically child labor!” He sat opposing you, hands folded above the table as he buried his head in between his arms. 

“Well your mother consented to this. Get up, lazy.” Your request was left hanging as Heeseung replied an audible “no”, prompting you to leave the boy behind.

Droplets of water soon trickled to the back of his neck, stirring him awake before he-hold on why was he wet? His fingers touched the source of coldness, upon realizing what you have done, his head jolted up meeting your gaze. ”You’re fucking crazy!”

“Awake now?” The smirk on your lips is evident and Heeseung swore that he was going to rip your face off.

-

“What are we doing?” Instead of answering, you hand a slightly-damp Heeseung an apron and ushered him to wash his hands before starting. “Just go wash your hands first.” He rolled his eyes before complying to your demands.

After finishing with such tasks he returned to his position beforehand. “All clean now.” He dangled his palms to align with your vision. Now that the two of you are clean it's time to start this mission. Wrapping dumplings.

Heeseung eyes lingered on the swift movement of your fingers. Quick hands easily wrap the ball of meat between a thin layer of dough. He shifted his attention elsewhere for a second and when he returned, you were already done with the process. The perfectly wrapped mandu sat in the heart of your palms, sitting proudly before him.

“That doesn’t look hard, let me do it.” The boy shrugged, earning an amused scoff from you. He took the initiative to try it for himself, but before he could reach the layers of thin dough, he felt a slight sting lingering on his arm. “Gosh! What was that for?!” 

“Do you ever pay attention? Lace your hands with some flour before taking the dough so it’s not sticky, bambi.” 

Bambi? Did you just refer to him as a Disney cartoon animal?! Well sucks to be you at least he was a Disney character. Not some meaningless being. 

“Crazy bitch.” 

“What did you say?!”

“I said I got the hitch!” Was hitch even a word? Probably. Or not.

Heeseung grudgingly dipped his fingers into the bowl of flour before spreading a light amount in his palms. He then took a thin layer of dough and a little ball of minced meat mixed with onions and other dumpling stuffings(?). He placed the ball in the center of the surface before…before…uhm what was the next step again?

His hands froze mid air for a second. Should he ask for help? Oh and get roasted for not paying attention again? No thanks, his ego was too big for that. Right he’ll figure this out. This is Lee Heeseung we’re talking about. Lee Heeseung vs dumpling, let’s see who’ll win this game.

The tall boy recalled your hand movements, trying hard to remember the steps you did. Right it was uhm….take the left corner, then the right, unite them to the center? Yeah that right. Next is…squish the edges! He’s too smart and talented for this. Heeseung 1, dumpling 0.

The satisfied smile he wore was so apparent. The tips of his finger lightly pressed onto the dough in an attempt to link them together. Except it was not sticking. He kept on applying pressure, more and more as the seconds tick. Once he thought that it would hold, he settled the…ill-shaped dumpling on the table. With his hands on his hips, he turned to face your observing stance. Not bad for his first try. Or so he thought.

Five seconds of victory was cut short when the dumpling slowly–but surely–unwrapped itself from the shape Heeseung molded it to. Heeseung 0, dumpling 1. 

The guise of his face showed it all–his mouth hung open, eyes deadpanning the dumpling like it was his sworn enemy–it was so hard not to erupt in laughter. You covered your mouth to contain your glee. This was too funny. 

Your oddly timed coughing shifted Heeseung’s gaze to yours. At first the look in his eyes reeks of annoyance but the sound of your echoing laugh was enough to leave a ghost of a smile on his face. You didn’t get angry, that was a first. Heeseung was shocked to see how calm you were after witnessing his failure (well except for the laughing part).  “I would be a hypocrite if I got angry at you.” You started. “The first time Eomma taught me how to wrap these, I would always rip the dough.”

“Oh.”

“Right, let me repeat the steps again, slowly this time.”

The clueless boy watched your movements distinctly. He noticed how eased you were as you did the task at hand, focused yet you were doing it so effortlessly. He also noticed how you poke your tongue slightly when your fingers pinched the perfectly folded dumpling’s little details, and the little specks of flour that landed on the tip of your nose. There was something about you  today that he couldn’t ignore.

Heeseung looked at your current expression, and suddenly you both were five again. You were sitting in his living room while your mothers chat in the kitchen.

With a crayon tucked in between your fingers, your tongue slightly stuck out as you fully averted your attention to your drawing before you. His gaze lingered there maybe too long than it should have been. You were so focused on that drawing and little Heeseung can't help but wish you would play with him instead. Maybe he could change that.

Shortly after, young Heeseung approached you slowly, attempting not to make any noise before tapping you in the shoulder from behind and whispered a "boo" that resulted in a big red slash in the drawing and an extremely angry Yn.

Twelve years have passed yet you still look the same to him. The first girl that entered his life other than his mother, the first girl he fought with, and the first girl he ever loved. Not that he realized, of course. But perhaps just for today, he would forget your fuse with him and pretend that you didn't hate each other's guts.

“That’s how you make a perfect dumpling.” The curve of your lips were so warm and inviting. Maybe because it was too early in the morning that’s why Heeseung felt so out of it right now. “Ehem, okay. I should be able to do it now.”

TO BE CONTINUED

©️ aernx 2025, do not steal, copy, or translate

[strawberriesoup]

catch me if you can PT. 1,, ✮⋆˙

☆ street racer!han jisung x cop!fem!reader

☆ genre: street racing AU, angst, fluff, action, strangers to lovers, illegal activity

☆ warnings: lots of breaking of the law (like, felony-level breaking of the law), cursing, fire, injury/pain, near death experience, suggestive content

☆ wc: 6.5k

☆ a/n: i'm so happy i finally got to sit down and write this first part out! honestly i'm pretty pleased with it, and i hope this motivation can stay for the remaining parts! for now, enjoy!

if you make it all the way through, please leave some feedback! i always love to hear other people’s thoughts!! your feedback is what keeps me writing stories like these ❤️❤️

☆ taglist: @jisunggy @holly-here @hannamoon143 @fly-you-dam-fools @chancloud8 @hannieslittlerockstar @vixensss @skzpvol @gxtwllsn @yinzgarden @kayleefriedchicken @nightmarenyxx @ick2001 @dwesion

if you would like to be added to my series taglist or my general taglist, send me a comment or an ask! <3

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Unstoppable, that’s what you are. There’s just something about the way your engine rumbles when you shove in the clutch and shift to a higher gear, how you can feel your tires grip the road beneath you, it’s thrilling. Yellow lines blur into one as you grip the wheel tighter, focusing your attention solely on the path ahead. Just a little farther.

Your blinker flashes as you signal your turn into the Wal-mart parking lot.

Really, you can’t imagine anything more unintresting than grocery shopping. There’s no excitement in searching through various assortments of oranges and grapes, no blaring horns and revving engines to go along with determining the best jug of milk to buy.

When you had joined the city police force, it’s safe to say that this is not how you were expecting to spend your wednesday afternoons.

How embarrassing. Yes, you know that shopping is a normal— and necessary— part of life, but that’s just the thing. It’s normal. Mundane, tedious, dull… Must you go on? A normal thing for normal people to be doing on normal days. Definitely not the action-filled life you had always dreamed of for all those years.

The bitter taste of disappointment fills your mouth as you sulk through the isles. It’s busy today. Groups of people bustle past, none of them paying you any mind. Good. You keep your head tucked towards the ground, not wanting to accidentally make eye contact with someone who might know you. In the back of your mind, you reason that it’s probably ridiculous to be feeling this way. Even still, you don’t lift your face.

The crime rate has been so low recently, with new police recruits popping up left and right, that you aren't even on duty today. While to most that might seem like good news, to you it’s probably the worst news all week. You wish that someone would just start a car chase or something, that way you might get a chance to break the speed limit. Instead,— since you like to manage your expectations somewhat realistically — you’re here, squinting at your shopping list and trying to keep your squeaking cart under control. The gods of choosing a functional shopping cart had not blessed you today.

After an unnecessarily long chat about missing puppies with the sweet old lady who probably broke the world record for the slowest grocery checkout time, you start the trek back out to your car. It shouldn’t be hard to find, given it’s painted a subtle bright crimson. You search the parking lot for the familiar vehicle. Where did you park again? You probably should have paid more attention.

Then, you hear it. At first, you think maybe it’s just the wind whistling around the building behind you. Are you hearing things? No, because there it is again. An unmistakable scream.

Groceries abandoned, you can feel your pulse leap into your temples as you sprint towards the direction of the sound. Whipping your head around, you struggle to get a grip on your surroundings, the midday sun reflecting off the pavement momentarily blinding you.

Another frantic shout brings you to your senses and you are finally able to pinpoint the source of the commotion. Not far off, a cloud of deep black smoke billows from a car on the street. The car had been capsized, shattered glass scattered in a ten-foot radius surrounding it. On first approach, you can’t even tell the front end from the back end. What’s completely unmistakable though, is the gut-dropping smell of an engine fire.

“Mom!” A childs cry rings out above the other panicked voices. A teenage boy holds the little girl in his arms as she rakes at his shoulder in a feeble attempt to break free and run towards the car.

Bystanders are shouting, trying to tear a man away from the door of the car by his arm, shirt, anything they could get a hold of. You can’t tell if the man’s hands are bleeding from the broken glass or from pulling on the door so hard. Who knows, maybe it’s both.

You don’t know if you’ve ever sprung into action so fast. One second you’re assessing the situation, the next you’re shoving people out of the way to access the door.

The window frame had been crushed so much you can barely even see inside the vehicle, let alone utilize it as a viable method of escape. Judging by the lack of law enforcement around the scene, you can tell the car hasn’t been on fire for long. Good. Even though the foul rank of the engine smoke invades your senses, it’s safe to say the vehicle won’t explode. Yet.

Maybe the other door isn’t stuck. You quickly move to the opposite side and tug at the handle, but immediately jerk your hand back when the metal burns your skin. Angrily, you tug a hand across your face. Think. You need to think. Come on, think.

There. A window that hadn’t been shattered, the back windshield. To access it, you’d have to crawl under the trunk and break it open. If you do that, there’s a good chance you won’t be able to turn back around easily once inside, if at all. You can’t tell to what degree the person inside is injured, but you take the lack of any sort of cry for help as a bad sign.

The desperate wails of the little girl make up your mind for you. There’s no time to lose. You need to get this done, and get it done fast.

Shrugging off your purse, jacket, and anything that could possibly get snagged in the car, you squeeze under the trunk. It’s uncomfortably warm, reminding you of the very real possiblility of explosion once the fire reaches the fuel tank. All your faith is funneled into your pocket knife as you jam the back of it into the windshield. Nothing.

Again, you wind back the knife. A yell escapes you as you once again ram it into the window with all your might. Still, it doesn’t yield.

Shit. shit. You have to get in there. You can see the outline of what looks to be a human form inside the car, but no movement. One more time. You can do this.

The man that had been tugging at the door is kneeling behind you, unable to fit underneath the car. He reaches under, stretching his red-stained fingers towards you. At first, you don’t understand what he’s trying to do. Then, it clicks. Wrapping his hand around your own, The knife is encompassed beneath both of your hands. The man’s voice is hoarse as he counts to three. Together, you drive the tool into the windshield.

Finally, the window shatters with a crash. Dark smoke pours out, stinging your eyes and forcing a cough from your lungs. Wasting no time, you squeeze the man’s hand before taking a deep breath and ducking inside.

Shattered glass slices open your palm and you hiss at the white flash of pain. There’s no time to check the damage right now, you’ll deal with injuries later. You tearily squint through the smoke, finally laying your eyes upon a still figure in the passenger’s seat. Still buckled in, she hangs awkwardly from the seat, supported by the seatbelt.

A drop of sweat falls into your eyes. The heat alone is suffocating, but paired with the smoke the conditions are nearly unbearable. The steadily ticking clock of oxygen deprivation hangs heavy over your head, you won’t be of much help if you’re passed out. You grunt as you stretch your arm up to reach for the buckle.

With a click, the woman falls from the seat. No movement. You can’t even tell if she’s breathing.

How the fuck are you going to get her out of here? The car interior around you suddenly feels too small, your vision beginning to spin. No, get a handle of yourself. These people are depending on you. That little girl is depending on you. The image of the little girl’s face, twisted with fear and desperation, fuels you to set your jaw and grab a hold of the woman’s arm.

If you can just pull her past you, you might be able to push her the rest of the way, getting her out as quickly as possible for medical attention, as EMS should be here soon. As if on cue, you hear blaring sirens steadily approching over the crackling of the fire.

Straining, you are able to tug at the woman until she’s past you. Blood roars in your ears as you use the rest of your energy to try and push her the rest of the way. It’s not graceful by any means, but you manage to shove her far enough towards the shattered window for her to be pulled out by a team of gloved hands.

You collapse onto the floor below. Dark fog breaches the corners of your vision. Is that the smoke? Maybe. You can’t even tell at this point. A cough wracks its way through your body as the pulse of adrenaline leaves you.

Well, at least you were able to help. You can feel your eyelids slowly blinking closed, despite your efforts to fight it.

What’s left of your vision is suddenly blocked by… a face? Holy shit. Did you die? In front of you hovers a face that looks like it was sculpted by the gods themselves. A perfectly angled nose sits between two dark eyes that remind you of the cool blanket of night. His lips are moving and you lament over the fact you can’t hear his voice due to an annoyingly loud ringing filling your ears. If this is what heaven is like, you don’t think you mind dying so much.

You can distantly feel your body being lifted as you drift out of conciousness.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

“That was some crazy shit back there, y’know.”

You blink your eyes open, focusing on the source of the familiar voice next to you. It’s Seungmin, your patrol partner. He’s sitting on the edge of the ambulance, knee bouncing up and down. His stare, unreadable as always, greets you. You let out a much-needed sigh of relief. As much as he gets on your nerves, you are definitely more than happy to see a familiar face.

“Seungmin? What happened? Is that— ow, shit!” You sit up too fast from your stretcher and immediately need to lay back down due to a stabbing pain in your skull. “Is that lady okay?” as the sharp pain withdraws into a dull throb, the past events slowly resurface in your mind. Wait. That guy. The one who you saw just before you passed out, who was he? You had never seen him before. Was he even real?

“Well, I’m not sure if ‘okay’ is the right word to use, but she’s alive at least. She was rushed to the hospital along with her family members as soon as you got her out.” Seungmin crosses over to you, leaning on the edge of your stretcher. You can see him better now, and from here you can catch the slightest bit of worry in his features that was not evident in his voice previously. “Which, by the way, that little stunt of yours almost got you killed. If that guy hadn’t gotten you out of there when he did, you would have been crushed.”

So he was real.

According to Seungmin, right after you had been dragged out, the frame of the car completely collapsed; which would have effectively both trapped you inside and squished you. He’s about to continue with details about how next you probably would have caught on fire, before you punch him square in the arm, earning a cry of pain from both you and Seungmin. You shake the pain out of your bandaged hand as you are painfully reminded of that piece of glass that had cut you.

“Anyways,” you scowl at him when he sends you a not-so-apologetic look, “who was that guy? Is he a new police recruit? I’ve never seen him before.” The only reason you know that for sure is because you would never have forgotten that face. You can picture him in your mind right now. You’ve never seen anyone so… well, perfect.

“No, he’s not. Just some civilian who was stupid enough to jump into a flaming car to save your sorry ass,” Seungmin waves away your indignant defenses and heads off towards a group of officers outside the ambulance, “It was a hit and run, the bastard who caused this mess drove off someplace so we’re trying to see—”

“Where did he go?”

Seungmin faces you, caught off-guard. “What?”

“That guy, where’d he go?” You repeat your question, obviously not at all intrested in whatever was going on with the other officers.

Seungmin’s eyebrows lower as he rolls his eyes and turns away once more. “I dunno, haven’t seen him,” he comments over his shoulder helpfully. Then, he’s gone.

Ugh.

Fuck you, Kim Seungmin

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You have to find him. You will not be able to function as a member of society without knowing that he’s an actual person and not just a result of some hallucination. You had asked every single one of the officers and bystanders at the scene if they knew even just his name (you did not appreciate Seungmin making faces at you the whole time, thank you very much) to no avail; nobody knew anything about this mysterious man.

Fine then. You’ll just have to find him yourself.

Weeks go by, and his face never leaves your mind. Sometimes you swear you can see a flash of his honey skin, or those gorgeous eyes, only to look up and realize with disappointment it is in fact, not him. You wonder how many random passerby you have given an unexplainably sour face. Not that it matters what they thought of you. They probably worked a nine to five at some boring old desk.

One night, Seungmin had caught you searching through the criminal records. Maybe it was a stretch, but hey, you were desperate. You had just reached the ‘H’ column when he snuck up behind you. Upon him tapping your shoulder with a “Whatcha doing” on his lips, you had jumped three feet in the air and quickly closed the tab, responding with a very convincing “Nothing!” and rushing out of the room.

Just a name, that’s all you need. Is that really too much to ask?

Suited up in your standard police attire, you wait in line at your favorite coffee place before your night shift with Seungmin. You had finally been scheduled a full eight hours, but honestly your mind was anywhere but work. The bustling coffee shop atmosphere and the overwhelming smell of coffee does nothing for your scattered thoughts. Why the hell are so many people in line for coffee at 10:00 at night?

“One iced americano for Han Jisung?” The barista calls out the next order.

No way. There’s actually no way.

You have to do a triple take to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. It’s really him. You would recognize his face anywhere.

He’s just as stunning as when you had first seen him. Eyes that same dusky brown, nose that same perfect shape. He has a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head, his hair falling from them in loose waves around his face, framing him like an artwork from the renaissance period. The way he holds himself, too. A casual swagger that so few people can pull off, but he wears it so naturally; completely at ease. One hand in his pocket, he smiles at the barista as she hands him his order, somehow lighting up the entire room with simply his expression.

You are so awestruck that it takes you a second to realize that he’s turned his attention directly to you.

When you do realize though, your heart drops right into your ass. Your first instinct is to jump your gaze to the floor or the ceiling, feigning nonchalance, but you’ve been hyper fixated on his face for so long you cannot bring yourself to look away.

His eyes spark with recognition. You can tell by the way his eyebrows raise amicably as he starts heading towards you. Your heart speeds up to about a million miles per hour.

That is until he looks you up and down. His expression drops and his eyes widen for just a fraction of a second before returning to his previous smile, but this time it feels just a little forced. As he passes you, he nods politely and sweeps past without so much as a word.

What just happened? You watch as he exits the coffee shop. Wait, no, you can’t lose him now, you at least need to thank him. He did save your life after all.

You hustle past the long line much less gracefully than he, catching him outside the door before he can cross the street.

“Hey, wait up!” You call after his retreating form. You see him pause, but he doesn't turn around as you jog up to him. “It’s you! Jisung, right?”

Finally, he faces you. His sunglasses now sit neatly on the bridge of his nose, obscuring his eyes from sight. You can’t detect any of the uncomfort from before in his features. Did you imagine that? Maybe he’s just in a hurry.

“That’s me,” Jisung says, a cute little chuckle punctuates the end of his sentence. His voice is sweet, reminding you of warm brown sugar and butter. Your heart skips a beat as he addresses you with that grin of his, “can I help you with anything, officer?”

It takes you a second to respond, the way he tilts his head at you whilst waiting for a response has you feeling all kinds of weird, bubbly feelings in your chest. You stomp them down and clear your throat.

“No, no I actually wanted to thank you. You know, for saving me. You really didn’t— I mean that was really… courageous of you. And stuff. Anyways. yeah, thanks.” You finish awkwardly, stumbling over your words. Damn it.

Jisung laughs. A beautiful sound, really.

“Thought I recognized you! You’re the pretty little thing who saved that lady from the fire. Gotta hand it to you, officer, you’ve got some guts in there.” He gestures to your badge with a tilt of his head, leaning back on the crosswalk pole and sticking one hand in his pocket.

You’re pretty sure your brain short-circuited at the words ‘pretty little thing’ and you’re not quite sure how to answer, your mouth opening and closing a few times, but no words falling from it.

Jisung grins at your tongue-tied state, letting out another amused huff of laughter and hitting the crosswalk button.

“I’ve got somewhere to be, but you stay safe out there ok? Don’t go jumping into any more flaming vehicles if you can possibly help it, next time I might not be there,” He clicks his teeth and you swear you can see him wink from under his shades. The crosswalk changes to give Jisung the right of way and he heads off across the street.

There you stand, a blushing mess, watching as he heads to a nearby parking spot.

Wait a second, is that his car?

Jisung closes the door to a Chevrolet Camaro, colored in a tasteful matte black. Are you kidding? No, this has got to be a joke, there’s no way he has that car. As the engine purrs to life, you can feel the rumbling vibration in your chest even from across the street. When he pulls out, it’s evident just how suped up it is. There’s an added spoiler on the back and… are those LED lights on the rims? That’s it. You might actually be in love.

The hum of the engine steadily approaches as he pulls up next to you on the street, rolling down the window and looking up at you and your wide eyes.

“Like what you see, officer?” Jisung raises his eyebrows teasingly, a smug little smirk playing on his lips. If it had been anyone else, you’re sure you would be enraged by the expression, but there’s something about him that makes it hot rather than insufferable. He hangs an elbow out the window, lightly tapping his fingers to the bass of some song that plays from his speakers as you take in the vehicle.

“Shut the fuck up, this is yours?” You raise your voice over the sound of the engine, leaning in closer so he can hear you. You momentarily forget that you’re technically on duty right now.

There it is again, that hearty laugh of his. Definitely one of your new favorite sounds.

“Yes ma’am, all mine,” Jisung pulls up his sunglasses, finally giving you a clear view of his face. His face that’s looking more mischievous by the minute. “Maybe one day you’ll do me the honor of taking you for a spin, how’s that sound?” He reaches out and lightly flicks his index finger up the bottom of your chin. Your stomach explodes with butterflies as a result.

“I’m…” You consider your options. Is he serious? He’s definitely flirting with you. Right? He literally just touched your chin while asking if you wanted a ride in his car. He’s definitely flirting. Yeah.

“I’m free tomorrow,” You blurt, against your better judgment. There’s no way in hell you’re going to turn down a opportunity like this.

“Same time, same place?”

You glance at your watch. 10:30 p.m. You should be in the patrol car with Seungmin right about now.

“That works,” You nod. Your answer is a little shaky, but you hide it well.

“Guess I’ll see you then, officer,” Jisung flashes you one last smile, scrunching up his nose and throwing you a half salute. He revvs up his engine once, twice, and then he’s gone.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your legs shake as you head back into the coffee shop to re-order a cup of coffee. You’re going to need it.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

This is stupid. Like, really dumb. You can’t believe you’re doing this.

You’ve been sitting on a bench outside of the coffee shop for the past fifteen minutes. Granted, you’re the one who decided to show up fifteen minutes early, but you’re starting to regret that decision. At least it’s not cold out.

You had spent probably a good three hours debating what the hell you were going to wear. Might seem excessive but there were just so many points to consider. What if you come off too strong? but then again, you wouldn't want to underdress. Or overdress. It’s not even a date, he’s just giving you a ride around, right? Why are you stressing so much?

And so here you wait in your cute little mid-thigh skirt, having decided with a nod that it was a safe bet all around. Plus, it makes your legs look great.

You’re definitely thinking about this too hard.

A quick beep of a car horn catches your attention. You look up right as you feel the distinct purr of Jisung’s engine rumbling in your bones. Thank God, he actually came.

You’re not sure if you’re jittering from the excitement of going on a— Date? You really don’t want to make any assumptions because he hadn’t straight up asked you on a date per say— with the most gorgeous man you’d ever laid eyes on or the excitement of getting to ride in his car. Maybe both. You clench and unclench your fists in anticipation. You’re positively itching to feel what it’s like on the road.

Jisung exits the low car smoothly, heading towards you with a wave. His eyes scrunch up at the corners when he smiles, painting his expression with such a lovely friendliness that makes you want to curl up in a ball and cry. His outfit drastically contrasts his inviting face though, he’s dressed in dark grey washed jeans and a burnt orange short sleeve that hugs his upper body almost skin-tight, a jacket tied loosely around his waist. The duality of man, you suppose. The slicked back style of his hair on top of literally everything else about him screams one thing. This man looks like a goddamn racer.

As soon as you realize you’ve been gawping at him for a good couple of moments now, you snap your focus up to his eyes, already feeling a blush creeping it’s way across your cheeks.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, officer,” Jisung gives you a quick up and down, meeting your eyes afterwards with a look that can only be described as playfulness.

Oh he just knows he’s hot, doesn’t he? Obviously you’re not going to argue, because he’s right.

“Oh my god, don’t call me that,” You protest, lightly punching his arm in retaliation. You definitely don’t miss the unmistakable feeling of muscle under your fist, but that’s really besides the point. The point is he has you all bothered and shit with that nickname. You’ve never been called ‘officer’ so… affectionately.

“You’re right,” He raises his hands in defense, “my bad, babe.”

A retort shrivels on your tongue. You’re pretty sure you can feel your body temprature go up at least two degrees as Jisung heads back to his car, beckoning you to follow him. His back is turned but you can already imagine that little self-satisfied smirk on his face.

He’s going to be the death of you.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You can feel the weight of your body being pressed back into the seat as Jisung speeds up his pace, making your eyes nearly roll back into your head.

The engine roars in your ears as you watch the speedometer whip from zero to sixty in the span of three point five seconds. You can’t help but have a wide grin plastered on your face. It feels like a good stretch after a day of sitting on the couch, you can’t even remember the last time you’ve just, well, drove. Carefree, without the looming restriction of a speed limit or the stress of swerving after a runaway car. Just you and the road. And Jisung, but that’s a plus.

One of the biggest reasons you had strived to join the police force throughout the beginning of your adolescence is that you just could not get enough of that adrenaline rush that comes from zooming down the highway at outrageous hours of the night, competing with your high school friends to see who’s car could accelerate the quicket, maintain the best speed, sound the coolest. The amount of sleepness nights you had spent installing countless upgrades on your car just to beat your friends in some silly bet over a couple of dollars instilled in you the certainty that this is what you wanted to do for the rest of your life.

You had foolishly thought that becoming an officer would cure that hunger burning in your gut, but it just made it worse. You didn’t realize just how bad it had gotten until just now, the familiar sound of hopping gears and the healthy rev of a well-loved engine resurfaces so many emotions that you had so carefully stowed away when you had all graduated and moved on to university, no longer having the time or bravery to risk getting caught anymore.

You glance over at Jisung in the driver’s seat. He looks so at ease, you can tell this is his home, his element. You wonder if he feels the same emptiness by adhereing to the law that you do. It seems taboo to think that way, given your occupation, but you can’t help it.

Jisung flicks on his blinker to exit the highway, and you give him a look out of the corner of your eye.

“Mind telling me where we’re going?” You inquire as he slows to a stop at the intersection.

“Thought it would be nice to go to dinner, don’t you think so?” He glances down either side of the street to ensure it’s clear as he proposes the offer.

Maybe that empty feeling in your stomach was hunger.

“Yeah, actually, I do think so.”

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The restaurant seems strangely empty. A few of the white-clothed tables scattered about the hall are occupied by the quiet bubble of conversation, but other than that the atmosphere is quite still.

Jisung pulls out your chair for you, flamboyantly flipping his hand into a bow as he waits for you to sit. You roll your eyes, badly supressing a smile as you slide into the seat with as much grace as you can manage.

You had both just picked up the menus that had been set in front of you when a low whistle sounds from behind you.

“Who’s the pretty lady, huh, J? Finally found the time to go through that roster of yours?” Your body tenses as someone approaches from the side. You quickly turn your head to get a better view of the newcomer. Oh wow. Was Jisung just friends with hot people in general?

“Ha ha.” Jisung pulls a half-amused face at the man, and gestures to the seat next to him. “This is Changbin. He’s not usually like this, I swear,” Jisung reassures you, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest as Changbin plops down on the seat over. Despite his bold entrance, he nods politely at you in greeting. It becomes evident that he’s just trying to mess with Jisung, meaning no ill-intent (or even much intrest) towards you. You let your muscles relax.

“Well, were you gonna bring her with us tonight?” Changbin gestures towards you, “you know they always get their panties in a twist when one of us has a girl on our arm—”

“She works in law enforcement, isn’t that cool?” Jisung announces a little too loudly, interrupting Changbin, who immediately snaps his mouth shut.

You don’t miss the way Jisung quirks an eyebrow ever-so-slightly at him, a warning. Huh. Your eyes squint in suspicion. What’s this all about?

“Bring me where?” You question Changbin innocently, pushing past Jisung’s subject change and batting your eyes once or twice, just for good measure.

“Bring you to— well, I mean, It’s a place. Definitely. Yeah. Bring you to a place. Somewhere,” Changbin keeps glancing at Jisung as he speaks, who is currently pinching his nosebridge between two fingers, head tilted towards the ceiling.

Changbin falls silent after that, suddenly very intrested in the condition of his shoelaces. You shift your gaze between the two men as an awkward pause falls over the table.

After a long sigh eminating from Jisung, he leans forwards on the table, hands clasped in front of him. His voice is lowered as he speaks.

“Do you trust me?” His eyes bore into your own, not breaking contact as your mind starts running a mile a minute.

Now, the logical answer you would give to a stranger you hardly know is a resounding ‘of course not,’ but this isn’t just anyone. It’s Jisung. The man who risked his very life to save yours, out of the pure goodness of his heart. You can’t imagine not trusting him, you realize. Because you do, you trust him more than you trust yourself, because he did what you couldn’t that day. Without him, you wouldn’t even be here.

“…Yes, I trust you,” You respond, conviction clear in your voice.

Jisung lets out a breath, once again settling back in his chair.

“Then buckle up babe, ‘cause you’re in for a wild night,” He says with a soft chuckle, just as a loud commotion breaks through the restaurant and crowds of people start to pour in through the front door.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Jisung is a racer. A street racer, to be specific. Very dangerous, and definitely very illegal.

The restaurant turned out to be a meeting point for two rival districts to compete in some sort of tiebreaker race tonight, and it seems like nearly the entire city had come to watch. Jisung had dragged you through the bustling hall off into a corner, where he met up with Changbin and one other racer. You think you heard the name ‘Chan’ but you’re not too sure. It’s quite loud when you have a room filled with excited fans shouting bets this way and that, sure that their district will win and that they’ll walk home with the jackpot.

Jisung, Changbin, and Chan form a three person racing team. They call themselves ‘3racha’. You thought the name was a joke at first, but the laugh caught in your throat when you realized they were being dead serious. Right now the three are huddled together, murmuring over the pre-determined race course, deciding on any last minute strategies.

Right about now, you should be alerting your police team of the highly illegal activity buzzing all around you. Troops would be sent in immediately and the whole event would be shut down, arrests being made left and right.

But, you don’t want that to happen. Not in the slightest.

You know could lose everything over this, your career, your friends, your reputation. None of that matters to you right now. All you want is to see Jisung and his team race.

Not far off, a group that you assume to be the opposing team stares daggers at 3racha, the tallest one of them making eye contact with you. He says something with a scoff, but you can’t make it out just by reading his lips. Whatever it was though, his other two teammates found it hilarious, one doubling over with laughter and the other giving him a jovial smack on the back.

You back away from their prying eyes, accidentally colliding with Jisung in the process. He looks up at you as you send him a quick ‘sorry’, then he shifts his gaze to the still chortling trio. You can see something in his normally soft gaze harden as he straightens up and reaches an arm around your shoulder, gently but firmly pulling you flush to him.

His physical presence overwhelms your senses, suddenly wrapped in a blanket that dulls the rest of the chaos out. You’re positive he can feel your heart racing as he leans in to whisper in your ear,

“I need you to ignore them, okay? They’re just trying to get us bothered, and you’re an easy target for them. Just stick by us. Can you do that for me?” His breath tickles your ear with every syllable he speaks, making your legs weak. You manage a nod and he pulls away from you with a reassuring pat to your shoulder.

Changbin sends a not-so-discreet middle finger their way, which earns both a scowl from the them and a reprimanding tap on the back of the head from Chan.

Frankly, you are a bit overwhelmed. Even though it was just for a second, you miss Jisung’s calming arm around you. Without it, you feel like you are drowning in the unfamiliar voices babbling every which way, every conversation fighting to be understood in your mind at once. Usually, you know exactly how to handle any given situation with a clear mind— it’s part of your job after all— but this? It’s all so foreign to you you don’t even know where to begin.

As soon as the clock strikes midnight, the crowd forms a clear space around both of the teams, allowing room for them to exit the building and enter their vehicles. You scurry after 3racha, feeling quite out of place.

It was to be a relay race. The rules are simple: Three laps around the entire course, each lap assigned to a respective member of each team. Whichever team’s car crosses the finish line first, wins the tiebreaker and takes home the prize. You can tell that mountains of cash are on the line for the boys. Some of the numbers you hear thrown around have your eyes as wide as saucers. If 3racha really is that good, it’s no wonder Jisung is able to afford the kind of car he has.

You’re watching Jisung do a once over of his car, ensuring that everything is safely in order, when he crosses over to you, extending his hand. You furrow your brows, slightly confused, but you take his hand. He smiles, wrapping his fingers tightly around you and squeezing once.

“I want you to ride with me, please?” He says, eyes never leaving your face. You stand in silence for a moment, just soaking in the weight of his hand and the familiarness of his face. The curve of his eyebrow, the slope of his nose, the way his bottom lip always seems to pout out just a little bit, and, oh, those eyes. You feel like you’ve known him for your entire life.

You feel yourself break into a smile.

“Let’s go then,” you squeeze his hand in return.

Jisung’s engine roars to life as him and the other first racer, the tall one’s name is apparently Hyunjin, line up at the designated starting line. 3racha had implored that Jisung go for the first lap, so they would have a healthy leg up on the competition come the second lap, where Changbin would be waiting.

As you wait for the countdown to start your knee bounces up and down, the sickly feeling of intense anticipation eating its way through your stomach.

You feel Jisung’s gaze as he glances over at you, a half grin on his face. What’s he thinking? Your internal question is soon answered as he reaches over and grabs your hand, guiding it to rest on the gearshift.

“10!” A loud voice bellows from a megaphone from outside. The countdown has begun.

Jisung clasps his hand over your own, capturing you in between himself and the vehicle. He’s so warm. Meeting your eyes, he gives you a reassuring nod when he spots your expression, running a thumb along the back of your hand. Now your heart is pounding for a different reason.

“3!” The revving of engines combines with the rush of blood in your ears, the vibrations sending a chill up your spine.

“2!”

“1!”

“Go!”

[lovetaroandtaemin]

NSFW Alphabet: Park Seonghwa

MINORS DNI!!!!!

Pairing: Seonghwa x fem!reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: N/A

Rating: Explicit

Type: Headcanon list

Warnings: Creampies, breeding kink, dom/sub themes, use of titles ("daddy," "mommy," "sir"), lingerie, mentions of choking. If you think I missed a warning, please let me know!

A/N: I know it's been a long time since my last NSFW alphabet, but none of the full fics I currently have in progress are finished. Since I really wanted to post something this week, I figured this would be a good way to get something out. If there's a specific idol you'd like to see me do a list like this for, feel free to send a request via asks or dms!

Taglist: @xomakara, @heechwe, @shadowkoo, @gyubakeries

List is under the cut.

A - Aftercare

(What they're like after sex)

I think that Seonghwa would be incredibly gentle and do anything and everything that you needed to feel ok after intense sex. He does whatever he can to make you feel safe, comfortable, and loved, and the time spent holding you close when everything is said and done makes him feel the same.

B - Boobs or Ass

(Are they a boobs man or an ass man?)

I fully believe that he would be a boobs man. I don’t know how to explain why, it’s just a vibe that I get from him.

C - Cum

(Anything to do with cum)

I just know that this man LOVES to finish inside you. The breeding kink is strong, of course, but that’s not the only reason why. Still being connected to you when he reaches his high makes him feel closer to you, in a way.

D - Dirty Secret

(Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He tells you that he doesn’t have a preferred title, but I have a very strong feeling that he actually prefers being called “daddy” in bed. Sure, he also likes “mommy” and “sir,” but the desperation that hits him whenever you call him “daddy” is unmatched.

E - Experience

(How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

I don’t think that he would hook up with a lot of people, so maybe not a whole lot of experience in that regard. But, I think that he would have had a lot of sex in previous relationships, so he definitely knows what he’s doing when it comes to bedroom activities.

F - Favorite Position

(What's their favorite sex position?)

I think that he would enjoy missionary because he loves making eye contact during sex. It just makes the whole thing feel so much more intimate.

G - Goofy

(Are they more serious in the moment, or are they more silly, etc)

Definitely on the more serious side for the most part, but there are definitely occasional silly moments.

H - Hair

(How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Neatly trimmed. He doesn’t like letting hair get out of control.

I - Intimacy

(How are they in the moment, romantic aspect)

So so so so so romantic in bed. In his mind, sex is an expression of love, so there’s no reason for him to be anything but romantic. You never feel unloved during sex with Seonghwa.

J - Jack Off

(Masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t like to do it unless he’s really desperate. Even then, it’s usually only when he’s away from you, like when he’s on tour. I think he’d greatly prefer sex with a partner to masturbation.

K - Kink

(One or more of their kinks)

Ok so I know I mentioned this in my “Ateez: Dom or Sub and Their Top Kinks” post, but I really think that he would have a thing for lingerie. Something about seeing the person that he loves all dressed up for him drives him wild.

L - Location

(Favorite place to have sex)

Definitely your bed. It’s comfortable, there’s more than enough room for both of you, and he likes not having to worry about getting caught like he did in the more adventurous places that the two of you have chosen for getting busy.

M - Motivation

(What turns them on?)

This man loves being wanted. There are very few things that turn him on more than you being needy for him. Something about you wanting him as badly as he wants you just drives him crazy.

N - No

(Something they won't do)

There’s no way in hell he would ever choke you. He doesn’t judge the people that are into it, but it’s just a tiny bit too intense for him to be comfortable doing it.

O - Oral

(Preference in giving or recieving, skill, etc.)

I think his preference in giving or receiving would depend on the mood he’s in. Sometimes, he just needs to feel your mouth around him, but there are also times that all he wants is to watch you come undone on his tongue. When it comes to skill, I definitely think he’d be good at it.

P - Pace

(Are they fast and rough, slow and sensual, etc.)

For the most part, I think that he would want to take things slow. With that being said, I also think that there are moments where he loses control a little bit and goes a little bit rougher. Never too much, just enough that you know he’s really desperate.

Q - Quickie

(Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

I really don’t think that he’d like quickies all that much, but there are definitely moments that he just needs to feel you, time constraints be damned.

R - Risk

(Is he down to experiment, does he take risks, etc.)

Most of the time, I don’t think he’d really be willing to take risks. I think that there are some situations where he’d be down to experiment, but overall, the concern that whatever it is that he’s curious about would be too much for you tends to win over the desire to try something new.

S - Stamina

(How many rounds can he go for, how long does he last)

I really don’t think that he’d want to do more than one round unless he was really in the mood. However, I do think that he’d be able to last for a bit, and you’re never unsatisfied.

T - Toys

(Do they own toys, do they use them, on a partner or on themselves)

Loves using toys, both on you and on himself. He loves the little extra boost that they give him in the bedroom, and he loves having assistance when it comes to making you fall apart for him.

U - Unfair

(How much they like to tease)

I think that he’d really enjoy teasing, but only in specific situations. Like, I don’t think he’d like public teasing, but when you two are just at home, he loves getting you worked up.

V - Volume

(How loud they are, what sounds they make)

I think he’d make a lot of noise, but it wouldn’t necessarily be loud, if that makes sense. Mostly moans and whines, occasionally growls if he really gets into it.

W - Wild Card

(Random headcanon)

Really wants to try being the submissive party sometimes, but has no idea how to bring it up.

X - X-Ray

(Let's see what's going on in those pants)

In my opinion, Seonghwa has the sort of vibe that you wouldn’t expect him to be huge, but he would be. Never too much, but big enough that you pretty much always need time to adjust when he fucks you.

Y - Yearning

(How high is their sex drive?)

I think that his sex drive would probably fluctuate quite a bit, but for the most part, I think it’d be on the higher side.

Z - Zzzzz

(How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

This man gets so so so sleepy after sex, but he refuses to go to sleep until he’s sure that you’re happy and ok with the things that the two of you did. Once you’ve reassured him that you’re ok, he’s out like a light pretty much immediately.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog! If you wanna check out my other works, my masterlist is here. If you wanna see what I have in progress, my upcoming works list is here. If you'd like to be tagged in future works, my taglist form is here. If none of the stuff in my masterlist or upcoming works list catches your attention, or there's something else you wanna see (like another NSFW alphabet with a specific idol!), feel free to send a request via asks or dms!

Thank you again for reading this!

[starl0rds]

Theory of Desire, pt. 2

Hwang In-ho x Fem! Reader ୨୧ · ♡ · ୨୧

Pt. 1 here!

“Young-il.” His name tasted sweet on your tongue. “What do you dream about?”

Amidst the bloodshed and misery of the games, desire takes root inside you and grows towards Young-il.

Warnings: minors dni! smut, mentions of sex, masturbation, wet dream, fingering, oral sex, blood, dirty talk, dom!in-ho, praise kink, basically porn with plot

Author's Note: hope you all are enjoying the fic! thank you sm for all the love so far. chapters will be updated daily on ao3 <3

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

Chapter 2: how I'm imagining you

I'd be the last shred of truth

In the lost myth of true love 

I'd be the sweet feeling of release

Mankind now dreams of

- “Talk,” by Hozier

“And you? Don’t you also wish to live?”

You looked up at Young-il. His face was inches away from yours, closer than you remember. The proximity of it stirred a strange excitement deep within you.

“Everyone wants to live,” you replied.

“Everyone wants,” Young-il murmured. And suddenly his lips were close to your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your neck. “Everyone wants, and wants, and wants. Tell me, darling, what it is that you really want?”

“I—,”

“I know.” And his lips were no longer near your ear but now trailing the length of your jaw, down to the nape of your neck, to your collarbone. You gasped at the sudden contact. His hands came up to explore the length of your body, strong and possessive. 

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” he whispered. 

His hands dipped underneath the hem of your shirt. Your bare skin smoldered from where he touched it. “Be quiet, now.” He nipped at your neck, and you bit your lip from crying out. “We wouldn’t want to wake anyone here, would we?”

“Young-il, please,” you rasped.

“Oh? Listen to you, already so good at begging,” Young-il praised. He pressed a kiss to your collarbone and slid his left hand down, slowly, until it reached the waistband of your panties. He toyed with it for a moment. With his hand, he stretched the elastic and then let it recoil, stinging your pelvis and eliciting a moan from you. Heat continued to pool between your thighs, closer and closer to where his fingers were traveling…

You startled awake with a jolt, hands clammy and perspiration beading your forehead. Inside the chamber, it was still dark. A sudden sound had roused you from sleep—to your left, one row below you, you heard Player 388 clamoring at the foot of his bunk bed, whispering hushed apologies as he climbed back on. He must have been tossing in his sleep.

You stared upwards at the bed frame of the bunk above you, your chest heaving. Your thoughts drifted to the content of your dream. It had all seemed too concerningly real—the wind of Young-il’s hot breath near your skin, the feel of his hands on your body. 

Your fingers traveled downwards. And there you found the wetness that had pooled between your thighs was not just a figment of your dream.

Shit.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

(chapter cont. here on ao3!)

taglist: @k1ra-park3r

[heartsforjh]

Six Lines

𝒥𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝐻𝓊𝑔𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝓍 𝐹𝑒𝓂!𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

main masterlist | six lines masterlist

Two lines. That was all it took to have your husband walking around the house cheering, pretty much freaking out. Two lines on a positive pregnancy test, more specifically.

You and Jack had been trying for a baby since roughly a year after you got married. You had both opted to wait two years originally, but when he started seeing cute babies everywhere, Jack could only describe it as a “sign”. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t take long for him to have you on board with the idea too.

Now you’re standing here, bathroom light shining bright, test in hand, and heart completely full. Jack comes walking back into the bathroom and engulfs you in a big hug, holding you tight.

“Holy shit, y/n. You’re gonna be a mommy! You’re gonna be a—wow… just an amazing mom! And I’m gonna be a dad,” he whispers, voice full of awe. You giggle and nod, your chest warming at his excitement.

Jack is buzzing, practically bouncing on his feet. But then, his expression stills, and you can see the gears turning in his mind. Slowly, his brows furrow, and a flicker of doubt crosses his face. “But… I don’t know how to be a dad.”

“You think I know how to be a mom?” you ask, your voice light but reassuring.

“I mean… no, technically not,” he shrugs. “Cause, you know, you’ve never done it before.”

You nod. “Right, but you still think I’m gonna be a good mom?”

His frown deepens, almost as if he’s offended by that. “The best mom. You shouldn’t even question that. I know you’re gonna be great-”

You cut him off, cupping his face gently in your hands. “Exactly. So why freak out? You don’t know how to be a dad, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna be bad at it. Our baby is gonna love you so much, J.”

His face softens, a small smile slowly tugging at the corner of his lips. “Okay. You’re right. It’s gonna love me.”

The renewed confidence in his voice makes your heart swell, and you smile warmly in return. You lean in, pulling his face to yours in a gentle kiss. When you pull away, you notice something lingering in his expression again.

Worried, you ask, “What are you thinking about, babe?”

“Do you think it’ll like hockey?” he questions, tilting his head with innocent curiosity.

You raise your eyebrows at him, unable to help the grin spreading across your face. “It took you, what? Five whole minutes to start talking about hockey.”

“New record,” he teases, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before slipping past you and out of the bathroom.

You shake your head, still smiling as you watch him head toward the kitchen. “This is seriously the happiest news I’ve gotten since you said yes. I’m gonna make us the best dinner to celebrate!”

i hope you guys enjoyed this! it’s the first part to my new au! feel free to send in questions or headcanons! for part one i’m going to tag everyone who is signed up for Jack on my taglist. however, after this you guys may have to go back in and sign up for this au separately if you want to keep getting tagged. i don’t want to bug anyone that doesn’t want to be notified!

tags: @beenucks @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @sweetestdesire @puckmedude @joesnumerouno @alex-wotton @r0wdymaize86 @macklin-celebrini-71 @quillycrow

join the taglist here! :)

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 66

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,520ish

Summary: You and Logan go on your first date.

Warning(s): panic attack

Notes: Please send in reactions! Can't believe there's only 6 more chapters after this... I don't think I'm ready... HELP PLAN MY NEW LOGAN SERIES HERE.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Wade watched with curiosity at Logan smiled and hummed around the apartment as he got ready for work. It was a different sight to Logan that Wade was sure no one had ever seen before.

“Okay, what the hell is wrong with you?” Wade finally asked. “Like did you have a sexy dream last night? Or have I not peed in your Cheerios in too long? Like seriously, Music Man, there’s something going on with you.” Logan shrugged on his jacket and slipped on his boots before grabbing his keys. “Are you seriously not going to tell me?”

Logan grabbed the doorknob and opened the door. “She said yes,” he smiled dopily before stepping out of the apartment and shutting the door behind him.

“Wait a damn second!” Wade scrambled up and out into the hallway. “What do you been she said yes?! Y/N? And to what?” Logan didn’t bother to turn around, heading out to work. He waved Wade off, but Wade was persistent. “Logan! You cannot leave me hanging like this. I’m just going to follow you to work and I’m just in my unicorn underwear so everyone will know that you’re roommates with someone with amazing style and I—“

“She said yes to a date, idiot.”

“WHAT?! And you didn’t immediately tell me?! I am wounded, Peanut. So what’s the plan? Oh, you could—“

Logan slammed his hand over Wade’s mouth. “I’ve got it covered, bub. Now, I got to go to work. You can bug me about it after.” He turned and left.

Wade clapped excitedly before rushing off to your apartment and bursting in. You and Laura were sitting at the table, eating breakfast. You were just about to tell Laura that you had said yes to going on a date with Logan when Wade came charging in, only in his unicorn underwear.

“My Peanut Buttercup is going on a date!” He exclaimed. He rushed over and pulled you into a hug.

“What?” Laura questioned, almost spitting out her coffee. “When?”

“Uh, last night,” you mumbled bashfully. “After he walked me home from work.”

“You should have woken me up immediately! Oh my gosh! We have so much to do to get you ready for it!”

“Please don’t make this a big deal.”

“Oh, but my sweet Buttercup,” Wade smiled, “how wrong you are.”

~~~

Your hands were trembling and growing increasingly warmer. As you looked through your closet for the perfect outfit, you began to burn through the fabric of every piece of clothing you touched. You groaned in frustration as the pain in your hands grew and little burns began to appear.

“Shit,” you muttered, plopping down on your bed.

“Have you found an outfit yet, mom?” Laura asked, peeking her head in.

You shook your head, staring down at your ugly hands. Laura noticed and came in to sit beside you.

“I’m burning all my clothes,” you whispered. “I’m so nervous… And then there’s these ugly things.” You twisted your hands around. “Logan tried to hold my hand last night… I didn’t let him… I didn’t want him to feel all this awful scars against his hands. Like, seriously, how could he think any of this was attractive? I used to be… so much prettier.”

“Mom, are you serious? You are gorgeous.”

“You’re too kind, kiddo. But I’m not anymore.”

Laura sighed, knowing that she couldn’t be of much help in this department. She leaned over and kissed the side of your head. “I’ll be right back. I’ve got an idea.”

~~~

Logan didn’t realize that he could be this nervous. As he walked home from work, he bought five different bouquets of your favorite flowers, not knowing which one was perfect enough for you. He had to make a good impression for this first date. The best impression. This could be the official start of something incredible for him and Logan couldn’t take the chance of it being anything less than perfect.

When he got home, Wade had already thrown a variety of Logan’s outfits  around the apartment.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Logan asked, looking around at the piles of the few clothes he had.

“I’m trying to help you!” Wade replied, moving clothes from pile to pile. “But you’re clothes selection is awful. Which is why I went shopping today!” He lifted up a large garment bag up. “I had been thinking just one of your plaids but then I bought this.” He held up a nice black button up. “Which can go with these jeans and then shoes. What do you think?”

“Is that too fancy?”

“Oh, please, nothing is too fancy for our Little Flame. You want this date to be memorable, right? And of course it has to be perfect!”

Logan’s heart began hammering in his chest and his breaths were coming out in short spurts. This was a new feeling. His hands were clamming and the room was blurry. The bouquets of flowers fell to the floor.

“Hey, Peanut!” Wade called. “You still with me?”

“I… It’s…” Logan panted. His hand went to his chest as he thought his heart was going to pull itself out of his chest.

“Hey! Woah there!” Wade rushed over to Logan’s side as Logan’s knees gave out and he landed on the bouquets. “You’re having a panic attack, Peanut. You need to breathe.”

“I… can’t… what if… ruin… everything… can’t… lose… her…”

“Okay! None of that.” Wade knelt down in front of Logan and gripped Logan’s face between his hands. “You’re over thinking. Deep, slow breaths, Peanut. Follow my lead.” 

Wade dramatically led Logan through the breathing. The big bad Wolverine was having a panic attack over a first date. Normally, Wade would totally tease Logan for this but it was actually making Wade concerned. Far too long for either of their likings, Logan grew calm.

“There, Big Guy,” Wade cooed. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better,” Logan muttered. “Thanks.”

“Good. Now,” Wade turned around and grabbed the outfit he wanted Logan to wear, “go get all cleaned up. And stop overthinking it.”

Logan nodded, getting up. His eyes fell to the ruined bouquets and his heart sank. “Shit. The flowers.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out. Go.” Wade pushed Logan towards the bathroom. Logan’s shoulders were slumped as he went and disappeared into the bathroom. Wade sighed. “I do fucking everything around here.”

Wade gathered up the flowers that weren’t ruined and made a makeshift bouquet out of them. He stared at his handiwork before pulled away by a knock at the door. Wade skipped over to answer it, seeing that it was Laura on the other side.

“Little Wolf!” Wade greeted. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

“I need your help,” she said. “My mom…” She glanced back to see if Logan was there. “Just, come here.” She grabbed Wade’s wrist and pulled him out into the hall. “My mom is freaking out.”

“Yeah, well, so is Peanut.”

“No, she’s… she’s burning everything she touches and burns are forming on her skin. My mom’s in pain and it’s all got her thinking that she’s not beautiful. I tried to—”

“Oh, hell no!” Wade slammed his apartment door and marched over to your apartment. He headed straight for your room, where he found you sitting on the edge of the bed, head hanging down. “Listen here, young lady. I will not have you talking badly about yourself.”

“Wade—“

“No! I will not stand for it.” He crouched down between your legs and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Buttercup, you are beautiful. Your scars do not define your beauty. Fuck, look at me. I know that my skin is a disaster but I also know that I am handsome as all hell. Yes, I make jokes at my own expense and have my own bad days, but—“

“Not everyone has your confidence,” you whispered. “I can’t stop thinking about how he probably had a perfect version of me in his world… I probably don’t compare…”

“My Little Flame, confidence isn’t on the outside. It’s in here.” He pressed a finger to your chest. “Same with beauty. But, my darling Buttercup, I can promise you this: you are beautiful inside and out. And I can tell you for a fact that Logan believes that you are the prettiest woman in all the multiverse.”

“He does?”

“Yep, and I’ll make sure that he tells you that more. You know, he’s struggling himself too. In fact, I just helped him through a panic attack.”

“What? Is he alright?”

“Peanut is fine. He’s getting himself all dolled up for your date and should be over soon.”

You nodded. “I keep burning all my clothes.”

“Don’t worry. I think I got just the thing.”

~~~

Logan stood on the other side of your apartment door, staring at the door. The bouquet that Wade had fixed up was gripped tightly in his hand. He was taking slow deep breaths, trying not to trigger another panic attack. Finally, with a slightly trembling hand, Logan knocked on the door. He was surprised to see Wade was the one to answer it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Wondered Logan.

“I’m here helping out my Buttercup,” Wade responded with a shrug. “And someone needed to give you a good taking to.”

“What are you talking about—“

“I want her back home by nine pm. Only extremely respectful touches. No funny business. It’s only the first date. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Seriously?”

“You’re not seeing her until I hear it.”

Logan let out a frustrated sigh. “Yes, sir. I’ll have her home by nine and I will be nothing but a gentleman.”

“Good.” Wade turned back into the apartment, leaving the door open. “Buttercup! Your date is here!”

Laura was with you in the bathroom, the two of you looking at your reflection, when Wade yelled for you. She hugged you from behind.

“Go out and have fun, mom,” she told you softly. “You deserve it.”

You smiled at her. “Thanks, kiddo… for everything. Love you.”

“Love you too.” 

Laura took one of your hands, which were covered in her fingerless compression gloves, and lead you out to the living area. Logan lost his breath as he saw you. You were in a simple outfit, nice jeans and a blouse, but you were gorgeous. He quickly noticed the compression gloves and the fireproof body suit that was peering out from your blouse and his heart dropped. You clearly weren’t having a good day power wise, maybe he should call this off?

“Hey, Lo,” you greeted with a grin. But how could he call it off when you looked him like that?

“Hi, doll,” he said simply, getting lost in you for a moment. “Uh,” he cleared his throat, “these are for you.” He offered you the bouquet. 

You gave him a sheepish smile as you stepped forward and took the bouquet. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” Wade said. “The bouquet was made by yours truly.”

You laughed. “Well, thank you too, Wade.”

“I’ve already warned him about bringing you home by nine and no funny business. But the same goes for you, young lady, no funny business. We cannot afford to have a little Emberine running a muck around here.”

“Wade!”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay, okay. Thank you.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “For everything.” You turned to Laura and handed her the bouquet. “Take care of these please.”

“Of course, mom,” she said, taking the flowers. “Have fun.”

You nodded and turned your focus back to Logan. “Ready?”

“If you are, darlin’,” Logan replied.

Logan and you stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind you. You followed Logan closely as he led you out of the building. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you slipped your arm through Logan’s. His breath hitched at the contact, you noticed.

“Sorry, is this okay?” You asked.

“It’s great, doll,” he shot you a smile.

“So, what are the plans?”

“You’ll see.”

“Seriously? You’re not going to tell me?”

“Nope.”

“Fine,” you sighed, leaning into him. “I trust you.”

Logan’s heart soared. He knew that you meant in this moment, but he also knew that your trust went beyond this moment. He led you through the streets to a quiet diner. He guided you to a small booth in the corner, where you two quickly ordered from the waitress.

“This place is nice,” you commented, looking around.

“I found it once on a late night walk when I couldn’t sleep,” he stated.

“Do you have nights like that often?” Logan shrugged. “Lo… why haven’t you told me?”

“Didn’t want to worry you.”

You reached out and placed your gloved hand on his. “If you don’t want to be shielded from my problems, you can’t shield me from yours. Got it?”

Logan nodded, his hand turning to better hold your hand. You bit your lip, trying not to pull away from his touch. “Are you okay today? I noticed the gloves and the body suit.”

“I’m fine—great, actually. I just… It’s embarrassing.”

“Try me.”

“Well, I was so nervous for the date that I kept burning everything I touched.”

“Are you alright?” He lifted your hand and noticed the small burns. “Shit, doll.”

“It’s fine, Lo. I’m fine… Heard you had a panic attack.”

“Yeah,” Logan nodded, bringing your intertwined hands back to the table. “I was nervous too.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

~~~

The two of you lost track of time as you ate, talked, and laughed. It felt easy, quiet, and relaxing. Logan had worried that his plan just to go to a diner was too simple, but those worries faded quickly. Before you knew it, it was well past nine, and you and Logan were finally walking home. Your arms were looped together and you were leaning comfortably against each other, like you were melted together.

“Thank you, Lo,” you told him as the two of you stopped in front of your door. “Tonight was… well, perfect.”

“Glad you thought so, doll,” Logan smiled. “I, uh, I was thinking that maybe—“

Your apartment door slammed open. “I said nine!” Wade exclaimed. “It’s almost eleven! Are you too old to tell time, Peanut? Do I need to get you a watch?”

You bit back a laugh as Logan groaned, jaw and hands clenched in frustration. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to Logan’s cheek, causing him to freeze up.

“Thanks again, Lo,” you whispered. “See you tomorrow.”

Logan could barely force out a nod as Wade grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the apartment and shut the door behind you. Logan’s fingers twitched as his hand came up and brushed against the spot you kissed.

Inside the apartment, you were laughing. Laura and Wade had pulled you into the blanket fort they made in the living room.

“Tell us everything!” Wade pressed. “I want to hear every juicy detail!”

The three of you stayed up talking in the blanket fort until you all fell sound asleep. 

next chapter >

[sitkowski]

time waits for me in bloom - nicholas ruffilo x cam (oc)

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x cam (OC) cw: 18+ MDNI ⚠️ gentle femdom, subby nicky, orgasm denial, chastity device (cock cage), praise kink, dirty talk, sexting (explicit pictures), oral sex (f receiving), handjobs, vaginal sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, they just love each other a lot word count: 4k author's note: here is the sequel to get me low (like a basement), aka this is nicky gets the cage. many thanks to illy for looking over this to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be, i owe you my life boo 💓 title comes from "blue reverie" by erra. divider by @saradika-graphics 🔐

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups

Cam gets in late from the bar the second night Nicholas is gone on tour. It’s just her and the cats, and she’s glad for their company while he’s away. She showers the smell of spilled beer and smoke off of herself, and then puts on a pair of sweats and one of Nicholas’ shirts before crawling into bed. She grabs her phone to text him, just to let him know that she made it in from work safe and sound. They had talked before the show and Cam had been a little amused at the little edge in his voice. He’d said he was fine, he was handling everything okay.

It’s only been two days.

When her phone pings with a notification, she’s expecting a goodnight or something. They’re still in the same time zone right now and she knows he’s probably going to be either sleeping soon or bored while they travel. But when Cam opens the message thread, she sees that it’s a photo. And it’s not that she has any doubt whatsoever that he’s going to be wearing the cage like he told her would, but to see it like this is another thing entirely. It’s obvious that he’s locked himself in some gas station bathroom, where the lighting is terrible and there’s graffiti all over the stall door. All she can really see is his lower stomach, the little padlock that sits atop the cock cage, and a hint of the glittery silicone encasing him. Her mouth goes dry at the sight, and she has to think of what to say, what to do. Does she send him words of encouragement? Does she send him back a picture that will no doubt drive him a little crazy because he can’t do anything about it?

She makes a decision, shimmying out of her sweatpants so that she’s only in her underwear and Nicholas’ Labyrinth t-shirt. It takes her a minute to get comfortable and take the picture at the right angle. It’s not even that risque, not compared to what he just sent her, but she knows it’ll do the trick. Cam sends a second one right behind it, without the t-shirt, so that he can see the tiny gold key that goes to the lock on his cage where it hangs around her neck, sitting just above her breasts. This one, she attaches a message to.

Be good.

She doesn’t wait for a response, setting aside her phone and putting back on her clothes before picking up her book. And when nothing comes through her phone, she isn’t surprised either. Even with the silence, she knows that he’ll be good for her. She’s confident he’ll be able to handle the cage okay, and it’s not as if there’s any punishment if he can’t. Cam thinks he just wanted this challenge for himself, to see how deep into denial he could get with it. Of course there’s a part of her that likes the power having the key for the cage gives her.

It takes him four more days to crack, just a little. Cam wakes up in the middle of the night to her phone ringing. Her immediate thought is that something’s wrong, and she scrambles to answer. All she hears at first when she says his name is his choppy breathing, and panic swirls in her stomach.

“Nicky?”

“You gotta tell me, Camille,” he says, his voice strained. “You gotta tell me I can’t take it off.”

A little bit of relief settles in her, “Oh baby, are you hurting?”

She’s not sure where he is but he has to be alone if he’s calling her like this. She hears a thud, which is probably him knocking his head against a door. She pictures him locking himself away in the hotel room bathroom, trying to be quiet so as not to be overheard while he struggles to get control.

“You’re doing so well Nicky, I’m so proud of you,” she says because she knows that’s what he needs to hear and it’s the truth. “You’re going to wear that cage. Eight more days and then you’re going to come home and I’m going to take such good care of you.”

“I’m losing my mind a little, fuck. All I want to do is—”

“No, Nicholas, listen to me.” Cam makes her voice a little more stern and she hears his sharp intake of breath. “You tell me right now if you want to safeword out, and then you’ll go and wake Noah up and tell him you want your key. Is that what you want?”

The sound of the call changes and she can tell he’s put her on speaker. She hears the sound of water running and splashing, and then after a minute, he finally speaks again. “You know you’re the smart one in this relationship, right?”

She makes a face that he can’t see, filing that away to deal with once he’s home. “You said you could do this for me. But maybe I want you to do this for you, Nicky.”

“Eight more days,” he says. He still sounds shaky, but it’s kind of unavoidable. “I can do eight more days.”

“You can. And if you can’t, that’s okay too. But I think you’re gonna be just fine.”

He laughs, a little hysterical. “Ask me again in eight days.”

Cam chooses then to distract him and ask him about the tour, and it seems to work for a little while. It doesn’t really matter to her that it’s the middle of the night, she’s happy to talk to him as long as he needs her to. Eventually, neither of them can stop yawning and they say goodnight to one another.

The next few days seem to fly by and as far as she can tell, he’s handling it okay. There aren’t any more middle of the night phone calls where he’s begging to be let out, at least. She even asks Noah, without really asking him, how Nicholas is holding up. And while Noah’s got the second key, he’d only taken it under the explicit instructions that he was given no absolute details. He has to know what it’s for, but he’s perfectly capable of pretending to be deaf, dumb and blind about the situation unless Nicholas tells him his safeword. There’s doing a favor for a friend, like holding the spare key to his chastity cage, and then there’s talking about it.

Cam decides to meet up with the tour on the last day to surprise Nicholas. She books a hotel room for them for after the show because she’s got a feeling they’re not going to make it out of the state before Nicholas gets the cage off. It’s surprisingly easy for her to convince him she’s still at home, even when she all but sneaks off to the venue to pick up the pass that Bryan left for her. Everyone knows that she’s there, and she manages to avoid being spotted by Nicholas at all. He doesn’t even realize that she’s side stage.

It’s obvious how the cage is affecting him, she can see that much just from watching him out there. Nicholas’ playing might be fully controlled but the rest of his movements are frenzied and Cam stays out of his line of sight so as not to distract him. She watches as he paces between songs, and maybe she feels more than a tiny amount of joy at how worked up this has made him. Now, all she can think about is what’s going to happen when he realizes that she’s here. What’s going to happen when she gets him back to that hotel room? She can’t even imagine making him wait until they get home.

She moves even further out of the way as the show comes to an end. As the band comes off stage, they each see her as they go by and make their way back to the dressing room. Nicholas is last, and he doesn’t even realize she’s standing there at first, not until she calls out his name. Once he sees her, he passes his bass off to the first tech with free hands, and pulls Cam into his arms.

“You’re here!” he says, as if it’s not obvious. “I thought you were at home.”

He’s burning up like a furnace, but she still clings to him anyways, “I thought I’d come and surprise you. It’s day fourteen after all.”

His eyes go a little fuzzy and she sees the desperation in them. He’s got things that he has to do before she can fully steal him away for the rest of the night, and she gives him a guiding push towards the dressing room. She can feel how tense he is beneath her hands, but chooses to ignore it for now. The post show chaos is enough of a distraction for him, even though Cam can tell now that they’re closer together how twitchy he really is. 

“It’s gonna be a long drive home,” Nicholas says at one point.

“We’re not leaving just yet. I got a room for us for the night, I figured we’d just leave in the morning.”

It seems to click in his head that as soon as they leave the venue, he’s finally going to be getting out of his cage. He gives her a grateful look and rushes off to wrap things up, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste. Cam watches him go in amusement, mindful of the key that’s still around her neck, tucked beneath her hoodie.

By the time that the stage has been broken down and the equipment has been loaded, Nicholas looks as if he’s going to have some sort of breakdown if he doesn’t get to leave soon. If anyone else has noticed how off he is, they’re being very polite about it. For all Cam knows, they either already know or they’re scared that Nicholas will tell them exactly what’s going on and traumatize them all. She can never be too sure in this group.

He all but drags her out of the venue as they leave, and he’s practically squirming in his seat on the cab ride to the hotel. She was lucky he even thought to grab his bags from the bus before they left. But all it takes is one hand firmly placed on his knee and Nicholas seems to settle right away, blowing out a breath and leaning his head back against the seat.

“Not much longer,” Cam promises, and he gives her a jerky nod. “Hey, look at me. Are you absolutely okay?”

He turns his head and meets her gaze. His eyes are still a little unfocused, but he gives her another nod. “I’m okay. It’s just been a long two weeks. You’ll take it off once we’re in the room?”

“I promise, baby. I’m gonna take care of you.”

He’s a little more subdued once they get to the hotel, and once they get into the room, he sits his bags down with hers and turns around to look at her expectantly. Cam takes her time in pulling off her hoodie and taking off her shoes. His eyes immediately go to the key where it’s standing out against the front of her shirt, and she sees his hands twitch at his sides.

“Go ahead and take off your clothes for me?” she asks softly.

Nicholas hadn’t bothered to change out of his stage clothes before they left the venue, and he leaves everything in a messy pile on the floor. Cam knows the flush on his face and chest is still lingering post show endorphins, but she also knows he has one goal right now. Stepping closer to him, she undoes the clasp on the chain and takes the key off of it. She watches the way he shifts around almost nervously, and she presses up to kiss him on the forehead before turning her attention to the cage.

His breath hitches and he stifles a whine in the back of his throat as she unlocks the tiny padlock and eases the cage off of him. She doesn’t touch him any more than she needs to and when she raises her gaze to him, she can see tears of relief gathering in his eyes.

“Why don’t you go take a shower, it’ll make you feel better,” Cam catches his jaw in her hand, squeezing just a little. “But no touching.”

He looks as if he wants to argue, already half hard and moments away from full on pouting. It’s cute. But finally he grabs his shower stuff from one of his bags and disappears into the bathroom. Cam waits until she hears the water start before she finally moves from where she’s standing. Taking a deep breath, she goes through the normal motions that she does every night at home; makes sure both of their phones are plugged in, changes out of her clothes into one of Nicholas t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts that she probably won’t even be in that long. The check out time tomorrow isn’t until eleven in the morning, and she plans to use as much of that time as she can to their full advantage.

The shower cuts off and a few moments later Nicholas appears in the bathroom doorway, haphazardly drying off. She still thinks about that day in the hotel room in Wyoming when they got back together every time she sees him like this. She can’t help but walk over to him, taking the towel and scrubbing it through his hair for him. He’s still tense and she knows exactly what he needs.

“Come over here to the bed,” she says, pulling him along.

She crawls to the middle, leaning back against the pillows and Nicholas moves to follow her. She stops him before he can get close enough, gesturing for him to turn around so that his back is to her chest. He does it without complaint, though she’s sure he might be a little confused. Before he can ask, she leans in and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, before reaching over and picking up a bottle of lube off of the nightstand. She can feel it when his breath hitches in his chest.

“Camille—”

“Shhh,” she pours some lube into her hand and reaches down, wrapping her fingers around Nicholas’ cock. “Just let me take care of you first, okay? We’ve got all night.”

His only response to that is to arch up into her touch, a quiet moan falling from his mouth as she moves her fist in a slow stroke up. She pauses at the tip, giving him a gentle squeeze only to make him louder. Not wanting to rush this, she repeats the motion, enjoying every noise she drags out of him with each twist of her wrist. His hips rock up into her touch greedily, and Cam peppers kisses along his bare shoulder to urge him on.

“My needy boy, keep making those sounds for me,” she murmurs. Nicholas whines and squirms, one of his hands clamping down on her thigh. “You’re so hard for me, aren’t you? It doesn’t seem like you’re going to last that long. It’s been two weeks”

Cam doesn’t tell him he’s not allowed to come. It seems so cruel after he’s done so well while he was away. And she tells him so as she cards the fingers of her free hand through his hair, tugging just a little on the damp strands. She can tell that he’s trying not to come yet though, that he’s trying to drag this out even though she promised him she’d take care of him, and she speeds up her strokes. Each desperate sound he makes sinks into her skin and turns her on even more. But this isn’t about her right now, and she gives him all of the attention he deserves.

“Don’t hold back on my account, Nicky, just let go.” she urges.

He curses and knocks his head back against her shoulder, body going taught as he spills over her fingers and his stomach. She’d be surprised how messy it was if it hadn’t been so long for him. Eventually he’s got to wrap his hand around her wrist and pull her hand away, gasping for air. He grabs for the towel to clean them both off before flopping back against the bed.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, and Cam grins, leaning over to kiss him.

“Did you miss me, or did you miss orgasms?”

She’s fucking with him, because she can. He lets out an exasperated noise and gives her a playful shove, crawling over her. “Shut up, I’ll show you orgasms.”

“Oh, you're gonna get bossy on me now, Nicholas?” she asks. She loves the way he blushes at that.

“I don’t know,” he says with mock indifference. “You gonna lie back and let me take care of you now?”

She loves him like this too, and the answering kiss he gives her knocks her head back into the pillows and makes her stomach twist pleasantly. One of his hands comes up to cradle her jaw and she melts into the mattress when his other hand starts pulling at the waistband of her sleep shorts. Cam opens her mouth for him, lets him lick his way inside, and she reaches down to help get her shorts off. They get tangled around her ankles, but she manages to get them off and toss them aside. Nicholas’ hands move to get her out of her shirt, and then they’re skin to skin, finally.

“You didn’t answer my question, Cam,” he says as he drags his nose up her cheek. “Can I take care of you now?”

How the hell can she deny him when he asks her like that? “Of course you can, baby.”

He ducks his head down, kissing her neck tenderly, before he starts to move down her body. Cam would tease him about his oral fixation but honestly she wants his mouth on her as badly as he wants to put it there. Anywhere he wants. Rising up on her elbows, she watches as he drags that mouth over her stomach, across her hips. He grips the undersides of her legs, pushing them up until she hooks them over his shoulders like he wants. 

Cam sighs and sinks her fingers into his hair as he presses his mouth to her, a soft parody of a kiss that starts out slow but becoming more firm presses of his tongue as he tastes her, teasing over her clit. While she had no problem not teasing him tonight, he doesn't seem to have the same sentiment as he moves slowly in a deliberate way that says she hasn't been restricted from coming in fourteen days. A ridiculous sound escapes her lips and she scratches her nails over his scalp when he dips his tongue into her briefly before pulling back and licking upward again. When he lets go of one of her thighs long enough to slip one of his fingers inside of her, Cam shudders and her hips buck up.

She can feel his laughter against her, even when he never takes his tongue off her clit, but then he's adding in a second finger and causing her to squirm more. Her hips shift back and forth and he moves easily with her, letting her ride his face and yank his hair. She doesn't have to worry about hurting him, she knows he likes it. She was already on the edge to begin with, just from seeing him fall apart for her so easily earlier, but when he crooks his fingers up into that spot inside of her at the same time his lips close around her clit, she can't do anything but let herself fall back against the bed and let her orgasm wash over her.

Reaching down, she pulls him back up to her by the jaw and seals their lips together. She can feel him getting hard against her again and she reaches down to dig her nails into the flesh of his ass, just for him to twitch and grind into her. It doesn't matter to her that her entire body is still buzzing from her climax, she still needs him inside of her now.

Nicholas pulls back a little, “Turn over for me.”

He gives her the room she needs to roll over onto her stomach and she tries to stay still as he trails his lips up her back and shoulder. His hands are everywhere and she gasps as she feels him dragging his cock between her folds. When she tries to rock back and get him inside of her, he pulls back, laughing again.

“You’re gonna spend the drive home in that cage again Nicholas, I swear to god.”

“Promises promises,” he says with no small amount of glee at the idea that he has the upper hand here. “You’ve gotta have some patience, Camille. You said I could take care of you.”

She can’t exactly argue with his logic, Looking over her shoulder, she realizes that’s what he wanted. He wanted her eyes on him as he finally sinks fully inside of her. Her breath leaves her in a gasping rush, both of them freezing and reveling in the moment of being together like this again. Finally she gives in and she arches back into him. This time he lets her, his hands sliding up over the swell of her ass, tracing up her spine and sliding back down to grasp her hips. He pulls her back into each thrust and her mind starts to go fuzzy with overstimulation and the drag of his cock inside of her. Cam doesn’t think she needs to be touched to be able to come again, she thinks this is more than enough.

His forehead presses into the curve of her neck and she feels his teeth set into her skin. Her stomach clenches and she inhales sharply, mouth dropping open. It's just another sensation shooting through her body. One of her hands comes up to tangle in his hair, trying to keep him as close as possible. It’s in the back of her mind that every single hotel in the world has the most shitty insulation and they’re probably giving some poor soul an earful. Each lungful of air leaves her in a choking moan and every time Nicholas pulls back and starts mouthing at another section of skin she feels dizzy.

It's too much and she comes with a sob of his name. His hips piston into hers relentlessly, fucking her through her second orgasm as he chased his own. Cam can hear him whispering in her ear but his words are intelligible over the thudding of her heart in her chest. He finally comes, his fingers slotting between hers as he buries his face into her hair and goes still against her.

“Stay still for me,” he murmurs and Cam nods slowly. She doesn’t think she could move if he actually asked her to.

She hisses out a breath when he pulls out, long past embarrassed when she realizes she can feel his come dripping out of her. His touch skates over the back of her legs, and he nearly falls off of the bed to get another towel to clean her up with. She thinks about a shower, or taking advantage of the very big jacuzzi bathtub that this hotel room has, but it all requires moving. Sweat cools on her skin and eventually Nicholas lies back down beside her, pulling her over onto his chest.

“Thank you,” he says.

Cam’s eyebrows raise, “Are you thanking me for the sex, Nicky?”

He huffs out a breath, cheeks going a little pink. “I’m thanking you for believing that I could do what I did.”

“Oh, baby,” she reaches up to card her hands into his hair again, managing to lift herself up to press a kiss against his forehead. “I never doubted you for a second.”

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[bullet-prooflove]

USS Allegiance Series Part One: Baby On Board - Harmon Rabb x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @dizzybee03 @buckysteveloki-me @sca3a @burningpeachpuppy

Companion series to:

Flight Deck - It starts on the flight deck of the USS Allegiance.

Hourglass - You remember the moment you fell in love with Harm.

New Orleans (NSFW) - Harm wakes up the next morning to find you wearing his shirt.

The USS Allegiance is five hours away from port when Harm is notified about the newborn his Watch Commander finds in a rarely used storage hold. At first he thinks it’s a joke because to his knowledge he has no pregnant sailors upon his ship but it turns out to be the furthest thing from it.

“She’s in good health considering she’s a few weeks early.” He’s told by the ship’s doctor as he tickles the baby under the chin. “She needs airlifting to the nearest NICU, we’re not equipped to deal with her on board the carrier.”

“I’ll make the arrangements.” He promises as he looks down at the child.

A couple of hours old and all alone in the world…

It breaks his damn heart.

It’s only when he’s standing there, his fingertip clutched in the hand of the tiny newborn that the reality of the situation crashes down on him. They have possibly distraught mother AWOL on their ship. The urgency of the circumstances is compounded by the fact that they didn’t find the placenta with the newborn which means there’s a high chance of sepsis or haemorrhaging.  

It’s by a stroke of luck that you’re currently stationed nearby in Sydney, attached to Michelle Mackey’s team. His agent afloat is too green, he’s barely been with them a week and Harm can see his head practically spinning with the complexity of this problem. When Michelle sends you he’s relieved, not just because you have mental health training but because he knows the investigation is in safe hands.

He’s there to greet you when you step off the chopper and onto his flight deck. You have his duffle bag slung over your shoulder, the one with all his Aviation patches on. He’d given it to you when you’d made the transfer from LA.

“A little piece of me to keep with you.” He had whispered against your lips as he’d kissed you goodbye on the doorstep.

“Captain.” You greet as you pull off your helmet and his breath catches in his throat.

You’re just as beautiful as the day he deployed, a little more tanned, a little more freckled. Sydney seems agrees with you. The scent of the sea clings to your skin and he wonders if you’ve been surfing this morning. It’s something you’d taken up when you were residing back in Hawaii and it’s continued during your time in Australia. You and JD went out every couple of days, usually before work.

“I hear you had an unexpected visitor this morning.” You say interrupting his thoughts and he clears his throat, falling into step alongside of you.

“That would be correct.” He tells you heading towards the ship’s interior. “We’re keeping it quiet, we don’t want to spook the mom.”

He pulls open the door, gesturing for you to step inside. The back of your hand brushes against his and he captures your fingers, squeezing them for a second before releasing them.

“It really is good to see you.” He murmurs as you drift past him and you smile as you tilt your head towards him and say.

“I’m sure you’ll get to see a lot more of me after we get to the bottom of this.”

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[tojiscrack]

the dancing scene in the most recent chapter of liar, liar, MEGUMI BLUSHING FOR THE SECOND TIME AS HIS HANDS COLLIDE WITH HER WAIST, i’m crying so much rn. i have NO ONE to speak to about this fic, maybe it’s my period but i can’t get enough of them.

i don’t want them to go through angst, i just want it all to be fluff fluff fluff y’alllll. someone needs to make a fanclub or SOMETHING because it’s killing me how i have no one to speak to about this 😭😭😭

‘liar, liar’ masterlist here:

ik this message was sent in as early as yesterday, but i’ve been out all day and i’ve finally got the time to respond to it. apologies if i’ve left you waiting ☹️💓

i wanna start off by saying you’re literally the sweetest person to ever grace this planet. as i write this slice of life rom-com, i was hoping for the rom part of this com would take over in that scene, and if it’s got you squealing and giggling, ik my mission’s been accomplished 😇

“i have NO ONE to speak to about this fic” — YOU HAVE ME!!! 😤

message me, send me your theories, comment, like, reblog your thoughts, SPAM ME IF YOU MUST, i encourage all of it 😩 !!! i want to see long and juicy comments. small ones are amazing too, but ofc, the more, the merrier! it’s the best part about writing — and it helps me piece out what you like and don’t like so i can make this ride as enjoyable as ever 😗

you beautiful anon, this is the fan club. it’s a small little family of liars we have rn, but still a family nonetheless. don’t forget that 🥹 it does seem like a wonderful idea to talk about ur theories with each other so i can just spectate and laugh to myself about it all, but if you’re shy, you always have me, the writer, who will always respond to ur silly comments and goofy thoughts 🩷🩷🩷

[wanderingcas]

sneak peek sunday for my new fic 'where there is darkness', posting september 1st. scene: when cas first gets to the lighthouse

Castiel unwinds the thick braided rope, throwing it to the taller man of the two, who catches it, tying it around a post. 

“Got any books in that stack, too, Bobby?” the man, assumedly Sam, asks with a grin as he ties off the rope. 

“That, and a sick wet dog claiming to be your new assistant keeper,” Bobby says, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at Castiel. He picks up a crate, holding it over the portside for Sam to grab. 

“It’s slippery, so be careful when you step on the set-off!” Sam yells over the wind to Castiel as he grabs the crate, walking back to the door.

Castiel balks at the distance between the boat and the set-off, then at Bobby. 

“Time the rocking of the boat to the edge,” Bobby tells Castiel, “and then jump!” 

Now is the time Castiel decides he may well and truly lose his meager breakfast. 

He pulls out his suitcase from under the seat; Bobby takes it from him, clapping his back. “I’ll throw it to ya once you’re over there. Just focus on the jump.”

Castiel watches the gap between the boat and the rocks as the boat dances in the waves, back and forth: toward the landing, away from it. He counts the seconds each sway takes.

Now or never. 

He pushes off the side of the boat, leg outstretched. One foot hits the concrete landing, his slippery dress shoe failing to find purchase. As if in slow motion, he feels himself falling backwards, back towards the hungry yawn of the waves. 

A rough hand suddenly snatches his wrist. Castiel’s knee strikes the concrete as he’s hauled back toward ground, falling forward. 

He blinks up at the Principal Keeper, assumedly Dean Winchester, who frowns disapprovingly down at him. The sun peeks out of the clouds, casting a shadow over his stern face. 

“Thank you,” Castiel says, standing with a wince, heart still beating in his throat. “I didn’t—”

“Try to avoid killing yourself on the first day,” Dean snaps. He grabs the suitcase from Bobby and shoves it into Castiel’s chest before turning on his heel and disappearing into the door. 

Castiel looks to Bobby, who shrugs, hauling up another crate.

“He grows on ya,” he says, passing the crate over the gap to Castiel. “Like some species of mold.”

“Wonderful,” Castiel intones.

[totalswag]

hii, I’m not sure if you take request still but if so is there a possible way you can do a drew x singer!reader one shot take on how Sabrina “arrests” her fans before performing Juno for being too hot but the reader does it to Drew during her shows please 🫶🏼

arrested for being too hot — DREW STARKEY

authors note THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS!! my request box is still open so feel free to send me any ideas regarding singer!reader or regular fic ideas you’d like me to write. this was so much writing too. thank for all the love on my last fic lovies <3

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summary "arresting" drew, your boyfriend, during your show before performing your song from your new album.

warning(s) none!

You are on tour for your new album in-front of thousands of fans almost every night. You worked hard on this album and it turned out wonderfully. If it weren’t for the amazing fans of yours, you don’t know where you’d be in your career— they are the reason you are doing this.

Half way into the show— going amazing. The crowd tonight isn't disappointing you. Everything you've hoped for on this tour. You've performed eighteen songs and about to go onto your nineteenth. Played musical spin the bottle not long ago which was really fun.

Before Juno, you begin with a small "skit" where you call someone out in the crowd, arresting them for being too hot. This became a thing after your first show of the tour and doing it ever since. Plus, fans absolutely love it. Interacting with your fans has always been something you did and create those bonds.

Drew, your boyfriend, is attending the show with Madelyn Cline, a mutual friend and cast-mate of Drew's. You told him earlier today you wanted to arrest him in the middle of the show to get the audience excited and it would be fun.

Drew was all for it, and he didn't want you to tell him what you were going to say—he prefers surprises.

Your pink, glittering, dazzling clothing was sparkling in the lights. You pressed your free hand to your brow as though you were looking around for a call. With security, you could see Drew and Madelyn making their way to the front.

You begin by adjusting your earpiece while moving around the stage in your long skirt. "You guys know that moment when you are in a room filled with such beautiful looking people that you start to feel overwhelmed?" When fans applaud, you smile.

"Oh, girls, I think I just seen my future husband in the front row! Oh my god, girls, come here, come here," you say anxiously into the microphone, beckoning them over and waving your free hand.

You turn to face Drew as the girls approach you, asking, "Do you see that gorgeous looking man over in the front row with his arms crossed in the tan shirt?" You speak into the microphone aloud, pointing to Drew in the crowd.

Your girls joyfully waved at Drew while placing their hands on your shoulder. As Drew blushes on the big screen, the crowd reflexively turns up the volume in the arena. 

"What's your name handsome?" With your head cocked slightly to the right toward your shoulder, you inquire in jest. 

"Drew!" You can hear him when he places his hands on the side of his lips. He gives you a childlike smile and a flushed face.

You say, "I'm sorry I couldn't get that?" as though you couldn't hear him. Leaning forward more, you place your free hand behind your ear.

He shakes his head and utters "Drew!" a little louder. 

"Oh my Drew, I must say that you must be a magnet because you drew me in" brings a smile to your face. Your tone indicated that you were trying quite hard not to laugh, yet you kept your calm brilliantly.

Fans had their phones out, capturing the entire interaction. Nobody would have expected Drew to be the person arrested at your gigs since the tour began.

"Drew, you are under arrest for being too hot," you say aloud, smiling and pointing at him— fanning yourself, moving your hips side to side as the sound of sirens going off with blue and red lights behind.

You put your left elbow against your girls shoulder, "guys do you ever just see someone so good looking that you just don't know what to do and all your clothes fall off in that moment" your long skirt slips off smoothy.

"Like your brain just like malfunctions and like I just wanna handcuffed to you now like," one of your girls puts the pink fluffy handcuffs into your hand, you kneel down, "do you know what I mean? Will you take these from me?"

Drew is overwhelmed in this very moment— it's very obvious how much you are affecting him. Drew gives you a gimme me gesture with his fingers, ready to catch the hand cuffs.

He takes them in his hands, looks down, and feels the smooth texture of the fuzzy. He tilts his head to the side before slowly glancing up at you with a smirk—keep in mind that he's still on the big screen.

"We're gonna sing this one to you, Drew."

Juno's song intro starts playing. You wave goodbye to Drew and Madelyn as you return to the center of the stage. You could hear the two begin speaking to fans in the distance.

Drew and Madelyn met you in the dressing room following the show. After giving Madelyn a hug and thanking her for attending the event, you moved to approach Drew and put your arms around his neck while grinning.

"That was insane," Madelyn exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. "What about the full call-out and the handcuffs? Iconic! "You're the talk of the night; everyone is crazy about it."

You giggled as your face heated up. "It seemed right." "You should have seen his face!"

She laughs, "I got the whole thing on video, I'll send it to you later."

"I'm going to give you two some alone time, but you did such an amazing job tonight and looked so hot doing it," Madelyn adds, taking your hands in her and wiggling her brows. 

"Thank you, babe. I love you always," you say, hugging her before she leaves you and Drew alone. 

When you close the door, Drew comes behind you, placing his arms around your waist and kissing you on the cheek, making you laugh with the tenderness of his lips.

"I'm so proud of you baby, you did such an amazing job on stage and looked unbelievable in your outfits made me feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world." He expresses emotionally, which uplifts you. 

"Coming from you, it warms my heart baby. Forever grateful to have you in my life," you smile softly, leaning against his chest, feeling that sense of warmth you always feel whenever you are with him.

"And I'm forever grateful for you" he quietly responds, kissing the top of your head.

"So what are we gonna do with those pink fuzzy handcuffs?"

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[bunnis-monsters]

Tall, beyond mortal comprehension, and handsome?

Male!Tentacle Monster x Fem!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober Event

Oct 7th

Oct 6th

Oct 8th

A/N: sorry for the late entry, I was exhausted lately!! You’ll get two posts today in exchange ><

warnings: breeding, oviposition, egg laying

summary: When you want more intimacy while being bred, your tentacle monster sugar daddy is happy to help!

You’d been working as a human surrogate for a tentacle monster for nearly a year now. Every month you’d come by and let the tentacles have their way with you for a few hours, and walk away a few thousand dollars richer.

Getting used to having a distended, pregnant belly every day was definitely something you had to get used to, but you really didn’t mind. You were paid well, but part of you yearned for something more.

Maybe you were just too spoiled… you wanted to be held and kissed and embraced while tentacles ravaged your body. Was that too much to ask for?

So when you went back the next month for another batch, the tentacle creature seemed to notice that your mood was… different.

There was already a tentacle pumping in and out of your fat cunt, another set using their suckers to latch onto your perky nipples…

But soon the tentacles slowed, one reaching out to caress your cheek.

‘You’re upset.’

The creature didn’t have a mouth, so it spoke directly into your mind as per usual.

‘Is something wrong?’

You pouted, letting out a soft whine as the tentacle in your cunt slowly slid out. “… it’s just…”

You rested your chubby cheek against one of the large, soft tentacles keeping you in the air. “It would be nice if I could put a face to the creature stuffing me full of eggs every month… maybe get some kisses and have some intimacy too…”

The tentacles began to shift, and before your very eyes the form of a… very cute boy with green skin and dark eyes appeared before you. His cheeks were flushed and his cock was hard… it seemed he didn’t expose his true self very often.

“If that will make you feel better… I heard females can be impregnated with more success when they orgasm…”

The tentacles pulled you closer, and his lips met yours. His arms wrapped around your waist, feeling around your body with a curios and eager touch. It was clear he didn’t get to really enjoy the touch of a woman much.

“You’re so soft…” he murmured, kissing down your neck as you bounced on his cock and took a tentacle down your throat. “I think we should do this more often…”

You left that night more swollen with eggs than ever, and a fat tip in your account the next morning.

Want more? You get the drill, send me a Kofi and ask for it!

———————

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