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subskz · 1 year ago

Text

…i lost the tag limit war

the reader changing the subject the instant she feels seen by minho is such a subtle but valuable hint that i think says a lot abt the type of person she is, that moment really stood out to me! i know i literally just said this but right down to every minute detail, you've characterized both lino and the reader so masterfully it has to be the most enjoyable aspect of this story for me...and on top of that i just love how you write their conversations so much, they’re both such lil nerds…my intellectually stimulating smarties debating w each other even now 🥰 it all feels so comfortable and natural and draws me into their relationship w such ease!

their discussion abt colors is hands down one of my favorite scenes in all of invisible thread!! it's such an oddly heartwarming conversation and that perfect, out-of-the-box way of thinking that’s just so undeniably minho...it almost reminds me of synesthesia how he describes feelings through color! "the very essence of our humanity" "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean" the way you embodied each colors through emotions/experiences was so wonderfully done, i understood each one instantly like it was a picture being visualized before my eyes. it makes it even more touching that minho and the reader come to understand each other on a whole new level through that way of communicating their moods <3 and for some reason when he gives the example "i feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to" that really tugged at my heartstrings ㅠ it almost feels like he isnt just giving a hypothetical there, like he's giving a small glimpse into his true feelings without saying it outright. maybe he feels invisible deep down, too

them falling asleep together on facetime was so soft and tender ㅠㅠ leave it to lino to ramble abt sous-vide as a bedtime story and complain abt getting SCAMMED lmao the way that is actually smth he would say 😭 "he closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on" this line got me so good ): it seems at first that he's bringing the reader peace but she's bringing him peace in her own way as well...her feelings abt his eyes changing from fear to longing is such a lovely detail and HER COMPLIMENTING THEM!!! HIS STUNNED REACTION </3 "this is the first genuine compliment he's ever received" oh my god does my moss green theory actually have any merit.....does he really feel invisible to the world too...do not do this to me sahar ㅠㅠ but the way he thinks such lovely, adoring things abt the reader in that moment but instead of voicing them he whines abt being hungry....so endearing and so HIM i cant get enough of how youve written minho here ur singlehandedly reminding me why he is allegedly the love of my life

the kintsugi mention made my heart leap in my chest!!! "when you look at that vase, you know it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty" please...that sentence in itself is so moving when you apply it to the context of what the reader has been through her whole life, not just a single crack but repeated breakages. and for it to come from someone like minho; it feels like exactly what the reader needs to hear to truly begin to heal herself...he doesn't coddle her but is still so gentle, putting things into perspective like nobody else can w his unique worldview and mental strength ㅠㅠ and i think i just lost my mind realizing that this scene loops right back to the clay comparison you drew at the beginning of the story oh my GOD....the reader is like a clay pot molded by her mother, broken in places and repaired over and over to create smth still damaged but just as valuable...and lino is the gold filling in the cracks....sahar you are INSANE for this one im kissing ur brain and tucking it gently into bed

the scene w minho in the rain 😞 i was not prepared to see my meow meow upset...but i love the way you wrote it so much. how oddly quiet he is, even to the point where he's not commenting in class or teasing her, and that's the key detail that lets the reader know smth's off w him...i also love that nothing in particular caused his low mood. it's such a human quality, and he allows himself to be human and feel his feelings until they pass. "he knew his emotions would regulate themselves" i cant explain why this line stood out to me so much i really love it, i think it's just such a shining example of minho's mindset...not necessarily optimistic, but practical enough to not be completely swamped by the darkness either. it creates such an interesting contrast to the reader's personality to see how they both handle their emotions, w her pushing hers away and him letting them run their course. but the fact that he typically tries to retreat into himself until he feels better, yet strangely enough, he doesn't mind it as much as he'd expect when the reader catches him in a vulnerable state...my babies ㅠ i also really loved the part where he uses her shower and thinks abt the scent of her soap as he washes up, it's so so sweet n intimate i'm such a sucker for things like that ): there are so many small things minho notices abt her like it's the most natural thing in the world, they're both so attentive of one another

"you were both just trying to make it through the day" and "he knew he wasn't invisible. at least not to you" were critical hits to my heart...it feels like a breakthrough in their relationship—the first time the reader truly truly sees minho, all sides of him, and she accepts them all without question <3

the gradual progression of their friendship is so gratifying to read bc of how organically you made it all flow together!! i adore the entire sequence that shows us how they start to care for each other more and more…the casual intimacy of the reader applying her lip tint to his lips (and him not studying for his quiz on purpose 😭💗 come ON) lino worrying abt her eating enough, the reader tying his bangs out of his eyes, complimenting him so matter-of-factly, and him BLUSHING ALL OVER THE PLACE it’s so over for me x2 they are so tender in their actions even when they tease each other nonstop. it all leads up so perfectly to the point in the story where minho finds himself being drawn to her apartment without even realizing it when he doesn't feel well. the subtle shift from him initially trying to shut her out bc he's so used to managing his bad days on his own, to him eventually leaning in to her kindness and seeking her company instead...and the way she just understands what he needs immediately, allows him to sit in silence and simply exist in peace next to her. describing his mood as "too much of every color" really struck a chord w me as well...i'm just so so in love w the running theme of colors you included throughout this story, it's such a brilliant way to put emotions into words <3

the lil parallels here n there from the beginning of their relationship until now are so cute as well; how lino makes breakfast for her the first time and leaves before she wakes up, but this time, he promises to stay and eat with her...to not be invisible ㅠㅠ i think what's making me craziest of all is how they're both so hyperaware of each other's touch. like when their shoulders brushed while sharing the reader's umbrella, how the reader suddenly finds it difficult to concentrate on her book when lino holds her wrist as she shields him from the sunlight...and little does she know it's the exact same for him too, like when she rested her head on his thigh and all he could focus on was the sensation of her hair tickling him 😭 they are so enamored w each other and have become so tangled up in each other little by little...they don't even fully realize it yet but they've made a permanent place in each other's lives now

"you were already on the other side, you realize. his eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey" oh my GOD!!! ㅠㅠㅠㅠ her feelings abt minho's eyes changing from fear, to longing, to at last the comfort of getting to see the other side of those black holes...this line hit me like a truck it might be my favorite from the entire fic ㅠ i have a feeling i'll be saying that abt many more lines to come when you verbalize things in the most poetic ways imaginable heheh but this one truly got me so good, the delicacy in which you describe minho makes the reader's growing affection for him all the more heart-fluttering~

minho hesitating to wipe her tears )): the way he's so careful abt touching her in any unwarranted way bc he can sense that she shies away from skinship is so devastatingly sweet...and then him pinching her right after to make her stop crying NEVERMIND I CANT STAND HIM ACTUALLY. but the way he consoles her is so endearing and so so minho...very simple and sincere, he knows her well enough to immediately figure out the best way to take her mind off of the issue instead of dwelling on it. "you didn't care what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it" i've already pointed out so many lines oh my god i'm so sorry but each one is like another arrow through my heart ㅠㅠ i feel like this sentence is such a perfect testament to the reader and lino's relationship; they've both seen each other at their best and worst and it doesn't change anything abt their feelings, they care for each other unconditionally 😞 also the reader being afraid of physical touch bc she craves it is SO heartbreaking but so raw...i think it aligns so well w her past bc she's so used to either being invisible, or only being perceived negatively when she is perceived. it makes perfect sense how terrifying she'd find it to bare herself to minho when her whole life she's been deprived of genuine affection...you've really done such a phenomenal job of characterizing both her and lino i cant say it enough!

now...the entire final scene...where do i even begin...i had a feeling the climax of the story was going to hurt but not like this ㅠㅠ the reader's inner turmoil as she debates reaching out to her mother again, that conflicting mix of hating her yet somehow still missing her...it's such an inexplicable and confusing feeling for ppl who have experienced that kind of neglect but so so real and you captured it so candidly. it really added a whole new layer to the reader's humanity, for her to be unable to completely let go of their relationship no matter how painful it is to hold on to...for her to cling to the hope that maybe she could be worth smth to her mother if she did everything right ): i genuinely had the exact same reaction as her when you revealed that her mother had deleted her phone number...it felt precisely like a bucket of ice cold water to the head. the reader trying to pinpoint the exact moment in time where her mother stopped loving her was what really crushed me most...what a heart-wrenching sentence ㅠㅠ the fact that she's tried to hard to find solace in other places and people and tried to grow into her own person after entering university, but even so, those marks left from her childhood are still there...a vase full of cracks 💔 as much as it hurts to read, i love that you included this bump in the road of her healing journey and made a point to highlight that healing isn't linear

and minho 😭😭😭😭😭 the way he handled the reader's outburst is so touching...the way he's immediately able to recognize that her feelings are misplaced and smth much deeper is going on beyond what he sees on the surface...using that astuteness to put his own feelings to the side in the moment is so minho. this entire scene is just blossoming with powerful lines i can't forget, but i was especially affected by the reader saying "i'd need you and i can't afford to need someone else." it's such a tragic summarization of her in my opinion...how she went her whole life being unable to rely on anyone but herself, so the moment she's faced w minho, all her instincts say to reject it no matter how badly she craves that intimacy ㅠㅠ and lino saying "i'll be by your side for as long as you'll have me" is such a beautiful declaration of love...it's so selfless and unconditional, and it fits so seamlessly w how their relationship progressed throughout the story, how they were by each other's sides at their best and worst moments.

"the world doesn't stop because we need it to" "we'll make it stop" and then describing their kiss as like "seeing color for the first time"...i'm going to melt into an inconsolable puddle over all these callbacks to their first date together don't think i didn't catch the ways you weaved those in throughout this final scene..you made it feel so complete, like things have come full circle. i already mentioned how much i loved their conversation abt describing colors to the blind, so for their first kiss to be written that way, like the reader was blind to the true color of the world until she met minho....i am going to be ill that is so intensely romantic sahar ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

"he was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together." another heartaching line ): what a way to personify the quiet love minho provides...it may be invisible to everyone else, but not to her

i'm so sorry for my horrifically long comment haha but i'm just thrilled i was finally able to read this beautiful fic 😞 just as i'd predicted, you're a phenomenal writer!! the amount of love and effort you poured into it went above and beyond, i hope you're so proud of yourself for creating such a stunning work!! it's very clear to me how every interaction you wrote between minho and the reader was so carefully thought out and so meaningful to the overarching theme of the story, it's all done with care and purpose and there's smth special to be found in each line of dialogue! it's like you carefully stacked more and more on to the foundation of their bond until before we know it, there's an entire home there that they built steadily together. that kind of subtle progression is my absolute favorite thing. i'm also so blown away by how the reader's mother, though never actually making an appearance until the final scene, has such an heavy impact over the narrative. it's like she's a ghost haunting the reader's every action, every decision, every inner thought...i find it so impressive how you were able to incorporate that effect into the story without us even needing to meet the mother! and i must've mentioned countless lines that stuck w me throughout the fic, but just know that there are countless more i could've pointed out as well...you truly write so so beautifully. so poetic and emotive, but also not so flowery that it becomes hard to follow, i'm truly floored by your ability to achieve that perfect balance! on top of the story being so immersive in itself, your writing style made invisible thread such a genuine delight to read <3

this feels like the kind of story i'll be thinking abt for a long time after finishing it, the kind to revisit over n over bc i'm sure there are so many lil easter eggs you included that i may have missed! i'm positive i'll come back to it many times in the future hehe...but i can't wait to read more of your writing as well! ^_^

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you.

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence.

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl.

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone.

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake.

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you.

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties."

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice."

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts.

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm.

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory.

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy.

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them.

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out.

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better.

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day.

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face.

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance.

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?"

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

"Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet."

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you.

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him.

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably.

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before.

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year.

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

"Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food."

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display.

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces.

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?"

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn.

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring.

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face.

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout.

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down.

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner.

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit.

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting.

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice.

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden.

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you.

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words.

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly.

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly.

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon.

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story.

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on.

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems.

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant.

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you.

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only.

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it.

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it.

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place.

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face.

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods.

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study.

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is.

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning.

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it.

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his.

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you.

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room.

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile.

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him.

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue.

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname.

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow.

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips.

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat.

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles.

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands.

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it.

This was something friends think about, right?

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you.

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again.

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading.

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time.

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me."

"Don't mind me. Do your thing."

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too.

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course.

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving.

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere.

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin.

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you.

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into.

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him.

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own?

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again.

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you.

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey.

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed.

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly.

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it.

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe.

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body.

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago.

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now.

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly. You hated how weak you felt in that instant.

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds.

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him.

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

"Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people.

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly.

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again."

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will.

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment.

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up.

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie.

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone.

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you."

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you.

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now.

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him.

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down.

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves.

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic.

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you.

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?"

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face.

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music.

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key.

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing.

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance.

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck.

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life.

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again.

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you.

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity.

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features.

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it.

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome."

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?"

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?"

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you.

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him.

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly.

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will."

"Okay."

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer."

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply.

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds.

That's four seconds more than the first time.

Progress.

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days.

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting.

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her.

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her.

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold.

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are.

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called.

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay.

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart.

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain.

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her?

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself.

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing.

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better."

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure.

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob.

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug.

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho.

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along.

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm.

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace.

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head.

"I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first.

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore.

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you."

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

#FINALLY!!! turning the lights down low scattering rose petals lighting candles…my date w invisible thread is upon me at last 🥰#also i’m doing a sahar-style live reaction so apologies if i comment on literally every little thing that happens hehe im excited #hitting me w the clay metaphor right off the bat...i'm in awe of how perfectly you described childhood development w just a single analogy #molding the reader when she’s young n impressionable and leaving those imprints to harden beyond repair even after she's grown #what a beautifully melancholy way to describe her relationship w her mother and how it affects her view of herself i love it so much ㅠ #lesm inho. leemingo. LEMINHO!!! THE LAZY SMILE NOO U ALREADY GOT ME 😭😭😭 it’s so fucking over and i only just started oh my god #his eyes being the first thing she notices when they meet…the reader is just like me fr but describing them as black holes that draw her in #is making me crazy IT’S SO TRUE!!!! the most mesmerizing eyes known to man that warp space n time this comparison is absolutely stunning #the chill in his hand reminding her of a horrible memory like that 😞 so heartbreaking but also such a clever way to give insight into #the reader's character as well as insight into the the type of relationship she n lino will have and how it will likely resurface old wound #“u weren't sure what u would find on the other side nor did u have any desire to find out” u conveyed the odd magnetism of his eyes SO WELL #im very glad she got a higher grade than him i was not prepared for the smugness that would ensue if he beat her -_-; but a detail i really #adore is how casually lino takes the loss i feel like it goes to show that he truly doesnt have any ill intent despite being so provocative #the cat cafe is called limbo PLEASE THATS SO CUTE 😭 lino mimicking her words…n dodging the pillow i cant stand him actually #to be minho is to be insufferable and get away w it…she should throw a brick at his head next (<- madly in love)#oh my god the part where he laughs at her for hitting her head but from that point on covers that edges of the tables to protect her 😭😭😭#i’m going to be sick to my stomach thsi is the most minho expression of care on earth. all the careful linoisms u included are killing me ㅠ #comparing his eyelashes to the wings of a butterfly ARE U KIDDING!! that has me clutching my heart it's such delicate n gentle beauty #i love that he’s just as competitive as the reader but in a much more lighthearted way…he sees it almost like a game whereas she sees it as #a very serious demonstration of her worth. minho eventually becoming the one she wants to prove herself to rather than her mother #is so intensely sweet and heartwrenching at the same time ): in just a few months he's shown her a healthier love than her mother ever did #THEIR FIRST SNOW TOGETHER NONONO 😭 this entire scene has me inconsolable oh my god LINO W HIS SNOWBALL HE IS SO ANNOYINGLY CUTE #“u cant decide if ur shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him” critical hit on my heart…u painted such a #lovely picture of his laughter i can clearly envision his wild giggles and the way his entire body laughs w him when he’s really excited ㅠ #I WAS GONNA COMMENT ON THE SNOW NOT SPARKING THAT SAME AWFUL MEMORY THIS TIME 😭 his laughter brought her so much warmth she didnt even have #the chance to think abt it i'm so devastated by this parallel…little by little she’s healing w him and melting the frost her mother left #the way the reader grabs her fork to threaten him like he did w the spoon HELP theyre rubbing off on each other without even realizing it #every character detail u included is so well thought out u did a brilliant job ㅠㅠ it makes them human and the story all the more immersive #lino letting her eat first while he cooks the meat and him blushing everywhere when she feeds him MY BABY 😞💔 he thinks he’s so slick…#asking how she’d dispose of a body over dinner…lee minho master of romance everyone 🙏 but literally OF COURSE HE WOULD

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yourcutelittlegayfriend · 30 days ago

Text

Imagine this

I've been reading some of this good fics about Yandere Batfam x neglected Reader and it got me thinking.

In some of this fic, usually it's Alfred that has given the reader some love and have not neglected the poor thing and I was like,

What if Reader is still neglected by the batfam but Alfred gave them enough love so much that reader just decided to stay just for Alfred and Reader really just treated Alfred as their real Father or Grandfather.

Where Reader just let go of any expectation from getting attention from the others and just strive to make Alfred proud and happy.

How the turns have table

Imagine reader walking pass the others not bothering to greet them as they look for Alfred instead and other stuff.

Dick seeing them practically skipping as they clutch on a medal hanging on their neck.

"Woah hey!-...um whatcha got-". He tries to say but doesn't get any answers because you were busy muttering to yourself 'I got first place! I have to show this to Alfred!' as you giggle while looking down at the medal and sprint away when you see a glimpse of the butler at the distance.

How instead of begging for the others to train you and become a vigilante, you ask Alfred to train you for self-defense (especially the stuff from his spy days).

Jason was the first to arrive at the manor when the team heard about some intruders getting in but halted when he sees you tying up the unconscious thugs on the floor.

"Hey Alfred is this right?". You didn't pay them any mind when some of them pile in as you pay attention to Alfred who was praising you and giving you more good defense tips while you and him pull the unconscious people out.

How you spend healthy family time with Alfred by helping him in cooking and chores that earns you some knowledge of the recipes from his famous dishes.

Tim was trying to grab a coffee when he sees you having a fun time with Alfred as you skillfully prepare for dinner and actually have good laughs with him.

"Okay, then after I fold this I should add some paprika, right?". You ask the butler as he smiles at you while sipping on the tea that you made for him.

"Yes, you're correct once again young miss/master". He said while humming after drinking the tea indicating how good it is.

Tim can practically see you lighting up as you cheered a 'yes!' from Alfred's confirmation.

How you revolved your time and passion to Alfred and actually deciding that only Alfred is the one you should waste your time on.

Damian wonders around the manor when you and him bump into one another.

"And what are YOU doing walking around MY Father's manor?". He asks while glaring at you.

you just sigh and turn while clutching away the art supplies you bought so you can paint in the garden with Alfred.

"Walking away from you that's what I'm doing". you tell him as you turn the other way not even bothering to argue with the boy anymore.

How you do well in your studies and aim to get a good degree/phd and act like a proper man/lady but not because you want to keep up to being a Wayne but to see Alfred's proud face as he watches you stand on the stage as you show him your diploma/degree certificate.

Bruce decided to take a walk from sitting down for too long when he walk pass a framed picture on the hallway near Alfred's room and double takes when he sees you and Alfred standing together with while you were wearing a toga and cap holding not just any graduation certificate but a college one as the both of you look so happy and him seeing Alfred having that loving and well pleased expression something he rarely sees from Alfred after becoming the crusading dark knight.

Looking at the date he couldn't believe that it has been more that a few years since the graduation happened.

All of the family who used to ignore you suddenly took a different turn and started to try and get your attention but they fail to see that you already moved on from them and only cared about the one person that have literally loved you from the beginning.

Bonus:

Imagine Thomas and Martha Wayne was mysteriously revived for a day and met the family but was deeply disappointed to the others and took a special liking to reader because Alfred has said many good things about them and them especially getting many good degrees something that the rest haven't gotten yet or never bothered to get (this is my hot take because my family are hellbent on us cousins to finish school) and you know for a fact that Alfred is really REALLY proud of the kid that he raised preciously

#x neglected reader #batfam x reader #yandere #yandere batfam

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puckinghischier · 20 days ago

Text

Quick Study

Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

WARNING: SMUT! minors DNI. 18+. unprotected sex, fingering, oral fem!recieving, oral m!receiving, p in v, smut with the smallest sliver of plot. praise kink if you squint sideways and upside down.

summary: quinn loves to help you experience new things

notes: so…i don’t know what happened i think i blacked out tbh. this is kinda on theme with the request but also kinda not?? more so inexperienced!reader than in innocent!reader. idk my fingers had a mind of their own okay? enjoy 🫶🏼

request: I read a post that headcanons Quinn getting off on teaching you things and how to do things well, and that has just convinced me he has a thing for innocence… feel like that could be a great premise for smut

[4.4k]

Quinn has always been praised for his patience and willingness to teach those around him. It’s likely what landed him his new captain residency, but he likes teaching. He always said if he didn’t make it in the league he’d like to be a teacher and a coach, spreading his knowledge of history and hockey to the next generation.

What he didn’t realize until he met you, though, was how much he really enjoyed teaching.

He loved explaining the game to you, seeing your eagerness to pay attention and learn for him. Watching you glance at the cheat sheet he made you on your phone during games, making sure you’re able to keep up with the various penalties called, has him puffing out his chest a bit.

He loved explaining to you the most recent book he was reading, telling you all about the time period and the historical context of whatever story piqued his interest that week. He’d notice the empty space on the bookshelf after he finishes the book, glancing over to your side of the bed to discover the book with your bookmark tucked neatly between its pages, heart swelling when you’d bring it up over dinner, wanting to learn about his interests.

What he loved the most, though, was figuring out everything he could teach you.

He knew when the two of you first met that you were fairly inexperienced, not having ever really dated much before, but once he realized how inexperienced you really were? His mind went wild with the possibilities.

There was a certain pride he felt in being the person to guide you through all of these new experiences, never rushing you, always making sure you were one hundred percent comfortable before he tried anything new. He encouraged you to ask as many questions as you needed, telling you there’s never any reason to feel embarrassed around him.

He’d note the way you’d sit there and take in every word as he explained the different scenarios and sensations certain actions could elicit from your body, eyes wide and hungry. The second he would open the conversation for any questions or clarifications he could see the nervousness creep in, almost retracting into yourself out of embarrassment.

“I just…I don’t know exactly what you mean. You can…you know…feel that just from your mouth?” you’d ask him, voice barely above a whisper and eyes darting all over the room.

“Oh, darling, I can’t wait for you to experience the amount of things I can make you feel with my mouth,” he would nearly groan out, both angered and thankful that no other guy you’ve ever been with allowed you to experience all that the body has to offer.

Your cheeks would instantly heat, but not out of embarrassment. Quinn could see the gears turning in your head, the slight adjustment of your thighs coming closer together hinting to him how much you’re enjoying the picture painted in your head.

The day you told Quinn you had never experienced an orgasm, though? He was nearly seeing red.

“What do you mean you’ve never ‘gotten there’” he repeated your own words, not realizing the harsh tone of his voice until you looked away from him, watching your face contort into an expression of guilt.

“I- I don’t know. I mean, the couple of times I’ve actually…you know…went there with a guy, it never really happened. I guess I was doing something wrong, I don’t know,” you spoke softly, shrugging meekly.

Quinn took a deep breath, calming himself the way he would on the ice, before scooting closer to you and grabbing your hands. “You could never do anything wrong, you hear me? The fact that the fools you were with before were too sorry to make sure you were taken care of, and apparently didn’t know what the hell foreplay was, is not your fault.”

Nodding slowly, you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and chewed on it lightly. “I think…I want you to show me,” you said so quietly Quinn thought he imagined it.

“Say that again?” he needed you to clarify, wanting to make sure he’s not just hearing what his dick wants to hear.

You inhale, preparing yourself to put on your brave face and finally find the courage to tell a guy what you want. “I want you to show me. Teach me what it’s like. I want to experience it with you.”

And damn. If that didn’t get Quinn’s dick rock fucking hard. The idea of showing you everything you’ve been missing, everything he knows he can make you feel? He could almost come right here on the couch, never even having to touch your skin.

Quinn didn’t say a word, simply grabbing your hand and prompting you to stand, leading you to the bedroom that was practically shared at this point, considering how often you stayed at his apartment.

He sat you down on the edge of the bed, standing in front of you and looking down at your big, round eyes. He had to remind himself this was about you, and not to get too ahead of himself.

Bringing a hand up to caress your face, brushing away a small strand of hair, he rests his hand on your jaw, thumb brushing over your soft, pink lips. Using the slightest bit of pressure, he wedges his thumb in-between them, causing them to part just enough for him to slip it into your warm and inviting mouth.

He feels your tongue swirl around the tip of his finger, never once breaking eye contact with him. He closes his eyes, the image in front of him overloading his brain. The second you start to suckle on the rough pad of his digit, he jerks his hand back, surprising you.

“Sorry, did I do something wro-“

“No, never,” he interrupts you, voice low and gravely. “But this is about you and I can’t let myself get carried away.”

Opening his eyes, he sees the flush come back to your cheeks, watching the outline of your tongue rolling around in your cheek. “I want to learn,” you look at him with pleading eyes.

“I know, baby, we’re gonna get there, promise,” he assures you, catching your chin between his thumb and index finger.

You shake your head back and forth, “No, I want to learn how to please you.”

Quinn can feel every ounce of blood in his body make its way straight to his already near painful cock. The innocence and eagerness on your face making his knees buckle.

“I’ve never…given a…a blowjob before,” you stuttered, your bashfulness from earlier coming back. “I never felt like I’d do a good job, and I didn’t want to disappoint anyone and scare them away, so I always said no. But I want you to teach me. Please?” you pleaded, using your eyes to convey your willingness.

If there was ever a world record for how fast a man can come without even being touched, Quinn would say he’s a pretty close contender right now.

He clears his throat, trying to choke down the groan that nearly came out. “I- uh. Are you sure?” is all he’s able to sigh out, feeling like an idiot because he can’t even form words.

You nod your head silently, not knowing if you could find the courage to ask again.

“Fuck, baby,” Quinn shudders, swallowing thickly, bringing a hand down to readjust himself in his sweats.

Figuring you need to show some sort of initiative, you bring your hand up to replace his, cupping him over the thin material.

Quinn’s entire body jerks forward at the feeling of your small hand covering him, resting his hands on your shoulders for support.

Your breath catches, not expecting to receive such a reaction from him, but it only encourages you to keep going, squeezing just enough to apply a slight pressure to his length.

Quinn grunts, shuddering at the sensation. “Fuck, Y/N.”

The sound of his voice, a slight whine but still deep and powerful, shoots a bolt of arousal straight between your legs. You start stroking his still clothed shaft, enjoying teasing him.

“Show me what to do, Q,” you whisper seductively, his actions only growing your confidence in your actions.

With his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, he wastes no time in moving your hand and ripping the sweatpants down so roughly his dick literally springs free. He sighs at the lack of constriction, creating a sweet friction with his own hand.

Seeing him bare for the first time, you feel the extra saliva form in your mouth, wanting nothing more than to wrap your lips around him and find out how his skin tastes.

Too lost in the beauty of the man in front of you, you don’t realize he’s gazing down at you, watching how in awe you are of him.

“Babygirl, you can’t look at me like that and expect me to last longer than three seconds once you start touching me,” he snaps you out of your daze, drawing your eyes to his face.

You blush, focusing on the bedroom floor to hide your eyes from him.

Bringing his hand back up to your face, he forces you to look up at him, the intensity of the moment making you squirm.

“Touch me,” he commands, rubbing his thumb back and forth on your chin.

Following his instructions, you grasp him in your hand again, moving your hand gently across the textured skin.

You pump slowly, waiting for Quinn to tell you your next move.

“Shit, faster,” is all he whimpered, moving his hips to meet your motions.

Moving your wrist a little faster, you’re so taken with the sounds he’s making you hardly feel the bruising grip he has on your shoulder, grounding himself to you.

“Quinn, wanna taste you,” you whined, watching the precum leak from his pink tip, tongue darting out to lick your lips in anticipation.

“Okay, just-” he shudders, interrupted by a moan, “just, no teeth. And don’t take too much, hollow your mouth out a bit, and keep using your hand if you need to.”

Belly swirling with nerves and excitement, you position yourself a little farther onto the edge of the bed, face to face with his strained cock.

Taking a deep breathe, you test the waters by placing a chaste kiss on his tip, licking the salty precum off of your lips. Opening your mouth, you take the plunge and follow his instructions, hollowing out your cheeks as your mouth rolls over his length, your tongue feeling the weight of his thickness.

You look up at him as he watches you, waiting for any hint of praise in what you’re doing, wanting to make sure you’re doing it right.

“Shit, just like that, baby, keep going,” he encourages, feeling you stop when his tip tickles the back of your throat.

You will yourself not to gag, enjoying the feeling of your tongue against his cock too much. Trying to combat the feeling, you swirl your tongue around him, feeling every ridge and vein.

Quinn is fighting against every muscle in his body, from wanting to bring his hands to your head and push your mouth further onto him, to wanting to snap his hips forward and bury his dick in your throat.

“Can move a bit if you want,” he hisses out as your tongue runs across his sensitive tip once again. “Doing so good, though. Feels unreal. Don’t know how you’ve never done this before.”

You want to smile, but can’t with your mouth full of him, so you start bobbing your head instead, slow and careful. You bring your hand up to cup his balls, remembering one of your friends telling you guys seem to like that.

Quinn jerks his hips forward at the feeling, not being able to control his actions at that point, dangerously close to blowing his load down your throat.

He removes himself from your mouth, watching the spit trail down your chin. The sight is so pornographic he almost finishes anyways, digging his nails into his palms as a distraction.

“Was-,” you start, wiping the dribble off of your mouth, “was I not doing it right? I remember someone telling me once guys liked when you touched them like that. Did I scrape you with my teeth? Did I-“ your hoarse voice is abruptly cut off by Quinn shoving his hands under your arms and lifting you to your feet.

“You were amazing. Too good. If you would’ve kept doing that for even thirty more seconds I would have come in your mouth, and while the thought drives me insane, there’s only one place I want to come tonight,” he tells you, bringing his hand down to untie your soft pajama pants as he finishes his sentence, fingers ghosting over the exposed skin of your stomach.

You suck in a sharp breathe as he starts rolling the pants down your hips, exposing your simple, cotton underwear.

“Well, if I knew this is what we were doing tonight I would’ve dressed more appropriately,” you said softly, wanting nothing more than to bring your arms down to cover the exposed skin.

Quinn chuckles. “You could be wearing a diaper for all I care. I’d still be rock hard at the sight of you like this.”

“Weird, but sweet?” you respond, trying to break up the intensity you feel as you kick the bottoms off of your feet.

Amused smile on his face, Quinn shakes his head at you, toying with the hem of your shirt.

“Can I?” he asks, tugging at the thin material.

You shake your head yes, knowing there’s no going back after this moment.

“Words, babydoll, ‘member?” he mumbles, staring at your taut nipples through the shirt.

“Yes. To everything. I trust you,” you breathe out.

Quinn’s heart jumps to his throat, surprised at how excited the confession makes him. Knowing he has your complete and total trust with something as important as this adds a whole new level to what he’s about to experience with you.

The shirt is over your head before you can think twice, standing almost bare in front of him.

“Shit baby, knew you were stunning,” he starts but pauses, letting his eyes rake over every inch of exposed skin. “but think you were painted just for me,” he worships your body, trailing his fingers over the dips in your collar bones in awe, watching the goosebumps rise in their wake.

“Your turn,” you whisper, feeling the flush on your cheeks, not wanting to be the only one on display.

Not being able to take his eyes off of the smooth skin of your body, he removes the rest of his clothing before you can even blink, staring at the toned man standing in front of you.

Of course you’ve seen him shirtless before, considering he never likes to wear a shirt to bed, and having spent a weekend at his lake home a few months ago. But to see him completely naked before you is a sight you never want to forget.

Breaking the stare you both hold on each other, he moves your body to lay down on the bed, guiding you to move further up the bed as he crawls over you, stopping when your head rests on one of the million pillows.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he pants from above you, bringing his mouth down to place wet kisses along your neck.

You inhale deeply, the feeling lighting all of your nerves on fire.

Too distracted by the feeling of his tongue darting out to swirl along your skin, you don’t notice his hand has made its way to the band of your underwear, slipping a finger just under the barrier.

“Off, take them off,” you pant out, wanting the fabric gone.

“Yes, ma’am,” he obeys, sliding the material off of your body in record time.

Quinn forgot everything he was supposed to be doing when he saw you bare before him. He could practically smell your arousal, watching your pussy glisten in the low light of the bedroom.

“Bet you taste so good, hmm?” he rasped out, sounding like a man starved.

Squirming, your body fights to find some sort of friction to ease the ache between your legs, never having felt so turned on before.

“What do I need to do? Tell me what to do, Quinny,” you whimper, wanting to know what you’re supposed to be doing, desperate for relief.

Your desperation makes his cock throb, having forgot how hard he was, too distracted by you. But to watch you writhe and whine and look to him for guidance makes him painfully aware of how much this is all affecting him.

“Absolutely nothing. Now it’s my turn to make you feel good, darling,” he all but pants, licking his lips like he’s about to eat a five-star meal.

He moves his body down yours, shamelessly dragging his lips down your warm skin, taking his time and savoring every inch.

Once he reaches your soaking cunt, he teases you with hot breaths, wanting to admire every fold and crevice before exploring you with his mouth.

Placing small kisses on both thighs, letting his scruff scratch the sensitive skin, he finally lets his mouth find your core.

Licking a clean stripe up from your hole to your clit, he grips onto your legs, baffled by how good you taste on his tongue. He dives in like he’s never known such a luxury, slurping and sucking every inch of your perfect pussy.

You’ve never felt anything like this before, the pleasure overwhelming. You don’t know what to do with yourself, feeling like you’re flailing your limbs all over the place. Moaning and grunting, Quinn can sense your frustration with not knowing how to express your pleasure.

“Touch my hair. Pull it, tug it, hold on to it. Whatever you need to do. Just touch me,” he instructs you, the vibration of his words on your clit causing you to cry out, tangling both hands into his soft hair.

Quinn groans at the delicious pull on his scalp as you use his hair as your outlet, feeling his dick brush against the comforter as it twitches. He starts to grind against the mattress, not enough to push him over the edge, but enough to provide him with temporary relief.

He continues his assault on your dripping core, not caring if he were to drown in your arousal, loving how it practically leaks out of you, not wasting a single drop.

Once he feels you’re ready, he brings a finger up, slipping it inside of you and feeling your walls instantly clench around him. The sensation only drives him further, burying his nose deeper into you, if that was even possible.

Pumping his finger in and out of you slowly, he adds a second, ensuring you’re ready for him in the minutes yet to come.

Arching your back at the fullness of two of his long, thick fingers, you carry out a particularly rough tug of his hair, earning a moan so loud you want to do whatever you can to hear it again.

“Feel so good, Q. Never – ah! – knew I could feel like this,” you groaned, digging your heels into the bare skin of his shoulders.

“C’mon, know you’re almost there. Gotta let go f’me,” he grunts against you, feeling the flutter of your walls around him.

The unfamiliar pit in your stomach grows at his voice, never wanting him to stop talking to you.

“Oh, like that, huh? Like when I talk to you, pretty girl? Like when I use my voice while pressed up against your pussy?” Quinn asks you, feeling how you clenched when he spoke.

His vulgarness made the ball of pleasure grow even larger, threatening to pop at any moment.

Quinn hummed against your clit, wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud, inhaling just enough to create a small vacuum of suction.

The new feeling caused something inside of you to explode, a pleasure burning throughout your whole body so intense you think you lose your hearing for a few moments.

Quinn rides you through your orgasm, licking and sucking every drop of physical pleasure from your body. When he removes his mouth from you, you’re laying limp under him, the look of bliss on your face sparking a feeling of pride within him.

You have no clue what just happened to your body, not registering a single thing until you felt Quinn’s fingers running through your damp hair, fluttering your heavy lids open.

“There she is. Thought you went and fell asleep on me,” he chuckles, caressing your bright red cheek.

“mmmm” you hummed out. “Think I can taste colors. What did you just do to me?” you ask him, starting to gain control over your body again.

Quinn full on laughs at you, hiding his face in his bicep. “I think that’s the nicest thing a woman has ever said to me,” he marvels down at your state, knowing he was the first man to ever make you feel like this.

You’re trying to think of a clever or sexy response, but get distracted by something poking your leg. Looking down, you notice how hard and red Quinn’s dick is, remembering that he never finished earlier when you had him in your mouth.

“Oh!” you say in surprise, drawing attention to his…situation.

“What can I say? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed,” he references your intense release.

You bite your lip, almost embarrassed. “Well, I can think of something hotter,” you say quietly, reaching your hand down to grab his length.

Quinn gasps as the contact, the most sensitive he thinks he’s ever been.

“Now I want to watch you,” you can recognize the sound of your voice, not knowing what having an orgasm did to you.

Crashing his mouth onto yours, the first time he’s kissed you all night, your grips falls from his shaft, bringing your hands up to pull his shoulders closer to your body. The friction of his skin on your hard nipples alone is about to drive you over the edge again.

“Gonna wreck you, you know that? Wreck you like you’ve wrecked me,” Quinn says on your lips, bringing your bottom lip between his teeth before letting it snap back into place.

You don’t know where the sudden rush and roughness came from, but you can’t say you’re disappointed. Something within him snapped hearing you express wanting to watch him come undone under your influence, and Quinn can’t control himself anymore.

“Show me, Q. Show me what I’ve missed all this time,” your mouth is operating on a mind of its own, not sure what part of your brain has been unlocked by Quinn’s magical mouth.

Quinn growls, hiking your leg up to rest around his waist, leaving the other flat on the bed, standing on his knees as he brings his hand to line himself up with your still dripping cunt, causing your hands to fall from his body. His own hand finds one of your full breasts, toying with the nipple, causing a sharp gasp to fall from your lips.

“Ready?” his voice goes soft for a second, wanting to make sure you’re still good.

“Please,” you whine in response, shaking your head yes.

As he slowly sinks himself into you, he realizes that he’s found his new favorite place. Buried deep inside of your heat, the warm squeeze against his rigid cock, is what he was put on this earth to enjoy, he thinks to himself.

Your whimpers are the perfect soundtrack as he slides himself in and out of your slick, worried he’ll slip right out if he pulls out too much. The ease with which he glides through convinces him you were made for him. Every inch of you, made to be ruined by him.

“Tell me how to move,” you moan out. “Tell me how to make this – shit! – better for you. Teach me.”

Just like before, hearing you whine and beg for him to teach you, wanting to learn from him, has him losing all of his resolve. He completely slips himself out of you, slamming back into you with such force it takes your breathe away.

Hearing your gasp, Quinn brings his hand down, pressing on your lower belly to intensify the feeling of how deep he is inside of you right now.

“You’re perfect. Doing so good f’me. Best little student ever, know exactly what to do without even being told,” Quinn praises you, causing your brain to short circuit.

“Just wanna make you feel good, Q. Don’t wanna take all the fun for myself,” you respond to him, bringing your arms back up to the skin of his broad shoulders, raking your nails down the clammy skin, not realizing the burn of your nails down his back is the final string for Quinn.

He cries out, not wanting to come before you, but he’s so close he doesn’t think he can hold out any longer.

Mustering all the resolve he has left, he removes his hand from your belly, bringing it down to circle your clit, pinching it every so lightly.

He feels it the second you reach your second release tonight, the squeeze of your walls as they clench around him making it impossible for him to pull out, triggering his own orgasm to leave his body and leak into you in spurts.

His body shakes from the sensation, letting out some of the most pornographic noises even he’s ever heard. And he was once a teenage boy with unlimited access to the internet.

The two of you come down from your highs together, Quinn’s hand letting your leg fall back down onto the bed, and slowly removing his softening cock from you, both of you whining at the loss of contact.

He flops down next to you, needing a moment to recover before he made any move to clean either of you up.

“So…that’s what I’ve missed out on for all these years?” you asked out loud through shallow breaths, not even turning your head to look at Quinn.

Quinn managed a small laugh, replying with a small “Told you it was them, not you.”

You turned on your side to finally look at your sexed out boyfriend, admiring the way his hair was damp with sweat and his lip was swollen and red from biting it out of pleasure.

“Well…I don’t think I quite grasped the concept. I think we need to do it again,” you proposed. “You know, for study purposes,” you shrugged.

And Quinn knew you were (mostly) joking, but he’ll be damned if his dick wasn’t already half hard again, not knowing what he was going to do with you now. A monster of his own creation.

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mad-hunts · 18 days ago

Text

the relationship that jack had forged with his father was different than the others in ways he couldn't explain. for example, in comparison to matilda whom always seemed to be hyperaware of where her and barton stood, jack felt like he never quite knew where he quote unquote 'was' with his own caretaker — leading to these issues he had with attachment that a therapist long ago once told him were likely due to the fact he grew up in such an unstable environment.

but flying the coop, though it sometimes seemed appealing, was not something jack felt like he could do. because despite everything that barton had put him and their family through, jack felt this strong sense of loyalty to the rest of his siblings as well as to his father. and its not like he had a stable job at the moment; he was trying to secure a spot with a ballet company, after all, which was his true dream. but jack was working part-time as a lifeguard in between all of his classes and ballet related events.

which actually wasn't that bad of a job all things considered. it reminded him at first of how, after julien had died, he'd been afraid of the ocean for several years however. it was like jack's heart was on overdrive even around small bodies of water back then. so developing the strength to overcome this fear was probably the best thing for jack. and considering what had happened to gotham in recent events (with the riddler flooding the city), it made him think about how lucky he was to have done so before that all occurred.

i mean, could you imagine what it would've been like if jack still had thalassophobia with the flood suddenly hitting gotham like it did? lets just say, jack was grateful that jervis filled up some of the silence in the room right after he was burdened with that train of thought. a lopsided smile spread across his lips at jervis's approving comments about colin. jack had actually been keeping the fact he had a boyfriend a secret from his father, for fear that barton would take one look at colin and tell him 'no.'

therefore, it felt good to hear that from someone. the only thing he uttered was a soft 'yeah' in response to that as his eyes darted to jervis's moving hand, ❝ okay. do you like your eggs scrambled, or sunny-side up? and do you want just butter on the bread or is strawberry jam also good with you? ❞ that, as far as he could remember, was the only type they had in the fridge. jack kept his gaze on the cards as jervis spoke now, but let him know he was listening by nodding to what the other was saying.

❝ well, i'd definitely say it's a process. but you know what's funny? i don't know if you believe in any sort of afterlife but... ❞ and that was where barton had cut in, standing at the doorway as if he was waiting to be invited in like a vampire. and trust me when i say the doctor knew that jervis was probably not thrilled to see him. for, not even barton's own son looked to be eager to see him, but maybe that was just because jack knew the two held a general distaste for one another? barton didn't know but he waited in silence in any case for the farceur to leave the room with the medicine he'd given jervis.

he stepped in then only to reveal that, although he wasn't in dire straits anymore, he was still hooked up to an IV on a pole: which was a humble reminder to barton that his degree of brain swelling couldn't go away on its own. though, he wished it could. the expression on his face when jervis spoke to him said all that needed to be said: barton didn't believe for a second that the other meant that. ❝ no, you want to see me burn in hell, don't you? the least you can do is be honest about it. ❞

he stated this in a very 'matter-of-fact' tone, as if the thought of someone hating him that much didn't affect him. an incredulous chuckle left barton's mouth afterward, though, and that wasn't nothing. he slowly but surely used that IV pole as leverage to drag himself over to the cabinet next to jervis's bedside. opening the bottom drawer revealed old clothes of barton's within it, ❝ ravi, the man you met down at the bistro we went to earlier today? he called me, and he immediately asked me if i was in some form of trouble. because ravi told me he had to lie to the cops about us being at the bistro. ❞

barton pulled out a clean shirt to replace his dirty and bloodied one with before turning to face jervis, ❝ and i thought we were in enough trouble already, but marty, the guy i killed was apparently the son of a police captain. meaning those pigs in the GCPD might not actually stop until they find us. so i might need your help with creating a very... elaborate plan to kill him. ❞

Poor Jack's anxiety was written all over his face and body language. Despite his efforts to appear calm and reassuring, Jervis could sense the strain beneath the surface. Though he disliked Barton, he couldn't bring himself to be indifferent. It wasn’t in his nature to ignore someone else's pain, and the last four hours must have been brutal for the Mathis siblings.

A part of Jervis was still ashamed that he had even lost consciousness under the physical and mental strain, sinking into the depths of his mind like something swept away by the Lethe’s currents—except, unlike the myth, Jervis couldn’t forget. His past, fractured as it was, stayed with him. And as much as his memories pained him, Jervis refused to let them go. Forgetting Alice and Sylvie would be like losing them all over again. That was unbearable.

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought, and his hand instinctively reached for the chain beneath his collar, rolling his and Sylvie’s wedding rings like rings on an astrolabe.

He wasn't a fool. Jervis knew this was a difficult situation they had dragged Jack and Matilda into, and he felt sorry for both. But his empathy ran deepest for Jack. He didn’t know the young man well, but there was an unmistakable connection—a shared understanding, almost like neurons firing in unison. What had Sylvie once told him? Something about fungal hyphae—that they could sense their environment, responding to the slightest change. They weren’t like staid, immobile plants, she had said. Hyphae were dynamic, constantly adapting to their surroundings.

Even all these years, Jervis could still hear her voice, vividly recall the way her eyes lit up when she spoke of such things. "They feel their way through the world," she'd explained, with that endearing mixture of fascination and tenderness he had grown to love so well. "They detect ridges and surfaces, change their shape to fit. They know how to survive, how to grow, even in the strangest conditions."

It had stuck with him, the way she saw life in things most people overlooked. Jervis laid there, nodding faintly as Jack's voice washed over him; the parallel trains of thought made him pause. Maybe grief was like that too—constantly adapting, reshaping itself to fit the cracks in your soul.

Jervis’ hand loosened on the chain as he looked over at Jack, the faint clink of the rings barely audible as they slid along the silver links. He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping briefly. "Yeah... She was everything," he said quietly, almost to himself. His voice wavered, caught between the here and now and somewhere else entirely; hoarse but steadying. "Accepted every part of me, even the worst parts." His fingers tightened again, this time more gently, as if grounding himself.

Behind Jack, Sylvie was seated on the floor, legs folded casually beneath her. She tilted her head, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You always were too hard on yourself," she murmured, her tone light.

Jervis' breath hitched, his eyes briefly closing before refocusing on Jack. "You and Colin—he sounds good for you. Someone who keeps you on your toes, makes life richer." He paused, blinking slowly as though waking from a dream. "That’s… important."

Sylvie stood now, a faint shimmer at the edge of his vision, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm as she passed. "I’m still here, you know." Her voice was soft, steady. "You called me."

Jervis swallowed hard, his hand instinctively reaching for the space where her touch lingered before dropping back to his side on the mattress. "Breakfast for dinner sounds good," he said, almost absently, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I think… I’d like that."

His eyes flicked once more to where Sylvie had been; gone without a trace, but the weight of her presence still lingered like a hint of smoke drifting in the breeze.

"You know…" Jervis started again, the words coming slowly as he glanced back at Jack while he began sifting through the tarot cards. "It's strange. Sometimes you think you’re done… that you’ve made your peace, and then the grief sneaks back up on you. Makes you feel like you’re right back where you started... it's almost enough to drive anyone mad... but it's a process, right?"

The moment shattered with a soft clearing of a throat from the doorway. Jervis tensed, every muscle recoiling. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Oh, bloody hell… this bloke, again?

It took everything in him not to snap at Barton to piss off. Irritation surged through his chest, white-hot, but exhaustion won out. He almost couldn’t bring himself to react, in all honesty, the weariness in his bones outweighing the anger... You’re like a damn cockroach… he thought, half-bitter, half-bemused. Terribly rude of you to interrupt.

"Hey, citrouille," Barton said casually to Jack. "Mind stepping out for a minute? I need to talk to Jervis."

Jack hesitated, glancing between his father and Jervis, but eventually rose. Barton patted him on the shoulder, tone light, as if unaware—or possibly indifferent—to the tension in the air.

As Jack left, Barton held up his phone, waving it in front of Jervis. "I just got an interesting phone call I thought you might want to hear about."

Jervis exhaled, met Barton’s gaze. It took every ounce of flagging willpower not to tell him exactly where he could stick his ‘interesting’ call. Sylvie’s presence slipped further from his mind, swallowed by the suffocating weight of Barton’s intrusion.

He forced a tired smile, his voice flat. "Glad to see you back on your feet," he finally muttered. "At least one of us is standing upright."

#divingdownthehole #tw: mentions of murder.#tw: fear.#AHH okay (': well i'm glad to hear that you're okay with me bringing his bottle blonde meanie-head self back LOL #but you're so welcome!! you seriously deserve to be showered in compliments in my humble opinion for how beautifully you've #been portraying / writing your version of jervis :D but oh no not at all!! i think that everything you've been including in your replies ha #been REALLY good stuff for lack of better words haha. but TBH i totally understand giving your characters a tragic backstory as in-#my opinion even though i hate doing it at the same time... i feel like it makes them more compelling so i can't help it JSJSJ #but yeah i totally understand what you're saying + i'd never accuse you of that! so its all gooddd <33 but aww well i'm just telling you th #truth!!! you are AMAZING at painting pictures in people's minds of what's going on with your jervis (or in mine in this case) and you #deserved to be recognized for that (: but yeahhh gosh. now IDK if this is the right way to look at it but i feel like this might be one #of those situations where if a character knew what would happen in the future then they might've taken the opportunity to rest BUT #you know your jervis best OFC so i'm not going to assume that of him!! but no matter what its pretty much a universal truth that what #he went through was terrible and at the risk of sounding like a broken record... your jervis truly did deserve better 💔#but you're absolutely right. hindsight is everything TBH

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wakeup01 · 9 months ago

Text

Playing It Straight

“Roomieee. I need your help with something.” I hear the telltale high pitched cry from my twinky roommate Yuan’s bedroom. The last thing I need right now is his whiny ass distracting me.

“What it is? I have a date with this hot chick in half an hour. You better have clothes on this time dude.” My hand pushes the door to his room ajar and I see him laying down on the bed facing away from me. There was some upbeat trashy pop song playing on his sound system. Yuan begins to gyrate to the beat. “Don’t dance. No dancing.” I order bluntly, turning off his music.

There was being gay and then there was Yuan, who seemed to make it his whole identity. It was bad enough his room was colour coded in pastel purples to match his dusty lavender hair. But he had now painted the whole door too.

“It’s my big butt, I think there’s something wrong with it.” He announces with fake concern, rolling his hips on the bed sheet - revealing more of his smooth slim body than I ever dared wish to see. I make a internal note to ‘mace own eyes later’.

Yuan was not as innocent as he liked to make out and had on numerous occasions attempted to trick me into indulging in his fantasies. Gifting me a bright crop top and calling it a ‘fashionable tank top’ - it certainly turned heads at the gym the one day I wore it, or inviting me to a progressive club with the promise of scoring ‘lots of ass’. And the less said about ‘locktober’ the better, that was NOT a halloween costume. Only last week he had convinced me to listen to some gay as fuck audio tapes while I slept; obviously that crap didn’t work on a man like me. His justification always being ‘you’ll like it, I swear’. This one was a bit on the nose, even for him.

“Dude we talked about this, I’m flattered, really. I get it, I’m a gay bottoms wet dream. I can’t blame you for eying my superior meat.” I puff out my well built chest, barely contained in my tank top. “But fuck, it ain’t gonna happen.” I attempt to not make eye contact with him as he looks over his shoulder at me.

“No, like seriously. Something feels wrong, can you pleeease juth take a looksee. Pretty please.” He pulls down his shorts and moons me as I shield my eyes. It’s like the sun, you’re safe if you don’t look directly at it, right? Internal note: ‘buy more mace’.

“Serious like when you said we were in a ‘mandatory hand holding zone?” I hear muffled giggling coming from his pillow. “Bro it’s probably from all the things you shove up it.” I shudder, trying not to picture THAT in my head. “I’ll look but only if you promise me that you’ll drop that ‘I know you’re secretly gay bullshit.’ My friends at the gym heard that crap last time.”

“Hehe. Ooo thuch a manly jock. Geez, I pwromise. Meathead.” Yuan winks at me and I hated him for it. Hated the weird way it made me feel in my chest.

I sigh loudly for effect and bend down until the cleft of his…cheek is at eye level. I felt so self conscious, how on earth did he talk me into this? I look at my chiseled body just to remind myself, yes I am a man. A masculine man. God, here we go. My eyes briefly glance across his—ew—his raised butt before I quickly look away.

“Bruh I don’t see a thing. It’s a mans butt. Congratulations.” What the hell am I even looking for? I’m sat on the floor checking out a dude’s…posterior. And for what?

“Come on, look clother.” Yuan insists with a slight lisp, curving his back and pushing his rear higher.” Again, I look at my thick biceps, yes, still a man.

His hands pull at his buttocks and slowly part them, revealing his tight hole to me. Woah. One glimpse was all it took. I should have recoiled but instead I was fascinated. I’d never seen a man’s hole before, it was different…

I hear him say something to me but whatever it was, it didn’t seem too important. I couldn’t stop staring, it was like looking into a black hole, and the more I looked the more enraptured I became. It was distorting my worldview, it made me feel like I had been missing out on something all these years.

“Helloooo! See anything?”

“Uuhhh. Maybe.” I mumble, my head getting closer to his rear.

I pull away his hands and replace them with my own, laying my fingers across his round cheeks and spreading them wider. Wow, it was…dare I say, enticing? The rest of the room faded from my mind as my eyes fall deeper into his needy, winking hole. I lean in and my nose makes contact with his crack. I can’t help myself, I inhale and suck up his scent, it acts like an immediate aphrodisiac. My cock wakes up, poking against the edge of the bed.

“You have been lithening to your programming for me then. Good Meathead. Remember when you were the stuck-up clever one, going to college? That was thuch a bore.”

“Say what bro?” College? Did I…? Nah. That smart shit wasn’t for me bro, my head was like beef central. I haven’t a clue what he’s talking about but I was happy to be a good fucking meathead. Something in my mind told me I was supposed to be. It made me even more pumped about the gym session tomorrow, I gotta bulk up my pecs.

“Make sure to take lots of selfies tomorrow ‘bro’, I need to see your gains.” I continue to breathe in the sweet aroma emanating from his behind. What was I doing again? “So, anything there dummy? How about now?” giggle “Isn’t it likth so big.”

He wiggles his hips and pushes back into my face, my lips making contact with his boy pussy. My eyes go wide. Fuck, this was soo gay. I should be revolted, why am I still down here? I could get up and walk away whenever…whenever I wanted to. Suddenly my mouth felt parched, like I had spent a week in the desert. It became clear where this was going. I’m not sure if I could even stop myself at this point, one tiny thing could tip me over the edge and disintegrate my own self image. It was as If I was having an out of body experience, seeing myself pressed against him. I wouldn’t, I was stronger than this. I was straight. Straight as an arrow… straight as a…

“Eat up jock.”

F—fuck. My lips open and my tongue presses up against his rear, dragging up and down between his cheeks and then swirling around his inviting hole. It was like a dam breaking, once I started I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. He tasted too good. Ready for the main course, my tongue dives deep into him and begins to eat him out in earnest, my mouth sucking at his entrance like I’m slurping on a ice cream filling.

While giving him a very manly rimjob I think of a solution to our problem. I finish up indulging in his sweet cake and pull my face out, slapping his jiggly butt cheeks.

“So what’s the issue?” He asks impatiently.

“It’s empty for one. Huhuhu. But I can fix that bro.” I say confidently, rushing to remove my underwear so I can finally nut inside him.

I push his skinny back down against the bed and line up my monster cock with his lubricated hole. Yuan moans into his pillow like he should. I slide into him with ease and flex my arms, feeling proud at ‘conquering’ my roommates hole.

“Good Meathead.” He praises between loud panting. “Mmm. But I thought you were straight.”

“I am. Unff. Just helping a bro out. No homo. Though I do need to see if there’s anything wrong with your throat after I plant my seed in your hole.”

______________________________

The next day.

“Man that was a fucking lit workout.” I exclaim, marvelling at my bulging muscles. I tense my arms and see my veins pop, sweat dripping to the floor. “Though you losers sure focused a lot on your glutes today. Hey—aren’t you ‘queens’ gonna shower?” I turn as my gym bros stop behind me in the locker room.

“Well… we spoke to your roommate about your progress yesterday.” Xavier states, removing his damp muscle tee - his dark shiny skin reflecting the harsh lights from overhead.

Yesterday…for some reason my memories from the day before were a blur. For the life of me I can’t remember what happened. There was some strange taste lingering in my mouth that had been making my dick hard all day. My roommate was certainly in a suspiciously good mood this morning too and made some strange comments about me ‘being hungry for more’.

“About what bro? That Yuan can kiss my ass. Huhuh. Come on, stop checking out each others dicks and let’s go!”

“Uh see, he thinks you’re now ready to be our…” I’d never seen him so unsure of himself before, I roll my eyes at him and slam my locker closed.

“Y’all acting like a bunch of girls.” I swear if Yuan is back to spewing his gay bullshit again…

“Go on. Say it.” One of the others insists, nudging Xavier’s shoulder.

Xavier hesitates and then looks away from me, his cheeks flushing red. “There’s uh, there’s something wrong with my…butt…so could you?” The others fail to stifle a laugh.

I do a double take as Xavier turns and points his toned ass at me, his jockstrap framing it like a wrapped gift. “What the fuck? Bruh what are you doing? Put that shit away.”

“Be a good Meathead.”

I see a flash of my roommates butt cross my minds eye. Uhhh. My cock throbs at the image. Before I know it my legs are kneeling behind my friend, what am I doing? My body certainly seems to be one step ahead, my hands grab at his muscled legs for support. “What the actual fuck. Guys…” I’ve never felt so embarrassed, how am I ever gonna live this down?

A hand pulls on the strap hugging Xaviers left buttock and lets go, letting it snap back into place, a slight jiggle vibrates over his firm rear. Was it my hand? I couldn’t even tell.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe those tapes actually worked. He’s come a long way since he was that scrawny nerd, thinking he was above everyone. Now he’s dumber than all of us. We just need Yuan to join us next. Damn someone make sure to record this” It was hard to take in what they were saying, my mind was fixated…elsewhere. One of them leans down to my side and points their phone camera at my zoned out face. “Dude, we stink…I’m next after you.” Someone pats my back as another hand holds my shoulder in place. “Nothing more manly than licking the salty sweat off a bro’s butt.”

No….

Xavier bends forward, his pert dark cheeks pulling apart - sweat glistening on their surface. And then I see it. What my body craved. His hole. Everything falls into place, my mouth watering at the sight, my eyes entranced. I could no longer deny what I wanted, deny the inevitability of what I was about to do. The depravity would be immortalised on camera too, my dumb face shoved in a mans ass. Oh fuck.

The perfect black void nestled between his tight buttocks seems to suck away my shame as I lick my lips. “So manly.” I repeat to the crowd that had gathered around me. Mmm. Rimming a man’s ass was almost as good as fucking it. I wanted a taste of all the guys, their shiny sweaty bodies, their musk. It was my place in the group, I was their meathead after all. My cock was already throbbing at the thought. Maybe Yuan was onto something with this whole ‘gay’ thing. Yeah, let’s try going full homo. Huhuhuh. Anything for the bros, bro.

Looking down at me confidently, Xavier grips the back of my head.

“Clean my hole bruh.”

_____________________________

A few days later I check in on Yuan to see his progress after a few nights obliviously listening to his ‘jocking’ tapes. Dude, I’m going to enjoy watching him slowly bulk up and dumb down. He’s sat up in bed casually tugging at his cock, mouth agape. The heavy thumping bass of trap music is blaring from his speakers. His room is a complete mess.

“How’s it hanging lil bro?”

“Just…mm—wanking.”

“Can see, Meathead. Hung and dumb, nice. I think you’re about ready to join us at the gym.”

“Hmm. Roomie, I—I need your help with something. It’s my big dick…”

“Huhuhu, there’s something wrong with it, let me be a bro and give you a hand with that stick.” I climb over him and wrap my lips around his cock.

“Thuck…ahem. Fuck yeah brooo!”

#brainwashing #gay #jock #straight to gay

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 5 months ago

Note

Hiii!! Can I make a request? Its kinda long tho so I totally understand if you don't wanna write it !! :)

so basically what I had in mind is rhys' sister!reader x az, she got kidnapped by hybern on the day rhys's mother died and everyone had thought his sister died too but she didn't she was kidnapped and her memories were erased. After the war with hybern the ic runs into her and shes all bloody and injured because turns out she was fighting hybern soldiers as well because she finally saw an opportunity to be free. As soon as rhys saw her he recognises her but before he could even utter a word, she faints, so they take her to night court and nurses her back to health. When she wakes up she gets really emotional when she sees rhys because she feels like she should know him but she doesn't cuz she doesn't have any memories, later they get helion to fix her memories and there's a very emotional brother sister reunion. Az finds out he's her mate but he doesn't tell her and rhys is very protective of reader cuz he just got her back so he forbids az from dating her or anything, but she doesn't know that so she thinks az doesn't like her back so she's devastated over that. I didn't think of what would happen after that so you can come up with the rest but pleeeeeaaasee give az and reader a happy ending. Also can you include that reader had dreams of az the way rhys had dreams of feyre? 🥹

Thank you and I hope you have a good day!! <33

I switched it ever so slightly, hope you’ll still enjoy it!🤍🫧Part II

Lost and found

It’s your hair he sees first. There’s something in the onyx gleam that screams familiar. That is different from any other shade of black. Rhys’s mother always said that they bore all shades of the night sky in their hair. As a gift from the gods. It wasn’t pitch black, no. There was depth. Stars even. They gleamed. You gleamed. He nearly sank to his knees once you turned your bloodied face towards him. It felt as if looking in the mirror. He had pictured you in his head. Had made Feyre paint you. Paint you how he imagined you would have looked all grown up. If you had that chance if you were still with him. His little northern star. And you were here now. In front of him. Sward in hand as if you weren’t sure if you were supposed to stab him or leave him be. Shaking and so frail. Line Feyre was. Just like Rhys had found his mate. Broken and confused. Unsure of anything. Jumpy and scared. “Yn”, it’s a whisper but from the way your body shivers Rhys knows that the name speaks to you. Does his voice speak to you? Do you even remember? “I just want to be free”, you mutter, “Help me get free”. Rhys watches your body sag and his legs move forward before he can even think. Arms reaching for your body. Desperate to break your fall. To save you from this at least in hopes this would somehow make a difference.

Rhys sits by your side from the moment Madja lets him in. She’s doubtful about you waking up soon. Even more doubtful if it’s good for Rhys to be there. And a part of him knows it too but he can’t help it. It’s as if he’s pulled to you. By the need to see you. To know that he hasn’t just imagined you. Your eyes flutter open after a week of nothing but shallow breathing. Your body feels heavy and achy. The walls surrounding you are unfamiliar. But there are no shackles. No ropes. You’re in a big bed. With silk sheets around you. And then your eyes land on a male sitting in the chair. He’s watching you. But watching you as if observing a wild animal that might flee after a move too sudden.

“How are you feeling?”, he speaks up and his voice alone scratches something deep inside your brain. Something you should know. But you don’t. You can’t reach. “I’m Rhys. You’re in my court. You’re safe”, he continues, leaning in slightly, moving to reach for your hand that you quickly pull closer to your chest. You see the hurt flash in his eyes. But it disappears almost immediately. He bares your features. His eyes are your eyes and that’s enough to make your heart pick up. Is he family? A far down-the-line relative?

“You look at me like you know me…”, you mutter, feeling your eyes burn, “but i don’t know you”. Rhys takes a shaky breath and you could swear his hands are trembling. But he smiles regardless, “That’s okay, we have time”. You watch him for a moment, a stranger in front of you. They said that you had no one. There was no one out there for you. “What if I don’t want to know you?”, that’s a blow that leaves a permanent mark on his face, the frown line between his eyebrows. “That’s okay too. I won’t force you”, Rhys’s voice grows shaky, “All you need to know is that you are safe. I and my people will keep you safe. You told me that you wanted to be free. You’re free now”. He stands up quietly. Pushing the chair to the side. You catch a glimpse of a female standing at the door as he moves to leave the room. The door isn’t fully closed when a sob slips past his lips. She embraces him and it’s all muffled by the closed door.

“She’s wiped clean”, Helion’s words send another blow at Rhys’s chest. “There might be bits of her past there but… this will have to be gradual Rhys, if it all was taken from her, getting all the memories back might fry her brain out”, Helion crosses his arms over his chest watching you in one of his gardens. Hand outstretched to one of his Pegasus. He remembered the little girl. Sat on his knee. Mischievous little thing, he had called you. Now it felt like looking at a ghost. “But is there even a slither of hope?”, Rhys asks, desperately trying to cling to the future where you would recognize him. Helion sighed, “Take this advice from me, someone older than you”, turning to face Rhys, whose troubled face had grown ashy over the past month. “Creat memories with her from now. Build her up from nothing and that alone might make her remember” But how could he? How could anyone just wipe out the grief and terror? The feeling of losing someone and then finding them back once more.

Azriel had sunk to his knees in the room you had laid unconscious for a week. He knew you were mates even then. Both young and careless. He remembered your first kiss. Rushed and messy in one of Rhys’s father’s stables. You had pulled him out. Had been his haven ever since your mother had taken both him and Cass in. Losing you had messed with his head. He had mourned you just the same. Had closed off his heart for anyone. Meaningless fling got easier with time but he still caught himself thinking of you. Calling out your name. Leaving the females snarling at him.

Azriel thought that glimpses of cells. Of you locked up. Scared and crying were nothing but a fickle of imagination. He saw you drawing night skies. He saw you kill. But now he knew that it had been your unconsciousness calling to him. Zaps of bond binding you both connecting momentarily. He hated himself. He hated that he did nothing. That he had let go. Had given up. But they had found the body. Berried someone. Someone who wasn’t you. Azriel only visited once. That one time and then he erased himself out of the equation. Because maybe it was better that way. Because he wasn’t worthy of your love. He couldn’t protect you after all.

Rhys was happy with that choice too. It was petty but he didn’t want to share you with anyone. Not that he had you. Any part of you. Because nothing changed. He talked. Told you stories but you just shook your head. You didn’t know him. You didn’t trust him. And nothing he did made any breakthrough.

It was the night Azriel had accidentally walked into the study where you and Rhys were. Ready to drop off the reports he had written for the week’s work. His black shirt is slightly unbuttoned. Sleeves rolled up. Your eyes had drifted away from the painting towards the man standing in the hallway. Man your eyes always seemed to find. Man who had been avoiding you ever since you got here. It painted you slightly. It was the only person you seemed to want to reach but he was the only one keeping the furthest away.

Your eyes landed on his arms. The dim light dancing on the black ink snaking up his left arm. The book you held slipped past your fingers. Clattering to the floor with a thud. “Y/n, dear, is everything alright?”, Rhys was in front of you in an instant. Worried face searching yours. “Your left shoulder”, you muttered, pointing at Azriel. He halted in his movement. The handful of papers stuck midair. “Show me your left shoulder”, you muttered.

Azriel’s eyes looked up at you, “What for?”, it was colder. He was protecting whatever was there. Holding onto the last part of you he had. You stepped past Rhys. “I know that… pattern”, you muttered. “It’s old Illyrian”, Rhys cut in but Azriel only lifted his hand. “Please, I…”, the fuzziness around you ripped as you reached for your dress, yanking the sleeve off, bearing your shoulders to Azriel. His jaw clenched, as he looked away for a moment. And then he ripped his shirt open. And there it was. The same pattern all across his shoulder as well.

Taking a shaky breath you let your head fall into your hands, “You chose it…” A light sob slipped past Azriel’s lips, “I did”, he nodded watching you. “Because you were a bitch about it”, turning to Rhys you pointed a finger at him. “You matted my baby sister behind my back?”, Rhys hissed, the jumble of emotions was making everyone drown. “Mom knew about it, she approved”, you whispered, “Where’s Mom?” Your eyes looked up at Rhys. He slowly shook his head. Another wave of flashes floats through you. You reached back in a frantic breath, “Where are my wings?” An angry tear slipped down Rhys’s face. “Where are they? Where is she?”, you looked among them. Feeling panic slowly drowning you. “Come here”, Azriel pulled at your head, bringing your face to his chest. “No, don’t smother me”, you pushed against him, but Azriel held on tight, holding your shaking form, feeling the burning gaze of his high lord, “I’ve got you. It will settle. Just breathe with me”.

#rhysand acotar imagine #rhysand x reader #rhys x you #rhysand acotar #azriel acotar imagine #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel spymaster #acotar imagine #acotar x you #acotar x reader

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beenbaanbuun · 7 months ago

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riding w/ jongho

riding jongho would be an experience. he’d have his hands on your thighs, lazily running them up and down your soft flesh. he loves the way it feels beneath his fingertips, digging them in every once in a while just to feel the way your flesh feels in his grasp. occasionally, he’d let them make their way up to your hips, gripping onto the fat of your love handles because he loves how pliant it makes you. when he’s holding you like that, he knows he has the power; your pace is his to control, and you’re more than happy to relinquish that to him.

he doesn’t really care about what pace you’re going though—anything feels good when your walls are squeezing tightly around him. he just likes to remind himself of how easily you’re willing to pass the baton to him. it’s amazing how you fold with just one single touch, and he can’t help but be in awe of it every single time it happens. it means you trust him, after all, and nothing is more beautiful to him than that.

well, other than the way you look when you’re on top of him, of course. hair sticking to your sweaty forehead, eyes screwed shut with pleasure, mouth hanging open in a perfect O. it all paints such a wonderfully lewd picture; one that he could stare at for years and never get tired. monet wishes he could capture something so beautiful. van gogh could only dream of capturing such raw emotion. it truly is a sight to behold, especially when you find yourself growing closer and closer to that all important edge. nothing could top the way you look in that moment.

and then it hits you like a train that jongho could see coming from a mile away. the way you tighten around him, your hands screwing into fists atop his chest. it’s clear that you’re there, and jongho makes sure that he’s prepared to catch you when you inevitably fall to his chest. strong arms wrap around you, a large hand coming so sit at the back of your head. he secures you in place before he sets his own hips to work, making sure to work you through your own orgasm, as well as chasing his own.

he thrusts up into you, hips going at a much gentler pace than your own. it’s only fair, with how tired you seem to be. his precious girl, all fucked out on his chest, laying perfectly still as he uses her spent pussy to chase his own high. he can’t help the praises that so naturally fall from his lips. “such a good girl for me,” he whispers into your ear, cutting himself off with a groan, “letting me use you when you’re so tired, hm? you’re doing so well for me baby, i’m almost there.”

and he isn’t lying. just a few more seconds pass before he’s releasing his load into you, a strained groan falling from his lips as he presses his pelvis to as tight as humanly possible. it’s an emotional thing; a desire to be close to you whilst he pumps his cum into you. fuck, he always wants to be this close to you, but it’s not like he can permanently have his dick tucked inside of you, right?

but maybe just for a little while longer…

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez fic #jongho smut #jongho x reader #jongho fluff

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angellesword · 5 months ago

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Baggage l JJK (01)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, slow burn—really slow burn, mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, OC cusses excessively so watch out

Pairing: dad!Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

→ Next Chapter (02)

***

You know it's New Year's Eve when people flock to Incheon's Chinatown. Some were rushing to buy gifts for their families and friends, while others ate in a fancy restaurant or watched fireworks and the famous lion dance.

As for Jungkook, he knew it was New Year's Eve when he could earn double.

"I said I don't want to take a picture!" The loud wail of a little girl could be heard through the vast street of Chinatown. Many shoppers looked at the kid and her father with disdain. The child was crying hard, yet her father simply laughed it off, urging the child to take a picture with Jungkook or, rather, with Ronald McDonald.

Jungkook was wearing the infamous mascot costume of that red-haired clown of McDonald's.

"Come on, Wonyoung-ah. Just one picture, please?" Seokjin, the child's father, batted his eyelashes, acting cute. It worked on his partner Namjoon. Unfortunately, it didn't have much effect on Wonyoung.

"No! He's so ugly and scary!" Wonyoung stole a glance at Jungkook. The mascot looked so hideous that Wonyoung couldn't help but throw her ice cream at Jungkook.

"Wonyoung." Namjoon, who had been quiet all this time, grimaced when he saw Jungkook stilled—as if the ice cream that hit his chest also froze his heart.

Namjoon usually tolerated the young girl's brattiness, but seeing that Wonyoung crossed the line and even hurt someone older than her, Namjoon couldn't help but scold his daughter.

"Apologize to him." Namjoon tilted Wonyoung's shoulder, compelling her to face Jungkook, who was still rooted to the ground.

Jungkook had never liked kids. He thought they were annoying and full of shit. What happened today totally embarrassed him. Not to mention, many people witnessed the jarring scene.

"I don't want to! Why don't you listen to me! He's a bad clown! He scares people!" Wonyoung refused to look at the mascot. Honestly, Jungkook couldn't refute the kid's reason. He, too, was aware of how ridiculous he looked. Most of his co-workers went on vacation leave. No one was around to help him apply his Ronald McDonald makeup. He had to do it himself.

Jungkook had no talent when it came to makeup. He had accidentally put on too much white face paint—even his manager laughed at him. But despite feeling helpless, he still swallowed his pride and went out to entertain customers. It's just for one night. Someone who needed money to survive couldn't be picky with the little opportunity available.

Not everyone was lucky enough to throw away food like it was nothing. Wonyoung was a young heiress; throwing ice cream at Jungkook was considered throwing tantrums and not wasting food. They had money. They could buy people's silence.

That's precisely what happened. Namjoon was hellbent on making his daughter apologize, and after a long time of coaxing, Wonyoung finally (although reluctantly) managed to say she was sorry.

Namjoon apologized on behalf of his child, too. Conversely, Seokjin gave Jungkook some hush money after promising to 'discipline' Wonyoung at home.

Jungkook could only nod, once again forced to swallow his pride and accept the money offered to him. Poor people like him didn't only have fewer opportunities; they had no self-preservation either. He endured long hours of smiling as kids cried seeing his face. The brave ones were a little easy to deal with. They only clung to his legs, asking their guardians to take more pictures with him.

It was already late at night when the last customer bid him goodbye. Jungkook was exhausted; the cold winter wind made his body shiver. He was itching to go home.

"What happened to your costume?" The manager who laughed at Jungkook earlier couldn't laugh anymore, not when he knew it would cost the restaurant money to clean off the stain.

The chocolate ice cream thrown by Wonyoung heavily stained the costume. Jungkook explained what happened. Unfortunately, the manager only shook his head.

"Nope, that can't be. It's your fault you didn't dodge. I'm gonna have to deduct the laundry fee from your salary."

Jungkook's hands balled into fists when he heard about the salary deduction. There was ringing in his ears, and as if that wasn't cruel enough, the manager added, "I'm not going to double your payment this day. Half of it goes to dry cleaning."

The strong urge to grab the manager's collar and slam him on the wall made Jungkook's hands twitch. Who even dry-cleans a fucking mascot costume? A whirlpool of profanities at the bottom of his heart threatened to swallow him whole. Jungkook wished he could just disappear from this world.

Logic sided with him in the end, though. Jungkook needed a job. He couldn't leave even if he wanted to because if he did, where would that leave those people to whom he owed money? He couldn't escape his responsibilities. Yes, it would be satisfying to smack the hell out of his manager, but after all that gratifying feeling came the consequences: he would lose his only source of income, face a civil case, and be forced to look for a new job.

The last one was the hardest thing to do. No one would want to hire someone like Jungkook. He was a failure, and almost all business industries knew about it.

For the third time tonight, Jungkook swallowed his pride. He held the crook of his manager's elbow and beamed, "Manager Bang, have mercy on your poor employee, would you? You promised to pay me double today."

Jungkook struggled to steady his voice. He swore he never cried, not even when losing millions of assets. But things were different now. Back then, he lost everything because of his own decisions. But today's case was different. He didn't ask any of this. He didn't ask that stupid brat to throw ice cream on him. None of these was his choice...because sadly, he only had one choice:

It was to beg.

"Please? I-I need money. I need to..." Jungkook choked on his bitter spit. He shook his head. Never mind his needs, never mind his reason. It wasn't like others cared. He could only compromise, "What if I wash the costume instead? You don't have to pay at all."

Jungkook was so passionate about his proposal. He kept spouting nonsense. It was a pity, really. Even his manager couldn't bear looking at his face. It was such a cringe-worthy juxtaposition to see a happy clown almost crying.

"Okay, fine!" The manager cut Jungkook off. He had never seen someone desperately beg for money. It made him uncomfortable. "Do whatever you want. Just get out of my sight."

The manager shuddered again, but Jungkook smiled, almost kowtowing as he received his compensation.

"Thank you, Manager Bang!" Jungkook smiled at his manager before finally leaving the food chain. He didn't change his outfit, realizing that things were better off like this. It was winter, and he had no money to buy coats and boots. He had to make do with this clown costume.

With little compensation in hand, Jungkook walked around Chinatown, spending his transportation fee on food instead.

It was New Year's Eve, after all. He felt like he at least deserved to eat something delicious. Jungkook originally wanted to buy crabs but could only afford five sticks of chicken skewers and a bottle of the cheapest soju.

Jungkook had low alcohol tolerance. It had been many years since he last drank, and the consequences of that night had been awful—so awful he decided to never drink again.

Tonight was the only night he'd break his promise. It was New Year's Eve. He had no one by his side; he could only rely on alcohol to give him warmth.

As expected, Jungkook's vision doubled after just a few sips of soju. He couldn't stop drinking, though. The alcohol burned his throat and stomach, but it was nothing compared to his bitterness as he looked at the building before him.

The Bighit building.

Out of hundreds of restaurants and food stalls in Incheon, Jungkook had no idea why he chose to dine in a place where he would have a clear view of Bighit. He did so well trying to avoid going to this part of the city for years, so what changed tonight? Was the embarrassment he experienced earlier not enough?

Did he need to be reminded of the pain and humiliation he went through at the Bighit back then?

Or was it because he missed someone?

Jungkook's heart throbbed just thinking about that someone. It had been long since they last saw each other. Things had changed already. Take Bighit as an example. It was called HYBE now.

Some people left, including him. But some things never changed. The building was still as magnificent as ever.

Jungkook felt nostalgic. He couldn't stop himself from walking toward HYBE. Years ago, he could go in and out of this building as he pleased.

Everyone would bow down and smile at him. What a pity that he could only stare at the façade of this company now.

Jungkook wasn't the same man years ago, but the alcohol clouded his mind. He felt as if nothing had changed. He thought he could stand outside the building, smiling like an idiot as he waved at an angry girl leaning against her car, a frown decorating her lips while rolling her eyes.

Jungkook smiled despite himself. How shameless of him to think about that girl? To think that he could drink alcohol and pretend like he could turn back time?

Oh, how he wished he could turn back time. He would do anything to see that girl roll her eyes again, to hear her scream one more time.

Jungkook laughed bitterly.

He missed the girl.

The snowflakes fell, followed by tears falling from his eyes. The tears he thought had frozen over time.

And then he heard the sound of the fireworks before seeing it illuminate the dark sky.

It's New Year.

He heard the sound of her voice before seeing her face-to-face.

"Jungkook."

The fireworks enveloped his ears, but it was nothing compared to his loud heartbeat.

Jungkook looked at the person who had just uttered his name.

Did time really freeze? Was this some kind of New Year miracle?

Or was the alcohol still messing with his brain, making him believe that he was still the Jungkook from the past? The Jungkook could see the girl, also known as you, any time he wanted.

Jungkook blinked, chuckling.

It was absurd.

How drunk was he to see your car again parked in front of Bighit?

Jungkook was drunk, but the image in front of him wasn't a fragment of his imagination.

You were really here to pick Jungkook up.

Just like before.

***

NEW JJK ONESHOT HERE

→ Next Chapter (02)

This fic is originally a soukoku fic which I'm posting/revamping as a JJK one (I don't know, man. I feel like I have to change the characters to eradicate my writer's block. This fic has been on hiatus for many years. This will probably have 8 chapters in total. (I've written 4/8 already, so stay tuned!) This is also for those few readers who never fail to message me, asking if I will be writing more JJK fics. Here you go, I guess? Hehehe

I appreciate COMMENTS the most <33 I love you, guys. Thanks for reading.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #ficswithluv #jungkook bts #bts fic #daddy jungkook #parent jungkook #jungkook x yn #jungkook x oc #pseudo cheating

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jinwoosbabyboo · 24 days ago

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Your Birthday Is So Special !

You don't really celebrate your birthday it tends to just be another day for you. You've gone as far as to forget your own birthday some years and since you never mention your birthday it's almost a mystery. The LADS Men want to show you how special your birthday is since if that day never happened they wouldn't be looking at the love of their life. What would they do to celebrate your birthday? A/N: Ms. "I don't care about my birthday" meets Mr. "Your birthday is so special" [Requested by: miacara2]

Zayne

Zayne would take the day off for your birthday. I'm not talking he just so happened to have the day off. No. This man would do what he needed to do to get the day off just for your special day. Since he is you primary care physician your birthday is on file so he's aware of it even without you telling him.

He would have spoken to Jenna days or weeks prior to get you out of work by noon without being suspicious. You would come out of the building to find him standing there with a box of your favorite sweets and treats. "What are you doing here? What's all this?" You'd question with a giddy smile on your face; seeing Zayne unexpectedly was always a serotonin boost.

"Are you free this afternoon?" He'd ask avoiding your questions while flashing that cute half-millimeter smile of his, but his eyes would dance with mischief. "I am?" You'd furrow your brows in confusion. He'd intertwine his fingers with yours and take you to do whatever your little heart desires for the day. Once you're exhausted from the day he would offer to take you home.

This is where your real surprise would be. He would have your countertops covered in gifts and sweets along with a beautiful cake. "Zayne....when did you do this?" He would definitely stand there relishing in your shocked face. "It took all morning, but it was more than worth it" You couldn't help but hug him tightly you never thought you'd actually be happy to celebrate your birthday.

"Happy Birthday My Love let's celebrate together every year from now on"

Rafayel

Rafayel would be simply appalled at the fact you don't celebrate your birthday. "What do you mean it's just another day!?" He asked wide-eyed. "It's just not important" He would be so upset to hear you talk about your birthday like that. To him your birthday is like a national holiday there's no way he could let the sun take another trip around the earth without celebrating.

Rafayel: When is it? MC: I'm not telling you Rafayel: If you dont tell me I'll just figure it out MC: Good luck

He was indeed able to figure it out. How? Let's just say he has connections if he wants information he'll get it. He'd waste no time planning a whole day for the two of you. I picture Rafayel wanting to give you that childlike gleeful birthday that you never had growing up. He'd take you to an arcade or amusement park or even a fair/night market and would tell everyone it's your birthday "It's this pretty girls' birthday today!"

Now Although Rafayel is indeed a silly little guy he is very sentimental. At the end of the night he'd take you to an exhibit he rented out for just the two of you. It would be covered in his painted portraits of you along with candid photographs. Each one would have a gift or your favorite sweet perched on a cocktail table underneath it. "Why would you do this?" You asked in shock. "Because a special girl deserves to be treated as such especially on her special day Happy Birthday Cutie"

Xavier

He's used to forgetting his own birthday since he never considered it very special. Though something stirred in him when he overheard Simone, Tara, and Lisa asking you what you wanted to do for your birthday. You seemed to brush them off with a sweet smile saying "Nothing it's not a big deal just treat it like any other day" They all huffed and puffed at your words as you scurried off saying you had some research to do.

"We need to do something for her birthday she works so hard!" Tara said in a whisper-shout to Lisa and Simone. Xavier would barge into the conversation his lips moving before his brain could catch up "Can I be of service in this secret plan?" Contrary to popular belief Xavier would end up spearheading all the planning. He would want your girls to be involved since he sees how much they love you and how much you love them.

He would have you spend the day with your girls and the night with him. Your girls would be there right when you wake up screaming happy birthday in your face. They would take you to get your hair and nails done along with a little lunch date and shopping spree. You would be all dolled up and pretty by the time they dropped you off at home where Xavier was waiting with music, gifts, flowers and a cake. I also imagine since he is the one who taught you how to dance he would take you to a beautiful garden where he would dance the night away with you like Cinderella.

"I know I said birthdays were nothing special, but yours is and I want to spend every year with you. Happy Birthday My Lady"

Sylus

Sylus is not letting your birthday pass without a proper celebration. First of all he's taking you out the country for sure. That beautiful island you've been looking at? Yup he got a villa on it and flies you down there on his private jet so you have the utmost comfort. "Where are we going?" You'd ask as he escorts you up the stairs onto the plane. "Somewhere special" His answer was nonchalant as he poured you a glass of wine. "What's the occasion?" he would glance at you and let his beautiful smile spread across his face as he slipped the glass into your hand "Something special" You scoffed at his answer.

Although you never mentioned when your birthday was of course Sylus did his research. He planned for months to make your surprise perfect. You would land and walk into the villa fully decorated with balloons, all your favorite foods, a desert bar with a cake, and flourishing with gifts. Even the twins would already be there jumping out at you to yell surprise.

Sylus would make your birthday into a full weeklong celebration/vacation. "You overdid it you know? My birthday really isn't that important" Your words end up going in one ear and out the other. You were his special girl everything involving you was special especially your birthday. Otherwise how would he be able to smile in this drab world if you weren't here?

"That's why I've made it my mission to show your otherwise" He'd smile down at you and flick your forehead. "Happy Birthday Princess"

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads #lads rafayel #lads xavier #lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #xavier love and deepspace #lnds rafayel #lnds zayne #lnds xavier #lads sylus #nikaaaaimagine

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mrsparrasblog · 6 months ago

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You're losing me pt. 5

prev. part. first part.

TW: Gun, violence, mentioned rape, gaslighting, medic is shit

It was your last day on sick leave, so you spent it grading papers, cuddling with Winston, and getting distracted by Kyle's messages and his slutty pictures. You were so thankful for Kyle; he never pressed you for what happened with Johnny, just distracted you.

After you send a picture of Winston you heard the bell ringing and rolled your eyes. You knew Kyle never listened when you said not to come over, even though you really needed that time alone right now. Johnny is an artist, even though he didn't admit it, and so was being in a relationship with him. It was like being in a colorful picture, so vibrant. But since you left him, it felt like someone drained out the color; the painting is black and white, no longer golden.

You went to the door, opened it, and to your surprise, it wasn’t Kyle behind the door. She was there, her eyes puffy and red.

"What do you want?" If she was there to humiliate you, you’re going to throw up. You shortly texted Ky that she was there.

"I wanted to talk to you, I need your help," she sobbed.

Simon always called you one of the nicest people on earth, but right now, it was enough of being nice. "Well, you can ask Johnny for help." You tried to shut your door, but her foot was already between the frame.

"He is the problem."

"What, did he leave you?" you snorted out.

"He threatened to kill me because of the baby." You clearly misheard her. This can't be true, as if you can do anything against Johnny, and as if Johnny would do something against his own teammate.

"Baby?"

"Yes, I'm pregnant, three months." She rubs her nonexistent belly in front of you. Three months? Johnny cheated on you for three months? And a baby? No, this can't be true. Johnny loves babies; he’d never kill a pregnant woman, none of them.

"And he is threatening you?" You asked while slowly trying to pull out your phone again. You knew Si would be here in 4 minutes if you called him.

"Yes, he wants to tell everyone that I raped him, just so I get an abortion." With that, you burst out laughing. This was the worst joke you ever heard. When she wanted you to pull you away from him for real.

"Do you really think I'm that stupid to believe this shit now leave my apartment before I call the police." You already pulled out your phone to dial the number of the police, who are you kidding, dial the number of Simon. Simon and John always explained if something happens to you, call them instead of the police, they solve your problem faster, and that was a gigantic slag-formed problem.

"Bad mistake," she points out a gun to you, calculating. You trained for this situation endless times in school, but it was still different when someone held a gun against you. Would it work to tell her that there are people that love her? Or maybe you should argue with logic.

"When you kill me, they won't forgive you, it's not worth it," you said trying to sound as calm as possible.

"They won't find out," she laughed. God, that woman was batshit crazy.

"Here are cameras," they weren’t recording, but maybe she was stupid enough to believe you.

"They will understand," she said. Maybe she was stupid enough but also crazy enough to not care. There is only the last logical thing you could say to her.

"Then kill me."

"What?" She was surprised at your bluntness, but you knew she couldn’t really kill you, and if Kyle looked at his phone, he would have already been on his way, so you need to get through this for 10 minutes, 10 minutes, and you are safe.

"If you kill me, Johnny will find you, Kyle will break you, Simon will torture you, and John will finish your miserable life, my death isn’t worth this." You slowly walked backward towards the counter, there must be a gun. John put it in there when you first got together. You didn't quite know how to use it, but better than nothing.

"You're right," finally.

"So why don’t we put the gun down and just, you know, talk about it like adults," you suggested, still moving tiny steps backward.

"Stop moving, or I'll kill you," the same words over and over again. She sounded like a broken record recorder. You stopped moving, but this wasn’t enough for her.

"Maybe I should kill your rat, so you listen." Rat? Her gun pointed toward Winston. Fuck, she should better kill you than your baby. You lost complete hope in turning her; she is crazy.

"He is Kyle's dog, not mine. If you kill him, he will be sad." The shake in your voice was evident; tears started to storm out of your eyes; you didn't know what to do anymore.

"Three of four are enough, anyways." Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I can call them; I'll break up with them, just let Winston be safe, okay?"

"Really, you give up your boyfriends for that rat?" She gestured disgusted at your precious baby.

"Yes."

"Okay, call them," you walked to the counter, dialing Simon's number, close enough to the gun. You really hoped they don’t show a sign that they know; they are SAS; they need to understand, right?

"Hello," good, Simon's voice.

"Are the others with you?" You asked, trying not to tremble; she couldn’t find out what you planned.

"Yes, I put them on speaker, luv."

"I'm breaking up with you, with all of you for final this time. John, you're always putting me in danger, Johnny, you're always with her instead of my home, always on deployment with Simon, and you’re carrying all these scary guns with you that make me afraid, and I hate your stupid dog, Kyle." She looked proud and relieved at you, too stupid to realize. But they were smart, right?

"Okay, just give me back my keys to the office, they’re in the cupboard in the kitchen. I don’t want to see you anytime soon, I will pick it up at three tomorrow, bye." She gained heavily, and all you could feel was relief; you looked at the clock; it was 2:57, three minutes, and the gun. God, you loved your smart boys.

"Will you let me go now?" you asked, and she shook her head.

"Just need to make sure that you never go to my boys again, you can understand, right?"

"I'll move abroad if you want, the US, Germany, Italy, call it and I'll be gone." Before she could reply, she heard a loud bang outside, and that was your chance to grab the gun as she turned around, loaded fucking genius John, but not in safety, idiot. And then you shot, closing your eyes. You never did this before; the closest you came was a water gun at the beach; you didn't hit anything major, only her shoulder, but it was enough for her to lose her stance and fall. Seconds after, the boys went in Simon pulled her to the ground like a bulldozer with John. While Kyle and Johnny ran to you.

"Are you okay?" Both men asked, checking you for any injury.

"I don't feel okay."

"We know, love." You wrapped your arms around Johnny and began to sob. You needed him; you missed him and you were so scared. You knew for a fact he didn't cheat on you after that stunt that woman pulled today.

"We'll take care of her; we will be back soon, luv," Simon said with a devious grin while putting his boot on her to press down on her bullet wound.

John and Ghost left with her, and you knew for a fact your shot would be the nicest thing she witnessed in the next few days.

"I shot someone."

"Proud of you, hen."

"Never shoot again, please, babe; you're terrible at it," Kyle joked, but you still felt shitty. He knelt down, hugging Winston tight. "Oh, you've been such a brave and good boy protecting your mama. Let me take you to the park, pup," he said while Winston barked happily. "You two need to talk this out."

"Only we two now, Johnny."

"Aye, only we two."

"Where do we start?"

--------------------

Taglist: @cod-z , @kaoyamamegami, @postmortem-angel, @jackrabbitem , @sseleniaa , @thigh-o-saur , @littlechomper @ab12305 @darkangel4121 @thychuvaluswife

A/N : so I added the picture of Eliot to make up for the Angst I write 😭

For any who has a light belly (do you say that in english or only in German lol?) the next chapter will be half torture of her and the other half Johnny and Reader <3

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kooktrash · 2 years ago

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his special secret | kim taehyung

summary: you’re an art student who has recently broken up with your cheating ex boyfriend. he’s your art professor recovering from a divorce just a year ago. what happens when your relationship goes beyond that of a professor and his college student?

➢ genre/au: college art professor!tae x art student!y/n [she/her… afab] [age gap 9 years]

➢ 12.5k words

warnings: smüt. secret relationship. tae is 30, y/n is 21. car sëx. oral [f&m]. make out. groping. tae is divorced. both got cheated on in past. jealous tae. dirty talk. makeout in art closet. y/n is confident but going thru it. professor x student. no protection. y/n is on top.

[REUPLOAD] HIS SPECIAL SECRET 2

You know when you're really mad to the point that you wanna cry? Not because you're sad but because you're so mad and you can't even act on that anger, especially not right now, you couldn't even show that you're upset because you're in class. Obviously it started off with your stupid ass ex-boyfriend's tenth apology text where it was mostly just him trying to gaslight you. Then it was because of missing the bus to campus which made you have to get a taxi and spend way more money than necessary, but get this, you spent like 20$ so you wouldn't miss your first class and yet it was canceled. Canceled! After spending that money to make it for that specific lecture you walk over to the room only to find a big fat 'canceled' sign on the door. Plus, you had enough time to catch the next bus if the professor only posted or emailed everyone saying it was cancelled, hell you could’ve even slept longer.

Your phone is still being blown up and you just can’t focus on your painting today. You can’t mix the right shade and it is beginning to drive you crazy. Your palette is getting too full and your water is so dirty that it isn’t even cleaning the brush anymore. You had already been trying to keep your cool this entire time but now you can’t take it anymore. You were so upset with the trillion texts you were being sent and with your painting not going the way you wanted it too, oh and missing the bus and class being canceled, you were very clearly overstimulated and overwhelmed. You felt like there is nothing you can do but just give up for the day.

You stood abruptly taking your brushes and palette to the sink in the back of the room. You dried and packed them all up not caring to say anything to anyone else as you picked up your bags and canvas. You put your things away and left, not turning back to professor who looked up from helping another person to watch you leave so suddenly. You finally got your phone out and dialed one of your friend's number hearing it ring twice before they picked.

"What do you want? I'm trying to take a nude here?"

"Can you pick me up? I'm done with classes," you asked him. You weren't even that far from the classroom but you were done. You had been working on the same part for over twenty minutes and it was not getting any better so you just had to go.

"You're lucky I was gonna go get Bora too, I'll be there in fifteen," Jungkook said finishing up his last shirtless picture before going for you two.

"Will that be all for today?" A voice spoke up behind you as your call came to an end. You jumped looking back and following the voice's direction and froze at the sight of your professor.

"Yeah, I'm sorry I just—I can't focus today," you sighed rambling out a shitty excuse. He huffed crossing his arms over his chest. You swear your professor came from a world where only the most attractive people are born. It wasn't even you being dramatic, it's just the facts. He had dark hair always styled neatly, his face was angular yet soft and his dark brows made his expressions more attractive. His voice was always so low that it was quite literally mouth watering and he loved wearing long sleeve button ups where he could just roll his sleeves up if he got too hot. You looked at his face, snapping yourself out of your thoughts at his expression.

He looked annoyed, but he kept himself neutral as he spoke, "The exhibition is next month. You only have a few weeks to finish the piece before the submission deadline. Don't you think you should try to focus on your painting?"

"I did try Professor Kim, I've just been—there's just a lot going on and—" you stopped suddenly staring at his left hand, a silver band no longer there. You stuttered a little to start again, "I apologize."

"Mhm," he muttered looking away from you to the others inside the art studio focused on their work, "Just go on, make sure the next time you step into the studio you're more focused."

Dick. "Of course sir," you said turning your back to leave finally. You got to the campus entrance just in time meeting Bora along the way and the two of you got into Jungkook's car. He was shirtless as he drove.

"What's up with you?" You asked buckling yourself in as you got in the passenger's seat. He was on his phone looking up at you through sunglasses that made you laugh, "You look like such a douche."

"Shut up I told you I was taking nudes," he said as he drove away, "Plus I'm hungover and the sun's way too bright but I wanna know what took you two so damn long."

"Oh my god I left my laptop in the journalism room so I had to go all the way to get it and you know I hate walking too much," Bora said from the back seat. You sighed, "Mr. Kim caught me outside and he kind of lectured me but it's whatever. You won't believe what I noticed today—"

"What?" The two said in harmony ready for any sort of gossip. You looked genuinely surprised, "He doesn't have a wedding ring anymore." They leaned back in disappointment.

"Yeah we know," Bora said sarcastically, "Everyone's been talking about it since last semester. The word is he must've gotten divorced over the summer."

"Wait so it's almost been a year? How did I not know? He's so young," you said with furrowed brows trying to understand what you were being told. Jungkook sighed dramatically, "Because you had a boyfriend and you're not into older men."

"He's like 30, that's not old, first of all," Bora cut in, "And Y/n has daddy or mommy issues, so she's probably into older men."

"How did this get turned on me?" You asked looking between the two before settling your eyes on Bora, "He really got divorced? I thought he'd been with her since he was 20."

“Yeah, apparently word on campus is that he caught her with her coworker," Bora told you, "Minho from the Tech department heard it in the staff room. Apparently he was asked to help with some computer problem and two teachers were talking about it. He told his girlfriend and she's told basically everyone."

"Why do so many care?" Jungkook asked pulling up to your apartment. Bora gasped, "Why? Because he is literally the world's most attractive man? He's like a God. I promise you everyone has a crush on him and that's why so many of the beginner art class was filled. Everyone wanted to have him as a teacher even if they weren't art majors."

"Is that why you signed up for an art theory class this semester?" You asked turning to her. She nodded with a pout, "Yeah but it was already filled. You're so lucky he's head of the department and you're in your third year. You get to work with him more since his focus is on proficient students.”

"He's super strict though," you told her with a defeated sigh, "But I guess he's honest. You have to be ready to face critique and he's helpful. He just makes you feel like shit when you're not focused."

"I bet he's an ass because he's probably not getting laid," Jungkook laughed, "Divorce does that to people. Turns them bitter."

"Are you kidding? Look at him, women must be all over him, hell half of us on campus would gladly have him," Bora swooned. You looked down at your phone, yet another text message from your shitty ex-boyfriend.

"Y/n you should sleep with him," Bora joked, "Since you're both newly single and you'll be a good shoulder for him to cry on."

"Thanks but I like guys my own age and I’m pretty sure being his student already complicates things enough," you said absentmindedly before reading over the newest text. It's been at least two weeks and he still hasn't quit trying to gaslight you. It was ridiculous and so damn tiring. Your professor was right, you had to focus on art and this was only a distraction. You'll have to stay over time tomorrow because he hasn't left you alone today.

namjoon: I srsly don't get y you're still ignoring me

namjoon: you kno I'd never do something to hurt u

One of the best parts about being an art student who has finished their prerequisites is that now you can really just focus on your work. So you'd basically go to one or two art classes and then you would go and work on your art. Bora was right when she said he was your mentor and it was in fact pretty exclusive.

You sold a painting last year in the Spring Art Exhibit for the university and Professor Kim became a lot more helpful. Despite his young age he had great connections in the art world from financers to auctioneers and museums. He helped proficient students participate in more exhibits and some art auctions where they could be noticed for their work and now you're one of them. Obviously he could be strict but it's because he saw potential in you and you definitely did not want to disappoint him. That's why you've spent majority of your day here well into the evening. You did have to work later but it would be open for at least another hour and that's enough time to adjust some color blocking. The sunset was long gone and you’ve barely been twenty minutes into your groove when someone else entered the studio.

You lowered the music coming from your speaker immediately at the sight of your teacher. He looked at you for a moment before continuing his walk to his desk. You tried going back to your work but now all you could think about is how dumb you were for not noticing he was divorced even if it didn’t matter to you at all. He was fishing some black portfolio out of a drawer as he spoke, "A custodian should be by soon to mop the floors and lock the room. You'll probably want to leave soon."

"Yes, I’ll start cleaning up now," you sighed as you looked at the very little work you got done. You could obviously try and work on it at home but that was too distracting. Your apartment was small and filled with distractions and there wasn't enough room for your things. It was a three canvas piece and with the easel and all your paints, brushes, palettes, and sketches spread out on the floor there's no room. At least here you had places to lock it up in. It got awkward again as you cleaned up your space and he did something at his desk. So, awkwardly, you tried to fill the silence, "Any plans this weekend, sir?"

"Nothing too interesting," he said seriously as he shuffled through some documents to find something, "Probably nothing like what all of you get up to on the weekend."

You assumed he was talking about college students. You went to one of those Universities that was extremely popular for producing majority of the well-paid lawyers, athletes, engineers, actors, musicians and artists. The student succession rate was high and yet every weekend every college student was out there getting completely shitfaced because of stress. You shrugged, "Well mine’s not interesting either, I have to work all weekend."

You doubt he cares at all but you said it anyway. Mr. Kim left shortly after with a quick goodbye and you rushed to catch the bus.

Taehyung's weekend didn't completely start till Saturday night. His Friday night was filled with directing a new upcoming event happening. The exhibit is in a month and Taehyung's been stuck calling buyers and businesses for confirmation in their attendances. It was really a large charity event where large corporations get publicity and popularity from but a lot of the students who have managed to put their name out there are pretty well known in the art world. Many have gone on to create their exhibitions and events for their art and have had large commissions. The school did a really good job at providing their students with advantages in their careers and Taehyung was pretty proud to be helping his art major students. Of course it was stressing but it was an honor at his age. Obviously it helped that his parents were well known art curators and have worked with foreign and home artists for years. The only thing that was hard is how much work it really was and with the shitty year he's had he needs a break.

"It's been a year Taehyung, nobody's telling you to find another wife," his best friend Jimin said as him and his two friends sat at the counter of some lounge bar. "We're just saying you should at least have post-divorce sex with some random chick and let off some steam. It's a Saturday night, I say we hit up some night club after this."

"No thanks, I'm not in the mood to be shoved around by drunk college kids," Yoongi cut in as he read over the drink menu as the bartender showed up. He gave his drink order first putting the attention on Taehying and Jimin making him look up. His mouth opened slightly in surprise at the sight before him.

You managed to hide your surprise at actually seeing your teacher outside of campus but you were working and he was with friends. He was the one to stumble over his words when he gave you his drink order. Jimin smirked evilly when you turned to make the drinks at the way Taehyung was acting. You wore a black skirt and fitted black top with your hair and make up done.

"Well well well," Jimin whispered to the other two, "I guess I don't need to force you on blind dates. You can chat up the bartender."

"It was pretty awkward hearing you try and talk to her," Yoongi added in making Taehyung shake his head in disagreement. Still, he continued, "No, I—she’s my—she’s too young.”

"Taehyung, look at your gorgeous face, I doubt it matters, plus you’re a college professor! You’ve got a PhD, you’re well off, you’re artistic! It's no wonder everyone throws themselves at you, so go at it," Jimin said making Taehyung laugh, "Do you have a crush on me Chimmy?"

"Of course, I'm one of those college girls of yours who join your lectures just to for you to notice them," Jimin joked shaking his head, "And yet Jihyun is the one who cheated and not you."

"Way to bring that up," Yoongi hit him letting them conversation drop as you came back with the drinks taking their money, Taehyung looked after you. Did you work every weekend? He didn't expect you to be the type to work here. He doesn't usually pay attention to his students aside from during his teachings but you were obviously a different story along with all of his advanced students. He was your mentor and you spent a lot of time in the art studio. You mostly kept to yourself and did your work. He usually saw you stressed out but the other day was the first time in two years that you just walked out of his class. It was hard juggling the art piece from the Spring Art Exhibit and the final for their realism class but that's life and you leaving was so out of character to him.

It was still weird to see you give up that day. He obviously didn't know how you acted outside of the art department but he really was surprised especially considering the way you were dressed. He also didn't know you were the type to be friends with muscular men covered in tattoos and piercings.

"Holy shit that really is your professor," Jungkook whispered to you as he wiped the inside of some shot glasses. You and him stood at the other end of the bar gossiping. Jungkook smirked, "This is a sign, you should sleep with him."

"Do you ever think about something other than sex?" "Not really."

“Alright well focus on your own sex life and not mine. I just dumped Namjoon like three weeks ago," you complained, "Plus I'm pretty sure there's a rule against student and staff relations."

"Alright but you're 21 and he's like 30 so legally..." Jungkook trailed off giving you enough time to cut in. You sighed, "Just stop."

After some time you did circle back to the group of men and took more drink orders. While you were there one of them excused themselves to the restroom and the other got a call. In the end, Taehyung was the only one left. You found yourself stalling as you wiped your side of the lowered counter in front of him.

"I'm off," Jungkook came by patting your shoulder, "Want me to wait for you?" You shook your head at him, "No, I have to close remember?"

"Alright well call me if you change your mind," then he reached out and flicked your forehead, "See ya, Ugly."

You rolled your eyes swatting his hand away as your cheeks reddened in embarrassment. He's such an asshole. Taehyung didn't say anything for a second and then said, "So this is where you go after the studio?"

"On the weekends yeah," you said biting your lip nervously, "Also sorry if I seemed disrespectful but you're out with your friends and I didn't want to interrupt."

"Don't worry about it, I'm not offended I was just surprised. You're the first student I've seen outside of school-related events," he confessed with a small smile. From what he saw of you with that guy you definitely seemed outgoing. You seemed playful and maybe a little sarcastic but when he sees you in the studio you’re serious. When you talk to him it seems like you're always on edge and he still wanted to know what made you walk out the other day. Sensing another wave of awkwardness coming between you two you took a glass in your hand, "How about a drink? On the house."

"That's alright, I can pay—" "Sir, it's just one drink it'll be fine," you waved him off already mixing it before handing it to him, "You seem stressed."

Your fingertips touched his on accident as he took the drink. Your eyes locked once more before you were backing away to help some people on the other end. Taehyung has never looked at any of his students sexually but obviously he'd never been blind to the attractive ones. He'd been married for five years and he was loyal unlike his ex wife. Plus, he knew the position he was in and what it'd do to his career if he ever got involved with a student so the thought never came to mind. Right now though, he's having a hard time seeing you as a student and not just someone from the bar. Thankfully, his friends returned to him just as you caught him staring again.

Bora would be losing her shit over your small interaction with your professor. He was so unbelievably attractive and to see him in a setting like this made you want to do very bad things with him. Maybe their jokes about using your Professor for rebound sex was getting to your head. Obviously your friends never meant anything serious by that but wow did that seem do-able right now, especially considering the fact that he keeps staring at you.

"Come on Taehyung, let's go clubbing, I haven't gone in a while," Jimin begged him turning to Yoongi, "You too, let's go."

"Nah man, I'm not cut out for that anymore. I’m older than the two of you," Yoongi reminded making Jimin roll his eyes. He pulled on Taehyung's arm, "Let's go get you laid."

"Shut up, I'm not going, why don't you go? You don't need us," Taehyung told him. Jimin huffed gathering his things, "Fine. I will."

They waved him off watching him leave until it was just the other two. Yoongi sighed, "I should probably head home before Jieun comes to get me herself. It was nice drinking with you though, call me if you need anything."

Taehyung knows that he should just head out too. His two friends just left and he's got no reason to still be at the bar but he waited for you to come back and clean up their glasses.

"Your friends left already?" You asked him wiping at the counter.

"Uh yeah, I think I need to sober up before I head out though," he cleared his throat nervously, "Can I get a water?"

"Of course," you left for a second to fill it before coming back. You set the glass down in front of him stalling a little before asking, "I don't know if this is inappropriate or anything but are you alright sir? I, uh, I actually just realized you're not wearing your ring anymore."

His breath hitched for a second. He'll be a year since his divorce in two months and you've just now noticed? Well he doesn't expect his students to notice a small detail but still felt weird to hear it. He nodded in acknowledgment to your question, "It's alright, but yes, I'm not wearing my ring anymore. I had a divorce last summer."

"Wow," you said absentmindedly, "Well I hope you're doing well. I know this isn't all that similar but I actually just recently ended a relationship too."

"Oh?" Taehyung questioned with peaked interest. The nagging part in his brain was telling him to go before he got too curious about his student's personal life, "Is everything alright with you then?"

"Yeah it's fine," you shrugged leaving for a second to help someone else. Taehyung still waited even if he knew it was his chance to return to his empty home. When you came back he rushed to question you, "So, what made the two of you end it? Was he someone you were with since high school?"

"God no, we'd only been dating a few months but he still cheated," you blurted out, the topic still annoying you, "I mean, you know, some people just aren't worth it."

"He cheated on you?" Taehyung asked looking you up and down without much thought. He might be crossing the line with the next thing he says. You nodded no longer caring about keeping this to yourself, "With one of my closest friends actually. Safe to say I don't talk to either of them anymore."

"You're beautiful."

You froze. His words were mumbled behind his hand as he looked away from you, "I mean... you seem like a great person and I don't see why anyone would ever choose someone else over you." You didn't say anything for a moment before nodding your head, "Well I could say the same for you Mr. Kim."

Ah, so even if you just found out he was divorced clearly you’ve heard the rumors. It was embarrassing that his students and others knew what happened. The conversation changed after that. He asked about your progress and you went into detail about your work. He nodded listening, "Well maybe I could offer some guidance after class."

"I'd really appreciate that, and once again I'm sorry for walking out of class the other day," you bit your lip nervously and it had Taehyung doing the same. Stop, Y/n's your student and is at least nine years younger than you, he told himself.

His breath hitched as he tried to push his thoughts away before something bad happened. The two of you talked for another hour or two, before you knew it the bar was supposed to close soon as it was past midnight. Taehyung noticed the a sense of all other customers with a sense of dread, he'd have to leave now. He actually enjoyed talking to you, he's never connected with his students but you were easy to talk to. Obviously that was already inappropriate and he should just forget all of this but it was hard. He liked having someone to listen even if it weren't his close friends. He sighed as he stood, "So, you're closing soon?"

He was setting some cash down on the counter, a good tip that you tried to refuse. You nodded, "Yeah, I've gotta do some cleaning up unfortunately."

"How do you get home? You ride the bus?" He asked playing with his keys. You pushed some hair behind your ears, "No actually I'll probably have to call a cab since it's so late."

"Nonsense, if you're up for it I can give you a lift," Taehyung offered up before he could even process what he was saying, "I mean, I don't know how comfortable I'd feel letting you get in a stranger's car this late at night when I can wait for you. Unless you think that's inappropriate." It was.

You nodded, "I mean, if you don't mind waiting..." "I don't," Taehyung rushed to say, "I'll bring my car around to the front and wait for you alright? It gives me a chance to sober up some more anyway. You've got my number right?"

You did since he was your mentor. A lot of you students who were in advanced classes had his number since you all had a group chat. Taehyung would be lying if he said he hasn't had female students in the past be a little too suggestive in his messages but he always shut it down right away. The only reason he wanted to take you home tonight is because he actually enjoyed talking with you. He hadn't spoken with a woman this much in a long time unless it was school or work related. He's shot down every one of Jimin's offers to set him up with someone and when they'd go out drinking Taehyung was never interested in hooking up with strangers.

When you got in his car he passed you his jacket to drape over your legs and you thanked him, "Thank you so much, cabs are so expensive."

"Yeah, I bet they are, just tell me when to turn, alright?" Taehyung said as he pulled onto the street heading down the direction you pointed to. Your phone sat on your lap ringing and you didn't hang up or answered. If you hung up he'd just keep calling and calling.

He looked down at your phone before shifting his eyes back on the road, hand adjusting his grip on the steering wheel, "Do you need to answer that?"

"Huh? No it's just my ex," you told him honestly staring out the window, "He's still bothering me all the time."

"Mm," he hummed in acknowledgement as you pointed at what street to turn down, "He's still trying even after sleeping with your former friend?"

"Yeah, he thinks apologizing over and over again is gonna change my mind," you said with a shrug, "But that's done with thankfully. Don't you feel that way? Happy it's over?"

He waited a moment trying to think it over. Is this conversation with you wrong? Well in reality, getting you in his car this late at night is wrong. Thinking about how your perfume filled his car with a soft floral scent. Plus you were pretty, he'd thought that the other day too when he caught you in the studio so late. Your hair had been pinned back and your smock was covered in paint along with your hands. He had found himself stalling his mission that night before rushing home once he realized it.

"Um, I am happy it's over but it was also a ten year relationship that she threw away for one night," Taehyung said to you, "I'm happy it's over but it still upsets me. Sorry, maybe we shouldn't be talking about this?"

"Of course I'm so sorry Mr. Kim," you said turning away from him, "Um it's just up the street. The building with a gate."

He nodded driving forward. He was about to know where one of his student's lives. But why didn't he want to drop you off now? When he pulled up to the side of the building still a little hidden under the night sky he turned to you. Should he walk you up to make sure you get u wide safely or would that be taking it too far?

Maybe you were crazy or maybe your friends really got to your head because you did not want to leave. Obviously before you thought he was just your hot, married professor but now? After spending over an hour just talking to him and then him dropping you off home was messing with your head. Plus, you went through very similar experiences and he had to be at least a little into you to go out of his way to wait for you to take you home. Obviously it was wrong since he was your professor but in reality the age part didn't matter. Sure, you've always said you like guys your age but just look at Kim Taehyung.

So yeah, you were taking your sweet time unbuckling yourself and giving him his jacket back. He didn't say anything watching you sit up trying to get your things and for some reason he really did not want you to go. What he hadn't expected was the look in your eyes when you caught him staring again. This was wrong. He had to stop looking at you like that. He was nine years older than you and your college professor.

But then, you surprised him when you reached over the middle console. He didn't even have to think about what was going on when his hand was on your jaw pulling you closer until your lips met. He released a soft groan into your mouth letting his tongue lick along your lower lip until you gave him room to explore your mouth.

You were so eager, a hand on his thigh to keep yourself up as he tongue kissed you. He should not be doing this, he knows he shouldn't but it's been so long since he's had anyone's hands on him but his own. He did not sleep around and he was acting out of character with you but in this moment he just needed to have you. The nagging feeling was still in the back of his head though.

You trailed wet kisses down his jaw, kissing along his neck arching your back into him. He couldn't stop the slide of his hand over the back of your skirt, groping a little at your butt as he reached over to touch you too. Even then he just had to speak, "This is wro—ng, you're my student."

You're not completely sure what came over you in the car but at the moment you did not care. Your hand slid closer to his inner thighs making his muscles tense. You were getting a little too close to his groin now as you kissed him shutting him up. He kissed back hungrily despite his words and then your hand was running over his middle. You sighed into his lips, "Nobody has to know, just tonight."

Taehyung didn't put up much of a fight after that. He let you unzip his jeans and button. His hand was at your throat pulling you into him while his other hand trailed down your back. Your short skirt was a little too tempting to reach out and touch. He licked his lips when you kissed down the middle of his collarbone where the top buttons of his shirt were undone. With the first grade of your hand palming at his growing erection he groped at your butt in the skirt. He nodded with a lick of his lips, "Just tonight."

He couldn't stop the deep moan that he released when your hand dipped into his briefs. He was sporting a semi but with the first touch of your hand on his hardening cock. You still hadn't even looked down to notice he was thick and long. He felt heavy in your hand as you palmed over him, too dry to feel good so you brought your hand up. You held it to his chin and with his eyes locked on yours he spit into it watching you do the same before bringing it back down to his member. He jumped at the first feel of the slick grip you had on him now creating a wet slide around him. He was panting, it'd been way too long since the last time someone else touched him.

Also, it helped that it was past midnight and how far was well tinted so you couldn't see anything from the outside. The car wasn't even on anymore. His hips met your hand's efforts to jerk him off, moaning into your mouth as he grabbed a handful of ass. After some time you pulled away from him making sure to pull on his lips as you backed off watching him try and chase after you. He watched through lust filled eyes as you shunned further toward your door backing your butt up so you could lean over the middle console until you were face to face with his slick cock. He bit his lip in anticipation, no longer thinking about how wrong this was the second your tongue licked up a fat stripe up the length of his member.

"Is this alright, sir?" You asked holding his cock in a loose fist while you left soft kisses on his mushroom tip. Your tongue poked at the vein on his underside, rounded innocent eyes staring at him that he knew were anything but innocent. He'd never been with anyone this young, he'd never even thought about this before he'd been married for five years and dating for another four or five. She'd been the last women he was ever with and his relationships prior to her hadn't meant anything. Yet, here he was enjoying the warm tight feel of your mouth on him that had him forgetting everything wrong with this.

He licked his lips, "Y-Yes, but call me Taehyung." He liked hearing you call him sir too damn much but considering all his students call him that he couldn't think about it right now.

"Alright Taehyung," you leaned up to peck his lips in a quick kiss that had him craving more. Then you flashed him a mischievous smile before coming back down to his member, "I'm gonna suck your dick now."

Taehyung shudders out another velvety groan as your lips finally wrapped around his whole tip. Hips rise off the leather seat to meet your mouth hoping to get himself deeper. Wet warmth around his length and he's gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles whiten. You're far from gentle. The flick of your tongue over a thick vein before lapping at the slit on his head with every bob. The gentle suck of the tip. You've never found so much pleasure from sucking a man's cock before, but then came your hot Professor. Nine years older than you, too young to be divorced, and the man he taught you about art all week. None of that matters though when it comes to the deep growls and husky moans he releases as a hand plays with the end of your panties. A thing paid of things he had to pull out your underwear, fingers running over your covered slit.

Taehyung had decided the moment you reached into his jeans that he wanted to fuck his student. He wanted to let out all his pent up sexual frustration on his pretty little student who was just so eager to take his cock in their mouth. Who would've known he would've broken his head long dry spell for some college pussy. He brought his hand back from your underwear sticking his fingers into his mouth to lather them in spit.

He groaned when he hit the back of your throat relishing in the tightness of your mouth as he slid his hand to your head again, pulling the poor excuse for underwear to let his finger run down your slit toward your clit. You were so fucking wet, stupid wet actually and it only turned him on more.

His finger brushed roughly against your skin, a moan escaping your throat that sent vibrations around his dick. Taehyung toyed with your clit feeling more slick being produced by his touch. It was so fucking hot. The sec with his wife had gotten boring and repetitive over the years but this felt new and exciting. You were attractive to him from your looks to your art work and it was all hitting him at once.

"That's it sweetheart, take it all in your mouth," Taehyung panted stopping his motions, but pressing down against your clit. Your head began to bob harshly now, sucking him into your mouth while your hand stroked whatever didn't felt. He was feeling close but with how tight you felt, he needed to stretch you.

Taehyung hummed, rubbing circles around your cunt, his thumb gently massaging your clit. "Am I making you this wet baby? Should I punish you for it?"

You moaned and whined as Taehyung's fingers slammed into you, while rubbing your clit. You caught him by surprise when you bounced your hips forcing his finger in and out of your cunt at a speed you wanted and it made him groan deep in his chest.

He didn't stop fucking your throat as you fucked yourself on his finger giving him time to push another in too. He wished he could see this from an outside point of you. This thirty year old man getting his dick milked dry by a hot twenty one year old art student of his while he stuck his fingers into their tight pussy. He was so close, honestly surprised he'd been holding off this long. When his fingers began to feel your walls relax around him he knew you were ready for him now.

"Think you can ride my cock sweetheart?" He asked brushing your hair out of your face as you slobbered all over his member. You didn't need to be asked twice as you popped off him feelings his fingers toy with your folds but no longer fingering you. He pushed his seat back to give you more room before reclining his seat back. He guided you over his lap watching as you didn't waste a second in lining himself up with your wet pussy.

"I'm on the pill sir," you said calling him that name again that had his cock twitching. He nodded pulling you in for another kiss as his hands found your waist sinking you down his length. You moaned into each other's mouths. You slowly raised your hips and sunk back down on him, and he tightened his grip on your throat just slightly pulling you away from the kiss. Your face pressed against each others in breathy moans of want as he began to bounce you on his cock while bucking his hips.

It had been awhile for the both of you, though he knows you probably hadn't waited as long as him. He'd been dry since his divorce while you just broke up with tour boyfriend weeks ago. He had a feeling you were always eager like this for sex, and you clearly knew what you were doing with your mouth too and it was just so hot. He was kneading your ass as your head rested on the crook of his neck. He was so close but he was trying to hold off for you. He resort to talking, "This is wrong, y'know?"

Even then he said it with a buck of his hips loving the way your plump wet walls felt around him, "Only bad girls jump on their teacher's cocks."

"Mm," you whined teasingly as you sucked love bites into his collarbone, "You gonna punish me sir?"

"Oh fuck," he moaned when your walls clenched around him intentionally, "Call me Taehyung, love."

"Taehyung," you moaned into his mouth moving onto a quick grind of your heads into each other, "I'm gonna cu—"

"Do it, do it now, fuck Y/n," he held you tighter getting a little rougher now as he reached up for the handlebar on the roof of the car and used it for leverage as he forced his hips off the seat to push more into you. With the new force you weren't lasting long, your release hit you like a tsunami making you shake around him as he held your chest against his. He didn't stop thrusting though, trying to get himself as close to orgasm before he had to pull out of your tight walls as they twitched around him.

You let him raise you off his cock as you sat back down in your seat adjusting your underwear that had been pulled to the side this entire time. You reached across him with a hand jerking him off using your own release as lube and he was fucking into your hand forcing your mouth back on his. With a low grunt and a shake of his hands, he was cumming. Thick drops of creamy cum fell around your hand like a flood. You didn't think much about it as you pulled away from his lips to cover his cock in your mouth licking him clean as best as you could.

After some time you moved off him awkwardly pulling your hair out of your face as you cleared your throat. He tucked himself back in nervously as he adjusted his seat back up looking at his disheveled reflection. He couldn't even look at you, not because he didn't want to stare at your beauty but because it really was wrong. He was your college professor for fuck's same. It didn't matter his strong attraction toward you. What mattered is that he was in a place of authority and could easily lose his job and probably ruin your reputation. He couldn't do that to you but he really wanted you.

"I should probably head inside now," you said shyly as you grabbed your bag opening the door. Taehyung didn't say anything nodding his head watching you leave. He hated the fact that he looked at the length of your legs as you left. It wasn't right.

By Monday morning Taehyung wasn't sure what to think anymore. After the crazy night with you on Saturday it was all he could think about on Sunday. He met up with his friends for brunch and he couldn't help but rant. It didn't do him any favors that they knew something was wrong with him since the beginning. He ended up being honest and telling them that the bartender was his student and that they hooked up in his car.

At first they had been extremely confused by it all but Taehyung already felt guilty on his own as it was, he didn't need them making him feel worse. He expected them to slap him or tell him that he should never do it again. But they didn't say that. Instead they filled his head with possibilities that should never even be thought off.

"In reality you two are adults and didn't you say she's a third year? She'll graduate in a year so really there's nothing wrong with it," Jimin tried reasoning, "She wanted to do it right? Look, I'm just happy you got your dick wet. We both know it's been way too long, plus nobody is saying you have to keep seeing your student. It was just a one night hiccup."

He had to tell himself over and over again that it was just one night. He was thankful that when you walked into class you were in the middle of a discussion when another girl from the class. The two of you were talking so much you merely walked past his desk without a stolen glance. Good, it seemed like you had no intention on more. Great. Amazing. It was the right thing.

Today a male model would be brought in for you all to paint. He had a sheet draped over his intimates and once the assignment was started you put all your focus on it. You were supposed to use him to sketch a person and then use your own art style to tell a story. You tried not looking to your professor in case he felt awkward about Saturday. You kind of did.

Mostly because you could still feel his lips on yours and it made you nervous. You spent all of Sunday in your room trying not to freak out but you just felt so stupid. It felt unbelievably good for him but you knew it wasn't right.

"I swear to god these stupid fingers are pissing me off," your friend Yuna whined as she had to erase more charcoal. Neither one of you noticed the professor making his rounds to check on all the sketches down so far.

"Think about which perspective you're using and the proportion of his hands where he has them placed," Mr. Kim told her pointing to areas that seemed off. You could feel your heart race when he made his move to you next. He was hesitant at first to speak to you, just standing behind your stool watching your sketch and he only stepped closer when he had advice.

"Pay a little more attention to the line of his body, focus on proportions too and use more shadowing,” he said pointing at spots in your painting. It felt like he was too close but neither one of you were actually bothered by it. In the mix of slight regret there was also this strong wanting for a recreation of that night. Neither one of you would actually go for it though. Right? Not again?

He looked down to make sure you were listening, your eyes lcking for a moment before you both looked away nervously at the realization of your proximity. He didn't notice the way his tongue ran over his lips before biting down on his bottom one in remembrance. You're wearing the perfume from the other night.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung looked away from you standing straight again, "But other than that it looks like you have more done than others, thank you for focusing better today."

"Of course sir," you said absentmindedly looking back to your sketch too. It took him a second to move away. He'd never felt so damn embarrassed at the fact that he had to focus so hard on not getting turned on and breaking a sweat. This is exactly why he asked you to call him Taehyung only but of course you would slip up since you were used to referring to him with the honorific. But right now he could only think about what you'd said to him that faithful night.

"You gonna punish me sir?"

Looking down at you nobody would ever guess you'd say something like that but he knew you did. He heard you say it and he really liked it—

"Sir do you mind taking a look at mine?" A student asked snapping him out of his thoughts. He had to look around to find where he was still a couple feet behind. He didn't bother responding as he started working that way not noticing the way your eyes followed after him making you smudge a mark across your paper. With a small annoyed huff you worked on cleaning it up again.

After class you were one of the last to leave the room. You've been thinking about him nonstop but because of the positions you're in, you shouldn't. But in reality, you were two adults who happened to have sex. There was a sense of sexual attraction and honestly, hooking up with someone other than your ex definitely did something to you. Considering the fact that he definitely seemed affected by your presence in class, you found yourself staying another late evening at the studio making sure Taehyung saw you the next time he passed by the room.

He did see you again a couple hours later. He was locking up his classroom ready to leave at the end of the day finding you through the door's window. His steps faltered, head turning as he looked at his surroundings. Then, he was pushing the door open letting himself into the studio. The other side of the room was all glass windows since it face the courtyard but it was dark out there. In the room all the lights were off too minus a lamp by your table and a light above the sink.

You turned instantly with the sound of the door finding him standing by it. He ran his fingers through his hair that had been casually combed back. His other hand was stuffed in the pocket of his corduroy slacks with his tote bag hanging off his shoulder. He licked his lips nervously, "I just came to let you know that the custodian will be around."

"Thank you for the reminder sir," you said with your back to him to hide a playful smile, "Or is it Taehyung? I forgot."

His breath hitched as he stared at you from across the room. You turned to look at him, the lamp above your head creating a shadow in your facial feature but appearing like a spotlight only for you. It made him feel further into the shadow at the corner he stood. He really wanted you, but it just didn't feel like he should. He was your mentor. He was nine years older. You were a college student and he was your teacher. It definitely wasn't right. But he was just so attracted to you in this moment.

"Well it depends on what we're doing," he answered absentmindedly realizing a second too late his response was flirty. He had no reason to be in the studio at this moment but he made up an excuse to go in anyway just because he wanted to see you again.

When you finished cleaning up you were walking toward him. He looked down at you through a hazy gaze as you reached for the door handle pulling it open. Taehyung simply followed behind calmly as you spoke, "Did you have a good weekend?"

His pace slowed for a second trying to unravel your question and the subtle approach you took. He's quickly realizing you're a bit promiscuous. Your nonchalant hints of something more that only he could understand but everyone else thought nothing of it. You were a tease but you hid it so well. He thought for a moment about how to word his response, "My weekend was great, and yours?"

"Oh it was really fun," you answered as the two of you walked down the path through the courtyard, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."

"Mhm," Taehyung hummed in acknowledgment looking around again to see if anyone was around, "I can imagine what that's like. Hopefully you have more like it."

Your eyes met in a side glance as the split in the sidewalk separating the parking lot from your bus stop. He played with his keys like he did the night at the lounge bar, "Going to wait for a bus?"

"That's the plan unfortunately, unless someone were to come around and take me home," you said with a shrug looking away from him the further you walked down your split sidewalks. Teahyungs voice the further he got from you, "I'm sure someone would love to drive you home."

So you said your farewells and you sat at the bus stop nervously. Maybe you were a little too obvious with you felt and he was probably worried. He most likely regretted getting involved with you.

Of course that was the opposite. He knew he shouldn't but really it was because of the university. Aside from that there was nothing wrong with being attracted to someone younger. You were both adults. That's why he was rushing to his car pulling out of the driveway and going around the corner to the bus stop. He waited a few yards back from the bus stop flashing his emergency lights at you and in an instant you were up and walking to the car. He rolled the window down flashing you a smile as you opened the door.

He did end up giving you a lift but it wasn't to your apartment, it was to his.

"I don't know if I'm going crazy, but I've got this feeling that you're seeing someone," Jungkook told you with narrowed eyes. He was currently walking you to your class before going home. He always had shorter days than you and Bora since he worked in the afternoon but he always hung out with you two.

"I'm not seeing anyone," you told him simply as the two of you walked along the sidewalk. Jungkook just hummed in acknowledgment as he carried your canvas for you.

"Yeah, sure you aren't," Jungkook responded, "You don't have to tell me if it's supposed to be a secret. Is it supposed to be a secret? Oh my god are you dating someone in a relationship?"

"Why would I become a homewrecker when I've been cheated on?" You asked him clearly displeased with his assumption. He shrugged staring down the hall to the studio, "I'm just curious why you're keeping it on the low. Is he like, not someone you should be with?"

"I'm pretty sure I told you I'm not seeing anyone," you responded back to him entering your classroom. Taehyung was standing at his desk watching everyone walk in when he noticed the same tatted guy helping you with your canvas.

"Jungkook! Hey man, what are you doing here?" One of the other students called out to him. It was Seungjin, he was in your department and you knew each other better through Jungkook. Occasionally you'd talk but not always. He came over to where you and Jungkook were to talk as you got all your things settled.

Taehyung found you standing in the middle of two guys smiling over whatever they said watching the one with tattoos pull you into his side. Technically, class hasn't started but he can't stand the sight. Just a couple days ago you were wrapped in your professor's bedsheets sleeping soundly next to him. Now you're here with two guys your own age who were making you smile and laugh.

He shouldn't be surprised you had a lot of male friends. You were clearly well known around campus and people always approached you during class. Even at your job he found all the guys behind the counter trying to impress you with whatever. Even Jimin and Yoongi commented on your looks so really, this was normal. You had a boyfriend before of six months who cheated on you—which Taehyung would never understand why—but you also told him about other past relationships. Taehyung felt like he was different than your usual type and though he could say the same about you, right now he's getting annoyed.

He smiled down at the papers on his desk but it was anything but genuine. It was a forced smile to remind himself it was alright. It's not like you two could be forward with what's happening, not until you at least graduate next spring. As his class began to fill he finally had the nerve to approach you. If he could just get any guy your age away from you that'd be great. He was 30, he couldn't compete with all the college guys who surrounded you, had the same energy as you, got the same references. Taehyung's a millennial for Christ's sake, you're a Gen Z.

He made his round toward you well calculated. He greeted other students along the way to seem natural before he zoned in on where you were. He got close enough just in time to hear his student, Seungjin, speak, "Let's go drinking tonight, bring Hoseok with too. He hasn't been around in a while."

"Alright so us three and Hoseok? Should I tell Bora too?" Jungkook asked.

"Gentlemen, I'm sure you can continue this conversation outside of the art room," Taehyung's voice was bitter. He didn't want you going out with three guys tonight. He wants to order pizza for the two of you while you go into detail about your art piece for the Spring exhibition at your place. It was definitely a college student's place. He only went in the morning he dropped you off home after spending the night with him. You invited him in for a drink and he was too curious to say no.

Compared to his neat, bachelor pad, yours was chaotic. His place was clean, dark, and modern. Yours was ecliptic, slightly unorganized with paints and brushes everywhere. Thick woven throw blankets and patterned pillows. Hanging plants that were halfway between dying and thriving. You had vinyls piled in a corner with books. You had colored LED lamps, it was basically like a hippie fest at your place. He liked it though, compared to his place yours was warm and welcoming. He liked that he could see little pieces of you everywhere he turned.

When he first moved into his own place it felt cold. He never lived on his own like that. From his childhood when he lived with his family to college when he lived with roommates and finally when he lived with his ex wife.

Jungkook looked up at your professor who seemed slightly out of focus staring at your canvas. Jungkook's never gotten an up close look at him but Bora was right, he was an attractive guy and you seemed slightly awkward now that he was here. He looked between you two, his best friend senses tingling when he watched the way Taehyung bit into his lower lip when you brushed your fingers through your hair. Seungjin was too busy apologizing to the man telling him they'll get right to work.

"Sorry Professor Kim, I'll get going now," Jungkook said warily as he went and shoved your head to the side playfully, "Am I picking you up after?"

Before you could respond Taehyung was cutting in, "Actually I've asked miss Y/n to stay behind, we've got some discussing to do about her piece for the Spring Art Exhibit."

Obviously he hadn't but you didn't even dare to deny his claims looking to Jungkook, "I'll text you, go, you're interrupting class time."

"Once again, I apologize sir, I'll be leaving now," Taehyung had to resist the urge to roll his eyes as he nodded. Jungkook bowed respectfully before turning around to leave, glancing back at you two to catch your Professor glaring at Seungjin who was pulling his things closer to you.

Jackpot, Jungkook thought when his eyes caught sight of a small purple bruise peaking out from under the collar of the professor's shirt. He was clearly seeing someone too and Jungkook's curious to know who.

Taehyung returned to the front of the room after continuing his round around his students and started his lecture on surrealism. Seungjin sat next to you now that he'd been talking to you and Jungkook and you didn't mind. You'd hung out with him a few times outside of class and he was fun to be around. Still though, you couldn't focus on what he would say when you were so focused on Taehyung.

Had he been jealous because of them? Or was he annoyed that you were delaying class time? After class would he keep you around to tell you, 'Just because we're having sex doesn't mean you can do whatever you want in my class' or was that just an excuse so Jungkook wouldn't be able to pick you up?

"Sir if it's alright with you, I'd like to discuss my work for the exhibit too," another student pointed out at the end of class. Taehyung huffed in annoyance as he looked up to find you waiting as well. You looked away, "I could always come after my last class? That way you two could discuss privately?"

He tried hiding his smile. Obviously he wanted you alone, not with another student there so he nodded in agreement watching you leave. He had to work on keeping things lowkey. You're way better at it than he is. To be fair he's been out of the game for ten years and he never had to keep a relationship a secret before.

"Perfect! I was just coming to find you, are you coming with Jungkook and I to find costumes for the party this weekend?" Bora asked once you'd left the classroom.

"What party?" You asked confused. She gasped dramatically, "The costume party! Halloween in Spring, as Hobi calls it. Jungkook's waiting by the gate."

"I've still got one more class and then I've gotta meet Professor Kim and talk about the Spring Exhibit," you told her.

Bora laughed, "Yeah you should have your discussion while riding his face."

"What?" You sounded on edge and it only made Bora laugh harder.

"I'm kidding obviously, but I'd gladly sit on his face," Bora said with a shrug, "Alrighty then, text me later and I can go shopping with you tomorrow if you don't have time today. Jungkook and I are just going to get an idea before we meet up with the others tonight for drinks."

"K, bye love you," you waved her goodbye as you went to your last class for the day. You couldn't focus on it though, not when you kept thinking about Taehyung. That's why the second it was over you were rushing over to his room.

Luckily there was no one around when you let yourself in and he barely gave you a glance before pointing to a box of painting palettes, "Mind helping carry those to the storage room?"

You nodded taking the box as he took another one before walking you to the back of the room. He opened the door to storage room and let you in first looking around through the windows to make sure nobody was watching. Then, he entered closing the two of you in as you set the boxes down. The second he turned to you, you were jumping in his arms. Taehyung's hands went to your waist holding you up as your lips met in a hungry kiss that had him groaning in want.

After some time kissing like that he set you back down but his arms didn't leave your waist keeping you close. He looked down at you, "What are you doing this weekend? Let's go out of town."

You made a pout that had his eyes rounding in curiosity and anticipation searching yours for answers. You looked down hugging around his middle section, "My friend's throwing this costume party on Saturday and everyone I know is going. If I don't go they're going to get suspicion."

"Well just tell them you'll be seeing someone but you're keeping it private," he said hopefully squeezing you in his hold a little more. You just fit so perfectly in his arms despite the taboo of it all.

"I've tried but they won't quit. Trust me, once Jungkook and Bora get suspicious that's a wrap. Jungkook is like a ducking detective when it comes to other people's business," you explained watching the way his jaw clenched as he looked away from you sadly. You rested your head on him, "What about next weekend? Are you free then?"

"I'm free, I can make reservations now," Taehyung said biting his lip, "Alright I'll go out first, make sure the coast is clear."

You nodded watching him turn to the door before stopping to look back at you, "Since I can't spend the weekend with you, maybe you can give me tonight? We can order in, watch a movie..." He seemed strangely nervous as he spoke.

Jungkook and Seungjin did make dinner plans tonight but you didn't care much about that. You'd rather get laid and spend the night with a guy who interests you. You don't want to jump into things so quickly because you could easily get hurt. It didn't change the fact that you felt safe and comfortable with him. Even when you just saw him as a mentor, yeah he could be strict but he was also very good at consolation. He'd constantly tell you how talented you were and that you shouldn't forget that even when you're feeling down.

Then obviously you're getting closer to him so it's not bad to want to spend time together. Were you dating? Not that you know of? Would you consider him to be the only man you're sleeping with? Yes. Could say that same about him to you? Probably? He didn't seem like the type to mess around with just anyone and you've been talking on the phone on nights you can't see each other.

"Then, should I wait for you down the street?" You asked once he signed that the coast was clear. You both left the room stalling as you got to the door.

"Of course, make sure you do your school work too."

"Yes sir, I'll work on it tonight," you said as the two of you stood outside now. He bit his lip to hide a smile, "Well have a good night."

"You two, thank you," you said your goodbyes as you walked in opposite directions. Then, like a constant cycle, he was picking you up in his car.

On Friday night you spent the night at Taehyung's place. It's crazy how quick the two of you have progressed but it didn't feel forced. It's like, when it was just you two you could forget about the fact he was your professor. Even when he'd quite literally tutor you for some of your required course it didn't feel like he was your teacher.

The main reason you spent the night is because you wouldn't be able to see him this weekend other than Saturday morning. Tonight you'll have Hobi's party and you had to work Sunday and Monday night. You had already dedicated next week as crunch time for your paintings so you really weren't going to be seeing him outside of class and the art studio.

So, he drove you about fifty minutes out of the city to some expensive rooftop restaurant for lunch. You wanted to spend as much of today as you could with him before Bora would be getting to your house to get ready for tonight. The restaurant was far enough and way too expensive for any of your class mates to be here so it was the perfect place for a nice lunch date. Taehyung clearly had money from his career and his parents so it wasn't a question that he'd want to treat you to something nice. He wore a YSL cream colored button up shirt and black slacks while you wore a little black dress.

The two of you walked in with linked arms letting the hostess lead you to a table while you talked. You look extra pretty today. You wore light make up that accentuated your features and your hair was styled in a way that really suited you. He couldn't keep his eyes off you, if he could he would've noticed the waking nightmare about to cross paths with him.

"Tae?" His blood ran cold as the two of you looked up, the hostess waiting at your table for the two of you. You stared at the woman and man in front of you. She looked you up and down and you did the same shamelessly. She had black hair up to her shoulders and bright red lipstick. She wore a white blouse and grey pencil skirt. An ugly pencil skirt in your opinion.

"Jihyun..." Taehyung cleared his throat and it didn't take you long to realize who this woman was. The man was quiet but he looked uncomfortable yet you felt his eyes travel down to your exposed legs. You knew this must be his ex wife and you expected Taehyung to take his arm away from your hold. It must be awkward for him to be seen with you. You were obviously sticking out from the more mature group in appearance.

"Oh, uh, it's nice to see you doing well," Jihyun said with a forced smile. You wondered if the man was the coworker she cheated on Taehyung with. His arm almost pulled you even closer to his side, "Yes, I am doing well. Oh, this is Y/n."

You gave them a tight smile leaning into Taehyung more. He smiled at that, "It looks like our table is ready so we'll get going now."

"Was that your ex?" You asked once the two of you were to the table. Taehyung nodded before flashing you a smile, "But let's not think about that. This is our first official date so let's make the most of it before we have to get going."

Without thinking you leaned across the table and placed a soft kiss on his cheek before going back to looking at the menu. Before the food arrived you excused yourself to the restroom. It was windy and you could not have your hair all over the place. While you were in there you reapplied a light layer of lipgloss as a stall opened.

You couldn't believe your luck when the cheating hag—you mean Jihyun—came out. It made you smile a little as you wiped up the corners of your lips. She gave you a look as she went to wash her stupid musty hands right next to you.

"Taehyung seems to be doing well lately," Jiyeon said washing her hands. It was the second time she'd said it like she expected him to be crying in his room, "I've known him for a very long time an—"

"I don't really care how long you've known him," you flashed her a perfectly fake smile, "And of course he's doing well. Why wouldn't he?"

Jihyun pursed her lips in annoyance, "I'm surprised when he didn't introduce you as someone he's seeing. He only said your name, it's very strange."

If Taehyung wasn't going to do anything that's alright but she's clearly judging your appearance and possibly your age and relationship with him too.

"I really like your skirt," you added with another fake smile, "Only some women can pull off that kind of look. Unfortunately it's not for me, it's too bland?"

She scoffed as she ran her hands under the sink water, "It's office attire, but you look a little too young to know anything about that."

"Oh to be young and beautiful, do you miss those days?" You said finally closing your little handbag. In fact she was only 30 but if she was going to act like this then you would too. You ran your fingers through your hair one last time and check the back of your dress in the mirror, "I'll go first since Tae is waiting for me."

You began to walk away, Jihyun stayed at the mirror for a second trying to process what is happening. You must've been more important than she thought because it looked like you clearly knew who she was. You were bitchy but that wasn't the main problem. The main problem was that you were... everything Jihyun wished she could be when she was younger. She doesn't know your age but Taehyung was surprised he could even attract someone like you. The Taehyung she knew would never be into someone like you.

He had always had a sort of timid, mysterious nature on the outside and Jihyun had been the same. That's why it was so easy for them two to get close so long ago. Jihyu had always felt insecure when it came to the confident appearance as girls like you but Taehyung always assured her he never cared for looks like that. Clearly that been nothing but a lie if he is with you.

She barely made it out the restroom's entrance when she stopped in her tracks.

She had a clear view of your table, right by the glass ledge of the rooftop. Taehyung's smile was bright as he laughed over something you said and when she looked closer his hand was in yours.

He had never been the type to be openly affectionate. It had been years since he last looked at her that way. Maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her but Taehyung had never looked at her with that gleam in his eyes like he was giving you.

"Can I come over tonight?" You asked tracing swils with your finger on his hand, "After the party I mean or will that be too late?"

You're not sure if Taehyung seeing his ex actually affected him or if he was genuinely okay but whatever it was you wanted to make sure he was okay. He already told you he'd be playing tennis later with his friends but later tonight maybe he'd want to see you.

"Hm, it will be late but I can pick you up from the party if you don't care. I don't want you driving a cab so late especially if you'll be drinking," he said as he used his free hand to eat while the other held yours.

"Aw, sir aren't you just so sweet? Maybe we can reenact our first night together in my bunny costume tonight," you said it to tease him but you were also being serious. He was so attractive you swear you could just eat him up.

Taehyung nearly choked on his water but he couldn't help but smile, "it's barely noon and you're already thinking of that?"

He felt the tip of your foot against his leg, pulling on his pant leg teasingly. You gave him an innocent smile, "No, I just think about you and then I think about how much I want you."

He placed a kiss to your knuckles, "Always so eager."

"For you."

::.

this flopped so bad last time so pls YALL 😭

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